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delulujuls · 6 months

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loverboy | ln4

hi, i finally wrote second part for tinder buddies! im not sure if i like it though, i've got an idea but i dont know how it went.

anyway please enjoy and lets cross our fingers for japan win for this loverboy!

i will let myself tag everyone who wanted to be tagged in part 2: @mickslover @formula-1-04 @petitefaeries @bayleewatts67 @xjval @kapsylia @teamnovalak @slutforln4 @shimmermotorsport @myownwritings @maydiamondsinthenightsky @mikadojohnny

summary: when it turned out that Lando is more of a loverboy than a fuckboy and there is no point in trusting appearances because they tend to be misleading

warnings: none

pairing: fem!journalist!reader x lando norris

Y/N looked as if she had seen a ghost. She clenched her phone in her hand and glanced at the spot where Lando had been just a moment ago. Yes, that Lando, with whom she had a brief interview a few seconds ago, Lando Norris, who drives for McLaren, her Tinder buddy with whom she's been exchanging explicit messages for over a month now, and who knows more about her body seen through the camera than any guy she's had the chance to flirt with in person.

The girl only snapped out of it when the camera operator she had been filming with nudged her shoulder.

"The team bosses' interview is about to start, I saved us seats."

She quickly nodded and tucked the microphone into her bag, throwing it over her shoulder. She glanced at the McLaren garage one last time before heading to the conference. After all, she was here because she had duties.

As she took her place among the crowd of other journalists, instead of focusing on coming up with questions, she picked up her phone again. It immediately unlocked to her conversation with Lando, and she hastily replied to his latest, unambiguous proposition.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment. If you want, we can meet later in the evening."

Lando was scrolling through Instagram when a new message popped up in his notifications. He smiled and swiped it open, reading and replying quickly.

"i'd be honored. give me the address of the hotel you're at. and be ready by 9."

The girl smiled and sent him the address along with a note that she couldn't wait, wishing him good luck in qualifying.

Lando felt his cheeks hurting from smiling. However, he locked his phone and set it aside. He knew that if he didn't restrain himself, he would bombard the girl with messages. He was so excited about the whole situation, the overflow of emotions building up in him could easily secure him pole position that day, which he sincerely hoped for. He wanted to present himself in the best possible way, knowing that on that day, one special pair of eyes would be watching him.

Y/N was also excited, but as time passed, she began to feel stressed. Not because she was going on a date with Lando Norris, but because she was about to confront someone whom she may have known inside out but in reality had no idea who he truly was. She was slightly apprehensive about whether Lando would turn out to be as he portrayed himself on his Tinder profile. There, she dealt with a confident guy who knew how to flirt, who knew how to make a girl's heart beat faster. With a guy who focused only on fun and ultimately only on it. Someone who knew what he wanted and sooner or later would get it, one way or another. Now, knowing her conversation partner's identity, Y/N was certain that their online acquaintance might only exist in that dimension. And just as she had realized before, somewhere in the back of her mind lived a lonely spark, nourished by the hope that something more serious might come out of this online acquaintance. Lando was out of her reach, that was more than certain. However, she didn't plan to dwell on negative thoughts because she had a chance for a pleasant evening ahead of her. She had no intention of ruining it.

Qualifying didn't come as a surprise to anyone, as Max was to start the race from pole position the next day, with Charles in second place. But to everyone's positive surprise, Lando closed the top three, giving McLaren the opportunity to start from third position. Y/N planned to text him and congratulate him on his excellent performance, but she decided to wait until evening with her congratulations. She didn't want to come off as pushy or, worse, as a psycho.

Lando, indeed, was pleased with himself, but not as much as if he had managed to secure pole position. Y/N could notice this on one of the monitors, where post-qualifying interviews with drivers conducted by David Coulthard were taking place.

"Great performance, Lando, you were on Ferrari's heels today!"

"We did well today, not just me, but Oscar and the whole team as well. I hoped for more, but you know, the appetite comes with eating," he replied, but despite the smile on his flushed face, he actually seemed not very pleased with the result. Y/N was packing her things when she observed post-qualifying talks out of the corner of her eye. "I wanted to perform particularly well today, but unfortunately it didn't work out. I hope tomorrow will be better."

The girl sighed and glanced at the contents of her bag, looking at her phone lying at the bottom. She took it out and unlocked it, entering their conversation. She wanted to send him a selfie, smiling and holding up four fingers with a note congratulating him on the result, but she thought it might be a bit silly. So, she quickly wrote an alternative.

"Speaking of appetite, I hope you're looking forward to dinner more positively than to your third starting place. In my opinion, you did great today x"

When Lando finally had the chance to reach for his phone and saw the message from the girl, he sincerely hoped to see her face again. He hovwever, was pleased with her congratulations.

"i can't wait for tonight. and I hope tomorrow we'll have better reasons to celebrate"

Y/N smiled to herself, throwing her bag over her shoulder and heading with the cameraman to the media zone to have the opportunity to talk to some of the drivers or team principals. She replied quickly.

"We?"

"tomorrow I'd also like to invite you to dinner. because i'm afraid tonight may not be enough for us"

The girl felt herself blushing, so she quickly put her phone in her pocket. She didn't manage to run into Lando in the media zone again, but she had the opportunity to gather some more good material. As the drivers began to return to their garages and the paddock slowly began to empty, Y/N and the cameraman also decided to return to the hotel. The girl was absolutely not in the mood to deal with the footage recorded that day, so she was immensely grateful when her coworker offered to spend the rest of the day on preliminary editing and assured her that she didn't have to worry about anything. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, as in her current pre-date euphoria, she wouldn't be able to create anything suitable for publication. When the girl returned to her hotel room, she decided to take a long bath. Sitting in the tub, her phone lying nearby vibrated again.

"actually, would you mind if i pick you up at 8?"

Y/N smiled when she read his message. She glanced at her watch. She still had 3 hours before leaving, so she should manage without any trouble.

"Why, have you already missed me?"

Lando snorted to himself as he read her message. He would be lying if he said he hadn't. He wanted to see her again as soon as possible.

"if i'm being honest, i would like to be sitting with you at dinner already"

Y/N also smiled. It was cute and completely unlike the image Lando had built and which she had in her head.

"I guess I shouldn't torture you that much. I'll try to be ready by 7."

Lando smiled and squeezed his phone in his hand. Now he couldn't wait for the meeting even more.

"see you then, darling"

The girl blushed when he affectionately called her that. She set aside her phone and immersed herself in the hot water, but even that couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

At the agreed time, both of them were ready. When the girl stepped out of the hotel, she didn't even need to look around, as she easily noticed Lando leaning against his impressive car. He held a bouquet of white flowers in his hand and smiled as soon as he saw her. He walked a little towards her, but he had no idea how to greet her. Offer her his hand? Hug her? What would be most appropriate? He didn't want to make a fool of himself.

"Hi, good to see you," he said, unable to take his eyes off her. He bit his lip, but still couldn't stop smiling. "You look stunning."

"You too, but I'm sure you already know that," she replied, looking into his eyes. They were sparkling, brightening up his already joyful face. Even though he was wearing a dark shirt and dark jeans, his hair was slightly disheveled, and she could already smell his cologne almost on the stairs, Lando at that moment looked adorable, like an elated child.

"Maybe so, but it's always nice to hear it from someone like you," he replied, extending the flowers towards her. "Here, these are for you. And I hope I didn't make a mistake and accidentally buy you flowers you hate."

The girl chuckled softly and shook her head, taking the flowers from him and smelling them.

"No, absolutely not. I love white flowers, and these are beautiful. Thank you."

"Phew, thank god," he theatrically let out a sigh of relief "Glad I started off on the right foot."

"I rather doubt you don't know how to behave around girls," she retorted, following him as he opened the car door for her.

"Well, I'm afraid you might be surprised," he replied, helping her into the car and closing the door behind her.

Lando chose a very pleasant restaurant, located not far from the hotel where the girl was staying. The place was cozy and seemed expensive, but it manifested in a modest way, without any tackiness or artificial wealth. He reserved a table in the corner of the room, so they could expect a bit of privacy. Before taking his seat at the table, he pulled out the chair for the girl. She tried her best to remain composed, but the smile never left her face. This meeting and this whole situation was more than crazy.

"I hope I picked a good place," he said, sitting across from her. "I've never been to these restaurants before, so today's choice was largely based on Google reviews."

He admitted, glancing at her uncertainly. But seeing her smile, he smiled too.

"It's very nice here. Your choice didn't disappoint."

"Second victory in twenty minutes, going better than I expected," he joked, eliciting a quiet laugh from the girl. He then thought it was a good sign that she laughed at his jokes. It meant that this whole situation had potential.

Lando was genuinely stressed about this meeting. He knew well how people perceived him and what kind of guy girls thought he was, but the truth was entirely different. His hands were sweating with nerves in the car, and he prayed that the steering wheel wouldn't slip from his hands and cause some idiotic accident. Upon returning to the hotel, he spent over two hours searching for the right place to take the girl for dinner and did about twenty quizzes on what flowers he should buy her for their first date. Since he met her at the paddock, they had the opportunity to talk, and he managed to connect all the facts. He felt like either his heart would jump out of his chest or his cheeks would fall off from smiling. In reality, Lando was absolutely not who he portrayed himself to be and how he was perceived. And Y/N was slowly starting to realize that.

When the couple placed their orders and the waiter brought the vase for flowers that Lando had requested earlier, there was a moment of silence. Both were equally embarrassed, not knowing if it was because of each other or the whole situation.

"So," Lando started, rubbing his hands on his pants, "oh god, I don't even know where to begin. Should we pretend we don't know each other and this is our first meeting? Or perhaps the opposite?"

"I honestly have no idea, but I'm glad we both don't know how to behave," Y/N laughed. "But we can start over. Like it's our first date."

She smiled warmly at him. He reciprocated the smile and reached out his hand towards her.

"Lando, nice to meet you."

"Y/N, and it's also a pleasure for me, Lando."

She shook his hand. From that moment on, everything started to go smoothly. The conversation flowed smoothly, and there wasn't a single moment when there wasn't something to talk about. Lando turned out to be the complete opposite of the person she met on Tinder. He was also different from the Lando she sometimes observed in the media. He turned out to be a funny and very intelligent guy with interesting hobbies, not just those revolving around Formula 1. His big heart and incredible modesty also made it impossible not to feel sympathy towards him. Lando, on the other hand, wasn't really up for this meeting, he honestly had no idea what to expect. As it turned out, he met not only an attractive but also hardworking girl, for whom motorsport was not just a job but also a hobby. It also turned out that they had a lot in common, so after a while, the remnants of stress and uncertainty disappeared, and they began to feel in each other's company as if they had known each other for ages.

Their conversation was only interrupted by the waiter, who apologized and said that the restaurant was closing in fifteen minutes. Y/N and Lando both looked at their watches at the same time and were shocked to find that it was just before midnight, and the past five hours had flown by like fifteen minutes.

"Sure, of course, we'll ask for the check," Lando replied to the waiter, who went to tally their dinner. As soon as the girl reached for her purse, Lando looked at her meaningfully. "I hope you don't think I brought you here for you to have to pay."

"We can split the bill," she replied, looking at him and clutching her wallet. "People usually do that on first dates, right?"

"It would be a pleasure if you honored me to be a gentleman and let me pay."

Y/N laughed and shook her head.

"As you wish, Mr. Gentleman."

When he paid for their dinner, they left the restaurant together. Lando once again opened the car door for her, and their eyes met when their faces were inches apart as she passed him to take the passenger seat. When they were back at her hotel, the girl reluctantly glanced towards the entrance. She would have loved to spend time with him until the early morning.

She sighed and smiled sadly, looking at him.

"I know, me too," he replied, easily reading her thoughts. "But we'll probably bump into each other in the paddock in the morning. Purely by chance, of course, not like I'll intentionally run into you, absolutely not."

Y/N chuckled at his words.

"It was very nice spending the evening with you, Lando."

"The pleasure was all mine," he replied, smiling at her.

They sat in silence for a moment, exchanging silent glances.

"Would it be inappropriate if I kissed you now? Since we agreed that today we're starting with a clean slate?"

He asked, his gaze moving from her eyes to her lips.

"People don't usually kiss on first dates, but I feel like I've seen these lips somewhere before, and they've told me a lot of different, indecent things, so I think we can make an exception."

She replied, biting her lip. She surprised herself with her boldness, not to mention Lando, who just saw the same girl who he sometimes saw on the screen of his phone in the evenings. As soon as he got her consent, he touched her cheek without hesitation and pulled her into a long, passionate kiss.

Y/N returned the kiss, smiling into his lips.

"Have a good race tomorrow, and after tomorrow's dinner, I'll invite you for dessert."

She whispered, still centimeters away from him, when they separated after a moment. Lando unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, circling around it, opening her door, and offering her his hand.

"I think I can fit in dessert tonight too," he replied, biting his lip and looking into her eyes. She returned the smile and handed him her hand without hesitation. It seemed that the evening was not ending for these two, on the contrary, it was just about to begin.

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n

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madelynraemunson · 6 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲) 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✨ — a steve harrington one shot fic

modern!sperm donor!steve x modern!pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: It’s hard to find ‘forever’ in a world that glorifies hook-up culture. After multiple failed relationships, you start to believe that your dream of having a family someday will only be just that — a DREAM. That is until you stumble across The Baby Gate Foundation, a family planning organization that helps qualifying Strangers start families with one another.

disclaimers — fluff overload, strangers to friends to lovers, some angst, reader goes by “Honey”,

NSFW — very brief smut, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, cream pie, soft!dom steve

word count — 6.0k words

“So… what’s your favorite color?”

It’s the most aggravating question to ask when wading in the Dating Pool — and unfortunately the most frequent. But you figure at least asking about Steve Harrington’s favorite color is a good ‘precursor question’ when trying to get to know him. After all, you are the one carrying his child.

“Cerulean,” the handsome stranger from across the table replies.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue.”

“You could’ve just said blue.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You issue him a touché type nod as you gently place your folded hands over your growing bump…a bump that was a byproduct of an ordeal that he wasn’t even present to participate in.

Before you knew him as Steve Harrington, he was just Stranger #021 whose sperm donation gave you the gift of life. The gift of having a little one of your own.

And it was about time you started a family. It has been a dream of yours — once you bagged your dream job and got to travel the world — to get married and have kids. But apparently the person you spent 6 years with did not share that dream, despite having told you he did in the beginning stages of your partnership.

Are you crazy? How dare you think your ex wanted a family after he explicitly told you he wanted you to marry him and have his kids? Silly lady. You actually thought he meant what he said.

And Steve Harrington’s baby daddy application seemed impossible to resist. The Baby Gate Foundation disclosed to you that Stranger #021 has no physical ailments, was a star athlete in high school, isn’t a carrier for any chronic illnesses, and passed a mental health and drug clearance.

Your baby is very likely to come out healthy and, now that you’ve gotten a good general idea of the guy, will hopefully inherit Steve’s luscious chestnut brown hair, his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and kind nature. A healthy baby. A healthy family. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Your stomach feeling okay?” Steve inquires.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I just like touching it sometimes. It still doesn’t feel real.”

When selected, Steve jumped for joy. And you bet he started doing cartwheels when your pregnancy test came out positive. My dick still works! he remembers saying.

Having been a foster parent to many teenagers in the past, Steve also felt ready to have a kid of his own. But then his first long term girlfriend of three years cheated on him, and then his next long term girlfriend left him when she realized a family with him was not what she wanted. Steve was practically on the same boat as you. And the stars aligned…

“So I was thinking…when you’re in what’s considered a ‘safe’ point in your pregnancy, say second trimester… we can do cute pregnancy announcements,” Steve suggests.

Your eyes glimmer at the thought.

“As coparents of course!” Steve makes sure to add. “A-and then we can have a gender reveal. We can choose the theme and ideas for it later but I’m just thinking of an intimate cake cutting thing….pink frosting, obviously for girl…”

“And cerulean for boy,” you smirk at him, finishing his thought.

He chuckles at your comment. “Yes, cerulean for boy.”

You two then begin to brainstorm the minor details. Signing up for parenting classes. Check-up appointments. Your baby registry. Ironing out the details so that you both can relish in the pregnancy as much as possible.

When you’re done, Steve then pays for your lunch and you two go separate ways. But not before a long, grateful hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “You’ve made my dream come true.”

“I am just as indebted,” Steve insists, giving your back a loving rub. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

You decide to not let go until Steve breaks the hug. But little did you know that was Steve’s plan too. So you both stand there, in the middle of the mall food court swaying back and forth, waiting patiently for the other to let go because to be honest, you never know what a simple ‘I see you’ hug can do for somebody.

Finally, Steve pulls away.

“Listen, uh, Honey,” he says. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird because technically we don’t really know each other…but I already care about you so deeply. You’re the mother of my child. I want to be as involved as possible.”

“I care about you too Steve,” you beam at him. “And I feel like our healing journeys are coming to an end. I’m so excited to come together with another person who has the same goals in life.”

And that is all that’s said during that exchange. You hope that throughout your pregnancy, you and Steve can have more coparent dates to really get to know each other. You love that he feels safe and trustworthy, willing to put his all into the child that he, and many many medical experts helped you create. And you hope that as your baby grows up, you will find a lifelong partner like Steve someday.

“So how’d it go?”

You’re over at your best friend, Eddie’s apartment talking to him about your day. Eddie has been your best friend since middle school, bearing witness to every wonderful milestone — and tragedy — that has plagued your life ever since. Your decision to become a mother on your own, and coparenting with a stranger is no exception.

“I like him!” you exclaim. “He’s very sweet.”

“Do you trust him as your Baby Daddy?”

“If I didn’t, it’d be a little too late for that I’m afraid.”

Eddie would’ve been more than happy to be your donor, and without a doubt, you’d trust him in being fully present in the child’s life. However Eddie comes from a home with a turbulent family dynamic, and unfortunately is a carrier of the addiction gene along with many other illnesses. Eddie didn’t want to risk doing that to you or your family. So it works out that he and his boyfriend Henry are the ‘Fun Uncles’ or as he calls them “Funcles” instead, and Steve is the dad.

“But yeah I like Steve,” you circle back. “He’s funny, sweet, looks like he takes care of himself. Even paid for my food. Oh, and as a bonus, he uses big words.”

Eddie snorts as he strides over to the fridge. “He uses big words.”

“Yeah, like cerulean.”

Your bestie cocks an eyebrow and smirks at you. “What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue,” you smirk back at him.

He releases a theatrical gasp. “Ground-breaking.”

Your banter is cut short when Eddie’s partner Henry walks through the door.

“Hello, hello.”

“Hey, Henry!”

You watch as the quiet, tall blonde dressed in dark-denim-tailored-to-fit struts in with a grocery bag, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Hi, darlings.”

“Funcle Number Two,” Eddie greets his partner.

“I thought I was Number One.”

“You are,” Eddie shrugs. “In my heart. If you have an issue with your title and rank, I’d talk it up with Honey.”

“You can be Number One,” you grant him permission, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Eddie.

“Thank you, Honey,” Henry smirks, shooting a sassy look at Eddie.

Eddie issues a sour variation of that smirk to Henry, only to be met with a rough nudge to the ribcage. The two black cats then assemble to unload the groceries, all while focusing their attention back to you, their appointed ‘golden retriever’ of the bunch.

“Speaking of titles,” Henry adds. “How was your meeting with Daddy Steve?”

“It was wonderful,” you respond. “Was just telling Eddie how much I like him.”

Henry grimaces, understandably so. Your taste and judgment in men throughout the years have been nothing short of concerning. But because you didn’t willingly seek Steve out on a shady online dating app, at a dive bar at 2 AM, or on the dance floor of a sweaty small town nightclub, you figured you were in the clear.

“We’re gonna make it work no matter what,” you insist to your seemingly doubtful friends. “Even if there are discrepancies, we agreed it’s our kid before anything. And I’m ready. I told you guys myself that if I don't meet the love of my life by the time I'm 29, I'm having a baby by myself."

Aside from the two "Funcles", you have been the only consistent person in your life. And in this day and age, two people don't need to 'be together' to bring life into this world. And even if they are together, it’s not a happy home sometimes.

All that matters in this arrangement is that both of Baby Harrington’s parents are involved. That was Steve's promise to you.

Let's just hope he keeps it.

“That’s the head… and those…are your baby’s feet.”

You and Steve watch the monitor in awe as the sonographer scans your belly. You are now 20 weeks along, and doing a routine ultrasound check up.

First trimester was a nightmare. Constant nausea and vomiting so you’re not even sure that you’re stomaching those pre-natals, intense mood swings, and breast tenderness so bad you essentially begged Steve to just chop your tits off.

Regardless, you are healthy, and the baby is healthy. And now your camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of every frame of every ultrasound you get done, as well as audio recordings of Baby Harrington’s heartbeat. You and Steve even share your content amongst each other, just in case the other missed something that the other captured. It’s a wholesome exchange, really.

“Baby’s kicking a lot. Almost looks like they’re swimming in place,” the tech comments.

“I did swim and water polo in high school, could be why,” Steve explains.

You bat your eyes in adoration at your friend. He gives you a warm look back.

“Just like Daddy,” you say. And then Steve rests his palm atop your hand.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels complete.

“So, would you like to know the gender?” the sonographer inquires.

Immediately you and Steve bombard her with anxious-filled “No no no no”s. You decided to go with the cake gender reveal idea, and Henry and Eddie were in charge of having it made.

“We’d like for it to be a surprise,” Steve smiles. “But we sure would like an envelope with the gender in it. Honey’s gonna give it to her friends to give the baker.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” the tech grins widely. “I will have it printed out for you shortly.”

She wipes your belly down so that there is no more ultrasound jelly on your stomach before leaving. Meanwhile, you and Steve are absolutely giddy. You are now halfway through your pregnancy and couldn’t wait to hold Baby Harrington in your arms.

But as exciting as everything is, it is also anxiety-inducing. No parenting book could ever prepare you for bringing a kid into the world. There was so much more that needed to be done. So much to do. And it seems like there was so very little time to do it.

Steve has another question for you. “When does the baby usually wake you up?”

“Baby’s a night owl, strangely,” you reply. “I’ll feel some moving and stuff at night.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head in thought.

“Man, I hope kid doesn’t wake you up at night too much when they’re born. That’d be god awful.”

“I know, I’ve been thinking of that too,” you groan. “And all the diaper changes I’ll probably have to do before putting them back to sleep. Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about diapers.”

You didn’t want to think about post-partum shit. So far, you’ve only been focused on pregnancy shit, and that shit is already overwhelming. While you seem well-equipped for pregnancy itself, the thought of actually being a fully-functioning parenting unit alongside Steve brings on a new set of fear.

Suddenly you and Steve look up at each other.

“Oh shit!” you shriek. “A crib! We need a crib! A stroller.”

“And a whole nursery,” he gulps. “And a baby monitor… A swaddle! A carrier!”

———

You and Steve are moved in together by the end of the month. Platonically, of course. With a capital P.

You both figured that raising the baby under one roof would be the healthiest way to approach your parenting situation. Both of you already get along really well and have similar communication styles. You two also have the same expectations from each other. And not every child is blessed with two parents living together in a happy home. It’s a luxury you both refused to take for granted.

So eventually the non-traditional-housewarming-slash-baby-shower-party rolls around, in efforts to help prepare for Baby Harrington’s arrival. It ends up being a huge success. Additionally, the party gave everyone a chance to mingle with one another, your friends meeting Steve’s friends and jokingly calling each other "in-laws". Robin and Eddie immediately grow very fond of each other, having deemed each other best friends after their third time meeting.

“How long do you give it?” Robin asks Eddie as they watch you and Steve work together to build the crib. “You know till they…”

They observe as you and Steve bicker back and forth about whether or not a section of the crib was installed the wrong way. You argue that it was, and Steve, still firm in his masculinity that he felt like was slowly chipping away (he can’t help it sometimes) insisted that it wasn’t.

“I know how to read, Honey. And besides, if it’s the wrong part, how did I screw it on perfectly?”

“I don’t know, Bob the Builder,” you fire back at him. “You didn’t have to 'screw it on perfectly' to get me pregnant.”

“Til that baby is born,” Eddie estimates.

Eddie chuckles at this. He’s been with Henry for many years, but you two have beat him at the argue-like-a-married couple thing. Slyly, he sips his beer.

“…The very latest.”

“Steve, I’m hungry. Wanna go to Rally’s?”

The cravings have officially kicked in (finally). But of course, it’s at the least convenient of times.

“Woman, it is 1 in the morning...”

“Yes, and I want Rally’s.”

You give Steve a light thunk on his fluffy head.

Now that you two live together, sleeping in the same bed was bound to happen eventually. But it is the least of your concerns. In a world where people go ‘ghost’ after getting what they want, laying your head down in the same bed as Steve is the farthest thing from intimacy. You’re also afraid of the dark, and being in his light calms your nerves.

Except for tonight. Where the only thing that’ll calm those nerves is a Wild West burger and some fries.

Steve huffs, clearly too tired to argue with your hungry ass. But also, you’re the mother of his child. You have the hardest job, and having a late night snack when you felt like it is the bare minimum of what you deserve.

“Let’s go.”

You smirk to yourself as you dance your way out of bed. Anything Baby Mama wants, Baby Mama gets.

Rally’s sure did the trick. When you and Steve return, you find yourself skipping back to the bedroom while Harrington fights to urge to plop onto the floor right by the entry way, his body’s natural response to a food coma, and the state of lethargy he was in from being stirred awake.

But as much as he valued his beauty sleep, he knows deep down he’d still do it again for you. Your little food dance was also pretty damn cute, anyways.

———

THE NEXT WEEK

You and Steve have been ordering way too much takeout. So tonight you decide to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. So while he’s at work, you’re searching Pinterest for healthy, savory dishes to cook. Chinese food it is. One can never go wrong with some chicken fried rice.

Steve comes home right when you finish.

“Oh my god,” Steve gawks as he enters the kitchen. “What smells so damn good?”

“I made dinner,” you smile gleefully, and with pride. “I have so much energy second trimester it’s insane. Hope you like Chinese.”

Steve slows down. Glancing around the chaotic kitchen, he takes in the array of sauces, the cutting board, and the multiple plates and bowls that most likely harbored the. Then he looks at you — a sweaty mess with stains on her apron from all the rice tossing. And he can tell, by your slightly labored breathing, that you’re gathering up all the energy you possibly can to powerwash all the dishes.

“You…made this for me?”

“Yeah! For us, actually. And the baby. I hope you’re okay with onions and scallions.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine with those,” he insists. “It’s just that…I have a date tonight.”

Suddenly the pots and pans feel so much heavier. The air, hotter. The onions, stronger judging by how tears start pooling at the base of your eyes. At least you want to blame it on those.

“Oh,” you sniff.

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I should’ve told you so you didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“It’s fine.”

Why do you feel this way? It’s not like you two are together anyway. This pregnancy is a partnership… platonic with a capital P. So why are you upset? And more importantly, why are you jealous?

“I-I’m sorry…” Steve panics. “I-it’s just that we’ve been getting takeout all week and I thought it’d be the same toni-”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“That came out so bad, I…”

“I know what you mean,” you shake your head shutting him down immediately. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

“You’re crying…”

“I was chopping onions,” you point out.

You nod to the bag of onions that were yet to be put away. There was a lot left to be put away actually, and you were kind of hoping Steve would help. But clearly he’s a busy man.

“And it’s probably just the stupid pregnancy hormones too,” you add.

“They’re NOT stupid,” Steve insists. “And you just said you have so much energy. You were bursting with light just a moment ago…before I killed it.”

“Have fun tonight, Steve,” you repeat.

You head over to the wok and scoop out a serving for two: one serving for you, and one for the baby. Dad will get the leftovers, you suppose.

Steve watches you intently. You can feel his stare even with your back turned. Suddenly, you hear the faint dial tone of his cell phone ringing a couple of times before someone answers.

“Hey…Lacey, I can’t come tonight,” Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry for being so last minute. A family emergency came up.”

You look back over at him. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says ‘family’.

The two of them talk some more before Steve hangs up the phone. Awkwardly now, you chew softly at the rice you made.

“Well she definitely hates me,” Steve chuckles. “But I don’t care.”

“Steve…” you speak. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re carrying my kid,” Steve looks at you with glimmering eyes. “I can’t be running through the town in the arms of another woman. This pregnancy is a team effort.”

He glides over you and stops right where your hips meet. You timidly manage to look up at him, tear-jerked, all sweaty, and very very pregnant. And after Steve tucks a loose strand of hair behind the blushing cartilage of your ear, he presses his tender lips against your forehead.

“For the baby,” he whispers to you.

“For the baby,” you repeat after him.

The day is here.

The gender reveal, that is. You didn’t expect finding out something as simple as having a boy or girl was going to be this nerve wracking. And to think some people do this in front of a huge audience.

“Okay…” you exhale unevenly. “You ready?”

“Only if you are,” Steve nods, but his trembling hands betray him.

“Hand me a glass.”

Steve hands you one of the two wine glasses you brought for the intimate picnic you had planned for today. On the count of three, you two were to dig those very glasses into the cake and scoop out the long awaited answer.

SWEET CHILD O MINE, the cake reads. Boy or girl?

Henry and Eddie settled for a Rock-N-Roll inspired cake, with self-indulgent black and red buttercream on the outside, and the pre-determined blue or pink on the inside. You were afraid that it was going to be a little too edgy for Steve, but he assures you the aesthetic of a cake is the least of his priorities.

Drawing out an uneven breath now, you decide to start counting down.

“One…” you gulp.

“Two…” Steve joins in.

But you can't bring yourself to say ‘three’. Shutting your eyes closed in a bout of nervousness, you mutter softly,

"Two and a half..."

It earns you a chuckle from Steve. Knowing just how to calm you down, like he had been doing all pregnancy, he offers you his available hand to squeeze if you needed.

“Three!” you two finally say together.

Plunging your wine glasses into the cake, you and Steve gather one big scoop each while your eyes drift elsewhere.

“I can’t look,” you choke, sniffing back a tear or two.

“I can’t either,” Steve exhales, evidently nervous. “You can look first though.”

“No, I’ll look when you do.”

You’re met with messy dough and frosting in the glass at first. But after trailing after the inside part of the cake, you catch sight of the fluffy frosting that was buried beneath. A bright, eye-catching, pastel....

...cerulean blue. A baby boy.

“Oh…my…god,” your hand trembles in complete shock. “It’s a boy…”

“Oh my god, baby!” Steve sniffs going in to hug you. “We’re having a boy…”

And then it happens. Unable to contain himself from his joy any longer, Steve cups your face with his frosting-laced fingers, connecting his lips passionately to yours, and you with him.

It’s the best day of Steve’s life. You are the reason that he gets to live out his dream of becoming a dad. And now that you two are having a son, all he can imagine is teaching the kid how to throw a football in the backyard, signing him up for T-Ball and Boy Scouts (just like his dad once did with him), and taking him and his buddies out on silly, fun-filled rag-tag group adventures.

And knowing how strange and daunting the world can be, Steve already maps out how to raise your child morally, encouraging him to always treat others with kindness, to be a friend to all, to always lend a helping hand whenever the situation calls on it. And to respect women…because after all, everybody came from one. And Steve knows that he struck gold, considering the fact that he views you as an absolute queen.

You kiss King Steve back, humming in awe because of how natural his energy feels against yours.

It all feels very natural. Makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Your eyes widen in shock as you two look at each other, both stunned that a kiss was both of your initial, seemingly ‘platonic’, response to the news.

"Is it just me or is it just now hitting?" Steve questions. "We're having a kid together."

"It's just now hitting me too," you agree, the double meaning tugging aggressively at your heartstrings. "We're really doing this, Stevie."

“Our son.”

———

“What happens when one of us finds somebody?”

It’s a talk you and Steve were due for eventually. But Steve is just as unsure, looking over at your pregnant silhouette standing at the foot of the doorway.

But with how beautiful you looked standing at the doorway, your silk, maternity night gown hugging all the beautiful curves of your body while you rubbed your belly that housed your very active kicker, Steve wasn’t even sure if he’d ever want to find somebody else.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he ends up saying.

He makes his way over to you, wrapping his gentle arms around your waistline, emitting his ever-growing love for you and the baby you two share.

“But if one thing's for sure, it's our son. Baby Harrington first. Before anything.”

“Baby before anything," you repeat the promise.

Steve’s lips graze your skin once again, an invitation and incentive to join him in bed — nuzzled up in the sheets and his warmth — so the two of you can soak in all the rest you possibly can before Baby Boy makes his entrance into the world.

Some bridges aren’t meant for crossing. Sometimes settling is the best option. And you don’t mind settling down. Because here, in Steve’s arms, it feels like home.

WEEK 38

An involuntary rush in your lower extremity stirs you awake. When you feel around to push the sheets aside and hobble to the bathroom, you’re stunned to discover your nightgown had become a raft, and that you’re laying atop your own unscented secretions. And you know it’s not piss. So if you didn’t pee…

Oh no, it’s happening.

You begin to panic.

“Steve!” you hiss, sitting up and pushing your partner awake. “HEY! Harrington!”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, still half asleep.

“Get the hospital bag.”

“What?”

“Get the hospital bag, dingus. My water just broke.”

He shoots up. Still relatively disoriented, but now also horrified.

“W-what? Are you sure?! Does this… A-are you about to…”

“Yes! Grab the bag and start the car. He’s coming RIGHT NOW.”

While you slowly sit up to get your shoes and a robe on, Steve scurries to the car with your overnight L&D bag and purse in his arms. You reach over to grab your phone and charger, dialing up Eddie in the process.

It rings for a long time before he picks up.

“Honey, it’s 4 AM, what do you want?” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s time, Eds,” you sniff happily. “The baby is coming.”

The line is silent for a couple seconds, and for a while it’s like you can hear Eddie connecting the dots in his head. Alas, he speaks.

“HO-LY SHIT!”

*Click*. The line disconnects.

Steve holds your hand through it all. From checking into Labor and Delivery, to moving to your room, to breathing exercises with your bedside doula, check-ins with your midwife, and throughout the entire birthing process.

Not only is he nervous out of his mind, but he thinks you’re so beautiful.

"You know," Steve says in attempts to soothe you. "When I came out the womb, the nurse yelled "Oh my gosh! That's a lot of hair on a baby!"

You're too fixated on your breathing exercises to fully appreciate Steve's story. But you understand his sweet gesture, so you stroke his thumb with your thumb to let him know you're listening.

“I guess I had double the amount of hair than a usual newborn,” he continues. “And all the nurses were crowding around to get a good— OW OW OW! Watch the hand, watch the hand.”

The sudden level 9 contraction that shot through your entire stomach, causing you to scream in agony and beg for the epidural.

"JESUS, FUCK GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!" you plead desperately.

Steve kisses you softly on the forehead before going in to stroke your, very sweaty, hair. He was not going to leave your side. Not now, not ever. This baby — and you — are the best things to ever happen to him.

Thanks to yours and Steve's mindful prep, the birthing process was a smooth one compared to others.

But still pretty painful, nonetheless. For you, for Steve, for everybody involved.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Eddie sputters as he and Henry rush onto the unit with the baby's carseat and other miscellaneous belongings in their hands. "It's happening, it's happening. He's almost here!"

"I wonder," Henry pants, doing his best to keep up with his boyfriend. "If she experienced the Ring of Fire yet."

"What's the Ring of Fire?" Eddie questions him.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" your tumultuous screams sound down the hall directly from your room. Anyone would've thought someone was getting murdered in there, had it not been a hospital unit strictly for childbirth.

"That," Henry answers him.

---

"You're almost there, baby," Steve encourages you. "Keep pushing."

The epidural had finally kicked in and now all you had to focus on was pushing.

“I see the head, Mama,” your midwife announces, rubbing your knee as you’re struggling to push. “Keep going, keep going! Couple more for me.”

“FUCK!” you cry out doing your best to contract those muscles.

“There we go…” Steve soothes you as he strokes your hair. “Doing AMAZING, baby. That’s it…”

He strokes your thumb with his, a helpless look in his eyes as he watches you struggle. It’s clear that Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, but he attempts to mask that belief. He couldn’t wait to spoil you afterwards. It’s what you deserve.

“Few more pushes, Honey,” your nurse says again. “He’s almost out. We got his shoulders now.”

“Oh god I’m gonna faint,” Steve says, evidently growing dizzy.

“Can someone get a wet towel for Dad?!” another nurse calls out. “And maybe some juice?”

“PUSH, PUSH!”

“PUSH, Honey!”

“ALMOST THERE, MAMA!”

“I can’t,” you cry out. “I can’t anymore.”

“You can do it, baby,” Steve encourages you, pelting the back of your hand with endearing kisses. “You’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you…”

Before you know it, the air of the hospital room fills with tiny belted cries, followed by relieved and adorn coos as the nurse catches your baby.

“0507, time of birth!"

“Oh my god,” Steve wails in excitement. “Oh my god, he’s here he’s out. We have a baby! You did it, Honey!”

Too exhausted to say anything you simply fall back, taking a few deep breaths in relief. It’s over, the baby is here. And he is healthy.

You feel a sloppy kiss land on your cheek. Steve ruffles your hair when you look his way.

“You did it, Honey.”

Everything happens so fast after that.

From what you hear, Steve was the one who cut the umbilical cord — and he was very adamant about having the pictures to prove it. The baby was then weighed and bathed, all the hospital data was gathered with permission granted by Steve.

And soon, after an eternity, your son is swaddled and soon returned back to you and ‘Dad’.

"Oh wow!" a nurse remarks. "This baby has a whole lotta hair!"

You and Steve immediately look to each other and burst out laughing. Just like his Daddy...

———

“How does that feel, Steve?” you ask him, eyes fixated on the absolute DILF in front of you.

“Amazing,” he coos. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

When all needs were attended to, it was finally time for ‘skin to skin’. You didn’t think it’d be possible to be both sexy and wholesome at the same time — until you saw Steve cradling your newborn, pressing him tenderly against his exposed chest so that their hearts can beat as one.

“Hi little man,” he sniffs. “I’m your daddy.”

A single tear falls from his face and splashes onto the blanket that your son was cocooned in. Steve pulls him in closer and kisses him softly on the forehead.

“I’m your daddy,” he repeats.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Steve’s legacy is about to begin and it’s all thanks to you. And from your hospital bed as you recover, you are able to snap some pictures of the two loves of your life, the first photos of many, of the family photo albums.

“Ugh, when did Steve get so hairy?” Lucas wonders as he sneaks a gaze into the hospital room.

“Right?” Dustin agrees, joining him beside the doorway. “I told him he needs to tame that jungle but he claims the ladies dig it.”

“I mean, look at Honey,” Lucas points out. She seems to like it and Steve knocked her up.”

“True but it wasn’t organic, you idiot,” Max mutters.

Love pours in from every wing of the unit. Soon all your family and friends start to arrive, as well as Steve’s family and friends. You’re spoiled with ‘congratulations’ signs, and postpartum care packages, and an array of foods that you couldn’t eat while pregnant (i.e. sushi, deli sandwiches).

And with your approval, Steve comes out of the hospital room, ready — and proud — to showcase your baby to the entire world.

“Everyone, there’s someone we’d like for you to meet,” Steve says, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “This is Benjamin Dean Harrington. Benny for short.”

You and Steve end up taking parental leave at the same time.

Your entire day-to-day consists of loving on and spending quality time with Benny. The diaper changes, the cuddles, the nursery rhymes, and everything in between. It’s impossible to think you’ll ever get tired of it. You and Steve have officially transitioned to Mom & Dad Mode.

Until Benny goes to sleep.

As the golden sun peaks in through the cream colored blinds, you feel Steve’s hand trail down your back and down to your ass to grab it. Releasing a soft moan, you lean into his touch, shifting your weight to one side of the mattress.

“Baby…” he moans into you.

“Should we?” your eyes twinkle. “The baby’s asleep…”

He chuckles into your neck, raspy voice sure to be the end of you if he kept teasing you any longer.

“‘m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you barter. “I feel ready.”

———

“Fuck, right there, Steve…”

You grip the sheets tightly as Steve rolls his hips into you, his strokes a delicious mix of pleasure and a challenging stretch. And as you bite into your pillow, your eyes rolling up towards the sky, he maintains the pace you love so much, drilling you in, simultaneously massaging your clit while his quenched lips tenderly suction themselves to the crook of you neck.

It’s your first time together, but it feels like you two have done this before. Your bodies are naturally in sync, knowing where your boundaries lie without needing any cues, and knowing exactly how far you both can take it. Daddy Steve, being the gentleman he is, has your entire body mapped out.

“God I love it,” your overstimulated self whimpers, chest to your chin, ankles dangling off of Steve’s broad shoulders as he rails you.

“Oh, I bet you do, Honey.”

His large hand encloses around your neck, thumb hovering over your lips as he fawns over your mewling, vulnerable body.

“You want my cum, baby?” Steve asks. “Want me to fill you to the brim huh? You wanna have my babies?”

“Yes, I want your babies, Steve,” you moan. “Want all of them.”

And as an orgasm spills out of you, Steve’s spills in, coating you with his warm release as you both unravel in the sheets.

“Holy shit, that felt so good,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest. Steve grins from ear to ear when you kiss him on the chin. “Thank you for making me feel so safe and loved.”

“Well when you’re you Honey, you make it so easy,” he blushes.

Steve rests his hands on your ass again, giving it a faint smack. You bite your lip as he pulls you even closer to him. And as the sun sets, you know round two is on the horizon.

“Anyways, when ARE we having another one?”

———

author’s note: i’m noticing some themes with the way i write eddie smut vs steve smut. i totally write eddie as a rough dom and steve is def a soft dom. not complaining tho, those are my headcannons for them 🤭

divider creds: @silkholland , @elfbar-baby

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wosoamazing · 6 months

Text

Qualifiers

Warnings: Knee Injury, IDK

A/N: Just a bit of a fluffy fic I guess, hope you like it, also I'm currently on mid semester break, so I hopefully will be getting more fics out.

“Steph, have you noticed they’re behaving? Like it’s so quiet” Caitlin remarked as she sat opposite Steph on the bus.

“No, they’re not behaving, they are just asleep.” She replied pointing to the seats where you, Kyra and Charli were all fast asleep, your head leaning on Charli’s shoulder. Everyone shifted their bodies so they could get a view of the three of you, all taking photos, finding the scene in front of them very cute.

“They’re so cute,” “Yeah when they aren't being menaces, Y/N is a really sweet kid though, she just has a lot of energy, I think that stems from….” “Yeah she is great, and such an amazing talent too,” Caitlin rescued Steph as she drifted off, hoping to cover the unfinished sentence, Steph was about to mention your ADHD to the team, all the girls at Arsenal knew about it but Steph hasn't asked you if you were okay with the Matildas knowing.

“How old is Y/N though?” Raso asked

“She turns 17 in June,” “Oh so she is like a baby” “Yeah,” Steph nodded, smiling at you.

“She lives with you and Dean right?” Alanna asked.

“Yeah. Her parents approached us when they found out she was singing for the club and asked if we could take her in, in a way, and we said of course. The club signed off on it and so she moved in with us”

“Wait, how do her parents know you? Or was it random?” “No, we knew them, well more specifically her Dad from our time at Melbourne City, most of you would know him too, he is like on the board or part of the leadership team or something for City as a whole, she explains it much better than I do, but basically he is between all the city clubs and so she couldn’t live with them because they didn’t want her to be alone for long period of time.” They all nodded

“How is she going at Arsenal? She’s been getting a decent amount of minutes hasn't she?”

“Yeah she has. I think she really enjoys it”

“But wait, why does she play for Arsenal if her Dad works for City. Like are they not City fans?”

“Well I don't actually think she is allowed to play for city, but she grew up supporting both Arsenal and City, so I don’t think it really mattered. But I think the main reason is she can't actually play for city.”

“I think she’ll be good for the team, and she is a diverse player, I think Jonas being indecisive has helped that but I mean, it wouldn't hurt to have an all rounder, she is good at everything. I’m just glad she has settled in well, like I know you are all nice and wouldn’t be mean but she is just so much younger, even compared to Kyra. But to be fair she did already know Kyra so that helped. But if anything I’m seeing her more with Charli than Kyra so that is interesting” Caitlin added some food for thought.

“Yeah and something we need to keep an eye on.” Steph said referring to you and Charli spending time together, worried Kyra was getting left out.

_____

You were doing mini drills in teams, so you had a brief break. You walked up to Steph and gave her a hug,

“Hey little one,” she said as she wrapped her arms around you to hug you back “you okay?”

You looked up to her “Yeah, am I not allowed a hug from my Stephy?”

“No, you are, of course you are. I just wanted to check if you were okay. You just seem a little off today that's all. But you know you can always talk to me about anything right?” Tony called both your names out as Steph was finishing what she said, so you let go of the hug rolling your eyes at her, before she put her arm around your shoulders and you walked off to Tony.

“Go have showers and get changed into clean training gear, the media team wants you both. Good work today though, love the effort.”

_____

“Yes Y/N” Tony said as you had your hand up, “Dad is calling me, I’m really sorry but could I answer?”

“Yeah sure, go ahead that is all good, let him know I said hi,” you nodded and walked out, normally Tony wouldn't let such a thing happen, but as you were younger he agreed.

You had just gotten off the phone with your parents, unfortunately they couldn't come to the game tomorrow, City needed your Dad for something, he was very apologetic and he had tried everything he could but City wasn't budging. Steph was right when she said you had seemed off today, because you were, you were just a little overwhelmed by everything that was happening, it was just lots of little things building to form one larger thing. You headed back towards the room feeling nervous for some reason, maybe you just weren't sure, you didn't really know, you hesitated slightly before opening the door, as you took a step in Steph immediately caught your eyes, she nodded to you and you made your way over to her rather than returning to your seat with Mini, Haper, Charlie and Kyra. A few tears left your eyes and Steph sat you down on her lap instead of you sitting down on the empty chair, you dropped your head into your hands and your body shook slightly as you silently cried. Steph rubbed your back as she looked up to Tony, who nodded at her and mouthed ‘go’.

“Hey, I’m going to take you up to my room, do you want me to carry you or do you want to walk?” You didn’t say anything but started walking, she followed behind, once you were out of the room you stopped and turned around to her, she picked you up and started heading for her room again. You weren't actually rooming with Steph but she knew you would want to be with her tonight, for some familiarity, so she placed you down on her bed before quickly going to get what you needed.

“Oh sorry,” Hayley said as she walked into the room, seeing you and Steph, you were still crying, you were just overwhelmed.

“It’s all good, we’ve both had showers so if you want you can have one.” “Thanks.”

By the time Hayley had finished her shower you were no longer crying however you still let out a shaky breath every now and then and from how you were playing with Steph’s rings she could tell you were still nervous. “Hey, you know you’re going to do amazing tomorrow, and if you make a mistake that's okay we all make them, and if you miss, that's okay as well, it happens, we’re humans we can't be perfect. But no matter what we are all going to be proud of you and the way you perform isn't going to affect how we all view you. You know they asked me how I would classify our relationship today, and I told them you were like my little sister. You know I love you right?” you didn't reply but nodded your head, she was a big sister to you, really everyone at Arsenal was like your big sister too you. A yawn escaped your mouth, “Lets get some sleep hey,” you shuffled around to be in a more comfortable position before you softly spoke “I love you too Steph”.

“Is she okay?” Hayley asked now that you were asleep. “Yeah, her parents just can’t make it to the game tomorrow and I think she is kind of scared, but she will be okay,” “Yeah, she is a great player, like really, I might head off to sleep now if that is okay with you,” “Yeah, see you in the morning.”

___

In the 22nd minute you scored your first national team goal, you were ecstatic however 5 minutes later that feeling disappeared when you were pushed, causing your knee to lock before twisting, you heard a pop in your knee, as a pain of wave rolled over it, the world around you went fuzzy, this couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be your ACL, you couldn’t handle that, this was your first cap and now you might be out for 9+ months. You were quickly pulled back to reality by Tony calling all the girls over, who were surrounding you, they all dispersed except for one, who was wiping your tears away, as the medics assessed you. They gave you a green whistle before they stabilised your knee and moved you onto the stretcher, Steph wiped away the last few tears that appeared on your face, before placing a kiss on your forehead, you were then quickly taken down the tunnel, left in your own thoughts, you were so badly hoping it wasn’t your ACL.

There were about 25 minutes of the game left when there was a knock at the door, “come in” the door opened slightly to reveal Steph, whose eyes immediately melted when she saw you, your knee was heavily strapped and in a hinged brace, a pair of crutches leant against the bed.

“Oh, Y/N/N,” she said as she approached you, wrapping her arms around you.

The physio explained to her that you had dislocated your knee slightly, but they were able to put it back in place, she also explained that you had to keep the tape and brace on at all times, until you saw the specialist back in London, she explained they had booked in an appointment for you as well as an MRI.

“Is there any idea of when she can play again?” Steph said, now holding your hand in hers.

“We aren't able to say anything yet, there is no way of knowing what other damage was done, until she gets the MRI, the specialist will be able to tell you everything though when you see them.”

“Okay, thank you, are we able to head out to the pitch, or does she need to stay in here?”

“No, you’re all good to go out. I’ll give you two some space, just let me know if you need anything.” Steph nodded, you looked up to her, her gaze meeting yours.

“Do you want to go back out?” You nodded, “Okay, let's go.” Steph helped you get off the bed and she walked beside you as you slowly made your way back out.

The full time whistle was blown and the stadium erupted, the Matildas had just qualified for the olympics, Steph picked you up and spun you around, “We’re going to the olympics baby!”, you couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t we it was her, their last number 20 did her ACL, maybe the jersey just came with bad luck.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #matildas #auswnt x reader #auswnt #steph catley x reader #steph catley

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perkqularkreashions · 1 year

Text

Last Nice Guy in New York??

Part Two: Living with the Enemy

Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.

Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|

YN's POV

PEACHES grabbed my arm slightly; her eyes wandered over my face, and I thought I saw something in them other than narcissism and an inflated ego for a brief moment. They were soft, a look ventured across her features, and her touch was more delicate. “YN,” she calls out in a tone I barely recognized. She saw it.

I retorted, “Peaches, I have to get going. I have this thing to do for class. But I will see you tonight.” She reluctantly nodded, pushing her lips together in a frown. She turned away, returning to our group of friends. Beck stared apologetically for a moment before turning away with them. Some days, I didn’t feel a part of the friend group; I didn’t live the same life they lived, nor did I want to fake it like Beck does. I couldn’t buy expensive jewelry or spend every day at a high-end coffee shop wasting 15 dollars on coffee and a bagel. I worked on campus as a TA/Tutor, allowing me to qualify for financial aid/assisted living, and being a single parent also helped secure those benefits.

The wind caressed my skin, and the smell of gasoline and pastries filled my nose—the loud chatter of the busy streets surrounded me. I pushed open the solid oak doors, the smell of baby powder, formula, and paper. I was thankful that the Daycare Center was on the third floor, away from prying eyes and judgmental glares. I tapped my toe gently in the elevator as I watched the numbers dance from 1 to 2 and dinging at 3. Hand-painted pictures scattered the walls, bringing life to the dull ward of the campus. Hand turkeys and finger-printed flowers. Photos of children with their names along with their likes and dislikes. I was then greeted by Jessica, one of the students in the Teaching Program –she smiled widely at me as she stood up for a hug. Her arms wrapped around me, her fragrance engulfed as she tried masking the smell of throw-up and other fluids. “Hey YN! Long time no see.”

A responded with a bright smile, “I know you’ve been gone for some weeks. I think Rafi was starting to miss you too.” she laughed brightly with a toothy grin. She moves away from me, leaving me alone in the hallway. I move away from the receptionist's desk. I stare at the art, my finger dancing against the groves of the crayons and paint. I heard his soft babble; swiftly, I turned around and saw his bright, toothless smile.

“It’s mama! Look, it’s mama,” she cooed, pointing her finger toward me. I smiled, adjusting my bag and taking him into my arms, momentarily kissing the corner of his head. The anxiety flushing away as he was safe in my arms. “He hasn’t been around the last month from what I heard; keep doing what you’re doing,” she comforts me, her hand resting on my shoulder. I nodded frantically as I moved away from her.

The ride home was comforting; the soft sound of jazz filled my ears as the mild breeze ran through the enclosed back seat. Rafael slept peacefully in my lap, my fingers dancing against his ravenous locks. I despised that he looked like his father, from his button nose to the beauty marks that scattered his face and arms. He scrunched his face similarly to his father's when thinking or concentrating on a task. He wore a gold bracelet his mother gifted us when he was born. Says that all the men in their family must have one. I contemplated taking it off, but I never found the courage to.

“I’m thankful for him, you know — I am going to be a better father than my dad ever was.” He stared at him, his hand caressing his face, pressing gentle kisses on his skin. “You’re here,” he whispers, “Finally, here.”

“Ma’am, we’re here,” a voice cuts through my wandering mind. My eyes focused on the man in front of me. A sympathetic smile washed over his lips.

I mumbled out a thanks before exiting the cab. I pressed the fob to the door, yanking it open as I hurriedly moved in. “Hey, YN!” an excited voice shouts out from the top of the stairs. Her feet paddle against the floor as she peaks over the guard rail.

“Finally, you’re here! I have been calling out to you all evening!” she jumps in front of me as she smiles at Rafi. I move past her, fiddling my key in the keyhole as I push into the apartment. Her chocolate skin illuminated under the dim lighting in the apartment. Her hair pulled back into a slick ponytail that was loosened ever so slightly. “So, you have a date tonight?”

I laughed, tossing a look over my shoulder.

“Come on, I’m 18 — practically an adult!” she plops down on the couch, tucking her legs underneath as she looks at me with frustration and curiosity.

“It’s a party for a friend.” I laid Rafael down in the crib, moving all the blankets and toys I tossed in earlier this morning. “I don’t do dates, Nicole, we already spoke about this,”

She laughs, “You have a 7-month baby; you do more than date.”

I scoffed in her direction, letting a smile hang on my lips. She giggles at me before her eyes move back to her phone. Her fingers were rapidly typing before her attention turned back to mine. “How’s Rafael’s dad doing?”

I stiffened as I moved to the closet, changing out of my clothes. Pulling on a simple dress, emerging from the closet, I posed slightly. “Approval?”

“Absolutely not,” she laughs, “What kind of party– it doesn’t even matter. We need to get you laid!”

“I don’t need to get anything, I just wanna look nice.”

“You can look nice and edible,” she laughs, “How about a little more boobies and less leg? Something to keep their mind wandering but begging for more.” I pulled out, a periwinkle dress, with a bit of cleavage and less leg; I brushed my hands down my hair, moving them behind my ear.

“Ta-da?” I hummed out, her eyes brightening as she offered me an excited smile. “Yes, now go find Rafael a step-daddy!”

I roll my eyes, moving out of the apartment and waving her goodbye. She was a sweet girl, just graduated high school and looking for some work while she applied to universities. Her mom and dad are professors at Brown and thought it’d be a good idea to push her in the direction of teaching – in their words, “showing her responsibility through taking care of the lives of others. How the responsibility of molding a young mind can be beneficial.”

Arriving at Peach’s house was always distasteful, the high-brow society looking down at me, seeing me as the new charity case for her to pick at and display. I didn’t fit into their society, no matter how often Peaches and Annika tried. “Beckalicious,” I heard over the roar of the chatter; she was usually so easily seen and heard no matter where she stood.

“Is this Joseph?” her voice shrilled in disdain, her arm snaked around Beck with a feigned smile. I chuckled at her momentarily, before returning my attention to the trays of wine that moved about.

“YN,” I heard a voice call out, a hand snaking around my waist and pulling me closer. I froze; the smell of champagne and cheese filled my nose. “I was hoping to run into you! I missed you!” I spun around seeing Liam Hastings; his hair pulled out his face as he wore a chestnut brown jacket with a navy blue button shirt, his chest slightly showing as he flashed me a smile.

“It’s like after you broke up Rafael, you just fell off the face of the earth!” he shouts, his hand slapping against my shoulder as he swallows a nod.

“Just wasn’t the crowd I wanted to be around,” I whispered; he tugged me closer. I clenched my hands, letting this reach his chest, trying to pry us apart. I could feel the air leaving me; my chest got tighter with every breath I took.

“He looks for you, says— you know what he says to me. Keep an eye on you!” he drunkenly laughs; I yank myself away. I found myself, darting up the stairs and escaping to Peaches’s library.

“I’m pregnant,” I cry out. Peach sank to her knees, her hand snatching at my wrist; she examined them momentarily. “I don’t want to have his baby! It was one night and I– I”

“Calm down, little dove, please. It hurts me to see you cry,” she whispers. I flinched away from her as she tried wiping the tears away. Realizing washes over her, her face turns cold as she studies me. “YN”

She called out my name; I didn’t have an answer, nor did I want to answer. “Y/N, Hello!”

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and a soft voice called, “Hello.” I spun around. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I'm sorry. I’m in my little world,” I chuckle, moving my hair behind my ear. I studied how his face was tightly wound together, his shoulder tense, and his brows furrowed with frustration and thought. I recognized him, the infamous Joe Goldberg that Beck had mentioned. “Joseph, right?”

He shakes his head, “Joe, just Joe.” he forces a smile on his lips. His eyes wandered to the bookshelf before back at me.

“Well, Just Joe, I’m YN; I wish I could say we would meet under better circumstances, but–” I laughed momentarily, letting my head fall to my feet. “This is probably the best you’ll get.” He chuckles; it was lighthearted– it filled the air so gently.

“Y/N…?” my name played on his lips. He repeated it a couple of times before silencing. “You’re one of Peaches's friends.”

“Don’t let her catch you saying that,” I laugh. “If she catches you humanizing her too much, she’ll lose her shit. She’s a cold-hearted bitch, but I love that about her.”

“Isn’t she your best friend?” He teased; for a moment, I thought, honest to God, she was everything I needed her to be. She was a cold and calculated bitch, but it didn’t change the fact that when she looked at me, I mean really looked at me… she saw me. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I belong in her world,” I whispered. I begin to move past him; his hand grabs my upper arm. His touch was gentle and inviting. His thumb gently caressed my exposed skin, his eyes resting on my shoulder, and my breath caught in my throat. The noise drowned out, the soft hum of the music, the clanking of glasses, and the chatter of drunken adults. The expectations to be perfect melted away. The world slowly sunk around me. Our eyes finally met.

Carefully, I whispered to him. “Enjoy the party, just Joe.” His grip loosened as the noise around us resumed. I was warped back into the party.

Peaches watched me, her eyes dark and cold. Her hand yanked at my arm as she dragged me closer to her. A dark smile washed on her face. “I saw that.”

“Peaches, let it go,” I whispered; she yanked me closer to her. She scoffs lightly. "It was nothing."

“Stealing Beck’s boyfriend too.” Her words slurred slightly, her tongue tripping over the slight syllabus. Her eyes were red and hanging low; she took pills. “Do you realize how pathetic you look?” I stiffened, holding my head away from her.

“Peach, leave it!” I whisper, my voice weakly danced away in the wind.

“Just like how you stole Sophia’s boyfriend, you steal Becks lowly boy toy?” her voice growing louder, capturing everyone’s attention. Eyes shift, and the music decreases with each word that Peach spews. “Do you realize how you look? I am just trying to protect you!”

“Peach, please,” I begged.

“It’s like you’re trying to win a game that no one else is playing – what getting fucked once at my house isn’t enough?” Silenced washed over us; my throat stung as I watched her. My lips parted as I tried to find the words to combat her statement, to find something to make this seem like banter. My face grew hot, and all I could do was stare at her, tears falling against my cheeks freely and tickling my chin and chest. “YN-” she begins to stutter, her face contorting gently.

“I have to go, Peach,” I whispered, ducking past her as I moved past the crowd. The fresh air slammed against my face, and I sucked in gently, trying to gather as much composure as possible.

Fuck me and fuck her.

#joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg imagines #joe goldberg #joe goldberg x you #joe goldberg imagine #You Imagines #You Imagine #penn badgley imagine #penn badgley #penn badgley imagines #imagines #imagine #requests are open

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v3nusxsky · 10 months

Note

Yes Larissa Weems

Unwrap me 18+

*Authors note~ back with the smut and as you can see this anon got in first with Larissa Weems! Let me know if you liked the game :) Also, Marilyn is non existent in this :( sorry yall*

Trigger warnings~ sub rope bunny R dom Larissa mommy kink, praise n degrading kink, face sitting? In general teasing r bondage? Sex toys squirting

Prompt~ secret Santa/gift exchange for @storiesofsvu holiday bingo

The holiday season crept forward like the predator staking it’s prey, seemingly surrounding Nevermore quickly this year. The arrival of Wednesday Addams and you being the newly qualified bounty teacher instead of her assistant provided enough of a distraction for Larissa. Something she knew had to be due to Mortica being, well Mortica. As her estranged sister, Larissa hadn’t know who you were until she saw all the paperwork. With your niece's arrival brought Mortica, old wounds appearing for you and the principal. Being close to Larissa meant you could see the brief flash of hurt in her beautiful cyan irises before she masked it with her business facade. Equally, she caught your emotions at seeing your niece and nephew again as well as your sister. But she never mentioned it, leaving you to believe it was unnoticed.

With some expected teething problems Larissa was slowly losing her concept of time, not having you being her assistant left her trying to manage Nevermore and all the paper work that came with it. Before she knew it, coach Vald was approaching her about running a secret Santa. Every year he sought her approval to hold this event with all the staff the evening that the students left for their break. A way to unwind really. One of which she was happy to grant, seeing her staff happy made sure the students received the best possible education. This year you would be included as you were now officially on the staff which left the blonde more eager to take part this year.

Drawing her name was single-handedly the best and most terrifying moment of your life. You immediately paled at the realization that you needed to make this the best gift she would have ever gotten. Since that night a few months ago your crush on the principal was becoming more and more predominant in your working relationship. When you agreed to teach bounty you thought the memories of that night would lessen and fade into the background, after all it’s unprofessional but like seed blooming into flowers it grew.

Recently you’ve spent many nights in your bedroom partaking in Shabari art, rope art if you will, it appears you have a natural affinity for it and was something you greatly enjoyed, something only you knew you did. Over the months of doing this art form you’ve acquired a variety of colored rope and lengths of rope, but naturally you have a favorite. Larissa always told you that the wine-red dress you wear to work was simply stunning, so It was only natural the wine-colored rope was your favorite to use. This is where your plan started to form, it was like finally having the jigsaw pieces the right way up which allows you to plan a course of action. Which you did.

Part of your plan was telling your dear friend Vald that you wouldn’t be coming to tonight’s get together but handing him a neatly wrapped present with her name on it. It was all part of the plan little did he know, so he took the gift with a promise of bringing yours to you later that night. After thanking the coach you retreated to your room and set in motion phase 2 of your plan. Get ready for her.

After putting her eloquently wrapped gift in the Santa sack, the blonde woman made her way to grab some wine, a necessity, before searching the crowded room of familiar faces. Yet, not the face she wanted to see here. With a sip of the smooth blood red wine she simply come to the logical conclusion of you running late. Very normal and plausible, no need to panic, yet as the time trickled on she could feel the heaviness of disappointment weighing her down. Truly, the principal wanted to see you, going from seeing you every day to now hardly once a week only highlighted just how much she wanted, no needed, you in her life. Following the realization of just how she wanted you, normally her thoughts going as far to you being beneath her as she practically ascends to heaven with the sounds you make. Because of her.

Chatter and laughter rang out through the party as gifts were torn into and wrapping paper thrown everywhere, yet Larissa was struggling to find the holiday spirit knowing you weren’t here. And as per tradition Larissa was the last person to receive her secret Santa gift, a tradition she installed as she preferred to watch everyone else and bask in the joy and contentment in the room. Unlike her staff, she made sure to unwrap her gift without even tearing the beautiful paper, yet nothing gave her any clues to whom was her secret Santa.

A simplistic rose gold snow globe lay in her palms with a photo Inside the globe. With a gasp at such a thoughtful gift she almost missed then note. Almost. “I’m giggling and laughing and shouting with Glee, you’ve got another gift, but you still haven’t seen me ~ secret Santa xx“ is what the note said. Whoever her Santa was knew how much she enjoys a good riddle, and possibly that she had yet to find one she couldn’t solve. This wouldn’t be the first time for that either. Reading over the clue again and looking at her gift, with a shake and a twist the photo revealed itself, another cryptic clue. “You’ve been here before, in my dreams every night, but in reality you’ve been here twice!”

Bidding the party goodnight, the principal was quick to hurry to where she knew you’d be. The clue being painfully obvious but a reminder of the first time you and her met and that one night you shared In your room. Coach Vald gave her a knowing smile and immediately pulled his phone out to let you know she’d left. See, although you’d told Vald you weren’t going, he didn’t take that easily, managing to get you to spill your genius plan and therefore enlist him to help. By letting you know when Larissa left the party.

Your door remained unlocked, your body intricately wrapped up in wine and emerald colored ropes as you waited for the rest of the plan to set in motion. It was sexy but tasteful and that was everything you wanted this to be, so you couldn’t help the bubbles of excitement in your lower stomach at the sound of her heels clicking along the corridor. Waiting on bated breath you heard the code of knocks from your old job. One, two, three taps before the principal would enter.

If your body wasn’t so restricted you would’ve taken a picture, the blondes jaw was practically touching the floor, her blackened pupils blown wide almost suffocating the beautiful cyan blue color her eyes held normally, her cheeks adoring a pretty pink blush as her eyes raked in your appearance. “Merry Christmas Isa” you mumbled feeling slight exposed under her intense gaze. Maybe you’d done the wrong thing? Perhaps she didn’t want you the way you want her, perhaps that kiss you shared months ago was a moment of madness and that’s all. Perhaps.

Lust. The gate way drug to love for sure, the way you are trapped in her lustful gaze seemingly paralyses you both. “Fuck darlin” she drawled her British accent slipping into her words, “I think I’m in heaven” she murmured before coming close to your roped body. “It’s for you Isa, I want us to be more than boss and employee, more than one shared kiss, more than friends. I want you, and I’d very much like to be unwrapped and tied up in other more intimate and interesting ways…” you tailed off as you could visibly see Larissa battling with her mind and heart.

“Fuck it” she grunted out before slamming her lips to yours, immediately both slipping into a dance as if it had always been this way, meant to be this way even, her hands trailing over your skin and the ropes covering it. “You’re my other present?” She panted out after pulling away from your lips leaving you to whine in protest. “If you want me, your present is this” you informed before taking her hand and pressing it on the skin and rope above your heart.

“Mine” was all she managed to get out before her lips and hands were back all over you in the most deliciously sinful ways. Her painted lips staining your neck as her lips made a home there. Long Nimble fingers skilfully untying the knots to free even more of your soft plush skin to her greedy lustful gaze. And just like that, the hour you spent tying yourself up to perfection was all undone in twenty minutes by your lover. “Isa” you whined a she bit over your pulse point gently, “how did you do that so quick?” A small chuckle followed by her hands roaming everywhere and no where at the same time, “I’m no stranger to this art form darling, now can I please play with my pretty girl?”

Begging. Another thing you wouldn’t expect from the principal that practically radiates dominance with every word she says and steps she takes. But here she was begging to do more than unwrap you, to touch you. No, she wants more and who would you be to deny such a goddess? “You don’t have to beg baby, I’m yours to take, to wrap and unwrap, to make love to, to fuck like your own personal toy and to love.”

Permission given, you weren’t expecting her to be on you straight away, yet she was. The poor woman being absolutely ravenous for you, she wasn’t sure how she’d left your room after that kiss, but this was something she craved deep down since the day you met. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t fantasying over the unsuspecting woman every night. “Please Isa, wanna touch you” you whimpered in protest as she made her way down your body kissing and nipping at the soft skin along the way.

“Oh my sweet girl wants to make me feel good hmm? Shall I sit on that pretty face of yours then darling” was not what you expected to hear but yet found yourself eagerly agreeing and trying to settle the woman on your face before she even had a chance to fully undress. “Y/n! Let go or you’ll get nothing, I need to undress first” the principal squealed trying to add her dominance into her tone but failing. Sheepishly you let her go and watched as she deliberately got undressed slower now. Your silence and patience was rewarded when you were met with her soaked pussy. “Go ahead pretty girl, make me feel good sweetheart.”

And that you did, you were using every skill you knew of to ensure Larissa was getting the most pleasure possible, your tongue expertly exploring her core as your nose bumps up against her clit occasionally while she ground down against your face clearly chasing her impending orgasm. “Oh good girl, yes fuck what a talented slut you are!” caused you to hum in appreciation at the praise and for Larissa to plummet face first into the pool of pleasure, whimpering and mewling all the way for you, you happy drank everything she gave you until you were sure she’d come down from her high and shifted from your face. The sight of her own slick covering your lower face had another bubble of needy heat hitting her like a fright train. You were her own new person drug, and one she’d never quit.

Your own cunt pulsed with need after seeing how well you’d pleased your lover, so much so it distracted you enough for Larissa to expertly tie your arms above you head using the red rope and the green to tie your legs spread open for her. “Mommy” you whimpered in a confused haze causing the blonde to smirk, “that’s what you call me pretty girl? I bet you even whimper it when you make yourself cum at night don’t you?” A timid nod was really all you could do as you tried to avoid her gaze but her hand simply guided you back to look at her. “Oh yes you do because your mommys needy whore aren’t you? Has mommy not been touching you darling? Shall we give that needy pussy of yours all the attention now hmm?” Despite knowing she is goading you you couldn’t help but beg for it. After all she’s not wrong! You do need her more than oxygen itself.

It didn’t take much for you to break and tell the older woman where you kept your toys, and soon enough she’d selected her partner for the night to assist her in your pleasure without knowing she’d chosen your favourite. “Now sweet girl, you’re going to be a good girl and take what mommy gives you?” She teased, fingers playing with the slick coating your cunt and thighs. “Be good please mommy want you to fuck me” you whined squirming as best as you can until her palm met your thigh, “none of that sweet one, you’ll get what you need.”

If only you knew what that last sentence had meant before she started you would’ve tried to change her mind over the choice of toy. You’d lost count how many times she had brought you over the edge, with her mouth, the toy and a delicious combination of them both. Each orgasm growing in intensity as you thrashed against the bindings and whimpered pleads to slow down. Larissa knew your safe word, a drunk conversation months prior had you confirming it was the word light and your reasons behind it, but you hadn’t used that so of course she kept going, teasing her like this for a secret Santa deserved a little punishment. Right?

“Mo-my mommy! Can’t Isa! P-ple-ase gonna pee!” You squealed again feeling something so intense about to crash into your body. A foreign white hot pressure of pleasure threatening to wash over you if she didn’t stop this instant. “It’s okay darling, let it take you, such a good girl for mommy, go on love, soak my hand for me, that’s it good fucking girl” she praised as you gave into the overwhelmingly intense feeling. “Oh fuck fuck mommy!” You mewled desperately bucking against the toy and her mouth in a pleasurable pain as you drew that last few moments of pleasure from your body. “Wha? No more mommy please!” You whimpered causing the blonde to remove herself, the bindings and the toy from your overstimulated body and throbbing hole. “Oh god! I peed!” You gasped before trying to hide yourself In the blankets and pillows. “You didn’t sweetheart, you squirted for me. And it was so incredibly sexy darling. I can’t wait to make you do it again for me” you lay there allowing her soft tone wrap around you as the words sunk in. At some point in the silence her hand began to trail over your back and praises continued to fall from her lips. “Thank you for my most special present my little Santa” she teased with a kiss to your head and rolled you over to kiss over your heart, “I’ll cherish it forever, just like I’ll worship you forever, in this life and the next, merry Christmas darling.” Curling up in her arms listening to her heartbeat and being lulled to sleep couldn’t have made you more grateful for a secret Santa gift exchange.

Word count~ 2,637

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #v3nusxsky holiday treats 2023 #storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023 #larissa weems smut #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #weems smut #dom larissa #larissa smut #principal weems x reader #weems x reader #larissa weems

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sissylittlefeather · 10 months

Text

I wrote something!!!

I'm not sure if it's any good, but the writer's block passed long enough for me to get this one done. I hope you enjoy it!

Hot for Teacher

A/N: an AU in which you and Elvis are teachers at a high school together. Special thanks to @ccab for helping me come up with the idea for this one! Also, this is a slow burn, but the payout is worth it, I hope!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation, also some baby talk during sex kinda?

Word count: ~5.5k

It's 1965, so this is our Mr. Presley:

You'd been the art teacher at Central High School for almost five years when they hired a new choir director in 1965. You were sad when Mrs. Sparks retired because she had been your director when you went to the school, but you were curious about who they were going to bring in. When you found out it was a man, you were definitely shocked. You didn't know men could teach in a school as anything other than a coach, but the principal assured you he was qualified.

When you see him on the first day, you almost drop all the art supplies you're carrying. He is the most attractive man you've ever seen in your life. When he notices you struggling with the armful of supplies, he runs over to help.

"Can I take some of this for ya, honey?" His southern accent is as smooth as butter and you're glad he's there to catch the supplies as you almost drop them again. He takes a bulk of them from your arms and then gestures for you to lead the way to the classroom. Once inside, you show him where he can unload the supplies. He walks over to you and extends his hand.

"I'm Mr. Presley, Elvis Presley. I'm the new choir director." You take his hand and shake it slowly.

"I'm Miss Y/l/n, art teacher."

"Miss not Mrs.?" He looks at you sweetly.

"Yeah, just Miss." You make a conscious effort not to look down at your feet, but his gaze is so soft that it makes you nervous.

"Well, it looks like we'll be sharing a hallway, Miss Y/l/n. Nice to meet you." He smiles and your stomach clenches. His blue eyes and perfect smile make the blush rise in your cheeks. You aren't used to being in the presence of such an attractive man.

"Yeah. Thanks for helping me." It sounds dumb but it's all you can get out.

"You're welcome! Well, I better head back to my room. If I need any help, can I bother you again?" You nod to let him know he can bother you whenever he wants. Then, he backs out of the room smiling and heads down the hallway.

******

At the beginning of the second week of school, he pokes his head into your room just as you're getting ready to walk to the teachers' lounge for lunch. You've seen him in the hall a couple of times, but there hasn't been much to your conversations beyond politeness and brief answers to his questions about the school.

"This might sound silly, but where do you eat lunch?" You noticed that he hasn't been eating in the lounge, but you never guessed it's because he doesn't know where it is.

"In the lounge. It's on the second floor in the sophomore hall."

"Oh. Do you mind if I come with you?" You look up at him. Is he asking to eat lunch with you? No. Surely he just wants to know where the lounge is.

"Yeah, sure!" He nods and smiles, almost seeming relieved that you said yes. You grab your lunch box and walk with him up the back stairs to the lounge. You assume that once you get there, he'll sit somewhere away from you, but he doesn't. He settles in right next to you and starts to unload his food.

"How long have you been here?"

"This is my fifth year."

"Did you teach somewhere before this?"

"Nope. This is my only school."

"So you're, what, 26?"

"28. I went to graduate school before I started teaching." You're not sure why your age matters, but the more you talk, the more comfortable you get with him. He's very easy to talk to because it feels like he's really listening.

"This is my 8th year teaching, but I started at a bigger school as an assistant director."

"How are you liking it here?" He smiles and the conversation continues through lunch.

He walks you back to your classroom and thanks you for helping him find the lounge.

"Same time tomorrow?" He asks when you reach your door.

"Oh, yeah, sure." You're not sure why he's so excited to eat lunch with you, but you're not complaining. He's so cute and surprisingly good company.

When the kids make their way into the room, you hear a group of girls whispering and catch pieces of the conversation. You definitely hear "Mr. Presley" and something about wearing a short skirt. At first, you roll your eyes, but then you say a quick prayer that he's not one of those teachers.

******

Your lunchtime together becomes a ritual and before too long, you both come to expect each other's company while you eat. One day, you have to stay in your room while a group of girls works on a project. He pokes his head in to pick you up for your walk to the lounge, but you gesture to the girls.

"No lunch date today?" He asks, disappointment in his voice. Your mouth pops open at the word date, but you close it quickly. However, the group of girls definitely notice both his use of the word and your reaction. They look at each other and giggle.

"No, I'm sorry. I have to stay with them."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I should be available."

"Good!" He smiles and backs out of the room.

As soon as he's gone, the girls elbow each other trying to get the other one to talk. Finally, one pipes up.

"Miss Y/l/n, are you dating Mr. Presley?" You feel your cheeks get hot.

"No. I'm absolutely not."

"Why not? If he looked at me like that, I would!" They erupt into a cascade of giggles and your cheeks get even hotter.

How does he look at you? Surely, they're just seeing things.

******

It doesn't take long for the rumors to start flying around the school about you and Mr. Presley. You finally hear one that makes you blush and you decide to talk to him and see what he has to say about them. When you walk to his room after school, he's sitting at the piano and there's a group of girls all fighting for his attention. He's trying to get them to focus on whatever they're supposed to be practicing, but they're too busy trying to flirt. At first, you get a little nervous that he's feeding into their efforts, but it doesn't take you long to realize he's not just oblivious, he's annoyed by them.

"Girls, let's go back to the beginning." He practically hollers just before he sees you in the doorway. He instantly stands up, towering over the heads of the teen girls, and smiles at you. They all stop tittering and turn to see what earned this reaction from him. When they see that it's you, they completely fall apart laughing.

He looks around at them confused and ushers them away from the piano to get their things and leave the classroom. Just as she's leaving, the last girl snickers.

"We'll just leave you two alone, then." He looks up at her suddenly and then back to you.

"What was that all about?"

"You haven't heard? Apparently you and I are doing all kinds of unspeakable things when the students leave." Now it's his turn to blush and look at his shoes.

"I try really hard not to listen to what they say about me." You hadn't considered how hard it might be for him to be taken seriously looking the way he does. He looks back up at you, the little piece of hair on his forehead bouncing with the movement.

"What should we do about it?" You ask.

"Well, we could just make the rumors true." He smiles devilishly and you inhale sharply. "I'm kidding, y/n."

That's the first time he's called you by your first name. You honestly wonder how he knows it. You're also completely caught off guard by the obvious flirtation of his last statement.

"I'm sorry. I've just found that the best way to deal with this is to joke about it or ignore it completely. Trying to deny it just makes them talk more. Trust me on this."

"Okay. If that's what you think is best." He walks over to you and you feel like he's trying hard not to touch you.

"It'll blow over. They'll be bored soon and move on to some other rumor." You nod and look up at him. There's an undeniable energy between you, but you choose to ignore it. You walk away and head for the door of his classroom. "It'll be fine."

"Thanks. I'll see you later." You head back to your classroom, nerves lit up like a Christmas tree. Was he kidding?

******

You continue like this for the next few months, eating lunch together and hanging out in each other's classrooms after school. Eventually the rumors cool, but they still come up every once in a while. You learn to ignore them and the giggling that happens any time Mr. Presley sticks his head into your classroom to ask a question. But you still haven't learned to call him Elvis, despite him asking you to regularly. When you're alone, he calls you by your first name. There are several more occasions that feel specifically flirty, but they're never overt enough for you to know whether he's serious or not.

In the spring, he decides to take his competition choir to a contest in Florida. He needs a female chaperone, so he asks you if you'll go with them. You're not sure how you feel about spending a weekend on the beach with 20 high school kids and this man that you can't stop thinking about, but you decide to say yes when he comes practically begging with his big blue eyes.

"Please, y/n, I really need a female teacher to come with us. Everything is paid for. It'll be fun."

"Okay, but where exactly are we going?" You ask tentatively. His eyes start to sparkle when you say okay.

"Fort Lauderdale. There's a big choir festival there every year. And the kids get some beach time. It'll be great."

"Beach time? We have to chaperone them on the beach?" He laughs.

"Nah, we'll let them run wild for that part." You reach out and shove him playfully without thinking. That's the first time you've ever really touched him and there's definitely something there that makes your heart skip a little. He gives you a look that seems to indicate that he felt something similar. There's a moment where you're looking at each other before his classroom door opens and the principal walks in, breaking whatever was between you.

"Mr. Presley, did you find a female chaperone for your trip?"

"I did! Miss y/l/n has agreed to come with us." The principal looks between you for a second and then shrugs.

"Sounds good. Just make sure you keep the kids safe, keep them out of trouble, and bring back a trophy." She turns and walks out, leaving you alone with him again. You look back at him and raise your eyebrows.

"Guess there's no backing out now."

"Nope." He smiles and you almost melt. Why does he have to be so attractive?

******

When it comes time for the big beach trip, you pack your most modest bathing suit and head up to the school to get on the bus. You're nervous about how you'll handle being the only two adults with 20 teenagers. You're also nervous about spending so much time with Mr. Presley away from school. Until now, you've never seen him outside the four walls of the high school. You settle in the front seat with your bag tucked up underneath you, assuming he'll sit in another seat. But he doesn't. He sits right next to you.

"Good morning!" His proximity makes your stomach flip flop.

"Hi, Mr. Presley." He sighs.

"Elvis, please. You can call me Elvis." You nod, but have no intention of calling him by his first name. He stands up and gives the kids some announcements and rules to follow before the bus pulls out. The drive is long, so you get comfortable and look out the window.

Once you're on the road, the conversation flows naturally between you and the time passes quickly. The kids are well-behaved when you stop for lunch, so you relax quite a bit about your chaperone duties.

When you roll into the hotel around dinner time, you're all ready to get some food and relax in your rooms. The kids need a good night of sleep before the competition tomorrow morning and beach time in the afternoon. He orders pizza for the group and everyone makes their way to their rooms to eat. You check on all the girl rooms while he walks around to the boy rooms and you meet back in the middle at your rooms. He has a pizza for you to share.

"You wanna eat in my room or yours?" You didn't think about the fact that you'd need to be in one room to share the food.

"Um, let's do your room." He smiles and opens the door for you to walk in before him. Then, he walks to the bed and sits on the edge, patting the bedspread next to him. You plop down next to him and grab a slice of pizza from the box. He grabs a slice too and sets the box down on his other side.

"We've had lunch together a lot, but this is our first dinner date. I wish it was a little fancier." He smiles and holds up his pizza. There it is again, the word date. Does he want to date you? You take a few more bites of pizza trying to work up the courage to ask. He seems to know what you're thinking, though, and addresses it before you can.

"Y'know, y/n, I wouldn't mind taking you out to a real dinner sometime." He swallows hard and looks down at his pizza. It's almost like you make him nervous too. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"I'd like that." He looks up at you quickly, a relieved smile on his face.

"You would?"

"Mhmm." You nod, smiling back at him. As you finish eating, you talk about different restaurants in town that you could go to when he takes you out. After the meal, you talk for a while before you decide to head to bed. At the door, you turn to thank him for the meal and before you know it, he's pressing his lips against yours, with his arms around your waist. You're shocked, but it doesn't take you long to wrap your arms around his neck. You stay like this for a while before he pulls back and presses his forehead to yours.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time."

You're still in shock that he kissed you. Asking you out was one thing, this was something else entirely. Still, there's a big part of you that wants him to keep kissing you. The fact that you're in a hotel room becomes glaringly obvious and for half a second you forget that you're there to chaperone teenagers. But it comes screaming back to you when there's a knock on the door. He jumps backwards away from you and hides you behind the door as he opens it.

"Mr. Presley, we were wondering if there was any extra pizza?" It's a group of boys that are apparently still hungry. He grabs the pizza from his bed and walks back to the door, handing it to the guys. Once the door is closed, he looks at you with a big sigh of relief.

"That was close."

"Yeah. I should get back to my room." He nods and peeks out the door to make sure the hallway is clear. You move quickly toward the door but he grabs you one last time and plants another kiss on your lips before you can stop him.

"Elvis!" You hiss as you break away from him and sneak over to your door.

"You called me Elvis!" He stands there with a crooked grin on his face as you blush and make your way into your room.

"Goodnight!" He whispers as you nod and close the door to your room, leaning against the back of it breathing heavily. Everything that just happened feels like a dream and you're not sure where to go from here.

A not-small part of you imagines slipping back into his room later once you're certain everyone is asleep. But you shake your head to get rid of that idea. Just because he kissed you doesn't mean he wants you in his bed. Does he?

Oh well. You won't find out this weekend. You wash your face and put on your pajamas. Tomorrow should be interesting.

******

The contest in the morning goes really well and the kids are proud to get a trophy for second place. They perform well and you can tell Elvis is proud. He's beaming when he comes to you after the awards ceremony and wraps you in a hug. It takes about thirty seconds for you both to realize that the students are looking at you.

They elbow each other and whisper, so he lets go quickly and corrals them back to the bus to go back to the hotel before their beach time. You stand there in awe for a minute before you take up the back of the line and make sure everyone makes it where they belong.

******

Once you get to the beach, the kids spread out and claim spots on the sand. You lay out your towel where you can be sure to keep an eye on them and then take off your cover up. You feel eyes on you and look over to see Elvis standing and watching you.

"Is this spot taken?" He asks, gesturing to the ground next to you.

"Nope. I saved it just for you." He laughs and sets out a towel next to yours. He has on scandalously small shorts and a small button down. You try not to stare as he sits down.

"That is a bold outfit choice." You say jokingly.

"What? It's what I wear to swim!" He tries to defend himself.

"You trying to impress these 17 year old girls?"

"No, I'm trying to impress you." He almost whispers. You look up and meet his blue eyes, and you feel like if you don't look away, he'll lean in and kiss you right there on the beach.

"Well, it's working." You whisper back as you look out to the water. He smiles and looks over to where the kids are.

"I could say the same thing about your bathing suit. You trying to drive these boys insane?" You snap your head over to him incredulously.

"I guarantee you they don't notice-"

"I hear what they say about you. I'm not the only one with a crush." You feel your cheeks get hot.

"Oh, stop."

"I'm serious. You really think that many boys are interested in art?" You have noticed an unusual number of boys in your classes. Is he right?

"I never thought-"

"You're a beautiful woman, y/n. I can't say that I blame them." If it weren't for the kids you'd tackle him right then and there. You've never made love on a beach, but he's making you think about it.

"Careful. We have a job to do here. You're distracting me." You say it playfully, but you're more serious than you sound.

"Good. The kids have to sleep eventually." He runs his finger down your arm softly, and you get goosebumps. There's an undeniable electricity in his touch.

The rest of the day is spent like this, with whispered flirtation and stolen touches. By the time the sun is setting and it's time to head back to the hotel, you're both so turned on that you're not sure how you're going to make it through dinner without jumping on him.

******

Somehow, you survive dinner at a decent seafood place close by. He wrinkles his nose when you order shellfish and you mock him endlessly when he orders chicken. But it just continues the game you've been playing since the night before. By now, the kids have to have noticed how sexually charged you both are. But if they do, they don't say anything or do anything to indicate that they do. They're too wrapped up in their own teenage melodramas to pay attention to their teachers.

When you get back to the hotel after dinner, you make sure everyone is securely in their rooms and then head back to your own room.

He looks both ways down the hallway to make sure you're alone and then pulls you into a deep kiss, this time parting your lips with his and sliding his tongue into your mouth. He presses your body up against your hotel room door and rolls his hips into you.

"I've been trying so hard not to do that all day." He whispers into your mouth after he pulls back. You whimper a little bit and he kisses you again.

"Elvis, we can't do this. Not here."

"No, you're right. I just needed to kiss you." He kisses your forehead and then pulls away from you, looking at the ceiling. He rearranges his pants, so that his erection is less obvious.

"Goodnight, y/n. I'll see you in the morning." He moves back to his door and opens it with the key. You open your door and you both walk in, closing the doors behind you.

******

In your room, you walk to the bed and sit down, sighing. You'd give just about anything to be in a hotel room with him not chaperoning kids.

You lay on your bed fully clothed for close to an hour before you finally decide you should get ready for bed. As you're walking over to your suitcase, you're surprised to hear a soft knock on the door. You assume it's one of the girls needing something, so you walk to it quickly. When you open the door, though, it's not one of the students. It's Elvis. He walks into the room and shuts the door behind himself.

"What? Why?"

"I can't stop thinking about you." He reaches out and puts his hand on the side of your face. Then, he leans in and kisses your lips gently. He hovers over your mouth and then kisses you a second time. The third time he opens your mouth with his and his tongue grazes yours softly. He hovers again and whispers.

"Do you want me to stop?" The feeling of his lips on yours is intoxicating and you need so much more of him.

"No." He dives into kissing you fully, tongue dancing wildly against yours, and hands wrapping around your midsection to grab your ass and pull you into him. Your arms immediately go around his neck, as he pulls at your clothing. He drags your shirt up over your head and off and you desperately tear at the buttons on his. He starts to walk backwards toward the bed, removing his shirt and shoes as he goes, but never letting his lips leave yours. You follow him, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra and toss it to the side.

When you get to the bed, he sits on the edge and you climb on top of him, straddling him where he sits, your naked skin pressed against each other. You make out like this for a while, feeling his erection pushing against you through his pants, before he stands up with you wrapped around him, turns, and lays you back on the bed with him on top of you. As he's kissing down your neck to your chest, he whispers again.

"You're sure this is what you want, because I'm about to hit a point where there's no stopping." You smile and nod your head.

"Yes. Don't stop." You feel him smile against your skin as his tongue circles your nipple, his fingers pinching and teasing the other. His hand grasps your side as he continues to kiss down your body to the spot between your bellybutton and the top of your pants. He removes your pants and underwear together, pulling them gently down your legs and revealing the most intimate part of you to him. Then, he kisses your ankle before sliding his hands up both of your legs, settling himself between them.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful." You've never heard him cuss before, but something about it makes your core throb. He slowly drags a finger up your slit and finds the sensitive spot at the top. "And you're already so wet for me, baby."

He starts to massage your clit and you moan and arch your back. You've never known a man to make you come so undone with just his hand. He slides his finger back down and pushes it into you, moving it in and out before adding a second finger. That's when he leans over and presses his tongue to your clit and you almost scream. He moves it over and around the hardened bud as he slams his fingers in and out of you quickly. You feel the coil of your orgasm tighten as he continues to lick you and fuck you with his hand. He feels your walls flutter and whispers into your clit.

"Come for me, baby." The subtle vibration of his voice is the last thing you need to push you over the edge and you dive into oblivion, your toes curling as the waves of pleasure rush from your core out to your extremities and back again.

"Oh, God, Elvis." You moan as you ride out the high of your orgasm. He kisses your hip and slides his fingers out of you, wiping his face as he moves back up your body.

"How was that, baby?"

"That was incredible. Don't tell me you're finished?"

"Oh, baby, I'm just getting started." He takes your hand and puts it on his hardened member and you begin to stroke him through his pants. He undoes the clasp and slides them down and you're surprised to see he isn't wearing any underwear, so his cock bounces free easily. You're not sure what you expected, considering the rest of him is perfection, but his cock is beautiful. It's uncut, long, and straight and it makes your mouth water just looking at it. But you'll have to taste it another time because he doesn't waste a second lining himself up with your entrance.

"Are you ready for me?" He kisses your mouth again.

"God, yes, please." He nods and pushes into you, slowly filling you up. The sensation is delicious and you whimper because he's going so slow.

"Your little pussy is desperate for me, huh?" He smiles and you nod aggressively.

"Well, she's going to have to wait." He teases and starts to pull back out.

"No! Please!" He laughs a little at how needy you are.

"Alright, baby can have what she wants." He pushes into you swiftly and deeply, stuffing you to the hilt. This time you moan together.

"Goddamn, you feel so good. So tight and wet for me." He kisses your neck and starts to pump in and out of you passionately. His hips slam into yours rhythmically as his balls slap your ass. You've never felt anything so satisfying and you wrap your legs around him to make sure he doesn't stop any time soon.

"Yes, fuck me." It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it and he laughs again.

"Baby has a dirty mouth. Maybe she needs to be punished." He pulls out of you and moves your legs from around him, turning you over onto your stomach. He pushes your legs together and finds your pussy, slipping into you from behind. Then, he slides one hand up under you to rub your clit, grabbing your hair and pulling gently with the other. He kisses the back of your neck and shoulder as he continues to fuck you, finger making circles on your sensitive nub.

"How's that, baby?" All you can get out is a moan and a whimper. It feels so good and you're right on the brink of another climax. The feeling of his dick inside you and hand working your clit is almost overwhelming. Two more thrusts and you tumble over the edge again, electricity bubbling in your veins as you come hard.

"Yes, Elvis! Fuck!" You say it through gritted teeth. Your orgasm seems to send him over the edge too and he pulls out quickly pumping his cock until his release shoots out all over your ass and back.

"Fuck, yes, baby, that's so good." He moans as he comes on you. Then, he rolls over onto his back next to you and you prop your head up with your arms.

"I'm sorry; I really intended to turn you back over, but I didn't make it." He smiles at you sheepishly.

"I'm not complaining. That might be the hottest thing that's ever happened to me."

He rolls off the bed and fetches a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up. You turn over to face him on the bed and he pulls you in close until your skin is pressed up against him again. He puts his hand on your cheek and kisses you deeply.

"I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a fantasy come true." You laugh and look into his eyes.

"It was for me too."

"Can I stay with you?" He runs his thumb across your cheek.

"What if the kids need us and we're in the same room?"

"Well, then they'll have a good story for when we return. Come on, I'll leave before anyone is awake in the morning. I just want to hold you a little longer." You can't argue with that. The feeling of his body against yours is everything you've ever wanted.

"Okay. But you have to leave really early." He smiles and snuggles into your hair.

"I promise."

******

The next morning, you're awakened by a knock on the door. Elvis is still wrapped around you and you're both naked.

"Miss y/l/n! We can't find Mr. Presley! Abigail is sick!"

He pops his head up when he hears his name.

"Shit shit shit!" He whispers, frantically trying to find his clothes. You glance at the clock in your state of panic. 6:27am. He should've been gone by now. You pull your robe on and he hides in the bathroom as you answer the door.

"What did you need?"

"Sorry to bother you so early. We tried knocking on Mr. Presley's door, but he didn't answer. Abigail has a fever."

"Okay, well, we will need to call her parents. We're going home today anyway, so there's not much else we can do. Thanks for letting me know."

"Do you know where Mr. Presley is?"

"Oh, he's probably just asleep."

"We knocked pretty hard..."

"I'm sure it's fine. Go on back to your room. I'll be there in a bit." You close the door and he comes out of the bathroom and wraps his arms around you.

"That was close." You sigh and lean against his chest.

"Yeah, but it was worth it." He kisses your lips gently and then goes to finish getting dressed. You start to get ready and he gives you one last kiss before sneaking back to his own room.

******

You make it back to the school without any other incidents. The girl with the fever is reunited with her parents and sent home. None of the other kids seem to suspect anything happened between the two of you. Once all of the students are sent home with their parents, you realize you're alone with him again.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Nothing. This wasn't just a vacation fling?"

"Not for me. Was it for you?" He looks at you worried.

"Oh, no. I was just making sure."

"Can I take you to dinner? Without the students this time?" You laugh and nod your head yes.

"I wonder how long we'll make it before the kids figure us out." He ponders out loud, taking your hand and walking you to his car.

"Oh, I'm sure there'll be new rumors about us tomorrow. Might as well make them true." You give him a sly look and a wide grin crosses his face.

"Baby, that's the best idea you've ever had."

******

Fin

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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itsgodepi · 11 months

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If I lose my mind | Ch. 6

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.8k Also on AO3

It is stupid really, the little things you do to reassure yourself that this is not the reality. You found an article the second or third day in France whose headline read something like How to tell if you’re dreaming: 5 steps (with pictures) —yes, it’s from wikiHow, so what? Your mind is playing tricks on you so you won’t believe the important sources—, and you have been following it like a ritual ever since.

For example, it says to always check your environment for distortions, that appearances can be deceiving in the dream world. And although it talks about your house being different from what you remember or objects looking strange, being in a completely different country from where to sleep in seems to fit that description just fine.

Another step had been to test your strength and abilities, if you can fly or lift extremely heavy objects, you are clearly not awake. You are not ready to admit the number of times you have tried jumping off the hotel bed and levitating without success, but you would say driving a Formula One car is quite a remarkable skill to learn overnight.

The one stage you had not been able to get past had been to consider other people around you and analyze whether their presence made sense or not. From the beginning you have been surrounded by strangers, Nick and what he calls the team, journalists and other drivers. This combined with the fact that you have not been able to contact your family or friends yet, has made this step the trickiest one to overcome, nobody during these past few days being able to really tip you off.

That is until you saw the fucking Fernado Alonso strolling into the drivers’ briefing like it was nobody’s business.

You had never been too interested in Formula One, the races and everything surrounding the sport honestly bored you, but that was one thing and not recognizing Fernando Alonso when he is literally sitting in front of you was a completely different one. Your father would kill you if that had been the case, how could you not recognize the Spanish driver who you had spent countless afternoons seeing your dad and uncles cheering for when you were a child? It made no sense. So, although he now wore a different team’s shirt —the characteristic blue clothes you remember, nowhere to be seen— and had shorter hair, you were 100% sure of who he was.

The man’s presence alone managing to convince you once and for all that this was not real.

That is why, now that you are back in the paddock, jumpsuit zipped almost all the way up and a smile on your lips for the camera, you feel somewhat calm. You have made it through a third practice and the qualifying session in one piece, all ready and prepared to fulfill your media duties in front of more strangers like this is an everyday thing. No recollection of the hours you’ve been seated in that deathtrap of a car fighting for P15, not a single memory of the other car whose lap you supposedly impeded, no nothing.

It is not a good result, you are aware of that, but you are hoping to win a few positions in the race tomorrow and maybe the first points of your career. Well, that is what you are advised to tell the interviewers at least, how the car is working great under these conditions or something like that. You cannot remember half of the script at this point, but you had done well enough when you were under the spotlight.

Thankfully, Saturday’s activities have finally come to an end, only a couple social media videos left to record and you will be on your way back to the hotel in no time. The garage is almost empty at this hour, a few mechanics hanging around, taking a last look at the car and organizing everything they need for tomorrow’s race. Nothing compared to the first time you stepped inside building.

The media coordinator is running late, the whole filming crew is. They were supposed to be in the garage before you even finished the media conference, taking some shots of the car and speeding off the process so you could have some rest before tomorrow’s race. And yet, here you are, trying your best not to doze off in one of those uncomfortable highchairs near the screens while Nick tries to sort things out. He had instantly gone in her search when you arrived, muttering something under his breath as he stormed out of the garage.

It is not like more than ten minutes have passed really, but the jumpsuit and fitted clothes you wear underneath are killing you. You should have changed without permission, get onto some nice clean clothes before they came back. What is the worst that can happen? A person made up by your imagination is going to come and scold you?

“Oh, you’re still here!” a soft voice wakes you up from your thoughts, your eyes tiredly trailing through the garage to see where it is coming from.

Must be someone from the team coming to see what the mechanics are doing, the men still fixing things here and there when half of the pack has already gone back home to rest for the biggest even of the weekend. You would feel bad for them were they not literal products of your imagination.

However, after fighting with your sleepy brain for a bit, you realize that you recognize that voice, your gaze searching with renewed energy for the man in question. What is Charles doing here?

You find the driver walking into the garage through the pitlane’s door, his red jumpsuit still hanging from his hips and his hair a mess. His tired smile is contagious, your own coming to play on your lips as he nears your seat. You try to pick up the things you had hazardously thrown in the chair next to yours, thinking he might want to take a seat after the long round of interviews he must gone through, but you soon understand he has a very different idea in his mind.

Before you can even react or greet him with more than a simple “Hi”, the man is pulling you into a big hug, his arms wrapping around your waist as his face comes to hide on the crook of your neck. Charles lets his full weight rest on your body, your highchair giving him the perfect opportunity to do so as he stands between your legs, like he cannot keep himself upright any longer. “Haven’t seen you all day...” Charles sighs into your shoulder, squeezing your body tighter as if he was letting go of all the accumulated stress, slowly relaxing his hold after a few seconds.

Confusion paints your features, your arms awkwardly resting over his shoulders while you try to figure out what the hell is he doing.

It is strange, the sense of familiarity that his touch brings you, the way he molds himself to your body as his thumbs draws circles on your lower back making you feel so at peace. You try to push all those feelings down with a frown, patting him on the back and trying to squirm out of his hold.

The man seems to not be ready to let go off you though, simply relaxing himself in your arms like this is not literally the third time you have ever seen each other. Charles has been nice to you in the few encounters you have had and all, but that does not make this sudden invasion of your personal space any less weird. And it is not like you are alone either, the mechanics moving around the two of you like this is no big deal, not a second glance at the situation you got yourself into.

“Com'è andata la giornata?” Charles whispers after a while, voice muffled by the collar of your top since he refuses to break the hug.

What did he say? Did he just... speak in a whole different language? It is bad enough that you are dreaming in English..., this is getting ridiculous. Are you just going crazy in your sleep or something?

“Hm?” you confusedly answer, both to gain some more time to make sense of what he asked about and to leave room for him to repeat the question. Maybe you didn’t hear him right? Yeah, that must be it.

Charles chuckles onto your skin “Troppo stanca per rispondere?”, the soft graze of his breath over your skin making you shiver, hairs standing on end.

What is he doing? Treating you like you are best friends or something when you are not even acquaintances in the first place, and while he keeps talking to you in a language you do not understand, mind you.

The man finally puts some space between the two of you after the total lack of response, his face emerging from your neck so you can be face to face. Nonetheless, his hands still come to claim a place on each side of you, leaning into your personal space without a care in the world around you. You can’t even get off the chair because he is in the way!

There is a silly smile playing on his lips while all this thoughts bubble in your mind, his head tilting to the side as he continues “Or have you already given up on Monza?”

“I guess I have” you manage to respond after the initial shock, the high-pitched tone of your voice betraying your nerves and giving away just how unsure you are of what exactly he is talking about. You make a mental note to look up what this Monza thing means in case he brings it up at some point, or maybe you should simply run away from him if he is going to pulls something like this again.

“It was too soon anyway,” Charles shakes his head, regarding you with such a soft look that you almost forget he is a stranger, his actions confusing you even further “You’re putting too much pressure on yourself, there’s no rush... We can practice over the break, just study a bit more and we’ll see how it goes”

And since you are completely lost in the conversation, you decide to give a simple “Okay” as your response.

You have mixed feelings about the interaction, the bittersweet taste it left behind coming to hunt you when you spot him the next day. Of course you were going to see him, he is a driver and today is race day, but that does not make it any better. You have felt so alone this past week, missing your loved ones locked away within the four walls of the hotel room, that although his proximity had been completely unwarranted and unwanted when he first hugged you, something inside you started missing his warmth as soon as he stepped away.

Images of yours and Charles conversation keep playing over and over in your mind as you walk through the rows of Formula One cars, back into your race suit while you get through the mass of mechanics and cameras filling the road. The car is already formed up on the grid —yes, you have incorporated some F1 concepts into your vocabulary after all the research—, the prerace activities having finished a while ago and the worse part of the day looming over you.

Charles is standing at the front, in that area separated from the rest of the road by white barriers, talking with a taller man that you do not remember ever seeing before. The big logo on his chest gives you some clues though, the two bulls facing each other painted on his race suit giving away which team he drives for. A Red Bull driver.

It is nice to finally understand the whole color coordination stuff between the car and your clothes, courtesy of the hours you have spent behind the screen researching about the sport. There are ten teams with two drivers competing for each one of them, some of their logos easily recognizable while others —like the one engraved on your shirt for example— are impossible to remember. Don’t know half the driver’s names yet still, only had time to search for mister Carlos Sainz’s whole biography after what happened in the drivers briefing. He is also Spanish, a fact that heavily surprises you, either your mind has made this person up or your father talked about him enough that his presence in the sport has stuck in your subconscious.

You decide not to walk towards the two men when you enter the area, not because of what transpired yesterday between you and Charles or out of shyness, but due to the strange behavior he has been exhibiting since this morning. Not only him, but all the other drivers you had previously met as well. While they all had been overly familiar and playful with you during Saturday’s meeting, they seemed to be avoiding you throughout both the prerace activities and now the ceremony.

Everyone except for Lewis.

When you had come out onto the track for the first time that day, made to walk alongside your teammate, Mick, to one of the vintage cars that would be taking you on a lap around the circuit, you had felt fairly uncomfortable. Mick had not uttered a single word to you outside of the meetings and interviews, only ever greeting you when there were cameras around and even then, it was easy to see how forced it was. It is not like Mick was being hostile or rude towards you, his comments about you always polite and short, it felt more like he was indifferent. The driver preferred to keep you at an arm's length if possible. However, even that indifference felt like a slap to the face when you were surrounded by strangers pushing cameras into your space.

So, although Lewis had his own army of microphones and videographers at his back when he came over to greet you, in your eyes the man looked like your own personal saviour.

Who could blame you for the way you gravitated towards him later on in the private area? Away from your teammate and those other drivers that had not dared to send more than a tight smile your way when your eyes accidentally met. On the other hand, Lewis had always been welcoming, a source of calmness that managed to make you forget about everything happening around you even if just for a second.

“I wanted to stay back for a few days, go to a show in Cannes, but then I’d have to fly straight to Hungary...” Lewis complains, arms crossed over his chest as he walks you to your designated spots on the road

“I can’t wait to leave, honestly” you confess with a chuckle, surprising yourself with the way you are treating the matter of flying from one country to another every week with such apparent normalcy. Well, amid all this chaos, with twenty Formula one cars at your backs and thousands of people watching from the grandstands, taking a flight is one of the most normal things you have experienced so far.

Lewis lips stretch into a big smile at your outburst of sincerity, his dark eyes crinkling at the sides “I see you didn’t like France at all”

“It’s not that...” you try to justify yourself; it is not like you had seen much of the country in this past week either, your schedule tight enough as it is to try and also squeeze some sightseeing in there.

Would Nick have allowed it anyway? The man had kept you on a short leash since day one, only granting you some alone time at night and even then, he knew exactly where to find you. The happiness with which Lewis recounts his trips around France and recommends a few places to visit before you leave on Tuesday, makes you miss that newfound freedom you had experienced during your external practices in Spain, the taste of that amazing adult life they had been promising you since before you started the university.

Truly, not everything in this new stage of your life had been as incredible as they had portrayed it, those liberties came with harsh responsibilities that you were clearly not handling well. Are you seriously whining about not having time to walk through the beautiful streets of this French city when you would be incapable of travelling here on your own in the first place? You are only ‘here’ because you are living through the longest and weirdest dream you have ever had, this city does not exist, the floor you are standing on is not real and you have most probably made up all that information you have gathered in those sleepless nights.

And last, but clearly not least, the realization that for some reason overwhelms you the most and marks the rest of the ceremony: Lewis is not real either.

Next chapter

___

Author's note: it's so nice seeing you're enjoying the fic, I hope you liked this chapter as well. Thank you all so much for reading!!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you #f1 imagine

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ninthcircleofprythian · 4 months

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A Pocketful of -- Ragweed?

My contribution to Azris week - I fully intended on just enjoying everyone's talent and being the casual observer. But this idea latched on and wouldn't let go. I know this could technically be slice of life theme but I think it qualifies as contact too. So enjoy this tiny snippet. Special dedication to @chairofchaos for being the best brainstorming buddy and my biggest fangirl.

Warnings - Nothing but fluff, also uneditied in any way, shape or form. We die like men.

The sound of the tea kettle stirred Azriel from his quiet morning reverie. With a quick flip of his wrist he folded the newspaper he had been reading and laid it down, the reading glasses perched on his nose quickly followed. He moved gracefully through the kitchen, tucking his wings as he rounded the island, following the familiar path he did every morning. Every morning the same routine.

Right on schedule, the sound of the front door latch and a flurry of paws echoed down the hallway. Az was quickly greeted with cold noses pressed against his still bare thigh and wagging tails whipping through the air. His shadows swirled themselves in a frenzy between the excited appendages. Bringing one hand down to their level, he gently patted each of the hound’s heads in turn while he poured the two steaming mugs of tea. Every morning the same dance.

Settling the kettle back upon the stove, Azriel’s hand popped a slice of bacon from the plate next to him, breaking it into small pieces.

“Don’t tell,” he whispered, bending down to hound height. The tails of the hounds whipped even faster, knowing what was coming. Every morning the same treats.

“Stop feeding them bacon,” came the snide remark from the hall. Az just laughed.

Appearing in the doorway, Eris glared. “They are highly trained animals and you are spoiling them.”

“Mmm, yes,” Az smiled into the face of the nearest hound who was licking the grease from his fingers. “Highly trained indeed.” It was just last night that they were piled into the bed between them, stealing all the covers. At Eris’ request of course.

“Still not dressed I see,” Eris commented cooly on his mate’s attire. Brief shorts and white undershirt. Every morning the same banter.

“Good morning to you too, my love.” Azriel winded his legs through the mass of hound bodies with ease, reaching his mate for a kiss.

Eris’ hand slid up to meet Azriel’s cheek as their lips met in tender reunion. Even just an hour apart left him longing for this warm brush of skin against his own. Every morning the same touches.

Taking note of Eris’ other hand, Az nodded. “What’s this?” This was a change. Something different.

Pulling the hand from behind his hip, Eris brought out the hidden treasure. A bundle of plants with the occasional flower. “For you,” he handed the bundle over, his face just as neutral as usual.

Azriel grasped it from him gently, staring down at the gift in silence. Some of the sprigs were drooping, others snapped off their mother plant in haste and showed the damage. “Thank you, my love. It’s -,” Az began slowly.

“I know it’s not pretty,” Eris threw out hastily before softening his gaze. “But it’s you. That’s why I picked it.”

Az’s quirked brow in silence was his only reply.

“This one here,” Eris started as he dropped his gaze to the bouquet between them, his finger trailing along the petals of one of the only flowers. “It reminded me of your eyes.” The flower was golden in color, bleeding into light green at the center.

“And this one,” his voice dropped into a smooth register, pointing out a still tightly closed bud. “Smelled like night rain.”

Pointing again to another sprig, this time a length of fern, Eris continued. “This one reminded me of your shadows when it moved in the wind.”

Azriel felt a small shudder race down his spine as he watched those long elegant fingers slipping deftly between each plant. It reminded him of how those same fingers traced along the path of his scars in the quiet of night.

“And here,” he went on. “This one hung from the vine just like that lock of hair that always falls across your forehead.” Eris brought his look back to his mate’s face in confirmation. Sure enough, that lock was hanging low, dragging against Az’s brow. With a gentle push of his fingertips, Eris swept that lock back into place only for it to fall once again. A bright smile lit up his face.

Neither of them were staring at the bouquet any longer but Eris continued. “And this,” his hand brushed against a fiery autumn red leaf. “When it fell in my path it brushed against my cheek ever so gently.”

Azriel could feel himself holding his breath as his mate’s eyes seared into his own as Eris finished, “And if felt just like the touch of your hand.” With his words, Eris drew his hand down the side of Az’s face, knuckles dragging feather light over his cheek.

Along with the breath that rushed from him another shudder claimed Az’s body, this time reaching his wings with a tremble. “It’s beautiful, Eris.”

His smile only brightened further. “I know. That’s what I said.”

Every morning the same and yet Azriel could still be surprised. Leaning down slightly he claimed another kiss, this time less than tender.

As Eris pulled away, the ghost of that bright smile still lingered upon his face. “You’re over steeping the tea, love,” he quipped before turning to grab a vase from the cabinet.

Az could only laugh as he turned back to the stove, grabbing the mugs to return to the table.

Every morning the same and yet his mate still snarky as ever. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Autumn Court divider designed by @tsunami-of-tears can be found here .

@chunkypossum @the-darkestminds (I know this isn't the Azris fic I mentioned but I figured you would want the tag anyway)

#azris week #azris #eris vanserra #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #eris x azriel #azris fluff #acotar fluff #azris fanfiction

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dizzyduck44 · 11 days

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“Following qualifying, there has also been considerable speculation about whether Norris really passed a yellow flag or if he braked too early upon seeing it, while McLaren team boss Andrea Stella said immediately after the session that "a yellow flag [was] displayed that ultimately wasn't necessary".

The FIA has now confirmed to Autosport that Norris did get shown a yellow flag on the digital activation system that lights up marker boards and car cockpit lights during the brief incident.

A marshal deemed it necessary due to the presence of Ocon's slow-moving Alpine approaching a critical section of the Baku track - the car damaged when the Frenchman clipped the wall exiting Turn 4 (where Franco Colapinto crashed in 1) a short while earlier.

Ocon had been returning to the pits and was previously being covered by white flags that warn other drivers of a slow-moving car ahead as he did so, but it is understood that given the part of the circuit Norris came upon him - just before the high-speed left and right of Turns 18 and 19 - the aforementioned marshal decided to trigger the yellow flag warning for this particular mini-section.

That was quickly turned off when Norris and Ocon had continued on, with FIA officials satisfied with the marshal's action - per information gathered by Autosport in Baku.

Norris had immediately backed off as a result of the yellow flag, then returned to the pits when engineer Will Joseph informed him he was unable to try and complete another lap in Q1, after the Briton had reported the yellow flag activation.

Joseph then said, "Mate, I'm sorry - they shouldn't have done that", regarding the yellow flag.

Speaking to Sky Sports F1 about the incident immediately after qualifying, Stella said:

"The team didn't say [there was a yellow] because it was displayed last-minute."”

So yes effectively one person can play king maker.

And the FIA are fine with it.

Sound familiar anyone? An action that disadvantages one driver and one driver only.

#azerbaijan gp 2024 #lando norris #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1blr #fia

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ericsprincess · 1 year

Text

i can't stop for you and me

nc-17, Sung Hanbin/Reader, office au, lawyer!reader, also bully!reader (kinda), doormat!Hanbin, cunnilingus

~~~

A/N: Reparations ;) This is a gift for a friend. I'm not a ZB1 fan and I don't know them well, so I hope it’s at least a little bit of a fitting scenario for Hanbin.

~~~

Fucking CUTE. You think while spinning your pen between your fingers. You’re sitting behind your big wooden desk, peeking over the dossier that you’ve been pretending to read for the past 15 minutes, your eyes scanning through the office in front of you, until they find your favorite target - your new pretty assistant, Hanbin.

To be honest, he’s not even doing anything particularly cute, he’s quite literally just doing his job, staring into a computer screen and typing occasionally. He’s that pretty and adorable just by existing, with his delicate porcelain doll face and black hair.

I should have hired that old lady, you lament, but you know it’s bullshit. You knew you’re gonna give him a job offer the moment he walked into the meeting room for his interview, all fresh from school and excited to start his career. He looked so proper and polite, thoughtfully answering every question, even daring to blush and sweat under your scrutiny. You took one brief look at his CV to check if he’s qualified enough, and he was. There might have been better, more experienced candidates, but you decided to do this thing for you, just this once. Treat yourself.

And now it’s coming back at you in full force.

This is not good. This is a problem. His presence makes you feel things and all of them are inappropriate at the very least.

It’s not helping that he would obviously bend over backwards to make you happy. You don’t even need to finish the question and he’s already eagerly rushing to complete whatever unnecessary task you made up this time. No request is dumb enough for him to object, and you actually tried. He would just happily go about his way to fulfill it. You could send him to sort cases by alphabetical order backwards and he would just ask when it’s supposed to be done. Sometimes you like to ruffle his feathers a little more by giving him work that he’s clearly not ready for, like that one time where you made him give a presentation to your client instead of yourself. You actually thought he’s going to faint, but somehow he powered through it just by sheer determination, earning an approving smile and nod from you, going all red in reply.

Not to say that thanks to his good looks he solved your perpetual problem of missing partner at every work function and dumb dinner party with clients. Now you get to drag your handsome assistant along as your plus one to every event, where you can not only parade him around, but also enjoy him fussing over your comfort, bringing you drinks, holding your coat or bag and even driving you home. You can see the jealousy in others and it makes you secretly happy.

You wouldn’t be able to do that, if you hired that old lady.

And even today, despite being already long past his shift, he still decided to stay working late, just because you did. The office is already empty and dark, the only sole source of light shining on his face is his computer screen in his cubicle and the light coming out of your glass walled office.

He rubs his eyes.

You slap the dossier down on your desk.

“Hanbin-sshi, can you please come here for a second?” you call out.

“Yes, ma’am,” he immediately replies and gets up. He’s sluggish and obviously tired and you almost feel bad for him. Almost.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asks.

“Yes. I would like you to run to the Starbucks, I want some coffee. I’d like a venti pumpkin spice latte-” you pause, seeing as he’s struggling to fish out his phone to take notes. “with four shots of espresso, almond milk, light caramel drizzle, light foam, one pump of pumpkin sauce, one pump of maple pecan sauce and salt topping. Thank you.” you smirk at him as he’s dutifully tapping everything down.

“No problem, I’ll be right back, ma’am,” he bows a little and rushes out of the door.

Your stomach rumbles. Actually.

“Actually!” you call out, but he doesn’t reply. You jump out from behind your table in hope of maybe being able to catch him, but when you run out of the office you can see he’s already left.

Oh well. Maybe I’ll just send him for the second time, when he gets back.

You turn back to return to your office, when his computer pings with a message.

Huh? He didn’t lock his computer?

You take a look, and really - he didn’t. He must have forgotten or just didn’t care, since no one else is left at the office at this time.

Moreover, the message is not from your designated work chat app, but from a personal one. You lean forwards to take a look at the unread notification.

matt says: so how’s the late hours with the sexy boss going? dude you’re a masochist.

You blink. Without any hesitation you click on the chat and scroll through the last messages.

hb says: fuck it's getting really hard to hide my boners from her

>every time she orders me around i can barely think

>i just go home and jerk off everyday thinking about her bossing me around

>if she ever finds out im screwed

>i literally stayed working late, just in case she wants something

>she could ask me to eat her pussy under her desk and i would just crawl under

>matt i’m so fucked

Your reflection on the computer screen twists into a wide grin. Oh. What a beautiful bunch of revelations.

You had a hunch that he must like taking orders and feeling accomplished by completing tasks, but you didn’t know it’s sexual for him. Much less, that it’s because of you, in particular. But hey, at least it validates your own interests in this little game.

You do your best to curb your giddiness and return back behind your desk. Hanbin appears a few minutes later, with your coffee in hand and a little bag in another.

“Here, ma’am. I also took the liberty to bring you some snack, since it’s really late and you must be hungry.” he hands you both.

You open the little back and pull out a blueberry muffin. “Thank you, Hanbin-sshi,” you take a bite. “It’s like you’re reading my mind. I hope I’m not putting you through too much trouble.”

“Oh, no, really, it’s not a problem,” he’s quick to assure you, shaking his head.

“Hanbin-sshi, it’s such a joy to have you. You’re always so eager and helpful, I could not pick a better assistant,” you smile kindly at him.

“T-thanks, ma’am, this really means a lot to me.” he stutters, cheeks already burning red.

“Sometimes it feels like I could ask you to eat my pussy under my desk, and you would just crawl right under, wouldn’t you?” you ask with a smirk.

He freezes. Gotcha.

“I-..”

“You?”

“I- I actually, I would,” he admits. He looks nervous, like he's sure he’s busted, outed as a pervert and will be fired immediately. It looks good on him.

“Okay,” you nod and push yourself off your desk on your chair. You gesture at the space. “Be my guest.”

He looks at you disbelievingly, as if he’s not sure if you’re serious or if it’s just some kind of a prank. But eventually, he seems to make up his mind.

He slowly falls on his knees. He looks at you, as if to check whether it is really something you want, and when he sees you’re not putting a stop to it, he slowly crawls on his all fours under your big desk.

You roll your chair back to its place. You look down, where two big eyes are staring right back at you.

“I hope it were not just empty words, Hanbin-sshi. I’m sure you don’t want to disappoint me,” you warn him.

“No, of course not, ma’am,” he hurries to assure you and visibly gathers all the courage to actually touch you. He runs his hands over your legs and leans forwards.

He starts kissing your thighs, while bunching your skirt up, even daring to suck and lick a little at your skin. He slowly gets to your pussy and he doesn’t hesitate to lick over your panties, already wet ever since you discovered his true feelings. It’s like he’s trying to get as much of your taste as he can through them, licking until they are completely drenched with both your juices and his saliva. He’s kneeling in front of you, holding you around your hips, his whole face buried in your crotch, like he doesn't care if he can even breathe.

It feels good and you’re getting more and more aroused, but you can’t wait for a more direct stimulation. You grab him by his hair and pull him off you by force. You quickly lift yourself up to pull down your panties, and he frantically helps, even tries to dive back in, but your hold won’t let him.

You look into his eyes and wait a second until he calms down a bit, while he whimpers. He’s all red and clearly aroused and he looks so pretty, you’re sure you will never forget this sight of his delicate face, eager to pleasure you.

“Now you can,” you say and let go of his hair. He doesn’t hesitate a moment and quickly leans forwards to get back your pussy.

It feels like his tongue is everywhere. He’s licking all over your pussy and trying to push his tongue in. You have half a mind to tell him to use his fingers, but his tongue already feels so good, you want to see if he will manage to make you cum only like that.

And it seems he will, since when he moves to your clit, it’s basically game over for you.

He’s clearly bringing out his A-game, rubbing all over your clit with flat tongue in cruel tempo, building up your pleasure, until he can tell you’re getting close, then switching to quicker flicks, his mouth sealed around your pussy as if he was making out with it.

You’re getting close and you know he can tell, just by the sounds you’re making. You’re so wet it must be dripping off his face. He’s tireless, his tongue never stopping, he’s even moaning a little, as if it was him being pleasured.

You grab him by his hair and push him even closer and then you’re cumming, smothering him with your pussy and juices and not letting him breathe at all, not until you’re finished. He’s not fighting it, letting you ride his face as much as you need, slowly coming down from your orgasm.

You let him go, and he takes a deep breath. He looks up at you.

You roll your chair back a little. You take a moment to enjoy the look at him all out of his mind, kneeling under your desk, red, sweaty and disheveled. He’s breathing heavily, aroused and undeniably close to orgasm, without even touching himself.

“Are you hard, Hanbin-sshi?” you ask.

It’s a stupid question, his cock is obviously tenting his pants, even leaving a dark wet spot on them. But he nods regardless, eyes glazed over, face still wet. His black hair is sticking to his face a little.

“If you manage to drive us to my apartment without either crashing or cumming, I’ll suck you off. What do you think about that?”

You can see his breath hitching. He doesn’t even need to answer.

“Go get your coat.”

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aaivii · 4 months

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Sooo, this my take one the Canadian Grand Prix, and as an OP81 supporter it will mostly be focused around Oscar's race and some of the people around him, so if you're expecting a race de-brief here, don't!! Also if you're an Oscar fan, do read the whole thing, I don't think you'll be disappointed.

So, he qualified P4, and again in his own words, not bad but not great either. But what's done is done unless luck decides to favour him at least fucking once and make someone else ahead of him make an error and get their penalty but they don't 😤🤷‍♀️. Some good drivers they are so.

And then in the first half of the race, my heart bloomed everytime the commentators (the Crofty and Brundle one) were like the McLaren drivers are preserving their tyres, and I was like, yes bitch!! Of course they are. I understand that these were cooler conditions so it was albeit easier, but on a situation where George was absolutely sending his tyres, these two were maintaining it. And Oscar is definitely not there yet, but the progress graph says he'll be there absolutely 100%. Cut him some slack, second season guys, remember.

So, they maintain their tires nice and good and some safety car shenanigans later, we come to the last part of the race, where I genuinely feel the McLaren strategy department fumbled a win. Might have not been a 1-2. But would definitely have been a 1-3. During the last safety car, they should have switched to hards just like Mercedes as a response because we already saw Gasly putting some serious 1 or 2 laps when the conditions were favorable. So, that was a genuine fumble.

And as for Oscar Piastri, how !! I mean, I saw some people in ig being all like, mclaren remember you have two drivers, lando should have given the drs. Golden boy blah blah. But that was a good call by Oscar to not switch. Because rarely have I seen a driver being like that. Everyone always jumps at the prospect of replacing their teammate who is clearly ahead. But he obviously played the longer game. And correct call, because Mercs were absolutely after him, so if they had fumbled that switch even by a second it would have been two mercs on that podium. So, I fully agree with his decision to not switch and also it was him fighting with mercs the longest that allowed Lando to not be jumped by Lewis or George because they were clearly the fastest.

And as for that drs call, asked by him, have to agree with that, even if it felt like swallowing a bitter pill because had Lando given him the drs it would have been sooner rather than later, getting jumped by the mercs because again they were the fastest car this weekend. And this is not some closed wall street circuit, and I know many were thinking of that Singapore moment, those were overtake is difficult, so Lando prioritising his own race was correct in my opinion, it allowed him to keep building on that gap which was crucial. Because imagine had he given that drs, mercs would have overtaken both of them and mclaren would be left with zilch.

Also, a salty and cunty part of me is all like, alright mclaren made a fumble with their drivers in terms of tyre changes and calling them to the pit at the correct time, but hey!! At least their drivers were all slick n clean throughout the whole weekend. Not same could be said for mercs whose both drivers and management fumbled a win together. Suck it!!!

And the hottest moment of the race was when George decided that he would do hard racing, around the Wall of Champions hoping Oscar would back off. But what this pootling, and hunky dory and whatever words using man forgot, that he would be racing against a man who has not once in his life lost his calmness and coolness. Fuck the Wall of Champions George Russell because before that, you'll have to face the unfazed Wall called Oscar Jack fucking Piastri who went like no sir. You are not gonna do that. And you know what the best part was, George's whole vibe during the last segments was like that all muscled up dog, but it all went nada against Oscar. He was like this is my corner, and it is going to be my corner. Yoy want to go ahead of me, use your car which is clearly faster than mine. Which he managed. But guess what, it remained his corner at the end. Whoever has decided to race hard against Piastri, we all know, it has blown up on their faces at some point, by their own mistakes btw, because Oscar races hard, but most important, he races clean. So of course, this cost George a few seconds with not enough time with him to catch Lando. So see!!! Karma bitch!! For me, that was THE moment!!!

All in all, a good weekend for the papaya fam. Please don't be like those some people on ig, like Lando vs Oscar, because in the long term, it was a good decision at the end. Times like this I am glad that I'm not twt, because if ig comments are like this really don't wanna know what's going down there.

#op81 #oscar piastri #ln4 #lando norris #canadian gp 2024 #mclaren #george russell #mercedes amg f1 #f1 #formula 1 #race rant #i had to get this out of my system

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agendabymooner · 1 year

Text

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (6)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Toto makes it harder for her to not flirt in front of the cameras, and with the comfort that came with it, Tilly doesn’t even see the bad parts of the media. Not until the next day.

Content warning: Age-gap, mention of Kimi Raikkonen flirting, whipped!Tilly and Toto caught in 4K, touchy feely vibes, brief use of explicit language

Note: We getting that communications studies degree starting this fall 😩 omw to bag that f1 money ykwim 🙈

Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 140 FOLLOWERS?! You guys are batshit crazy and I love you all for it. I hope my cracked-out thoughts somehow made your day… or more. Here’s another chapter for our dearly beloved Toto. Enjoy xx

masterlist

vi. love on camera

I’ve been with the sky sports people for almost three hours now. My feet are thankful for sticking to a pair of low pump heels instead of running around the paddock and garage with a five inch heel.

And I’ve been thanking myself for dressing well enough today. It doesn’t even look like I’m here as a support for Red Bull. My linen shirt is loosely tucked in my bell-bottom jeans, two buttons are undone to allow the air to flow freely through my body. The Chanel belt hugs me so tight, I feel as if I have little to no oxygen to breathe in. A Red Bull jacket is worn over my shirt, and I left it unzipped as I feel warm.

I had never worked on a full live set before. It was nerve wracking to say the least. But after finding out that my father practically sold me, I feel as if I have nothing to lose. Suddenly I’m worse than a pessimist.

My sisters made sure to tell me that I’m live on television by sending filtered photos of myself. Our youngest sister is the one having the field day with the group chat. She’s been showing her friends that I’m on television. She better be thankful I love her. I never enjoyed being the topic of a discussion. I’ve heard enough from Christian, thank you.

So far, I haven’t thrown up nor fainted. That counts right? That means that my first two interviews went alright. I just have to laugh along. That’s what I did with Fernando and Kimi. They just laughed along, and flirted a little with me.

Or rather, Fernando joked and Kimi flirted; something about going for a drink? Yeah, certainly. The man doesn’t even talk much, but the Iceman definitely suggested we went for a drink (the right words were: “There’s a bar downstairs at the hotel that you may like.”) Fernando’s married and has a nearly year old baby— I would really hate to do something demoralizing.

It turns out, laughing along with their banter will bite me in the ass. Because I know my sisters will be the ones laughing at the television.

The cameras are already recording and I can’t hear myself speaking as I introduce Lewis and Nico Rosberg to the camera as if I’m speaking to an audience. Then I remember talking about the qualifying today, asking Nico about taking the pole for tomorrow.

My words are simply flowing out of my mouth as the interview goes on.

“Are you excited?” Few minutes passed by, I then turned to ask Lewis a question.

“For wha’?” He asks, obviously confused as he zoned out during my conversation with Nico.

“Home race? You coming from Britain and representing the country?” I remind him before joking, “Or did you forget you’re British too?”

“I certainly did,” he realizes what I meant just about now, “but yes. I’m very excited. If the weather treats me right tomorrow, I’m confident that I’ll be able to make it to somewhere of a higher rank.”

“It’s okay, Lewis,” I chuckle, Nico rolls his eyes beside me. “You can say P1. No one’s going to be against that.”

“You want me to get P1?” He teases me.

My face gives an incredulous expression, making him laugh. I joke, “I feel like I’ve told you this a million times now, Lewis. Do you want me to whisper it in your ears while you sleep too?”

“God, no,” he shakes his head with a laugh, “your support is highly appreciated, Tils. I am so glad you’re here.”

“That’s why you should go for P1 tomorrow,” I nudged him, microphone still in hand.

“Only for you, lovely,” he lips pucker up as I roll my eyes and place my flat palm against it. He murmurs against my palm, making people around us giggle.

Nico adds, “I think you shouldn’t appreciate her support that much, mate. She still works at Red Bull.”

Lewis finally pulls away and gives me a mocking dirty look, “Right. I knew there’s something dodgy about you.”

“Thanks Nico, for turning my own best friend against me,” I exclaim in a cheery tone, a smile still in my face as there’s a voice incoming. There he is.

My smile widens, I feel like I’ll have wrinkles at this early age. The space immediately shrunk when Toto stepped into the scene. He stands a few inches taller than me, interrupting his drivers’ interviews.

“And here we have,” I introduce him to the camera and ask him about his thoughts on his drivers’ positions for tomorrow. I absentmindedly nod, looking at Lewis and Nico here and there to avoid being caught staring at the tall bloke. Have you ever seen someone so fit you’d continuously waffle on about them until he gives you the chance to snog you? This certainly isn’t me talking.

“Are you supporting Lewis tomorrow?” He asks me with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Surely you are, right?”

“I’m wearing a Red Bull jacket, guys,” their voices let out the heaviest laughter I have ever heard. “I’m certainly supporting Lewis, a Mercedes driver, to win tomorrow. Me, someone who’s wearing a Red Bull jacket.”

Then, as I was chatting with the drivers, Toto pulls his sleeves up and takes off his black jacket, the three pointed star and his name embroidered. His outstretched hand holds the jacket in my direction as I pause from talking.

“What, what is this?” I ask, almost playfully. What’s he doing?

“You said you can’t support Lewis because you’re wearing a Red Bull jacket,” Toto shrugs with a cheeky smile, “you can have my Mercedes one. It’s a bit big but so is your jacket.”

“I really am jesting, Toto,” I giggle, watching him pull his hand back with a little smile. “I’ve said that I won’t be playing favourites so I will stick to my neutral place.”

Lewis reaches for the microphone and speaks over it, “She’s lying. She’ll support me regardless of what jacket she wears. Us Brits have to stick together.”

“There you have it, folks,” I gesture at Lewis, “he’s explained it perfectly well. Us Brits have to stick together, indeed. I hope I don’t get banned from my own workplace after this— if I did, thanks Mercedes.”

“Well we told you that we’d be more than willing to take you in,” I look at Toto as he smirks, “it would be a shame for their part if they let you go.”

“You lads flatter me so much,” I roll my eyes mockingly, grinning at the three as I say, “As I said, I’m supporting Lewis because it’s Lewis. I did not say I favour one team over the other.”

“You will, soon enough,” Nico chuckles.

Lewis pulls me in and says, “If I win tomorrow you should do what you have to do.”

“What do I have to do?” I ask him, wondering what he’s hinting at.

He shrugs and whispers to my ear, “Go on a date with Toto.”

I pull back and stare at him for a second. I really considered that huh. As if I hadn’t gone already.

“I have already. So don’t get too cocky, eh,” I tell him, his eyes widening as he eyes Toto for a second, my nudge tells him to stop as I dismiss the matter, “having an ego can get you places. But not P1.”

“Watch me,” Lewis grins at me. Like a piece of shit. His eyes also are asking me to tell him more about what was just revealed. I nod briefly, excited to tell him about it.

“Well,” I look at the camera, “that’s it for today. Tomorrow will be the 9th race of the 2014 FIA World Championship and we cannot wait to see how these drivers perform in such weather conditions. Best of luck to all. My name is Tilly and I hope you have a good night. Thank you once again, guys.”

It didn’t take long until the wires on my body were taken off by Lydia, their media pen assistant. Nico and Lewis had already left. Toto waits for me until I start walking off the scene.

We walk all the way to the motorhomes, silence shared between the two of us.

“You left quite fast earlier,” Toto utters. This is the first time we’ve walked together since earlier this morning, and this is the first time he’s spoken to me after I’ve managed to avoid him hours after the breakfast date. I look at him.

Then I remember walking away from the scene after arriving at the venue. Now I know what to tell him after seeing me speed walk from the sight of him and the journalists.

“Some of the reporters in there were the same people who harass me whenever I’m out and about,” I explain, not wanting to make a big deal out of it as I continue, “I didn’t want to be the centre of the attention today especially now that… yeah.”

“With you interviewing the drivers for Sky Sports, I can assume Christian told you about Julius’ promotion?”

I let out a heavy sigh, shutting my eyes close for a moment as I tuck my hands into the pockets. How do I not lose my shit?

“It’s something Julius needs to speak to me about,” I grimace, “if he wants me to do this then he’ll have to tell me upfront.”

But it’s not like he’ll ever show up. I’ve never seen him since the day I was called to his office building. That was when I was told about this role that I didn’t think would be… important and big.

“He’s a bit more involved than I thought,” I laugh humourlessly, “I don’t even know how to start with it. I don’t know how you do it.”

“You’re just handling however much you can,” he tells me, “Christian and the others are more than happy to help you get a head start. You don’t have to get yourself involved with the engineering and strategy part.”

“I have three degrees,” I deadpan, “three of which have nothing to do with building a car, let alone know the full terminologies. So between my father and I, I think I have less advantage in this field and he’ll most likely fail if I’m the one taking care of it.”

He pauses for a second, making me stop walking as well. My eyes are staring at his dark ones, my brows quirked at his sudden pause.

“You are confident in front of a camera,” he starts, “I think you should be confident with how you will handle the business passed on to you, no?”

“Yeah I suppose,” I sigh, putting my head down as I keep my hands tucked into my pockets. “I need to stop being sad.”

But his chuckle did it for me. That and the way his heavy hand reached to mess with my hair. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Where?” I ask him, looking up at him once more only to witness his eyes twinkling.

“Back to the hotel because we all have a long day tomorrow,” he tells me, “that, and I do not exactly wish to have a conversation with any other people at the moment.”

“Pshh,” I scoff with a grin, nudging him while I wag my eyebrows, “I have heard a lot about you from Christian.”

“Huh? Really?” He asks, his face has a mischievous smile that I’ll never mistake for someone else’s. I’ve seen him smile a lot. It’s quite a shame other people never did. He’s handsome and not many people have seen it. Too bloody blind, if they haven’t.

Or he needs to smile more. But that’ll only scare people off.

“Yeah,” I nod, “something about you deliberately approaching him yesterday?” I raise a brow, still not letting go of my shit eating grin. I then notice the collar of his jacket and reach out to fix it as I playfully say, “Some may say that you’re interested in their acting Liaison.”

“Hmm,” he hums as if he’s considering it, “did I not show you that earlier today at breakfast?”

I burst into a fit of laughter as I shake my head, as if I’m telling him, “Unbelievable.”

Have I ever mentioned that this is happening around other people? People with cameras?

And here I am whining about adding fuel to the fire. It’s quite difficult not to if the man in front of me continues on doing what he does best. Existing.

#formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula one x oc #f1 imagine #f1 fic #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff fic #toto wolff fanfiction #mercedes amg imagine #formula one fluff #f1 fiction #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic

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frankenjoly · 3 months

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ALSO

"I don't kiss and tell." + chuuran

“I love your lipstick” + sigsano (either romantic or platonic)?

aaand we have chuuran with exes skk (you can choose if there's polyamory and they also get together eventually or not) + for the sigsano i did it so it can either be pre-relationship or platonic :3

chuuran + “i don’t kiss and tell”

“It’s not fair, by the way.” Chûya was saying, not entirely seriously. “Like c’mon! How come that you basically know all my datin’ history at this point but I barely know anything ‘bout yours?”

“Well, I don’t kiss and tell, Mr Fancy Hat.” Ranpo answered, in the same demeanor, making Chûya groan, partly because that statement was ridiculous and partly in an attempt to hide a brief laughter. Breaking the charade so soon wouldn’t be as fun, after all. “What? Y’know I’m never wrong.”

“Maybe you aren’t, but that doesn’t mean you cannot bullshit on purpose.”

“Oh? You think I was lying when I said that?” A clearly fake innocent smile accompanied those words.

“Nah, just sayin’ y’know who I dated ‘cause: one, you’re smart as fuck and two, you’ve met the fucker in person. And we both know he spilled it all the goss once the cat was outta the bag.” There wasn’t any need for Ranpo to confirm that, even; Dazai not hiding a ton of things anymore right after the Agency in its entirety got to know he used to be part of the mafia was something that could qualify as public domain in their circles. “If you say shit or nah when it comes to your own record track has nothin’ to do with that.”

“Uh-huh. What can I say except ‘well played’, babe.” Smiling wide, Ranpo leaned in a little, with an offer for a kiss on the lips that Chûya instantly took.

sigma & yosano/sigsano + “i love your lipstick”

“I love your lipstick.” Sigma said, and Yosano’s immediate response was grinning, grateful and proud.

“Aw, thanks.” She had noticed them glancing at her make-up every now and then already, but instead of commenting on it had chosen to let him go at their own pace; for someone who used to work dealing with customers face to face on a regular basis, it wasn’t a skill he used a lot around other detectives, letting almost all emotion show clearly.

Perhaps it was a testament on how quickly they had gotten to feel comfortable with the Agency in general, and Yosano herself in particular. Perhaps it meant it wasn’t worthwhile, trying to keep up appearances when they were all pretty odd.

Perhaps it was a little bit of both.

“Can you tell me where you got it from?” Of course, and she could do more than that, even.

“Yeah! Plus, you can borrow this one too in the meantime.” When Sigma opened their mouth and closed it after mumbling a little, she giggled, but not with malice. “It’s fine, besides…” Yes, the only reason Yosano made a pause right there was to create an effect. “We can go shopping together if you want, and I’ll show you the place where I got that and more.”

Saying Sigma straight up beamed wouldn’t be an understatement in the slightest.

“Really? Thanks!” And then, after just a brief moment of hesitation, he went on with a suggestion of their own. “Also… can you give me some tips too? All my knowledge about make-up so far is limited to hide sleepless nights.”

“Ah, gladly.”

(Also on ao3.)

#chuuran #sigsano #bsd chuuya #bsd ranpo #bsd yosano #bsd #bungou stray dogs #my stuff #clau stuff #ficlet #lena <3 #i've had a blast with both fr #also i have a thing for sigma who goes from only knowing about make-up in a “practical” need-it-to-keep-appearances-up way #to actually getting to have fun with it bcs they want to

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iffeelscouldkill · 4 months

Text

Fic: the old stars are of no importance

Summary: In which RJ McCabe has more emotions about listening to a drunken group singalong than they'd expected. Set during season 1 episodes 9 & 10 and the aftermath of episode 10.

Also posted to Dreamwidth & AO3, or just keep reading for the fic!

---

Junior Agent RJ McCabe is having a terrible day.

A terrible week, actually. Or make that a terrible career.

RJ is no stranger to hard work – no-one can power through the Academy and get a Junior Agent role at twenty-three without working incredibly hard. But since Park was tak- since Park was rightfully apprehended, it’s not felt like hard work so much as desperately paddling to keep their head above water. All the weird stares, the muttering, the pointed questions from their superiors that RJ answers as honestly as possible while frantically analysing the words for anything that could reflect negatively on them.

They go from urgent briefing to the office to one-on-one report with the Major General to another briefing to the office to home, finally, though they’re barely sleeping. RJ is pretty sure their blood volume is 95% caffeine, lately – thankfully the IGR doesn’t test for that.

In recognition of the awfulness of break room coffee, they brew it at home and bring a big flask with them. Or they would, except that this morning they tiredly fumbled the pot while pouring and scalded their hand, causing them to flinch and drop it, splattering half of the coffee across their tiny kitchen floor. They lost ten minutes to the clean-up and they have half as much coffee as they need, damn it.

All of which is to say that they’re not in the mood for Junior Agent Goodman’s attitude.

“Twelve hours of nothing?” RJ repeats as they stare down at Goodman, whose normal mask of impassiveness has given way to annoyance. He looks tired, but RJ is no stranger to all-nighters, and Goodman shouldn’t be either if he wants to get anywhere in the Republic.

“The crew was mostly asleep for part of it,” Goodman responds. “Is there coffee?”

“It’s dreck,” RJ says. They’re wondering if padding out their stock of coffee with the break room sludge will result in halfway drinkable coffee. It will probably just taint the decent stuff.

“Yes, because I drink break room coffee for the delicate aroma,” Goodman says, his sarcasm acidic, and RJ’s patience snaps.

“I don’t want to write you up for insubordination—”

They listen to Goodman’s rationale for throwing away a full twelve hours of audio, interjecting with pointed questions. When Goodman says, “Trust me,” they almost snort. Trust Goodman. Trust Goodman after his leading questions about Park and his poorly-hidden recording device. After RJ had confronted him about the recording, he’d simply smiled and said, “You can’t be too careful.”

RJ is just taking his advice. They hold out their hand. “Hand me the headphones.”

The audio picks up mid-conversation, and at first it sounds like so much nonsensical rambling, until RJ is able to pick up the thread of what the insurgents are talking about. Edict 1837. Any confession by a known criminal needs to be transcribed, analysed, and examined for veracity – no matter what the contents.

RJ has to suppress a smirk when they realise what Goodman has been dealing with all night. For once, they’re glad they’re the ranking Agent.

They’re tempted to skip over it, but they can at least listen to the entirety of the group’s confessions. Patel and Tripathi’s knowledge of Republic laws and edicts gives them the advantage in creating, if not convincing confessions, certainly detailed ones. Jeeter’s is less elaborate, but would require a qualified Ancient Pre-Crisis Languages expert to verify. The Dwarnian Krejjh’s ‘confession’ is a pure flight of fantasy – no-one rational has believed Dwarnians can shapeshift since at least 2175.

As for Violet Liu – RJ would have expected her to choose a confession oriented towards her history as a Republic scientist. “The lead singer of Birdie and the Swansong” is just silly.

Their finger hovers over the fast forward button as Patel drunkenly challenges Liu to “prove it”.

And then –

Violet Liu starts to sing.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn, red light shines on and on and on and on and on...”

RJ has heard Violet sing before, during 'Report 1: Violet Liu', but there's something startling about hearing her suddenly strike out into song, a little unsteady but clear and melodious.

The note hangs there for an uncertain few seconds before Patel takes up the next line.

“But it’s not the sea that’s coming for me-”

And then Liu joins back in-

“-and it’s not the storm, no, it’s not the storm…”

Tripathi starts playing a guitar – they’ve heard her idly strumming it in her room during downtime – and suddenly they’re all singing.

“When I go to sea, don’t fear for me,

“Fear for the storm, fear for the storm!”

RJ squints in confusion, forehead creasing. What are they all doing? Is this a taunt? Because they know they’re being listened to? Why else would the whole crew be sitting around singing like they don’t have a care?

(Fleetingly, RJ wonders what it would be like to have that level of comfort with a group. An image of Nan and Ferdy flashes across their mind’s eye before they quickly squash it. They’re getting distracted).

“So gather your charts and your portents,

“Throw them aside,

“The old stars are of no importance,

“They’re not what I navigate by...”

In hours of monitoring, RJ has never heard the crew sing together, yet they harmonise seamlessly like they’ve done it a hundred times.

The words are – nonsensical, just old-world seafaring imagery of seas and charts and stars. But the way the group sings gives them an energy; makes them important. Like they might be the last thing you’ll ever hear.

“Though I may burn, the heavens may learn to fear for the storm...

“Fear for the storm.”

Liu sings the final lines, and then Krejjh exclaims, delighted,

“Oops – I guess we’re all Birdy and the Swansong. What a coincidence!”

The whole group bursts into laughter, and RJ’s finger stabs angrily down on the fast forward button.

“Don’t tell me it’s all like this.”

They pretend not to see Agent Goodman rolling his eyes.

---

The rest of the day blurs past, the usual chain of reports, audio, meetings, exchanging terse words with Goodman (who’s even more sarcastic thanks to his all-nighter), more reports, more audio.

They dismiss Goodman at the end of the workday, even though overtime is the norm in the Republic to the point where the ‘workday’ doesn’t really have a beginning and an end. (This was less depressing to RJ when they thought the agents were all getting overtime pay). He quickly goes, obviously not wanting to wait around for them to change their mind.

Silence descends.

RJ mechanically fills in a few more forms, initials some reports, getting caught up on the endless paperwork that’s generated by active cases. The Rumor audio isn’t being logged as it’s coming in; last night was an exceptional case in the aftermath of the insurgents making contact with the other Violet Liu, but based on the subsequent twelve hours of audio and today’s similar experience, they’ve determined it’s a more prudent use of resources to analyse it after the fact.

So, there’s no reason for RJ to be going over to the bank of audio desks and slipping on a pair of headphones. An audio file has just come in, but RJ pulls up an older file and scrubs through it, looking for the right timestamp.

They’re just double-checking Goodman’s work – making sure nothing was omitted when investigating the insurgents’ confessions under Edict 1837. A missed detail could give rise to a lot of additional paperwork, and their department can’t afford another blot on its track record. They pull an empty notepad towards them and poise a pen over it, ready to take notes.

But the notepad stays blank throughout the confessions, and then the singing begins.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn, red light shines on and on and on and on and on…”

Maybe the lyrics could be – could contain some kind of code? RJ scrawls, The old stars are of no importance, and then just as quickly scratches it out. Code for who? That wouldn’t make any sense. The words don’t mean anything.

“So gather your charts and your portents,

“Throw them aside...”

RJ has never been one for music or singing (especially in public); they always shrugged Nan off when she tried to cajole them into karaoke. At the Academy, they’d sat on the sidelines during that kind of drunken, raucous group bonding, nursing one drink and wishing they could be literally anywhere else. Eventually, they’d started making excuses about work to catch up on.

Listening to the Rumor crew sing should sound like that – the kind of alcohol-fuelled stupidity that RJ has never wanted to be a part of.

It shouldn’t sound like –

Like family.

“Though I may burn, the heavens may learn to fear for the storm…”

The song ends, and RJ quickly hits ‘stop’. Almost guiltily, they navigate back through the audio to where the beginning of the song would be.

Distant footsteps sound in the corridor, and RJ goes very still, listening. Clark went home hours ago, so it’s not her.

They refuse to look around furtively, because that would be childish and also, they’re not doing anything wrong. They’re just doing their job.

RJ hits ‘play’ again.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn…”

---

Chaos reigns as RJ, Park, Liu, Patel and Krejjh dash towards the window where Tripathi hovers with the heisted spaceship. The Vre Chel Noke nanoswarm, which had been a thick, shimmering mist around them seconds ago, hovers ominously like a warning.

It’s enough to keep Goodman and the other guards from trying to retaliate as Tripathi begins helping each of them into the open spaceship door. (RJ was tempted to take a potshot at Goodman in the chaos, but they told themself they’re better than that. Also, they didn’t want to waste any time). RJ is keeping their eyes fixed on Park, deliberately not thinking about what they’re doing, just thinking about the next moment. Stay alive. Get out of here. And then – we’ll see.

As Tripathi holds out her hand to RJ, though, they can’t resist a last glance behind them at everything they’re leaving behind. They thought this building would be the site of a long and (hopefully) distinguished career; it was practically their home, their life – until recently.

A line bubbles up in their mind, and RJ stifles the absurd urge to laugh. The old stars are of no importance – They’re not what I navigate by…

RJ turns away and accepts Tripathi’s hand up into the ship.

---

All things considered, it’s not surprising that only a few hours after joining the crew, RJ finds themself in the middle of a group singalong.

The mood is a mixture of tense and exhilarated in the immediate aftermath of their getaway. Everyone is visibly exhausted, Park possibly most of all, but it’s clear they’re all too wired to sleep or rest. They wander around the new ship, acquainting themselves with the layout and the rooms. The Rumor crew all exclaim over the size of the mess hall, which is pretty small to RJ’s eyes, but they guess anything would seem impressive compared to the homemade junk bucket the crew were flying in before.

The crew have a couple of bags stowed away, stuffed with supplies – all that’s left of the old ship. RJ thinks fleetingly of their small, bare apartment. There’s nothing they’ll miss.

Jeeter – Brian – makes some food and crucially, coffee, which is as bad as the break room dreck, but RJ will inhale anything at this point. The group chatters, their voices still surreal for RJ to hear in person and not through headphones.

They glance at Park, who looks more relaxed than they’ve ever seen him. The Rumor crew are sharing details about what happened to each of them during ‘The Plan’; Park volunteers a little about his own part, though there’s a conspicuous lack of detail about anything related to Zone Z. Sometimes the conversation falls awkwardly silent when the subject comes up. RJ isn’t about to push, and can tell the others don’t want to, either.

Trip- Sana and Krejjh determine it’s safe to set the new ship to autopilot, and Krejjh comes into the mess, intensifying the noise and cheerfulness. RJ tries not to stare; they’ve never been in close quarters with a Dwarnian (well, before shooting Krejjh earlier) and have only ever seen them in Republic training footage and, uh, Sh’th Hremreh. But Krejjh seems to find them fascinating, too, gamely questioning them about their ‘sharpshooting’ skills. Apparently sparing their life carries more weight than shooting them in the leg.

Eventually, Krejjh’s attention turns to their fiancé and the wider group, and RJ, no longer observed, lets their shoulders slump. They’ve drained the last of their coffee and want to ask for more, even though they’re practically vibrating. Adrenaline has carried them this far, and they don’t want to find out what happens when they crash and the reality of what they’ve done hits them. Part of RJ feels like they left their body back at Headquarters; or like they’re about to blink and wake up in their office chair with Goodman glaring at them.

“You okay?” Park asks in an undertone, and RJ jolts, upsetting their thankfully empty cup. They open their mouth to reply, but then Sana calls, “Okay, everyone!”

She’s holding a guitar, and RJ stares, wondering how much space that must have taken up in the supply bags. Arkady groans, but she doesn’t look angry. Violet covers her mouth in amusement, and Krejjh cheers.

“I thought we could christen our new ship with a bit of a song,” Sana says earnestly (RJ is learning that ‘earnest’ is Sana’s default mode). Park’s eyes widen, which makes RJ glad that they’re not the only one experiencing slight panic. Is it too late to sneak out? Sana plucks at the guitar strings, twiddling the pegs to tune them. She strums a chord and nods, satisfied.

“What shall we start with? Any suggestions?” Her gaze alights on Park and RJ, and she smiles encouragingly. “McCabe – do you want to suggest a song? You don’t have to sing if you’re not comfortable.”

“Uh…” RJ would like to suggest something less – incriminating, but unfortunately, there’s only one song currently on their mind. “What about... ‘Fear for the Storm’?”

To their relief, Sana doesn’t ask questions. “Good choice!” she says, and RJ feels, ridiculously, pleased. Park quirks an eyebrow at them after Sana looks away, but RJ just shrugs, not wanting to explain.

Sana strums a few opening chords, and Violet and Arkady begin, singing the first line together.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn, red light shines on and on and on and on and on...”

RJ sits back in their chair and fractionally, begins to relax, letting the singing wash over and around them.

Quietly, too quietly, to be heard beneath the singing, they hum along.

---

A/N: So the idea conception for this fic went something like this:

Me: Okay, I've got this fun idea I want to write about the real lead singer of Birdie and the Swansong listening to the Iris casefiles and reacting to the group singalong-

My brain: I have an even better version of that idea!

Me: Yes?

My brain: What if McCabe-

Me: OH MY GOD

...Go on...

I have one (1) character whose perspective I'm consistently inspired to write from and can do so at the drop of a hat xD (I was trying to write this in a few days for the Small Fandoms Surprise Scramble on Dreamwidth. I succeeded!

The idea that became this idea was sparked off by listening to the full cast version of Fear for the Storm and having some Emotions about it again :D I remember how captivated I was by this song when listening to Episode 9 for the very first time, and so the idea of giving McCabe some of those Emotions was a very appealing one. Poor thing is going through it.

This also gave me a chance to write about the immediate aftermath of Episode 10, which I had not done before!

#TSCOSI #The Strange Case of Starship Iris #my fic #RJ McCabe #Agent Goodman #Jin Seon Park #Starship Iris episode 9 #Starship Iris episode 10 #Starship Iris season 1

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spooky-all-year-round · 1 year

Text

Confession (Hips part 2)

Reading the first part is recommended. Garreth has realized other people are eyeing you and now has to get the courage to ask you out! I took a bit of liberty with the floo network since as far as I remember we never see/hear a fully qualified wizard/witch use it I'm going to assume it can become non-verbal just like spells. Also I borrowed the Diggory name because it's a pure blood family that I don't see used often. Thank you too @fandomnerdworld for the ask! All characters are 18+!!!

TW: fluff, spicy thoughts, mentioned of past masturbation, people talk about the reader (in a good way), mention of future children together (brief), mutual pining, jealous Garreth protective Garreth, insecure Garreth/Reader, dramatic Garreth/reader, anxiety attack, fainting, angst? But not really. So self made angst

It had been weeks since Garreth's interesting night, where he eventually locked himself in a bathroom and masturbated until he was overstimulated and exhausted. THe still didn't know what to do about it all. He knew he had a crush on you long before this. But this sudden and overwhelming hold you had on him was something else. Before he noticed your intoxicating changes, he was able to put his thoughts of you to the side at least long enough to brew his experiments, and normally he could finish most of his homework without thinking of you several times.

But now you were all he could think about. Not just your body in a sexual sense. Things linke when you smiled at him, he imagined what it would be like to see you walking down the aisle with that smile. Listening to you speak made him wonder what it would sound like to hear you say "I do". Hearing your laugh made him think of you, him and a mini version of one of you playing games. How something in your eyes made him want to never stop looking into yours. Or of how funny you were, how you lend your friends a helping hand without a thought, that cute look you got when you were focused. His thoughts of you even floated into his dreams. If you were anywhere near him all he could think of was how to impress you, how to keep your attention, how to make you laugh. It did not help that others were noticing how much you filled out as well.

He had heard several other boys talking about how talented you were, how beautiful, how great of a wife you would be. He also heard not so innocent whispers about you. How you might feel, how you might sound, how your body was the perfect shape for having kids. He would never admit that the last one was his fault for bringing it up without thinking. But others were very quickly coming to the same conclusion he was. That you would be a wonderful girlfriend/eventual wife, and he was terrified. What if you didn't like him back? You always seemed so friendly with him he never really thought about you not returning his feelings. What if you did like him but he took to long so you said yes to someone else?! He couldn't let that happen, but he couldn't ever seem to catch up to you these days.

NEWTS were coming up fast so he was having a hard time keeping up with his work as it was, trying to find you on top of that was impossible. He tried calling out for you to wait up but you either didn't hear him or told him you would see him later. Which unfortunately for him you were always in a group when he saw you later. He tried following you hoping to catch you alone, but you were so good with non-verbal magic at this point you didn't need to announce to the floo powder where you wanted to go. You were also able to apparate freely when you left the school grounds.

It didn't help how jealous he was becoming hearing guys talk about how they planned to ask you out. Or how they knew you were going to say yes to them because you were obviously interested in them. Look how you were always so nice to them. How you helped them out with this and that. The ones he hated the most were the ones that boosted about how they were going to woo you with gifts. This was because they barely knew anything about you and they thought you were easily won over by a few simple gifts, like flowers or chocolates. They didn't know how wonderful you are and how you deserve the world, and because of that they would never make you truely happy and it irked him that they would even try.

But the ones that frightened him were the ones that talked about how they could make you smile and laugh. Which (in their words) meant they were a shoe in. He feared them because that's what he prided himself in, sure you two were close in many ways, but what if he was just the same as them? What if he was delusional about even having a chance with you? What if you just found him funny but thought nothing more? Maybe you didn't currently like anyone. Maybe you hadn't thought about him like that, but his confession would open up the idea and he could win your heart!

One dat he overheard you talking to Natty as everyone left charms. He kept a few feet behind you both hoping to not draw attention and maybe get some helpful information. What he heard made his heart soar and his stomach drop simultaneously. She was trying to convince you that if you asked "him" out that all these other guys would back off. "Him"? So you did like someone! Oh Merlin, you did like someone, that someone couldn't be him right? What if it was him you two were talking about? Maybe you were madly in love with him too! But it could very well be someone else. His face turned into a pout as he continued listening, praying one of you would say a name.

"I know Natty, but what am I supposed to say? 'Hey cutie, nice day right? Just so you know, I've had a huge crush on you since we met! All I can think about is playing with your hair that looks too soft, looking into your gorgeous eyes, and holding your hand while we stroll down the street! Your laugh makes me physically weak, and everytime you touch me I feel like I'm going to actually melt into a puddle. Please marry me!' Like that won't make him run for the hills and never speak to me again!" Your rant went by like a bludger, he almost thought your mouth might fly off with how quick you said it.

Natty did her best to give you an unimpressed look while trying to hide her smile at your dramatic imaginary confession. "I am sure he likes you. I have seen the way he looks at you and I have an outside perspective on how he treats you compared to others. I know he has fallen just as hard if not more so. I just don't think he knows how to outright say it. So he acts out to keep your attention, probably hoping that you'll confess to him first." She rested her hand on your shoulder with a comforting look before it turned into a grin. "Now! Go tell him before he thinks you're not interested. You're a Gryffindor, you have bravery in your blood! You'll both feel so much better once one of you admits to the other about your shared feelings." She gave your shoulder a gentle shake in encouragement.

Acting out? Who did he know that acted out for attention? Sallow for sure. Diggory was another one to make an ass out of himself before winking at you. Larson acted all self important but would that be considered the same? Gaunt certainly acted differently towards you compared to how he did most, but that wasn't the same as acting "out". Right?

Natty and you both stopped to turn towards each other fully. Garreth quickly hid behind the corner, terrified at almost getting caught. His hands were sweating, his chest hurt, the corridor felt like it was spinning. You had to like one of them. Not him. He lost you without even having you. Maybe telling you would help. Maybe it would change your mind and you would choose him! No, then he would just lose you as a friend. What could he do? Yours and Natty's voices sounded like he was hearing them underwater. Merlin, there was no fixing this was there?

He started stepping out from around the corner, hoping to pass by without notice. But you and Natty immediately noticed, in fact you nearly leaped out of your skin in fear that he had heard everything. It was obvious to both of you that something was wrong, he was paler than normal causing his adorable freckles to stand out even more. He was sweating profusely and his eyes were unfocused as he took uneven steps. You reached out to touch his shoulder asking him if he was feeling alright when he suddenly collapsed.

"GARRETH!" Your shout echoed around you as you did your best to catch him, leading both of you to being on the ground. You were kneeling while doing your best to prop him up and keep his head from hitting the floor. Natty used her wonderfully quick wit to come up with an idea. In an impressive bit of magic she conjured a stretcher out of nothing. Carefully you both lifted him onto it, making sure we wasn't going to somehow fall off. With her levitating the stretcher and you guiding it you both rushed him to the hospital wing. You could feel tears prick in your eyes. You could only hope it was just him being sick and nothing serious.

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You were sitting by his bedside gently running your fingers through his hair when you heard him mutter your name. You brushed it off as you hearing things. But a few moments later you heard it again, instinctively his face turned so it rested in your palm. Your heart was fluttering so fast you thought it might fly away. His hand slowly reached up and brushed against your wrist.

Natty had left about half an hour ago, swearing she "had so much homework" she needed to do. You were well aware she was one of the few students that could keep up with her homework, but it was so sweet that she wanted to give you alone time with Garreth that you didn't argue. You simply wished her luck with a knowing smile and a squeeze of her hand. She had squeezed back affectionately before taking her leave.

Not long later Garreth's eyes fluttered open, first he was looking at the wall in your direction. His hand ran absent mindedly up and down your wrist before his face scrunched up in confusion. He pulled his head away from your hand to look at it before his eyes glided up your arm, shoulder, and neck before landing on your face. A blush sprung up to his face as he pulled away sitting up as if your hand was made of open flames. He mentally slapped himself at the look of shock and hurt that crossed your face at his actions.

His sudden movements shocked you and you pulled your hand back just as fast. It hurt seeing him pull away so quickly. You had ran your fingers through his hair a few times before. Maybe he didn't actually enjoy it and was just being nice all those times. As you went to place your hand in your lap he grabbed it.

"I'm sorry I was just shocked. Please keep playing with my hair." He looked at you hopefully and he payed back down. He placed your hand back in his hair to show you it was really okay. Timidly you started playing with his hair, but you quickly fell back into the motions you had before he woke up. He sighed happily closing his eyes. For a few moments he completely forgot about what lead him here. He was just content with this quiet moment between the two of you. But once the question peeked it's head into his thoughts he couldn't help but ask. "How did I end up in the hospital wing?" His strikingly green eyes curiosity met your own.

"You fainted." He gave himself another mental slap turning his gaze away from you. Fainted? And in front of you? He wanted to disappear into the black lake. Maybe he could befriend the giant squid who could protect him from everything else in there. "You were all pale and you looked lost. I was so worried." The sadness and concern in your voice both cut him and warmed him. On one hand he accidentally upset you, on the other you cared about him so much that you not only worried but you stayed by his bedside. "Natty and I brought you up, you've been out for around an hour."

Natty. Natty and you. Natty and you talking about your crush who wasn't him. He felt sick again the clammy feeling returning to his hands. You must have noticed something because your wrist went to his forehead. "I was worried you caught a fever, but Madam Blainey said it was probably just stress from NEWTS." Stress. He could work with that.

You slowly pulled your hand away from his head. He looked back over to you only to find how sheepish you looked. "I actually have been meaning to tell you something. I know right now might not be the best time given you just fainted, but I don't know the next time we will both have a moment to spare." You sounded so nervous and you weren't looking at him. Did you somehow know he likes you and didn't know how to tell him you didn't like him back? Were you about to tell him about your crush on this other guy? Oh Merlin, that was it, and now he was going to have to sit here and reassure you that this guy liked you and that you should go for it.

You shifted before continuing, "I don't know how to say this. All the ways I've thought of have now just disappeared from my thoughts. I...I like you Garreth." Time froze for both of you. He was trying to process that he was the one you liked. All feelings of anxiety and being sick left his body. Unfortunately it seemed to only transfer to you as the silence went on. "I'm so sorry Garreth. We can forget I said anything. Honestly, I don't want to ruin our friendship over this." You stood to leave but he caught your hand again, this time pulling you to meet him on the bed.

You were now sitting next to him, enveloped in his warm embrace. You could not only feel your own heart racing, but his as well. You stuttered not sure what you wanted to say but trying to get some form of answer. He pulled away and grabbed both of your hands kissing them both over and over again. "I like you too, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you. You practically live in my thoughts. I am wholely dedicated to making you happy. Anything to make you smile, to laugh, to even just look at me." He was now understanding what Natty meant by your crush acting out for your attention. "I would find anything if it meant you would give me even a moment of your attention, I would do anything if it meant you would give me even a pinch of your affection. I heard what you were telling Natty before I came around that corner and I am the happiest man alive knowing you feel all of that towards me." Your face went from confused, to relieved, before becoming shocked and embarrassed, untill finally it landed on a huge smile.

He grinned back bringing one of your hands to his face. "May I kiss you?" With your nod he leaned in quickly. He was eager to get to the kiss but was soft and slow when he got there. It was almost like he was scared you would disappear or change your mind if he seemed too excited. But both of your hearts were acting the same, soaring and free knowing that not only did you both have feelings for each other, but they seemed to be on the same level of infatuation. You both pulled away small smiles full of affection as you stared at each other's eyes. "Please be mine?" You answered with another kiss that he returned in full.

#garreth x reader #garreth weasley x reader #garreth x you #Garreth weasley fluff #i hope this is good

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