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perlelune · 5 months

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NDA | Coriolanus Snow

When you get hired as a nanny for President Snow and his wife's firstborn, you’re beyond thrilled and grateful. But quickly, the perfect facade melts, revealing the ugly truth of what actually goes on in the Snows' house.

Warnings: NON-CON, Capitol! Reader, Innocent Reader, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Power Imbalance

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your worried eyes track the frenzied glide of the woman’s quill over the notepad. You squint, hoping to discern some of the words she’s scrawling that way, but they are indiscernible…just like the stone-cold expression of the bespectacled woman on the other side of the desk.

She catches you trying to peek. Your heart jumps.

As her sharp green gaze zeroes in on you, you clear your throat and shift in your seat.

She puts her quill down and twines her fingers.

“So what do you think sets you apart from the other applicants?”

You chew on your lip. When you arrived to offer your candidature this morning, you naively believed you’d be early. Instead, you were forced to join the tail end of the massive waiting line stretching far outside the Snows’ estate. It didn’t hit you before that moment, how prized the position is. Each of the women and girls you saw radiated excellent breeding and impeccable manners. Many probably attended the University and could double as a tutor if the need presents itself.

This isn’t your case. Your parents left you and your brother Laertes with nothing when they suddenly passed away in a rebel bombing. You couldn’t blame them. This wasn't the plan. Who plans on dying and leaving their two children to fend for themselves?

Still, you now have a list of bills the length of your arm coupled with a massive mortgage to pay every month. And as Laertes’ sole caretaker, you must ensure you can afford to send him to University once he completes his education in the Academy.

Circumstances denied you that chance. Despite being of university’s age, you couldn’t afford the cost of tuition and had to drop out as soon as you got accepted. You want better for your little brother.

So as soon as you heard the news that President Snow and First Lady Livia Cardew were in search of a nanny for their son Martius, you jumped on the opportunity to apply. You rose before the sun, rummaged through your mother’s closet to find her best dress, and hailed a car to come here.

It’s a long shot, of course. You’re not as polished and impressive as some of the other women. You’re also noticeably younger. But the wages promised alone compelled you to take a chance despite the odds being unfavorable.

Fiddling with your hands, you meet the woman’s impassive stare head-on.

“What sets me apart?” You mull over your answer. You could paint a false, august portrait of yourself, your skills and your accomplishments. Or try to at least.

But what would be the point of pretending to be someone you’re not only to be found out later on? So you elect to tread the path of honesty.

“Nothing,” you say. “But I’m a hard worker. A very hard worker. In fact, I already have three jobs, one at a bakery, another as a clerk in an antique shop and I assist Fabricia Whatnot at her boutique sometimes.” Panic quivers inside you as the woman quickly jots something down on her notepad. You swiftly specify, “...But I’ll quit all of them if I get the position, of course.” You lick your lips as knots tie your stomach. “I can learn everything there is to learn on the spot. I love children, and…” You trail off, gaze traveling to your lap as you muse if you should reveal more. Your fists clench as you add, “I have a little brother who’s a few years older than Martius, and I’m really hoping I get this opportunity so I can give him the life he deserves.”

An unnerving quiet occupies the air. The wait is agony, your nails digging painfully into your palms. The jagged drumming of your heart bleeds inside your ears as she studies you.

Eventually, she leans back in the velvet chair, her face betraying no thought or emotion.

“You’re dismissed,” she says.

Your heart plummets to your feet. You shakily rise, dispirited as you drag your heels towards the door. You steal a glance above your shoulder. The woman’s attention has already drifted away from you as she shouts for the next applicant.

You sourly exit the office. You try to swallow your dejection as you note how many women are still waiting in line, each of them likely more qualified and experienced. It’s obvious you tanked the interview. Shoulders slumping, you take resigned steps through the elegant, palatial hallways of the Snow’s mansion. You get lost in admiring the crystal and gold chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. There isn’t an inch of the house that doesn’t scream excessive, unattainable wealth.

You take your time soaking it in. Chances are you’ll never step foot in such a place in your lifetime ever again.

Distracted, you don’t notice the person in front of you before it’s too late. You bump straight into a hard, inflexible body.

The sudden collision threatens your balance.

Fingers coil around your wrists as you stagger back, preventing your impending collapse onto the marbled floor.

As your attention drifts skywards, your jaw drops at who fills your vision.

“P-President Snow, my deepest apologies, s-sir,” you stammer, flames licking your cheeks.

As if you didn’t make yourself look dimwitted enough before, you now carelessly crashed into the leader of all of Panem. Just when you thought the day couldn’t possibly get worse.

You take him in. It truly is him. Shock fills you.

Tall and dazzling in a crisp white shirt and crimson vest that hints at his lean physique beneath the clothes, his signature blond waves slicked away from his face, he looks every bit the important figure that he is.

The flickering TV screen you own at home doesn’t do him justice.

A gentle smirk unfurls on his lips.

“It’s quite alright. I’m not made of sugar,” he jests.

“No…you’re not, your highness…majesty...I mean sir.”

Your blunder expands his smile. His cerulean gaze drags over your frame.

“Are you here for the nursemaid position?”

“I am, sir.” You unleash a deep exhale, his inquiry tossing salt on the fresh wound. The interviewer clearly wasn’t impressed by your less than stellar performance. Maybe you should have tried to mimic the way the girls with whom you attended the Academy behave more. They carry themselves with such confidence, wading through the world with the certainty of their destinies being secure, bereft of hardships unlike district dwellers.

You envy how carefree they get to be. Everyday you wake up worried you’ll come up short on a bill and you and Laertes will be forced to leave your family home. No matter how diligent you are at work, there never seems to be enough money to sustain the two of you. Even with three jobs, you’re barely eking out a decent living for you and your little brother. Many times, you’ve gone to bed hungry just so Laertes would not.

You don’t even realize tears have filled your eyes to the brim until a handkerchief is daintily pressed into your cheeks.

Flabbergasted, you blink up at President Snow.

“Thank you,” you exhale, stunned by his kind gesture.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

You search his eyes. Genuine interest lights up his pellucid blue orbs.

Without much thought, you confess, “I just don’t think I did very well with my interview.”

As he scrutinizes you in silence, cocking his head sideways, embarrassment rushes through you.

Words anxiously leave your lips in a tremulous string.

“God, I’m so sorry, spilling my problems to you as if you’re not an extremely busy man, sir.”

He shakes his head. “It’s quite alright. And do not count yourself defeated, sweetheart.” Your pulse stutters when he bends over you to whisper, “You may have left a stronger impression than you think.”

He nudges the pocket square between your hands. It’s still damp with your tears. You gape at it in awe. President Snow’s initials are elegantly etched in the left corner of the fabric.

“Here. Keep it. Though I’d much prefer it if you didn’t cry.” He pauses, studying you. “Girls as lovely as you never should.”

His words send your heart into a frenzy. For a while, you’re too stunned to move. You then shake yourself back to reality, noticing you’re now staring at the empty space where he used to stand. He’s gone. You look ahead. He’s already miles away from you, wrapped in conversation with who seems to be an assistant of his.

Your thumbs press against the soft fabric of the pocket square. Cheeks ablaze, you hold it to your nose. It smells like roses, the same delicate scent that wafted from him a few minutes ago. Your back prickles. You pivot and are astonished to find the envious glares of some of the applicants still waiting in line zeroed in on you. Self-conscious, you rush to continue your exit, fleeing away from the hateful stares.

As the outside gates come into sight, you can’t suppress an elated smile. It’s not everyday someone meets President Snow and receives such a gift from him. Shoving the handkerchief in your pocket, you vow to place it somewhere safe and always cherish it.

When you return home, your brother’s already sitting in the living room, his tiny brows scrunched in concentration and his nose buried in his books. Your stomach sinks. Everything you did today was for him. You can’t help but feel you missed out on a huge opportunity, one that’d have changed the course of his life forever. You glance around at the apartment. The walls are crumbling. The wooden floors are creaking. The pipes in the kitchen have been leaking for weeks, a measly bucket you must empty every morning the only thing preventing a flood. And at night, the pitter-patter of rodents’ paws resonates from the ceiling.

Every inch of your family home is in dire need of repairs.

Unfortunately, every penny you earn goes into rent and food, meaning the house falls apart a bit more everyday. Perhaps one day, you and Laertes will awake beneath the rubble of what’s left of your childhood home. Nightmares of that sometimes keep you up at night.

“How was the Academy today?” you chime, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. Worry twists your chest. There isn’t much left. You’ll need to make do with cabbage and whatever other veggies are left. Perhaps you could toss in some leftover dried meat and make a stew.

“My teacher signed me up for advanced trigonometry,” your brother announces.

You close the cabinet and beam at him.

“Oh, that sounds hard. I’m proud of you.” It doesn’t exactly surprise you. Laertes’ always been exceptionally smart. Even his teachers noticed how gifted he is from an early age. Unlike you, he breezed through middle school and now the Academy.

It’s why it’s crucial you make sure he can go to the University. A mind like his shouldn’t be wasted.

You brother shrugs, exuding nonchalance.

“It’s fine.”

You rush to him. You wrap your arm around him playfully and hug him in his chair, pulling his cheek like when he was little. You know he hates when you do that but you can’t help teasing him a bit. It’s your duty as a big sister after all.

“Don’t downplay it. My little brother’s a genius.”

He wriggles his way out of the hug, rolling his eyes.

“Stop it.”

You head back to the kitchen and fire the stove.

“I’ll make you something,” you say, smiling at your brother.

His brows knit. “Make something for yourself first.”

You nibble your bottom lip. You truly hoped he wouldn’t notice, how much smaller than his your portions are. But he’s growing; he needs it. Much more than you. Besides, how can he focus at the Academy and be the brilliant boy he is supposed to be with a growling stomach? You won’t allow it.

“Laertes…”

He shakes his head, his expression firm.

“No. You always do this. This time, we split whatever is left.”

Heaving out a resigned exhale, you nod. You whirl to resume preparing dinner.

You gather a boiling pot from the overhead cabinet and place it on the stove. With the ease of practice, you begin chopping vegetables and tossing them into the pot. You add spices and water. The mouthwatering aroma quickly fills the kitchen. Pride swells in your chest. Your cooking skills have improved so much in the last year since your parents passed. You now manage to bring flavor to the blandest of meals.

Once the stew’s ready, you pour a portion in each bowl, putting just a little more in your brother’s and praying he will not notice.

You place the steaming bowls on the table and take a seat opposite him.

“No books at the dining table,” you admonish, mimicking the exact tone your mother used with your brother. Admitting defeat, Laertes sighs and sets his homework aside. The tiny victory tugs your lips skyward.

He tells you about his day at the Academy while the two of you eat. You’re delighted to hear he’s making a lot of friends and he’s at the top of his class for most science subjects. He’s struggling a bit more with his poetry and ethics classes, but you encourage him by reminding him he can just ask the teacher for extra assignments to keep his grade up.

“I interviewed for a new job today,” you reveal, stirring the spoon in your bowl while waiting for your brother to eat more of his food.

“How did it go?”

“Well, it pays really well so I’m hopeful.”

The hope dancing in his eyes makes your chest ache. You don’t have the heart to tell him you made a fool of yourself today. You may not be gifted like your brother, but you want him to know he can rely on you at least.

Pursing his mouth, he looks down at his stew.

“That’s great. It’d be good if you didn’t have to work as much.”

Your smile falters. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”

“Okay.”

His dour tone stirs your concern. You wish you were better at hiding things from him, making his childhood as normal as possible. But your brother’s twelve now, and that’s old enough to sense when things are wrong.

He rises from his seat. You frown as you note there’s still food left in his bowl.

“Finish your plate before going to your room.”

Annoyance pinches his features but he still picks up his bowl and hastily guzzles down the remainder of his stew.

“Happy now?” he says, wiping his mouth.

“Yes. Very,” you cheerfully respond.

He gathers his books and strides towards his room.

Your voice rises.

“Don’t stay up too late to study, okay? I love you.”

“I…love you too,” he mumbles.

You bask in the moment as you clean the table. Thankfully Laertes is still at an age where he says it back. One day he might not. So you must cherish every instant. Every conversation, every hug, every ‘I love you’. Because it could all vanish in a second. You learned that the hard way a year ago.

The day of the interview recedes to the back of your mind as you keep living your life. Work is harrowing, as usual, but you tend to your tasks as best as you can. Your arms ache as you knead the dough in the back of the bakery. You give yourself a second to wipe the sweat off your forehead. It’s been a hectic afternoon. There’s a massive pastry order for some Capitol heiress’ birthday due tomorrow. So you’ve been racing between the front desk and the kitchen in the back. A baker called in sick today, leaving you with twice the workload.

You know it won’t take much to crash into your bed and fall asleep tonight.

To make matters worse, the day hits its nadir when you get your pay that day. You peer inside the envelope for the umpteenth time. An anxious chuckle peals out of your lips.

“I’m sorry I don’t want to complain, but…this doesn’t match the hours I put in.”

The owner scratches the back of his neck, a contrite expression etched on his face.

“I’m sorry too. With the new taxes imposed by the Capitol, I had to cut your salary.”

Slack-jawed by the news, no word leaves your mouth as you stare at him. He sighs.

“If it’s a problem, we can find someone else-”

“No, no,” you interrupt, blinking in panic. “Please, I need this job.”

He acquiesces and you’re forced to thank him despite feeling cheated. You actually scaled back your hours for your other part-times since this one paid more. What a waste.

Dispirited, you return home. As you give the driver a bill for the fare, your insides wrench. Every bill counts. Perhaps you’ll need to walk back home from now on. The streets of the Capitol are notoriously dangerous but you can’t see any other way to save your dwindling wages. You already know you’ll need to request an extension for rent this month. How will you pay it, however?

You suppose you’ll have to figure it out. You always figure it out.

These are the somber thoughts swaying in your mind as you check the mailbox.

Bills. Bills. And more bills. Your already sour mood plummets even more. But a slim, silver envelope sticking out from the pile corrals your focus. Curiosity surges inside you. It looks fancy and there’s a wax seal with the Capitol’s symbol keeping it shut. You rush to open it, heart fluttering in strange anticipation.

You unfold the neatly folded letter inside. As you read the words, you gasp, dropping the letter. Still trembling from shock and excitement, you bend to pick it up.

You take a deep slow breath before reading it again.

This time, a squeal escapes from your lips.

You read it many more times to make sure your eyes aren’t just conjuring wild fantasies.

After a while, you realize they aren’t. It’s true.

Holding the letter to your chest, you toss yourself on your bed and kick your feet excitedly.

You then place your palm on your forehead. In disbelief, you beam at the ceiling.

Somehow…you’ve been hired to work for the Snows. You actually got the job.

Perhaps there is light at the end of the tunnel.

You fidget before the iron gates, smoothing absent wrinkles on your skirt. It’s one of the best outfits you could find on short notice that wasn’t moth-eaten or visibly overworn. You pray it’s enough. You let your gaze wander. The Snows’ estate truly is majestic. The lush gardens. The beautiful architecture. You feel a little small as you admire the mansion.

Remembering yourself, you pivot to the man who drove you there. You fish inside your pocket for a bill and hand it to him. He stares at you blankly from the driver’s seat.

A weary sigh ripples behind you.

You turn, your eyes widening. It’s the woman who interviewed you that day. She wears the same stern expression.

“You don’t need to pay him,” she explains, dismissing the man with her hand. He nods and drives away. “He’s your assigned driver. He’ll pick you up each day and take you back home.”

“Oh.” You offer your hand. “Nice to meet you…again.”

She gives you a lengthy onceover, completely ignoring your gesture. Then she motions at you to follow her. You let your hand fall to your side. Heat blooms in your cheeks. Perhaps, you were too enthusiastic just then. Straightening your spine, you try your best to keep pace with her quick strides.

“I’m Pandora. I supervise most housekeeping duties for the president. I’ll show you around the estate. Then you’ll meet the young Master.”

She gives you a tour of the mansion. You’re even more amazed than last time though you try to suppress your awe and not stare excessively. She shows you the garden as well. The sea of snow-white roses makes your head spin. She specifies that the only part of the house that is off-limits is the west wing of the mansion, as these are the First Lady’s apartments and she must have rest and quiet.

She ends the visit by taking you to the nursery. A smile spontaneously finds its way onto your lips. A toddler plays with his toy train on the floor. With his blonde curls and bright blue eyes, he bears a striking resemblance to his father.

“That’s him? He’s so cute,” you whisper. Even the stern woman’s expression thaws a little as she looks at the child, softening ever-so-slightly. You send her a questioning glance. She gives you a nod of approval.

You approach the boy and crouch in front of him.

“Hi. You’re Martius, right?”

He lifts his head and beams at you. You’re immediately endeared. Again, his smile reminds you of President Snow. You suppose one could probably take over the world with a smile like that.

You turn to Pandora.

“Is his mother around? I should probably introduce myself.”

Her face pinches. “Mistress Livia has been unwell as of late. She is not to be disturbed today as she is quite tired.”

“Of course.” Your lips squeeze shut for a few seconds but curiosity gets the better of you. A question burns on your lips, one that nagged you ever since you got the job. It slips out before you can think it through. “Is this…Is this why the president and his wife require a nanny? The First Lady is sick?”

Pandora glowers at you. You flinch as she steps further inside the room, her searing tone like a whip.

“You are here to do your job, and nothing else. Mistress Livia’s health is no concern of yours. Do you hear me?”

You rise on shaky feet. You forgot yourself.

“I-I understand. I’m sorry I asked.”

“This reminds me. You have to sign this,” she says, handing you a pen and clipboard. A thin stack of papers are attached to the clipboard. The front page spells ‘Non-Disclosure Agreement’ in bold letters at the very top. You scowl as you flip through the pages.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a contract, one signed by every one of the President’s employees.”

“I don’t understand most of what’s written here…”

A frustrated exhale peals from her lips.

“I’ll make it simple for you then. For the duration of your employment here, nothing you see or hear must ever leave this house. You are here to care for the young master, that is all. Nothing else should concern you. Is that clear enough?”

You swallow thickly. It doesn’t sound hard at all. Discretion is essential in every job, isn’t it? But the way Pandora makes it sound, you’d assume there are bodies buried beneath the Snows’ estate. You’d laugh if her death stare weren’t so disquieting.

You peruse the contract, perplexed by most of the legal mumbo jumbo filling the pages. None of it rings any bell. You understand the gist of it however. You must preserve the president and his wife’s privacy. While you don’t know the specifics of the first lady’s condition, her public appearances have been few and far between in the last few years.

She used to be the envy of every woman in the Capitol. Beautiful, young and married to the dashing President Snow.

She was a fairytale princess come to life.

Then their son Martius was born. And when they held him up from the balcony of their mansion for all of Panem to gaze upon, they truly seemed like the perfect family.

Until one day, Livia Cardew simply…vanished.

She was noticeably absent from all the events of the season, some she even hosted herself. Tongues wagged of course, rumors and wild theories spreading like wildfire.

But no one knew the truth of what had happened to her.

The matter seems delicate. You promise yourself not to bring it up again.

You click the pen and scribble your name at the bottom of the very last page.

“I’ve…never signed a contract like that before starting a job.”

Pandora lets out a wry chuckle.

“Well, you’ve never worked for President Snow.”

As promised, you quit your two other jobs to focus solely on Martius. You’re hesitant at first. Your departed parents taught you never to put all your eggs in one basket. And it’s exactly what you’d be doing by trusting the Snows. But when you receive your first paycheck, long before the end of the week, every qualm you had fades. It’s more money than you’ve ever had, more money than you expected. Rent isn’t an issue anymore. Neither is food.

Besides, gifts keep coming from the estate. Clothes mostly, for both you and Laertes, but also jewelry, perfume and other fancy things you don’t need. Overwhelmed by President Snow’s generosity, you try to send some of it back, but you don’t have the heart to return everything when you see your brother’s happy face when he opens his wardrobe one day.

You’ve caught the self-conscious glimpses he casts at his classmates sometimes, when not wearing the Academy uniform. Their clothes are always brand new and custom, perfectly tailored while his are stitched back together by your clumsy hands whenever they fray at the seams. You’re not a seamstress but you’ve always done your best. But you know your best doesn’t compare to the access and privilege those kids have.

Other than those blessings, your time with Martius has been a breeze. Only hazy memories of your brother as a toddler linger in your mind, but you don’t recall him ever being as sweet and calm as the little boy is.

It hardly feels like work, caring for the small child. You spend the day playing along with his games, reading stories to him and, as the day nears its end, the two of you feed the ducks in the massive pond behind the mansion. He even gives them names and gets upset when they fight with each other.

“Lily doesn’t like James anymore,” he whispers to you one day, a sullen pout scrunching his tiny features.

“And why is that?”

“I think she’s angry that he steals her food.”

You chuckle and ruffle his golden locks. The little boy always has a story for everything he sees. At all times, his world must make sense. So if he cannot find a reason to explain what fills his gaze, he’ll weave a tale that matches it. His stories are each more wild than the other and he sometimes utters words you’ve never heard a four year old use.

But you surmise it is expected from the son of the president. When he isn’t with you, the little boy is often with his private tutor. Even at his tender age, the importance of manners and eloquence is impressed upon him.

Martius tugs at your skirt when you make your way to the door. You look down. His blue eyes are pleading.

“You’re leaving again?”

You heave out a long exhale. The little boy wasn’t so clingy before but with your bond growing, he’s been expressing more sadness from watching you go at the end of every day.

You hunker down to his level.

“My little brother’s expecting me.”

His forehead puckers. “Stay…”

“I told you before, Martius. I have a brother. He’ll miss me if I’m not here.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, giving a begrudging nod. Tears already swim in his eyes though. Panic flows through you. You didn’t want to upset him. You pick him up and bounce with him in your arms to try to soothe him.

“Oh, no. Don’t cry, sweetie.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nearly squeezing you to death when he wraps his arms around your neck. His loud, tearful sobs swell in the room. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow like always, okay? So I need you to be brave for me.” His grip on you loosens as he sniffles. You put him down and the two of you pinky promise that you’ll return. Your heart twists at the sight of his tear-stained little face.

You give his hair one last affectionate pat before rushing outside. If you stay, he might throw another tantrum. No matter what, you can never get mad at Martius. He’s just a child. In the absence of his mother, he’s bound to grow attached to any woman filling a role adjacent to hers. You loathe that you’re taking those moments from the first lady. Though it pleases you to have a steady job and spend time with the sweet boy, it feels wrong that she isn’t there. She should get to see her baby grow up. She should hear his inane ramblings and eccentric stories.

As time wears on, you’re dying to meet her and tell her about Martius. Is she truly so sick that she can’t even see him for a mere few minutes? You’re itching to break the rules and visit the west wing of the mansion. Sometimes you hear blood-curdling screams and wailing coming from the dark halls but you never dared venture through them. You know that if you did, Pandora would crucify you.

Laertes’ well-being matters more than your curiosity.

Humming absently, you halt in your tracks in the middle of a hallway. Confusion has you blinking. A peculiar noise bounces faintly against the walls. Your gaze drifts sideways, where the noise seems to come from. You’re clocking out. Whatever’s going on in the house isn’t any of your business at this hour.

But what if someone needs help? What if it’s something bad? You’d feel awful if you learnt something happened the next day and you pretended to ignore it. So you gingerly approach the wall. Your fingers graze the tapestry covering it.

Your eyes widen when the wall moves, a tiny crack forming in it.

Your eyes bulge. It’s an ajar door, you realize. A secret door one wouldn’t notice if they weren’t aware it was there. Light spills from the slight opening.

Confining your breath, you bend over the crack in the wall to get a glimpse of what’s behind it.

The vision crowding your sight makes the blood in your veins freeze.

President Snow rutting into a maid with his pants down to his ankles. His usually neat blonde locks are tousled, a few damp curls kissing his forehead. His massive cock glistens with the girl’s essence, disappearing into the girl’s spread lips over and over again. Her body is bent over the railing of the bed and her maid outfit is bunched around her hips, exposing her ass, the flesh trembling with each of the president’s harsh, pointed thrust.

Each time he snaps his hips he draws a broken moan from her. One of his hands is around the back of her throat while the other’s on the small of her back. He grunts low in his throat as she clenches around him, thrusting into her even faster than before.

The obscene sound of their coupling rises, coalescing with the feral grunts spilling from the president’s mouth. In that moment, he’s not the poised gentleman you’re used to seeing, he is an animal in rut chasing his high.

A shocked exhale escapes your lips. Your hand flies to cover your mouth. President Snow’s head snaps up, his gaze landing straight on you.

Your heart slams against your ribcage.

You jump back from the door and push the secret door closed. You dart across the hallway, determined to find the exit as quickly as you can. You don’t glance back, your steps hasty and panicked.

Pandora was right. It’s best not not to hear or see anything, to become a tomb in which secrets are buried.

You can only hope he didn’t recognize you through the tiny crack in the door.

Though you’re shaken to your core, you continue your work as a nanny. You still need money. You may have set aside everything you made thus far, but it will only sustain you and your brother for a month or two. Besides, you’ve already handed in your resignation for your other jobs. The positions have likely been filled. You can’t exactly show up out of the blue and ask for your former job back.

No. So you convince yourself that it’s alright. You have a good thing going anyway. You’re making more than you hoped. The child is happy. You’re happy. All is well. Or it would be at least.

…If you could conjure the memory of President Snow railing into the maid far away from your mind.

You want to forget it, bury the moment so deep in the abyss of your thoughts, it can never be unearthed.

But it isn’t so easy. Because every time your mind wanders even a little, you see him again. Skin glistening with sweat and blue eyes alight with lust. The image is tattooed into your brain.

You wonder if the first lady knows. Perhaps it’s why she’s hiding away. The weight of her husband’s indiscretions may have grown too heavy to carry. It sours your heart. President Snow seemed so kind, good and noble. He was nice to you. You still have the breast pocket he gave you tucked away in a drawer. You loathe to think he’d do that to his wife. No woman deserves this.

You lift your head when your name is uttered. You get to your feet. Adrift in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Pandora was in the nursery.

“Yes?”

“The president wants to see you in his office.”

Dread wrenches your gut. It’s exactly what you feared. Does he know? Did he see you? Your pulse picks up. What other reason would there be? He never summoned you before.

“Really, why?”

“He didn’t say, but I’m assuming it’s to congratulate you.”

Befuddlement wrinkles your forehead. “Congratulate me?”

Pandora heaves out a weary sigh. “Well, you’ve done much better than we thought,” she begrudgingly admits. “The young master smiles all the time.” She rolls her eyes. “Even if we must deal with his tantrums when you leave.”

A sliver of pride flutters through you with her admission. Pandora made her doubts about your capabilities plain and obvious from the beginning. It gladdens you that you may have changed her mind a little.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She turns to him, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s a small price to pay for his happiness.”

Your smile vanishes as she adds, “Now let me escort you to the president’s office. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you trail behind her. The entire trek to the president’s office, your stomach’s in knots. You keep wondering if it’s the day you’ll lose your job for being too nosy. You should have walked past the noise. You shouldn’t have peeked.

You inhale a lungful of nerve as Pandora opens the door to his office and frees room for you to enter. Your clammy hands wrench in your lap. He’s sitting behind his desk. You stagger further inside the room as he motions for you to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. He looks the same as the first time you stumbled into him, disarmingly handsome in an impeccable shirt and pants that flatter his long legs.

A sharp contrast to the version of him that has plagued your thoughts lately.

His sky gaze follows you as you take a trembling seat.

“Are you settling in well?” he asks.

“Hm, yes,” you stammer, anxiously twining your fingers. “It’s pretty much the perfect job. I get to be around a cute child all day.”

“I hear my son is very fond of you.”

You bashfully dip your head. “He’s very easy to like. He’s such a good boy, sweet, kind, and curious. You and your wife are raising him well, sir.”

He hums in thought. “I can’t take much credit for that. I’ve tried my best to carve out time for Martius…but work’s kept me busy. As for Livia...” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Well she isn’t quite herself these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He places one hand under his chin, scrutinizing you. You try not to twitch beneath his stare, your insides tight with dread.

“Hm, it’s strange,” he states after a minute that goes by like an eternity.

Your head rises. “What’s strange?”

“A girl like you.” His lips drag upward. “Sweet, nurturing, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be married already?”

Your lips part in astonishment. This isn’t the line of questioning you expected. “I-I’m not.”

“No fiancé?”

“No, sir.”

“A lover then?”

Warmth rushes to your face.

“No…”

He laughs, mirth dancing in his cobalt orbs.

“You must pardon me for being so forward but I simply find it astonishing. No suitors? It’s hard to believe since you’re so lovely, sweetheart.” He tilts his head. You shift in discomfort, his attention making you feel see-through. “I mean, a husband would have made your life easier than it’s been thus far, wouldn’t he, dove?”

A long exhale flows from your lips. “I’ve had offers, after I graduated from the Academy. There was even this boy, he was so kind to me.” The memory draws a small smile from you. “He proposed. I’m sure he’d make a great husband, but…”

“But…”

Your mouth dries.

“I know it’s probably naive and unrealistic but I want to marry for love, that great, life-changing love, like in those romance novels my mom used to love, not money or status.”

His eyes twinkle. “Or financial stability?”

Shame gathers in your chest. You know it sounds silly when uttered aloud.

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. It’s sweet that you still believe in love.” He appears lost in a faraway memory, his gaze hazing over with remembrance. “I used to believe in it too. I used to think, ‘Who needs wealth and success and power when love conquers all?’”

He chuckles but it’s bereft of amusement.

“Really? What happened then?”

His gaze locks with yours.

“I grew up.”

Confused, you frown.

“But aren’t you and the first lady in love?”

Another laugh bursts from his chest.

“God, you’re sweet.” His tone lowers to a dulcet whisper. “It’s like none of the world’s ugliness has gotten to you yet.” He reveals matter-of-factly, “My wife and I hate each other.” His smile widens at your flabbergasted expression. “Always did. It’s best that way, more…efficient. Of course, there was a time, when we had…passion.” He licks his lips, something you can’t pinpoint flickering in his gaze. “But not anymore. She’s far too gone for that.”

He rises from his chair. You stiffen as he circles the desk, making slow steps towards you.

“Which is why I must…satiate my needs wherever I can,” he mumbles, fingers lurking under your chin, forcing your eyes to fall upon him. “Do you understand my meaning, dove?”

“I…yes.”

Discomfort flares within you. Tension hangs in the air, so heavy it clogs your airways.

He cocks his head, lips slanting crookedly.

“Do you really? With that innocent look in your eyes, it’s hard to tell.” His thumb sweeps over your shuddering bottom lip. “Men have needs. And am I not a man, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes you are, sir.”

He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “You saw everything that day, didn’t you?” Your heart stops.

Flames lick your face as you bow your head. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

His warm breath ghosts over your earshell.

“Liar,” he mumbles.

Your pulse quickens.

He leans back and nudges your chin upward.

“Since my wife fell sick, I’ve been very lonely. And sometimes…” He looms over you, crowding your space as you peer up at him, fingers squeezing the arms of the chair. “I need something soft and warm to forget that feeling.”

President Snow slowly falls to his knees in front of you. His fingers find your thigh, starting to creep under your skirt. A devilish glint sparkles in his cobalt gaze. He finds your center, pressing the sheer fabric into your folds. You gasp. He chuckles at your reaction. He starts teasing you through your panties, tracing your slit and dragging over your tender bud. Your breath hitches as the air around you grows hotter. You grow slick beneath his finger, your thighs shaking as tingles bloom on your flesh.

“Sir…” you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes.

He pushes further inside you, adding another finger, and you unleash an audible breath. You try to close your thighs. He places his other hand on your knee to keep you open for him.

The air in your lungs grows thinner as he rubs your core through your soaked panties. The friction is a delicious torture. Pleasure pools in your belly causing your face to burn with shame. You’re getting embarrassingly wet with President Snow’s attention.

“I just want a little taste,” he murmurs, his deep timbre bleeding lust. “Just one time and it’ll never happen again,” he promises fervently as his lips graze your ankle. You find some relief when his fingers disappear from your drenched center. But your respite is ephemeral. He slips his hands under your ass and tugs at your panties.

Panic widens your eyes. Cheeks ablaze, you pull at the material between your legs with both hands. But he’s stronger than you and effortlessly drags the fabric along your legs. A wicked smile plays on his lips as tears glisten in your eyes. It’s soon down to your ankles. You squeal when the president yanks the panties off your foot, tossing them aside. Cool air sneaks beneath your skirt, swirling over your bare folds.

Hands over your knees to keep you spread, his wolfish gaze sweeps over your glossy folds.

Your skin heats, embarrassment gathering in your chest. You’ve never been this vulnerable and exposed in front of anybody before.

“Please, President Snow, s-stop…”

“But you’re dripping, sweetheart,” he states smugly, sinking a finger inside your weeping core, as if to make a point. Your breath hitches. He takes his finger out sluggishly. You clench when he grazes one of your sensitive spots. “Just as sweet as I expected,” he hums, obscenely licking your essence off his long digit.

Without a warning, he buries his head between your thighs. A sharp exhale leaps from your mouth. His cool tongue traces a wet trail over your folds. President Snow traces maddening patterns over your swollen bud causing your eyes to roll back.

You card your fingers through his silken platinum locks, hoping to push his head away. But the delightful sensations grow too overwhelming. You unravel beneath his sinful ministrations, your limbs twitching as the thread of your thoughts comes loose.

Your grip on his hair weakens. Your belly tightens, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

You jolt as his tongue flickers over your tender heap of nerves.

“P-President…”

He purrs against your folds and the vibrations rock through your core. You squirm in the chair. Your thighs quake. Your vision dims, your mind blank as waves of pleasure swaddle you in their tide. Protests scatter on your tongue, replaced by wanton whimpers and moans.

Electricity ripples through your spine as you cry out.

Bliss engulfs you and your legs turn liquid. Shame swirls in your gut as your juices coat his tongue. He drinks your nectar, elation rumbling in his chest.

When he lifts his head, you hardly recognize him. The feral glow in his gaze chills your blood.

There is no time to collect yourself, realize what just occurred, as the blonde gathers your limp frame from the chair and places you on his desk. Documents and papers are flung to the ground as he grabs your thighs and presses his throbbing hard-on against your cunt.

He hastily unbuttons his pants, freeing his hard length. He fists his cock and guides it through your wet entrance. Your back arches, the sudden intrusion robbing you of air. He reaches the hilt of you in a few seconds, giving you no time to accommodate his thick girth. You collapse over the desk, weak whimpers leaving you as your walls are stretched to their limit. He drags out of you, his pupils flaring as they trace the motion of his length in and out of you. Coriolanus leans over you. He snaps his pelvis into your hips, each of his thrusts tearing tearful moans from your throat.

When you turn your head, hot tears flowing down your cheeks, he grabs your chin so you’re forced to meet his lustful stare. Bracing himself on the desk, he reaches between your bodies to pinch your swollen clit. He plucks at your soft bud until you shatter around him with a sob. His throat bobs, a look of sheer bliss flitting across his face when you clench around him.

“I’ve been dying to fuck you the minute I saw you,” he confesses, trailing soft pecks over your collarbone. A sinister chuckle peals from his lips. “The way you looked at me with those sweet, innocent eyes…it made me rock-hard.” He tilts your chin towards him, his thumb skimming over your parted lips.

Satisfaction glimmers in his eyes as they flick over your prone form.

“You should thank me. Those boys at the Academy wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you…” His cock twitches inside you. Sticky warmth spills from him, painting your walls and dripping past your hole. Drops of his seed leak onto the desk. A throaty sigh pours from President Snow’s throat as your cunt flutters around him.

His teeth nip the skin of your neck.

“...But I do.”

After what occurs in his office, you hope to avoid President Snow. Those hopes are swiftly dashed however. President Snow lied to you. It doesn’t happen once. In fact, you begin to lose count of the actual number.

Every time the president finds a little spare time, he summons you.

Sometimes you end up bent over the desk in his office as he pours the frustrations of the day into your warm hole. Sometimes he prefers you sprawled on your back in one of the multitude of luxurious beds in the mansion while he devours you as if you were his very last meal. And at times, he grows even more impatient and simply shoves you against a wall before ravaging you.

More than once, a maid or footman has walked in on the two of you, and you’ve had to swallow your shame and embarrassment.

As you’ve come to learn, the entire staff is aware of Coriolanus Snow’s insatiable appetite and none of them seems to care.

You feel sick, desperate, trapped in something twisted and awful you never signed up for.

But how does one say no to President Coriolanus Snow? The entire Capitol yields to his every whim. And you are the same. Here to bow and smile and lie back whenever he demands it.

You long to focus on your job, to care for Martius and nothing else. Whenever the boy looks up at you with those innocent blue eyes, eerily similar to his father’s, your stomach wrenches. You pray he never comes to learn what kind of man his father is. You wish he’d stay just as kind and sweet as he is now.

Those are the thoughts drifting through your mind as you watch Martius play with his toy trains. Your eyes wander towards the window. Outside, orange and purple hues are bleeding into the sky, the afternoon nearing its end. Your stomach coils. It’s during times like these that President Snow often seeks you out. You’ve tried to run away from him but it’s all a game to Coriolanus, and he always delights in chasing you through the hallways.

Your brows crumple as you note that Martius has stopped playing. He drops his toy and rushes to your side. Confounded by his behavior, you’re on the cusp of asking him what’s wrong…but your gaze follows what caught his attention on the other side of the room.

You fall silent, your eyes rounding in shock.

“Martius. Come here, my love,” says the blonde woman in a white robe and nightgown, her arms wide open.

Time stands still for a few seconds. It takes you a while to realize who stands before the door. She looks so different, more ghost than woman, her glassy blue eyes hollow and sunken. But her likeness is unmistakable. Even with her graying, limp tresses and ashen complexion, you recognize Livia Cardew. The president’s wife.

You bolt to your feet. Arms still open, Livia takes slow steps towards Martius.

“I’m your mom, sweetie. Don’t you remember me?”

The little boy’s fists clutch your skirt as he hides his face against your leg.

“You’re not my mom.”

A stricken look twists Livia’s features as she shrinks. As if her own son just drove a knife through her heart. Your chest twinges. While her abrupt appearance is a shock, you can’t imagine how she must feel. You place a hand on Martius’ back and try to nudge him forward.

“Martius. It’s the First Lady, your mother. Go on, hug her,” you urge softly.

He shakes his head, tears filling his eyes as he hides behind you even more.

You’re stunned. Has it truly been that long?

“Martius-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, Livia lunging at you, her eyes wild with fury.

“You! This is all your fault,” she hisses. She points at you and scoffs, “You’re his new whore, aren’t you?” Her mouth wobbles as she grips her head. “First you take my husband, now my son.”

Martius begins to sob. His loud cries overlap with his mother’s frantic yelling. You cover his eyes, tossing Livia an apologetic look.

“First Lady, I never meant-”

Before you can explain yourself, she grabs a nearby vase and smashes it. White roses scatter on the floor. Stomping all over the petals and broken glass, she collects one of the shards and races towards you. Terror numbs you. You freeze as Livia aims the shard at you, scarlet droplets dripping on her nightgown as she squeezes her fist around the glass.

Your eyes shut as you wait for the inevitable strike.

You shiver, waiting still.

But it doesn’t come.

“Livia, darling, that’s enough. It’s time for you to sleep and take your medicine.”

The familiar sound of Coriolanus’ voice causes your eyes to snap open.

You watch him restrain a struggling Livia. She curses at him, fighting him with all her might. It’s a painful spectacle.

“No, don’t touch me!” Other staff members rush into the room. It takes several people to hold Livia down, colorful expletives pouring from her mouth as she punches and kicks whoever comes close. “You’re killing me! You bastard! Give me my son back! Martius! Martius!”

The child trembles against your skirt, his tear-filled gaze stuck to the floor.

Eventually someone manages to stick a needle into Livia’s neck. She instantly goes limp, arm still reaching for her son in her last conscious second.

“Take her away,” Coriolanus instructs.

The first lady’s flaccid form is dragged out of the room. Still shaken by what you just witnessed, you don’t move a muscle. President Snow approaches you, worry swimming in his blue orbs.

“Are you alright, dove?” He cups your cheeks, his brows crumpling as his gaze settles on your neck. “I’ll have Doctor Gaul look at you. She has an ointment for that.” He caresses your cheeks, smiling. You gape at him. How can he smile at a time like that? “It won’t even scar. I promise.”

You graze your neck. Your fingers come away bloody. Oh. Livia nicked you with the shard but you didn’t even feel it. Perhaps adrenaline numbed you to the pain.

“Dada,” Martius chimes, lifting his chubby arms.

Coriolanus’ face warms as he picks up his son. He tosses him in the air and catches him. Martius giggles through his tears.

“My sweet boy. That was very scary, wasn’t it?” he says, balancing his son on his hip. Martius nods and wipes his nose. Coriolanus flicks his cheek, beaming at him. “Don’t worry, son. The scary lady won’t bother you anymore in a few months.”

A wave of ice blows through your veins. You wonder why the president uttered those words with such certainty. Like a promise. Or a prophecy. Almost as if he knows exactly when the grim reaper will come knock on his wife’s door.

The next day, you hand over your resignation to Pandora. Her expression is skeptical as she gauges the manila folder you give her.

“This is for the president,” you announce.

She unleashes a deep exhale. “You should reconsider, sleep on it.”

You almost laugh. Sleep on it? You can hardly find rest, the picture of a disheveled Livia Cardew crying out for her son haunting your nights. Whatever befell upon the poor woman, you wouldn’t be surprised if her husband somehow had a hand in it. It broke your heart, seeing her like that, her own son unable to recognize her. You also despise the role Coriolanus forced you to play in erasing her memory.

All of it feels wrong.

And most of all, you don’t want President Snow to use you to satisfy his lewd desires anymore. He took all your firsts, all the moments that should have been beautiful, and made them a nightmare you have to relive every time he touches you.

You respected him; you admired him. Now you can’t be in his presence without dread whispering through you. What will he make you do this time? How will he make you small and powerless again?

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. He can hire someone else to care for him.”

Pandora purses her lips and shakes her head.

“It’s really not that simple. The president has developed…a fondness for you.”

You bristle. “I have to go back home. Laertes is expecting me.”

“You won’t like what comes next, trust me.” Her gaze narrows. “No one leaves the president.”

Ignoring the shudder elicited by her daunting words, you pivot and make a beeline towards the exit. Pandora’s voice echoes down the hallways.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Depleted, you glumly make your way to the gates. You enter the car that takes you back home everyday. Your thoughts wander as the Snow’s house grows smaller through the car window. You were thrilled when you got this job. It felt like kismet after the year you and your brother had. A rainbow after the rain. A slice of hope.

How it all went to hell so quickly. You’re still reeling from it. You’ve no idea what you’ll do next. The only thing you know for certain is that you will not step foot into the Snows’ estate ever again.

The car suddenly halts. You bump your head into the passenger’s seat. Wincing, you grip the sides of your head. As you retrieve your senses, you look around. You stopped.

You toss a questioning look at the driver.

But before he can respond, the car door opens and you’re yanked outside. Two pairs of strong arms drag you away from the car.

You take in the blue uniforms of the men. Terror pulses through your blood.

Peacekeepers.

Noting the guns at their sides, you stop trying to resist. There’s no fighting against them, ever. They are the Capitol’s fist and carry the President’s will. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you likely never did. You slump in their grip, despair thrumming inside you.

They escort you to a black car with tinted windows. Your pulse soars. You’ve only ever seen one individual step out of this car.

The peacekeepers toss you inside and slam the door shut.

Your fearful gaze rises to him.

He casually sits in front of you, his eyes narrowed.

“You disappoint me, dove.” He lets out a weary sigh. “After everything I’ve done for you…you try to leave me. I thought you were smarter than that.”

You twine your hands, sputtering, “I-I’m not the right person for this job, sir.”

He slides his fingers under your chin, tilting it upward.

“Oh but you’re perfect. My son loves you. You’re sweet, dutiful and most importantly…” He smirks. “You are mine. Mine to hold, spoil and fuck whenever I please for however long I please.”

The prospect fills you with dread. He wants you to be his toy again, submissive, available whenever he pleases.

“Sir…”

His jaw ticks, his hold on your jaw tightening.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if your brother could attend the University, free of charge? A bright young mind such as his, I believe he deserves it.” His blue eyes twinkle. “Instead of, let’s say…end up in a District, his name chosen as a tribute in the next Hunger Games.” Your heart sinks to your feet. “That’d be awful, wouldn’t it? So cruel…” he mumbles, stroking your trembling bottom lip.

“No, please,” you beseech, tears swelling in your eyes. Your brother’s all you have left in the world. Nothing can happen to him.

Coriolanus fondles your cheek, the tender gesture a sharp contrast to the wicked words rolling off his tongue.

“It’s all up to you, then, dove. As long as you behave, I’ll give you the world. But if you act like a little brat again…” A threat lurks in his soft tone, a glint of madness swaying in his cobalt orbs. “I really don’t know what I might do.”

Chills dance over your spine.

“I promise to never do it again,” you blurt out.

He pulls out a square from his breast pocket. It’s identical to the one he used the first time.

But a lifetime seems to have passed since that moment, the world now so different from what you imagined, and the man before you…even more so.

“Good girl,” he lauds while swiping away your tears.

He shoves the pocket square back in its place. Coriolanus then beams at you as he starts unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his pants.

“Now, I’ve had a long, exhausting day. So how about you get on your knees for me and make it better with that sweet mouth of yours, dove?”

#dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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uzurakis · 1 month

Text

THEIR ACT OF INTIMACY!

featuring: geto suguru. megumi fushiguro. itadori yuuji. nanami kento.

n. a sign of them being very comfortable with you. slighty suggestive in itadori’s part. PART 2 HERE :0

GETO SUGURU. suguru finds it aggravating when the others try to mess up his hair, with the exception of you. after the relationship evolved, you'd sit on the bed with him after he showered and brush the large tangles out of his hair. other times, you might put it up in a bun or another style when he isn't looking. you spend that quiet time talking and enjoying one other's company.

in the quiet of your shared space, suguru sat on the edge of the bed, fresh from the shower, his damp hair a tangle of knots. you approached him with a gentle smile, brush in hand. “you know the rule," suguru said with a hint of playfulness, though his eyes softened at the sight of you. “i know, i know," you replied, taking a seat beside him. "this is a condition comes with me being your girlfriend. i got to brush your hair and you get to play mine.”

as you carefully detangled his hair, the room filled with the sound of your voices, sharing stories and laughter. with each stroke of the brush, suguru felt a sense of calm wash over him, grateful for this quiet moment with you.

once his hair was finally smooth and manageable, you surprised him by styling it into a loose bun, eliciting a surprised gasp from suguru as he caught sight of his reflection. “you did it again, didn't you?" he said, pretending to scold you, though his eyes twinkled with affection. you simply smiled and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "i can't help it. i love making you look even more handsome."

ITADORI YUUJI. itadori enjoys lying and lounging about naked together. it feels like complete vulnerability, with no walls between you, resyncing your relationship as you melt into each other's body. he has a habit of writing something on your skin as a game in which you have to guess what he wrote down. other times, he simply likes to nap in the afternoon while you tell him a story in bed.

lounging comfortably in your bed, naked and unguarded, itadori traced lazy patterns on your skin with his touch sending shivers down your spine. "guess what i wrote this time," he whispered, his finger leaving a trail of invisible words on your back. you chuckled softly, leaning into his touch. "hmm, let me think..."

as you concentrated, trying to decipher his secret message, itadori pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his warmth enveloping you entirely. then finally, you ventured a guess, feeling his smile against your skin as you spoke the words aloud.

"wrong," he teased, his laughter mingling with yours. “you gotta get it right next time, babe. or else i’ll bite your thighs again.”

with each lighthearted round of the game, the barriers between you appeared to dissolve, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection to be felt.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO. megumi has a difficult time opening up to others, and you were the one who showed him that it is acceptable to talk about what he feels together. you understood that him speaking meaningful words in a serious manner to you puts a toll on his ego; not that he doesn’t care, he just wasn't used to it. what surprises you is how effortlessly he drops those words only in the spur of the moment, as if he hasn't been fighting to say them all along. he also brings up topics you've already discussed and gives every single penny of thought to conversations that deepen feelings between the both of you.

in the quiet of the evening, megumi sat beside you, his expression guarded as always. you both were doing your homework together and then, in a moment that took you by surprise, he spoke, his words flowing effortlessly.

"i care about you," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "more than i can put into words."

"why so suddenly?" you asked, surprised by the unexpected confession. the man paused, his expression earnest as he searched for the right words. "i.. just feel you need to hear them from me." he replied, his voice gentle yet resolute. “sorry..”

you could feel your heart swelling with emotion, touched by the sincerity in his words. "thank you, i care about you too, ‘gumi” you whispered, feeling the weight of his feelings enveloping you like a warm embrace. "i like it when you talk about what you're feeling, you know.” you said gently, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from his face.

you knew that megumi's words had transcended the barriers he had once struggled to break through. and as you leaned in to press a tender kiss to his lips, you realized that sometimes, the most meaningful words are the ones spoken from the heart, even if they come unexpectedly.

NANAMI KENTO. nanami believes there is nothing better than a massage after a long and tiring day. he believes that the best massages are those that he earns without having to ask for them; you just knew he needed one and vice versa.

nanami trudged through the door, weary from the demands of the day. you greeted him with a warm smile, sensing the weight on his shoulders without a word spoken. "rough day?" you asked, already moving towards him with a knowing look. nanami nodded, sinking into their embrace. "you have no idea."

without hesitation, you guided him to the couch and began to knead away the tension that had settled in his muscles. "this is exactly what i needed," the man sighed, feeling the knots slowly unraveling beneath your touch.

you smiled softly, your fingers working with practiced ease. "i could tell. you always carry so much on your shoulders."

as the stress of the day melted away, he found himself falling even more deeply in love with the one who cared for him so effortlessly.

@uzurakis

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cherrieflavouredheadcanons · 4 months

Note

Sorry to send you another request, but I just got hit with this sudden brainrot:

Could I get short headcanons of how the dorm leaders would do for the orange peel theory?

I was so into writing this, that I accidentally made it with the overblot gang (aka Jamil and not Kalim) and didn’t notice until I was done😭. I hope that’s okay, but if you want a Kalim one (or any others) just send in another request! Also these ended up way longer than i intended... But I hope you all enjoy them nontheless!

Orange peel theory

Characters: Overblot gang CW: None, just fluff, established relationships, Reader is the prefect

Riddle Rosehearts

You and Riddle were studying together, or rather, he was studying and you pretended to study as you were looking at the oranges on the desk.

Whenever you studied together Riddle places a bowl of fruits on the table for you two to snack on, they were usually always strawberries and many other berries but today an Orange was included.

You remembered a trend from your world where people would ask their partners to peel an orange for them and it would show if they were willing to do small things for them, you smiled as you realised you finally had someone to test said theory out on.

Taking the orange into your hand you looked at it, and then at Riddle thinking for a moment before holding it out to him.

“Riddle, can you peel this for me please?”

The housewarden had been so focused on his studying that he got surprised when you asked him something, once he realised what you had asked he raised an eyebrow quietly wondering to himself why you couldn't do it yourself.

But he was raised to be a gentleman, and he honestly loved doing small things for you so he nodded and carefully peeled the fruit for you, making you smile.

Once you got the peeled fruit back you were amazed by how careful he peeled it, no white skin was seen anywhere anymore, and the pieces were all nicely separated.

Leona Kingscholar

Sitting in his room you stared at the Lion beastman laying on his bed, you knew he wasn’t sleeping yet by the way his tail flickered but he certainly was about to.

Ace had dared you to try the orange peel theory on Leona, more specifically try it when he was about to sleep and you agreed for some reason you can’t remember. He had given you an orange before you went to Savanaclaw to spend the night in Leona’s room.

“Hey…Leona?” Your voice was quiet as you asked, looking at your tired boyfriend.

“...mhm?” Well…at least he acknowledged you calling out to him. “...can you peel this orange for me?”

He lazily opened one eye, looking at you. “Can’t you do it yourself Herbivore?” His voice had a teasing tone in it, but he didn’t move a muscle.

You visibly deflated, granted you had expected such an outcome but still, it was kinda disappointing.

Leona sighed once he saw you looking disappointed and sat up. “Hand over the orange.” You perked up as soon you heard it and handed it over with a smile.

He peeled it and then gave you the orange along with the peels back. “Never ask me for anything again.” He said as he laid back down, but you knew he wasn’t serious. “Also come sleep with me once you eat your damn orange.”

His peeling job wasn't the best, and there was a lot of the white skin left on the orange and the pieces weren’t separated, but you were flattered that he still did it. And of course you cuddled up to him once you ate it.

Azul Ashengrotto

Sitting in the Mostro Lounge you were eating from a fruit platter Azul had brought you, a blush on his face as he sat it down in front of you.

Just as you were about to take a strawberry from it, Floyd suddenly put an Orange on it. “Heey Shrimpy, I have heard of this trend that couples do involving an orange and I wanna see you try it on Azul!”

You knew what trend he was talking about and were confused why he wanted you to try it on Azul, but he refused to say the reason at least until you actually did it. Knowing Floyd, you knew he would keep pestering you until you did.

Sighing, you grabbed the orange and made your way to Azul’s office as Floyd cheered you on.

Walking into the office you saw him working on some contracts. “Hey, Azul? Floyd gave me an Orange for my fruit platter, but it’s not peeled so could you maybe do it for me?”

Poor Azul did not expect you to suddenly be in his office, he got so scared he choked on his spit for a second, looking at you like you were a ghost.

“Angelfish! You can’t just come in here with no warning and scare me like that!” You did not say anything in return instead you held out the orange to him and looked at him expectedly.

“Expecting me to peel you an orange without me getting anything back? How preposterous” He had a blush on his face as he took the orange out of your hands, peeling it nonetheless. You smiled knowing he didn’t need you to give him anything back for peeling it. He handed you the peeled orange back, and you kissed his cheek as a thanks making the poor octopus blush even harder.

His peeling job was immaculate, with how well it was peeled you could think a robot did it, and of course he separated the pieces for you as well.

Jamil Viper

Sitting in the Scarabia lounge you were waiting for Jamil to come back from cooking a meal for Kalim, you wanted to join him and help him but he refused saying you should just wait in the lounge. You were scrolling through Magictok to pass the time a bit faster

As you sit there scrolling you notice the fruit basket sitting there. You remembered Kalim telling you that you can just grab whatever they are there to be eaten after all.

That's when you come across a video talking about the orange peel theory, you see people explain it and also try it out.

Not only does it make you crave an orange, but it also makes you wanna try the theory on Jamil. But you knew he had much on his plate already, having to make every meal for Kalim, so you decided against it. You were pretty sure that Jamil would do it if you asked him anyways.

You put your phone aside and go to grab an orange from the basket, looking for the best one. (They are all of the highest quality since Kalim brought them). Grabbing a nice big one you want to start peeling it.

That’s when suddenly it gets snatched out your hand, looking up to see who took your orange, ready to lecture them you see its Jamil. Wordlessly he starts peeling it.

You look at him confused, when did he come in and how did you not notice it? He could have said something at least instead of scaring you by snatching your orange. If he wanted one you would have given him one!

Just as you were about to ask him why he took your orange away and began peeling it himself, he held out a perfectly peeled piece to you, making you even more confused. “What? You wanted an orange right?" He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as you smiled at him and took the piece, as he continued peeling the rest of the orange for you and giving you piece by piece. You didn’t even have to ask him for it, which made you smile, thinking to yourself that you had in fact won the orange peel theory

Vil Schoenheit

He had invited you to his room for a self care night between the two of you. Skincare haircare and everything, of course all prepared by him. He can’t have you use the basic drug store products can he?

You sit in front of him, smiling as he carefully applies a cream to your face, his touch lightly tickling you. He scolds you for moving, but you can hear there is a slight smile in his voice.

As he applies the cream you realise it smells like oranges, which reminds you that you and Epel once talked about how Vil would do regarding the orange peel theory. Maybe now was a good time to try it out?

“Viiil…?” You ask in the most innocent voice you can. He doesn’t answer, instead he looks at you and raises one of his perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Do you think…you could peel me an orange?”

“Darling, it is nearly time for bed. I don’t know if an orange now is such a good-” He couldn’t finish his sentence as he saw how you gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

With a sigh he got up and said “Fine, but only if you promise to brush your teeth right after so we can go to bed, I am not sacrificing my 8 hours of sleep just because you want an Orange.” And with that he left for the Pomefiore kitchen.

Giddily you sat on his bed, texting Epel the result of the orange peel theory, poor Epel was so shocked that his housewarden agreed to peel you an orange so short before his sleep time.

Before you could answer anything back to the first year, Vil came back in the room with orange slices on a platter.

The slices were peeled beautifully, and rearranged symmetrical next to each other. Just as you were about to grab the plate, Vil pulled it out of your range and gave you a sly smirk. He picked a slice up and held it to your mouth, obviously alluding that he would feed them to you which made you flustered.

Idia Shroud

You and him were in his room having a gaming session together. Though you needed a short break so you let Idia play alone for a bit.

Sitting on his bed, you sipped some water just silently watching your boyfriend, thinking about your relationship and smiling at the many small things he does for you.

Well small to everyone else, but you knew how much it scares him to do some things, so those ‘small’ gestures meant the world to you.

As you were thinking about small gestures, you remembered the orange theory and thought why not try it on your boyfriend? It wouldn’t prove anything, whether he said yes or no, he proved enough that he would do small things for you, but you wanted to do it for fun.

“Hey Idia?” You called out to him, waiting for a sign from him that he had heard you. Still looking at his screen he gave you an affirmative nod and asked “What’s up?”

“I kinda feel like an orange.” You said, looking at him expectantly to see what he would say next. You could see him stop his movements both in real life and in game which concerned you. “...Idia..?” Pausing the game he slowly turned around and looked at you, a confused look on his face.

“...like…emotionally?” He asked in the most serious and confused tone you could imagine.

You could tell from his face he was sincere when he asked and wasn’t messing with you. For a second you could not believe what he had asked you, it felt surreal. But then you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. You wanted to say something but your laughter stopped you from doing so, instead you fell backwards on his bed, laughter never dying.

Idia now was even more confused, why were you laughing? That's when he realised what you actually meant, and began blushing furiously, his hair now a shade of pink. He wanted to crawl in a hole and die, but…if you really wanted an orange (and promised not to mention it to anyone ever) he would peel you one…

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had invited you to a meeting of the Gargoyle Research society (as if those meetings aren’t just him walking alone through the school). And of yours you agreed.

He was holding your hand as he led you along the school grounds, telling you facts about all the different Gargoyles.

You listened intently, smiling at him and asking him questions every now and then to show him you were interested in what he was telling you, which made him happy and tell you more enthusiastically.

Though at one point you began craving some food, which got you to thinking, how would your boyfriend react to the orange peel theory? You couldn’t imagine him denying you an orange, but you also couldn’t see him peel one? Maybe it was because of his royal status..

“Hey Hornton?” You asked him and he looked into your eyes, his gaze gentle. “Yes, my child of man?” “Do you think you could get me and peel me an orange? I am kinda craving one…”

He looked surprised at first and then began quietly laughing “Fufufu..I already knew you were special, yet here you are proving it once again, asking the future king of Briar Valley to prepare you some food.” He closed his eyes and smiled “Just wait here my dear and I will fetch you what you want”

You smiled at him and nodded, and he teleported away, only leaving his firefly like lights behind.

Sitting down on a bench you waited for him to come teleport in front of you again. But when he was gone for nearly 10 minutes you slightly began to worry…did Lilia somehow end up cooking something once he learned you wanted some food and Malleus wanted to save you from it? Or was-

Just as you were about to keep thinking about it, Malleus appeared back in front of you…With a massive bowl full of orange slices in it. You gawked at the sheer amount, how was one human supposed to eat all of that? “Child of man, I did not know how many you wanted, so I told Sebek to fetch me every Orange he could find, and then peeled them all by myself.” He was so proud of himself, that you couldn’t help but smile but still wondered what to do with that many Oranges…maybe some of the other first years would want them?

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #leona kingscholar x reader

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klausysworld · 4 months

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Hi could you write some angst about a deeply insecure reader who hates her appearance and is sort of friends with Elena and everyone(pushed to the side kind of relationship)but when klaus comes around it’s clear that she has a crush but believes he’s out of her league then klaus uses it to his advantage by showing an interest in her for information and helps her with her self worth.klaus then starts to develop feelings for her but then it’s revealed that he was just manipulating her and reader is devastated and utterly humiliated and it sets her back to how she was before him.(sorry if that was a really long explanation,you can decide the ending)thanks I love your writing btw

Real

Growing up in Mystic Falls is a bizarre experience.

There were town events almost every month where you had to dress up and act better than everyone, parents basically had a competition over who had the prettiest daughters or the most handsome sons.

Not my parents.

They didn't think I was good enough to even pretend that I could compete. I was told my worth from a young age and became more aware of it with time. When your own parents don't think you're good enough it's sort of an eye-opener if you will.

It didn't help that everyone in this town seemed to be born into modelling.

Somehow I was lucky enough to wind up 'friends' with people like Elena, Caroline and Bonnie but I knew I didn't belong with them. Somehow they were gorgeous enough to get whatever they wanted.

Sometimes I wondered if everyone else at the age of 17 looked like them and I was behind or if somewhere, I was above average. I doubted it. A lot.

Occasionally I would look at a mirror and think that I wasn't even that bad to look at. There was nothing particularly ugly about me, there just wasn't anything special. I looked plain in a way, bland and forgettable.

I was very forgettable actually. My 'friends' made that abundantly clear throughout the years when they would go out without me or forget to ask if I also wanted something or liked something.

Somehow I was of no value to them. Perhaps I was simply there to amplify their beauty. Like a DUFF. I was definitely the DUFF.

Damon actually told me that I was once, after Tyler had made the joke and Damon asked what it meant. Even though I already knew it to be true, to be told it was much worse.

You could sort of tell everyone else was thinking it, especially when I was stood beside Caroline.

Stefan was the only one who was nice but I wasn't sure if it was out of pity or just because that was who he was. Then again, I'd rather just not know.

So I tried my best to keep in the background, avoid attention and stay out the way.

Even with all the vampire and werewolf drama that took course, I kept myself quiet and to the side. Strangely it was Katherine who was kind to me, whether she had an ulterior motif I'm not so sure anymore but she never hurt me in the time she was there. Neither did Elijah when he came to town, he was polite to everyone but it was obvious that my presence was irrelevant to him.

And then of course, Klaus arrived.

I didn't officially meet him until the senior prank night, he sort of just threw to the side and told me to keep my mouth closed and not to bother running because he'd just kill me. Part of me thought about running anyway so he would just end it but I didn't.

Klaus dragged me by my wrist into his car, told me to keep quiet while he drove Elena to the hospital. For whatever reason he brought me along and left me in the car as he went to drain her of blood for his hybrids. I did as told: sat silently and waited.

He came back out and spoke to Damon for a moment, I saw them glance over in my direction only for Damon to laugh and smirk. I sighed to myself and got out the car. It was clear that Klaus thought I could be a good pawn but was surly mistaken and Damon told him to do whatever he wanted to me. In response I walked home, neither noticed so it was fine.

A week or so later he came back, crashed homecoming or something? I dunno, I wasn't there but I was told about it the next day via a stroppy Caroline.

It was that same day that he came and sat beside me at the grill. I ignored him for the most part, confused by his attempt at what I could only guess was flirting? I wasn't really sure. I think he could tell.

"Not easily impressed are you love?" he questioned as he leant forward, uncomfortably close. I sort of just looked at him, still unsure to what he wanted. A smirk pulled at the end of his lips and his hand lifted, his fingers wrapping around a piece of my hair making frown and pull away abruptly. Without hesitation I stood up and spun on my heel, going to leave. His laugh followed me and a hand grabbed my waits, it was stange.

"Calm down love, It's not like I was going to rip it out, I just wondered what it felt like" he chuckled, pulling my back flush against his front making me tense and squirm.

"It feels like hair" I stated simply "Now get off" I grunted, shoving my elbow into his side to make him let go. I kept walking, keeping my eyes on the ground.

The next time I saw him he apologised for the previous encounter which again, i didn't understand but there was no point in questioning and arguing so I just accepted it and tried to leave but he asked if I'd stay for one drink, he asked so nicely and he smiled. I was stupid enough to think it was genuine and accepted.

Looking back it was pretty obvious that this was a game for him or a trap, whatever you want to label it but in the moment I ignored what was right in my face. Deep down I knew it was all a joke of sorts really.

But no boy, let alone a man had shown me this sort of attention and the soft fluttering it made me feel had me staying for far too long. I listened to his little stories and asked a range of questions as the drinks kept coming. He asked a couple about me but i gave relatively vague answers. There wasn't much I had to give him on me, I wasn't up for a pity party about friends and I didn't really fancy talking about my shitty parents either. I think Klaus picked up on the fact that I didn't really want to talk about me and eventually gave up with it.

It was late when I realised I needed to get home and he offered to take me which I admit made me wary. I didn't want him to kidnap me and think I'd be any good as leverage again, though I guess Damon made that pretty clear already. I decided to just walk home which he eventually accepted and got into his car.

Walking by myself probably wasn't my best option after drinking so much in one go but I made it home with minimal stumbling. My mother shook her head when she saw me and asked what was wrong with me. When she realised I had been drinking her mind jumped to two very different conclusions. The first being that I was being a slut which was ironic as in the past she'd made it clear that no guy would want to sleep with me, and the second being that I had taken pills to kill myself.

Listening to her drastic thinking made me wonder what kind of pills she was on but I didn't question it and waited for my father to come and take her to bed, telling her to just ignore me. Then I proceeded to make my way to the bathroom, getting changed and washing my face before going to my bed.

My phone dinged making me sigh, thinking it was Elena asking me to help her with something dumb and life threatening however much to my surprise it was Klaus. A smile involuntarily spread across my face and we messaged back and forth before he told me to rest.

The following few days he would just check in. Not too much but he also made it clear that he hadn't forgotten me which was all I had ever truly wanted from someone. To be acknowledged at the very least.

Of course I didn't tell the others that he had been talking to me, besides they didn't ask so I didn't see why I should. I guess I just wanted something for myself.

I wasn't completely stupid. I always had the feeling that he was using me, especially towards the start...but he was just so wonderful with his words and his ways.

When he began to make and buy sweet gifts and claim they were tokens of his affection, I couldn't help the blush on my face. When he would find a way to have his skin against mine, or how he would pick up my hand and gently tug my along. Somehow we always seemed to end up somewhere for food, and he would always refuse to let me pay.

Something about him was so enticing, addictive if you will.

He began to make me feel a certain way. He made me warm and happy. His touch was so soft, it made me feel like I was buzzing. i was stupid for thinking he could feel the same way about me.

I had been so scared to admit my feelings.

He had assured me that he would never push me to.

He told me that he liked me, that he didn't want me to be frightened of him or nervous around him. "Not unless it's the sort of nervous that puts butterflies in your stomach sweetheart" he had teased and my cheeks had glowed red.

Over the space of months his presence never lessoned. He always made time to see me, and speak with me. I found myself longing for his voice, his touch.

On days where he was too busy at home, he would urge me to come over. I would spend as long as I possibly could with him, a few times I even stayed over but he had slept on top of the duvet so that I would feel comfortable.

This had gone on for a small while until he actually said the words 'I love you'.

Perhaps I was just so happy to actually hear those words. Maybe I believed them to be true, real. Or I just saw what I wanted to see, heard what I wanted to hear and ignored the rest.

The time I gave myself to him used to make my smile and blush. Now it just makes me feel dirty, humiliated and embarrassed.

Knowing that he could and has had his hands all over my body, his lips and eyes. In the moment I felt like a goddess, probably because that’s what he told me I was. The memory of him inside me haunts me. I had thought it to be such a beautiful experience, romantic and personal.

I wish I could say that I had slept with him only once but as the months went by we would share intimacy often.

I had even told him that I loved him, so many times and I meant it for all of them.

So you should understand why it was so hard to accidentally hear him tell his sister that he had been compelling me for any information on the others.

It had felt as though my heart had stopped when the words hit my ears and tears already made my eyes burn. I heard a weak laugh and turned my head to see Damon, strung up by chains whilst bleeding all over, looking straight back at me.

“Y/n…” I heard Klaus’s voice, his tone one of panic or maybe it was just surprise. He probably didn’t want me to know of his routine. Damon only rolled his eyes and gave me look,

“You didn’t…think it was real, right?” He coughed, a cruel smile on his face.

His words just made me quieter. They made me think. Why did I think it was real?

My eyes slowly lifted to meet Klaus’s. I could see and feel Rebekah looking at me, everyone was silent. Even Damon shut up for a second. I think maybe he was expecting me to say something but I didn’t really have anything to tell him.

As awful as it all made me feel, and even with the amount of emotions swallowing me, I felt more disappointed in myself than I did him.

My right hand went to my left arm, pinching my skin through my jumper in some sort of hope that I’d wake up from some stupid nightmare but it didn’t work.

The first tear fell from my eye and I sniffed to keep the other ones from coming.

Klaus just looked at me, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, I didn’t want to know either. I could just guess anyway.

So without a word I just turned around and left, walking quickly back out the door before breaking into a sprint in the direction of my house. I could feel the mascara running down my face, ruining the foundation I had only recently started wearing, for Klaus’s benefit.

My hands wiped at the tears as I pushed my from door shut behind me and went upstairs, blocking out the annoyed voices of my parents and locking myself in my room.

It was only once I was in the shower that I was flooded with memories. That I remembered all the things I had done with him. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom my skin was scrubbed raw in an attempt to wash his touch away. Even the slightest touch made me feel as though my body was burning, stinging with pain but I would have rather felt that every day than have to realise Klaus had been using me for over a year now.

I was curled in my bed, hidden under the blankets and surrounded by the dark as I let every comment not matter how small or petty play back through my mind.

I wasn’t even sure who to be upset with. I chose myself.

Klaus must’ve known I was an easy target. Desperate. I wonder how much he’s had me tell him. To be fair I knew more than you’d expect about what was going on. I had gotten good at observing and overhearing so I still knew what was going on, even when spending so much time with Klaus himself.

I also wondered what else he had compelled me to do. I hoped he wouldn’t do anything other than ask questions but I couldn’t help that fear creep inside me. It made me sick to my stomach, and then I wondered if he would just wait to compel me again so that I could continue to be his information feeder.

The idea made my fingers dig into my arm, bruising the skin purple but I wouldn’t stop. I only did so that I could go get some vervain that I kept downstairs in one of the cupboards at the back. I was reaching for the little glass bottle when I heard a door close. I spun around quickly to see Klaus in the doorway of my kitchen. My hand clutched onto the vervain tightly and I noticed his eyes glance at it briefly. His hands went up as if to show no harm but there was no way I would believe that meant a thing.

“Sweetheart- listen to me..” he began and I let out a breathless laugh

“Get out” I whispered making him sigh and frown as though he had the audacity to be upset or annoyed.

“Y/n..”

“No Klaus. I’m fucking serious, get out.” I told him, my eyes watering again. I let out an involuntary whimper when he stepped forward making him stop and stand still.

“I never meant for you to know that” he whispered and I frowned, swiping a tear away.

“Sorry I ruined your plan” I mumble, exhausted.

“No- no I didn’t mean it like that- I meant that-“

“Klaus it’s fine” I murmur, avoiding his eye, “It’s fine, I get it. You needed to know what was happening, you got to be two steps ahead. I’d appreciate if you just found someone else now please”

I could feel his stare on me, it make my skin itch and I just needed him to go. I could feel my hand getting clammy as I held onto the bottle.

“I haven’t compelled you in such a long time” he muttered, as though maybe that made it better. “I used to, but I truly have fallen for you Y/n. I love-“

“Please get out” I cut him off, my spare hand resting on my forehead to cover my eyes.

“I love you”

“No you don’t” I cry, “you wouldn’t do this to someone you love. I know you don’t love me. You never have and you never could. You’re just pretending again so I’ll let you control me, I don’t like it” I whimper, tears streaming again. I could hear him getting closer but I was already against the counter and I couldn’t out run him. There was no point in trying.

“Sweetheart, I’ll never use you again-“ he tried to argue but I couldn’t listen to it.

“I really, really need you to leave. Please Klaus just get out, I can’t stand you” I tell him honestly and for a second as I look up at him, he looks almost sad but I have to assume it’s still apart of his act.

“You- you’re not going to do anything…anything harmful are you? To yourself, I mean.” He asked and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. I should never have told him that I’d had those thoughts or feelings once. I shouldn’t have ever said a word to him.

“No…now go away” I whisper, my hands trembling as I stared at the ground, listening to his footsteps eventually get further away.

I knew there was no way I could sleep, he was probably still outside my house. Waiting.

I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for but I could him there.

I had no idea what I was going to do.

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steddieas-shegoes · 6 months

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At ten years old, Eddie’s mama gets a raise at work just in time for Christmas. This is the same year Wayne works enough to set aside almost $200 for Eddie’s Christmas presents.

Eddie doesn’t know this, and he’s a kid who knows better than to expect more than a few things in his stocking and one or two “bigger gifts” -usually books or tapes- so it’s a surprise when his stocking is overflowing and there’s a huge box under the tree Christmas morning.

Even more surprising is that it’s labeled from Santa, and Eddie hasn’t believed in Santa for nearly three years despite everyone in his classes still believing. He bounces on his feet while he waits for Wayne to get his coffee, for his mama to finish making their special hot chocolate.

The year he gets his first guitar is also the year he finds out his mama can sing like a rock star.

It’s the year he finds out Wayne used to play bluegrass at a bar back home and probably could’ve made it big if he was willing to leave his sister.

It’s the year Eddie finds out he can play by ear and uses it to his advantage to learn all his favorite songs as soon as he figures out the chords.

And for years, he is quick to pull out his acoustic to learn something new, even when he manages to buy his electric with money from helping fix cars at the shop where his uncle’s friend works.

After he saves Hawkins, and his hands stop shaking enough for him to play, he asks Steve to bring his acoustic to the hospital so he can entertain himself. Steve shares a look with Wayne, then his mama.

“It, uh, didn’t survive…everything.”

Nothing broke his heart quite like hearing that.

He pretends it’s okay though, doesn’t want his mama and Wayne to feel worse than they already did about everything.

He tables his emotions until he’s alone that night, shortly after dinner when everyone goes home to get some rest before the next day of volunteering, and cleaning, and visiting.

He’s woken up in the middle of the night by the door opening, and even though the person coming in is trying to be quiet, the door creaks from the building settling funny during the “earthquake.”

“Steve?”

Steve turns and even in the dark, Eddie can see his blush.

He’s holding something.

Something big and guitar shaped.

“What have you done?”

Steve walks over to him and gently sets the guitar case in his lap.

Eddie opens it and sees a gently used acoustic with Eddie’s name now engraved on the side.

“Steve.”

“You can have nice things. You should have nice things. We don’t have many options right now, but at least you won’t get rusty.”

Eddie cried.

Steve held him.

And after Steve wiped his tears away and kissed his forehead—which was something they’d be talking about as soon as Eddie could focus on something other than the guitar in his lap— he played slower songs, songs that even Steve could recognize, until a nurse realized Steve was here past visiting hours and kicked him out.

When his mama saw it the next morning propped by his bed, she smiled knowingly.

“I see the boy followed through.”

“What?”

“He asked me all kinds of questions about guitars and what your old one looked like and if a used one would be okay. Don’t know how he found one so quick.”

“He’s pretty determined when he sets his mind to something.”

“I think he’s set his mind on you, baby.”

Eddie thought maybe she was right.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #wayne munson #mama Munson #headcanon #stranger things

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urfavleo777 · 7 months

Text

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, oral (m receiving), choking, hair pulling, fluff.

It was an October evening. The sun had long since set, causing all the streetlights to go out. Now, the moonlight shining through the window was the only light you could use to continue reading your favorite book.

Accompanied by the sound of rain, you devoured the pages of The Picture of Dorian Gray. With a sigh, you turned the next page. You were getting close to the end, which made you even more sadder. Your weak spot was your attachment to books and some people.

Specifically to one person.

“Baby?“ Your boyfriend's voice caught your attention. You put the book on the bedside table and bit your lip at the sight of your boyfriend standing in only his lovely pink pajama pants. “Are you still reading?”

“Oh..“ you sighed softly, completely dazed.

"Whoa, you alright?" Colby looked down at you, concerned on his face, "Y/n."

You shake your head slightly, "Yeah." You stand up straight, "You just.." You found a more comfortable position, "Look so beautiful tonight"

“Only tonight?” he laughed brilliantly, moving closer to the bed. Then he lay down and took you in his arms, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. You immediately forgot about the plot of the book that you were reading eagerly just moments ago.

You gently brushed his hair away and planted a kiss on his bare shoulder, only realizing you'd tickled him when you heard a small, muffled laugh come from the crook of your neck where Colby was resting his head.

During that quiet intimate moment the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your breaths and the sound of your kisses.

“Have I interrupted you in anything?“ he murmured dreamily, after a while.

“No, I was just reading.” You denied it immediately.

"I love you." He muttered as he gently pulled away from him, after some moments, and you cupped his face in your hands after tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “We can continue, if you want.”

“Continue what?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Reading your book.” He replied with embarrassment.

"My sweet, smart boy." You laughed before placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you too. And sure, we can continue reading my beloved Dorian Gray.”

“Oh.” He clutched his heart dramatically.

A smile appeared on your face. “Are you jealous because of a fictional character?”

He pretended to feel offended, making you laugh again. Just as he was about to answer, the loud sound of thunder interrupted him. You flinched unexpectedly.

Now he was the one laughing. You huffed in mock outrage.

“My little girl is afraid of thunderstorms?” He gently ran his fingers through your hair’s. “Let me take care of you properly, love.”

You nodded and tried not to smile too wide when you leaned in to kiss him.

You do a whole lot more than just kiss him, though. You open his mouth with your own and lick inside with a confident tongue. You take the breath from his lungs with little effort, leaving him more breathless than he has been all night.

“Wanna suck you off,” you murmured, slurred and muffled against his mouth.

Colby breathed out a laugh, one mixed with amusement and disbelief. “I rarely know this side of you, babe.” He told you, smoothing wide palms up and down your arms.

“Do you want a blowjob or not?”

“Well, yeah, but I—”

“Good,” you hummed with a smile before sinking to your knees in front of him. You unbuttoned his pants and free his half-hard cock from the confines of his pants. You tugged at the hem of his underwear until his heavy balls hang over the plaid fabric.

Finally you decided to have mercy on him as you flattened your tongue against his dick, deciding to follow the vein from his base to his tip. Colby let out a high-pitched whine followed by a "thank you", but you didn’t really care. Yes, it felt good for him, but this was also for your pleasure. You swirled your tongue around his leaking tip, tasting the salty essen.

“Jesus fucking christ— you’re so pretty, baby— fuck.” He tilted his head back, gripping the sheets. “Fuck, please baby. Don't stop.”

You smiled up at the wrecked man, the man begging for you to continue. You could feel the light pressure of his hand against your head trying to push you closer to his groin.

“Can I kiss you?” He surprised himself as the question had left his mouth.

“Please.” you whined with desperation, making Colby groan as his lips found yours in a frenzy.

Your fingers slowly trailed down, finally wrapping your dainty hand around the sheer girth and length that was Colby’s cock.

Another unashamed whimper fell from between his pretty lips.

“That feels good, baby?” You murmured into his mouth between the smacks that echoed off the walls.

“Fuck, yeah mhm, it does.” He rushed out awkwardly, making you giggle into the kiss.

You took him back into your mouth, but that time without mercy as you relaxed your throat, slowly moving down inch by delicious inch as you tried not to gag, his tip now bullying your uvula like his own personal punching bag.

You fucked his aching cock into your throat, bobbing your head up and down, over and over.

“I need your cock so bad Colby.” You moaned.

“Use me, please. J-just fuck, just use me pretty girl.” Colby whimpered.

“Yes, sir.” You whispered into his ear before placing a gentle kiss there. You turned around, hand grabbing onto his still hard cock, you lower yourself into his lap, pink tip already prodding at your hole as your back became flush with his chest, you lay your head back against his shoulder and burrowed it into his neck, both of you moaning in unison as you sink onto him, slowly.

He was so big it was like he was ripping you in half, but you welcomed the burn. The pleasure and pain of it all made your cunt drip even more, further creating less pain and a whole lot more pleasure.

“Shit, you’re so wet and so fucking warm, baby.” Colby huffed.

You wailed as your legs begin to shake, your cunt clenching around him as your nails digging into his thighs that continue to slap up into the backs of yours.

“Colby– I’m cumming, oh my god!” You sobbed, when the most intense pleasure was coursing through your body, turning you into a twitching mess.

“Fuck, me too baby, wher-” He didn’t even get to finish, before you were begging him to cum inside you. Of course he obliged, eyes rolling back into his head and cock throbbing as his heavy load shot deep inside you.

“Goddammit.” He whispered into your neck.

The intensity of the moment consumed you, as he poured every ounce of himself into you, leaving you both utterly spent and satisfied. You both were breathless and drenched in perspiration, your legs entwined with his.

The storm seemed to be going away, the quiet rumbling was barely audible. All of a sudden the street lights came back up. Colby chuckled and sighed.

“So, you still want to read that book of yours again?”

#colby brock #colby brock smut #colby brock fanfic #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach smut #sam and colby smut #colby brock x reader #sam and colby #colby brock fanfiction #hell week #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fluff #sam golbach #colby brock imagine

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princessbrunette · 6 months

Note

rafe would totally be the baby daddy you still screw every time he comes around the house. like you refuse to admit it, but the second he’s putting your baby girl down for a nap and coming out to grab his keys you’re on him. GRRR

🐇⋆୨୧⋆⋆˚🎀˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡🧁

this ask has been killing me since i read it, there’s something so delicious about reader being the needy one to beg for it everytime he comes over :( he pretends not to love it but it makes him so cocky !! he can’t deny you an orgasm right? you’re his babymama after all he should be looking after you too 🥺

just seeing him straighten his shirt out casually as he’s walking out the babies room, patting his pockets down looking for his keys whistling quietly to himself and you just appear in the doorway all doe eyed like you wanna ask him something :(

he finds his keys, swinging them round his finger as he walks. “whats up? ‘think i don’t know that look? y’want something.” hes already reaching for his wallet, just incase.

“no… just…” you sigh, approaching him with the sweetest lil face, wearing your lil slip dress still with your tits a little swollen from feeding just pouting up at him and grabbing on him like “s’been so long, just need something, please rafe… you’re supposed to look after everyone. said you would.” all pouty over not having his attention :(

and he turns fully to you, eyeing you properly now letting you touch on him as he pockets his keys again. “oh yeah? need your fix huh?” he’s already taking control of the situation, backing you into your bedroom with his hand cupping the back of your neck and he sees you literally melt in relief, knowing you’re not gonna have to use that pretty head for a while !! he softly shuts the door behind him, giving you a quick kiss before walking past you to the bed and nodding towards it in gesture for you to lay down as he unbuckles his belt. “alright, c’mere baby. try and stay quiet this time yeah? you can do that?”

he’s just all casual n nonchalant n dominant abt it you can’t help but beg him to fuck u everytime he comes round til he just becomes ur man again bc u can’t go without it :(

also … “shit, better be careful yeah? gonna put another baby in this pretty pussy if m’not.”

🐇⋆୨୧⋆⋆˚🎀˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡🧁

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #dad!rafe #babydaddy!rafe

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ellecdc · 3 months

Note

HEY POOKIE!!!!

Could I request a fic with either poly moon water or poly marauders where reader has had mental health issues but they were getting better and then they slip back into them. This happens to me in moments and I have to remind myself that it’s part of my progress but it would be so nice if I had someone else to say it too. No pressure lovely!!!!

I ADORE all of your marauders work!! Like OML I never know how much I needed poly moonwater until youuuu❤️❤️❤️😘

hi babes! totally get where you're coming from re: mental health issues. It's a marathon, not a race. and I'm so glad you love moonwater! my evil plan of converting the entire fandom (lol) is succeeding. I opted to go with the marauders but it's quite sirius centric

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with her mental health

CW: non-sexual nudity [nothing is described], discussion of dark mental headspace and anxiety/depression [again, nothing is described]

You felt awful.

You knew the boys would be understanding, but it didn’t make you feel any better about your behaviour.

You’d found yourself slipping back into familiar and darker headspaces as of late, and though you couldn’t deny the disconcerting comfort that familiarity brought, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to fully fall back into it; you worked so hard to move beyond this, and you had been doing so well.

It hurt worse now that you felt like you weren’t just disappointing yourself anymore, but also disappointing three other people who - for whatever reason - cared an awful lot about you.

You’d been inching closer and closer to a panic all day and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed when you got home and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours days weeks.

Those kinds of plans don’t work when you live with three other people, two of which have the tendency to coddle you.

You knew that irritability was one of the symptoms of your anxiety, but knowing that didn’t stop the sting of your words as they left your lips.

James was too nice, too bright, too happy, too lovely. You felt like the polar opposite of your sweetest boyfriend, which made you feel even more disappointing than you already had. And Remus was a fixer; he had a tendency to see a problem and immediately start problem solving, but that’s not what you needed right now.

Of course, you didn’t say that.

Of course, you got angry and lashed out at them before storming off to your room and slamming the door.

What started off as feeling blue quickly spiralled into a low affect. Feeling low left you increasingly anxious. Your anxiety left you feeling disappointing and less than, which caused you to feel depressed. The more depressed you got, the more anxious you became. The more anxious you became, the more depressed you felt.

It was a vicious cycle and you were stuck in its seemingly never ending assault on you.

And now, you weren’t just depressed and anxious; you were also feeling terribly guilty and overwhelmed at the thought of having upset Remus and James.

Remus, who only wanted to help, who only wanted you to feel better, who only wanted to care for you.

And James, who only wanted to perhaps share a little bit of his joy with you on the off chance it could brighten your day.

You were awful.

Horrid.

You didn’t deserve them, and they didn’t deserve you - they deserved better. You deserved nothing.

You’re not sure how long you had been standing under the spray of the water with your head against the cool tile when you heard a gentle knock against the glass of the shower door.

You felt the irritability surge in your blood again at the intrusion of your pity party, but tried your hardest to take a steadying breath before you hummed a quiet “yeah?”

“Can I come in?” You heard Sirius’ voice ask from the other side, apparently having gotten home sometime during your meltdown.

He could, though you weren’t sure he should.

You were terrible after all.

Horrid.

The glass door popped open and Sirius shoved his face in. You didn’t bother turning your face towards him but you could feel the questions permeating his being nonetheless.

“I’m coming in.” He announced, deciding on your behalf.

You heard the sound of his clothes falling to the bathroom floor, and you knew if Remus were in here he’d be scolding him: “there’s a hamper right there, Sirius.”

But Remus wasn’t here because you were awful and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the sodding hamper nor Sirius’ clothes littering the floor.

Some of your steam escaped as Sirius opened the shower door fully and you were accosted with cool air that left your body covered in goosebumps. He corrected it quickly by standing under the spray with you and pushing his front up against your back, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“Fuck, you take hot showers.” He commented.

Usually you’d laugh.

“Sorry.” You said instead.

He rubbed at your hips where his hands had fallen with his thumbs, eliciting another layer of goosebumps on your skin.

“You’re not feeling too good, are you baby?” He asked quietly.

You let out an exhausted breath. “I don’t feel good; I’m no good.” You responded just as quietly.

Sirius ducked his chin down to kiss your shoulder before quickly replacing it.

“That’s not true.”

You didn’t respond, glad that the water streaming over your face hid the evidence of the tears escaping your eyes.

Wordlessly, Sirius pulled away and grabbed your shampoo, working it into your hair. You did nothing to help him in his task, keeping your head pressed against the shower wall as he lathered the soap on your scalp. He pulled the handheld down to rinse it out, paying special attention to point the spray away from your face since you didn’t seem too fussed over protecting your own eyes. He combed some conditioner through your hair and rinsed it out in much the same manner before grabbing a loofa and lathering body wash over your form.

“Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back.” He commented, finally breaking the silence that had long been only the sound of the water falling and each of your breaths. “But that still means you’re one step forward.”

A sob escaped you, causing Sirius to pause in his ministrations and pull you back into his chest again.

He didn’t say anything else; he knew better. Of course he would, Sirius sometimes understood this side of you better than the others did. Sirius had a tendency to fall into darker times too, also having a penchant for lashing out at those closest to him when things felt like too much.

He let you cry, standing under the likely too-hot-for-his-tastes water, as he rocked you back and forth with your head leaned back, resting on his shoulder as you faced toward the ceiling.

“Do they hate me?” You whimpered eventually, trying to convince your lungs to take in slower, deeper breaths.

“Of course they don’t; you know they don’t.”

“Are they mad at me?”

You could feel Sirius shake his head, but he answered you verbally anyway.

“No, doll. They worry, is all.”

You didn’t like that. You didn’t want them to worry. “I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” He agreed readily. “They do too.”

You let that sit in the foggy air for a little bit.

“Do you know that?” He asked eventually.

“Know what?”

“That you’re okay? That you’re just fine?”

You thought about that for a moment. You were sad, and you were anxious, but were you fine?

You admitted to yourself you felt the familiar tendrils of your darker self pulling at you, but you could also admit it was different this time. You were better, you had been working hard, and most importantly, that hard work was paying off.

You may have been two steps forward and one step back, but you were still one step forward from where you started.

“You’re sure they’re not mad at me?” You asked instead, earning you a chuckle as Sirius turned you in his arms to hold your face between his hands.

“No one is mad at you, love. I swear it. You are, however, very loved.”

You offered him the best smile you could muster and let him pull you forward for a chaste kiss.

“Then… yes, I know I’m fine.” You agreed eventually, earning you a beaming smile from your boyfriend.

“Atta girl.”

Your felt your cheeks heat up at the praise and pushed your forehead into his chest.

“Can we get out of this torture chamber, now? I swear this water is being heated by hellfire.” He joked, leaning around you to turn off the shower without your consent.

“It’s really not that bad.” You argued, earning you a scoff.

“I’m red, doll. The water has marred my skin, perhaps permanently.”

You continued arguing about proper shower etiquette as you rubbed lotion into your skin (and then into Sirius’ for his troubles [he really was sort of red]), and changed into your comfies.

You headed towards the living room before you remembered you were sort of ashamed with yourself for the way you had spoken to the other two boys, but Sirius didn’t allow you to hesitate in the hall as he caught your elbow when your steps faltered and ushered you into the room.

“Boys, we’re really going to have to do something about her shower habits.” He commented as if a) nothing had happened, and b) you weren’t even there. “I’m surprised she hasn’t completely melted her skin off."

“Perhaps hot showers are how she gets so beautiful, Sirius, ever think about that?” James jested back, earning him an indignant scoff.

“Are you saying I’m not pretty, Jamie?”

“As pretty as Y/N?” Remus interjected, looking between the two of you as if assessing. “No, not at all.”

“Well I-” Sirius began, but you interrupted.

“I’m sorry.”

Everyone’s shoulders fell as they turned to look at you, clearly willing to brush over the tension if that had been what you wanted.

“I was rude and irritable when I got home, and neither of you deserved that. I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James started, opening his arms for you which you readily accepted and tucked yourself into his chest.

“I was never mad to begin with, but I’ll go ahead and forgive you right now if that’ll make you feel better, okay?” He murmured into your wet hair.

“Okay. Thank you.” You murmured back.

“You’re too sweet for us, dove.” Remus commented, moving to place a consoling hand on your back.

“I was the opposite of that earlier.” You chuckled at your own expense.

“Please.” Sirius scoffed derisively. “These two are too nice, especially when you feel like shit; I’ve given them a far harder time than you have, dollface.”

“It’s true.” James said quickly. “He once told me he’d rather have a cup of tea with his mother than snuggle with me when he was in one of his moods once.”

You gasped and looked at Sirius in horror. “You did not.”

Sirius, not at all guilty, shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure did, and I meant it too.”

“Oh come off it.” Remus chided, pulling Sirius into his side who broke out in a grin, effectively eliminating his earnest facade.

“No, of course I didn’t mean it.” He relented, leaning further into Remus’ side.

“I don’t like myself very much when I’m like this.” You admitted quietly.

“We’ll love you enough for all of us in the meantime then, yeah?” James asked, pulling you into his arms tighter.

“Just be patient with yourself dove, you’re much too hard on yourself. We’re here now and we’ll be here when you feel better too.” Remus added.

“Can’t get rid of us that easily, dollface.” Sirius concluded, shooting you a wink.

Two steps forward and one step back.

But you were still one step forward.

You knew you would make two more steps forward again soon.

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astonmartinii · 1 year

Text

big girls do(n't) cry | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: reader x charles leclerc

charles' gf just can't seem to catch a break

yourinstagram

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 201,876 others

yourinstagram: weekend breaking with the girlypops

view all 17,546 comments

leclercbaby: so charles is racing in miami and y/n is out spending his money with her friends?

ynandcharles: you know she has a job right? and a life outside of charles?

charlesdefender: let's not pretend her little writing gig covers all of this shit

charles_leclerc: lovely lady

yourinstagram: why thank you my dashing gentleman

ferrarigirl16: imagine dating an elite athlete and smoking? it's so gross charles needs to drop her asap

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 612,088 others

charles_leclerc: friday feeling in monaco 🇲🇨

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babygirlpierre NO Y/N ??? DON'T GET ME EXCITED

holacarlos55 do you people not have jobs or ?

yourusername what do they put in the water in monaco woooooof

charles_leclerc says the tall glass of water herself

justleclercthings let's not pretend that her missing his home gp isn't a HUGE deal omg

lordperceval i usually don't care about wag drama but like ... we all know y/n is the worst wag, right? she hardly comes to races, is always spending his money with her friends and is smoking as if he doesn't need to be in top condition?

likedbypierregasly you might have a point

yourusername

liked by yourbff, landonorris and 231,887 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourbff1, yourbff2, yourbff3

yourusername: you didn't think i'd forgotten about monaco, did you?

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cl16x mother back to mothering as she should

charlesstan okay well some of y'all are real quiet now

charles_leclerc wouldn't be a monaco race without you (and your stray cats)

yourbff since we're staying at your house i'll keep what i wanted to say to myself

yourbff2 meow bitch

yourusername don't pretend you don't love us

peargasly why can't she go anywhere without her friends it's so weird

pierregaslight because she obviously has no friends in the paddock any time the camera goes to the ferrari garage no one is ever with her

grussy63 she seems super annoying idk what charles sees in her

f1wagsupdates

liked by gatekeepgaslightgirlboss, babyricc3 and 1,276 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: y/n y/ln at the release party for her new book sharp objects! this is her third book and it's already a new york times best seller, so happy for her

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howdyricciardo so everyone who gets on her ass when she can't go to races but where's the same energy for charles now - we all know they have the week off cause he's on holiday with pierre.

landonowins it's such a double standard

number16 i still think she's bad for charles her actually doing her job won't change my mind

charlesbaby can't wait for the day when she won't be on this page anymore

perceval16 these comments ... they're on every post i really think charles needs to say something at this point, he's just hanging y/n out to dry

yourusername added to their story

[caption: lonesome love. i am bored by his heroism, virtue, and honour. i think the best these men can do is not talk about themselves anymore]

yourbff

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 4,198 others

tagged: yourusername

yourbff: since no one else will, LISTEN UP SLUTS!!! this girl is the most talented and kind-hearted girl in the whole entire world. ANYONE would be lucky to be with her, so it honestly BAFFLES my mind that those blessed enough to be with her are so silent when his so-called fans rip a person they do not know apart on social media. i say this sincerely GET A LIFE!!! also she's the sexiest girl in the world and could have literally anyone she wants so PICK UP THE SLACK OR we'll activate operation hot girl summer - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

view all comments

yourbff1 @charles_leclerc

yourbff2 @charles_leclerc

yourbff3 @charles_leclerc

yourusername i love you all so much - platonic soulmates for real

danielricciardo @charles_leclerc

charlieleclerc oh wow charles just got humbled

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 1,087,556 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: i've not been the best of boyfriends in recent weeks, so it is time i say my piece. y/n is the most talented, patient and beautiful individual i have ever met and i won't stand for her being attacked on social media by my "fans". you are not a fan of mine if you attack my girlfriend. i love her and nothing an anonymous comment can say will ever change that. you attack her for not "supporting" me enough and yet none of you know anything from behind the scenes (not that you should need to), if anything i have been the unsupportive one. i love y/n so so much and i will do anything to make sure she knows it. please stay out of our business.

comments disabled on this post.

yourusername

liked by yourbff, charles_leclerc and 101,775 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: he's mine. cry more.

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lilacleclerc i love them so much PARENTS

danielricciardo WHOOP TELL EM'

charles_leclerc love you too baby

yourusername i love you more

landonorris mic drop

myloveleclerc finally !!!

dutchlion i'm so glad he finally said something - and also me if i were a wag CRY MORE

note: bit of a random one but alas i hope y'all enjoy

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc #charles leclerc instagram au

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lovebugism · 8 months

Note

hey honey can i request a shy!reader x grumpy!eddie , maybe they’re pumpkin picking with friends & something angsty ensues but then fluffy & after they all go eat at the diner and get spooky themed orders 🤭

thanks for requesting lovie! — eddie gets grumpy on a fall outing with the gang (shy!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1.3k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie’s a big ol’ grump at Eugene’s Pumpkin Patch, but he’s being really brave about it. He follows you like a puppy, visibly unamused about the whole thing but trying hard to be a good boyfriend despite his woe.

“Ah! Look at this one!” you gasp at the sight of a pumpkin, in a sea of bright orange pumpkins.

Swallowed whole by your sweater, you crouch in the tall grass and reach for the tiny round thing hidden in it. The runt pumpkin sits neatly in your palms. “It’s so wittle,” you singsong up at Eddie in a tiny, high-pitched voice.

He smiles despite himself, laughing even though he’s grumpy, ‘cause you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m gonna get this one,” you announce affirmatively when you rise to full height again.

“You made me drive an hour out just to get the tiniest pumpkin they have?” Eddie asks, laughing still but with a subtle bite of annoyance.

You try to ignore it, though the weight of his aggravation makes you writhe. “But it’s cute…” you defend with a weak shrug. “And also, you have to get one, remember?”

You take a tentative step towards Eddie, standing chest to chest. He huffs and puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. His chocolate eyes flit around the expansive farm, dull and unimpressed. “They all look the same, so… I don’t think it really matters.”

“It does matter!” you insist, girlish and quiet and stubborn. “You have to pick the one you like the most— that’s the whole point!”

“You’re telling me there’s an art to pumpkin picking?” the boy teases with a crooked grin, tilting his head to the side so his curls bunch at his shoulder.

Still clutching the tiniest pumpkin either of you have ever seen, you nod. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

He scoffs again in a curt laugh. He looks around again, only to point to the one sitting by his feet.

“Alright… How about that one?”

“Eddie!”

“What?” he whines in the same pouty tone as you.

“Can you at least pretend you’re having fun?” you murmur, a bit sad you have to even ask.

You always spiral when he gets weird, secretly terrified that it’s all your fault. He doesn’t talk, so you overthink. Your brain gets mean, and you need Eddie to make you feel better — but he can’t because he’s weird. It’s unbearable. For both of you.

“It’s cold and rainy and Steve’s pants gave me a headache on the way over and I don’t feel good, okay? I’m sorry,” Eddie rambles with a pout, looking visibly pained about all of it.

Any excitement you had left leaves you like an ebbing tide. “Okay,” you mutter with a soft nod.

“I’m gonna go smoke,” the boy announces.

He smacks a fleeting kiss to your cheek before he goes but doesn’t bother to invite you to come with him. He doesn’t feel very deserving of your company right now, too selfish in his woe and painfully self-aware about it.

You stand in place while he walks back to the van, feeling utterly alone and unwanted.

“Where’d Eddie go?” Steve wonders when he walks up to you with Robin at his side.

They carry two pumpkins each, struggling with each of them because they’ve somehow managed to find the biggest ones on the whole farm. You figure they made a bet about it because everything’s a competition with them.

“Um… to smoke, I think,” you answer shyly, embarrassed to have been found alone for a reason you can’t name. “He just kinda… left.”

Robin scoffs. “I think he’s on his period,” she jokes with a gritty laugh.

“Yeah. He said my pants looked stupid before we left. I knew something was up.”

The brunette girl side-eyes the boy beside her. “I think he might’ve been right about that one, Stevie.”

You make a quiet exit when they begin to bicker back and forth. You duck through the bustling pumpkin patch and try not to trip in the tall grass on your way to Eddie’s van.

Your boots crunch over the gravel of the parking lot. You find him leaning against the trunk, blowing out smoke from his pink mouth, slouching like he’s weighed down by his own sadness.

“You okay, Eds?” you ask to announce your arrival.

His eyes widen when he realizes you’re there. He’d pretend to be fine if it didn’t take all the energy he had left. “No,” he answers honestly, then quickly corrects, “I mean— I am, but… I feel bad. I was acting like a dick…”

“Yeah,” you concur with a nod. “You were.”

He’s too shocked to hide it on his face. You’re never normally so confrontational. You’re usually too quiet for that, too soft. And you still are now, because you always are, but he feels like he deserves to see this sterner side of you.

“But it’s okay. I know you didn’t wanna come in the first place.”

He turns on his shoulder when you stand at his side, towering over you as he flicks the butt of his cigarette. “Yeah, but… I didn’t have to be such an asshole to you about it. I feel like I fuckin’ ruined this whole day, you know?”

“We all have our moments, Eds. It’s no big deal,” you assure with a weak shrug and a stronger smile. “We still have the whole afternoon left— you didn’t ruin anything. Doesn’t make me love you any less, either.”

Your words make him grin. Like, really grin — all wide and rosy and boyish. You make him smile like nothing’s ever hurt him. Like nothing’s ever been wrong in his life. Fuck, he’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.

“I love the shit outta you, you know that?” he mumbles but doesn’t give you a chance to answer. He tosses the cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out with his sneaker right before kissing you absolutely stupid.

He wraps his arms around your neck, smothering your face with his. No one’s ever been kissed as hard as he’s kissing you now. The realization makes you smile too wide to kiss him back.

He pulls away from you with a hearty smack. With pinker lips and chocolate eyes, he grins hopefully down at you. “So you’re not mad at me?” he wonders, gentle like a child.

“Yes,” you nod, playfully firm. “I’m very mad, actually.”

Eddie’s smile widens. He knows you’re joking and decides to lean into it. “What can I do then, huh?” he murmurs lowly to you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How can I make it up to you?”

He wants to kiss you again. He wants to get you in the back of his van in a vacant parking lot. He wants you to tell him to make you feel good and not to stop until you’re pushing him away.

You know all of this, ‘cause you can practically read his mind, so you decide to drive him crazier. “I want you…” you start in the same low tone, bordering on sultry.

Eddie’s already nodding.

You smile and continue.

“…To go pick your most favorite pumpkin in the whole patch, and then take me to Benny’s Burgers.”

Feeling slightly disappointed and utterly teased, Eddie searches the entire patch and finds the weirdest-shaped, wartiest pumpkin the earth has ever grown. He drives the gang to the diner after and sits you in his lap when all of you squeeze into one booth.

He shares his milkshake with you and lets you have the pickle slice that comes with his burger when you ask for it (‘cause everyone knows it’s the best part). It’s the purest form of love, if he has anything to say about it.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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highvern · 22 days

Text

YUCK

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive moments

warnings: mentions of illness/body fluids (snot, vomit), avoidant attachment from reader, Hoshi best boy

Length: ~2.9k

Note: more of this couples bc im crazy thank u @gyuswhore

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], Talk [a, s, f]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Two and a half months of hooking up with a guy who may or may not be a furry and things start feeling…comfortable.

You’ll pretend until the day you die that every time the weekend rolls around you won’t end up naked in Soonyoung’s bed. Or your own. Usually it is your own because he has more roommates than you and yours leaves to stay at her boyfriend’s until Monday night which means there is no need to keep quiet (which you and Soonyoung both struggle with but you refuse to acknowledge that fact).

It allows for many nights bent over the kitchen counter, Soonyoung’s chest hot against the back of your thighs as he works you up with his mouth. Or occasional nights on the couch after you both are too into each other to make it upstairs to your room, planted firmly in his lap while pinning his hands to the cushions. There's also the nights he drags you straight to bed and demonstrates exactly what all the pictures you took while tucked away in the privacy of a gross bar bathroom did to him.

You’re pretty sure Soonyoung has picked up on your game by now because instead of asking ‘if’ he’s taken to asking ‘when’ he can come over. And it's annoying that it doesn’t really annoy you at all.

Soonyoung comes over on Friday nights and leaves Saturday afternoon, except when he shows up on Saturday mornings and stays well into Sunday night. Or the occasional weekend where you remember who you are and show up on his door and leave three hours later with cum still drying on your thigh as you walk past his roommates still pregaming in the living room.

Except now it's Friday and you’ve got nothing on your mind except for the inside of a toilet bowl and the cool tile of the bathroom floor.

Call it food poisoning or maybe the flu, but you’ve been in and out of sleep since the early hours of dawn. Shivering on the floor, the only company you have is a pile of dirty clothes. Even the crack of light under the door is too much stimulation for your illness-racked brain to tolerate.

“Y/N?” your roommate calls from the other side of the darkness, out in the hallway where it's safe from whatever curse is making home in your gut. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home? I don’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” you groan. Your words couldn’t convince the deaf but you try anyway.

She responds but it slips right past because another bout of nausea takes hold.

You manage to fall asleep at some point, clammy on the floor with aching hips. Maybe an hour or maybe ten minutes. It doesn't really make a difference because you still feel like shit when the door opens and the hall light burns through your retinas.

“Hazel, I said I’m— What are you doing here?” you croak from the floor.

Soonyoung stairs down at you, face soft with something that might be worry but it’s probably just the fever melting your brain. “You look like shit.”

“You always know just what to say.” The usual snark isn’t there, replaced by a pathetic helpless whine of discomfort because all you want is to curl up and die. “Did you come to insult me or…?”

“Hazel let me know you were sick and usually sick people need medicine and soup so I brought that and this tea my mom used to give me as a kid.”

“Are you trying to cure me so you can get your dick wet?”

“No. If I wanted to stick my dick in a Petri dish I feel like there are easier ways to go about it.” He kneels right next to you like he isn’t the slightest bit concerned about catching the plague brewing in your immune system. A cool hand cups your cheek, thumb gentle at your temple where a dull throb has haunted you all day. You lean into the comforting touch without much thought. “When was the last time you showered?”

“I don’t know. Like two days ago?”

“Yeah, I can smell that. Alright my little germ cell, let’s get you cleaned up.”

His arms snake under yours, dragging you from the floor even with your muscles limp. It takes more maneuvering but you don’t bother helping. If he wants to play not-so-sexy nurse and patient then that's his problem. The warmth of his sweater is welcome though.

“Is this some weird fetish thing?” Nose buried in Soonyoung’s chest, it comes out in a jumble. “Because I can’t handle this and the furry stuff.”

“Yes, caring about your health is a fetish for me. Really gets me off knowing you’ve been a good girl and taken your vitamins.”

“I knew it.” you whisper. “I’m not calling you daddy if that’s what you want.”

Soonyoung laughs and the movement sends another bolt of pain through your skull. He tuts over your responding whimper and what may be his lips press to the side of your head briefly. It’s warm and comforting, the beat of his heart lulling you into the first satisfying rest since you woke up. Your hands bunching the front of his shirt are desperate for anything to keep you steady.

Thankfully, he doesn’t release you while setting things up for a shower; accommodating for your weight with a slow shuffle and more placating coos against your hairline every time you protest a sudden jostle. The chill of the bathroom fully sets in when he pushes down your sweats and shucks off your snot stained sweater before tossing away his own. If you weren’t barely functioning it might even be impressive that he’s kept you in his arms the entire time.

“If you’re trying to fuck me, I hope you don’t mind snot.” You blow your nose against the curve of his neck just to be a bitch.

You feel more naked under the stream of water than you ever have, which is ironic given you’ve had Soonyoung face to crotch more times than you can count. Something about the non-sexual nature of nudeness, feeling the least sexy you ever have while he scrubs you down with gentle hands, turns your stomach more than before.

“I’m not trying to fuck you,” he laughs again; a thousand volts straight to the heart. “Don’t worry.”

You pop out of hiding, hurt by the idea. “You don’t want to fuck me?”

Soonyoung’s face is soft, cheeks round and hair already damp to his forehead. He isn’t disgusted by the puke on your breath or the sweat matting your hair. Or if he is, he hides it well. “I always want to fuck you but right now I’m trying to make sure you don’t die.”

You dive back into his shoulder, mind numb to anything beyond the silky feel of hands washing away days of ick. You’ve felt his hands on almost every part of your body but right now they lack the characteristic urgency from those moments where you can’t get enough of each other quick enough. He’s touching you the way he does in the glow of the moon after you’ve both been satisfied, when Soonyoung thinks you’re asleep and you let him as every curve and dip and hill of your body is covered in gentle strokes like he’s committing you to memory.

“I can do that on my own,” you argue.

The facts aren’t stacked in your favor right now but it’s the principle: you don’t need him to take care of you. You can handle it on your own. He’s only here because you let him.

“Oh, I know. Now close your eyes so I don’t get soap in them.”

He cups your face, thumbs rubbing away the sweat that's been caked on since morning. Then it’s a rough washcloth doused in the scent of your face wash but you swat it away in favor of the calluses on his fingers. If you weren’t a dead woman walking he’d never get a chance to be this close.

How is it more terrifying for someone to wipe away your boogers than let him see you naked multiple times a week? A question knotting your stomach into tight pieces as Soonyoung hums some tune you don’t recognize like he’s more than happy to do so.

Your brain stops working after so long; too exhausted from everything to think more about what this all means. Not even the familiar flat press of his front against yours can incite a response beyond content. All the world shrinks into the pitter patter of the water swirling around the drain, and the parts that are warmed by Soonyoung and the parts that are waiting to be.

When you come back to awareness, the waters off and he is whispering something into your clammy forehead.

“Hmmm?”

“I said, it’s time to get out.”

More shuffling gets you back into your room where the mattress takes your weight while he digs around for fresh clothes. You roll onto your side, clad in a towel and nothing else, resound to fall asleep then and there.

“Alright, arms up,” he commands.

You try to pull away, diving back into the pillow soaked from your hair but Soonyoung gets you up at the waist, maneuvering stiff limbs patiently.

“Do you have an armpit fetish too?” you ask with the collar stuck around the top of your head.

“And you call me a freak?”

Next is pants, and it takes a few tries for you to even consider being helpful. Soonyoung lifts each leg individually, working the fabric as far as he can. Then a few dramatic grunts from coordinating your entire body weight but you’re back in a clean pair of pajamas and tucked under the covers. Soonyoung didn’t rise to any more of your snide remarks about being naked. He simply avoiding your bare skin like it’d burn. Not even his favorite thing about you (boobs) gets any attention, just a few chuckles and more kisses into your temple.

You melt into the plush mattress, hidden beneath a pile of blankets from the cruel world that cursed you with new realizations you're not prepared for just yet.

Eyes closed the entire time, you hear Soonyoung leave without so much as a goodbye. In theory it’s what you want. Exactly how you prefer; you alone, him somewhere you can pretend all the confounding feelings don’t exist. You didn’t even want him to show up in the first place, but now that he’s been here and you’re horrifically aware how nice it feels to have someone take care of you. You miss him.

And as soon as the pit opens up, you hear someone shuffling down the hall coming towards your room.

“Alright, once you eat something you can sleep.”

The thought of food tightens your stomach more than the fact he didn’t leave you but he’s right. You need fluids and you’re not strong willed enough to get them yourself.

After the first few bites, you feel a little more human and less like a walking sack of shit. With it, the discomfort of this entire ordeal rears with a new vengeance.

“Why are you here?” It sounds like an accusation.

He doesn’t even miss a beat. ��Because I like you.”

Soonyoung says it matter of factly, the same way the sky is blue and water is wet, while shoving another bite into your mouth.

You’re too exhausted for a fight right now; not with the only person making a real effort to keep you alive, but the instinct is strong after years of low expectations and plenty of disappointment.

“Why?”

“Because I just do.”

Your eyes meet over the spoon. He doesn’t look annoyed or perturbed or even angry. He likes you whether you like it or not.

“I don’t date.”

“Okay,” he agrees, wiping at the spill dripping from your chin.

“You aren’t gonna argue?”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ and your need for confrontation with it. “You don’t wanna date? That’s fine. I’ll take whatever I can get, even if that’s spoon feeding you on your deathbed.”

You take the next bite before commenting, “You’re so weird.”

“I like you too. Now open up for the airplane.” He makes the noise and the medicine twists your brain into actually finding it funny. “How are you pretty even when you’re blowing your nose on my shirt?”

“Deal with the devil.”

He passes you a cold cup when you brush away the remainder of the soup. One sip is all it takes.

“How did you know I like the orange Gatorade?”

“I asked Jun to give me June’s number and she gave me Hazel’s number and I asked while I was at the store.”

“You went through all that trouble just to buy me the right Gatorade?” you snort.

“It really wasn’t any trouble.”

It isn’t but it’s more than anyone else has ever done for you. The fresh wave of nausea has nothing to do with your cold.

“I’m tired,” you tell him.

The mess is cleaned up in silence. You pretend to fall asleep and Soonyoung lets you until he’s shoving more medicine your way.

You shake your head, failing to refuse because Soonyoung is doing that dumb airplane nose again and when you cough up a laugh he shoves the spoon in your mouth and you’re left with no choice but to swallow.

Then he’s up and you watch through heavy eyes as he gathers his things. You’ll blame it on the drugs loosening the clutch you have on your emotions later.

“Where are you going?” you ask with faux apathy, negated by the fist tangled in the hem of his sweatshirt in case he evaporates away.

“Home. Unless…you want me to stay?” A tug at the sweater is your answer to that horrible thought. “Oh, thank god – I was getting sad.”

You roll over, offering him your back to curl around. The muscles tensed around your spine soften when he does.

I sleep better when you’re here.

You won’t tell him that but Soonyoung stiffens for a moment and the fear you’ve said the wrong thing creeps in where fatigue hasn’t rooted just yet. But a kiss to your covered shoulder and a hand under your sweater, flat against your stomach so you stay as close as possible calms the thoughts enough you can drift off.

It’s strange. Having the heat of his body at your back without the limpness of a good fuck still coursing through your veins to thaw the parts that hate pillow talk and the stickiness that come with it.

What's even stranger is that you don’t really mind it all. If anything, it’s actually pretty nice.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

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babymetaldoll · 7 months

Text

Pillow talk (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 763 Summary: rambling with Spencer after sex Warnings: mention of sex, and that's it. Prompt: Coffee is illegal and you have to single-handedly smuggle it into the country A/N: I'm trying to write random blurbs to fight this awful writer's block. Wish me luck! Masterlist

If there was a moment Spencer enjoyed with his girlfriend, was their random conversation after sex. Their pillow talks were so aimless, yet so incredibly personal and intimate, he could never get enough of them. There was something special about that time together. It wasn’t that they were naked, it wasn’t about what they had just done. It was about how they seemed to be so carefree, so happy, and so connected, that they could talk about anything or everything.

Most of his team would never believe it, but Spencer Walter Reid was one chatty fellow right after sex.

- “Ok, explain to me this: how on earth are you so freaking smart, but you still haven’t figured out cooking yet.”- (Y/N) asked her boyfriend giggling, as he walked back to bed naked with a bag of chips and two bottles of Gatorade.

- “Why are you attacking me after I made you come four times?!”- Spencer replied, chuckling, and pretending to be deeply hurt.- “This is outrageous!”

- “What is scandalous is that you feed me Gatorade and chips after all the effort I just made on my knees!”- (Y/N) argued making Spencer gasp, acting shocked and insulted.

- “What about my effort? I just made you cum four times in a little less than an hour! I deserve a treat myself, why don’t you bake me some cookies?”

He was teasing her, and she knew it. It was fun and sweet watching Spencer so relaxed and comfortable. He lay on the bed completely naked, drinking from his Gatorade bottle as his girlfriend sat next to him, playing with his hair sweetly.

- “Which is the one thing you can’t live without?”

- “Other than you?”

- “I am not a thing, Spencer Reid.”- (Y/N) stated and looked at him raising an eyebrow.

- “I know that. And I’m sure you also know the answer to that.”

- “It’s confusing actually. I wanna say coffee, but also books. So… which one is it? Which is your true love.”

- “You, always you. Forever and ever, you.”- Spencer wrapped his arms around her and moved her closer to him, kissing her cheeks several times. (Y/N) hummed happily as she let the warmth from his body wrap around her. And for a moment, the two of them stayed in silence, enjoying their moment together.

- “And coffee, of course.”- Spencer added, making (Y/N) laugh immediately.

- “Why coffee?”

- “What can I say? It keeps me going.”- Spencer explained, almost apologizing. - “I can’t read 14 books a day without my coffee. I don’t think I could make you come so many times without my daily doses of caffeine.”

- “And what would you do if coffee were illegal?”- (Y/N)’s question kept Spencer quiet for a moment. He was giving serious thought to the question.

- “Well, that would be challenging.”- he answered after a few minutes. - “I would have to get it in the black market and keep everybody in the FBI in the dark about it. I mean, I don’t wanna lose my job over a cup of coffee.”

- “Of course not.”- his girlfriend tried to hold the chuckles as she continued talking.- “And what if you can’t find coffee in the black market?”

- “Then I guess I would have to smuggle it myself.”

- “You? Spencer Reid? transferring illegal goods? I’d pay to see that!”- (Y/N) sounded impressed, amused, and shocked, at the same time. Spencer smiled and ran his fingers down her chest, teasing her as he continued talking.

- “I’d be good, trust me. These hands can do magic.”

- “Oh, believe me, I know!”- she answered chuckling.- “How would you smuggle coffee?”

- “Good questions, love. Good question.”- Spencer smiled as his fingers trailed a path from the soft space between her breast to her belly button, giving (Y/N) goosebumps.- “I guess if I have to make up a simple plan, I would go to Colombia and get the best beans in the back market. I’d hide it like a magician where no one could find them…”

- “In your luggage?”- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow as she questioned Spencer’s idea.

- “Yeah, but inside other things, like books. No one suspects books. And I usually carry a lot with me. So all my books would be filled with sweetly roasted coffee beans.”

- “You are a threat, Spencer.”- (Y/N) replied, giggling. Her boyfriend simply smiled, nodding as he leaned closer to crash her lips with his.

- “I can be. And you love me like this.”

- “Yes, sir. That I do.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #babymetaldoll writes #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff

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jellyfishsthings · 3 months

Text

Nerves and Stolen Kisses

I have been toying with the idea of writing a fic about him for quite sometime and after last weekend I just had to. Estelle ( Ollie's rumoured gf is mentioned here but it is a fake relationship for PR reasons.) Also Paul Aron has a gf... friends to lovers trope.

Shoutout to @httpiastri for the inspiration

The Saudi Arabian Grand Prix was fast approaching. And Ollie was a jumble of nerves and excitement as usual. Since the early hour of the day, he opened the curtains letting the sun into the room and you groaned into the pillow.

“Wakey wakey, sleepyhead. Come on, we have a whole day ahead of us.”

“No, you do. I don't know why I came.”

“Because I am your bestest friend and I paid for your ticket and let you stay with me.”

“Both of which are for your benefit.”

“Come on….”

“Fine.” You say with a dejected sigh as you get up and you both get ready for the day. David, Ollie's dad was already waiting for you and you headed towards the paddock.

Everything was a frenzy and was passing by so quickly. As Ollie got into the garage and got ready for the quali you headed towards the stands trying to find Cassie, Paul's long-term girlfriend. Throughout the years you have formed a unique friendship. She was the only one who knew about your crush on Ollie and she teased you endlessly about it. Ollie and you had been best friends for the better part of your life, joint to the hip, having endless sleepovers, even if Dad didn't approve.

It was an endless nightmare being close enough to get a taste of all the what ifs, but never experiencing them.

“Do you and your lover boy share a room, huh?”

“It's not like that and you know it, Cassandra.”

“Yeah, it hurts, doesn't it?”

“So much. You have no idea. Yesterday I couldn't sleep and as the hours passed, he came closer and closer. He ended up holding me in his sleep. And I felt so bad because of Estelle. I know that they aren't really together and it's for PR, but still, I feel awful because technically I am the other woman… and she is just so nice and sweet. Never overstepping, I think she knows.”

We both stay quiet after that as the session continues.

“You know… whatever the case. You both love each other, platonically or not.”

“Yeah, I know.” I say as I watch the times set by all the drivers, Ollie having the fastest one yet.

“Looks like your man is on pole.”

We both make our way through the paddock, trying to pass the roaring sea of fans and we hand out already-signed autographs to anyone who asks for them. When we finally arrive, we part ways, before making promises about having dinner together at a restaurant Cassie wanted to try. And I head towards the Prema garage finding two beaming Bearmans, hugging.

“Hey Bear. Did you drive fast enough?” You call at him. And he grins like an idiot before swooping you into a tight hug spinning you. His laughter echoes in your ears as he sets you down.

“Yeah I drove fast enough, you minx.”

“Good. Now let's go. We are having dinner with Paul and Cassie in four hours and I want to see the city.”

“Give me five minutes to change and we are good to go.”

The afternoon is spent visiting local stores, trying to communicate in scrappy English and making terrible puns with products or street names. When they finally head to the restaurant their sides hurt from laughing. Dinner passed by as quickly as it came. As everyone says, time flies by when you are with the people you love.

Just as they open the door for their hotel room, Ollie flops in the bed as you head towards your computer and open it as hoards of emails and messages appear on the screen. Great more deadlines and essays to write until the end of the week.

“Leave it. We can pretend that we have nothing to do and watch a movie or local TV and try to understand what the hell is going on.”

“Thanks Bear. But I can't, as tempting as your offer is. Go to sleep, I will join you soon.”

And so you sit in front of your computer, ending essay after essay, sending them on time, until your eyes hurt from the pale blue light. The bed seems more welcoming than ever before as Ollie starfishes the entire length of it and his soft snores fill the empty space. Yeah, maybe it's time to call it a day.

An awful sound echoes in the room and eventually wakes you.

“I swear if it's one more ad I will jump from the window.” You grumble into your pillow as you steal the blankets and turn yourself into a burrito.

Ollie hisses as he opens his phone only to find a ton of messages and many missed calls from Ferrari. He dials Fred back as he moves towards the bathroom, trying to let you steal a few more minutes of much needed sleep.

When he emerges back in the room he sits down in front of you, his back supported on the bed.

“Ols, what's going on?”

“Carlos has an appendix”

“Oh no. Is he having surgery?”

“Yeah.” He says softly. “They want me to replace him.”

“What?” At that you are fully awake. Your hair is a netted nest and you look at him in shock. He looks at you, you his best friend who would look like a mess to anyone else but to him you look like the most beautiful and amazing creature in the world. Your mere presence has a more calming effect on him than anything else. If it weren't for you, he would have already lost his mind. “How? When? I…”

“We need to get to the paddock, if I don't want to miss FP3. I will wake up Dad and break the news to him.”

Soon after you enter the paddock and thousands of reporters try to get a better look at Ollie, flashing their cameras at you and bombarding you with questions as you make your way to the Ferrari garage and mechanics steal Ollie from you and David as they set to work quickly. David looks pale and sick as he paces into the garage trying to control his nerves through the FP3 and the Quali. When Ollie finally got off the car when he scored the 11th place, missing Q2 only by 3 hundreds of a second, you knew that this was it. He was finally shining like the bright star he was. He had done more than enough, his raw talent showing with barely one hour to get used to the car. And as mechanics and reporters closed around him. You couldn't help but feel like you didn't belong here. Where did you fit in? The reality hit you and it hit you hard. You hid in the back corners of the garage, eyes glued to the screen as everyone passed by without acknowledging you. You would happily hide in the shadows where he shined but this world wasn't meant for you. The anxiety was picking up at you, eating you alive from the inside.

And when Ollie got too close to the wall, your heart stopped beating. He was driving a car that was twice as fast and twice as dangerous than his normal F2 car. It was too much. The sound, the danger, everything really. Breathing suddenly seemed so hard and you needed a way out. As you hide behind the garage you call the one person who could understand. Terri picks up in the second ring her soft voice already calming you.

“Hey love. Is everything alright?”

“How do you do it? How can you stand back and do nothing?”

“You love him, don't you sweetheart?”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Well … no I always hoped but… whatever the case, to answer your question you simply do it, you just have to. A driver needs his support system and you are it for him. You are his forever person, whether that is romantically or not. He needs to be near you and as much nervous as you are, so is he. Without you he would be lost, believe me I know my son. And I can bet you that as much as your heart breaks right now, you are also immensely proud.”

“Of course I am. But where do I fit in, in this world.”

“Right beside him, love.”

“Thanks Terri. Please call David. I think he is losing his mind and he is sick with worry.” You say chuckling before saying your goodbyes and head back towards the garage. The session is already over and Ollie is nowhere in sight.

Ollie plays with the power button of his phone trying to calm down but to no avail. The lock screen is a photo of the two of you. It was last summer both your skins flushed and hair slightly wet and tangled. You both smile at the camera and your eyes look bright with happiness. He feels slightly lighter but he knows that there is an impending panic attack and so he turns to the one person who could help him in this situation.

"I got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "How are you doing?”

Ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. His eyes are stuck on the floor, his silence is defeaning. When he still doesn't answer, your heart rate picks up. Is something really wrong?

You make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before. Not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year, not when he was cheated out from the Formula 3 championship. Once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight.

"Ollie, talk to me," you plead, holding back the tears that starts to form on your eyes and threatento spill. It's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. Not now, not when he needs you this much.

"I'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "I'm so nervous, I don't know what to do."

It's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. Ollie, your usually so calm and collected best friend is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. He is a messy jumble of nerves.

"I get that. One hundred per cent. But.." your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "This is your dream. It's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance.”

"And it's not just any car, it's a Ferrari. Do you realize how cool that is? Do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" You smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. Even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous, not that you would ever tell him that. "You would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."

"But what if I ruin it?" His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "What if I go out there and I'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've made by even putting me in the academy? What if-"

"It won't happen." His eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "You're too good to do that. You'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."

Finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. It's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "I'll try my best to make you proud."

“I'm always proud of you, you mufflehead.”

A laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. His heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second now. But his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter. And soon enough his heartbeat slows to normal.

“I bet that in twenty four hours not only will you finish the race, you will score points and beat Max Verstappen.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves” he says chuckling. “God, my neck is killing me.”

“Sit down. I've got you.” And so you start massaging his neck. It's stiff and hard under your hands and he lets a small groan as you untangle one of the knots that were quite painful. After a few minutes he is putty in your hands, his eyes closed, trusting you completely and feeling at ease for the first time in the past two days.

True to your world, Ollie crosses the finish line in seventh place, having gained points in his debut. But the one thing that kept him calm through the process was the thought that she was waiting for him in the cool down room. When the race finishes and drives the car back home he jumps from his seat and he can't get fast enough to her. People around him are praising him and congratulating him but they all fall to deaf eyes.

When he finally gets into the room to change into new fireproofs, she is patiently waiting for him. Her eyes are a little misty and her face flushed.

“I told you.”

“I didn't beat Max.”

“Still.”

She closes in on him and her hands are thrown around his neck, he reciprocates the hug immediately as his heart beat finally slows down. They doth draw away after a while only for him to dive back into her and kiss her firmly on the lips. Shock petrifies her and when he stops, he places his forehead on top of hers. He is a flustered mess and he is mumbling apologies, before she reconnects their lips.

For the following hours Ollie sports a shit-eating grin on his face. Everyone thinks that it is because of his amazing performance and not for kissing the girl that held his heart captive since they were five years old.

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