The Serpent And The Jaguar

Stuck with a God | Loki Laufeyson

// Pairing // Loki Laufeyson x Agent!Female!Reader

// Summary // Loki gets imprisoned by Shield and he loves flirting with you. As much as he annoys you, even more does the Shield technology annoy you.

// Wordcount // 2.488

// Warnings // Explicit Content // 18+, Minors DNI, smut, kind of enemies to lovers, being stuck with Loki, bit of dub-con, fingering, squirting, CMNF, finger sucking / cum eating kinda, bit of housewife kink, praises

// Authors Note // This is my first time writing for Loki, so thanks to my amazing friend @jiyascepter for encouraging me to write for him.

// Events // Slumber Party: Sundae Bar | French Vanilla (stranded, looked in) and Black Cherry (Enemies to lovers) | @the-slumberparty | Bingo of your own | N4 | Stuck together | @thebo3bingo |

// Masterlist | Loki Laufeyson //

     “Darlin’! Didn’t think I would see you today,” the black-haired man says, his smirk growing as you walk closer to the cell he is in. “Want to see me again before they bring me into another cell, my dear?”

     You roll your eyes, earning a chuckle from the man. Since they brought him into the cell earlier that day, he flirts with you whenever you’re around. Or at least it’s what you think he is doing; maybe he just tries to convince you to let him out and let him rule the world — something you won’t do unless your boss will force you to.

     “Didn’t miss you; I just have to get something, and then I will be back doing my work,” you answer him, walking further through the room.

     Loki Laufeyson, god of mischief — at least what he said — walks up and down his cell, his green eyes following every little movement.

     “Oh, darling—“

     “Stop that flirting and let me do my job. You’re annoying, and I’m done with you, Loki,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief about that man.

     His lips are still curled up, and his eyes are glistening. As much as he annoys you, he has something that makes your knees weak — mystic and magical.

     “My dear, come here. Look at me when you tell me that you’re done with me. Are you done with me, darlin’, or do you only want everyone to think that?” His voice is low, his head falling forward, and he looks up, looking even more handsome than before.

     “No, don't even think that. You’re not that interesting to me,” you groan, frustrated that you’re stuck in that conversation. Too nice to just ignore him and too annoyed to continue talking to him.

     “Not interesting to you? I’m Loki — god of mischief — from Asgard! Everyone wants me. Oh, that sweet maid in Asgard — you should have seen her, darling. She begged me, but she wasn’t interesting to me,” Loki says, chuckling softly at your expression.

     How can he dare to tell you such an intimate story about one of the maids who is working for them? But to finally let him know that you’re not interested in his idiotic ass, you make your way closer to the entrance of the cell. Loki is grinning at you and walking in his cell to the entrance as well.

     When you reach it, he places his hand against the glass, waiting for you to tell him that you’re not interested in him. His green eyes remind you of a snake, staring into yours and glistening mischievously.

     “I’m not inter— How?” You almost shout at him when he is suddenly in front of you — without glass in between you. “FUCKING SHIT! How do— GO BACK INTO THE CELL!”

     Loki laughs softly, his white teeth visible. His tongue darts out, and he slides it across his plump lips before closing his mouth and leaning a bit further down.

     “Make me, darling. I’m a god; you think that little cell stops me from breaking out? How sweet,” he says in a teasing tone.

     You place your hands immediately on his chest, feeling the muscles tensing underneath your soft touch, before you push him back into the cell. Actually, you learned to not do things like that — never touch a criminal or get too close to him — they could use it to their advantage.

     A loud sound behind you makes you flinch, and you look around. The door behind you shuts, and your eyes widen when you realize that you’re stuck in a cell with the enemy. And not just one enemy; you’re stuck with Loki.

     “Stay away!” You grumble, letting go of him to take a step backwards and look for your card, which opens literally every door in a shield compound. You reach your card, finally able to get out of the cell again — you just need to find out how he managed to open the door and walk out of the cell.

     “Darling, don't you want to give me some company? That hurts my feelings; I thought you changed your mind and wanted to stay in that cell with me,” Loki says, his eyes still following every movement of yours while you walk to the door and press your card against the small display next to it.

     His lips curl up when the door doesn’t open. You try again, pressing the card against the display again. Once again, the door stays closed, and you groan frustrated — why can’t the technology work like it should?

     “Doesn’t work, darling? Do you need my help?” Loki asks, his tone teasing, and you roll your eyes once again. At some point, you’re sure you can roll your eyes all the time, but right now you’re just annoyed about the technology and him being such a dick.

     “I don’t need your help! Can you just shut up for a moment?” You ask through gritted teeth. You turn around, wanting to face the black-haired man, but the cell is empty, and you wonder if he broke out once again.

     You hiss and almost jump when you feel a warm breath against your neck. Long arms wrap around your waist, and a broad but small chest is suddenly pressed against your back. You can feel Loki’s nose sliding over the soft skin of your neck; a low chuckle leaves his lips when he pulls you even closer.

     A shiver runs down your spine; you want to lean more into his embrace. His warmth and scent envelope you. Loki feels just so good that you want more of him and more of his touches.

     “You like that, don’t you, darling?” He asks, his breath hitting your skin and causing goosebumps all over your body. It shouldn’t feel so good; you shouldn’t stay in his embrace; he shouldn’t touch you like that — Loki is still the enemy, but the two of you look now like he isn’t just that; it looks like the two of you are so much closer.

     “L—Loki, let go of me. H—How did you escape here? Wh—“ You interrupt yourself when you feel his long fingers moving over your stomach, higher to your chest.

     “I didn’t escape, but I told you — I’m a god, darling. I never escaped here; you opened the door with your card; you pushed just an imagination of mine into the cell. And now that you’re here with me, stuck in this cell, don’t you think we should just continue where we stopped?” Loki asks, his voice quiet, and he presses his soft lips against your neck.

     You shake your head, even though you don’t feel like that. You just can’t be that close or intimate with the enemy. He grumbles behind you, pressing you even closer against his chest, and you can feel his growing bulge pressing against your ass.

     Your eyes widen, pussy throbbing, but you can’t just give in to him, can you? Loki is thrusting his hips forward, chuckling against you, when a soft moan escapes your lips.

     “You like that?” You nod lightly, his fingers gracing over the fabric of your t-shirt to your chest. Loki moves his hands over the swell of your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, and when you look down, your breath hitches.

     His hands are so big, thin, but long fingers — they cause the most filthy thoughts you ever had. You inhale deeply. A moment later, you think about pushing him away, telling him to stop that, and that there are cameras, but you know that they won’t work when the display to unlock the cell doesn’t work either.

     Loki feels you tensing in his arms; he kneads your soft breasts in his hands, causing you to throw your head back.

     “N—Loki, please,” you whine, feeling his hard cock still pressing against you. He thrusts his hips forward, making you squeal. His hands are squeezing your tits more.

     “Changing your attitude is exactly how I like it. What do you need, darling?” His tone is teasing. You nod your head, now knowing what to say. Loki laughs, suckling at your neck while his hands snake back to your waist. “Tell me, darlin’.”

     “L—Loki, please, n-need you,” you whimper. You feel so pathetic, begging the enemy to touch you, to fuck you. His hands and his lips feel like the softest thing you have ever felt, and you need him to continue touching you. You need to know how talented those fingers are.

     “Look at you, melting in the enemy's embrace, needing his fingers, don’t you?” He mocks you, laughing softly when he picks you up. He carries the two of you to the bench on the other end of the cell, sitting down before he places you in his lap.

     Loki’s hands hold you in place, his hard crotch pressing against your ass, and you wiggle lightly, earning a low groan from the man behind you. His fingers are digging into your sides, pressing you further down on him to keep you still.

     His lips trail along your neck once again, and he then smirks miraculously once again. And suddenly… you’re naked in his lap. Your clothes are nowhere around, and you can feel the leather of his suit underneath your sensitive skin.

     “L—“

     “Come on, spread those pretty legs for your favorite god, darling,” he grumbles, his fingers sliding along the inside of your thighs as he spreads your legs apart.

     Loki reveals your throbbing pussy; his left hand is holding your one leg, and he squeezes your thigh, while his other hand inches closer to where you need him the most.

     His long finger slides through your folds, and you moan softly, throwing your head back against his shoulder. Loki circles your clit, pinching it lightly between his fingers before he moves his long fingers further down to your entrance.

     “So wet, ‘s that all for me, dalin’? Pussy’s drippin’ for me,” he says, kissing his way along your neck to your ear. His fingers coated in your arousal, he slowly pushes one finger into your entrance. You moan loudly, arching your back. Loki’s finger slips deeper into your tight pussy.

    “Doing so well; look at you, sweetheart. Taking my finger like you’re made for that, aren’t you?” Loki praises you, pushing deeper into you while curling his finger. He starts pumping it in and out of you, earning soft moans and whimpers from you.

     Your hands gripping his thighs, the cold leather feeling perfectly underneath your hot skin. And having him completely dressed while you’re naked turns you on beyond belief.

     Lokis circles your clit with his thumb, adding another finger to your cunt. Your breath gets heavier, you rock into his hand, and the coil in your stomach tightens with every moment of his long fingers inside of you.

     The black-haired man hits your sweet spot every time, the pads of his fingers sliding over it, causing an intense feeling to build up in your lower stomach. A feeling you never had before, not when you fucked yourself with a toy and never with another man.

     “Doing so well, darling. Squeezing my fingers so good, can’t wait to fuck you, probably. Yeah, that’s what you like? Being fucked by a god, don’t you, darling?” Loki asks; his eyes darken lightly, but since you’re with your back toward him, you can’t see them.

     “P—Please, so close. LOKI!” You almost shout; you're just about to come all over his fingers. You don’t know how you ended up in that situation, but right now you can’t care about that. Everything you want and need is Loki, his fingers curling inside of you and bringing you closer to the edge.

     The sound of your wet pussy and his fingers pumping into you in a steady rhythm echoes through the cell. He speeds up, loving the way your walls cling around his fingers, sucking his thin, long fingers even deeper. “Come on, sweetheart, come all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

    With that, you do as you’re told, your pussy clenching around his fingers. Loki massages your sweet spot with his digits while you come all over his fingers. Your juices squirt all over his palm and fingers, landing on the ground of the cell.

     “F—Fuck, please, keep going, please, Loki,” you beg, thrusting your hips against his hand while you ride out your orgasm.

     He can’t stop his movements just now; you need him to fuck you through your orgasm — and that’s what he does. Curling his fingers steadily inside of your pulsing cunt, he thrusts slowly into you while you breathe heavily.

     You have been moaning like a whore since he started to fuck you with his finger. But you don’t care; he feels too good to think properly.

     “Didn’t think about it, darlin’. Doing so good for me, gonna keep you and take you with me to Asgard; make you my sweet little wife and fuck you whenever and wherever I want,” he groans, his eyes rolling slightly back when he thinks about that idea. A low moan escapes his pink lips, and he smirks. “You’re already so cock drunk, you can’t even think about it properly. Just say yes, darling.”

     You nod your head, your hips still moving against this hand, while you don’t really notice what he is saying. As long as he keeps his fingers inside of you. “Yes, please.”

     “Whining and begging like a pathetic little housewife, that’s what you are. My sweet little housewife.” He kisses your neck once again, sucking a purple mark into your skin. “All mine, darling, and everyone can see it.”

     Even with your protests, Loki pulls his fingers out of you, holding them up to show you your arousal dripping down his fingers. You blush slightly, watching Loki bring his fingers closer to his face. You turn your head, looking at him while he takes them into his mouth, sucking and licking them clean.

     “Tasting perfect, darling,” he hums more to himself before he moves his hand, and you’re suddenly dressed again.

     Your eyes widen, reality hits you, and you jump off his lap. You immediately miss his warmth, a cold shiver running down your spine while you consider getting back into his lap or staying away from him. This is just a short moment, because as much as you should stay away from him, as much as you crave and need this black-haired man.

     “That’s my girl. Now let’s get out of this cell and make you my pretty little housewife,” he says, smirking at you when your back is pressed against his chest once again. And just as he tells you, he is doing exactly that, making you his wife — and luckily, you’re not the only one addicted to the other one. A god can be just as addicted and craving like a human.

// Taglist // @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @somnorvos @meowmeowyoongles

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.”

A PROFESSIONAL INTERVIEW -- sebastian vettel

part 2/4? previous next

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: i've had a bit of writer's block recently and i'm still in it, so that's why most of my fics and recs may be coming out slower. hopefully ill break out of it soon!

taglist: @viennakarma, @chiliwhore, @i-wish-this-was-me, @sugyomama, @gcldtom, @bladestark (sorry if i missed you)

Qualifying for he Bahrain Grand Prix. You had a few media days and free pratice interviews, Lewis Hamilton seemed to be the driver reporting pairing your employers were looking for, or maybe he was just the driver they had randomly selected. One thing you would admit is that you liked interviewing drivers who were actually winning, it was less depressing, and people actually watched the interviews with winning drivers. All those days had gone well, media day, and free practice, good outfits combined with good interviews and good racing, but qualifying proved a struggle.

You awoke in the morning, groggy, and confused. You had an alarm set for 7:30 am, four hours, enough time to prepare your questions, shower, do some cute makeup, make a healthy breakfast, maybe even work out. You wanted to feel good about yourself, and waking up to be productive seemed like a very adult thing to do, but oh no. Your alarm hadn’t gone out, and you woke up at eleven. You let out an obnoxious scream at the glimpse of your clock, looking down at your blue sweater and white joggers. You swiped on deodorant, and brushed your teeth, you could get food at hospitality, and do your makeup on the bus ride there. You hadn’t planned on taking the bus, but your brain ran through solutions for your tardiness quickly, and taking a fan bus was a solution. You had seen the sign the night before. 

You quickly poured tea from the night before, and poured it into a water bottle. You put bread in the toaster, pulling your hair into two plaits as you bounced around, filled with stress. You poured jam on it, too lazy to even wipe up the jam from the hotel counter. You shoved it into your mouth, nearly forgetting your bag full of everything you needed. You were the worst dressed out of the women, all of whom looked like they had put extensive effort into their looks for the day. You curled your lashes as you looked over the notes, leg bouncing intensely as you skimmed over the question. You would be interviewing the redbull boys, was it something you were happy about? No, of course not, the memory of Sebastian ruining your date and then ending up driving you home still haunted your memory, and only when you looked down at your sweater did you realize something, that was his sweater! You mentally slapped yourself, how could you have been so stupid, you didn’t even know how that had ended up in your suitcase. You briefly recalled using it as a pajama top when the weather got cold, because you had been mainly using Y/B/F’s clothes. How stupid could you have been.

You arrived at the track five minutes late, sprinting full force across the pit line, almost certain you were in the background of at least three “on site” interviews. You nearly ran into Lewis, and the urgency took over you even more.

“Lewis, I need you to hide this!” You exclaimed, shoving the sweater into his arms. A pink tank top and baggy joggers didn’t look bad, but you did feel as if you were on the way to work out.

“Why?” He asked.

“It’s Seb’s, long story. I’ll explain later. Thank you so much!” You thanked the Mclaren driver as he looked down into his hands. He wanted to ask more questions, but you were already sprinting off, your tote bag hitting you in the hip as you ran. You arrived in front of the red bull garage winded, Mark Webber and Sebastian Vettel staring at you. You dumped your tote bag on the ground, and stood across from them, pulling your plait over your shoulders - you thought they looked cuter that way - and smiling at the two. Mark seemed content to act like the situation was normal, offering a small compliment on your minimal makeup, but Seb had to ruin it.

“Did you sprint the whole way here?” He asked, crossing his arms and leaning back.

“I did, my alarm didn’t go off.” You told him. 

“Is that why you’re wearing sweatpants?” “It was either that or having bad breath.” You looked over at the camera crew as they hooked you up to a microphone. “When does this start?”

“A few seconds.” A guy replied. You gave him a thumbs up, and he signaled that they were live.

“Welcome to qualifying for the Bahrain Grand Prix, we are live at the Bahrain International Circuit with the Redbull boys, Mark Webber and Sebastian Vettel.” You introduced, smiling over at Mark and intentionally ignoring Seb. “Now, what are your thoughts going into the new season, any specific goals?”

“Well, we have a new car, so hopefully we continue ranking high, and winning races.” Mark told you, smiling. You nodded and turned back to Sebastian.

“And what about you, Seb? Do you have similar goals to Mark?” You asked, meeting his eyes despite your mind screaming against it. 

“A bit, but this year I’d like to win the World Championship.” He told you confidently. The camera would witness your reaction to his words, a bit surprised at his confidence, and maybe his lack of insults that you had obviously expected. “I was close last year, and I am confident that I can get there this year.”

“And I imagine that will start with gaining pole position for tomorrow’s race?” You said, trying your best to give an attractive smile, the camera was on after all.

“Of course.” He replied, flicking a small glance over at Mark, who looked slightly dejected by Sebastian’s answers. The blonde showing up his teammate once more. You asked a few more basic questions, and a couple that dug a bit deeper, before being notified that your time was almost up.

“Well, Mark, and Seb, I wish you both luck at qualifying, and I will see the two of you tomorrow for post race interviews.” You said, smiling at Mark, and not Sebastian.

“Will you be wearing the dress you wore in France?” Seb asked, and you begged your cheeks not to flush like they always managed to. “You know, black, very tight-”

“I didn’t pack it.” You interrupted.

“A shame, it would’ve given me more motivation to show up.” Seb said, shaking his head lightly. You frowned.

“Does the twenty five thousand euro fee for skipping not motivate you enough?” Mark asked jokingly. You took that as the perfect time to finally close the interview, clapping your hands together unexpectedly loudly.

“Well, that’s it for today’s interview, I will see you, and the Redbull boys after the race on Sky Sports!” You told the camera cheerily. The cameraman gave you a thumbs up, that it was over, and you smiled. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Sebastian open his mouth to say something to you, it was most likely something insulting, and so you turned to Mark"

“Good luck at quali tomorrow, Mark!” You told the dark haired driver before speed walking away, completely forgetting your bag.

Seb watched as you quickly walked off, a frown settling on his face. He understood that you most likely assumed he was going to say something rude, and rather on brand for him, but that wasn’t his plan. He just wanted to ask you if you needed a ride to the race tracks, after all, he had heard that the two of you were staying in the same hotel. He looked down, your bag still laying on the ground. He reached down and picked it up before turning to Mark, the driver you seemed to like so much more than him.

“Y/N left her bag, do you know her next interview?” He asked Mark. The brunette shrugged.

“I think she’s mainly broadcasting this weekend. I’m sure you can find her room number though.” Mark told Seb. The blonde nodded, and began rummaging through the bag. “Not like that! Just ask someone!”

Though Seb did find the room key, and read the room number over in his head, memorizing it quickly.

“She better have grabbed an extra.” He told Mark, holding up the key. 

“Y/N can sometimes be a mess.” Mark told Seb. Seb frowned.

“I mean, she’s very organized, and prepared usually . . . ,” Seb started, realizing what he was saying. Mark couldn’t know Seb’s actual thoughts about you, couldn’t know that he genuinely thought you were an incredibly smart, and rather beautiful woman. That would be a nightmare! As he walked down the pit lane, examining the other cars, Lewis walked up to him. The world champion held a blue sweater, Seb’s blue sweater. His mind ran through all posibilities, maybe you had given it to Lewis, those few interviews you had done together turning into something more.

“Hey, Seb!” Lewis said, smiling kindly.

“Hey, Lewis.” Seb replied back, trying to match the energy of Lewis.

“Is that my sweater?”

“Yeah, Y/N gave it to me this morning, said it was yours.” Lewis told Seb, handing him the sweater. “Since I couldn’t find her, I figured I’d give it to you. I didn’t know the two of you were close.”

“Yeah, well, some things just happen.” Seb said, trying to seem vague enough so that Lewis couldn’t be certain of what he was trying to hint at, but could also sense that Seb did not want Lewis and you dating

Seb waited in the hotel lobby for you that night. He was feeling good about himself. He had gotten pole position in the first race of the season, the Ferraris behind him. His plan on winning the race, and hopefully the championship were looking good. You arrived at the lobby later than Seb expected, he sat silently, and watched you talk to the woman at the front desk. He couldn’t look as if he had taken actual time out of his day to give you back his bag, and his ugly blue sweater.

“I know, I know! I don’t have my wallet. I left it at the race track, come on, do you watch Formula One?” You pleaded, hands placed together as if in prayer. “I can introduce you to Jenson Button, he won the championship last year!”

“I don’t watch Formula One.” The woman deadpanned and your face dropped. Sebastian felt himself standing up and walking over, feeling slightly bad for leaving you to suffer.

“I didn’t know we were both staying in this hotel.” Seb said, even though he did in fact know exactly that, and had asked a few other journalists what hotel you were staying in.

“Seb, hey.” You said, rather unenthusiastically, scratching the back of your neck and looking down at your bag. A smile appeared on your lips, and Seb pumped his fist in his mind. “You have my bag.”

“You left it at our interview.” Seb said, placing his hand on the counter, and then quickly removing it. It looked weird. He quickly reached in the bag and pulled out the sweater. “And Lewis gave me this.”

“Oh.” You said, frowning. “You can have it back.”

“I didn’t think you’d keep it. I thought you’d leave it in France.” Seb said, wringing the soft fabric through his hands. Seb was glad that even though the sweater was ugly, it was still good quality, most things he bought were.

“I live out of a suitcase, and I had planned on going home for winter break, so I actually don’t own any winter clothes.” You explained. It sounded like an excuse, but was probably the truth. He handed back the sweater and the bag.

“You should probably keep it then, can’t have a journalist getting cold at the paddock.” Seb said. You furrowed your brows, but Seb kept on talking. “What floor are you on?”

“Fifteenth.” You replied, beginning to walk away from the counter, he trailed slightly behind you.

“Perfect! I’ll walk you to your room.” He said, not giving much time for you to deny his offer as the two of you entered the elevator.

“Um, okay, what floor are you on?” You asked, looking very suspicious of the formula one driver who stood next to you.

“Twentieth.” Seb replied with a smile. 

“Huh,” Was all you said for the first ten floors, but on number eleven progress was made. “Nice job at quali today, a flying lap.”

“I’m pretty proud of it.” Seb replied with a shrug.

“Do you genuinely think you’re going to win the championship?” You asked. Seb paused before speaking, not wanting to seem overly confident, even if that was how he tended to act.

“I can, I have the skill, I have the car. Now it’s all about luck.” Seb told you. He watched intently, analyzing your reaction while you analyzed his words. Your lips pursed together, and you gave a single nod. Seb couldn’t tell if it was a nod of approval, or you thinking he was delusional. He had to continue speaking, maybe say something awkward or mean that ruins everything, but that’d be better than watching you over analyze his words. “If I end up winning the whole thing, do I get a date?”

Your head snapped up immediately, eyebrows shooting to the top of your head. You spoke slowly,

“If you win the WDC, you want to go on a date with me?”

“Sure, why not?” Seb asked. You looked confused when you exited the elevator, Seb taking a step out as well at the last second.

“Um, okay. If you win the 2010 World Drivers Championship I’ll go on one date with you.” You told him, trying not to laugh. You swiped in your hotel key card, Seb briefly glimpsing a messy hotel room. “See you after the race.”

Seb didn’t get a chance to offer to take you to the race tomorrow before you shut the door quickly. Leaving him standing in the hallway. He didn’t quite know what he had expected, you to invite him in? No way, you would never do that. He supposed he wasn’t used to rejection.

Your alarm thankfully went off early in the morning, you had fallen asleep insanely early, you had ordered takeout, too lazy and busy to go out. After multiple years of working in formula one, you had come to accept that you needed to relax on most days, and most likely wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate the cities you stayed in. You woke up early, doing a quick workout in the hotel gym, showering, and preparing yourself for the race. The hotel offered free breakfast, and so you devoured it quickly. You smiled at the mirror, pleased with your pleated white trousers and blue top. You checked your watch, a prized possesion of yours, the gold watch looked expensive, and it was, but it was a hundred dollars, not a few thousand. You had to leave for the race, you smiled, happy at the start of your day, especially compared to your nightmare start the day before. You slipped on nice shoes, and opened the door, doing a double take immediately.

“Seb! What are you doing in my hotel room doorway?” You asked, lips pursed together as you looked at the Red Bull driver, wearing red bull gear, of course.

“You were late yesterday, do you want to be late today taking the fan bus?” Seb asked, raising an eyebrow. You held up your hands in defense.

“I was going to take a normal bus today.” You stated, rolling your eyes.

“Okay well now you get to drive in an Aston Martin.” Seb said with a confident smile. You shrugged, you would go, but Sebastian Vettel would still be annoying, not much could ever change your opinion on him.

For the Bahrain GP, Sebastian was gifted a dark green Aston Martin. You could appreciate a beautiful car, and decided not to slam the door this time. You held your fancy tote bag in your lap, leaning against the seat and feeling a strong sense of deja vu to the end of winter break. Thankfully, you were comfortable in your outfit, and not planning on regretting your time during the first race of the season.

“Do you like dogs or cats?” Seb asked as you reviewed the words in your notebook.

“What?” You asked, wondering if you had misheard Seb. 

“Are you a dog or cat person?” Seb repeated.

“I think I’m a dog person, but my parents had a lot of cats.” You said, still confused by Seb’s sudden change of attitude over the past few weeks. “What about you?”

“Dogs, I don’t like cats.” He replied, eyes focused on the road.

“Are you allergic?” You asked, always wanting to ask questions.

“No, I just don’t like them.” He replied honestly.

“Oh, cool.” You said. You weren’t as fast speaking, and your brain never worked as quickly as when you were working. Those two versions of yourself were very different, you always assumed it was because you often needed a break from formula one. You could sink into another girl, and then become fast talking and thinking on race weeks. A part of you wondered if the people you met in formula one were surprised when you acted differently, wondering if Seb was one of those. You were still smart, and well spoken, but it was different, you didn’t feel the need to prove yourself to the thousands watching formula one when you were on the way to the Grand Prix.

“I think I’ll get a dog when I retire.” Seb told you.

“Why not now?” You asked. “You can get a dogsitter.”

“Yeah but then I wouldn’t be able to hang out with it, and it wouldn’t think of me as its owner.” Seb said. “And that would be sad.”

“My grandma had a little purse dog that she brought with her whenever she was traveling. She said it was a service dog but it was definitely not.” You told him. Maybe you were bordering the lines or over sharing, but you really weren’t sure of how to act during that situation. You couldn’t just start liking Sebastian Vettel because all of the sudden he decided to be nice to you. The two of you made slight small talk on the drive, and arrived in silence. Fans were waiting when Seb parked his car, only a few, but they were there. You  exited the car, trying to seem slightly invisible to the audience Seb held up his hand to help you up, but you stepped up away from him, and began walking away as fast as you could, while still looking normal. You arrived at the paddock, tapping your key card in and waving to a few photographers that you knew. Little did you know they would catch Sebastian sprinting behind you while you looked onward peacefully.

“You ran away from me!” Seb called out, stopping next to you. He hadn’t broken a sweat at all, stupid formula one drivers.

“Yeah, we have separate places to be!” You shouted back. The photographers are still snapping away at photos.

“Where are you going?” Seb asked, brows furrowed together.

“Mclaren.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You don't need to walk me there!” You exclaimed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t get it, I don’t like you, you’ve been mean to me since I started in formula one, and it’s fucking weird because now you think you can be kinda nice to me. No, you can’t!” 

“I’m just trying to be nicer, okay? I don’t get why you’re so mad about that.” Seb told you.

“I’ll be mad about whatever I want!” You shouted back. You stormed off to the Mclaren garage, and thankfully Seb didn’t follow you, but a teeny tiny part of you wished he had.

You pushed your way through the fellow journalists to take your seat in the second row. Seb, Nico and Jenson sat at the table. Jenson smiled and waved, and you smiled in return, hands too full to wave back. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Seb’s gaze flickering between the two of you. You listened adamantly to the driver's response as to how they had performed. Nico thought he had done a good job pushing to advance, but thought he could have pushed a bit harder. Jenson, the reigning world champion, definitely was expected to achieve more, and Seb, he was mad. He wasn’t showing it very much, but you could tell. Losing three positions might not be terrible if you started out of the points, but from pole? No driver would be happy about that. You were handed the microphone. You weren’t quite sure who you wanted to ask questions to, and you decided on Jenson, a driver you were on speaking terms with, and was nice to you outside of work. Hopefully you wouldn’t ruin that.

“This is for Jenson. Obviously, there is more pressure on you to win a lot of races this year, and rank high on the World Championship. You gained one position this race, and people might argue that last year you could’ve placed higher. Do you think this is the result of driving for Mclaren, is the car better or worse then your car last year? Or is it a driver thing?”

“Obviously it feels different driving for a new car, but I believe I can continue to win and get high results this year.” Jenson that with a smile, you thanked him and passed on the microphone.

“Wait, I have a question for Y/N,” Seb announced. You furrowed your brows and accepted the microphone.

“You can’t wait and ask me later?” You asked, not enjoying being put on the spot in front of millions of watchers. You slightly fixed your posture, and glanced at the camera, and back at Seb.

“I can take you back to the hotel and tell you there.”

“No.” You said straight up. You were planning on treating yourself to a nice dinner, and in that moment was not appreciating seb's actions enough to invite him.

“Well, okay. Then, back to my question, are you going to the Red Bull Gala?”

“I wasn’t invited.” You said with a frown, a small flush creeped up your cheeks. You could never control when you blushed or not, it just happened, and you felt embarrassed, which always made it worse. Why was he doing this? You had stated your opinions earlier and wasn't planning on dealing with this.

“Do you want an invite?” Seb asked. The people watching would certainly see a taken aback journalist, surrounded by other confused journalists flash across the television. You were about to deny the offer, until Nico Rosberg burst out laughing. He pressed his face into his elbows, and Jenson covered his hands with his mouth, holding the laughter in.

“Okay, so . . . ,” You started, not planning on continuing your sentence and handing the microphone over to your fellow journalist. Seb’s eyes fixed on you the whole interview.

next

Avatar The Way of Water spoilers without context:

Rock Paper Scissors

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Request: “I was wondering if you could write an Adrian x Reader with the only one bed trope?”

Thank you @r3tr0sp3ct for the request.

Warnings: None that I know of. (If you see something please let me know!)

A/N: I was so excited about this request when I got it. I love writing for Adrian! If you wanna see something for our boy (as long as it’s not smut) send it my way and if I feel comfortable writing it I’ll eventually get to it!! Hope you guys enjoy! :)

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The Hunger Games movie ending scene was bad, and here’s why

Yes I’ve been thinking about this for years, no I am not done being annoyed.

I’m just going to list things off.

No scars. In the books, Katniss gets caught in the fire from the bombs dumped on the Capitol’s children. The scarring is so extensive that not even Capitol plastic surgery can fix it. She explicitly says that she looks like a half-human mutt. But the movies won’t let her be ugly, so she’s smooth-skinned here.

Katniss is wearing a dress. Throughout the narrative, Katniss only wears a dress when the Capitol is forcing her to, be that at the reaping or during the many photoshoots and interviews. Even her mockingjay wedding dress was originally something she’d been forced to wear by President Snow, and the mockingjay details were added last-minute by Cinna, after Snow gave the order. Whenever Katniss gets to pick her own clothes, even if it’s the options presented to her by the Capitol, she goes for practical trousers, and never a dress.

She’s too young. In the books, it takes over a decade for Katniss to be in a mental place where she wants kids, and adding the age of her oldest child to that, she would be in her late thirties at the youngest in this scene. But god forbid that our heroine is allowed to age.

No leg hair. You might think I’m nitpicking here, but in the first movie, they had a scene when Katniss’ legs get waxed by the beauty team, so the movie writers definitely knew about it. In the books, Katniss explicitly says that she likes her leg hair, because the longer it grows, the longer it’s been since she was under the hands of the Capitol’s beauty standards. But women in movies aren’t allowed to show leg hair, so she’s shaved smooth here.

Losing the nuance. In the book version of this moment, Katniss and Peeta are watching their children play in the meadow. But what Katniss and Peeta know, but their kids don’t, is that the children are playing on a mass grave of those who died when District 12 was bombed. Just presenting it as a perfect golden meadow completely removes the horror from this scene.

Soulbound Ch 4

In The Beginning: (Y/N)'s Version

3rd Person POV:

(Y/N) and Dean are asleep in the motel room, Dean on one bed while (Y/N) is asleep on the other. Sam was supposed to be asleep on the floor, the Winchester boys usually taking turns so (Y/N) could always have the bed. But Sam, tonight, was awake and dressed. He grabs his coat and looks at his brother and surrogate sister before leaving the room. 

Sam walks outside as Ruby pulls up in an old Camaro. He gets in the passenger side and looks at her. "Ready?" She asks him.

"Definitely."

~~~~~~~

1st Person POV:

"It's all your fault!" My mother screamed, kicking me again as I cry out in pain. "It's all because of you."

I try to get to my hands and knees, only for her foot to make contact with my side, rolling me onto my back. She kneels next to me as I try to back away, but her hand grabs my neck, nails digging into the skin. My hands grab her wrist, trying to pry it off with no avail. She sinks her other hand into my chest, squeezing my heart as hard as she can, making me gag and gurgle on my own blood.

"I wish I never had you..."

I gasp and sit up on the bed, an aching feeling in my chest. I pant heavily and let out a yelp, seeing a figure at the foot of my bed. Calming down as I see the familiar trenchcoat. 

"Hello (Y/N). What were you dreaming about?" The gravelly voice of Castiel reaches my ears.

"Don't worry about it." I mumble, looking over to see Dean's bed empty and Sam not on the floor. "Where are the boys?"

The angel ignores my question, "Listen to me. You have to stop it."

"Stop what?"

Castiel doesn't say anything, only putting two fingers to my forehead.

~~~~~~~

"Move it lady, you can't sleep here." I hear a voice say, and feeling a nudge on my shoulder. I jump slightly and open my eyes, a police officer standing over me. 

I nod quietly and sit up as the police officer walks away. I look at the bench I'm sitting on, seeing an advertisement for a lawyer, the phone number has a Sioux Falls area code. I look at the surrounding buildings, recognizing some of them from when Bobby and I would go into town. 

I see Katherine's Diner, where Bobby would take me when my report cards showed good grades at school. The post office was next to it, then the grocery store. But the buildings and the details looked, newer? Less worn with age.

I take my phone out of my pocket and dial Bobby's number but I have no signal. "Fuck..." I mumble, getting up and going into the diner, seeing a newspaper on a rack by the door. 'Continental Airlines Crashes: Killing 28' is the headline. The date reads November 20, 1987. 

My eyes widen in shock, this is three days before the demon kills my family. Two and a half months after I was born. 

"Be careful now, (D/N), ya hear?" I turn around, seeing a waitress talking to a man with (H/C) and (E/C). Is that...my dad? My eyebrows furrow as I decide to follow him out of the diner, keeping a distance. I turn a corner around a laundromat, bumping into someone. "Shit- sorry.." I tail off, seeing Castiel, his hands on my shoulders to steady me. "Castiel? What is this?"

The angel tilts his head slightly, removing his hands, "What does it look like?"

"Is it real?" It barely comes out in a whisper, looking up at him with sad eyes.

"Very."

"S-So angels got their hands on a TARDIS? How did I get here?" I stutter.

"Time is fluid, (Y/N). It's not easy but we can bend it on occasion," Castiel says, looking at the street then back at me.

"Then bend it back! Or tell me what the hell I'm doing here!" My voice raises slightly.

His blue eyes bore into my (E/C) ones, "I told you. You have to stop it."

"Stop what? That demon from possessing my mom?" As soon as I get the question out, a car horn blares loudly, making me turn my head. When I look back at Castiel, I see he's gone. "Oh come on!"

~~~~~~~

After catching up to my dad again, I followed him as he walked home. To the house where my mom and my baby self were. Neither of my biological parents were hunters as far as I'm aware, so I'm sure he didn't notice. Their house was a quaint little two-story building, white with light blue trim around the windows and door, much farther inside town than Bobby's. 

From a distance I can see my parents getting in their car, my dad holding a baby carrier. I take a moment to break into the car belonging to the neighbors four or five houses down while my dad secures the baby carrier in the backseat. I quickly get inside the car and hotwire it like Bobby showed me. I usually didn't have to do this part, Dean usually stole the cars.

I follow them to the diner again, parking on the otherside of the parking lot from them. I watch as they go inside, looking for any sign that my mom is already possessed. I go around to the side of the building as they get seated at a booth. My dad is still carrying baby-me in the carrier.

I watch from the window, honestly feeling like a grade-A creep. I hear the flap of wings that's getting all too familiar. "Can you at least tell me if she's possessed yet?" I don't even look at him, keeping my eyes on my mother.

"No, no she's not." Castiel's gravelly voice speaks up from a couple feet behind me.

"Why am I here to stop this? Demons will just keep coming for me," I finally look back at him.

His stoicism breaks for a second, looking a little guilty. "I can explain more in due time."

"Does Sam and Dean even know where I am? Does my dad?" My eyebrows furrow as I cross my arms over my chest.

"No. Sam is...off. Dean is preoccupied with his own business. As for your father, he's researching more seals."

"Take me back, I don't want to watch my parents die," my voice breaks a little, much to my dismay, but it's almost easy to feel vulnerable with Castiel. Stupid soulbond.

His guilty look deepens, "I can't. I'm sorry. I.." he sighs, "I have to go, watch out." With another flutter of wings, he disappears.

"Watch out? Watch out for what?" I call back, only to be met with silence. A pair of arms wrap around my middle, holding my tightly as I struggle. I grunt as I try to pry the arms off before swinging my elbow back and feeling it collide with the side of someone's head. The arms let go and I turn around. My dad clutches the side of his head, glaring at me. 

"Why're you following us?" He asks angrily.

"Are you crazy?" I retort, making the man swing at me. His hit lands, connecting with my cheekbone. I grunt, he swings again, but this time I grab his arm and swing him into the side of the building. I could feel my cheekbone swell and bruise. I hold my dad against the wall, his front against the brick. 

"You've been trailing us since my house!" He yells, pushing off the wall and grabbing the collar of my shirt. He pins me where he just was, my hands grabbing his wrist.

"I don't know what you're talking about-" I start before he interrupts me.

"Really?" 

I try to pry him off of me, but he only drags me forward then slams me against the brick. The back of my head collides with the wall, making me grit my teeth, my vision darkening around the edges a little. "O-Okay how about we talk about this, are you a hunter?" 

"Hunter? Like camo and a rifle? No, what the hell?" My dad looks at me with crinkled eyebrows. He looks conflicted, almost like there's familiarity behind his eyes. He lets go of my shirt and I slide down the wall as my head pounds. "I better not ever see you again. If you so much as look at my wife or daughter, I'll kill you." He threatens, walking away, presumably back to my mom who's still inside. 

I reach around, clutching the back of my head. Bringing my hand back out in front of me I don't see any blood, that's a good sign. But I would bet money on a minor concussion. "Well, you just injured your daughter ya fuck," I grumble, slowly standing up and regaining my barings. 

~~~~~~~

I down my third cup of gas station coffee, trying to stay awake as I sit in the stolen car in front of my parents house. Partially to keep watch and partially to not fall asleep, which is dangerous with a head injury. 

The lights are off and it's quiet. Not eerily quiet, but it's...safe. It seems like a peaceful neighborhood, ya know, where kids are out playing in the yards with other neighborhood kids. The school bus stop on the corner and moms calling to their kids to not forget their lunches. Family life. The apple pie life as Dean would put it. Something I was screwed out of.

"Do I even want to stop it?" I ask myself quietly. If I did, Bobby wouldn't adopt me. I never would meet Sam and Dean Winchester. I wouldn't know monsters exist. I wouldn't know how to fight, or maybe I would based on how my dad kicked my ass. I did a little digging, learning my dad was in the military. He's only been home for a year. Which tracks with my birth. That explains how he could fight so fluidly.

I sigh to myself, honestly still conflicted on if I should even save them. And it makes me feel like shit. I mean, they're my parents, and it's my job to protect people from monsters. But at the same time, I don't know these people. And I don't want to not have the life I have now. I can't imagine not sitting in a little diner with Sam and Dean every other day. I can't imagine not helping Bobby with research or drinking beers with him and the boys. 

Bobby and I placed the last few bricks down, dusting off our hands. 

"Ready, kid?" He asked fourteen-year-old me.

I nod, a little giddy as I go and grab some lawn chairs and circling them around the newly built firepit. I called and asked Sam and Dean if they'd come over and decided they were gonna come up from their finished case in Louisiana, and they'd be here anytime. Bobby pours ice into a cooler nearby, putting several cases worth of beers in it as well. I knew he was gonna let me have a couple before making me switch to water.

He slams the cooler shut as the rumbling of the Impala pulls up in front of the house. It's sunset, or right about. Bobby asked them to bring a couple pizzas with them too, and not to worry about beer, he obviously had that covered. Bobby and I walk around to the front of the house, seeing Sam holding the pizzas. Sam was eighteen, Dean was twenty-two. It was right before Sam took off for college. 

I smile widely, running up and hugging Dean first, happy to see the two men I would consider my brothers. I let go of Dean and hug Sam from the side so I don't make him drop the pizzas. "It's good to see you boys, where's your dad?" Bobby asks, clapping Dean on the shoulder.

"He, uh, went on another case." Sam said, his voice full of tension. And both boys probably fought with their father to get here.

"Forget John okay? We made something for you guys!" I basically bounce with excitement, pulling Sam by his wrist, Dean and Bobby following. All three of them were smiling, the tension slowly forgotten as we round the corner.

"Ta-da!" I grin, gesturing to the firepit in the middle of the dirt. 

The Winchester boys grin as Bobby lights the fire. We all sit around the flames, drinking beer, eating pizza, and relaxing. A night I will never forget.

Yeah, I can't imagine my life without that.

~~~~~~~

Deciding I needed advice, I went to the best hunter I knew. I drove to the outskirts of town, seeing the all too familiar 'Singer's Salvage Yard' sign as I pull into the dirt driveway. Getting out of the car, it honestly doesn't look like it's changed too much. I walk up the stairs to the porch and knock on the door.

Bobby answers the door after a couple minutes, albeit twenty-two years younger, "what do you want?"

"Hi- uh, Bobby Singer?" I ask.

"Who's asking?" He grumbles.

I fidget nervously, "look, I don't know if you'll believe me, but I need advice, hunter to hunter."

Bobby reluctantly lets me inside, but not before splashing me with holy water. I sigh in irritation, pulling the collar of my shirt aside so he can see my anti-possession tattoo. "Not a demon." For good measure, I walk over to the bookshelf I know he hides a silver knife in. I hold out my arm, using the silver blade to cut just below my elbow as I grit my teeth. "Not a shapeshifter."

Bobby nods in apprehensive acceptance. "alright out with it kid. Why are you here?"

"My name is (Y/N). Like I said, I don't know if you'll believe me. But in about a day and a half, a demon is going to kill my family, and you exorcise it. And you take me in." I huff.

"Yeah you're right I don't believe you. Get the fuck out of my house." Bobby's eyebrows furrow as he gets angry. 

"N-No Bobby it's true! You're aware there's a demon in town aren't you?" I stutter.

"Of course I am! The same bastard killed my wife!" He yelled. Shit. 

His wife died less than two weeks before I was born. Bobby always had a hard time around my birthday, but he never made it a problem, always making sure to celebrate it with me anyway. 

"Bobby I...I know about Karen, you wouldn't tell me until I was a teenager. You told me that when you found me, you had to protect me from the demons, because you had failed to protect Karen from them." My voice almost comes out in a whisper, getting emotional. I gesture to myself, "and obviously you do a damn good job." Bobby stays silent, I can tell he's also a little emotional. 

I walk up to him, holding my hand out for him to shake, "my name is (Y/N) Singer. I'm your daughter."

~~~~~~~

Bobby sits in stunned silence after I explain everything. I told him about the demon, my parents, Sam and Dean. "So the demon, it comes after you tomorrow night?" 

I nod, "I'm not sure why yet." I lie. "I'm assuming that's why I'm here, twenty-two years in the past."

"How'd you get here?" 

"Hitched a ride from an angel." I look over some newspapers on Bobby's desk, several articles on demonic omens.

"Excuse me? An angel?" 

"Yep, angels are real. Blew my mind too." I glance up at him with a chuckle, deciding to leave out the part that I'm bound to one.

"So-uh, what do you need to know kid?" Bobby asks, seemingly still in shock about what's happening.

"I just- I was sent here to prevent my parents from getting killed. But if that happens, you wouldn't adopt me. I wouldn't meet Sam and Dean. I mean, because they died when I was so young I don't know if I want to lose you and the Winchesters." I sigh, taking a seat at Bobby's dining table as he slides a beer my way.

I open it and take a sip, Bobby sits across from me with his own beer, "That's a hell of a conflict, kid. If you were specifically brought here to save them, maybe you should. No one deserves to die that way."

I nod in understanding, looking down at the beer bottle in my hand. "But I won't ever meet you, or the boys."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I'll introduce myself to your folks, be a family friend." He tries to comfort weakly. 

"Better than nothing, I suppose."

~~~~~~~

That night, Bobby let me crash on his couch. I was thankful for a place to sleep that wasn't a stolen car. That night and into the next morning were uneventful, save for Bobby and I prepping to fight a demon. It's all a blur of holy water, salt, and weapons.

Once we were ready we went out to Bobby's car, saying he will scrap the stolen one for me after I'm transported back to my time. We loaded up the car and got in, heading back to my parents' house. 

By the time we were prepared, leaving Bobby's house and got to my parents' house, it was evening. We waited in the car outside their house for about 10 minutes before my mother got home from wherever she was. After she goes inside, we get out of the car. 

Coming up to the front door, we can hear yelling, making Bobby kick the door in. We quickly make our way up the stairs, hearing my dad yelling and my baby-self crying. I bust open my parents' bedroom door, my mother whips her head around to look at us, eyes black. My dad stands on the otherside of her, back against the wall. Baby-me is hysterically crying on the bed, knowing something is wrong. Mom's possessed and pissed. She quickly waves her wrist, sending Bobby flying back into the hallway. 

With another wrist wave I'm pulled towards her, her fist clutching the collar of my shirt, "Well, well, well. I didn't know Singers could time travel, still got that angel wrapped around your finger in the future?" She chuckles. The bedroom door slams, separating me from Bobby.

My hands grip her wrist as I fling my head forward. The top of my forehead collides with my mom's nose, making her let me go. I stumble back as my dad takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around my mother's neck, making her choke. I get my knife out of my pocket as she flicks her wrist again, sending it out of my hands and clattering to the floor. I could hear Bobby trying to break down the door, with little success. 

My mom breaks out of my dad's hold, sending him to the floor. I advance again, but instead she waves her hand again, pushing my parents' dresser. The piece of furniture pins me to the wall, I grunt trying to push it away. My mom picks up my knife with a sadistic grin, while my dad is on the floor, she stabs him in the stomach.

"No!" I scream, trying harder to push the dresser off of me, tears clouding my vision. I don't even know why, I hardly know these people, but he's my dad. My mom stabs him again...again...and again. Blood pools out of my dad's abdomen, his hand gripping the hilt of the blade while the other struggles to push her away in his weakened state.

Bobby finally bursts the door open, splashing holy water on my mother. She screeches at her skin burns, the sound fading out along with the sound of baby-me crying. 

~~~~~~~

I gasp and wake up in the motel bed, looking around frantically. Castiel stands at the foot of the bed as I sit up, holding a hand to my head. He looks sad almost, looking at the tear streaks on my cheeks.

A couple more tears fall as I speak up first, "I-I couldn't stop any of it. She still got possessed."

Castiel moves around the bed to sit in front of me, "Don't be too hard on yourself. You couldn't have stopped it."

"What?"

He reaches up slowly, gently wiping a stray tear off my cheek, "Destiny can't be changed, (Y/N). All roads lead to the same destination." He lets his hand drop back down.

"Then why'd you send me back?" I ask, my eyebrows crinkling.

"For the truth. Now you know why your mother got possessed." The angel looks down at his lap, as if he's ashamed that he put me in this situation.

I look around, seeing the bed next to mine completely undisturbed, meaning Sam never slept in it. I move my gaze to the floor seeing Dean is gone as well. "Where's Sam and Dean?"

"We know what Azazel did to Sam. What we don't know is why- what the endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up." 

"Okay- where's Sam and Dean?" I ask more insistently, not wanting to sound so dismissive but they wouldn't just leave me here like this.

"425 Waterman." Castiel says, "Dean took his car. I can fly you." He stands up, grabbing my jacket off the dining table nearby and handing it to me. I nod signaling that I'm ready. The angel puts his hand on my shoulder, I blink and next thing I know we are at the address.

Castiel turns, looking down at me with serious eyes, "Sam is headed down a dangerous road, (Y/N), and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it. Or we will."

(A/N): So I hope this chapter made sense with (Y/N)'s backstory and stuff. I already know when (Y/N) and Cas's first kiss is gonna be so hopefully I can throw in some cute moments up until then that aren't completely out of character for Castiel. If something doesn't make sense in this part please tell me so I can fix it.

Soulbound Taglist:

@fairy-alix @harryssatellitee

love how casually Leigh did this reveal 😄😄

Leigh: so Jesper is a Grisha.

fans: screaming crying throwing up 😱😱😱🤯🤯🤯

Leigh: ......what? u guys didn't know? oh well 🤷‍♀️

no caption just him

Sweetheart | Kaz Brekker

Summary: Kaz’s reaction to you calling him “sweetheart”

Warnings: Just fluff!! I’m in a big Kaz mood, Freddy fucking Carter has once again grabbed me in a chokehold and I fear I won’t be getting out of it anytime soon. This one has actually been in my drafts for a while, I just never posted it until now. Enjoy <3

Kaz Brekker had many different names that others referred to him as. Dirtyhands. Bastard of the barrel. Demjin... but no one had ever called a sweetheart.

Not how you just had. That was a first, but- he didn’t quite mind it. Though, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a shock to hear.

Endearing names were never used on him. There was never any reason for them to be. He was Kaz Brekker, the boy who did whatever it took to get a job done, and he relished in the fear that that struck in others.

However that didn’t stop you from deeming him a sweetheart. Your sweetheart.

Sure, he may be notorious for many of the wrong kinds of things, and have a list of cruel aliases, but underneath the hard and cold exterior he relied on for his job and survival, Kaz Brekker would always be your sweetheart at the end of the day.

You just never intended to say it out loud. You thought it to yourself in your head countless times, among other endearing pet names, but you didn’t dare breathe them to life. Until now, your brain and mouth had both failed you, and the words came tumbling out before you could stop yourself.

You knew you made a mistake the second you spoke. You wanted to take it back, unsay it... but it was too late. You had said it, and though it was soft and quiet, he had heard you clear as day.

He stood there, at his desk, but unlike how he had been rustling with paperwork before and chatting to you about the next job he had lined up, Kaz was still.

He looked almost frozen, but you could see the cogs in his brain turning at rapid pace, it just didn’t seem like he had figured out anything to say, Kaz remained silent, and so did you.

It went on like that for moments more, just Kaz and yourself, standing in his office in bleak quiet, both of you seemed to be unsure of talking.

However it couldn’t go on like that forever. One of you needed to speak up, and you decided it would be you. After all, this happened because of your slip up.

With a shaky breath, you turned towards Kaz fully, so you could look at him properly. Perhaps you should apologize for causing him any discomfort and pretend it didn’t happen, promise you wouldn’t say it again.

But before you could even utter a sentence, Kaz interrupted you. He held a gloved hand up to silent whatever words you were about to speak, his way of telling you he wanted fo speak first.

You immediately shut your mouth, and nodded at him, your silent way of telling him to go on.

He took a deep breathe. and you prepared yourself for whatever harsh words he was about fo throw your way like daggers.

Maybe he’d threaten you and say if you ever called him that again he’d kill you. There were so many ways he could do it and be able to get away with it. It’d be easy for him to get rid of you himself or have someone else do it for him like Inej-

“Say it again.” He said, snapping you out of your dark thoughts. Your anxious nerves deflated, now it was your turn to be shocked. “What?” you said slowly.

Kaz just looked at you incredulously, motioning one of his gloved hands towards you in a wave like movement, as a means to get you to speak. “I said say it again.” The tone in his voice was serious, but there was a lightness to it.

“S-say what again?” you muttered dumbly. Saints you sounded so stupid. You knew what he was talking about, but you were nervous to say it again, even if he was asking. Which, why was he asking exactly? Did he just want to hear a confirmation of what he thought he might’ve heard so when you say it, he can fire you or worse...

Kaz’s shocked nature from before had vanished completely and was now replaced with... a certain cheekiness you couldn’t quite understand where it came from. He was now fully facing you, leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest as he stared you down from the other side of the room.

“Well,” he tutted. “Go on, let me hear you say it again. I want to make sure I heard you correctly.” Kaz demanded once more, and despite him trying to play his role as the bastard of the barrel, you saw his slightly rosie cheeks.

And that’s when you realized something.

He wasn’t just trying to rial you up and embarrass you over the slip up, nor did he seem angry.

No, he wanted to hear you say it again because... he liked it. By Saints, he liked it!

You smiled to yourself in your head about that, before you straightened your shoulders and tried your best to look confident. Then, you strolled up to where Kaz was sitting on the edge of his desk, and you stood just close enough that you were almost between his legs.

You smiled softly at him as you leaned closer, but careful not to touch him. Your face and his were only a couple inches a way, his warm breathe ticked your ear. Signing softly you look into his eyes with your doe like ones and much louder and more meaningful this time, you hummed the petname.

“You like it when I say that, don’t you, sweetheart.”

Since the proximity between you two was so close, you could see every detail of his reaction much better now. The way his eyes dilated slightly, the pink in his cheeks grew slightly, the corners of his lips upturned for a split second.

Yeah, it was safe to say he liked being called a sweetheart. Just as long as it was you who said it.