#nick wasicsko x reader

[god-complex-12]

Súton

— Paring; Nick Wasicsko x male reader. Fandom; Show Me a Hero

Súton: (n.) twilight; the approach of death or the end of something.

Quote; “Can I hold you?”

Description; Nick being oddly affections definitely set off signals. Disclaimer; SPOILERS TO SHOW ME A HERO!! Angst, grief, major character death, sad, implication of suicide, touchiness, bittersweet, crying, affection.

Word Count: 0.6k

Masterlist, Oscar Isaac masterlist

A/N: Y’all asked for it. I’m doing Nick first. I’ll do Jonathan next.

“You look pretty tonight.” Nick whispered as he watched Y/N slip under the covers. He did look pretty. Despite his masculine stature, he was so damn pretty.

Y/N chuckled. “Pretty?” He questioned. His eyes met Nick’s and he realized he was being serious. Not just teasing him, trying to make him feel girly. His amused expression turned to one of softness. “Thank you.”

“I feel like I still have a crush on you,” Nick said. It was true. Nick felt like a schoolboy who would stumble over his words when he was around Y/N.

“Yeah?” Y/N asked, turning off the bedside lamp.

“Can I hold you?” The question was random and it brought a silence. Y/N hadn’t expected it. Usually he was the one holding Nick, especially recently considering everything that had happened recently. Y/N’s never really been held. He looked at Nick through the darkness, his eyes adjusting and the moonlight just barely illuminating the man’s features.

At the silence, Nick begins to feel as though he screwed up asking that. He never took Y/N for having a fragile masculinity, but maybe he was pushing it. All thoughts left when he heard the quiet “yes” leave Y/N’s lips.

Nick smiles and he wraps his arms around the man, bringing him as close as possible. Y/N accepted it and laid on top of Nick, putting his face in the crook of Nick’s neck. A comfortable silence engulfs them as Nick’s cold hand slips under Y/N’s shirt.

The coldness on Y/N’s back made him shiver. However, Nick’s hand quickly warmed up as he continued to touch Y/N. His touch is gentle, his fingers barely grazing over the warm skin. It’s such a soothing touch. A touch that Nick often used to get the man asleep. It’s one that’s been absent in the past couple of months. Y/N was happy it was back. Moments like these were Y/N’s favorite. He loved the touch, the feel. It tickled, but that was part of the fun.

Y/N was completely focused on Nick’s hand, feeling his fingers spread out across the small of his back. He began thinking of Nick himself and his happiness was quickly replaced with realization. Everything was coming together. Nick’s been acting off. He started drinking more for one. He’s also been more loving. Hugging more, kissing more, complementing more. Sex has been on hold for the past couple of weeks. He’s been giving Y/N a bunch of gifts.

Y/N looked over at the face of flowers on the nightstand and suddenly, tears welled up in his eyes as he realized what Nick was planning to do. He put his face back in Nick’s shoulder and took a deep breath.

Nick failed to notice the revelation. He continued to rub Y/N’s back, thinking Y/N was drifting to sleep. He kissed Y/N on the head.

Y/N shifted a little, trying to get closer. He silently cried into Nick’s shoulder, dampening his shirt. He was scared this would be the last time he would get touched like this. His mind raced as he kissed Nick’s shoulder.

After a while, it became too much. Y/N got off of Nick and rolled over. The sniffle from the man was what gave it away.

“Are you crying?” Nick wondered with concern. Had he done something wrong.

“No.” Y/N responded, but Nick knew better.

His hand gently touched Y/N’s bare back again. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

[orestesimp]

I’m slowly going through Oscar’s movies without any hurry, consuming his characters as sweet delicacies… hmm anyway. Speaking of underrated characters. I have an idea that fits for Bud Cooper and for Nick Wasicsko too but I can’t choose one, please help me 🤕 reader is his new secretary, and his favorite way to spend a dinner break is eating reader out at his desk 😎 it would be nice to read something about it ♥️ please skip it if this is not for you! I’ve already over-abused your ask lmao. Love you

Friday Afternoon

Nick Wasicsko x f!Reader

Warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, + spelling? 18+

around 2.4k words

i’m so sorry, this is literally five months later but i hope you’re still around and enjoy this. also i forgot this was supposed to be a dinner break so instead it’s an afternoon snack

Nick exhales a slow breath as he looks around his office to check on things. It’s a Friday afternoon and he is bored out of his mind. It turns out that being the mayor of Yonkers is not always exciting. Some days are hectic and stressful, others are slow and monotonous.

Friday afternoons are particularly tedious.

Through the glass partition he can see you hunched over your desk doing paperwork. You straighten up a little, roll your neck in an attempt to work out the kinks, then return to your paperwork. Nick reclines in his leather chair, feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the desk.

Now he remembers why he actually likes Friday afternoons; he gets to watch you work.

If the constituents knew that their mayor spends most of his Fridays sitting at his desk staring at his girlfriend, they would be picketing in front of the building with signs. But then he’s done worse things during working hours.

The clacking of the typewriter keys fills the otherwise silent office. You are not paying attention to Nick but he still hides his smile behind his hand when you discreetly stare daggers to your left at the other secretary. In your defense, Nick thinks, the sound is extremely irritating.

It sounds like a machine gun, constantly firing. You press your lips into a thin line and look away, fighting the urge to bash your own head against the desk. Your anger seems so disproportionate, so unreasonable, that a laugh bubbles up in Nick’s throat.

He observes you a little longer, an amused smile on his lips. He isn’t proud of it but he loves riling you up, annoying you until he has to apologize with his mouth in more ways than one.

*

You are on the phone with councilman Longo’s secretary when Nick enters your side of the office. He looks bored, aimless. You envy him. You have been swamped with work all week, you’re exhausted and everything seems to set you off.

The phone keeps ringing, Cheryl is literally punching the keys of the typewriter with her fingers, and Nick is… well he’s definitely looking for trouble. Despite being an ex-police officer, he’s not very subtle. He paces in front of you, hands in his pockets. It tightens the fabric around his backside and it is usually a very welcoming distraction, but not today.

Today you are just too worked up to take the bait.

Nick looks over his shoulder at you, sees that you are not paying attention to him, and gives a little nod to himself. He tries one more time because Nick Wasicsko is nothing if not persistent.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him walk over to your co-worker. He perches his butt on the corner of her desk and she smiles up at him, her fingers still moving furiously over the keys. He makes pleasant conversation with her while you try to block out their voices.

You are surprised that she is still at her desk, Cheryl isn’t known for her professionalism. She’s always ambling in the hallways or gossiping by the copy machine. The only reason you are working for Nick right now is because she is behind in her work. You could be on your porch repotting your azaleas right now.

You reach up to rub your temples in soothing circles. You’re not sure it’s working but it feels kind of nice.

And then, silence.

You open your eyes and look around the room to find Cheryl putting on her coat. Confused, you glance at the clock. You still have over an hour of work until you can clock out. She thanks him, powerwalking to the door before he can change his mind.

Once the door closes behind her, Nick turns to you with a satisfied grin. He opens his arms and gives a little bow, “et voilà.”

“You let her leave early?”

“I’m letting all of us leave early,” he counters, still perched on her desk.

You appreciate the gesture but you have too much work to do. You need to make sure everything is ready for the event next week, you have to update the calendar, and there’s a pile of unopened mail on your desk from three weeks ago.

Your lack of enthusiasm makes Nick frown. He stands behind you, hands on your shoulders.

“I thought you’d be more excited,” he says, massaging your shoulders.

You can’t see him but you’re almost certain that he is pouting. He is going to overthink this. You’re just tired and grumpy, but he’s going to dissect this until he comes to the conclusion that you don’t love him anymore.

And that’s the last thing you want. You take one of his hands and bring it to your lips. “I am,” you reassure him, kissing away his doubt. “Let’s just finish this and then we can go home.”

He makes a sound, half whimper, half whine. “Can’t it wait until Monday?” He digs his fingertips into your arms and tries to pull you closer. “C’mon,” he coos, “please.”

“Okay, okay. Just do this one thing for me.” You straighten up in your chair. “Sign these documents so I can send them before the end of the day.”

He makes a face at the thought of having to work, even if it’s just to write his name on a few sheets of paper. Once Nick has made his mind up about something, no one can stop him.

“It’s past four, these won’t be send until Monday anyway.”

“Nick, please.”

He picks up the handset and leaves it on your desk, the high-pitched buzzing of the dial tone humming faintly from the receiver. You bat his hand away and press the button that will automatically transfer callers to voicemail.

“All right,” he relents, walking into his office. “Come here.”

You gather your papers into a neat stack and bring it into Nick’s office. He looks like a petulant child behind his desk and you can’t help but smile as you set the pile of documents down in front of him.

He looks up at you with his big, brown eyes. I want to go home. You cup the side of his face and stroke his cheekbone with your thumb. It won’t be long, promise.

Nick quickly skims through the stack of legal documents, scribbling his signature at the bottom of each page. You stand next to him, watching silently. After a moment, you stop paying attention and let your eyes travel around the office.

A startled gasp slips past your lips when you feel a pair of hands settle at your hips. Nick whirls you about, a shit eating grin on his face. You stumble over your own feet but steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders.

Once the room stops spinning, you see that Nick is still sitting in his desk chair but you are now trapped between him and the desk. He looks up at you with a satisfied grin, almost predatory, and you find yourself clenching your thighs together. His hands are still on your hips, and his quiet groan tells you that he definitely felt that.

The skirt you are wearing today is long, it reaches almost to your ankles, but it doesn’t deter Nick whose hands are slowly travelling down your legs. He gathers two handfuls of your skirt and slowly exposes your underwear.

“W-What are you doing,” you ask with a breathless laugh.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he replies, feigning exasperation. “I’m working.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to your navel.

You stop him.

“Nick, the door.”

“What about it?”

“It’s unlocked.”

He has to strain his neck to look at the door. It’s on the other side of the room, behind his own door and your desk. He purses his lips into a mock thinking pout before he turns to you. “I don’t care.”

You consider it too. God, you don’t want him to move but what if someone walks into the room and finds the mayor with his face buried between his secretary’s legs. Now come to think of it, that’s an exciting thought.

“Yeah,” you agree.

You don’t have to tell him twice. He’s all smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and your body begins to relax. When he yanks your underwear down your legs, you yelp in surprise and start chuckling. Nick shushes you, trying to contain his own laughter.

You lean back and support your weight on your forearms, trying to make yourself comfortable on the hard surface of the desk.

A beam of sunlight shines through the window onto Nick’s face, his lovely dark eyes light up, revealing flecks of amber and gold. The dial of his watch catches the sunlight, momentarily blinding you, though the movement makes you realize that he is rolling up his sleeves.

You are giddy with excitement, nudging him with the toe of your shoe. He slides off his chair to kneel in front of you and spreads your legs wide. He looks up at you, adoration shining in his eyes though there is something in his smile that makes a chill run up your spine.

You decide to focus on the sight of him on his knees. It always makes you feel so powerful to have the Mayor of Yonkers on his knees ready to please you with his talented mouth. And like the good politician he is, he’s always eager to please.

Putting all your weight on your forearm, you reach out to touch his face. He has one of your legs draped over his shoulder, his lips slowly tracing a path from your knee to your thigh, his teeth lightly playing with the sensitive skin of your thigh.

He does his best to keep your skirt above his head so he can look at you. You comb your fingers through his hair, biting your bottom lip in anticipation as he inches closer to your pussy. Your lips are parted, little whimpers and moans echoing around you.

His thumb drags through the folds of your pussy, wet with desire and ready to suck him in. Your fingers tighten in his silky hair, urging him closer. You can feel his smile against your skin, the hair above his lip so familiar.

Your moans are high-pitched little sighs, breathless and needy, as he finally lowers his mouth to your folds. He licks from your entrance to your clit, his free hand holding you firmly against him.

You are disoriented, your moans get louder and louder and you simply don’t give a flying fuck. He pushes your skirt up, freeing his hand so he can spread your thighs wider. You are slouched on the desk, gasping and panting, one hand half-heartedly holding your skirt above Nick’s head, the other still in his hair.

He presses his tongue flat against your pussy, moaning into you, his half-lidded gaze meeting yours. You are completely shattered, crying out his name, rocking against him, pulling his hair. He can feel the way your pussy clenches, desperately needing something to grip onto but achingly empty.

He slides two thick fingers inside your slick hole and starts sucking your clit. Your climax soars through you, fists clenched, body convulsing, back arching off the desk. He helps you ride out your orgasm, filthy words of encouragement whispered against your skin.

Your soul is slowly returning to your body and you are keenly aware that his tongue is still lapping gently at your centre, gathering the evidence of your orgasm on his tongue.

You hum tiredly, running your fingers through his hair, when you feel the tip of his tongue trace a pattern; a line slanted downward, another upward. He repeats the motion again. It feels good, unusual but good.

Then you feel it again; a line slanted upward, a line slanted downward, and one across. Behind your closed eyes, you frown. The pattern is too complex, it has to be deliberate. You trace it in your mind.

“What are you-” the end of your sentence is cut off with a moan as his tongue traces a ‘S’ shape from your clit to your hole. And despite the post-orgasm fog, it hits you. He’s been writing letters, a ‘W’, an ‘A’, and an ‘S’. He is writing his fucking name. “You have got to be joki- oh, Jesus Christ!”

He ends his ‘I’ by sucking on your clit and you’re a moaning mess again. It takes you another second to remember what you were about to say. The ‘C’ makes you buck against his mouth and by the time he hits you with the ‘S’ you are completely ruined.

You try to sit up, marvelling at the look on his face. He looks so proud of himself. This idiot. Your idiot. He finishes with a ‘K’ and a ‘O’, and that’s pretty much how you feel.

“You’re impossible, Wasicsko.”

“Hey, you’re the one who kept bugging me for my signature.”

“I wanted you to sign paperwork.” You slide limply to your knees, Nick laughing softly as he catches you in his arms. “God, Nick, we have to stop doing this in your office.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Did you like it?”

You rest your forehead on his shoulder and try not to scream. Your legs are still shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm and he damn well knows that. God, he’s such a sucker for praise. He definitely earned it though.

“Yes, I loved it.”

You kiss him hard, tasting yourself on his lips, swallowing his little gasp. He cups the back of your head and slips his tongue into your mouth. His moustache tickles your upper lip, scratches your skin as he gets lost in the kiss. He squeezes his eyes shut, causing the space between his eyebrows to furrow.

He’s holding on to you for dear life when you both come back for air.

“I love you,” he breathes out, gazing lovingly into your eyes. “You know that, right?”

“I love you, too.”

Nick smiles, relieved, happy. Your heart soars for this man. He helps you to your feet, his erection obvious now that he is standing. “Now, c’mon, you slacker,” he says, taking your hand and dragging you to the large conference table behind his desk. “We haven’t desecrated this part of the office yet.”

[freelancearsonist]

hi there do you still write for nick w? i wish the good mayor got more love :c

yes i do!! he deserves all the love 🥰

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

(not necessarily written in September, but that’s when I read ‘em! - Sorry I'm a little late posting this one, I'm a bit unwell.)

🎀 - fluff ☔ - angst 🍑 - smut

These fics, they have got me through this month I can tell ya.

🎀A date without a wallet. (Bud Cooper x f!reader) - @anetteaneta

☔remorse (Llewyn Davis x GN!reader) - @eyelessfaces

☔sin descanso - @marcspectrr

🍑 I Can’t Help Myself Part 1 (Jake Lockley x F!Reader) - @howaboutcastiel

🍑 I Can’t Help Myself Part 2 (Marc Spector x F!Reader & Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @howaboutcastiel

🎀 You'd be a great dad (Marc Spector x Reader) - @softlybarnes

🎀 For Better or For Worse (Marc Spector x Reader) -@luke-o-lophus

🎀 A Day in the Life (Moon Knight x F!Reader) - @dashesofink

🎀****Cough Syrup*** (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @romanarose

🎀 But Tonight Is Just Like Any Other Night (Jake Lockley x F!Reader) - @graveyardnails

🎀  sky and stars (Marc Spector x Reader) - @softlybarnes

🍑sink (Steven Grant x GN!Reader) - @luvpedropascal

Some Nights (Steven Grant) - @romanarose

🍑 Phases smut (Marc spector x F!Reader) - @stormkobra

🎀Warm (Steven Grant x GN!Reader) - @dailyreverie

🍑Rubber Ducky, You're the One (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - youvebeenlivingfictional

🍑 Long Night (Nick Wasicsko x F!Reader) - @budcooper

🍑IT'S ALWAYS BELONGED TO YOU (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @im-poe-dameron

🍑 Love, The Hardest Way (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @theshireisburning-so-mordoritis

☔ Something Forgotten (Poe Dameron x GN!Reader) - @bensolosbluesaber

🎀Black Leader, Shutting Up Pairing (Poe Dameron x Wife!Reader) - @starryeyedstories

🎀Untitled (Santiago Pope Garcia × F!Reader) - @youvebeenlivingfictional

They are all SO GOOD!

Previous FanFic Rec Lists

[myfandomlikesandstories]

Tagged by @eyelessfaces, thank you!!!

rules: make a 24-hour poll with the names of your wips, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote the winner got.

What should I be working on?

No pressure tags: @ivystoryweaver @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @romanarose @luke-o-lophus @spider-starry @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[waatermelon-sugaar]

Half-Priced Chocolate

Words = 2.8k

Summary = You hate Valentine’s Day. Nick tries to change your mind. 

Warnings = One swear word

A/N = Reader is described as a similar height to Nick, and taller when she wears heels. Also I didn’t mean to write this, it just sort of happened so sorry if it’s not very well thought out ahaha

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“You know, I’d pegged you as the type of girl who would do anything to ensure she had a Valentine’s date.” This observation comes casual as anything from your boss, Mayor Wasicsko, as the two of you work together to build beds in the town hall. 

A combination of a lot of snow, an early thaw, and then rain, had resulted in flooding all around the city, many having to be relocated. And so here you were, on a night that most were celebrating with their loved one across an over-priced bottle of champagne, some heart-shaped chocolate and probably something red themed, in the town hall, setting up extra accommodation with Nick. 

Who you should probably call Mayor Wasicsko in your head. 

You’d been here for hours, first building the beds with other volunteers, all of whom had melted away as the night had gone on. All, apart from you and Nick.

“Yeah? Well I pegged you as the type of mayor to sit on his ass all day.” You snipe back, not thinking for a moment, before slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “Sorry, Mayor Wasicsko, that was really unprofessional of me-”

You stopped your rambling, because … was he laughing?

You flip your end of the sheet the two of you are attempting to fit to the bed, successfully causing his end to yank out of his hands, flying up and causing enough of a breeze to dislodge his hair enough for a strand to flop onto his forehead. 

Not that you’d noticed. 

“I told you, call me Nick. And it’s ok,” he’s still smiling, annoyingly. “I just - you don’t have some annoyed boyfriend who’s sitting at home waiting for you?” 

You shake your head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” You finally tuck in the corner of the sheet at the top of the bed and move to the bottom. “And anyway, I hate Valentine’s.” 

Nick throws you a pillow and a case when you hold your arms out. “So you hate love? And happiness?” 

You roll your eyes at him, busy stuffing the case, leaving him to struggle with the duvet, gathering the new sheets for the next bed as you talk. “No. I just … I hate the commercialisation of it.” 

You wait for Nick to finish with the duvet, before attempting the next bed. “It’s like … so what? If my hypothetical boyfriend doesn’t get me flowers, and chocolate and some shitty card on this one specific day of the year, he doesn’t love me?” You scoff. “No thanks.” 

Nick tucks in his corner, thinking about his response. “I think it reminds people to be thankful for the people they love.” Oh God he’s one of those. As if he hasn’t managed to drop in the fact that he’s woefully single for the last two hours whenever the opportunity arose.

“Only romantic love,” you remind him. “And,” you continue, remembering more and more reasons. “It’s all over-priced anyway, and it’s just so couples can feel smug while they walk hand in hand down the street, trying to get a table to a restaurant, where the prices have been upped for two people, and so single people, specifically women, can feel shit about themselves?” 

You harrumph again, handing Nick the other end of the sheet. “There is good about it though.” He’s looking at you differently, and you’re not sure how, but maybe it’s because you’re having the first real conversation with him tonight, despite having worked for him for the last year. 

You’d talked before, of course, but it usually had something to do with politics, Nick ducking out of his office to ask your opinion on something, before returning back to his phone and papers. It had never been a two-way conversation like this, never nothing to do with either of your jobs. 

You raise an eyebrow, tucking in your corners as you wait for him to make his point. “What about the half-priced chocolate the next day?” And … he nearly has you. Until you remember a counter-argument.  

“So it’s back to its normal price?” 

Nick looks at you like he’s never seen you before in your life. But he changes tack, which you take to mean that you’ve won that particular battle. 

“And what’s wrong with celebrating love? Even-” He anticipates your response before you do, “-if it is just romantic love?” He grabs the pillow before you can, leaving you to struggle with the duvet this time. 

You’re smiling now, unable to help yourself, as you watch the Mayor of Yonkers, of all people, pick up a pile of bedding. He looks good like this, you think, shirt rolled up to his forearms, collar open, tie left behind somewhere with his jacket. Not that he doesn’t normally look good. 

You’ve become more relaxed too, you can feel it, as though every bed that the two of you have completed has shod you of another layer, making you feel lighter. Your heels are by the door, and you are a similar height to Nick without them, which you’ve never noticed before, either being taller than him, or sitting in his presence. There’s something weird about it, but also nice, in a domestic sort of way, as your stocking feet pad around the beds, occasionally catching on the wooden floor. You hope you don’t get a hole. Or worse, a ladder. 

But you know it’s your mind which has relaxed the most. Allowing you first to smile at his jokes, then joke back, the tension in your shoulders melting away. And now this. A deep conversation. Which you suppose was bound to happen, the two of you alone after the last volunteer had called it a night at 1am and gone home. But love? Really? 

“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating love. It’s just forced, somehow. Like you’re a bad person for not doing it, just because of some long-dead guy who’s now in our calendar.” You finish your duvet, and move to help Nick. 

“I think you’re wrong.” And maybe it’s the way he says it, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “I think it makes sure that people take a breath and appreciate what they have.” 

He looks so hopeful, you stop the scoff in your throat, instead letting yourself consider his point. “Well it doesn’t matter, it’s …” You pause and check your watch, blinking in surprise. “Fuck. It’s four in the morning. It’s not Valentine’s Day anymore.” 

And then you look up. Properly. 

There’s one bed left. You turn around, admiring all the made-up beds. Ok they could be neater, but so what? 

“Well.” You turn back to look at Nick as he speaks. “Do you want to take advantage of those sales, or not?” 

You blink at him, even as he gestures at you to take the other end of the sheet, unsure if you’re dreaming now. 

***

When you exit the town hall, the sky is the cool blue of pre-dawn. Grey clouds still hang, heavy and angry over Yonkers, a precursor of the rain to come. It’s been a cold night, a glimmer of frost on the ground, but you can already feel that it won’t last the day.

You yawn, rubbing your eyes with one hand, while your other holds your heels. Nick’s thrown his blazer over one shoulder, the tie hanging out of his trouser pocket. “C’mon.” Is all he says as he walks towards his car. 

It takes a second for your brain to engage. “What?” Your voice has become hoarse from a lack of sleep.

“Can I show you something?” And how can you say no, when he leans against the car roof with one arm, opening the door for you, and looking like that?

Inside the car it’s warm, and tiredness sinks down on you until you can hardly keep your eyes open. Nick only asks for your address, which you give him, and then you’re asleep. You wake when he stops the car on the high street, but fall back asleep when he tells you he just needs to pick up some groceries. 

You don’t wake up when he comes back, nor do you wake up when he sets off again. You open your eyes when he gently shakes your shoulder. The sky is much brighter now, the sun peeking over the horizon and you blink, looking at your watch. It’s nearly 7. Which means Nick let you sleep for 2 hours. It takes a second for your surroundings to fall into place, green and brown surrounding you.

Nick’s sitting next to you in the driver’s seat. And in the back seat are his groceries. 

You blink again. Harder this time.

Praying your makeup isn’t smudged all down your cheek, you move to sit up straighter, where you’d fallen asleep against the window. “What … where are we?” 

Nick doesn’t answer until he’s grabbed one of the bags, clambering out and opening your door for you. “We are in one of the city’s finest parks.” He announces, using his Official Mayor Voice.

As far as you can tell, it’s a pretty basic park. The only notable point is the view. You can see the full scrawl of Yonkers below you, as the sun rises to your right, still fighting the storm clouds left over from yesterday. Funny. You’d heard there was going to be more rain. 

As you step out of the car, you put your heels back on, and wince a little. Nick hands you a blanket to carry and sets off towards a clear area without too many trees, and you follow him, spreading the blanket for the two of you to sit on. Nick’s put his blazer back on and you try not to be disappointed, reminding yourself that he’s your boss. 

He places the bag between you, and … it’s stuffed with half price Valentine themed food. Chocolates, champagne, even a small teddy. You can’t help it. You let out a laugh as the two of you sit next to each other, the bag between you. 

“I never knew the Mayor would be a cheapskate.” You’re only half-serious, and you think Nick knows this, catching the glint in his eye as he replies. 

“You’d rather I bought you this full price?”

You shake your head, grinning, but confused on the inside. You must be tired. Hearing that the Mayor, your boss, wants to buy you something for Valentine’s? You must be misinterpreting this. 

“And I’ll have you know, that everything in this bag came to less than what it would be in a normal month.” He winks and you groan, theatrical and over the top. 

So instead you open the chocolate, grabbing the first one you see and popping it in your mouth. “Nice though,” you mumble, without having swallowed your mouthful, savouring the sweetness of it as it coats your tongue, eyes closing as you lean back on the blanket, missing the way Nick looks down at you. 

“Yeah? Worth every cent, aren’t they?” You smile, shaking your head. 

“Yes, Nick.” You finally sigh, giving in. “Worth every half-price cent.” You squint open an eye, waiting for his reaction, glad when he laughs, propping yourself up onto your elbows so you don't fall asleep again. And then you look down, and your eye catches on a bottle of champagne. 

You reach for it, twirling it on the ground. “So Nick, seeing as how you’re the Mayor and my boss,” you start, sure you’re going to get what you ask for, “and we worked all night long, can we have today off?”

You look at Nick to see him watching your face, amused at the long winded way you’re going about this. Finally he nods. “Yeah I think we deserve the day off.” 

You grin widely then, sitting up properly with a burst of energy, and pop the cork. You take the first sip straight from the bottle, leaving a small ring of lipstick behind. You use your thumb to wipe it off before passing it over, the bubbles still tingling on your tongue, washing away the chocolate. 

Nick takes a healthy swig as soon as his hand is wrapped around the cool bottle, and you can’t help but watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows, wiping at a drop that escapes his mouth. 

You turn to the rest of the bag to distract yourself. There’s at least 3 boxes of chocolate, a pack of strawberries, and a small bear. All of them have the tell tale yellow half-price stickers in clear view. You pull out the bear, amused. “He’s cute.” 

Nick hands the bottle back to you, running a hand through his hair. “Got a name for him?” 

You think about it for a minute, before deciding. “Arthur the Fourth.” And you place Arthur at the bottom of the blanket, so he’s looking at the two of you. 

Nick frowns, looking between the two of you. “The Fourth?” 

You laugh, biting on another chocolate. “Yeah. Throughout my childhood, I have had three other teddies, all named Arthur. He will be the fourth.” 

“And you lost them all?” 

“No, I still have Arthur the Third.”  You wash the chocolate down with another sip of champagne, and when you go to scrub away your lipstick again, Nick’s hand stops you. He shakes his head, like he’s having a secret conversation within your public one. 

“Shame to hear about the first two though.” You let him take the bottle from you, watching as he - his mouth - touches your lipstick. You can feel your heart rate raise, thumping inside your chest like a drum. You can still feel the ghost of his hand, warm where it touched yours. 

You look down on Yonkers again, unable to cope. “Yeah, well. It’s how it happens in real life, I guess.” 

The two of you fall silent as the sun climbs pathetically further and further, finally disappearing behind angry storm clouds. Conversation is quiet observations, both of you feeling wrapped up in a bubble of tiredness. 

You lie back down, ignoring how the cold of the ground is seeping through the blanket now and closing your eyes as you take a chocolate from the box which you intend to be your last, and you can hear Nick’s smirk when he talks. “Chocolate’s not too bad then?” 

You just hum, pretending to think about it. “Yeah not bad,” you finally agree, opening your eyes and turning your head to watch Nick as he leans back on his hands, “But it’s not Valentine’s day so you haven’t changed my mind …” 

And Nick’s looking at you like that again, and you could never in a million years anticipate his next question. “So you wouldn’t count this as the best Valentine’s Day date you’ve ever been on?” 

You freeze, what? You decline in that moment to mention that it’s the only Valentine’s date you’ve ever even been on, and you also choose to ignore that it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore, shaking your head. You can’t quite believe what you’re about to say, heart beating faster than normal, blood thrumming in your ears. “I would count it as the best date I’ve been on.” 

And then you’re laughing at the look of shock on his face, quickly stopping when he ducks down to kiss you. 

Nick, your boss, the mayor of Yonkers, is kissing you. 

It takes you a second to respond, shock freezing you where you lie. But then your hands are on his neck, pulling him back down over you as he deepens the kiss, tongue exploring your mouth. His forearm is resting on the blanket next to your head, supporting his bodyweight, his other hand cupping your cheek. His moustache is tickling you slightly, but you don’t care. 

He tastes sweet, from the chocolate. But then, you can taste the bubbles from the champagne, you can taste how cold it was, you can taste the birds chirping in the trees above you, and you can taste how warm the sun’s rays felt five minutes ago.

It’s perfect.

Until the clouds open above you.

It starts gently, and you don’t feel it at first, and when you do, you ignore it, more interested in snogging Nick. Your feet are becoming wet quickly and the rain falls in large drops. 

Nick’s the first one to pull away, and you follow him, chasing his lips with your own, not wanting to open your eyes. When you do, you realise your feet are wet from the bottle of champagne falling over, and Arthur’s looking to be in danger of rolling away. 

You can feel the rain on your head, and the drops are falling faster. You snatch Arthur and the now-empty bottle up, Nick scrambling to get everything back in the bag. At the last second, you ball up the blanket, ignoring how it brings half the floor with it, and the two of you run towards Nick’s car, laughing as the rain soaks the pair of you. 

***

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

[rosecentaur1916]

A Thread Through Time Masterlist

Hello! Welcome to the Masterlist for my new Fan Fiction Series! This is a collection of reader insert one shot stories of most of Oscar Isaac's characters. Note that there are a few I will not write stories for, like at all because of age or other factors that make me uncomfortable. This Masterlist will contain a list of characters that I will update as/if I find more.

Characters I will not write for list:

-The Pool Boy from“Illtown”

-Joseph from “The Nativity Story”

-Nick Wasicsko from “Show Me a Hero”

-Paul Gauguin from “At Eternity's Gate”

-Gomez Addams from "The Addams Family" or "The Addams Family 2"

-Francis Ford Coppola from "Francis and the Godfather" -Peter Malkin from "Operation Finale"

-The Interpreter from Che: Part One

-Dante Alighieri or Nick Tosches from "In the Hand of Dante"

I will NOT be writing a chapter about Oscar himself. He is married with two children. I do not feel comfortable with that. Plus this story is about his characters not him. All chapters depend on me knowing the character and the short film/movie/show they are from. If I haven’t watched the short film/movie/show they are from, I can’t write about them, so some characters will have to wait until I see their short film/movie/show. 

Apocalypse is included in this. He will have a chapter all his own.

These stories will be in some sort of order, its just not going to be timeline order that'd be too difficult as Oscar could go and make a movie about something that takes place in 1900 and I've already written chapters earlier in that time period, and I wouldn't want to re-arrange everything just to fit it in. So these will more or less just be snapshots through time and space of the all over "thread through time" that connects Reader and the characters love story. All of these chapters/one shots will contain smut or at least smutty themes. They are all going to be M/F for the most part unless there is a reason to change that, like adding a partner that may be there in canon. I.E. Lady Jessica from Dune. Reader is always female, as I am female. I'll try to use as general terms as much as possible, but I am female and identify as female and I write from my own perspective. Write what you know, right? (The answer to this should always be yes.) All of the characters will be written the way I interpret them from their various shows. If you don't like that, then don't read it. I don't want to be persecuted because you found character [x] to be characterized one way and I didn't write him your way. If you want your character written your way, go and find those fics or write them yourself.   This fic is inspired by pathetic_fallacy’s one shot collection for Lin-Manuel Miranda entitled “It’s Always Been You" on Ao3.

Credits for pictures I used from upsplash for story picture: Photo by Alex Lion on Unsplash ← Clock

Photo by amirali mirhashemian on Unsplash ← Thread

Photo by Octavio Fossatti on Unsplash ← Couple Holding hands

Chapters: Chapter 1: Epigraph Chapter 2: The Ship of Orestes

Chapter 3: Au Contraire My Dear Blue

Chapter 4: Rydal, I Stole your Heart with Slight of Hand

Chapter 5: Laurent's Tragic Masterpiece -- coming at some point. Chapter 6: Chapter 7:

Chapter 8:

Chapter 9:

Chapter 10:

Chapter 11:

Chapter 12:

Chapter 13:

Chapter 14:

Chapter 15:

Chapter 16: Chapter 17:

Chapter 18: Chapter 19:

Chapter 20:

Chapter 21:

Chapter 22:

Chapter 23:

Please Reblog Divider by @cafekitsune

[god-complex-12]

It’s gonna be a sad one, each one is gonna have the same kind of set up, but a different theme.

[orestesimp]

MASTERLIST

Bud Cooper x f!reader

Office Playboy - smut 18+

William Tell x f!reader

Forgiveness - smut 18+

Sleight of Hand - smut 18+

Nick Wasicsko x f!reader

Friday Afternoon - smut 18+

[freelancearsonist]

Inauguration

Nick Wasicsko x fem!Reader

Rated MA for graphic sexual content and use of language

1,269 words

A/N: Happy International Fanworks Day!! This has been in my drafts since August so I’m glad this is finally out in the world. I hope you all enjoy and I think you in advance for your likes and reblogs! ☺️💛

“Oh, so the voters just let anyone into office now?”

Nick’s face lights up immediately when he hears your voice, and even more so when he sees your face.

“I can have you thrown outta my office, y’know,” he chuckles, turning his chair so he can get a better look at you. “That’s a thing I can do now.”

“Really? ‘Cause it might look kinda bad to the press if you have your own girlfriend thrown out when all she did was bring you your favorite lunch.”

You didn’t think it was possible for his smile to get any wider, yet it does.

“You angel,” he gasps as you hold the bag up. “Okay, you’re officially allowed in my office anytime you want.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at the way he perks up like an attentive puppy. “Good boy. That’s what I thought you’d say.”

You set the bag on the corner of his desk and lean down to kiss him, plucking the thick cigar from between his lips. It’s an expensive brand—the smoke doesn’t smell nearly as bad as what he smoked pre-mayorship.

He hums as you set the cigar in the ashtray, hands eagerly pulling you into his lap while his legs remain propped up on the desk.

“Y’know,” he whispers, lips trailing slowly across your jaw as your hands settle in his neatly-styled hair, “I’ve been thinkin’ all morning about fucking you in here.”

You gasp at his plainly-stated vulgar sentiment, a small smile spreading across your lips as he lightly bites at your neck.

“Is that right, Mr. Mayor?” You smirk wickedly at the small groan he lets out when he hears you use his title in such a sultry tone.

“Please tell me you locked the door behind you when you came in.”

You laugh softly as he starts tugging at your dress. “Of course I did. You’re not very subtle, baby. You’ve been looking at me like you’re about to pounce since I walked in here.”

He growls playfully as your hands relieve him of his tie and trail down to fumble with his belt buckle.

“We’ve gotta be fast,” he moans softly, groaning when you shift and grind directly into his growing arousal. “I can’t miss any calls.”

You laugh softly at that. “Don’t worry, babe. You know I can make you come fast.”

He chuckles breathlessly as you finally get his belt undone and shove your hand into his boxers, wasting no time to wrap your fingers around him and slowly pump his engorged length.

“Ohhhh, shit. Shit, honey...” he gasps, hips bucking greedily into your touch. He loves letting you take control, giving you the reigns. He’s dominant in every aspect of his life, especially with this new job, and that makes it so much better when he submits to you.

“Does that feel good, sir?” You purr, a smirk ever-present on your face as you taunt him. He whimpers at your voice, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back like he’s in pain. He probably is—he’s biting down incredibly hard on his lip to keep himself quiet as you pleasure him.

“Please,” he gasps, finally at his breaking point. “Gotta be inside you, honey.” 

He gently pushes your hand away and pulls you in, wide palms pushing the skirt of your dress up over your hips. He groans louder than he should when he finds your panties—or rather, the lack thereof.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” He groans as he thumbs through your folds and finds you already slick and ready for him.

You bite back a moan as he swirls his fingertip around your clit. “I had a feeling you might want to have dessert before lunch, yeah.”

He chuckles at that and pulls back just enough for you to line yourself up with his cock, and then you sink down and his breath catches in his throat and you have to preemptively clap your hand over his mouth because he can never keep himself quiet on the first push inside. He loses conscious thought and becomes part of you, like a wrecked ship sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He’s wrecked for you.

He groans against your palm when you slowly start rolling your hips against him, eyes closed tight like he’ll burst if he even looks at you for a second.

“Look at me,” you whisper, dipping down to softly kiss his neck as you start to move your hips a bit more. “Let me see you.”

His eyes flutter when you pull back, and he lets out another groan when he sees you, bottom lip pulled between your teeth, pleasure evident on your face. He loves that he can make you feel good like this.

You lift your hips up until only his tip remains inside you, and he curses loudly when you drop down and settle your hips firmly against his. He loves when you move like this, when you can feel every effect of his length inside you. Your pleasure has always been his priority, no matter how many time and different ways you do this together.

He takes the hand that you have clamped over his mouth and drags it down, lets your palm rest against the column of his throat. “Close, baby,” he gasps, barely a whisper.

His hand trails down between your legs, thumb a little sloppy but not even a little bit ineffective as it starts to rub firm circles into your clit. He always knows exactly how to touch you to pull you over the edge—always makes sure you come before he does. He’s a generous lover; never takes more than he gives.

“Please, honey,” he whines, and you almost contemplate putting your other hand over his mouth as you gently squeeze his throat. “Gotta... you gotta come first, baby. Please... fuck, let go for me.”

And you do just that—with another firm sweep of his thumb around your clit, he feels you clamp hard around him.

His chair creaks a little louder than you wish it would as he bucks up into you, cock pulsing as he pumps his thick, warm cum deep inside you.

You pant heavily as your hips still and you fall forward to wrap your arms around Nick’s neck. His lips connect lazily with yours, a breathless chuckle pushing past his lips as he feels you flutter around his softening length.

“One hell of an inauguration celebration,” he laughs softly. “Think we’re the first people to fuck in here?”

You scoff at that, your smile wide as you carefully lift off of him. “What, you think Martinelli was getting any? No, I’d say it’s pretty likely we’re the first idiots to christen this office.”

He chuckles at that and tucks himself away, humming as you swipe a small lipstick smear off his neck. “Fair point. You stayin’ for lunch?”

You shake your head, offering him an apologetic smile. “Gotta get back to work. I’m probably already gonna be late. Worth it, though.”

He grins up at you and gently pulls you in for one more kiss as you straighten your dress. “Thank you, baby. I love you. I’ll see you for dinner?”

“Dinner,” you confirm with a nod. “I love you. Have a good first day in office, Mr. Mayor.”

You shoot him a wink over your shoulder as you dash out of his office, and he lets out another groan. You’re going to be the death of him, and there’s no other way he’d rather go.

THE END

Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

Want to support me? Please consider donating to or commissioning me through my Ko-Fi, I would really appreciate it! 💕​

​

[freelancearsonist]

Long Night

Nick Wasicsko x fem!Reader

Rated MA for graphic sexual content, top!reader, and use of language

1,182 words

A/N: This is a part of my one-year anniversary celebration, as requested by the lovely @houseofthirst!! I hope this lives up to your expectations Cami, ily 🥺

“Color system, yeah?”

A bob visibly traces down Nick’s throat—he feels vulnerable and exposed and he’s never been so entirely enthralled by a new experience before.

“Green is good. Yellow, we readjust until it’s green again. Red is a full stop.” Your tone is stern as you tower over him—he’s taller than you by quite a bit, really, but he feels so small stretched out on the mattress with you looking down at him. “C’mon, baby. I need to hear you say it.”

He nods eagerly, snapped out of his temporary trance at your request for acknowledgement. “Yes, ma’am. Color system. I’ve got it.”

You can’t help the small giggle that leaves your lips. “Oh, poor baby. So hard that you can’t even think?”

He lets out a soft whine when you lean down and your lips meet his neck—you find his sweet spot immediately and it makes his hips buck unconsciously.

“Huh-uh,” you tut, pressing a firm hand to his thigh. “Sit still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whines. He’s so perfect and obedient it makes you want to scream.

“What do you need?” You ask softly, teasingly trailing your fingers up and down the length of his thigh.

“Y-you, ma’am.”

You smile at that. “I know you can be more specific than that, baby boy.”

Nick gulps thickly before he speaks again. “T-touch me. Please. Please ma’am, I want you to touch me.”

You raise an eyebrow at his whiny plea. “I am touching you, honey.”

It takes every ounce of self control he has not to snap back. “I need you to touch my cock. Please.”

“That’s my good boy.” You wouldn’t dream of denying him, not when he’s being so wonderfully obedient, so you trail your fingers farther up his leg until they can wrap around his impressive length. He whines at the slightest bit of contact, and you smile again because you can physically see him fighting the urge to buck into your grip. “Does that feel good?”

“So fucking good... p-please...” he gasps when you trace your thumb over his tip—this time he can’t resist the urge to buck into your touch, but you mercifully forgive the slight deviance.

“Please what, darling?”

“Ride me,” he gasps before he can stop himself. And then he notices his error and adds a quick “please.”

You trace your fingertips along his jaw, a soft smile spreading across your lips. “Do you still have your old handcuffs?”

Another gulp traces down his throat—you can see his fingers twitch because he knows exactly what you’re implying through your question. 

“D-drawer,” he gasps. “Nightstand.”

It’s endearing how he can barely speak, so flushed with need for you—it only takes a few moments for you to find the cuffs and then you pull his arms up to the pillows and loop the cuffs around his wrists and through the metal beam of the headboard.

“Does that feel okay, darling?” You hum softly as your lips trail up the length of his neck.

“Y-yeah,” he whines. He keens towards you—desperate for any kind of contact, and even more so now that he can’t touch you himself. “Please. Please, ma’am, I’ve been so good, I... I need you.”

You can’t argue the facts—he’s been more obedient tonight than he ever has before. You’re proud of him, and it only takes you a second to decide on rewarding his good behavior.

He watches with eager eyes as you straddle him and finally give him the relief he’s been so desperate for.

He moans louder than necessarily when you sink down on his length—it’s nearly overwhelming, how tight and warm and wet you are for him. It’s a far cry from everything else since you dragged him into the bedroom and started teasing him mercilessly.

He tugs fruitlessly at the cuffs, eager to get his hands on you and steel himself—but there’s no way to ground himself because you’re on top of him and surrounding him entirely and all he can do is melt to your will and let you use him as your hips speed to a fast, steady pace.

“Talk to me, baby,” you encourage gently as your fingertips gently trace over his mustache. “What’s your color?”

“Green,” he whines, tossing his head back for leverage to buck up into you. “So green.”

He whines again when you trace your fingers down and over his lips—his mouth parts, willing and ready to take anything and everything that you’ll give him.

You gently press two fingers into his mouth as you pick up your pace—you love the vibration of a high-pitched moan that you can feel on his tongue.

“Almost there, Nicky?” You ask with a soft smile, and all he can do is nod vigorously.

“Y-you first,” he mumbles around your fingers, eyes pleading. Normally, he has the ability to reach down and bring you to your end himself. But like this, secured to the headboard and cursed with knowledge of the punishment to come should he move, he’s entirely at your mercy. “Please, ma’am, I... I can’t come without you.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, regardless of how absolutely filthy it is, and it only makes you pick up your pace as your free hand drifts down to your clit.

Nick watches with wide eyes as you rub firm, quick circles into your clit—he moans even louder than you do when he feels you clench hard around him.

Your voice is far more breathless than you mean for it to be, but you can’t be bothered because you’re teetering right on the edge of bliss and it’ll barely take a soft breeze to knock you into the thrashing waves of pleasure that wait below the cliff. 

“Nick, come for me. Come now, come with me.”

Ever the obedient lover, Nick’s release is almost instant. His groan is so loud it nearly goes hoarse as he bucks up into you—and if your body wasn’t wracked with your own orgasm, you would be able to acknowledge and appreciate the way he twitches when he fills you up with pump after pump of his warm, thick cum.

He melts even further into the mattress when his orgasm is through—he whimpers once when you slowly lift off his cock, and again when you find the key for the cuffs and finally release his strained arms.

But the loudest noise he makes is when he sees the mess he’s made between your legs—a mixture of both his and your cum.

You know what he wants before he even opens his mouth to ask, and you raise an amused eyebrow as you lay back against the pillows. “Do you want to clean me up with your mouth, baby boy?”

He can hardly do much more than nod eagerly. “Yes, ma’am. Please?”

You bite your lip as you spread your legs and give a permissive nod.

It’s going to be a long night, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

THE END

Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

Want to support me? Please consider donating to or commissioning me through my Ko-Fi, I would really appreciate it! 💕​

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[freelancearsonist]

What about 13 with Nick? 🥺

ooooh i had so much fun with this one!! thank you for sending my love 🥺💛

#13: You and your soulmate have matching tattoos that become clear once you meet.

You’ve been in politics for a few years now, but New York is foreign territory for you.

Even though Yonkers isn’t the big city, it’s the second biggest. And it’s entirely nerve wracking to start such an important new job in a city where no one knows you.

There’s the usual push back against a female district attorney in the late 80’s, but for the most part everyone is nice and helpful to you.

You make instant friends with Vinni, who makes it her personal mission to check the little ink blot on the side of your neck everyday.

“Not yet,” she sighs wistfully.

Even though she’s married and has a few kids, her own tattoo hasn’t clarified. You suppose she lives vicariously through you.

“Maybe not ever,” you chuckle—not entirely sad. You’ve made your peace with the fact that some people never find their soulmate; that they have to find their own happiness. If that has to be you, you’re not going to fight it. Fate is a fickle mistress.

“Oh, have you met Nick yet?”

“Nick?”

“Councilman Wasicsko,” Vinni clarifies with a smile. “Young guy, only a couple years older than you. He’s pretty handsome.”

“Considering the fact that all of the councilmen I’ve met have been my dad’s age, I’ll say no,” you giggle.

“His tattoo hasn’t clarified yet, either.” There’s a suggestive hint in her tone, but you merely scoff. What are the odds that your soulmate would work in the very building you do? “And he’s coming this way right now.”

You want to roll your eyes at how excited she gets, but you bite your tongue when you see him. He’s incredibly handsome. Soft features and sharp jaw and he’s so gorgeous with a mustache that looks horrid on everyone else that it makes you want to cry.

“Nicky!” Vinni grins, jumping to her feet so she can pull him over to you. “Let me introduce you to our new district attorney.”

A blush paints Nick’s cheeks as he extends his hand towards you to shake.

“H-hi,” he grins. “Nick. Wasicsko. Councilman.”

You giggle and give your name in return, and Nick’s smile only widens.

Vinni stares expectantly at you, and then her jaw drops as she breathes your name.

“You... your tattoo...”

Your stomach twists violently, and for a moment it doesn’t feel real. There’s no way it’s clarified. There’s no way that this moment is happening as simply as it is.

But you know it is. When Nick walked over, the small spot of ink at the base of his neck was still a shapeless blob. Now it’s clarified, twisted and cleaned itself into the form of a small eagle.

And even though this is the most unceremonious moment, you don’t think it could be any more perfect.

“Hi, soulmate,” he gasps—his face burns from his wide his smile is.

“Hi,” you grin back.

And even though you’ve only just met, you feel complete for the first time.

soulmate au prompt list

[freelancearsonist]

Twelve Days of Smutmas

Yeah, you read that right 😂 since I haven’t posted in nearly two months, what better way to return to writing than to give you all one little ficlet every day until Christmas?

Prompts taken from this list 

Day One - “Usually it’s just a kiss under the mistletoe...” (Abel Morales)

Day Two - Trapped during a winter storm (Duke Leto Atreides)

Day Three - “You’re freezing, let me warm you up.” (Llewyn Davis)

Day Four - “We’re apart this season, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves.” (Poe Dameron)

Day Five - “You’re on the naughty list.” (Nathan Bateman)

Day Six - The only singles at the holiday party (Nick Wasicsko)

Day Seven - “The holidays are stressful... we need some relief.” (Evgeni Kolpakov)

Day Eight - “Oh, look, mistletoe.” (Poe Dameron)

Day Nine - “Suck on my candy cane.” (Blue Jones)

Day Ten - “I hate everything about the holidays, except you.” (Nathan Bateman)

Day Eleven - “All I want for Christmas is you.” (Llewyn Davis)

Day Twelve - Waking up early for “presents” (Santiago Garcia)

This list will be updated everyday December 14-25th so make sure you check back each day for a new fic! :)

[freelancearsonist]

Smutmas Day Six

A Nick Wasicsko x Reader Drabble

Rated M (Mature) for mentions of past sexual activity and illusions to current sexual activity

468 words

Day Six: The only singles at the holiday party

Twelve Days of Smutmas Masterlist

A/N: I’m so sorry today’s drabble is a bit lackluster, I had a really rough day yesterday but I really want to keep on with Smutmas. I hope you all enjoy :)

Sickening.

It always is, to see all of your coworkers happy and snogging their significant others at the small City Hall Christmas party. It’s the same every year, so you’re not quite sure why you’re even here. You’ve never even found a friend to accompany you, much less a significant other.

Usually, you can find a group of singles to last the couple hours out with.

Tonight, though, there only seems to be one.

One that you have a rather intimate history with.

Three times. No, four. Five? You can’t remember the exact number of times you’ve slept with Nick Wasicsko. He’s a good friend and drinking buddy and on a few nights where the pressure was bubbling and you got a few drinks too deep, you both decided that you were young and attractive and deserved to feel something, even if only for the night.

And then one night turned into two, three, four, over the span of a year.

Friends with benefits? You wouldn’t exactly use that term, since it’s only happened a few times. It’s casual. Do you wish it was something more? No. Yes. Maybe? You don’t want to think about it too much, which is an indication that your true answer is yes, you suppose.

“So...” he mutters, sliding into the seat next to you. “Here we are again.”

“Save the small talk,” you scoff, a fond smile on your face. “You wanna get out of here?”

He blushes, covering it with a cough. “I actually... was wondering if... maybe you’d want to go on a date sometime?”

You’re hallucinating. Clearly you drank too much egg nog and now you’re having some kind of fever dream.

“A date? What?” You laugh nervously. This is everything you’ve wanted, and yet you can’t possibly believe he actually wants it too.

He just tucks his hands in his pocket. “Only if you want. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah. Y-yeah, I’d...” your hands are shaking a little bit from the surprise and the excitement. He actually wants you? He wants more too? “I’d really like that, Nick.”

He grins brighter than the sun at your words. And then he sets his hand on your thigh. “Okay. I’m... I’m really glad.” He chuckles. “And... if you still wanna ditch this party... I’m definitely not opposed.”

“Good.” You pull him into a deep kiss, thankful that everyone nearby is too preoccupied to notice. He moans into your mouth instantly, a little louder than appropriate, and you can’t help smirking against his soft lips. “Or... maybe you can show me your office?”

He moans again at the thought, then takes your hand and eagerly drags you across the hall. You have to keep a hand clamped over his mouth so as not to alert all of the other party-goers.

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[mattmurdocksscars]

I would like to hand out Halloween candy with Nick please ❤️❤️

The house was decorated, costumes adorned, candy waiting. All that was left to do was to wait for the little trick-or-treaters to show. You sat on the front porch, leaning your head against your boyfriend's shoulder.

"Hey, sweetie?" You hummed softly in acknowledgement. "What do you think it's going to be like?"

"What what's going to be like, love?" Nick pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, pressing a hand to your slowly growing belly.

"Getting to trick-or-treat with our own little one." Before you could answer him, there was suddenly an outburst of childish laughter from the end of the driveway and both of you grinned at the little kids running up to the porch. Nick helped you stand before the two of you met the kids at the steps, gushing over their costumes and handing out candy to them. As you bid them farewell, already another group of children were approaching.

Nick's question went unanswered, but as he watched the way you interacted with the children, he knew what it would be.

Trick-or-treating with your own children would be nothing short of wonderful.

[freelancearsonist]

one-shots

Inauguration

➔ Rating: MA

➔ You congratulate Nick on his election win.

Long Night

➔ Rating: MA

➔ You pull Nick out of his own head by taking complete control of him.