A PROFESSIONAL INTERVIEW -- Sebastian Vettel
A PROFESSIONAL INTERVIEW -- sebastian vettel
part 4/5, previous l l next (coming soon!)
pairings! redbull!sebastian vettel x fem!journalist!reader
In which, Sebastian Vettel has always been a cocky, and an annoying f1 driver to interview, but suddenly his tendencies seem more flirtatious than annoying.
note: hopefully this isn't too bad, trying to do character developement! i really enjoyed writing this chapter, even if it was a bit rushed!
taglist! @viennakarma, @chiliwhore, @i-wish-this-was-me, @gcldtom, @sugyomama, @bladestark, @queenofmanydreams, @bb-swift, @leclerking, @fanboyluvr, @killjoynotes
You let out a loud scream the second you woke up and took in your surroundings.
You had a good night's sleep, opening your eyes, surprised by the lack of a hangover. An arm wrapped around your waist, face buried in the man's chest. He was warm, perhaps a Mongasque from the club. You turned around, and could not contain your scream of horror, surely waking up all surrounding people in the hotel.
What the hell was Sebastian Vettel doing in your bed
And what the hell was he doing naked!
He covered his ears with his hand, and rolled over, once you finally came to clarity and covered your mouth with your hand. Seb turned back over, about to say something before noticing you sitting up against the wall, tits out, and Seb's face dropping in shock. Seb exclaimed something in German that you could only assume was an obscenity as you tumbled out of the bed, fully naked and filled with anger. You pulled on your underwear first, suddenly mad that it was a thong, but you were trying not to panic.
“You better be turned around!” You exclaimed over your shoulder, pulling on your bra. Seb turned back, his face pressed against the pillow.
“I obviously saw you naked last night!” He called out. He looked out of the corner of his eyes as you rummaged through the drawer, trying to find something that could fit you and wouldn’t exactly look like it belonged to Seb. “Can I look back now?” “Whatever, you’re right, it doesn’t matter.” You said, you held up a pair of grey sweatpants. “I’m going to take them.” “Those are my favorite sweatpants.” Seb said.
“I don’t care!” You said, pulling them up, and cinching the waist in.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Seb asked, he seemed slightly frustrated at you. You had assumed his flirting would result in nothing, that was not nothing. Sure, you imagined he didn’t want it to end like a drunk hook up. A few memories returned to you, his confession, your instigation. You had instigated it, why had you instigated it?
“Maybe if you had your pants on.” You said, tossing a pair of plaid boxers to Seb, he pulled them on, throwing off his sheets and walking closer to you. You moved out of the way, still searching for a top, not planning on leaving in a push up bra. Seb pulled on another pair of sweats. You picked up a hoodie off the floor, it was a plain gray color, matching the sweats, you pulled it on.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” You asked, not wanting to talk about it at all.
“You know, we hooked up.” “Yeah.” “What are we gonna do about it?” “I’m on the pill.” “But what about how we interact, does this change anything, should it change anything?” Seb said, leaning on the counter. “It doesn’t have to change anything. We were crazy drunk. There’s an explanation.” You said, looking over at the door, considering making a run for it, quitting your job, and moving in with your parents, or Y/B/F, if you could pay enough rent she’d let you stay.
“I meant what I said, I remember that, at least.” Seb told you, making eye contact with you. You squirmed away from his gaze. “I would like to be more than just-”
“Seb, I can’t do this right now.” You interrupted him, holding up your hand as if to push him away with some sort of telepathic ability. “I’m going to chase Jenson down, get my key, and I’ll see you in Silverstone.” You smiled awkwardly, trying to give him some sort of sense of peace from your words. Seb frowned, giving you a response you didn't expect.
“You’re skipping three races?” “Yeah.” “I won’t see you for a month.” “I always go on breaks during the season. Usually around this time because it makes me feel like I just have some massive summer break. They don’t need me, so I’m not going.” You said with a shrug. Seb mumbled something you couldn’t hear. He looked down at the ground as you said your goodbyes, you felt bad. You wanted to give him a hug, wish him luck on the championship, have a nice time with him in Monaco, but no, you left.
You weren’t quite sure what you did at your parents house. You spent a lot of time thinking too much about your decisions, acknowledged the fact that you had little to no life outside of formula one, and had a good time with your family. You felt somewhat numb, just mulling over your thoughts and rejecting guys in the grocery store. You didn’t even know why you rejected them. You supposed that covered your break.
But now it was time to get back to formula one, and face your suppressed thoughts and actions from the country of luxury, Monaco. You had attempted to keep Seb out of your mind, but he managed to sneak in during late nights and cold mornings. You wish you remembered everything from that night, but you didn’t, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You could hook up with him again, your brain offered, and you let out an annoyed groan, slamming your hands over your face. The mother daughter pair next to you gave you a side eye, but you didn’t care. You pulled on an eye mask, just wanting to sleep.
You woke up in London, the plane landing with a slight jolt. You checked how you looked in a pocket mirror, mascara smeared, bronzer splotchy. You wiped it all off in the airport bathroom, before going out to collect your luggage. You were thankful for the bright colors as you made your way to the parking garage, planning on taking a taxi that usually crowded the garage for people without cars.
“Y/N, over here!” Shouted a voice, you turned around, brows furrowed as Lewis Hamilton waved over to you, jogging over.
“Do you know the work I had to do to get here?” He said, sighing slightly. “To find out about when your flight was landing.”
You hugged him briefly. “You could’ve texted me.”
“You didn’t text back.”
“Did you text me when I was in the air?”
“Probably.” Lewis replied with a shrug. “Anyway, I’m here to take you to the hotel. Figured I’d show up all your other driver servants.”
“You didn’t have to.” You told Lewis, smiling as he rolled your suitcase to the garage, you in tow.
“I kind of did, and you still have to drive.”
“Oh no, I have to drive a beautiful car, whatever will I do.” You said, you pressed your hands over your face to resemble comedic fear.
“Don’t break any traffic rules.” Lewis told you, chucking your suitcase in the back with no mind for fragilities. “Also, we need to talk.”
You pulled out of the garage. It was a luxury one, and so easy to exit and make your way into the highway, unlike most airport garages.
“What do we need to talk about?” You asked. “Your terrible haircut.”
You didn’t think baldmilton was a look, but Lewis looked serious. “I know about you and Seb in Monaco.”
You froze, turning toward him slowly.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh my god, it's true! I mean the photo looked incriminating, and then the other one of the two of you the day after.” Lewis said slowly, in shock. He examined your expression, certain it reflected your thoughts clearly. “Holy shut, you hooked up with Seb!”
“What photo?” You asked. “Lewis, was there a photo of me going into his hotel room?”
“You didn’t know about it?” Lewis asked. “Have you been under a rock these past weeks?”
“Yes!” You exclaimed. “Where is Seb staying? We’re going there.”
You pounded against the door of Seb’s airbnb, shouting into the wood for Seb to open the door. Lewis placed one hand high on the doorway, ready for Seb to open the door.
“I’m coming, Ficken!” Seb shouts, you heard him jogging to the door, and tried to decide what expression to put on your face. Seb swung open the door, seeing Lewis before you. “Hey, Lewis.”
“Good afternoon.” Lewis said with a smile.
“Hey, Seb,” You said, interrupting their friendship. He looked over at you, a smile appearing on his face before he switched it to a “cool guy” look. “Um, we need to talk.” “You were serious when you said you’d tak in the UK?” Seb asked, placing his hands on his waist.
“Yeah, I was, but we also need to talk about the photo.” You said, pursing your lips together. Seb nodded, gesturing for the two of you to come inside.
“Are you sure you guys want me here?” Lewis asked, crossing his arms. “Yes.” You and Seb replied at the same time. You sat down on the small kitchen table, Seb taking the seat across from you, and Lewis taking the comfortable loveseat in the corner.
“So, what about it do you want to discuss? We can’t take it down, everyone’s seen it, and we did exactly what they’re saying.” Seb told you.
“Well I don’t want to get fired.” You said, you hated that Seb was right. You couldn’t do anything to make it better. “You aren’t going to get fired.” Lewis reassured you.
“You really aren’t, I checked with your boss.” Seb added on.
“Seb! You told my boss we hooked up!” You exclaimed, wanting to slam your head against the table.
“No, I didn’t! I told her you slept in the guest bedroom.” Seb shouted in defense. You let out a sigh of relief.
“So now you just deny deny deny to the other journalists.” You said, and Seb nodded.
“Or we could just say we’re dating.” Seb offered, and you frowned.
“I don’t want to lie about things like that, Seb.” You admitted. Call yourself a romantic, but you only had a few relationships, and you didn’t want to lie about one, especially not when feelings were starting to sneak in for the person who offered it.
“Okay,” Seb replied. The three of you sat in silence for a bit, before Lewis finally spoke,
“Y/N, what interviews are you doing this week?”
“Mark, Seb you got left out, Alonso, and your best friend, Nico!” You told Lewis, counting off the names on your hands. “Also Micheal, which I’m super excited for.” “Have you met Nico and Micheal before?” Seb asked, playing with a napkin on the table between his fingers. You felt the sudden urge to take his hands in yours, but suppressed it.
“Yeah, I’ve interviewed them both a few times, and last year Nico and I sat next to each other on a flight from Japan to Monaco because first class had no seats.” “I feel like you and Nico would get along.” Seb commented, you raised an eyebrow. “Why?” You asked. Sure, you and Nico had gotten along fine during the flight, but you weren’t sure what they were talking about and Seb appeared to ont want to explain it to you, but Lewis jumped in.
“You two are drama queens, and I’m allowed to say this because Nico is my best friend and I think you and I are close enough for me to say that.” “I’m not dramatic!”
“You screamed when you realized we had hooked up, actually screamed.” “You don’t need to remember that, and Lewis doesn’t need to know it.” You told Seb. You picked up your bag, and turned to Lewis. “I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You bid him a small smile, waving to Seb, and grabbing your bag as Lewis trailed behind you.
Silverstone would turn out to be boring, Mark won, and the Mercedes boys were nice. You would be kind to Seb in Germany, as it was his home race, and in Hungary you would frown, and try to avoid attention. You suppose you would have had a better time if it hadn’t been for the lasting effects of the stupid photo. You hadn’t been fired, which you were endlessly grateful for, but the gripes and comments were enough to ruin whole weekends. Your dear friend Y/B/F obviously noticed this over calls, and so all the sudden you were invited to a villa in Ibiza.
How she made this happen? You had no idea. How the two of you didn’t have to pay a cent? Again, a wonder. She made magic happen, and you loved it. You were glad you didn’t have any summer plans, and had packed various bikinis and adorable summer outfits in case some sort of miracle happened.
Now you were landing in Ibiza, ready to party it up, swim in the ocean, and get drunk off your mind. In any order.
Seb didn’t know why he had decided on Ibiza. Peer pressure, maybe? Jenson was, Lewis was, Nico was, even Fernando and Mark were going. Seb had spent the first four days on the beach. Despite his young rouge persona he had cultivated, he wasn’t the biggest fan of parties and the whole playboy life every other formula one driver had. Seb could flirt around, it was almost like his second job, but at the end of the day he wanted a girl to go home with. He lay in his bed in the dead of night, the sound of waves crashing against rocks rushing through his window, and the sound of Lewis and some model fucking sneaking through the walls. Seb pressed his hands to his ears, and sat up.
A run, he should go for a run. Seb walked over to his drawers, pulling on sweat shorts and a black crewneck. He grabbed his phone, and headed downstairs. Certainly he couldn’t wake anyone more than the driver sleeping in the room on the far right. His phone rang loudly and suddenly. Seb rushed outside, that could have woken somebody asleep on the bottom level.
“Who is it?” Seb asked, not prepared at all for the next conversation. “Seb!” A voice gleefully called through the phone. “You picked up!” “Y/N?” Seb asked, in genuine confusion, what were you doing calling him at one in the morning.
“Yeah, it’s me, so I know you’re in Ibiza.” You told Seb, lowering your voice to a whisper.
“I am, are you?” Seb asked, confused. “Why are you calling me at one in the morning?”
“Why are you up this early in the morning? Okay, so these people my friend and I are staying with say I need to get a ride home because I can't handle my alcohol or something.” You complained, slurring your words. You couldn’t handle your alcohol. “I don’t know, so I called you. Is there any chance you can pick me up?” Dead silence over the line.
“Yeah, I can.” He told you, going inside and grabbing the keys to the rental car. Fate must really have wanted him and Y/N to get together, or his delusions. “What bar are you at?” “You’re an actual savior, Seb.” You said, sounding genuinely grateful as you told him the name of the bar. “Okay, I’ll be sitting on a chair against the wall when you get here.”
You hung up before Seb could offer to stay on call. He thought he was supposed to be the blunt one. He drove easily through Ibiza, enjoying the convertible porsche. It was hot in Ibiza, but slightly colder in the night, and the warm wind made it much more enjoyable. The club he arrived at was massive, and when he bypassed the bouncer – pulling the driver card, he found that it was even bigger inside. Neon lights blasting from the dj booth, and fake plants covering the walls.
A chair against the wall, Seb wondered, this place is massive, and is there even a chair in here?“Yo! Yo!” Someone called out. Seb looked up, furrowing his brows as a girl pushed past people to get to him. “Yeah, you! Blondie!” “Blondie?” Seb asked, pointing at himself. She nodded, stumbling over and placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah, you’re Sebastian Vettel right?” She asked,
“Listen, I’m looking for someone, it’s kind of late, I don’t really want to sign anything right now.” Seb told her, looking around the massive room for any sign of a fucking chair.
“Ugh, you are a jerk.” She said, an image of disgust on her face. “I’m the girl you’re looking for’s best friend! Yeah, Y/N, do you know her?”
“Y/N said I was a jerk?” Seb asked, of course this girl was your best friend, and he managed to seem like a total asshole.
“Yeah, anyway follow me.” Y/B/F said, grabbing Seb’s shoulder and dragging him through a massive crowd. You were not in fact sitting on a chair, but a bucket, and essentially jumped into Y/B/F’s arms the second you noticed her.
“Hey babe.” Y/B/F said, handing you over to Seb with slight ease. She whispered into his ear, “She’s on eight drinks Y/N, so about to be possibly sick, and have many epiphanies.” Seb placed his hands on your shoulders as you first noticed him.
“Oh! Seb, this is my best friend in the whole world.” You said, smiling at Y/B/F. “And also the person who ruined Ibiza.” “You wouldn’t have Ibiza without me.” Y/B/F said, sliding a massive tote bag over to Seb. “Also, I hope you can crash on his couch because . . . ,”
With the smile the two of you exchanged, Seb assumed Y/B/F was going to be doing the same activity as Lewis was occupying himself with that very night. “Okay know get the fuck out of here before you throw up or pass out on top of somebody.” Y/B/F said playfully. “Love you!!” “Love you too!” You called back, latching onto Seb’s arm and immediately putting your entire body weight on him. “Thank you so much, Seb.” “Yeah, anytime.” Seb said, pretty sure he actually meant it. He pushed open the door, taking in a breath of actual fresh air.
“Let me guess, the porsche-uh.” You said, slurring your words heavily. Seb nodded, opening the convertible door for you and dropping you in the seat as he took his place at the driver's seat. You wore a tube top and a sarong, the sunburn around the halter bikini top and bottoms indicating a day spent at the beach.
“Did you have an eventful day?” Seb asked, you nodded, leaning across the central console to press your cheek against his shoulder. “Yeah, but I think I should quit clubbing.” You told him honestly. “I always do stupid things.”
“Mhm, like hook up with me.” Seb commented. He could feel your frown through his shirt.
“I think if I hadn’t been drunk it wouldn’t have been too much of a mistake.” You told him. “I would’ve been sneakier.”
“Sneakier?” Seb asked, smiling despite himself. He had to remember, you weren’t you after eight drinks of whatever alcohol you had consumed that night. Most likely some Spanish drink the bartender made up to scam tourists. You suddenly sat up straight, hand covering your mouth.
“Pull over.” You said, dead seriousness.
“What?”
“Pull over right now!” You shouted, clutching the door of the convertible. He swerved to the edge of the road. You essentially fell out of the car, he jumped out, rushing over to you and managing to pull your hair out of your face just in time as you threw up, not once, not twice, but three times on the concrete sidewalk. “Ugh, sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Seb said, lifting you up slightly and seating you on the passenger's seat once more. “Do you feel okay?”
“Yeah, less drunk I think.” You said, grabbing the massive tote bag Y/B/F had handed Seb. “Luckily I actually packed everything I’d need in case every terrible thing occurred tonight.”
You then pulled out a toothbrush and a toothpaste stored in a small plastic bag, and efficiently began brushing your teeth. Seb glimpsed the driver’s villa in the distance, and turned over to you.
“You’re okay with sleeping on the couch, right?”
“I’m fine as long as I can sleep.” You said, spitting the toothpaste out over the side, and collapsing back in the seat. You were slurring your words less now, but it was still there. “I’m just so fucking tired.”
“You’ll be able to go to sleep in a second, don’t worry.” Seb said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as well. Exhaustion was supposed to be contagious, wasn’t it? Who knew, it seemed like whatever you felt affected Seb.
“Okay.” You said, clutching your bag like a pillow. He pulled to a stop in the driveway, helping you out of the car, essentially being half-carried the entire way through the door.
The massive windows facing the beach illuminated the living and kitchen, exposing a sight Seb wasn’t sure he was ready to see. Lewis and his hookup nude filling up two separate bowls of cereal.
“Hey Seb.” Lewis said with a nod. His face changed expressions instantly to surprise and slightly happy when he noticed who you were with. “Look who you found!”
“Hey, Lewis.” Seb said, resisting the urge to cover your eyes.
“Hey.” You said with a smile. You turned to the model next to him, and smiled at her. The woman smiled back. “You have very nice boobs.”
“Thank you.” She replied with a wide smile. “You have nice ones too!”
You smiled, and the model girl waved you a farewell as she and Lewis returned, Lewis holding two bowls of cereal. They covered his nipples at least.
“Are they going to eat cereal while having sex?” You asked, mouth slightly agape.
“You can go and ask if you want.” Seb offered.
“I’m good.” You said, laying down on the couch, and rummaging through your massive tote bag.
“Do you want me to grab you blankets?” Seb asked.
“Duh.” You replied, pulling out a pair of black shorts from your bag. Seb turned around and essentially sprinted up the stairs to grab a handful of blankets from the closet. When he came back. You had changed into a gray baby tee, and black cotton shorts, face squished into a pillow. Seb smiled at the image of you asleep, memories brought back to the days he had been an absolute asshole, and you hated him. Developement? He placed the two blankets on your resting form, slightly surprised at how quickly you had managed to change and fall asleep.
“Good night.” Seb whispered.
“Are you leaving?” You mumbled.
“What?” Seb asked, slightly frozen above you. “Why aren’t you staying?” You asked, grabbing his hand tightly and pulling him closer. “You want me to sleep on the couch with you?” “Mhm, you’re warm. Like a human heater.” You mumbled, wrapping your arm around his forearm. Seb frowned slightly, not quite sure what the right move would be, choosing to sit down on the edge of the couch. He leaned his back against the pillow. You adjusted your sleeping position, resting your head on Seb’s chest and wrapping your arms around his waist in a way that made Seb nervous to move too much. “My not so sweet human heater.”
You woke up later in the night, maybe four or five am. Slightly hungover, and intending on closing your eyes once more as you looked up at Seb. His eyes were fixated on the wide windows overlooking the beautiful ocean. You wished you could know what he was thinking behind those baby blues.
next (coming soon)
More Posts from Slapmewithacroc and Others
Red Flags
CO-WRITTEN WITH @thirstworldproblemss
Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader (hints of Marc Spector x female reader)
Summary: Sweet as he is, dating Steven means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way.
Or alternatively: You get to use that ankle restraint on Steven and sit on his beautiful face.
Rating: really fucking explicit
Warning/content: will cause unrealistic sex expectations, bondage/restraints, cunnilingus (face sitting), safe sex; unsafe relationship choices.
Word Count: 9.2k (ahahahah please don’t look at me)
[Series Masterlist] [Tag List and Masterlist]
The warning signs were written all over him like a marquee outside a theatre, lit up in gold and bright flashing red neon.
On the first date you were supposed to have, he stood you up, only to call you four days later on a Wednesday night. Closer to midnight than dinnertime, oblivious and confused and asking where you were with a slight panic in his voice.
“Date’s tonight, yeah? Saturday at seven?”
Un-fucking-believable.
Keep reading
can I request a hobie brown x fem reader where hobie swings to his friends apartment and knocks on her window and the reader has to patch him up and hobie is just kinda quiet because he hates people caring for him (he doesn’t want to be seen as a burden) but reader assures him its fine and maybe hobie confesses to her? <4
COUNT ON YOU
— Hobie Brown ★
PAIRING: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader
A/N: DISCLAIMER I’ve never read a single Spider-Man comic in my life, this is PURELY based off of what I saw in the movie. THIS IS VERY VERRRYYY OOC BUT enjoy! :)
You were finishing up on homework, even though it was 2 in the morning. It wasn’t uncommon for you to stay up late to finish your assignments. It also wasn’t uncommon for your best friend Hobie to knock on your window injured.
You took off your headphones and looked to see where the knocking came from. You saw the familiar Spider-Man mask with spikes staring back at you through the glass. He was holding his side and his mask was a little beat up. You quickly got up and opened the window for him. “Hobie? Are you alright?”
He climbed inside your room and ripped off his mask, throwing it somewhere on the ground. “Yeah, just peachy,” he said, his voice was low and very clearly sarcastic. You frowned and gently grabbed his hand, “C’mon lets get you patched up.” He stepped back and took his hand away from your grasp shaking his head. “No, it’s alright.”
“Hobie, you’re bleeding. Lets go,” you told him firmly. Before he could respond you grabbed his hand and started walking to the bathroom. You flicked on the light and pointed to the toilet seat, “Sit.” He groaned but didn’t argue against it, he knew better than to argue with you this late. He could see the bags under your eyes as he observed you grabbing the first aid kit.
He sat down and you walked toward him, placing all your supplies on the bathroom counter before looking over at him. His face was cut and he had a wound on his side. You grabbed a rag, you ran water over it before kneeling in front of him. “You’re lucky it isn’t that bad, I’ve definitely had to help you with worse,” you chuckled looking up at him.
He only nodded in reply which you thought was weird but didn’t question. You focused back on cleaning the wound, luckily it wasn’t deep, but you could feel his burning gaze on you. You knew he didn’t like getting cared for like this but he was your best friend, it was basically your job to help him. “You know I want to help you right?” You asked softly, breaking the silence.
You looked up at him seeing a look of confusion on his face. You explained further, “I mean you don’t have to feel bad about me helping you all the time. Your job is dangerous and I’ll always be here help you out.” You offered him a small smile and he snickered, “You’re corny.” You playfully hit his knee and the both of you fell into a comfortable silence with small smiles on both of your faces.
You took a dry towel and dabbed at his side. Once you cleaned it you put on a bandaid. You stood up and smiled proudly, “There!” He nodded and stood up, about to walk out until you stopped him. “Wait-” you grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back down on the toilet seat. “You still have a cut on your face.”
“Just a small one, it don’t matter.”
You rolled your eyes, “I’ll treat it anyway.”
He glared at you but nodded, deciding that you might as well since you already cleaned his other one. He hated getting help and he hated people telling him what to do but he couldn’t help but let you. He wasn’t proud of it, honestly he was slightly embarrassed. But as long as he never admitted it out loud, he would be okay.
Except for the fact that he wanted to tell you how he felt.
He wanted to tell you he’s attracted to you and that he’s thought of being more than friends with you but he didn’t know how you felt about him. And it wasn’t like him to talk about his feelings, even to you. You began running the wet rag across his cheekbone gently. You made sure to wipe the blood off and clean the cut.
You noticed Hobie gulp and you looked at him, now noticing your close proximity. You smiled softly to yourself and continued your work on the cut. You grabbed a bandaid and put it on his cheek. Hobie slightly shivered at the contact but got up as soon as you were done. “Alright, cya later.” He walked out of the bathroom and went into your bedroom quickly.
“Woah woah woah, wait a minute,” you called out for him. He stopped in front of the window and turned around to look at you. “You’re just gonna leave? Not even a thank you?” You asked. He pointed at you, “Thank you, now goodnight!” He turned around to the window again but you pulled his arm and pulled him back to face you. “What’s gotten into you? You’re acting weird.”
“Not that weird.”
“Pretty weird.”
He tossed his head back and huffed out a breath. You raised your eyebrows waiting for him to give you a clear answer. He slowly lifted his head back up to look at you. He stepped a fraction closer to you, now close enough to able to feel your body heat. He examined your features for a moment before shaking his head.
“Nothing. Night.” He swiftly grabbed his mask off the floor and opened the window. “Bye Hobie,” you said quietly. He looked back at you and then forward again. He put on his mask and in a flash he was gone. You flopped on your bed and covered your face with your hands.
You stayed like that for a moment thinking about the interaction you just had. You shook your head to clear your thoughts and pulled the covers over you, ready to sleep. What you weren’t aware of was Hobie peaking his head to look into your window. It was too late to tell you about his feelings now, so he’d tell you another time! Probably in a year or two.
LOOKING AT HER| S.VETTEL
Author’s note; fuck off Amy.
Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x shy!girlfriend!reader
Summary; Reader has grown to love the feeling of Sebastian’s eyes on her but not everyone understands.
Warnings; fluff, suggestive towards the end, Amy’s a bitch.
F1 Master List
Sebastian always had a habit of looking at her, he just couldn't help himself, he found her so beautiful that it was impossible not to admire her. He didn't understand how he was so lucky to have someone so special as his girlfriend.
It had taken a while for Y/N to get used to his gaze, at first it had made her self conscious, she thought there was something about her appearance or her outfit which had caught his attention but every time she asked he always responded the same way.
"I’m just admiring how beautiful my girl is"
She eventually found herself being used to having his eyes on her, in fact she had grown to like it. It made her feel safe and secure knowing he was there and keeping an eye on her. It was like a comfort blanket to her now.
She did feel nervous under his gaze though, the good kind of nervous. Sebastian was always one for eye contact and his gaze was... intense. It was constantly making her flustered, she'd end up forgetting everything, her words, what she was meant to be doing, everything vanished for her when he was around, all she could think about was him.
Sebastian and Y/N were currently out for dinner with some of Y/N's friends, although the pair of them had been official for over 2 years now Seb hadn't really had the chance to meet her friends properly due to him travelling all the time and when he wasn't they were too caught up in making up for lost time to make plans.
Her friends had been shocked when Y/N who was known to be extremely shy and famous for keeping to herself announced that she had a boyfriend, they had already been dating for nearly a year when she had finally told them.
Imagine their surprise when their incredibly private friend revealed just who her boyfriend was; an extremely famous, successful and rich formula one racing driver.
Y/N was currently in the middle of a conversation with her 'best-friend' Amy when she felt her boyfriends beautiful eyes tracing over her body.
Sebastian thought she looked so beautiful, she has dressed up tonight into a long dress and heels. Obviously she looked beautiful all the time but that dress was really doing something.
It didn't take long for Y/N to get flustered, her cheeks had turned a blush pink and she looked down at the table as she tried to remember her words.
Sebastian smiled, he loved the effect he had on her, knowing that he could get her all riled up just from a simple glance was a huge ego booster.
"Why do you keep looking at her like that? Can't you see it's making her uncomfortable" The table went silent as everyone turned to look at Amy who had purposely made sure everyone heard her.
Sebastian was speechless when he saw that she was staring him down. Making her uncomfortable? He looked at Y/N who was in just as much disbelief as he was, staring at her friend, wide-eyed because she hadn't been uncomfortable at all and she really didn't appreciate her rude tone towards the man she loved.
"Excuse me?" Sebastian almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her accusation.
"You've been staring her down for the past 10 minutes and it's creepy, can you not see how awkward she feels? She's literally shifting around in her seat"
"Amy-" Y/N tried to protest, she usually wasn't one to speak up, preferring to keep out of drama but the way the girl in front of her was looking at Sebastian like he was a piece of shit wasn't sitting right with her at all, especially because he was quite literally the sweetest human she had ever met.
The table watched in tense silence as Amy continued to run her loud mouth which was making everyone feel uncomfortable.
"...Just because you're some rich bloke that drives around in fancy cars doesn't mean you have the right to stare at a woman like she's a piece of meat" Seb couldn't believe the audacity of the woman, she knew absolutely nothing about him.
It seemed Y/N was thinking the same thing because she slammed her hand down on the table "Shut up! You know absolutely nothing about Seb or me, clearly, so stop acting like you have the right to comment on him, his job or his actions"
She then turned to her boyfriend who's eyes were filled with pride "Can we go? I don't want to stay here with someone who had no respect for others"
Sebastian nodded, immediately standing from his seat, placing a couple bank notes down on the table to pay for their meal before grabbing his jacket and holding out his hand for her to take.
He ignored Amy's muttering of "Oh so you need to ask his permission to do what you want as well"
He said a polite goodbye to the rest of the table before the pair of them walked out of the restaurant.
Sebastian briefly glanced away from the the road and over to the passenger seat for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car, Y/N hadn't said anything since leaving the restaurant and it was starting to worry him.
She had sort of curled herself up into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest with her feet resting on the edge of the seat as she stared blankly out of the window.
Sebastian wanted to tell her to sit up straight for her own safety but his worry for what she was thinking was a bigger priority to him at the moment.
"Liebling?" She only hummed in response which increased the worry he initially felt, she always responded properly to show he had her full attention, believing it was rude otherwise.
He hadn't been too bothered about Amy's words in the restaurant but with how quiet his girlfriend was being, he was starting to think that maybe Y/N agreed with her and maybe he did make her feel uncomfortable.
"Are you okay, schatz?" He asked. Y/N heaved out a heavy sigh as she sat up properly before turning to face him.
"I just hate how rude she was to you, she had no reason to speak to you like that and to do it in front of everyone in a public was just wrong, I'm sorry"
"Why are you apologising to me? You didn't do anything wrong, you handled it brilliantly" Sebastian reached over to grab her hand and link their fingers together, his thumb stroking along her hand hoping to provide some comfort.
"I know you went through the trouble to make sure you were free so we could go to dinner with them and now it's just wasted"
Sebastian shook his head "I didn't make sure I was free for the dinner, Y/N. I made sure I was free for you, you're more important to me than any interview or meeting"
Y/N smiled at his words, tightening her hold on his hand, he really was the perfect man.
"Can I ask you a question though?" He asked, seeing Y/N nodding her head out of the corner of his eye "Was she right?"
"What!?" Y/N couldn't believe the absurdity of his question "Not at all"
Sebastian bit his lip, not quite sure if she was just saying that so she wouldn't hurt his feeling "Are you sure? I'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable"
She couldn't help but giggle, nothing he did could ever make her uncomfortable, he was perfect. "You have never made me feel uncomfortable, Seb. I like feeling your eyes on me" she admitted.
Sebastian looked at her with a small smirk "yeah?"
Y/N nodded "Makes me feel sexy" she sheepishly said, turning back to the window to try and hide the blush on her cheeks.
"Oh, really?" She heard to teasing tone in his voice and internally rolled her eyes knowing he wouldn't let her live this down.
His ego had just grown about three times the size from her confession. It felt great knowing that he was able to make her feel so good without really doing anything. "Don't go all shy on me now, come on" he told her, tugging on her hand slightly.
"You're just going to hold it over my head now" she groaned but turned back to him as he wished.
"I promise I won't, I like that I make you feel good by something so simple" he said. The last part was true but he was totally going to hold it over her head.
"You always make me feel good" she whispered, tracing a finger over the veins on the back of his hand.
Sebastian heard her even though she spoke so quietly and felt like he could melt. What man didn't like hearing those words?
"How about I make you feel good when we get back home?" He asked, his tone suggesting anything but innocence.
Y/N's breath hitched knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Absolutely"
Sebastian smirked, turning his attention back to the road but he subtly pressed down on the accelerator.
He couldn't wait to get home.
HAPPY 100 FOLLOWERS!!!! Slow Down (RK900 x Reader NSFW Oneshot)
A/N: hehehehe we're at 100 followers now so i thought—hey, let's celebrate by posting something ~ s p i c y ~
Slow Down (Nines x fem!Reader)
Nines is acting weird.
You decide to figure out why.
Tags: Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Is Bad at Feelings, Sex Pollen (but like a virus), idk don't question it too much, Smut, Shameless Smut, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Reader-Insert, No Y/N, Semi-Public Sex
Read here or on AO3.
Something about Nines has been… off since you left the crime scene together—a WR400, ripped to pieces, in the slums of Detroit; her joints wrenched apart, wires twisted and torn; components, dozens of them—broken, modified, scattered the floorboards of an old, rotting house; thirium, pooling underneath, splattering the walls in grotesquely abstract shapes and patterns.
It had been hard to look at.
You had suggested interfacing with her—it had seemed like a good idea, at the time. You figured maybe, if there was any latent information floating around in her CPU, maybe Nines could find it.
Maybe it would help you find who did this to her.
It could be the best lead you were going to get, you’d said. And he had agreed.
But maybe that had been a mistake.
You glance over at him from the passenger seat of your car, worrying the inside of your lip between your teeth as you scan his profile.
It’s dark—nearly midnight—but the intermittent light from the passing streetlamps is more than enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the way he sits ramrod straight, fingers digging into the surface of your steering wheel. It’s more than enough to see how his his brows furrow. How they’re knitted together into a deep scowl.
He stares ahead, ignores you even though you know he knows you’re watching him, watching the LED at his temple flicker a dull yellow, cycling around and around and around. You look back down at your hands, resting awkwardly on your lap. Take a moment to pick at the non-existent dirt underneath your nails.
The moment he’d touched her—artificial skin retracted, revealing smooth white plastic and unfeeling steel—he’d recoiled, like he’d been burned.
And he’s been acting so weird since.
You clear your throat. “Hey, uh, are you—”
“I’m fine, Detective,” he says. Snaps, really.
“Right,” you murmur, shifting in your seat. You turn your head to stare out the window. Lean your forehead against the glass and let out a quiet sigh, watching as Detroit slides by in gloomy twilight, blurred by rain that streaks across the window.
You try not to think too hard about the way he’d jerked away from you when you touched his shoulder; how he’d flinched when you handed him your keys and just barely brushed his open palm.
The rest of the drive passes in stiff silence, and by the time you make it back, the station is nearly deserted, with only a few bleary-eyed humans and a handful of androids wandering the premises.
Nines is careful not to touch you when he drops your keys back into your hand. Ignores the concerned look you give him and strides towards his desk. You follow, trail after him and sag down into the squeaky swivel chair at your desk.
You chance another glance over at him, across your connected desks. You lean forward on your elbows, watching his LED, a steady amber that flashes red when your gazes meet. Just as you open your mouth to speak, he stands.
“Excuse me,” he says, swallowing thickly.
And then he’s gone.
You chew at your bottom lip again, watch him leave the bullpen and turn down the hall that leads towards the server room. You let out a frustrated breath, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes.
“Motherfucker,” you whisper under your breath.
The guilt gnawing at you starts to grow. It flowers in the empty spaces between your ribs—it sprouts tendrils that wrap around your lungs, thorns that dig into your thudding heart.
It had been your idea, after all.
Maybe you should go apologize.
You shake your head—you should just finish your paperwork and give the android some space, especially if he’s upset with you. You should just give up trying to understand the innerworkings of CyberLife’s most advanced prototype (he’s made it abundantly clear that you’ve failed at that particular endeavor so far). You should just mind your own goddamn business and go home.
But here you are. Standing up, pushing away from your desk to follow after him.
You shove your hands in your pockets as you round the corner. Try to act nonchalant as possible while you walk down the empty hallway and up to the server room door. It’s dark when you get there, which is—admittedly—a little odd, but you don’t think too hard about it, pushing inside before you lose your nerve.
It’s quiet. Really, really quiet. And real fucking cold, too.
You start walking down the center aisle, glancing up and down the rows of blinking servers as you pass them.
“Nines?” you call. “You in here?”
Something sends a shiver down your spine.
“I, uh… I know you said you’re okay,” you ramble, wandering over to a metal table hidden in the back corner of the room, playing idly with one of the spare cables coiled on top, “but I feel like you’re angry at me or something so—”
You’re pushed up against the wall, hard. Fast.
Panic seizes your throat. You fumble for the empty holster at your belt, then recognize the black and white jacket, the steely eyes glaring down into yours.
“Nines, what the fuck,” you hiss, planting your hands on his chest to push him off of you. “You scared the shit out of me.”
You shove as hard as you can, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even budge.
“…Nines?”
His shoulders are heaving. LED pulsing a bright, angry red. “You need to leave.”
His words are sharp, rough, and it sends a jolt of fear through you.
“Okay, sure, just—” your voice shakes. You start to notice the heat bleeding through the fabric of his uniform. “A-are you overheating or something?” you mutter. “You’re—”
You barely choke back a yelp as he grabs your jaw with one hand.
He stares down at you. Forces your head back until you can’t do anything but stare back at him, can’t do anything but bare your throat and melt in pools of molten silver. You blink—absolutely dumbstruck.
Your heart hammers inside your chest, so hard, so frantic, you’re afraid it might burst. Your face flushes—you know he can hear it, know he can feel it, the way your body responds to his—and suddenly, it’s way too fucking hot in here.
He leans down, keeps you against the wall with fingers that burn against your skin. You feel his breath ghosting across your skin, feel his other hand digging into your waist.
You don’t know what to do—don’t know what the fuck is happening.
He mouths at your collarbone and you jolt, fingers flexing in the soft fabric of his shirt. He dips his tongue into the hollow of your throat, traces its shape and hums as he catalogues the taste of your skin. The whimper falls from your mouth before you can stop it.
“Nines-”
And then he’s kissing you. Crushing his mouth to yours.
You struggle to keep up, pressed further into the wall by the intensity, the heat of him. He bites down on your lower lip, so fucking hard it breaks the skin and you taste blood—whimper and moan and let his tongue dip into your mouth and tangle with yours.
You wrap your arms around his neck, twist your fingers in his perfect hair and swallow down every perfect throaty groan he gives you. You arch your back. Press up into his torso, his hips, the hardness you feel against your stomach.
He grabs the backs of your thighs, lifts you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist, and kisses you harder, shoves his tongue so fucking far into your mouth you almost choke on it. He ruts against your clothed core, and the friction, the pressure against your clit—fuck—it makes your eyes roll back.
He carries you over to the metal table, drops you down onto its surface and manhandles you onto your stomach. Drags your pants—your underwear—down just far enough to expose your dripping sex.
“N-Nines!” you yelp, pushing up onto your elbows just to be shoved back down flat, his hand planted firmly between your shoulder blades. You hear him unbuckle his belt, hear him yank his zipper down. “Hold on—”
“Can’t—” he grunts, dragging the fat head of his cock up and down your folds. Your hear lurches, and your hips jerk backwards—you can’t help it.
He sinks into you fast. Filling you so suddenly, so full you feel it in your throat.
You cry out—the stretch, the burn—loud and long and broken off by the hand that clamps around your mouth. That pulls you back to meet his thrusts.
“Quiet,” he hisses. He grabs your hip with his other hand, shifts them so he can hit you deeper, so that he can hit that spongey spot inside you that has you weeping, begging him, muffled by his fingers, to give you more.
White-hot pleasure sears in your center, electric. It pulses harder, as his hips snap into yours, coils tighter with each drag of his head against your walls. You whimper and whine, thrust backwards because you want more—need it.
Your whole body tenses, then fucking shatters—clamping down around his cock.
He pounds into you, fucking relentless. Again and again and again. You splutter nonsense, tears rolling down your cheeks, seeping between his fingers. Begging for him to stop—to go harder. His hips stutter, and he groans, voice staticky and distorted and so fucking hot, pumping you full of his artificial release.
Before you can even begin to catch your breath, before you can really register that he’s let go of your mouth, he flips you over onto your back. Yanks your pants off entirely and grabs your legs, pressing them back flat against the table by the backs of your knees—wide fucking open.
“Fuck, N-Nines,” you whimper, hands splayed out against his abdomen. “Slow down, I-I can’t—”
He drives into you again before you can say anything else. Kisses you deep. Hard. Sucks your tongue into his mouth while he fucks you into the table. Swallows the needy moans, the pathetic, broken whimpers that fall from your mouth.
The stretch. The drag. It’s too much. The way he holds you down. The way he makes you take it. The way pleasure—exhilarating, excruciating—builds and builds and builds; the way it crashes into you and you see white.
He’s filling you again. Painting your insides. Fucking the cum that leaks out back into your abused hole, rolling his hips up into yours. You push on his chest, thrash and writhe underneath him.
He pulls out, pumping into his fist, and cums again—splattering your stomach in artificial release.
The room descends into a fragile stillness. You lay, staring at the ceiling, panting.
“Are you alright, Detective?” he asks eventually, and you manage a weak nod.
“I…” he trails off, tucking himself back into his jeans and righting his jacket. “I apologize, Detective. The interface with the Traci… It… Something happened.”
“Mm?”
He clears his throat. “However, that seems to have… Have cleared the error from my systems.”
“Oh, okay,” you say, nodding again. “Just, uh… Just let me know if you ever need to defrag your hard drive or… or empty your junk mail or something. I’d be, ya know… willing to help out.”
He shoots you an unappreciative glare.
“You should get dressed,” he says.
“Yeah, yeah I will,” you say. “I just need a second. Can’t really feel my legs yet.”
He looks away, but you can feel the smug look on his face.
You can’t really find it in yourself to care though.
Thanks for reading!! Consider giving it a ❤️ and a 🔁 if you enjoyed.
You can check out my other writing here.
Peter Hayes x Reader || Oneshot
Title: The One and Only
Notes:
This is set after the Allegiant BOOK. So, SPOILER WARNING, Peter has used the memory serum.
I love this boy. And his lack of fanfiction is a PROBLEM.
Plot: For whatever reason, you were in love with Peter, and he was with you. But… now he’s gone. And you have to try and forget. Which is hard to do when he’s still around.
Finally, he wants to remember again.
Warnings: There is SMUT. Its indicated where though, so you can skip it if you like ^^ But there is a bit of plot in the middle. Also, swearing.
~~~
“Hey, Y/N!” Without my permission, my heart does a little jump, but it’s not for the person who said hey to me. Sighing, I take my hands from my laptop and straighten my back, turning to smile at Peter as he comes over to me and takes a seat on the bench right by me. I’m sitting sideways on it so my laptop can be set on it as well, so now I’m facing him without turning and trying to notice how differently he sits down, to how he used to. It’s like he completely started over, which he kind of did. His whole life, “Wiped away by chemistry,”. Including the way he walked, talked, and everyone who loved him. Well, person.
Me.
Which was a total dick move on his part, which was the last completely in-character thing that he did.
But, I can’t be mad at this boy in front of me, even if he looks miraculously similar to the dick in question. From his shiny hair to the tips of his greedy fingers. “Hi, Peter, what’s up?”
“Just finished another recall lesson. Still nothing,” He shrugs, uncaring. I already told him that this is what he wanted by taking the serum, to forget everything. So, he doesn’t really try in these lessons that he’s forced to attend, by government law. He believed me right away, weirdly. And has been acting so aloof about it since like somehow, he understands, which of course he can’t. Because he doesn’t know anything about himself or what he did to cause his old self to want to erase his memory! The whole thing, his whole response to this life changing event is aloof, and its infuriating. It’s the main thing that hasn’t changed at all about him, along with his appearance and his firm aversion to sprouts. He’s still really, really annoying.
“You know, I’m glad you’re respecting his wishes to not remember, but maybe you should try and remember some things. I mean, the techniques are working for some of the others, right? You said, uh… Katie, remembered something? Her choosing ceremony?” I watch, expression changing from thoughtful to deadpanned as he takes my can of coke and swigs from it like he spent 3 dollars on it. Once he’s done, I snatch it away from him and set him with a glare as I put it down on the other side of the bench, away from him. It causes a mischievous grin to pop onto his face and a laugh, and I try to forget the other times he’s made that face at me before he took the serum. Because that Peter’s dead, and I need to let him go like Four’s letting go of Tris. It’s not fair to this Peter.
In response to what I said, he just shrugs his shoulders again and look away to across the park- where Caleb is taking some photos. We drove here together, him and me. In fact, we’ve been doing a lot together. As two of the only ones from the original group who knows everything that happened, we have a connection. Peter’s next words rip my attention from Caleb though and makes me want to blurt out no, immediately. “Nah, I mean old me wanted this for a reason, right? I mean, I do kinda wanna know why he wanted this, but I figure he was some kind of depressed loser with self-esteem issues. That’s good enough for me, to keep going like this. Don’t wanna be that.”
Words have escaped me. I guess, I figured he thought something like that the whole time, but… hearing it out loud, in such a certain tone, hurts. My heart fights for me to tell him he’s wrong, at the very least, but my brain tells me to let him go on. Don’t interfere. He told you, before he took the serum, to let him go. Still be friends but let go.
He was being unfair, but that’s nothing new is it? The asshole.
I press my lips together after I get over the shock and horror and kiss my teeth. Deciding this has been enough ‘friendship’ for today, I quickly save my work and shut down my laptop, closing it. “Yeah, um, Peter. I gotta go. Caleb! Caleb, are you done? I’m having an Old Peter moment, so we have to go now.”
It’s not exactly a code, but it is what he or I say when we’ve had enough of new Peter or we’re remembering too much and need to get away. We use it for Tris, too. Even though she really isn’t here anymore. Caleb immediately starts putting his camera in its bag and walking over, without a word.
Peter himself looks unruffled by it, having come to accept it easily that I won’t always be able to handle this. He isn’t exactly cold about it… in fact, he’s understanding. Nearly nice. It makes me feel even sicker. “Oh, by all means, go. I’m gonna stick around a while, see you guys later.”
Caleb nods to Peter, reaching us and turning to me. “See you, Peter. Y/N? Are you oka- Oh,”I pick up his wrist and start dragging him to the car. As soon as I’m in the front seat and I’m buckle din, I look back over to the bench Peter’s sitting at, and catch him watching me. Trying not to scowl at him, I turn back to the steering wheel and turn the ignition. “It’s never going to get easier, is it?” Caleb asks from the passenger seat after a while, looking up from his camera on which he was flicking through the pictures he took.
I shake my head, immediately, heart still clenched in annoyance and ageing heartache. I risk a glance at him, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Nope, don’t think so.”
With that, there isn’t else to say, so we just hold hands. Tightly.
~~~
At dinner later in the community dining hall, I sit with Four and listen to him talk about work for a while. It’s a little awkward, and a lot strange seeing as we don’t talk at all, most days. Not since Tris died, but we’ve never acknowledged that and it’s been months. We were never close in the first place, but once you’ve fought a revolution with someone, you become attached. He’s a staple in my life just as much as I am his, and that’s why our relationship is so strange.
Nodding in agreement to something he said about how ridiculous milk prices are at the moment and how frustrating that is as I skewer a piece of broccoli and place it in my mouth. I don’t foresee Four’s and my relationship ever changing, seeing as we’re so different and have very little common and I don’t particular want to be best friends with him -acquaintances with a non-personal past is nice. Comfortable, without any expectations but still the understanding that we’re here for each other. I like it, - so there isn’t much in thinking about how strange it feels, I just thought I would mention it once to myself. “Also, the toilet paper, you seen that??”
He groans, in response, causing a bubbling laugh to travel up my throat from my chest. “It’s killing me.”
“Killing you! I have a lower paying job then you, I’m gonna have to start using the cardboard rolls soon!” He shakes his head, the tiniest grin on his lips as he looks back down at his food. I feel triumphant. “It won’t be good!!”
“Oh, jeez… “
“Hey, we’re gonna have to rig Secret Santa so you can buy me some, okay?” I point my fork at him conspiratorially. “I’ll get you milk.” He chuckles this time, making me smile.
For the rest of dinner, we continue like that. Talking about our shared financial issues and even switching over to Caleb at one point and how he’s sitting so pretty on his high paying job and his stockpiled toilet paper. God damn Brainiac’s…
It’s a good distraction from Peter, a few tables away.
~~~
When I finally get home, after hanging with some other friends after dinner just outside the community centre, goofing around I nearly suffer cardiac arrest as soon as I walk through the door.
Peter is not usually a menacing presence. But when he’s sitting in my dark apartment in the middle of the night and I had no idea he would be there, that fact changes! I don’t let myself scream, though. I hold my breath until the urge disappears.
After a moment, I let out the breath deeply and turn fully to him, dropping my scarf and keys on the hallway table before moving further into my home, past him. “Peter… “I growl, annoyed at him instantly. I don’t catch the mischievous smirk he sends my back, but I do feel it. “What the bleeding hell?!”
“Sorry if I scared you.”
“Oh, you are not.”
“True.” His cheeky tone puts my senses on high alert. Both because a cheeky Peter has always and will always be something to worry about, and because it used to turn me on. Still kinda doe, but that’s not something I’m about to admit to this version of him. We haven’t established that kind of relationship, nor will we ever. Sighing as my heartbeat slows down to its normal speed, I check the battery level on my pheon before putting it on charge. Then, finally, I sit down at the kitchen table across from Peter and settle into figuring out why the hell he’s here. And… also… how he got in??? The door was locked??? “Key was under the mat, Y/N. You should probably find a more secure hiding spot. Or at least more creative, jeez.”
“… okay… “I roll my eyes. He has a point. “So, Peter, uh… why are you here?”
“Well, I… “I watch while he suddenly droops in confidence and draws something on the table with his finger. These moments are really weird for me. Peter was always so confident before, even when he shouldn’t have been. Its cute, but so, so weird. He draws the thing, whatever it is, then looks around the room, making me remember that he’s never been in here before. An attempt made by me to keep him at a distance, which I guess now has been turned to shit. His shy moment ends, and one corner of his mouth perks up in a half smirk. “I like your place, could get used to it here. I wonder… why haven’t you ever brought me here before?”
“To keep you at a distance.” I say, bluntly. Theirs a slight shift behind his eyes at it, making his mouth turn down a bit in a tiny scowl and his green eyes look cold.
“Has Four been here?”
“Uh… yeah.” I don’t know why I should lie, or why he would look so serious about it. Before the serum, this was his murderous face, but I’m assuming it must be something different now. New Peter doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. “He has, but not for long. He just came to help me move in, hasn’t been back since though… why? Uh, you know what, I don’t care. Why are you here?”
His serious face intensifies. “I saw you with him tonight, and it brought back some feelings. So, I have a question.”
Making a confused, and slightly frustrated face, I shrug. “What kinda feelings?”
“Jealously.” Oh, he’s playing blunt too.
That does make me think, though. Whether this is unwanted memories coming back, or just a glimmer, a shadow of the old Peter coming back for a second. Because, yes, this is exactly something that he would feel before the serum. Any time I was with another guy, especially Four due to his particular dislike of the tattooed, ex Dauntless, he would get so jealous. Usually, it ended with that guy receiving some kind of punishment or dirty look, and me getting Peter attached to me for the rest of the day. Now, though, I should just tell him to ignore it.
But… “So, what’s your question?” I can’t pass up the chance he’ll become a little more the Peter I love. Even though I shouldn’t.
He looks dangerously focused into my eyes, which is also very Old Peter-like. “Were we a couple, before?”
Ahhhh, whoops. I don’t know what I thought he was going to ask, but for some reason this didn’t occur to me. If I tell him the truth, he might remember more then he should. Not to mention the fact that it’ll ruin whatever relationship we have now. And if I tell him a lie, he’ll know. “Umm, well… uh, yeah.”
I hold my breath, as soon as the last word escapes my lips. Have I ruined it? Will he remember, and hate me? He’s silent for just a moment, not giving me enough to time to think of a plan if he does remember, before he leans back in his chair, muscles relaxing.
“Well, that’s news.” Well, that’s not the reaction I expected or one I wanted! At least be sensitive to my situation, Peter! He looks away from me and to the side of the room, and I watch. How will he take this? Will he leave? “Thought I felt something. No wonder I wanted to be with you so bad.”
“Hm, and I thought the new you was just annoying.” I get up from the table and head for the door. “Well, you better go, before you remember anything else,”
“Well, I kinda want to now.”
Don’t be serious, don’t be serious, don’t be serious…
“No, you don’t.” You didn’t want to remember before, you’ll hate yourself even more if you miss out on your one chance to change yourself easily. You’re already doing so well! Don’t do this to yourself, please. “Just trust me, telling you that you don’t want that.”
He looks at me again, and his green eyes change again. He gets up from his seat and comes over to me, a little too close. Oh, no. he doesn’t think just because I was with the other him that he’ll get any action, does he? The jerk. I look up at his face, craning my neck since he’s so close, and feel my heart plunge to my feet. He’s made up his mind, he wants to know. I shake my head at him, he smirks. “Come on, Y/N. Haven’t you missed me?”
I groan, and push him away. “Nooo… I mean, yes. But you’re not him. And I won’t take away your chance, to- “He brings me back to him his familiar hands on my hips. It’s like trying a drug that I long gave up… but still feels so good. Stubbornly though, I pick his hands off of me. I have to try to avoid his eyes. “Peter, go home.”
“No.” The resolve and the determination in his voice shocks me and I look up quickly at his face. He would’ve never refused to leave me alone like that earlier today. Already, his old self is coming… oh no. Groaning again, I turn to open the door and force him out. This is not good. We were doing so well! We were nearing our 6-month mark! It was going to work! And now… now… well, it can still work! It will. I just need to get him out of her- His hands are on me again, oh no. That feels good.
“Y/N… “He tightens his grip on my waist nearly painfully, so familiar and demanding me to give in and enjoy it. You know, before the morning comes and he remembers everything and shuns me. But I wont give up, and I put my hands on his again to try and peel them off, before his breath hits the side of my neck and his voice, dark and with that ever-joking way about it, causing me to pause. The asshole tone. “I want to remember, now. And you’re my ticket. Plus… you’re mine, right? I have some punishment to implement for talking to Four. For some reason that really pissed me off.”
My body’s ahead of my mine, in this. Already leaning back and feeling the warmth of his chest against my back while my mouth still talks about him leaving. “You’ll regret this.”
“Hell I will, now come on.” I turn around to face him, causing him to flash me a bright, Peter smile before he much too soon since I wasn’t really expecting him to ever do this again, kisses me, and it feels so good my resolve melts away. Of course, its still hanging around back there in the back of my heart, but now all the time I wasn’t touching him, wasn’t thinking about him this way has taken over. Not to mention pure, dumb, human sex drive.
SMUT FROM HERE ON
Kissing is nice for a couple minutes, at least. Everywhere his body touches mine, from our chests to our lips and our tongues to my arms over his broad shoulders and his hands holding my hips against his feels solid and exciting. The way he kisses me can only be described as being carnal. Purely animalistic, wanting to taste, and the way I’m kissing back isn’t different at all. I can’t help sucking gently on his tongue when his lips part, causing a lascivious groan to come from him.
In fact, in response, one of his hands comes up to cup the back of my neck and hold my head in place so he take control of the kiss entirely, the other arm hooking around my lower back and compressing me against him. I don’t know if it was his goal, but now I can feel clearly the wicked, familiarly full way of his pants when he’s turned on. Which he is, right now. Truly.
It makes me think for how long he’s been waiting for this, if he’s gotten so stiff so quickly. I can’t say though that I’m in much a different situation. My keenness for him is so that my core is dripping in wait, wanting to be filled by him. Impatient, I break the kiss and nearly give in to it again when his lips nearly follow me but stay strong. “Peter… “Oh god, oxygen. Breath, need it. He’s so hot. His hair’s a mess of brown surrounding his head, scar on his neck is calling out to be sucked on, and his eyes are beautiful. Green, and mesmerising, and tempting as ever. Giving in feels a lot like freedom.
“Yeah?” The word comes out as a breath, quiet with just a hint of his voice peaking around.
I trace my hands down from his shoulders to the rest of him, enjoying the feel. “Sit down, I can’t ride you standing up.”
“Oh, right.” Once he’s sitting down, I can clearly see his erection straining defiantly against his pants before he takes them off, his underwear going to the same place on the floor. I want to sit on it so badly, my legs shaking uncontrollably with arousal as I get rid of my own lower garments. When he sees my shining, wet pussy, he embarrassingly zeroes right in on it, an unstable smirk on his lips. Good, then. I like it when he’s unstable. Never know what he’s going to do to me. “C’mere, baby.” Tentatively, hoping I don’t trip on the way because that would be embarrassing as hell, I do as he says. As soon as I get a foot from him, he gets off the chair and kneels in front of me. Oh, god, if he starts anything here my legs won’t keep me up. “Hmmm, I think I remember you wetter,” I struggle to breath for a moment when he, without warning or even looking up at me, swipes a finger up between the slit of my lips. My hands snatch his shoulders, so I can stay up and I open my legs more, ready. “I think I missed this. Can you tell? My fucking cock feels like its going to snap off if I don’t get to have you.” He glances up at me for a second, then does a double take and looks back at my face again, focusing on it. I wonder what’s going through his head. The old Peter would have told me right away, just to see me go red and squirm. He is becoming that one, slowly, but still this Peter just grins devilishly at me, hooks his hands around the back of my knees and nudges me towards him some more. My body moves on its own, reacting to his hands and shuffle forward.
Then, looking into my eyes, he does something that puts me in the palm of his hands. He licks a long stripe, as if I’m an icy pole, deeply through my lips. It makes me rigid, and moan out in bliss, my eyes falling shut. Not one to be dormant though I really want to, to just let him do whatever he wants to me, I take my right hand and entangle my fingers through his soft, hickory hair and grip his shoulder with the other, swinging my leg over his right shoulder before opening my eyes and peering down at him again. He looks surprised, in awe. I feel freaken powerful. “You… you just going to stare at me Peter, or finish what you started.”
Its not a question, it’s a demand. He needs to do that again.
“Yes, Ma’am.” He flashes me another Peter smile, then gets to work. And man, did my move make a difference. It felt good before, but now I really do think I might lose in my legs, especially since I’m only one! And, god, he looks good eating me out. Like he’s kissing me, taking generous gulps every time his tongue scoops some more of my essence, getting deeper with every plunge until I’m trying desperately to distract myself by playing with his hair. Simultaneously though I’m pressing my heat into his mouth.
In the end, it’s the sucking that pushes me over the edge. Just as I’m getting used to the pleasure, he abruptly puts his mouth over my cunt and sucks, causing shock to rush through me and my eyes to widen. ‘Peter!” I gasp, tightening my grip on his hair, as cum explodes from my core. He doesn’t drink it, just leans back on his heels and watches it drip down my thighs in satisfaction. After a moment, he looks like he’s in a trance as he watches, and I reel from the extreme pleasure.
“It’s going to feel so fucking good in there. I missed this.”
“How can you miss something you don’t remember.”
“I remember Capture the Flag,” He says it off-hand, before either of us can realise that he shouldn’t remember that. I remember. Eric had picked him second for his team and me last because it was either me, or Christina and they didn’t have a good track record with her. I found Peter shortly after he got ‘shot’ with those neuro stim guns, and we stuck around that old carnival after everyone else left. He created a really dumb one liner, entailing that it’d make him feel better if I kissed his wounds. We didn’t get back until the early hours of the morning, getting probably near 2 and half hours of sleep. But he shouldn’t remember that.
My eyes snap down to him and hop down on my knees with him, looking into his eyes. Of course, I can’t tell just by looking at his eyeballs if he’s back, but maybe if I stare hard enough, he’ll tell me. After a moment, he just shrugs a little a smiles, blankly back at me. Then leans across and gives me a deep kiss. He pulls back and grins. “You’re the ticket, sweetheart. I knew it.”
Sighing, having let my hopes raise just then that he would be back, and wrap my arms over his shoulders and play more, softly with his hair. Looking at his lips, then his eyes. “Then maybe you should hurry up and take it.” I lower my voice, my heart bleeding to tell the secret I haven’t dares to utter to anyone, since Peter disappeared. “I want you back. I miss you.”
“I want to be back.” He leans towards me, curling an arm around my back so he can carefully lay me back on the floor. “Hey, when he’s back. Tell him for me that he owes you something big, for putting you through this.”
“Peter, are you making a dirty joke to me right now?” I giggle, looking at the ceiling now as he ready’s himself. He laughs, too.
“No, I actually didn’t hear that until you mentioned it. Really.”
“Really,” I roll my eyes, disbelieving.
“Absolutely Y/N! Now, let me concentrate.” That brings me back to the present. I realise I’m still dripping with cum from before, and when I look up at him above me ready to power into me fully, I realise I still fucking want him. He’s so tall, and strong, and I intend to give him a hickey on that neck scar if it is the last thing I do tonight.
Hooking my legs up and around his waist, I meet him in the middle for the first delicious thrust. I watch curiously, his face as it changes from mischievous to delighted, in an enticingly smutty way. That makes me grin, but then the pleasure hits me and a surprisingly, nearly embarrassingly amorous moan comes from me, as his cock powers through me, rubbing against my inner walls like static. In reaction the pleasure, I arch up into him, and pull him by the hair down to my mouth, pressing a slow, careful kiss to his lips first before moving on to that neck scar.
While he pounds into me, he also feels my ministrations on his neck. I lightly trace the tip of my tongue up the long line, then kiss the middle and start nibbling and sucking there to my liking, taking my time to enjoy it. And I know he does, too, because he mumbled a very sexy, guttural curse at one particular lick. It sent trickles of pleasure all the way down to my core.
This ecstasy goes on for who knows how long, I certainly wasn’t watching the time, before he lets himself go and I watch through half lidded eyes as he comes apart inside me, the stuff leaking out from around his dick and dripping out of me in warm spurts. I gives one last, hard thrust and I come along with him, a sigh escaping me and a sentence of curses from him. Carefully, he disconnects himself from me, and I get up and help him to his feet, beyond sleepy now. “… okay. That was nice, now… sleep?” I giggle, at the understatement and at his cute weary look.
“Show the way,”
“Yes sir, come on.” I lead him by the hand to my bedroom. Quickly we clean ourselves up, and then we hop in and the bed is so, extremely comfy after the floor. “Can’t believe we did that on the floor when this was here… “I mumble, tiredly.
“Wouldn’t be the weirdest place.” He pulls me toward him and I entangle our legs, almost subconiously. I’m so tired I don’t pick up on that hint.
Snorting, I shake my head as I start to fall asleep. “No, guess not… “
~~~
In the morning, I wake up to peter already awake. He hasn’t moved much, just… you know, rested his head on his fist and is watching me sleep.
I squint and push my head back further into my pillow and away from him suspiciously. “… Goodmorning.”
He flashes a wicked grin. Wide smile and dull eyes, like he wants you to think he knows something you don’t. Or worse, he does. Very Peter-like. “Morning, beautiful.”
Even more suspiciously, I try to figure out first on my own what’s up, because something surely is. All I remember is what we did last night, and shame washes over me. Oh, lord… it’s too early for this. “What?”
“Told you, you were the ticket- “That makes me gasp, and sit up immediately, hitting my forehead on his and causing pain that I ignore. He rubs his forehead, but doesn’t seem mad. Just cheeky, and a little evil. “Christ, Y/N, I guess the honeymoons over, huh??”
I clench the sheets under my fists and chew on my bottom lip. “You’re… back?”
He just gives me a look, like ‘Well, obviously’.
No, no. I need a real answer. Does he realise what he’s put me through?? Probably. He is a jerk after all. “Peter?”
“The one and only.”
Six Words (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)
Summary: After a mission goes wrong, you're tasked with keeping an injured Ghost safe from swarming insurgents. When you almost fail to save him, you realize your feelings towards him makes you a liability. Ghost disagrees.
Prompt: #61 "I don't know how to love you" From my prompt list here.
A/N: I need prompts, my head is empty with nothing but Konig and Ghost SOS.
Category: Angst - Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Swearing - Gun Violence - Themes of War
Missions were the hardest part.
The gunfire over comms, the callouts and the target indications. Every now and then you’d wince at the wounded cries of your colleagues, it was always the younger ones who screamed.
And although it was eery, you were glad to hear them. If they were crying it meant they were alive.
It was the silence that you were afraid of.
“Sunshine, this is Bravo-6. How copy?”
You blinked, flicking your gaze from your rifle’s scope. Car horns blared from the bustling city beneath you, unaware of the conflict happening 40 stories high.
“Bravo-6, this is Sunshine. Loud and clear, over.”
If Price was raising you, it meant that the fight would soon be moving into your arcs of fire. You settled in behind your rifle, resting your cheek against the stock. You’d already accounted for the distance and thankfully the wind was steady enough that adjusting your weapon sight hadn’t been difficult to calculate.
“Sunshine, you’ll have company soon, 42nd floor. Clear them out.”
“Copy that, Bravo-6.”
The windows had already been blown out, providing you the clearance to take your shots, so you waited, watching the elevator and stairs with your finger curled lightly against the trigger. However, when someone had finally come busting through the door, you hadn’t expected it to be Ghost.
Jesus. Ripping your finger off the trigger, your heart raced, its panicked beating echoing in your ears like a church bell.
You hissed a curse beneath your breath, what the fuck was he doing in the red zone? Bravo team was meant to herd them onto the 42nd floor so you could clear the board, not pay a house call with them.
“Ghost, what the fuck are you doing?” You snapped into your headset.
You watched him throw himself over a bench on the far side of floor, tucking his body behind it for cover. He turned his head to the window, presumably to where he knew you were nested.
“Shit’s gone sideways, change of plans. I’ll distract them, you shoot ‘em.” His voice was ragged and rougher than usual. Small groans were woven into his words and as you looked at him a little longer, you realized that he was pressing a hand to his stomach.
Ghost had been shot.
Your heart dropped.
“Incoming!” He shouted, twisting his body to face the bench rather than away from it.
You hissed, moving your sights to where they should have been- at the doors. Instantly, you realized there were too many of them, he hadn’t cut down as many as he should have and now it was a race against the clock. Kill them before they killed Ghost.
You got to work, falling into a frenzied rhythm. Spot and shoot, spot and shoot. You forced yourself to not check on your teammate huddled into the corner, to not see if he’d been turned to minced meat.
One by one, they fell. And one by one, anxiety had begun to claw its way through your chest. You had a sniper rifle, not an LMG, it was near impossible to clear this many people before they’d be able to reach him.
“Fuck! Fucking shoot, Sunshine!” Ghost roared through your comms. Your breath was unsteady now. One after the other they fell and one after the other they pushed towards the little bench Simon Riley was hiding behind.
You said nothing, unable to talk, unable to think, only able to shoot and shoot and shoot.
“I’m getting overrun here!”
You pushed your scope to view Ghost. There were four of them on him already and so many more pushing ahead. Your heart dropped as the sounds of your shots became hollower, the tell-tale signs of sound echoing through your mag, you were coming up on empty.
Then there was a dull click where there should have been a ‘bang’.
“Reloading!” You shrieked, dumping the mag and scrambling for a fresh one from your body armour. All the while you watched Ghost fight on the back foot, offense became defence and fluidity became manic.
He was going to die.
And it would be your fault.
“Covering!”
You held your breath.
Soap slid through the doorway, shooting before he’d even had a good look at the scene before him. He knew there was too many of them, he’d heard the radio chatter and he’d heard your panic.
You could have cried at the sight of him.
You finished reloading, repositioning yourself with a newfound hope fuelling your body. Between the three of you, the rest of the insurgents had been light work to clear out. It was a massacre, a sight that would traumatize most with bodies piling along the floor.
But all you could think of was Simon.
You heard his groans as Soap helped him to his feet, muttering comfort beneath his breath the way only Soap could. “Come on, LT. You’re pretty banged up, let’s get you home.”
As the adrenaline began to seep from your body, leaving you shaking and quiet, your mind began to spiral.
Nights spent on the roof, revelling in each other’s company but not saying a word. The short tit for tat banter that you’d fallen into. The drunken nights you’d sought each other out, to chase the nightmares with touches neither of you would remember in the morning.
You’d almost let him die.
Ghost straightened as best as he could, leaning against Soap as the Sergeant held him up. They both came to a stop by the window near the exit, the battered soldier pausing to gaze out across the buildings. And although you knew he couldn’t actually see you, it felt like he was looking straight at you.
“You did good, Sunshine.”
The words were genuine, almost soft if it weren’t the ragged breathing from his injury.
You bit your lip.
When you didn’t respond, the pair continued on, disappearing into the elevator and leaving you to suffer with your thoughts.
_______
The cold, night air always helped to clear your head.
You were sat on the rooftop, legs dangling off the edge of the building as though it were just a normal bench. Your chest rested against the railing; your arms folded over the top of it.
Your mind was a mess.
How had that mission gone so wrong, so fast? Logically, there wasn’t much more that you could have done. You were on the trigger constantly, a body dropped every two to three seconds, a good enough pace when you were constantly switching targets.
But you weren’t fast enough.
“You’re not gonna jump, are you?”
Your body jolted, gripping the railing tight with a gasp so you didn’t fall right off the edge. Ghost stood beside you, clad in a pair of soft black trousers and a hoodie that was drawn over his head. You swallowed your anxiety when he lowered himself to sit beside you.
You’d seen him without that jumper plenty of times, twisting against each other in the dark with alcohol on your tongues. But seeing him with it, seeing him look like any other man preparing for bed, made your heart soften.
“No.” You rasped, answering his quiet joke.
You both fell into silence, but it wasn’t comfortable like it usually was, at least not on your end. You were stressed, the tension rising in your chest to suffocate you. You forced your eyes to remain on the horizon, observing what you could under the moonlight.
There was a nudge by your hand and you glanced down. The man held out a cigarette and a lighter and you forced yourself not to look at the unlit one hanging from his mouth. It was an unwritten rule, when he rolled the mask above his lips to smoke, you would avert your gaze.
You took the cigarette with a sigh and a soft ‘thank you’, perching it between your lips. You lit the smoke, drawing the first drag to keep it alight and Ghost softly took the lighter from you.
“Didn’t know you were out of hospital,” you said, taking another draw. You blinked away the head-spin from the nicotine, feeling the stress melt from your shoulders.
“If you’d known you wouldn’t be up here,” he said simply. You clenched your jaw, hoping he wouldn’t push the subject. You could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face, watching for any tell-tale sign to say that he was right.
But you just took another drag.
“You’re avoiding me,” Ghost finally said outright.
Your heart stuttered in your chest and you made an effort not to crush the cigarette between your fingers.
“I almost got you killed.”
The officer’s breath came out in a short huff, the equivalent of a laugh for the sullen character. “Don’t flatter yourself. We fucked up; you were on clean up.”
Your heart was racing now, but you knew what the problem was. You knew why you were beating yourself up over something that wasn’t really your fault. It was childish and it was immature and one day it might just get you both killed.
You’d become a liability. It was your duty to inform him.
“I’m going to apply for a transfer out of the 141.” Your sentence rang like the toll of a church bell, echoing between you. You couldn’t believe you’d finally said it but you’d known for a while.
“What?” Ghost shifted beside you, twisting his body to stare at you front on.
“I’m going to get someone killed-“
“Is this about today?” Ghost questioned and you risked a glance at him. His lips were curled in disbelief and he flicked the cigarette off the roof. He dragged his mask back over his mouth, but his eyes still flashed with incredulity. “Get the fuck over it, it wasn’t your fault.”
“It’s about you, Simon!” You snapped.
Ghost fell silent.
“I’m fucking compromised,” you stood to your feet, flinging your cigarette over the railing. The soldier followed in suit, towering over you instantly. “I can’t be in a situation like that again- what if I’d have failed? I couldn’t fucking breathe, I couldn’t think-“
His hand came to rest against your shoulder and your words guttered to a stop.
You peered up at him in surprise, meeting that dark gaze. For the longest time, you’d always thought Simon had dark eyes, the blackest you’d seen. The breath left your body when, on closer inspection, you realized they were fucking blue.
For a long moment neither of you said nothing, silenced by the sudden display of affection. There was no end goal, no reason for him to be touching you. No high to be chasing, no bullet to push you out of the way of.
He was trying to comfort you.
He took a sharp breath. “I know.”
You blinked at him, opening your mouth then closing it again. He’d understood. He knew what you were saying, he’d known all along because Simon had been fighting the same thoughts.
When his fingers tightened against your shoulder, your lip trembled.
You wanted to hold him. You wanted to see him.
You knew that you could do neither.
“I don’t know how to love you,” you whispered, “I don’t know how to feel like this and work with you. Watch you get shot at. Be the one to make sure you don’t die.”
Simon shrugged, his gaze never leaving your face, taking in your features as though committing it to memory. He had no words of affection to give you but you could feel it in the way his thumb rubbed against your skin ever so softly, a ghost of his touch.
“You’re smarter than me, Sunshine. You can figure it out too.” His words were careful, and you blinked up at him from where you’d hung your head.
You can figure it out too.
When he pulled his hand from your shoulder, you felt the cold of his absence. But his words had set a fire in your chest that kept you burning.
Six words from Simon Riley were enough to set your world ablaze.
A Breach in Reality
request: If you're taking requests ive been GNAWING for a joaquin x fem reader where they go on an undercover mission to a riiiiiiich ahh gala as a fake couple and they end up kissing to not get caught🤌
pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader
contents: undercover trope, colleagues to lovers, internal angst/insecurity, kissing
wc: 1,572
an: these two are so adorable! thank you for sending in this request anon. I truly hope you enjoy <3
danny ramirez characters masterlist
The mission brief was simple: infiltrate the gala, extract the intel, get out without blowing your cover. The two of you had prepared well, going over your aliases, asking each other questions that someone might want to know, making sure all the gaps were filled.
What you didn’t prepare for is how tight and warm Joaquin’s hand would feel on your waist in the silky gown you’re wearing. Or how good he’d look in his polished suit, black and sleek. How good his cologne smells when you walk hand and hand. How his eyes seemed to roam a little more than usual; you brush that thought away easier than all the others. Of course he was looking at everyone, at you more closely.
He leans close to whisper against your ear as you walk up the marble steps of the venue. He has to say it because it’s true. “You clean up nice, princesa.”
You barely hold back a smile, rolling your eyes at him playfully. “You’re just saying that because I’m your fake date.”
Joaquin’s gaze is sincere. “I’d say it if you were my real one, too.”
You have to look away from his brown eyes because you don’t detect any dishonesty. But you know that you shouldn’t get involved with someone you’re working with, especially with how infrequent you see him. You don’t want to get attached to the idea of having him this way, even if your mind has forced you to dream about it once or twice before.
You value reality and protection of yourself, of your heart over everything. It’s why you haven’t let yourself go on a date in over 5 years. The last time you opened up in that way, you couldn’t remember who you were when it all finished.
The gala is all champagne flutes, soft jazz, and people with money to waste. You keep your arm looped through his, playing the role of the doting partner while you both scan the room for your target. He’s pressing you closer than necessary, his body heat seeping into your skin, but you don’t pull away. You don’t want to.
What’s one night letting yourself feel the affection of someone else, especially when it’s already known to be a farce. No harm, no foul.
“Target’s heading toward the east wing,” you murmur, eyes trained on the man with the silver cufflinks. The pin on his suit indicates he’s exactly who you’re looking for.
“Copy,” Joaquin says smoothly. “Let’s move—”
“Un segundo,” you cut in quickly, pressing into him more firmly to stop him. “Su seguridad está mirando.”
Two guards in suits that linger just far enough to not draw attention to the untrained eye have turned to look directly at you both, eyes narrowed like they’ve seen something they shouldn’t. Like they see right through you.
Joaquin doesn’t hesitate. He shifts in front of you, hand sliding to your jaw like it belongs there. “¿Confías en me?”
You raise a brow at him, like he’s asked you a silly question. And he has, you wouldn’t have agreed to go on a mission with him if you didn’t trust him. “…I’m literally undercover with you.”
He grins mischievously, eyes glittering in the low lighting. “Close enough.”
He kisses you then.
It’s delicate and unexpected, and you’re too caught up in the perfect way his lips feel against yours to remember the mission for a split second. The reality you had just promised yourself you would stay in slips away. His hands stay gentle but sure, holding your face like you’re something fragile, like he’s been waiting for an excuse.
You melt into it—just for a second, just until the guards look away. At least that’s what you tell yourself, because the thought of breaking the kiss never crosses your mind.
It’s him who pulls back, leaving you both a little breathless.
“Convincing enough, yeah?” he asks, trying to sound casual but his voice is rough. He’s clearly affected, but you chalk it up to a natural response from the body.
You clear your throat, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah. They’re uninterested.”
Neither of you moves. He’s still cupping your face, his thumb absentmindedly running over your cheek. And your hands that had moved to ground you during the kiss are still fisted in the fabric of his suit. The mission calls you forward, but something heavier hangs between you—hot, unspoken, electric.
You clear your throat again, loosening your hold on him, still not daring to meet his gaze. “Listas?”
He lets out a breath. “Listo.”
The mission wraps up without a hitch. The target successfully caught, the intel procured. You’re back in the van peeling off your heels with a weighted sigh and trying not to think about the way Joaquin kissed you like he meant it.
Except, how are you meant to not think about it?
You’ve replayed it at least thirty times on the way back to the safe house, each one more embarrassing than the last. Because the thing is, it didn’t feel fake; not for a second. And now you’re stuck wondering if that was just him being good at the job, or if maybe it meant something. Something more.
That’s not a question you’ll let yourself ask though. Reality. Protection. You repeat the words to yourself multiple times.
You’re still in your dress, sitting stiffly on the couch while he moves around the tiny kitchen grabbing water bottles and energy bars like it’s any other mission night. Like he didn’t short-circuit your brain with one very public, very effective, very affectionate kiss.
He tosses a bottle your way without looking.
You recognize it for what it is; an interrogation tactic that the both of you have been taught. Meet a need no matter how small and the person is more inclined to give you the information you need.
“Thanks,” you mutter.
“Sure.”
You open it and take multiple sips, in an attempt to stall. But there’s nowhere for you to go. If you avoided the conversation tonight he would simply ask you in the morning with more eyes watching. At least here the two of you could talk about it alone. You won’t go down easily though.
He finally turns to face you, leans against the counter like he’s waiting for something. His expression is patient and no less warm than always.
“So,” you say, like it doesn’t feel weird. “Impeccable job out there, as always.”
He nods slowly. “You too.”
Silence.
The air’s thick with everything you’re not saying, and you start picking at the label on your bottle because suddenly you don’t know where to look.
Joaquin finally pushes off the counter and walks toward you. Not in a hurry, he’s calm and collected. Deliberate. His voice is soft when he asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you say too quickly. You pause, voice softer when you speak again, “I’m fine. Just… y’know. Debrief brain, long night, longer morning coming. I miss my bed, my cat, eating real food.”
He tilts his head. “It’s not the mission you’re thinking about, right?”
You go quiet, opening your mouth to deny his line of questioning but nothing comes out. You’re rusty when it comes to dating or feelings of any kind— almost feeling like an antiquated machine.
He steps closer, enough to kneel in front of where you’re sitting. His hand rests gently on your knee—not pushing, just grounding.
“I didn’t mean to make things weird,” he says apologetically. “The kiss. I didn’t plan it— I wasn’t thinking that it would make you uncomfortable. Pero, querida… fue real.”
You finally look at him, wide-eyed unsure of what to say. It was real. He meant it. He meant to kiss you.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while,” he admits, his thumb mirroring his movements from before, stroking the curve of your knee. “The op just gave me an excuse.”
Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “Oh.”
He gives a breath of a laugh. “That’s all you’ve got?” he teases.
You blink. “No, I mean—yeah, I mean—I— well.”
He squeezes your knee in an attempt to comfort you, “Breathe, princesa. It’s just me. You can tell me anything.”
At his urging you pause to take a breath, finally able to say, “It didn’t feel fake to me either.”
That earns you a soft, slow smile. Joaquin settles more firmly on his knees in front of you, ducking his head so that you have to meet his gaze. “So how about we try it again sometime,” he says, “no mission, no cover story—just us?”
You grin, a little shy. A little anxious. Isn’t this what you’ve been trying to avoid? Reality and protection. But this reality as far as you can tell. You look at him, your eyes searching, skimming through the depth of his brown eyes. You’re met with nothing but warmth, with reverence and hope.
“Are you asking me out, Torres? Really?”
“Damn right I am. If you let me,” he adds after a moment, voice gentler.
You let yourself look at him—really look—and for once, you stop fighting the warmth that blooms in your chest every time you’re with him.
“Yeah,” you say. “Okay. I think I’d like that.”
He pushes up, hand cupping your cheek like before so that he can kiss you.
And this second kiss?
It’s slower, softer— more thorough with no eyes watching and all the time in the world.
sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl
don’t stop- peeta mellark
summary: a heated make out turns into something more🤭
warnings: SMUT (16+)⚠️ heavy making out, dry humping
authors note: first time writing for peeta so please be kind:) this is one of my fav kind of smut prompts to read and there is absolutely no peeta smut anywhere😓😓i hope you guys enjoy:)
Something had come over you.
It was very rare that you felt so incredibly desperate for your boyfriend, but today that overwhelming feeling hit you like a freight train.
You didn’t know what had made you feel this way. It could have been the way his strong arms looked this morning when he was moving furniture for Haymitch, so perfectly toned and sculpted. Or it could have been the way he held you in his arms this morning and kissed you until your lips were flushed and swollen. Or maybe it was the way his towel hung so lowly around his hips when he stepped out of the shower this afternoon with water droplets still clinging to his abs.
That boy had been driving you crazy all day and you simply could not focus on anything. He consumed your every thought and all you wanted to do was touch him. You found your mind drifting toward the dirtiest thoughts and tried to squeeze you legs together to suppress the frustrated ache building between your legs.
But lucky for you, that same boy was now pinned underneath you in nothing but his boxers with his hands up your shirt groaning everytime you moved above him.
What had started as gentle and loving makeout session escalated to something far more needy and passionate.
Peeta looked so beautiful underneath you, his blonde hair still damp from his shower messily laid across his forehead, his tan chest flexing underneath your touch, his lips glistening with your saliva.
You were straddled on his lap, thighs on either side of his with your hands moving back and forth from his shoulders to his hair. He had one hand on your waist, pulling you closer to his chest and one hand under your shirt, toying with the waistband of your underwear.
Neither of you had come up for air. You were both so desperate for eachother and so obsessed with the other you couldn’t stop. Every kiss was so intense it felt like it could be your last.
After being lost in your own thoughts for a moment, you broke the kiss and shifted your focus to Peeta’s neck, which you knew would drive him absolutely insane. You began to gently suck and bite his neck and then swipe over the spot with your toungue.
Peeta was loving every moment of it.
His gasps and hums quickly turned into groans as his hands left your hips and went straight to gripping your ass.
“You’re so good baby” he groaned into your hair.
You wanted more, you wanted to make him a mess underneath you. You needed it. And you knew exactly how to do it.
While still sucking on his neck, you began to grind your hips onto Peeta. You knew exactly how to roll your hips into Peeta's; a way that would make his eyes roll back into his skull and make his jaw fall slack.
"Oh my god babe" he gasped into your ear.
His fingers tugged the messy hair at the nape of your neck and pulled your closer. You thought you couldn't be any more intertwined with Peeta.
You were wrong.
You felt the obvious bulge in his boxers growing underneath you which only made you grind onto him harder. You wanted nothing more than to hear his sweet moans and feel his fingers leave delicious bruises on your hips.
"Baby if you keep going, I'm gonna come." he breathed into your neck.
"Fine by me" you whispered with a cheeky grin pasted on your face.
You moved your leg farther up his body, your kneecap resting against his ribs. You kept grinding on him, the new angle impossibly more intense than before.
Peeta's groans turned throatier and deeper. His eyes were screwed shut as his beautiful sounds were lost in your neck and your collarbone. He wrapped his arm under your leg and pulled you even tighter on him and started to use his hands to grind you onto him even harder. He was getting desperate now.
"It's so good babe, I can-"
His praise was interrupted by a shaky moan. You could tell he was on the edge.
"Come on Peeta, let go babe." you whispered sinfully into his ear.
You started to bounce slightly on him and you could feel him everywhere. You pressed your lips under the base of his ear, making small breathy moans into his ear.
One last roll of your hips and Peeta was coming undone. His groans echoed the room and he came hard. His biceps caged around your and held you on his warm and glistening chest as he grinded his hips into you to ride out his high.
He was so beautiful when he was like this, and the fact that you were the only one who got to see him in this state turned you on more than you could even begin to describe.
After coming back from the heaven you had sent him to, you leaned down to kiss him softly.
"I can't believe you just made me come in my boxers." he laughed into your lips.
"I'm pretty good huh?"
"I think your a little better than good baby."
You smiled back into his mouth and began to roll off of him. But before you had the chance, he was pulling you back and under him.
"Not so fast babe. Gotta make you feel good too." he murmured into your lips.
Before you knew it, he was hovering over you with his knee between your legs and your heart was racing.
Part 2?
I need a quote for my yearbook, please help!
8-9 words, preferably short words because there isn't much space. No swear words, science gags excepted but can't be inappropriate because the teacher putting the book together is a science teacher.
live laugh lasagna
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