Looking

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

A one minute clip that means everything to me at this moment.

Master of Puppets

Summary : You meet someone who caught your attention the first time, and he was all you desired.

But what happens when that desire is taken for granted?

Pairings: Shuntaro Chishiya x Fem!reader

Chapter 1:

Running across the apartment complex sure was a workout. The loud screams of the people getting massacred was enough to give you that adrenaline rush that you needed. Even if you feel your limbs go numb you would not dare give up so quickly. Not sure where to run off to, you let your body naturally guide you to the top of the complex. As you reached the top, you see a figure at the very corner. It was that mysterious guy you saw at the entrance of the complex. His white hoodie stood out to you along with this his light hair peaking out of his hood. Instead of heading to his direction, you felt frozen in place. Your body would not move and all you could do was look at him. He locked eyes with you, startling you in your place. Like a deer in the headlights, good job Y/N.  Feeling your heart aggressively palpitating against your chest you couldn’t help but turn around and run. Why did you run away? He’s obviously not the tagger are you stupid? You don’t know why, but those few seconds of eye contact with him gave you an unexplained feeling. Your heart was beating more than it should and you feel your cheeks flushed. What the hell was that?

The round finished quicker than you expected as a few people found the safe room. Leaving the apartment complex you were glad that it was finally over. Your body was in need of a deep rest after all that fiasco. Deep in your thoughts you failed to realize the figure standing in front of you, and you feel your body hit against an object.

“Oh, Sorry I-” you look up and see the same guy with the white hoodie. Your mouth stopped and it was as if your brain just lost all function. He looks at you curiously, wondering how you were going to finish your sentence, but nothing was coming out.

“Be careful next time.” Was all he said as he walked away.

And this was the first time you have met him.

****

The Beach was definitely not something you expected. Literally, you thought it was an actual beach, not a resort with people partying all the time. You had to admit, it was nice seeing everyone enjoying their time. It lets them know that even though it might be their last time here,  they should enjoy their days to the fullest. 

Walking around the bar you saw people dancing like there’s no tomorrow, people drunk off their asses and makeout sessions happening left and right. Seeing the people around you having fun made you want to get that same satisfaction. You grabbed a bottle of liquor from the counter and started to drink. The burning sensation immediately hit your throat. Taking few extra sips you walked to the dance floor and started to dance. You weren’t the best dancer but who cares? It’s not like anybody here is going to judge you based on how well you could dance. Several minutes go by and you feel the effects of the alcohol hitting you. Instead of continuing to dance you make your way to the pool lounge and jump right into the pool and screamed right before you hit the water. Laughter escaped your lips, particularly for no reason at all. You were definitely tipsy at this point. Swimming around the pool felt therapeutic, it was as if the water was giving you one giant hug that you didn’t want to get out of. Looking up, you see people laying down on their lounge chairs talking amongst each other. Observing everyone in the room, your eyes lock in to a particular person. One that seemed oddly familiar to you. He was leaning against the fence just looking at you, amused. Where have I seen him? Several seconds of eye contact go by and you remember. The guy from the five of spades game. You feel your heart do a somersault, your cheeks flaring up and limbs go numb. The alcohol really is hitting me harder this time then ever before. Breaking the eye contact, you swim to the other side of the pool to get off. When you look back, he was no longer there. Was I hallucinating? I had to be. 

When you made it to your room one big jump to your bed was all it took for you to completely knock out.

And maybe, that was the second time that you have seen him. 

****

The game was inside an abandoned cafe. A bell chimes when you open the door, grabbing the attention of the man and a woman already inside. In front of you was a table with two phones. Being the third one there, you picked it up to register for the game. Taking a closer look around the inside of the cafe, you noticed the old artworks plastered around the room. Despire the state of condition they are in, you couldn’t help but enjoy some of the work. One in particular that you enjoyed was the skeletal drawing of the face of a deer in black and white. You make your way closer to the painting, studying it. 

The bell chimes indicating that the last person has joined the game. You didn’t immediately turn around to see who it was, for whatever reason the artwork was very captivating to you. As the game was about to begin you turn around and see the same man once again. At this point you weren’t sure if its just a coincidence or if you’re going absolutely crazy. He didn’t notice you at first either. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. Something in him told him he was being watched and as he looked up his eyes met yours. You quickly averted your eyes to one of the paintings against the wall. 

The game screen chimes, indicating that the game is about to begin. There are 4 participants and the difficulty is a three of hearts. Great. The game is called Spyfall. The rule for the game is to figure out who is the spy. The game ends when the spy is captured. 

Each person is seated at one of the large tables in the back of the cafe. There is one card faced down in each seat. There is a large distance among the person sitting in front of you and adjacent, to prevent any cheating. 

You pick up the card, hoping that you are not the spy. Looking at your card you see that the location is an Amusement park. You try not make it obvious that you aren’t spy, holding in the huge relief that has been carrying on you. If anything, this game specifically is more difficult for the spy because there is less people in the game.  Now, since you are obviously not the spy and the there is 4 participants total, meaning that there is at least a 33% chance that one of the other players is the spy. Attentiveness is important in this game, so the responses of the questions being asked are clues to what the role of the player could be. 

As everyone was asking each other questions and answering them, it was starting to get a bit difficult to figure out who the spy is. If anything, it seems as if they all are answering the questions unsuspiciously. The time was ticking and it was getting harder to think of other questions. 

“You seem a little nervous there aren’t you?” said the woman to you.

“What?”

“Well you keep fidgeting with your fingers and looking down, seems pretty suspicious of you. I mean, why would you be so nervous?”

You weren’t sure how to even respond to that. I mean you obviously know you aren’t the spy you have the card to prove it, but you can’t reveal that as it will give away the answer to the real spy, which is game over for you.

“Cat got your tongue?” she mocked. 

“I’m just taken aback with what you said, I mean what’s your proof?”

“You didn’t even answer my question. Why are you nervous?”

“I just naturally am. Is that a problem? I mean im not the spy.” At this point she was annoying the hell out of you and you wanted nothing more then to shut her up.

“Yeah that’s something the spy would say.” she rolled her eyes. “My vote is for her. She’s the spy i know it.”

You were in disbelief. It honestly didn’t even matter if you’re the actual spy or not in this game because if you are voted against then it’s game over for you. The game does not end until the real spy is captured or if the spy is the last one standing. 

You looked around to see what the other two men thought. The older man was silent, while the guy in the white hoodie had a smirk on his face, looking pretty amused at the cat fight that seems to have occurred.

“Well, I mean she is right. Your responses were one-worded and you were mostly quiet throughout the entire game. Everyone else here seemed to have talked more than you.” said the older man.

“See, it’s obvious.” barked the woman. 

“Im not the spy! How many times do I have to fucking tell you, and even if i do try to explain myself you’re just gonna dismiss my response as a lie.” you yelled. “Ask me more questions then and i will gladly answer whatever you guys throw at me.

The woman gave you a dirty look and the older man looked as if he was thinking of another question to ask you very specifically.

“Ok then, is this place somewhere you would enjoy being at?” asked the older man.

“Absolutely not,” you responded.

He looked at you confused.. “Oh, and why is that?”

“Because I will get sick.” and with that the older man seems to understand.

It gets quiet for a while until another voice begins to speak, “This game could’ve easily ended a while ago.” 

“See, everyone believes me!” said the woman. 

“Just because someone isn’t responding the way you want them to does not mean that they are the spy. Their responses were very straight forward.” explained the younger man.

The woman is startled, not knowing how to respond to that.

“And based on how you were responding specifically, you were too talkative. You kept trying to explain things when there was no need. It was starting to get annoying. At one point you slipped up on your answer and you didn’t even realize.” he chuckles. “Then you suddenly accuse her of being the spy. Seems like desperation isn’t it?”

You could see the woman’s face getting red, both of anger and embarrassment.

“You were getting desperate that you could not figure out what the exact location is, and in order to save yourself you thought diverting the attention to her would make you appear less suspicious, when in fact it only made you do the opposite.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was this guy really defending you? You are absolutely grateful for that but it was something you did not expect to come out of his mouth.

The older man seems to agree with what the younger man said as he nods in agreement. “Well I guess that concludes the game.” 

You all voted for the woman, and when she reveal her card she was in fact the spy. “I hate you all” was all she said before the laser immediately kills her. You look at the younger man who was now facing you. Feeling your tongue tied you had difficulty thanking the man that defended you, “T-t-thanks.” you said to him.

He gives you a smirk, “I wasn’t really trying to help you if that’s what you were thinking.”

“N-no not at all.” you look down, unsure on what else to say. He gets up to leave the building but you call him out before he could open the door. 

“Wait!” you yelled. He looks back at you, locking eyes with you with that same old smirk.

“What’s your name”

“Chishiya.” He turns around and walks out.

And this was the third time you have seen Chishiya, where it all began.  

Peter Hayes x Reader || Drabble

*Yep, more Peter! I love him a lot and I just got a burst of inspiration for douche-boy.

Plot: You have a complicated relationship with your roommate from hell, Peter, who you most definitely hate. This is a sort of throw back to an old multichapter story I made for Divergent- there was this whole Enemies to Lovers thing with reader and Peter that was deliciously slow burning and I'm still kinda in love with it even though its so terribly written XD So I wanted to write something a little better for it.

Warnings: Love/Hate relationship, and you have a bullet wound. Unedited as of now...

When you, Tris, Four, Marcus and The Bastard got to Amity, since you and Peter (The Bastard) were badly injured what with his busted arm and your shot hip, you were allocated a room together, in the Hospital bay.

It was the worst thing ever to happen to you.

All day every day, you two argued. Sometimes it got physical, being Dauntless and having gotten used to sparring- him grabbing you with one arm and throwing you against a wall one time when you were hobbling to the bathroom and said something snotty to him, and you bending his fingers painfully back another, when he came over and patronised you. You slept in beds opposite each other in the little room, only a metre or two between your feet, which meant you were in each others faces throughout bed rest.

It was h e l l.

And you tell him so- "This is hell, Hayes."

"Back atcha, pansycake."

You flash him your best greasy, at that, from where you sit with your legs spread out straight in front of you upon your bed; Bored out of your mind as you're still in bedrest. "You are so hateable."

At that, he just flashes you a finger gun without looking up from the book he's flicking through. Huffing, your cross your arms. For a few moments you try to stay silent, and think about something else... but god you're just so bored. "- Why are you even here? You aren't on bed rest anymore. You can leave, you know."

He hums, turning another page. "I like to bother you, its one of my very few entertainments in this place."

Immaturely stick your tongue out at him. Then you calm down, pursing your lips and tilting your head in curiosity. "So... what're you reading?"

Peter rubs his face, and shrugs. "Ahh, its about- "

"Y/N? How are you going?- " Tris suddenly comes in, looking morose as ever and only looking at you; Ignoring Peter's existence.

"OH TRIS! Hi!~ I'm good, great, wonderful, how are you??" You immediately smile, acting like you weren't just about to engage in a domestic moment with your most hated rival. You'd rather die then let her know that happens... often... Peter looks bemusedly at you, before shaking his head and turning to Tris himself- just as happy for the entertainment.

"I'm... good... " She responds, looking at you weird. She glances Peter's way, and scowls. A scowl she can only ever muster the magnitude for, for Peter. "Has he been bothering you?"

"Not anymore than usual. But lets not talk about him- come here! Sit, talk, tell me what's happening outside of prison."

Tris chuckles, shaking her head and sitting down gently. "This isn't prison, Y/N, they're healing you."

"Yeah, but I'm stuck here with him."

At that, Peter perks up. "- Can I say something?"

You and Tris both say 'No', before turning away from him again. Tris sighs, and Peter raises his palms up like he's some victimized pup, behind her. "... I guess I'm just wondering how long it'll be until we get to leave. I don't know how much more of this I can take... "

Snorting good naturedly, your pat her hand. "I figure Amity wasn't one of your factions."

She smirks, and shakes her head, silently.

Frowning, you look down at your hip. You don't think you can travel with it like it is just yet... But you take a deep breath anyway, about to say you're ready to go whenever she is because you're a good friend damnit, but an unwanted voice speaks up, first.

"- You talkin' about the pansycake's hip, Stiff?" Tris and you both turn to him with another glare, her from hatred and annoyance, and you from confusion and annoyance. What is he doing? "Yeah that's still totally fucken stuffed. We're not going anywhere for at least another couple weeks."

WHY!? Your eyes widen, and you look back to Tris who's looking at curiously, worry etched in her eyes as she searches you, for the truth. She certainly isn't going to take Peter's word, and you're so thankful for that. "Is that true? you said you were getting better."

"I am." The words come out firmly, flashing Peter a Shut up kind of stormy look. He narrows his eyes, back at you.

Then he shrugs, casual. "Just ask the doc. Y/N still needs help taking a shit."

Your face goes up in flame, at that. "I do not!" You exclaim in a high voice, then turn back to Tris; Shame written all over your face. "He just helped me to the bathroom a couple of times and it got to his egomaniacal little head. Please believe me, I'll be fine if you want to go! If you really aren't happy here, I'm ready to- "

Tris just looks increasingly confused as you try to assure her. "He helped you?- "

"She needs a lot of it. Actually they're pretty much a dependent."

"Peter!" You exclaim, just needing him to shut the hell up! Like, that's all you want. Why is he doing this? What's his stake!?? Looking around, you search for something. Something to throw, something to throw, something to throw...

Meanwhile Tris looks quite alarmed, as she gets up from your bed. Reaching for her, you try to make her come back, but she steps back. "... I think I'll talk to the healer."

"Yeah, Stiff, you do that." Peter nods, looking back to his book like he never did anything. Tris turns, and you're just thinking about how bizarre it is that Tris is following Peter's advice on something; Dumbfounded.

She leaves the room and you're just watching her with dropped jaw... before gathering your senses and turning to glare daggers at your roommate from hell.

At first he ignores you, but you persevere, darkening your glare and strengthening it, and making it an supreme glare, until finally he looks up; Brows raised up his forehead towards his brown hair, like, what?

WHAT!?

"Something you want from me Y/N?"

"Something I want from you!?- YEAH. I want to know why you decided to lose your ever loving mind for too many moments there, and look out for my health of all things!?- "

The evil boy with the innocent face, shrugs. Quietly, he responds with; "Someone has to."

For a moment you have no idea how to even respond, to that. But, forcing a dry laugh, because you're shocked, you shake your head. "Yeah! But not you... "

You continue to stare, full of shock, at Peter. Waiting an answer, but this time he doesn't respond.

~

Its not until late that night that you speak again; Until you gather the courage to go and do what you've been doing every night since basically you moved into this hell-place. Because suddenly it's odd... weird.

It should have been those things the whole time, but it is only now, for some reason. The only thing that's clear to you is that that reason is not the one it should be.

Taking a deep breath in, you slip out of bed. As soon as your feet touch the floor, a strike of pain flashes through your body coming from your hip and you wince- but gather your crutches anyway and continue on.

You cross the room, which is quite a familiar journey at this point, quite carefully; Basically sliding across the smooth hardwood in your socks, to keep from changing the amount of pressure on your hip too much, too often.

You get to Peter's bed in a minute or so, and cross your arms over your stomach after leaning your crutches against the wall. Worrying your bottom lip, you wonder whether you should even do this tonight. Whether the whole thing is just fucking up your feelings about each other too much and soon you wont be able to remember that you hate each other... or why you should hate each other.

Because you do, indeed, hate him. Of course you do. He's an ass and he's crass and he's rude- all of which he is on-purpose, for some reason.

You have to hate him... don't you? That's why you want to throw things at him, and glare in his face, and spit venom-words him way.

The only thing you don't know, is why you sleep with him in his bed every night. Why you need to, or you cant sleep at all. Or why he likes to be like that with you.

Sighing, the idea of slipping in and falling asleep too good to pass up now that you're close, you drop your arms and pat his arm. "Up, Peter. Coming in." You whisper, and see him roll over to face your way, making room for your body to curl into his own.

Its a bit of a struggle to get in, but he helps you but pulling your body from the edge, into him. Then, as you're sighing against his chest and closing your eyes, relaxing, Peter hikes your leg (The one on your injured side), up over his hips- as its better for your injury, to be elevated during sleep.

Getting comfortable now, you wrap your arms up around his neck, as his arms go around your waist; Its all muscle memory now, going to bed with him.

And this is how you sleep. Together.

Every night.

No words are spoken except your knee is digging into me's, or maybe a half-hearted i hate you, as you fall asleep safe, in a much-too intimate position for most hated rivals to enjoy. And then, before you wake up a little early, the both of you say goodmorning, bane of my existence, and you sneak back to your own bed before anyone comes in to check on the two of you- because no one in the world, can know about this. For obvious reasons.

Which is the only agreed upon term you've come up with together concerning your should-be illegal cuddling activity.

Tonight is slightly different, though, as you open your eyes again. You cant help but think about what he said earlier, about taking care of you. Should you ask...?

Looking up at him, you wonder if you really should, but he opens his own eyes under your gaze and you immediately look down again; Pretending in vain to be asleep.

Damn it!

"Y/N... " Peter mutters, shifting against you.

"Oh," You say back, awkwardly. "We're... talking, now, are we? We're doing that?"

"Nah," He chuckles, before adding; "I am."

Oh.

"I just feel like I kinda gotta tell you something." Here it comes, you think, dread and... something else, filling your chest. Something unfamiliar, not to you in general but... having it be connected to Peter. THAT's unfamiliar. "While you're all tired and quiet, and only minorly annoying."

At that, you pull back and open your mouth to retort something, as you're quite outraged, but he just smirks at you; And its so soft, it stops you in your tracks. You promptly close your mouth again, looking at him and paying attention.

"You're still a huge pain in my ass, but whether you like it or not I'm going to keep you safe in all this bullshit." His face goes serious. That dark, cruel look he gets when he's about to do something horrid on his face- and you know he's got something up his evil sleeve. "I promise."

"How am I supposed to trust you... ?"

"I'm not asking you to trust me. Just telling you how it is, okay?"

You feel dread fill your chest, but also... warmth. Because if anyone's going to be looking out for you, you're oddly glad its Peter. He's a familiar evil, at least, in a war full of unknown before you. You feel like you wont ever be surprised, by him. Because you expect the worst. And he knows you well- After all; He is your roommate from hell.

- And also, maybe, you've really enjoyed your cuddles with him- more then you're ready to let on.

You find yourself nodding, back at him. "I'll keep you safe, too."

... At which he scoffs, rolling his eyes and tucking you back against his chest. "Yeah, right."

You punch him in the gut- gently, though. Just enough for him to know you hate him.

This was so cute omg!!!!

The 5 Times You Flirted With Bob + The 1 Time He Picked Up on It

Summary: You've fallen for your friend and have decided to drop some hints that you're flirting. Unfortunately, Bob doesn't realize that immediately.

Warnings: Language, no y/n, female reader, reader has a callsign (Honey)

Thank you to @dissonannce for this amazing idea. Thank you @acewritesfics for the dividers!

"Your hands are so big."

It took Bob a moment to register that you were in fact, talking to him.

"Oh! Um yeah. My ma made me do piano because she felt I was given the hands for them," Bob wiggled his fingers for extra effect, "Y'know, since they're so long."

Yes, they were quite long. It was one of the first things you noticed about Bob. Well, after you noticed his beautiful blue eyes, his endearing lopsided smile, the way he was so considerate of everyone else, so gentle, and yet there was an underlying confidence about him. He was sure of himself, but he didn't feel the need to brag.

Who could blame you for falling head over heels for him?

You flashed him a smile, hand reaching towards his.

"It's just, your hand is so much bigger than mine. See?" You propped his arm up, allowing your palm to press against his, both your fingers spread out to showcase the difference in size.

"See? My hand is so small compared to yours," You giggled. Bob looked down at your hands. Your breath hitched, your fingers twitching, dying to entwine with his.

"Yeah, there is quite a difference in size," Bob said, giving you that small smile you adored so much. That smile gave you the confidence to entwine your fingers with his.

"I think they fit pretty well together, see?" He wasn't letting go. He was still smiling as he looked down at your hand holding his.

Maybe this was finally it, he'd finally realized that you liked him and would-

"I'm gonna go get some more peanuts, can I get ya anything?"

You mustered up a smile, trying to cover up your disappointment, "I'll take a water. Thanks Robby."

As soon as he left, you shot Jake a dirty look, "Seresin, you said that shit would work!"

Jake, who had been pretending to play a game of pool with Bradley, Javy, and Mickey, put his hands up in defense, "Because it usually does! Everyone knows when a girl compares hand sizes it means she wants you!"

"Everyone but Bob apparently," Javy muttered.

"Maybe you just need to be more obvious?" Mickey suggested.

You sighed. You knew Bob. The last thing you wanted was to be so blunt it would overwhelm him. But at the same time, you two had been doing this whole 'friends but also more than that and I'm pretty sure we're flirting?' for the last month and you were getting annoyed with it how seemed to be going nowhere.

Perhaps Mickey was right. You were going to have to be a bit more obvious.

"Bee? You ready?" Bob called out from your living room. Bob's nickname of your callsign (Honey) always brought a smile to your face, as well as heat to your cheeks.

"Almost! Can I get your thoughts on this top?" You asked as you walked in.

"Yeah, I'm sure you look-oh." Bob's eyes widened as he took in the green top you were wearing.

It was tighter than the shirts you normally wore, highlighting your breasts. The fabric stopped right at the end of your rib cage, showing off your stomach and bringing attention to your high waisted jeans, which according to Jake "did wonders for your ass".

"What do you think?" You clasped your hands together, the action causing your breasts to stick out even further.

"Um the uh, the color is really great on you. B-brings out your eyes," Bob said, his eyes looking everywhere except you.

With the way his cheeks were bright red, it gave you confidence to step forward, your body now inches away from his, "I was hoping it would bring out something else besides my eyes Robby."

"I mean you you look great in everything you wear! So mission accomplished," Bob said quickly, his hands fidgeting with his car keys.

"Anything else you want to say about the outfit Robby? I really value your opinion." You stood on the tips of your toes, bringing your chest closer to Bob's face.

It was the first time since you walked in that his eyes landed on your chest. He cleared his throat, as if he was gathering up the courage to say it.

"You should grab a jacket, it's supposed to go down to the low sixties tonight," He said, turning around to head out the door.

God damn it.

You grabbed your phone, quickly texting the group.

Honey: We need to go to Plan C.

Rooster: Plan C?! You're saying the top didn't work?

Bagman: Dude, your tits were like out.

Rooster: Maybe they weren't out enough?

Coyote: If they were out any more, Honey would be getting a public indecency charge.

Phoenix: Maybe we shouldn't use clothes to express our feelings? Just a thought 🤦🏽

Fanboy: Yeah Nat, that's plan C.

Payback: Can we not blow up the group chat tonight? The finale of Insecure is on.

Your right leg bounced up and down in nervous anticipation, your eyes never leaving the entrance to the Hard Deck.

"You don't think this is too much, is it?" You asked your friends/coworkers.

"Nah, it'll be perfect!" Mickey reassured you.

"You and Bob are going to walk out of here holding hands by the end of the night, guarantee it," Jake commented as he lined up the balls for a round of pool.

It took all your strength not to jump out of your seat when you saw Bob walk in. His iridescent blue eyes scanned the room, landing on you. He always seemed to search for you, which had to be a sign that he wanted more, that he felt the same way as you did.

You greeted him with a smile, patting the empty seat next to him.

"Hey Robby! I got something for you!" You called out.

Bob just smiled as he sat down, "I see you got my signature: water and peanuts. Thanks Bee!"

You giggled, shaking your head, "Yes, but that's not just it. These are for you!"

Bob stared at the bouquet of flowers you were holding out for him.

"For me? These are for me?" He asked, eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes! I was just thinking, like why is giving guys flowers not a thing? Because it totally should be! And no one deserves these flowers more than you Robby," You explained, a hopeful smile adorning your face.

Bob gently took the bouquet, admiring each flower.

"I thought they would go well with your eyes-that's why a most of them are yellow," you explained, trying to hide how nervous you were.

"These are perfect," Bob said before leaning down to smell the flowers.

"Really? Each flower has a different meaning," you began, hoping that by fidgeting with your hands, you'd be able to conceal your nerves.

Bob simply smiled, his face the epitome of saccharine, "Oh, I already know."

Your breath hitched, "You do?"

Bob nodded, "Oh yeah! Alstroemerias symbolize support, sunflowers are for loyalty, and violets stand for intuition!"

He wasn't wrong. You couldn't tell if you were upset by that or the fact that Mickey forgot flowers can have more than one meaning.

Time for Plan D.

"Hey Robby! You ready to watch hot people make poor decisions?"

"Ready as I'll ever-that's new," Bob said softly, taking in the new loungewear you had on for your biweekly Love Island watch.

"Oh this? I think I got it last week," you said as you let Bob into your apartment, "It's super comfy and it has pockets!"

It also was cut low, showing off your cleavage, as well as the tops of your thigh.

"Yeah, the uh, color looks really good on you Bee," Bob commented. The compliment brought a smile to your face. He noticed you, noticed you were wearing something new, and seemed to be noticing your now exposed skin.

"Well, let's go see if these folks gain any common sense," you grabbed his hand, practically beaming at how your hand fit perfectly in his.

"Somehow I doubt it," Bob chuckled.

When he offered to hold the popcorn for while you two watched, you weren't disappointed. Sure, it meant you weren't able to hold his hand. But it did mean you could move closer to him, your thighs practically touching.

"I really hope he doesn't take her back," Bob muttered, his eyes glued to the screen.

"He will. They always do," you sighed, gently moving your head so it rested against one of his broad shoulders.

If your action had any effect on Bob, he didn't show it. Which was the problem.

"I would pick you in the recoupling," You revealed, hoping that would be enough, would finally be enough.

Bob smiled, placing a hand on your knee, "That's kind of you Bee. But I think friendship couples go against the nature of the show."

It took everything in you not to scream.

The rest of the night was just a typical Love Island watch night, no touching, no initiating, no declarations of love, and ending with Bob giving you a friendly hug goodbye.

With a sigh, you flopped onto your bed to check your messages.

Bagman: Bee, please tell us it worked and you're marking sweet love to baby on board

Phoenix: you're disgusting Seresin.

Rooster: why would they stop fucking just to text you Bagman?

Bagman: so we can pop some champagne to celebrate

Fanboy: Why the fuck is would we do that?

Coyote: It's a big event! Bee told Bob how she feels AND Bob's getting laid!

Payback: Can I just get one night of peace? Just one night?

You: No one's doing anything bc it didn't work!

Rooster: Not trying to be rude, but weren't you like almost naked?

Bagman: Like 52% nude.

Phoenix: JFC, we're going to plan E folks.

Coyote: Is that when we just lock them in a closet?

Bagman: No that's plan G

"Hey Bee!"

The cheerful, charming voice always brought a smile to your face.

"Hi Robby!" You greeted him with a hug, the comforting scent of rosemary filling your nostrils, "You smell really nice."

"Oh um thanks," A hand flew to the back of Bob's neck, a nervous (and also adorable) habit, "Wanted to smell nice after doing all those pushups out in the sun."

"Well it worked, you smell great," One of your hands reached up to the nape of his neck, toying with the hair that had curled at the end, "Look great too."

The tops of Bob's cheeks were now a dusty pink, "It's just a white Tshirt."

You took a step forward, placing your hands on his chest, "It's a good look Robby. Shows off your muscles. I like it on you.

Bob's lips parted, then promptly closed.

"Uh, t-thanks Bee." He had to know now that you were flirting with him. It was clear as day.

Feeling confident, your hands trailed down to his, grasping them, "We should dance!"

You didn't wait for Bob to answer, dragging him out to the middle of the floor. The sounds of Bradley covering Frankie Valli (begrudgingly, as apparently Jerry Lee Lewis was better) filled the bar.

After a few minutes, Bob's shoulders visibly relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. You threw your head back laughing as he bust out a goofy dance move.

Everyone thought Bob was shy, but that wasn't the case. He was observant, determined to get a good read on someone so he knew how to approach the situation accordingly. Once he was comfortable, his personality shined and he was a sweet, goofy man who you adored with all your heart.

The grin you had was so wide, your cheeks were beginning to hurt. But you couldn't stop, not when he was twirling you around.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" You asked, having to say it into his ear so he could hear your voice above the music.

Bob shrugged, "I come from a big family. When you know you're going to a lot of weddings, knowing how to dance helps. That and my mom made me do cotillion."

"Well, all that practice paid off. You're a great dance partner Robby." You rested your chin against his broad chest, looking up to meet eyes bluer than the ocean.

In that moment, all you could do was focus on him. The way the corner of his eyes creased when he truly smiled, his comforting scent, his pink, thin lips that you were dying to feel on yours.

You wondered if he could hear your heart pounding, if he could feel it since your body was practically on his.

His hands found their way to your arms, gently placing themselves on your biceps. Was this it? It had to be.

So you stood on the tips of your toes, your lips now closer to his. Your eyes began to close as you leaned in to-

"I gotta go. Jake stuck his foot in his mouth again."

This wasn't a lie. But it still didn't dull your disappointment. Nor did it sedate your growing frustration at this whole situation.

Perhaps you didn't need Plan G or H Perhaps it was time to go with your original plan.

The next time you saw Bob was when Nat threw a small get together to celebrate the end of a long week.

He was wearing that damn white Tshirt again. Whenever he brought his cup of water to his mouth, the fabric stretched across his bicep.

Was he doing this on purpose? Did he know? Consciously or not, that you had fallen for him ever since you two first met at training?

Either way, you were tired of this game you had been playing for the past month.

"Are you sure about this?" Natasha asked.

You simply nodded before taking a shot of vodka. A little liquid courage was always nice.

"Nat, he's oblivious. Honestly, I don't know why we didn't do this the first time," Jake commented as he took the shot glass out of your hand.

"Because we didn't expect him to be that oblivious," Mickey countered.

"Well everyone, wish me luck." You walked out of the kitchen to find Bob still sitting on the couch, glass of water in hand.

His eyes met yours and he gave you a smile sweeter than honey. Your legs began to wobble, whether it was from that smile or your nerves, you couldn't say.

You walked over, making a beeline for him. Bob's eyes widened, his fingers gripping his cup. Your gaze was so intense.

"Hey Bee-oh!" Bob froze as you sat down in his lap, your thighs straddling his lithe hips.

"Hey Robby," your hands found his shoulders, fingers toying with the thin cotton fabric of his shirt.

"Uh Bee, there's um, there's a seat right there," Bob weakly pointed to the empty space next to him.

"I don't want that," you leaned forward, your forehead grazing his, "I want you Robby."

His eyes widened once more, as if he just saw an incoming train, "M-me?"

"Yes. Wanted you ever since that first day of training, when you offered me a mint," you told him.

"I uh, you looked sleepy and mint is known to wake you up and," Bob paused, "Did you say since the first day of training?"

You nodded, smiling at how you were able to see him process this information.

"The first day of training?" He repeated.

"Yes Bob, all you did was offer me a mint and smile to make me fall head over heels for ya," your fingers now went up to the back of his neck, twirling the curled ends of his hair, "Been trying to tell you that for the last month."

Bob opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, his brain still processing everything.

"You good Rob-" You never got to finish your sentence, as Bob decided right then was the best time to press his lips against yours.

His lips were soft and tasted faintly of vanilla, no doubt from the chapstick you watched him reapply. His touch was gentle, his thick fingers ghosting over your thighs, trailing up to your waist. Every move, no matter how small, made your heart fluttered.

Being so close to him, you could smell his aftershave, a mix of eucalyptus and sage. It was intoxicating and you wanted to be surrounded by it all the time, wanted to kiss him all the time.

When he broke away for air, you had to hold back a whimper, your lips desperate for more.

"FINALLY!"

You turned your head to find Bradley, along with Mickey, Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Reuben standing by the doorframe, in perfect view of you and Bob.

You smiled and opened your mouth, ready to make a quick remark. But Bob's fingers hooked underneath your chin, turning your head back to meet his lips again.

Unlike the first kiss, this one was bolder. His lips moved against yours with more confidence. Your whole body felt warm, as if you were floating. His hands now cupped your jawline, which is how you learned that Bob's hands practically covered your whole neck, a discovery that sent you reeling.

Your hands trailed up to his head, desperate to feel his sun kissed locks, desperate to find out if they were as soft as they looked. But just before you could, Bob broke away.

"What?" Anxiety came rushing back, dragging you away from Cloud Nine, your previous location. Did he regret it?

"Let's go."

He moved your body to the empty space on the couch, quickly getting up. You took his hands, allowing him to help you get up. You held onto one hand as he led you to the front door.

"Bob! What are you doing with my backseater?" Javy called out.

"Making up for lost time!"

Maybe you should be a little embarrassed. But how could you? You had finally kissed the man of your dreams, he kissed you back. He wanted to leave with you.

The sounds of the house party fainted, becoming soft background noise as you went outside.

Bob stopped, turning around to face you. Before you could get out a sound, his lips were on you again. His hands pulled your body to his, closing the gap in-between.

You couldn't help but moan when you felt his tongue slide against your bottom lip, immediately granting him entrance. You could hear Bob's breath hitch, his hands roaming across your body, touching your soft skin.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you desperate for more.

"Why do you keep doing that?!"

"I...." His face was flushed, "I meant to ask you if if you drove yourself here. But you looked so kissable. You still do, God I just wanna kiss you again."

"I'm not stopping you Robby," you grinned, stepping towards him, "I'm not stopping you at all."

"Oh don't tell me that darlin'" his Midwestern upbringing laced his words. You always loved his accent, having found it not just unique but also comforting.

Somehow, despite his lips pressed against yours, Bob was able to walk you back to his car, your back meeting the cool metal.

His broad body draped over yours, his tongue frantically exploring your mouth. Your fingers reached up, grasping his hair. It was soft and much thicker than you expected.

What else was there about Bob you had yet to learn? What kind of toothpaste he used, if he drank tea or coffee in the morning. Did he fall asleep to rain sounds or silence? How many pillows were on his bed?

You wanted to know everything.

But right now, you just wanted to kiss Bob.

Your fingers tugged on his hair in an attempt to pull him closer to you. Despite his chest being pressed against yours, it wasn't enough. You wanted all of him.

"We should get in the car," He said, voice breathless. With the way his chest was rising, one would think he had just ran ten miles.

Bob began moving towards the driver's side of his truck, but he stopped, turning back to you.

"I want to take you home," He stated. It sounded like a confession with the way guilt laced his eyes.

"I would love that Robby."

Instead, he just shook his head, "But I shouldn't because you deserve more than that. You deserve a nice date, like that Italian restaurant we always pass when we go to Bradley's. You deserve that and flowers and a lovely dinner with candles and wine that's older than both of us-"

You cut him off by gently pecking his lips, "It's okay Bob. You could take me to that diner up the room from your place tomorrow morning and I'd be elated because I would be with you."

He shook his head, clearly torn between continuing to talk and continuing to kiss you, "But....it's the least I should do. I mean, after all the hints you were dropping. I thought you were just being friendly and-"

"What friend asks another friend to look at their chest?" You asked incredulously.

"I thought maybe we were just really close! That you were really comfortable around me, which is why I didn't think anything regarding what you wore when we watched Love Island. I mean," his face reddened, "I did think about it. Um I thought about it a lot and if you ever want to wear it again, I would not mind-"

"Bob," you stepped forward, placing your hands on his chest.

"I mean, you got me Violets! Those mean loyalty and devotion, as well as delicate love! And believe me I wanted to kiss you at the Hard Deck, but that is entirely Jake's fault-"

"As most things are."

"And looking back it was so obvious and I can't believe I didn't pick up on it," He paused, "Sorry, I I had to get that out. I can take you home or back to my place, whatever you want."

You giggled, delighted by his ramblings. You wanted to hear more of it.

"And now I just want to kiss you. Like all the time," He confessed, his lips moving closer to yours.

"Robby, get in the car," you instructed.

"Oh, um, okay," Bob unlocked his car, moving towards the driver seat.

"No Bob. Get in the back of the car," you instructed.

Bob's brows knitted together in confusion, "But then how will I drive-oh!"

Who knows if you were going to make it back to his place or yours. All you cared about was getting your lips and hands back on Bob Floyd.

seb x reader with prompt " kissing their helmet for good luck before the race" any seb era (you choose) i hope you like the prompt :) <3

♡ Helmet Kisses [1.1K] I couldn't decide which era of Seb I wanted to do; so here's all three!

♡ Red Bull Racing Era

Back in his Red Bull Racing days, Sebastian was known for having a string of lovers; different girls would show up to the race every so often, but never in the Paddock.

Until of course, you came along.

You were the rationality to his chaotic energy, the calm voice in his head before he’d scream down the radio on a particularly bad race. 

Also, the first girl he had in the Paddock. 

Let’s start by saying the team adored you. Finally, Sebastian would show up on time to meetings and wouldn’t start causing chaos during one of Horner’s speeches. 

On the race evening, prior to his second World Championship, he’s all smiles, before walking onto the grid, hopping into his car. 

You at this point, were shyly standing alongside some of the other garage guests; you weren’t too sure what the media would think of ‘Vettel’s new lady, the one who’s stuck around.’

Until there’s a sudden motion from one of his mechanics, motioning at you. 

For a second, you don’t think to move, until he shouts your name, waving wildly for you to come over to the car. 

You can feel your heart race, feeling like the eyes of every driver, mechanic and fan were on you. The only solace you had was Lewis and Mark, having been introduced to Sebastian’s close friends earlier in the weekend. 

When you reached the Red Bull, the mechanic pats your back. You barely notice it, attention drawn to your boyfriend’s helmet-clad head. 

‘You didn’t give me my good-luck kiss!’ He huffed, lifting his visor so his blue eyes could meet your own. 

You can’t hold back the laugh this time. ‘Didn’t you win here without me last time?’ You question the logic. Sebastian simply huffs, not wanting to listen to logic, instead, folding his arms and pouting like a child. 

You end up caving, leaning over the side of the RB7, pressing a kiss to the side of his helmet. 

You don’t miss the cheering from the rest of the grid as you duck your head, cheeks blushing from the interaction as you walk off the track.

You also don’t miss Sebastian’s shout of ‘I want a proper one when I win!

♡ Scuderia Ferrari Era

You hadn’t been able to attend the opening race of Sebastian’s first year with Ferrari; something you’d felt awful about, knowing it was his dream to race for them. 

So here you were, clad in red, engagement finger resting on your left hand, ready to support your husband-to-be. 

He’d been aggravated, Lewis and Nico finishing 30 seconds ahead of him in the opening race had driven him insane. 

He knew he could do better.

So, when he came into to garage, clad in his red fireproofs, (ones you could have fantasies over,) his game-face was on.

You knew better than to interrupt the ins and outs of setting up the car. 

Sebastian had barely spoken to you that morning; he’d held your hand firmly when walking to the car that morning. 

Even in the car, your usual chat and singing along to his ancient music was replaced by a silence. 

The only form of comfort you had been able to offer him was a hand resting on his leg as he drove; a silent promise you would be here for him, not matter the result.  

It wasn’t until one of the mechanics walked past, holding Sebastian’s helmet, that you spoke up, asking if you could give it to him.

He obliged; in his mind, anything to cheer up their driver before the race would be a good thing. 

You had held out the helmet, his eyes widening when he saw that it was you handing it to him. 

Before handing it to him, you lifted the helmet to your face, kissing the part of the helmet where his lips would usually be on his face. 

You grinned, handing him the helmet, winking as you handed it over.

‘That’s your good luck kiss. Go out there and get that win.’ 

There was a massive cheer around the garage as they finally saw Sebastian break into a smile, the first one of the day.

Even Kimi had started grinning, knowing how in love his teammate was. 

After the win he scored that afternoon, the mechanics insisted you joined them for as many races as possible. 

♡ Aston Martin Era

Of course, you were there for Sebastian’s final race. The day had been overwhelming. 

Even though you hadn’t been by his side for the entirety of the day, you had been around the Paddock; your three-year-old daughter clad in Aston Martin merch.

The whole family had to be there for Sebastian; it was his last race after all.

It had been more emotional for you that you’d realised. 

Charles had come up to you, tears in his eyes as he thanked you for looking out for him all those years, even after Sebastian had left Ferrari. 

You didn’t expect the warm hug from Christian, who wished you both the best and had promised the second your daughter got into karting, he would be signing her to Red Bull. 

Of course, Sebastian had given both his girls a kiss before stepping into his car, nestling in his seat for the last time. 

You’d sat in the garage, your daughter on your lap as you pointed to where he was listening to his mechanic; her eyes widened upon seeing her father in the cars she’d seen all day. 

His race engineer nudged you, motioning towards your husband.

‘Go on. Give him one more for old times’ sake.’

You laugh, getting up from your chair and scooping up your daughter, walking through the grid. 

She of course, gives her Uncle Mick a wave, having spent most of her afternoon coaxing him to play imaginary games with her. 

Sebastian clocks the two of you coming across the grid, even though he’s strapped in, he turns his head. 

You can’t see the grin on his face, but you know it’s there. 

Leaning over and kissing the side of his head, it’s as if all of them years had been taken back, back to when you and Sebastian were just kids; the first time you’d ever been seen with him. 

You seem to fly through the years with that one kiss, before leaning up, ready to walk away, until the wiggling girl in your arms whines. 

Giving her a questioning look, she leaned down, arms guided by you, as she pressed a sloppy kiss to her father’s helmet. 

Sebastian’s heart melted.

His girls on his final race, he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

☽ [If you have a headcanon/drabble idea, thought or request, feel free to send it here!] ☾

Dying For (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.2k 

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of stalking, Adrian has a praise kink (also a bit of a sub here), mentions of blood/injury, stitches, mentions of violence, vaginal fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, thigh riding, (lmk if I missed anything please!!)

You awake to the sound of shattering glass.  

Fucking great. 

The one time you’re home alone, house sitting for you parents, shit like this happens—

You throw your comforter off in a great flourish and vault from your bed. Goobie, your parent’s old, wrinkly basset hound, one wrong breath away from yeeting off this mortal coil, begins to bay at the foot of your bed. Chilly air caresses your bare thighs, the hardwood floors turning your toes to ice. You grab your brother’s baseball bat that rests besides your dresser as Goobie howls at the door. More glass splinters and cracks, stemming from the living room.    

A life in Evergreen is never overwhelmingly busy—especially without a job. Only thing you frequently find yourself doing nowadays is participating in a long standing rivalry between you, a broom, and and the congregation of overly curious raccoons that have sequestered themselves in your backyard. One night—one fucking night you left out a box of Cheez-Its and now they think it’s easy pickings—  

They’ve grown bold, you think, to physically manifest inside your living room. It’s fine. Totally cool. 

Except—

As you open your door, dressed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shitty underwear, prepared to beat back the surge of grubby, little thieves, you’re met with—

Well…you’re not really sure what you’re looking at, to be quite frank. 

Keep reading

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.

Feyd Rautha would understand the gravity of impregnating a member of the Bene Gesserit. The promise of a powerful heir born with the voice and truthsaying abilities meant a stable driving force for House Harkonnen with ties to those closest to The Emperor. But when you grow a swollen stomach, round and full with his child, the political chess moves are far from his mind.

The Na-Baron is obsessed. At first you note his unwillingness to leave your side, refusing to take to the arena and slay Harkonnen prisoners while you are with child. His dual hunting blades gather dust, Feyd choosing instead to pose his aggression against any male Harkonnen that dares look your way.

Usually unaffectionate, Feyd lays claim to you by placing his hands on you often. His palm presses against the swell of your stomach, feeling the tiny kicks of the child inside. It almost makes him more protective, insisting he, alone, protect you.

Seperate from prying eyes, Feyd cannot keep his hands, his lips, off you.

“You witch,” he hisses between heavy kisses, his firm grip hoisting your thighs over his hips, “You have poisoned me— Bewitched me with your Gesserit powers.”

But when Feyd sinks his cock deep inside you, his palms splayed across your swollen stomach, he’s too busy growling out your name to accuse you of sorcery. In truth, Feyd Rautha would readily fill you with his seed again and again to watch you swell with more of his children.

dune masterlist

Hidden in the dark

I fell down a @norrisleclercf1 rabbit hole two days ago (and I'm still stuck down said rabbit hole) and this is what came of it

1.5K

Mafia!Danny Ric x Verstappen!Reader

Jos Verstappen was a powerful guy

A scary powerful guy

He ran an empire that spanned the entire world

He spent his life raising his son to take over the empire

He also spent it teaching his son to keep his daughter away from this sort of life

Jos didn't want Y/N Verstappen involved with his empire

It was Max's job to protect her

There was a five-year difference between them, with Max being twenty-five and Y/N being just twenty

When Y/N was ten, she went missing

Jos lost his shit with Max, threatening him with his gun before sending him off to go and find her

Fifteen-year-old Max cried with he found Y/N reading out in the garden, hidden behind some bushes

But that was ten years ago

Now, Max had more responsibilities

He was set to take over Jos' empire any day now

Max had his own men, his own weapons and his own big jobs

His main job was still to protect his sister

It was something he and his inner circle did together

Max's inner circle

It consisted of three men and then their men

Charles, Lando, and Daniel

Max's inner circle was made up of people from all different countries

Charles was the Monégasques, he helped Max with his French dealings

Lando was British, he helped Max with his dealings in English-speaking countries

Daniel was the Aussie, he didn't help Max with any international business; his talents were better suited to the jobs Max had for him at home

Well, job, I should say

There was just one job for Daniel and her name was Y/N

When Y/N was a teenager, she had her rebelliousness squashed out of her by her fear of Jos

Now she was a quiet adult who rarely left her house, unless she was surrounded by a team of at least five men

That team always involved of Daniel

Daniel was always guarding Y/N

He went wherever she went

And, if she wasn't going anywhere, he was outside of her door

If Max wanted a meeting with his inner circle, Daniel always had at least two of his men standing outside of her door

One day, Daniel was guarding outside of her door

He had at least two guns and a knife on him - you could never have too many weapons in this line of work

Although he was always there, Y/N never interacted much with him, she knew her father would hate it

But one night, she was thirsty

Wrapped up her in robe, Y/N pulled open her bedroom door

"M'lady," said Daniel as the door opened

He tipped an invisible hat in Y/Ns direction and she smiled back at him, not saying anything

Y/N walked through the dark halls, making her way down to the kitchen with Daniel close behind

"What do you need?" He asked her

Daniel knew how Jos felt about 'staff' interacting with the Y/N Verstappen, he just didn't care

"Just a water," said Y/N as she grabbed a glass from the cupboard

Daniel stood vigilant as Y/N filled her glass and drank it

This happened night after night

Y/N didn't always answer Daniel, so he just talked as she drank

Not about his work, thank god

He spoke about everything else

Y/N was grateful for it

She didn't approve of her father's empire or the work her brother and his friends did for Jos

So, with Daniel talking about everything else, it was nice

"You're an interesting man," said Y/N as she got her water one night, surprising the both of them

"You think so?"

She nodded, standing closer to him than she ever had before

If Daniel reached out, he would have his hands on her, holding her hips

Daniel escorted her back to her room

The next evening, Y/N didn't want water

She knocked on her own door and pulled it open, looking at Daniel

"Do you want to come in?"

"If I come in, who's going to guard your door?"

She pulled him in anyway

"Everything okay?" Asked Daniel as he leaned against the door

"Fine," Y/N replied as she sat on her bed, tucking one leg under the other

"Do you need any water?"

She shook her head

"Anything to eat?"

She shook her head again

Daniel pushed away from the door

He walked around the room, looking at Y/N's things

Pictures, all of them of her family

She had no pictures of her having fun, of her with her friends

They were just her and Max, standing in their Sunday bests behind their father, who looked as though he was sitting on a throne

There were a couple of cat pictures, cats the family had owned over the years and a couple of Jimmy and Sassy

No pictures of her mother or older sister

Daniel didn't ask about it, he didn't want to pry

He stopped over by the window and looked out of it for a moment, before turning around and looking at Y/N

"So, what do you do for fun around here?" He asked

Y/N pointed towards her television and her bookshelf

"Is that it?"

She sat further back on her bed, leaning against the pillow

"I need my fathers permission to do anything and I don't have any friends. What am I supposed to do?"

"What if I took you somewhere?" he offered

"You mean, sneak out?"

"I definitely mean sneak out."

That was how Y/N found herself in her first night club

She had a drink in her hand and Daniel dancing beside her

When the second drink was placed in her hand, she and Daniel were dancing together

By the third drink she was pressed against the wall, his lips on hers

It was wrong - he worked for her brother and was more than ten years her senior

"Danny," she whispered when he pulled away

They were once again on the dance floor, his hands on her hips as they swayed to the music

His front was pressed against her behind and Y/N felt like her every nerve was on fire

At two AM, Y/N and Daniel were making their way back home

They got to the front gate and kept going, climbing over the wall

From there they snuck through the front garden, hid themselves behind trees and rose bushes

It was a real good thing the Verstappen's didn't have dogs, Daniel thought as they got to the trellis below Y/N's window

"I can't believe you don't have more security," he whispered as he helped her to climb

"You can bring that up with my brother, if you'd like"

They weren't being very quiet

Y/N struggled to open her bedroom window, stumbling back as she did so

She let out a shriek and then a series of giggles when Daniel caught her

"Wow," she whispered, grabbing a hold of the trellis

She didn't go back up to her window, but instead she turned around and kissed Daniel again

He was just a couple of rungs below her, but it made them the same height

His arms on either side of her was the only thing holding her up

They were there until his arms got tired

"Want to head up?"

***

Daniel didn't have nearly as much to drink as Y/N

He was sober enough to get her into bed and then stand guard at her door until he changed shift with Oscar

From then on it was sneaking around with Daniel

During the day, they didn't know each other; they were Y/N Verstappen and Daniel Ricciardo

At night, when he could slip through her bedroom door, they were Danny and Y/N

There was four months of this, of sneaking out and kissing in the hidden away shadows of the house

And then Max found out

Well, no, actually

Lando found out first

He was walking through the hall when he saw Danile slip into Y/Ns room

The usually so careful Aussie didn't know how to explain himself, so he folded and told Lando everything

And then Lando realised he had to tell Max

Max was furious, at first

He waited, though, watched from the distance

Needed confirmation before he struck

Confirmation was something Max got surprisingly quickly

Max had himself hidden away as he watched Daniel look around and then slip into Y/Ns room

Gun drawn, Max burst in

Y/N and Daniel didn't have time to jump away from each other before Max had his gun pressed against his head

"I'm going to funking kill you"

The writing is happening a little slower rn - academics are about to start and I'm trying to work so it'll only get worse

Again, this is the product of reading @norrisleclercf1 posts all day (aka, if you like this, check out this beautiful persons writings)