#i think i’m angry about too much recently
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・❥・- just for you.
summary: kate takes her anger out on you after a hard loss. (more gentle tho cause she doesn’t have the heart to hurt you 😞😞😞) + lil bit of aftercare at the end ;3
warnings: 18+ ASFUCK! SMUT MDNI! strap on use… lol
RPF!
a/n: ik i been lacking recently but i’ve grown some more motivation to do something since i’m kinda stuck at home. also almost broke my arm yesterday hahah 🥸 also not much dialogue tbh i’ve never been good at that cuz i dont talk to ppl 😭 AND i didn’t know how to end sozzzzzz!!!!
it was the toughest lost of kate’s college career, especially considering the fact that it was her last year at UOI. the only thing she wanted was to have the championship title, just once. but the team couldn’t do it.
you saw her put all her blood sweat and tears onto that court. the way she tried to make as many shots, as many blocks as she could, and as many fouls as she could draw. the way you watched her cry while she walked into the tunnel absolutely broke you.
when she got home the air between you two grew extremely thick. you couldn’t tell if she was angry or even over it at all. she wasn’t crying, just real quiet. and being the good girlfriend you were, you didn’t bother to push any of her buttons, no matter how much you wanted to just keep her company.
kate would either be sitting on the couch, on her phone, continuously walking around the apartment, sitting in random spots on the floor, in the kitchen. she’d be anywhere and everywhere. all she wanted to do was get her mind off of it, for a little bit.
“are you okay?” you speak amidst the quiet environment that had been lingering for god knows how many hours. you didn’t try to speak either because it felt like she’d just ignore you or give you a nasty look cause she wasn’t feeling so good about it. “i’m fine.” kate murmurs and looks up at you from the clasped hands on her face. the tone she gives you makes it known that she isn’t.
“yeah, right.” a scoff leaves from your lips and the mood changes almost immediately. your eyes dart towards kate and the look that she’s giving you makes it feel like a million daggers are being dug into your back. her face stiffens up and so does your body when you realize that she’s 100% angry.
you know that it isn’t your fault, but now it really feels like it was. “do you think that’s funny or something?” when you hear that, it’s obvious that you’ve fucked up. you can’t muster up anything in response cause you know that it’ll make it worse. not for her, but for you.
but there’s just something about kate that drives you insane when she’s fired up.
“no.” you swallow.
“exactly! don’t fuckin’ go around and laugh about it, if it isn’t funny! are we clear?”
she grunts and lets out a heavy breath when you stand there all quiet and unresponsive. she hates that. its the one thing that makes kate tick the most, other than losing a game that important to her. “answer me.”
you don’t respond. and the look of anger on kate’s face grows much more apparent. “c’mon!” she groans and quickly slides off of the bed. her fingers grip at the collar of your shirt, her rapid breaths brushing harshly against your face.
she tugs your body up against hers and a small whine escapes from in between your lips. kate is giving those eyes that make you shiver all over the place. “y- yes, we’re clear…” you choke out and look away. you can’t stand seeing her angry but its also the fact that it turns you on too.
your voice makes it seem like you aren’t very sincere about saying that though, and that makes her tick even more. kate’s teeth grit together and a sharp breath makes its way through them, her fingers inching closer towards the waistband of your jeans.
“yeah? you sure?” kate teases and starts to unbutton them. her voice deepens and the cold air that meets your now exposed skin makes the shivers feel more like a billion daggers going through your body. her hands cup your waist, a newfound lust taking over the look in kate’s eyes. “doesn’t seem so sincere…” she husks out.
“i mean it! god, you can’t believe me even when i mean it the most.” you sigh and stare at the jeans puddling around your feet. when you bend over to pick them back up and put them on again, kate’s fingers wrap around your sleeve and she pulls you up, drawing a quiet ‘tsk’ sound from your mouth. “just… let me fuck your brains out until i get you to really mean it.”
she tugs you up against her again, her front subtly grinding against yours. and now you can actually feel it. her stupid fucking strap. your eyes dart towards hers momentarily before they inch away. the embarrassment you feel is incredibly strong. you’re wet, and now you can’t even look her in the eyes.
before you even get a chance to speak, kate’s hand falls on the dip of your back and you’re face first into the foot of the mattress. the side of your head presses against it again to get a breather, the sound of kate unzipping her jeans rapidly, and the tip of the strap making contact with your body.
one of her hands grabs both of yours and pins them backwards, the other hand trailing up and down your body and towards the waistband of your panties. in one swift movement, they’re off and on the floor. you have no clue where, but they’re somewhere in that room. as much as you’re trying to resist, you can’t
“c’mon, baby. don’t fight it, please.” kate pleads and leans over your body to bury her face into your neck. her teeth dig into the side of it and you let out a wince, struggling to move your hands while she keeps them in a lock. kate’s breath tickles at your skin while she pulls away, the hand she has on your waist moving away to line herself up with your entrance.
she doesn’t even give you a warning before she slides in. the only thing that makes it known that you’re getting absolutely filled up is the groan kate lets out when she goes in all the way. you let out a huge whimper and eventually start to feel it. “fuck!… oh my god.” you babble and feel kate leaning toward your face again, her breathing hitting your skin, leaving behind dark marks on the base of your neck.
the more you moan and whine into the sheets, the more it fuels her to keep going. she thrusts into you as hard as she can, her hand letting go of the two she’s been holding, and yanks at your hair to pull your head up. “you fuckin’ feel that, baby? that’s all for you.” kate grunts, smashing her lips against yours and pulling your hair again. “just for you..” a hurried ‘mhm’ escapes your lips, your voice left limited.
your whimpers mix into the kiss as you constantly punch at the bed the harder she drives into you. her teeth tug at your bottom lip and your head moves away the more you feel yourself start to sweat uncontrollably. hair sticks to the side of your head and to your forehead, kate gently brushing them out of your face to keep that prolonged eye contact.
“you’re so beautiful, i swear.”
“hmphh—! you’re going too-“
you get cut off the second you feel the turns in your stomach and the blood rush to your face. that familiar feeling burns brightly in your belly and the knot that had been there forever finally becomes undone. you end up finishing, the overwhelming sensation dying down almost instantly.
kate rolls off of you and notices the water buildup in your eyes, her thumbs running across the bottom of them to wipe them away. she lets out a small sigh and scoots a little bit closer to you, eyeing down the hickeys she left on your skin. “i’m sorry, baby.” she whispers softly and cups your face with her palms.
her lips connect onto your neck and she peppers gentle kisses all over each hickey. the contrast from her rough nature to eventually turning into that natural soft, sweet woman you fell in love with the second she sees you like this. “let me fix you a warm bath, okay? for the troubles.” she whispers in between smooches, her hand snaking up your shirt, and her nails dragging softly against your back.
“duh. you know just how i like it.”
“why would i not.” she lets out a scoff and pulls away quickly, a small smile crossing her face when you agree. “was that a scoff?” you mutter and raise your eyebrows. hers do too, and her lips narrow into a straight line. “what about it?”
well, that was the small thing that got you here in the first place.
#be gentle abt this one i know it lowk sucks#kate martin#kate martin x reader#wcbb x you#wbb x reader#wcbb x reader
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i feel like i’m living a double life and i’m so tired. tw for venting but ugh i’m so… i keep thinking about it. i’ll put a cut to hide the vent but it’s just me.. rambling abt genders and stuff.
but i look around my room and i see my deadname, i see christian related items from my gran and mother and items i only cling onto to please them. i can’t use kai irl.. i can’t use my pronouns irl.. i can’t openly practise judaism irl (anymore since my dad left)
i feel so… fake. i have to refer to myself a daughter, a sister, she/her, everything. like my life is a lie. but i’m not comfortable at all and the chances i’ll ever be me irl are so slim…
i keep thinking about how if i get a partner i’m going to struggle because i’m supposed to be straight and cis… this is tearing me apart and i’d probably solve this if it was safe for me to come out but every time someone says my deadname i think i just… realise my situation a little more.
#and the chances of me dating someone who is also not cishetero are high which means im also gonna struggle with my family there#like FUCK#screams#slams head against wall#i think i’m angry about too much recently#i want cuddles and my hair played with and sigh. i’m not getting it#i’m just getting more struggles
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Today is good I think. My brain isn’t fully happy my body isn’t fully happy but I’m treating myself kindly anyways
#I hate you chemical imbalance in my brain everything is going so incredible and I’m still not happy I’m only content#I picked up weed went for a drive hung out with my mom swam in the pool sat in the sun took a warm shower got high#I think I might journal or read for a bit maybe do a face mask while I read and smoke#watching Rick and morty also counts as self care I think. season three specifically is self care. I know pretty much all the words I’m just#mouthing along the entire epsidoe it’s heavenly#I think I might paint my nails too hmm am I feeling masculine enough to present fem recently. thank you buzzcut I love you buzzcut#I also did my eyeliner today and wore my cute earrings#did I post pocket joe on my dash. I think I forgot him there and he’s gonna be in the car all weekend in an airport parking lot lmao whoops#sorry pocket joe. I’m watching pickle rick epsidoe it’s so good. it’s beautiful out today even tho it’s sunny and I don’t think I’m burnt so#that’s incredible and then also when I took my warm shower I used my body scrub I haven’t used in like months and now my arms and legs feel#super soft it’s fantastic I am in a good mood today I just have to think really hard to actually feel it bc I have a headache and cramps#(still. not. fucking. bleeding. ANGRY.)#and I’m still sad about my middle school teacher dieing but I’m trying not to think about it so it’s fine
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PUPPY LOVE ★ CS55
PAIRING ✦ carlos sainz x fem!dog sitter!reader
SUMMARY ✦ you work as a dog sitter, and you somehow wind up dog-sitting for a f1 driver. [ SMAU ]
WARNINGS ✦ cursing
NOTES ✦ reader lives in spain & can speak spanish, but isn't originally from spain ( you can decide where! ) i'm not a native spanish speaker, so please correct me if there are some inconsistencies! i know the dog i used for piñon isn't exactly accurate but please just pretend they look the same!! the fc i've used is christina nadin, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)
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yourusername i loveee my job 🐕💗
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yourbsf i think you love the dogs more than you love me
yourusername you'd be right about that ❤️
yourbsf mi mejor amigaaaa!! ( my best friend )
yourusername te amoooo💗 ( i love you )
user1 millie loveddd you! i'd love for you to sit for me again!
yourusername awww i loved millie too! thank you so so muchh 💗
carlossainz55
( caption: need a dog sitter! please reply with recommendations. must be located in Spain & can look after Piñon for just over a week )
yourbsf holaaa! my best friend is a dog sitter, and i'm sure she'd be happy to look after Piñon for you!
carlossainz55 That would be great! Could i have her instagram?
yourbsf sorry still in shock you actually replied LOL, it's @ yourusername!
carlossainz55 Muchas gracias!! ( thank you very much )
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yourusername i look after a lot of dogs, but you will forever be my top bitch ( pun very much intended ) feliz cumpleaños daisy!! mami te quiere mucho 💗 ( happy birthday daisy!! mommy loves you very much )
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yourbsf FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS DAISYYY!!
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carlossainz55 Daisy es muyyy linda ❤️ ( daisy is veryyy cute )
yourusername siiii!! ( yessss!! )
user2 OMG CARLOS??
user3 SIR WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE
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INSTAGRAM DMS
carlossainz55 Hey this is y/n, right?
yourusername NO WAY THEEE CARLOS SAINZ IS DMING ME
but yes it is :) anything i can help you with?
carlossainz55 Your friend mentioned that you were a dog sitter?
@/yourbsf
yourusername yeah i am a dog sitter!! did you need someone to look after ur dog?
carlossainz55 Yeah I did, actually!
I was wondering if you could look after my dog Piñon for the week? I’m going to be away, and my parents are away so they can't look after him right now
yourusername OH MY GOD YES
i'm so sorry that reaction was so out of character 😭😭 but yes i'd love to look after him!
carlossainz55 Muchas gracias! I'll message you further details later if that's alright?
yourusername ningún problema! yeah that's fine with me! :) ( no problem! )
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carlossainz55
( caption: Missing you already Piñon!! ❤️ )
yourusername
( caption: new best friend unlocked 🔓 )
carlossainz55 Umm he's actually my best friend??
yourusername nuh uh i've claimed him while you're away ❤️❤️
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yourusername my latest charge is wayyy too cute 💗
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yourbsf can’t pick who’s cuter: you or piñon
yourusername we both know it’s piñon ❤️❤️
user4 wait who is sheee??
user5 carlos is in her likes!! i’m pretty sure that’s piñon she’s dog sitting ❤️
user6 whoever she is she is stunninggg!!
carlossainz55 Good to see that you’re looking after Piñon!
yourusername geniallll!! ( brilliantttt!! )
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yourusername life recently 🪩
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user12 she is literally a goddessss!!
yourusername aw thank you baby!!
user13 y/n why do you look so angry in the first photo HELP
yourusername can’t remember but i think @/yourbsf had stolen some of my soft serve :(
user14 does she speak spanish??
yourusername when i was younger i moved to spain, so i can speak spanish fairly well!
user14 omg i can speak spanish asw!! eres tan bonita por cierto 💕 ( you are so pretty by the way )
yourusername muchas gracias!! 💗💗
user15 no daisy?? ☹️
yourusername daisy content will be returning, i promise!!
carlossainz55 ❤️
yourusername 💗💗
user16 stop theyre sooo cute i can’t handle it
yourbsf that pasta was so delicioussss
yourusername siii!!
user17 her replying to pretty much all of the comments is the cutest thing everrr she’s such a sweetheart
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carlossainz55 Training almost over 🤝
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charlesleclerc new season about to start 🏎️
carlossainz55 Yess 👊
scuderiaferrari exciting times ahead!
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user18 woweeee
user19 hand in marriage yes or yes??
user20 i’m waiting for y/n’s comment
user21 sameee!!
yourusername that viewwww 💗
carlossainz55 The mountains or me??
yourusername don’t flatter urself hon 😊
user20 @/user21 HERE THEY ARE
user21 THEIR DYNAMICCC UGH
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yourusername last day w piñon ☹️💗 ft daisy!!
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user22 DAISY'S BACKKKK
user23 amamos a daisyyy!! ( we love daisyyy!! )
yourusername siii!! 💗
user24 ella es tan perfecta 💞 ( she is so perfect )
yourusername no tuuuuu 💗 ( no youuuu )
carlossainz55 Only one more day!❤️
yourusername ur saying that like it's a good thing :((
carlossainz55 You can always come and visit him!
user25 dont ask me why but i just KNOW she smells like vanilla
yourusername no stopp that's literally my perfume scent asw
user25 NO WAYYY LOOLLL
user26 @/carlossainz55 you taking notes??
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yourusername PIÑONNN!! ¡daisy y yo hemos pasado el mejor momento contigo esta semana! te amoooo 💗💗 ( daisy and i had the best time with you this week! i love you )
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user31 NO MORE Y/N AND PIÑON CONTENT NOOOO
yourusername ☹️☹️
user32 okay but surely this isn't the end of carlos and y/n...right?? RIGHT??
user33 no it acc can't be i'll never stop crying.
carlossainz55 Thanks again for looking after Piñon!! ❤️
yourusername ofccc!! you WILL let me visit him or else 😁
yourbsf okay but ur cute.
yourusername you're cuterrrr
user34 guysss this isn't the end i'm so sure they'll still be interacting w each other!!
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yourusername night away from the dogs 🌃
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user35 CARLOS CAN YOU FIGHT.
user36 hand in marriage?? 💍
yourusername betttt!! 💗
yourbsf MY BEST FRIEND LADIES AND GENTLEMEN
yourusername TE AMOOOO
carlossainz55 ❤️❤️
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user37 SO WE ALL SAW CARLOS' COMMENT??
user38 TWO WEEKS ON AND HE'S BACK AGAIN
user39 idc they're too cute
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yourusername 📍bahrain 💗
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user45 THE FERRARI MERCH SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE'S DOING
user46 she's soo soft i love her
yourusername 💗💗
user47 SO IT'S BASICALLY CONFIRMED NOW
user48 the press have literally basically confirmed it for them, we're all just waiting until they say it themselves
yourbsf my best frienddddd 😁😁
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carlossainz55 Red suits you ❤️
user49 HURRY UP AND ANNOUNCE IT PLEASE.
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carlossainz55 🏆 P3!! Great start to the season, and no one else I'd rather start it with ❤️
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user50 EVERYONE STAY CALM THIS IS FINALLY HAPPENING.
user51 BRB CURRENTLY SCREAMING
user53 PODIUM FINISH & HARD LAUNCH?? SOOO HAPPY RN.
user54 CARLOS SAINZZZZ ❤️❤️
yourusername 💗💗
carlossainz55 ❤️
user55 THE WAY SHE USES 💗 AND HE USES ❤️ MY HEART CAN'T HANDLE THIS
charlesleclerc about time 🙌❤️
user56 HA CHARLES IS A REAL ONE
user57 officially my favorite couple on the grid.
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yourusername forza ferrari 💗
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user58 hey alexa, play lover by taylor swift
yourusername omg i love taylor 💗💗
user59 if carlos ever fumbles you pls hit my line
yourusername @/carlossainz55 you've been warned!!
user60 POWER COUPLE ALERT
user61 she's actually so perfect it's scary
yourbsf FINALLY. I'VE BEEN WAITING.
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user62 KILL ME NOW THEY ARE ADORABLE.
user63 the way she still likes all of the comments actually has me crying why is she the cutest.
carlossainz55 siempre ❤️ ( always )
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#f1 imagines#formula 1#f1 x reader#smau#carlos sainz#f1 fanfic#f1 smau#f1 social media au#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz imagine#formula one x y/n#formula one x reader#formula one x you#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#mclqren
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literally anytime i see dre*m stans attack someone for insulting or even just. criticizing him, they always go “but he gets death threats!! he had the fbi tell him he had a threat on his life!!” bestie that is not a free pass for no one to be allowed to be “mean” to him. he is allowed to be criticized, especially when his list of “mistakes” is fucking long as fuck, and recent as fuck.
he told a joke that was in poor fucking taste and zach made a joke that maybe was a little heat of the moment but y’all are acting like he told him to kill himself. dude just said “maybe he was right to be bullied bc he made a shitty joke that wasn’t his to make and that honestly minimized the harm the poster who he replied to (k*nye) was doing” like your like “this on the same level as death threats” stfu
#mia rambles#y’all love to baby him so much that is a grown man#he made a bad joke!! you are allowed fo acknowledge that instead of telling a jewish man!! that he’s wrong to be upset at it#bc you say ‘it’s obviously a joke’ ?? what are you middle schoolers?? actually yeah tbf but too many of you are grown#y’all will excuse RECENT racism like ‘uwu we all make mistakes’ and then turn around and DEFEND his mistakes even his awful ones#and then if anything says something slightly mean you attack them#i have no idea why this is the thing that made me write an angry tumblr post but. here we are#i don’t even like. hate him. i don’t like him but like. i don’t care about him nor really think about him#however. twitter keeps fucking pushing me mcyt tweets specifically dre@m posts and the other mediocre white men#despite me constantly telling them to stop showing me it#and i follow zach do this like was extra pushed on me today#i’m not even like angry?? i’m just passionate yknow idk
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Angsty Little Coda to 7.6 because I couldn’t get the look on Margaret Buckley’s face out of my head but don’t worry it has a happy ending
*Now edited and on Ao3*
G / 1k / TW for bad parents
“Evan, have you got a moment?”
Five words from his mother and Buck falls off cloud nine and crashes back to nineteen years old.
But Chimney’s alive and okay. Maddie’s glowing beside him in her gown. Everyone’s chatting and eating the overpriced (but admittedly delicious) wedding cake. It feels like a family gathering, and Buck won’t cause a scene in front of his family.
“Yeah, sure,” he says. Tommy gives his hand a gentle squeeze. Says I’ll be right here with just his eyes. Buck squeezes back, and follows his mom into the corridor.
“Come here.” She pulls a tissue from her pocket with one hand, grabs his chin with the other and starts wiping away the soot Tommy had left on his face when they reunited. “So. What’s all this then?”
It’s a trap, he knows.
“What’s all what?” he deflects.
“All this.” She waves her hand at his face, then towards the hospital room where Tommy is visible through the glass door. “You’re an adult now, Evan. I thought you knew better than to upstage your sister on her wedding day.”
Oh great. Accused of doing exactly what he’s trying not to do. It would be funny if it wasn’t frustrating.
“Second wedding,” he mutters under his breath. Just because Maddie was happy to forgive her parents for missing the first one, doesn't mean Buck has to let it go too.
“Excuse me?”
“I said she knows,” he corrects. This is a happy day. Chim is alive. Maddie is beautiful. Tommy is waiting for him. Things are good. He’s not arguing with his mother. “Maddie. I told her about Tommy weeks ago. She was the first person I told, actually. And she told me to bring him to the wedding, if I wanted to. The only one here who seems to have a problem with it is you.”
His mom scoffs at that, and lets go of his face.
“I’m not homophobic.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“I just don’t think it’s right, springing it on your father like that.” She tuts at him. Like he’s nineteen, fifteen, twelve, eight years old. He almost liked it when she was disappointed in him. At least she was paying attention. “He’s getting older. His heart.”
“You think me having a boyfriend is going to give dad a heart attack?” He laughs at the absurdity of it all. “Do you think we should get him outta that room before he realizes Hen and Karen are lesbians?”
“Evan.” How she manages to say his name with some much judgment when she’s the one who names him, he’ll never know. “It’s different. When you find out your own child has been lying to you for years. And all those girls you’d string along...”
She looks hurt, but not angry, which is its own kind of fucked up. It’s not fair. She doesn’t get to be sad about this.
Not when things are finally feeling good, and safe, and right. When Tommy feels right.
“I wasn’t lying.” It’s maybe more of the truth than she deserves.
“I don’t see how that can be true if you’re gay.”
“Well I’m bi, actually. And I only just-“ he scrubs a hand over his face, probably spreading the soot around worse. “It’s a recent development, okay? That’s why people didn’t know. ‘Cause it’s new. And Tommy and I are taking it slow.”
“I suppose that’s a first for you too, Evan?” she snipes and it’s goddamn unfair because who is she to ask him that? To judge his life when she’s never so much as pretended to take an interest in it?
He has options, now. He could storm off. He could say something worse. He could say something worse, something about dead children and how they can’t disappoint you like the ones who are still alive and then storm off.
She’s not worth it, says a voice in his head. It sounds a lot like Eddie, and Bobby; like Maddie, and Chim, and Hen, and Tommy.
Like someone who actually cares about him.
“Can we just… not?” he asks, and for a second Buck thinks she might actually refuse. Might force the point, but she lets out an unnecessarily weary sigh and nods. “Can’t we go back to the party, and enjoy what’s left of the day?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I want that?” Buck doesn’t even attempt to answer that one. “Just let me get you looking respectable again and we can go back.” She grabs at his face once more.
“Buck! Chim wants you back for a team photo,” Maddie says, bursting out of Chimney’s room in a cloud of tulle. Just in time to witness his humiliation. Great. “Aww, you’re wiping it off?”
“Of course he is,” their mom says. She’s scratching at his face with the tissue. Speaking for him like he can’t answer on his own. “It’s your wedding, Maddie. I won’t let him show you and Howard up.”
Buck takes a deep breath and smiles thinly as his sister furrows her brows.
“Oh, well, Chim said he wanted a photo with your face all dirty.” She laughs sweetly, and grabs Buck’s arm. “He wants to capture every detail of the day.”
“Oh,” Buck says eloquently as he lets his sister pull him back into Chimney’s room. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” she assures him.
“No it isn’t,” Chim cuts in from his bed. “Tommy, again. I want that photo!”
And Buck laughs, because it’s silly, and because he knows his family loves him. He asks, “Do we have to?” not because he doesn’t want to, but because it’s Maddie and Chim’s day, and he never wanted to steal their spotlight, even for a moment.
“Oh absolutely you do, Mister,” Maddie tells him, with just enough tease that he knows she wouldn’t force it if he protested. “Our wedding, our rules.”
Buck has no interest in protesting, instead he turns towards Tommy, who’d been a shockingly good sport about this. Buck’s sure he’s exhausted; probably desperate to get back to his apartment and shower off the day. Kinda wants to join him there if he’s being completely honest with himself.
“Well?” Tommy asks, interrupting his steamy fantasy.
Buck bites his lip like he's a teenager again.
“Hi.”
“H-“ Buck interrupts Tommy’s reply with his lips, far softer than before.
He’ll never ask how his mom reacted - whether she rolled her eyes, or pursed her lips or looked, even for a moment, proud of him - but Buck’s family cheers and jeers and whistles their support.
And he feels free.
#is it silly and indulgent? yes!! this is the being silly and indulgent website#911 spoilers#911 abc#evan buckley#bucktommy#tevan#bucktommy fic#tommy kinard#um i will edit & ao3 this later ok i gotta get back on the floor lol
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hey lovely! if you’re up to it, would you be able to write something w james or remus with comforting a reader who’s insecure about her skin/having broken out? i’m totally not projecting (i get chronic rashes on my face and one broke out recently and it’s making me sooo self conscious because my birthday is soon and i wanted to feel pretty 😖)
thank you!! mwah!!!
xoxo @mareagirls
Hi Rosa my love! Thank you for requesting and happy early birthday!!
cw: reader is insecure about her skin
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 750 words
You scrub at your skin with your fingertips, pads pressing harshly as you distribute the cleanser over your face. Then turn the tap as cold as it can go, splashing water and scrubbing again to make sure the product is all gone.
“Alright, enough of that,” says Remus as you towel your face dry. You look up to see your boyfriend watching you in the mirror from the bedroom. He tents his book beside him on the bed, beckoning you over. “Come here, bring your stuff.”
You turn around to look at him. “Why?”
You can see Remus intentionally smoothing the pique from his expression, gentling it into something kinder. “Just come sit with me, please.”
You gather your things off the bathroom counter, carrying them into the bedroom and plopping down in front of him on the bed. Remus knows your routine. He takes a washcloth from you wordlessly, wetting it with product.
“Close your eyes.”
You do, and he starts swiping the product gently over your skin, starting at your jawline and working his way slowly upwards, following the planes of your face. His free hand is wrapped loosely around the side of your neck to steady the both of you.
“Why are you doing this?” you murmur, trying not to move your face as you speak.
“Couldn’t stand seeing you look so angry with yourself,” Remus replies, matching your volume. His voice is low and raspy, inlaid still with traces of frustration. You hadn’t realized you had been looking like that. “S’like you’ve no idea how pretty you are.”
There’s a thick pause. The washcloth shushes over the skin of your forehead, and you can feel Remus’ gaze boring into your shuttered lids.
“I know you think I just say that,” he says, setting the washcloth down on your leg. You open your eyes, and he’s squirting moisturizer onto the pad of his index finger. His eyes flit up to yours, the color of honey or perfectly steeped tea. You look away. “I don’t. I wouldn’t bother saying anything if you weren’t as lovely as you are, and it’s insane that you don’t know it yourself. I mean, we’re looking at the same face, aren’t we?”
Your lips twist upwards as you close your eyes and Remus sets his hands to your face again. He smooths the moisturizer into your skin with thorough, loving strokes.
“I do feel pretty, sometimes,” you admit. “Just not so much when my skin is acting up like this.”
“Not sure how that changes anything.” His voice is gruff, audibly judgemental in the way you’re sure only he can manage. It coaxes a soft laugh from you, and Remus’ thumb swipes extra affectionately over your cheekbone, approving. His tone lightens. “Really, dove, it’s not like the rest of you just disappears because you’ve broken out. You’re just as lovely. I’m not sure anything could change that, short of reconstructive surgery I suppose.”
You roll your eyes. They’re still closed, but you hope he sees the motion anyway. “You’re being too nice to me. I know it’ll go away eventually, but it’s still not the same as when my skin is clear.”
“It’s not,” Remus allows. “Of course it’s not the same. But that’s like saying I’m not the same with my scars as I was without them. And I still managed to snag you all mangled-looking.”
You open your eyes, despite his hands still moving over your face. “You’re not mangled-looking,” you say. You know Remus knows this, but it feels important to tell him anyway. “I love you with your scars.”
He smiles softly, and you close your eyes again, satisfied. “Then you see what I’m getting at,” he says. “I love you like this, just the same as when your skin looked a bit different.” His touch arcs over your eyebrow. “And everyone else loves you just the same, too.”
You hum, a pleased sort of capitulation. “You’re such a sweet talker.”
“Doesn’t take much imagination to tell the truth.” You can hear Remus’ smile. “You’re always lovely, dove, but I like you best when you look like you feel lovely, too.”
“I’ll try,” you say. He hums satisfiedly, thumbs brushing twin paths across your cheeks. “Is there really still product to rub in?”
“Mm, not strictly speaking.” Remus’ lips press, soft and sweet, to your freshly moisturized cheek. He doesn’t seem to mind the bumps. “But I think I’d better do this a while longer just to be sure.”
#remus lupin#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin hurt/comfort#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin oneshot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#the marauders#marauders fandom#marauders era#hp marauders#marauders x reader
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A Doe in Fall (Part 3)
⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦
Part 2 - Liar smut💦
Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦
Part 4 - Enough
Part 5 - Too Much
Part 6 - Learning smut💦
Part 3 A tragedy
So enraptured with Alastor, you forgot how you left work on Saturday. Tommy didn’t forget. And he made sure you remembered. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for you, your paramour made a habit of helping quicken karma’s balancing act.
「warnings/promises: immediate physical assault (let’s be up front about that), allusions to sexual assaults having happened in the past to non-reader characters, HumanAlastor x FemReader, penetrative sex, Protective Alastor, bruises, somewhat graphic descriptions of murder, mentions to coerced prostitution, sex near a corpse (words that have the FBI watching me), stabbing, knife, bad burlesque names, gambling, my own new HC for the Radio Demon’s origins, another deer reference thanks to @n-after-me , chin quivering, Tommy doesn’t know French and it shows, posted early for @jazzmasternot, wrath」
Minors DNI 🤺
You walked into the theatre for rehearsals with a pep in your step, body still humming. It was like the usual adrenaline rush Alastor brought couldn't fade this time.
But it did, when Tommy grabbed you by the hair out of your makeup chair and threw you into the wall.
You couldn’t react, head ringing after it left a small indent in the drywall. Unlike before, you didn’t try to stand. Make him work for his second hit. And he did. Leaning down he yanked you off the ground by your arm and dragged you to your feet.
“Do you think you’re funny?” He shook you, you were sure you could feel your brain jostle. It was rhetorical, but you replied anyway.
“No, Tommy.”
“No. Exactly.” He backed you up onto the make up table, head pressed into the mirror. “Mr. Wilson was not happy. He pulled his contribution. I know you don’t have that kind of money. Do you know what you’re gonna do?”
His fingers dug into your cheeks, “No.” You genuinely didn’t. He was talking to you like you had been in the loop on whatever it was he had been doing on the side. All of this was as shocking to you as your actions were, apparently, to him.
“You’re gonna take whatever meetings I make until that money is back.” He let go of you and turned to leave but changed his mind. Coming back, he swung his fist and clocked you on the left side of your face.
You didn’t see it, but you heard the other girls running and pulling Tommy off of you, yelling and pleading for him to calm down.
“I worked really hard for you!” He shouted, jerking his shoulders out from under the hands of the other performers. What was he talking about? You hadn’t discussed any of this, asked for any thing from him. “I waited for a high roller for you. Real classy guy. Just wanted a private show! That was it!” He spit, “No, every Tom, Dick, and Harry is welcome now to ask for your time.”
You just held your face, unsure if you had the right makeup to hide the bruise before stage call.
“Well?! Say you’re sorry.”
You considered not saying anything. No response. When you looked at him, you could see the half a dozen other girls staring back at you, just say it. We have to rehearse.
“I’m sorry.” Eyes cast to the floor.
“For what?”
It hurt when you rolled your eyes, “For being ungrateful?”
He shoulder checked a few girls on the way out. A couple came to you.
“He’s got some gambling debt, he’s just using us to get ahead.”
“I have some stuff to cover that up for tonight.”
“He usually cuts us in.”
Tears stung your eyes, you were angry and humiliated. You could work elsewhere, with a little luck. Take a job at a diner out of the area where no regulars would stir up trouble. Maybe leave until Tommy got his debts paid off or whatever was motivating this recent streak of cruelty. But you didn’t want to run away. No one applauded waitresses. Maybe if you made yourself as unattractive as possible, no one would request you. Dirty your teeth, talk about other men, speak crudely.
“What exactly was he talking about?” you asked no one in particular. The girls were quiet for a beat.
“Well ya know, private shows for clients who can afford it.” High pitched and nasal, Florence spoke as she searched her make up station.
“That’s it?” Incredulous.
“Sometimes. You know how it is… woman left alone in a room with a man who has too much money or ego or drink. Doesn’t always stop at a dance.” Minnie had much more experience than you, “It isn’t our jobs. It isn’t normal. But, well, ya heard about New York right? They’re trying to make burlesque outright illegal…”
“Gotta enjoy the art while it’s just misunderstood.” Florence wiped down your mirror before setting her supplies down for you. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”
By the time patrons began to stream in, you had blood staining the white of your left eye. Nothing you could do, but maybe at a distance it wouldn’t be noticeable. The bruise under your eye from his fist was easy enough to cover. The contusion from where your right cheek hit the wall was a little harder.
Luckily, the stage offered a buffer of space and the rest of the room was dark.
During your show, you tried to keep your eyes moving so the red sclera never stayed in one place too long. For the first time, the cheers did nothing for you. You felt your chin quiver, fighting back tears. You wanted to scream, to tell them to hate you and leave. Stop fucking clapping.
Ruth was naturally the first to come to you after your performance, “Want me to do the tour with you? Arm in arm around the hall.”
You took her up on the offer. It lightened the load, her taking charge of the conversation when people approached or bought you drinks. Luckily the bartender always poured the performers weak cocktails and watered down liquor to keep their heads on straight.
Ruth’s companionship afforded you precious time to plan, to consider how quickly you could find new work or at least a way out of this.
“What a treat. Two for one. Can I buy you both a drink?”
Ruth turned first to greet the customer, “Ooh yes sir! Gin and tonic, please and thank you. Autumn?” Your stage name drew your attention back to the world, turning finally.
“Alastor.” It fell from your mouth like a lead balloon.
He smiled down at you, his hand offering a little wave, “Hello. Surprise.”
Your face fell, a frown pulling down your chin. It took you too long to recover, batting your eyelashes and turning the corners of your lips up unnaturally.
“So you do have a beau!” Ruth slapped your arm, “I’m Skye, Skye Scraper. Pleasure to meet you, Alastor.” She extended her hand, Alastor planting a kiss on the back of it, concealing his smile at the name.
You tried to keep your eyes on the floor, head turned slightly away from him to obscure the neon sign of an eye shouting, ‘Weak!’
Unfortunately for you, Alastor wasn’t an oblivious man. Unless he was dancing or drunk. “May I have a moment alone with her?” Alastor asked Ruth. Ruth looked to you for your okay, and you just nodded. She gave a little nod of her own to Alastor and slinked away.
“Are you unhappy to see me, dear? Did I overstep by coming by unannounced?” You hadn’t heard him worried before, it pained you.
“No, no! I am… so happy to see you. I just had a long day.” You scanned the room for the darkest area to bring him. A booth would be best, you could keep him on one side of you. You gestured with a nod of your head.
“Ah, I kept you out too late.” Alastor didn’t move.
“Not at all, come on let’s sit down.” You reached back for his hand without looking at him, but when you pulled he still didn’t move. He remembered the way you pulled at the hand of that man in the alley the first night you met. Desperate to escape somewhere.
“Is there a reason you won’t look at me?”
Lie.
“Uh, no, I’m just embarrassed about this heavy stage makeup.”
Alastor paused, hand slipping from yours to adjust his sleeves. It was a nervous action, an attempt to self soothe, but you didn’t know that. “I should have asked before coming.”
“Alastor, it’s not…,” you kept your eyes down at your hands.
“Then look at me.”
Would he think you were incapable of protecting yourself? His pity would kill you. Perhaps he would decide a second rate burlesquer wasn’t worth making time for anymore.
You could intentionally wound him, say you don’t want to see him so he leaves. But that sword was double edged and you weren’t sure you’d survive that either. You weren’t making it out of this.
You finally looked at him. He leaned in, “What happened to your eye?” A slender finger gently tilting your chin upward.
Lie.
You thought too long for an answer. Why were you getting worse at lying? It used to be one of your best shields and swords but now you were so slow on the draw you were left defenseless. Vulnerable. His hand took yours, gently pulling you into the lobby and through the glass doors of the theatre.
Under the bright lights of the marquee and the street lamps, Alastor inspected your face. He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, wetting it in his mouth before wiping the makeup off of your under eye.
“Alastor, people are staring.”
His eyes fell down, soft hands lifting your arm where a bruise was already formed. You hadn’t noticed that one.
“What happened?” He wasn't looking at you when he said it, instead cautiously wiping the makeup off your cheeks in search of more marks.
“The truth or wh-“
“Always. Never give me anything else.”
You sighed, and explained, “Tommy, the manager, he’s been shifting tactics for bringing in money because he owes some big bads a lot of debt. Private shows with performers that sometimes get hands on…,” his hands stopped moving but his eyes didn’t meet yours, “I never asked to be included in it. I wouldn’t do it. I was rude to a man Tommy introduced me to and I ran off Saturday. Yada Yada. He got me as soon as I got to work.”
Alastor didn’t reply, just turned on his heels and marched back into the theater. You chased after him, “I don’t need you to fight my battles!” You tried to get in front of him but he walked right past you.
“Not about what you need, dear, it's about what he deserves.”
Alastor asked the bartender for Tommy, who pointed to the short but stocky man talking to a group of guests. Alastor approached so quickly Tommy didn’t have time to greet him, instead just backing up until he fell ass first into a booth. Alastor boxed him in, one hand on the wall and one on the table, towering over Tommy as he sat.
“I hear you sell dancers by the night.”
You paced the lobby nervously. Would you be fired? What would Alastor say? Would Tommy hit him, too?
He re-emerged, “Come to my car, please.” He didn't stop walking as he said it.
You followed a few blocks down to his car, parked on the street. He opened the passenger door for you and closed it behind you. You wanted to ask if you were going somewhere, but thought better of it. A tight u-turn, he pulled the car into the side street where you’d first met each other.
Wordlessly he got out of the car, you opening your door before he could. Popping the trunk, he set the folded canvas inside a paper bag. Checking first, he placed it inside one of the tin trash cans.
You stood, waiting for an explanation.
Finally he stopped and made eye contact with you. “You have a date tomorrow, with me. Bring this to the apartment above the theater before Tommy and I arrive.” Opening your mouth to speak, he didn’t stop to let you add anything. “Preferably near the bed.” He closed the trunk, “Wear red, please.”
You searched his face for some kind of discernible emotion but found none. Those constricted pupils again, an animal staring back at you from behind a pair of glasses. There was no reason to ask him, it was obvious what was going to happen. Did you want to stop it?
Did you want to see it? Alastor at work?
“Okay. On all the points.” You looked back at the trashcan, “Canvas hidden near the bed. Wear red.”
“The extra clothes can go anywhere out of sight.” He leaned down, kissing your forehead, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Your voice cracked a little, “Wait, you’re leaving already?”
He nodded, “I can’t stay here.” Before getting into his car he turned and added, “Don’t cover the bruises tomorrow. He should see them.”
You nodded in return, “Are you doing this for me?” So quiet you almost hoped he didn’t hear it.
He paused, one leg already in the car and his back to you, “No. I’m doing it for everyone.”
You watched his car light up and leave the alley.
It’s not that you felt abandoned, you felt…. Stranded. You had to go back in there, alone, and put on the normal act but under abnormal conditions.
So it was happening. You hadn’t seen the first time. Just felt it. You didn’t see the second. You were going to actually see a man die. Not just a man, someone you knew. Someone you used to consider a friend of sorts. Before he got into whatever trouble was driving him to act like a flesh peddler. Could you do it? Could you watch a man be killed? Was that even what Alastor had planned?
Tommy found you the second you were back in the room, hand pressing too hard on the bruises he left on your arm. “You have a meeting tomorrow after your show. If you don’t show up,” he yanked you close, putrid breath of dead teeth you’d never been bothered by before this moment and bad booze assaulting your senses, “I will fucking kill you.”
You almost started laughing, bringing your hand to your mouth to hide your smile. “Okay Tommy.”
Fuck it. He was going to die anyway, might as well make it a date.
Ruth saddled up beside you as soon as Tommy was out of earshot, “Look at that smile. Quickie in the alley?”
Disgust, “Jesus, Skye, I was gone like, 5 minutes.” She shrugged. “Why does everyone think — is everyone fucking their daddies* in the side street?” She nodded. “Well, I’m not.”
“Prude.” She joshed before linking your arm in hers again, “We’ve got at least another hour of schmoozing. Tits up!”
Your smile came effortlessly that night, a thrum of excitement keeping you light on your feet. Not excitement for death, but for the very concept of being closer to Alastor. Would you see it happen, in front of you? Or would he have you leave? Either way, you were an active participant with a task list.
He trusted you, even if in a small way. Trust was so rarely given from the people who mattered. Men trusted you often; to be sweet when they tell you they were embarrassed about something, to lie when they ask if you orgasmed, to not steal their cash when they blacked out with their pants still on. Pulling it from strangers was one of your greatest pleasures. But it was easy. You were skilled.
Yet again, like so often now, Alastor was the exception. He didn’t toss himself at your feet. He stood tall in front of you and on his own terms offered you the things you wanted. You didn’t have to pretend to be demure, you didn’t have sit on his lap in silence and nod and laugh. Just yourself, as much as you could allow yourself to exist in the world. No tricks. If his trust was presented wrapped in a bloodied bow, well, you would thank him dearly and wear the ribbon round your neck like a trophy.
Many men spoke to you, but luckily your participation in conversation wasn’t something they really cared about. As they spoke, your eyes were looking past them and into the future.
However there was a sense of dread when you lied in bed that night. The excitement of getting closer to Alastor had melted into the fear there was no going back from this.
Something in your chest stung, a thorn growing from somewhere unknown. Three encounters (that he knew of) and already it seemed your thoughts were more Alastor than yourself. No person had ever made such an impression before. You didn’t like it, but it made you happy. Which is why you didn’t like it. Tying your happiness to another person was a reckless thing to do. You’d seen your mother and half sister both use a man’s attention as a replacement for being happy with themselves and it made them brittle and hollow.
Thinking of what would happen the following night, oddly, you were reminded of losing your virginity. You were a “late bloomer” and were terrified you’d never be you again after. Like something would be taken from you. You fell asleep to that thought, of what you’d lose.
Then you woke, uncharacteristically early, feeling none the bit rested. No dreams. No nightmares. A few seconds of darkness and suddenly it was morning. With the extra time you had you wandered into a department store before going to the theater.
When a sales woman approached you, asking what you were looking for, you were too tired lie.
“A red dress.” You didn’t have the makeup at home to cover your marks, and gave up being worried about it.
Unfortunately, it seemed it wasn’t so odd of a sight; a woman with a black eye.
“What’s the occasion? Apology dinner?” The woman fidgeted with the hangers while looking at you.
You grimaced, “No, a murder.”
She howled, “You are a hoot! Don’t we wish, huh? Let me pull you some options.”
You put the dress on the top of the paper bag, having hidden it under your make up table the previous night. Your fingers were trembling, applying your makeup needing deep breaths and concentration.
“Ruth, can you do my lips?” You turned and handed her the brush.
“The eye looks better.” She took your chin in her hand and painted your mouth a pretty shade of red.
“Thank you.” You offered her a smile but she didn't let go, “What?”
“You ever seen a cornered raccoon? Like one got in the house and your mom boxed it into a corner with a broom?”
A nod, yes, actually, you had.
“Who’s got the broom?” She asked. You knitted your brow, not understanding. “Who’s got you in a corner? Is it Tommy?”
You took your chin back, deep breaths. “No brooms. No corners. Just rattled still from last night.” Not a lie, surprisingly. “You thought of a raccoon? Really? Is it because of the eye?”
When you took your bow for the evening and turned to escape the stage lights for the darkness of backstage, you found Tommy leaning just outside the dressing room.
“Get changed, doors unlocked upstairs. Room 504.”
Grabbing the paper bag you ran through your mental checklist. Wear red, take off your make up, hide the canvas by the bed. An odd to-do list for murder.
The theater had two floors of modest apartments above it, the owners keeping two of the open for the theater’s use. One was for the owners should they ever visit New Orleans, and the other was multi use. Storage and a crash pad for performers or Tommy when he worked late.
The bag crinkled as you hugged it, looking over the small apartment. Boxes, decorations, a modest kitchen and a bed. The bathroom was quite large, a tub and shower head. Was this where the other performers went?
Why hadn’t anyone said anything sooner? Why didn’t anyone leave yet?
Taking a second, you got to work. You opened the canvas and slid it under the bed, the smallest bit of edge sticking out for easy retrieval. Dizzy with the quickly settling reality of what you were doing, you sat on the floor for a moment. Trying to calm your breathing, you closed your eyes.
The fear of the unknown was suffocating you. There was a possibility Alastor failed and ended up hurt. Or, that he changed his mind and Tommy left you two to just hold hands on the bed for a sex-appropriate amount of time.
You patted your thighs and stood up. No time now for a panic attack. Alastor had a change of clothes in the bag, neatly folded and tied in twine. They were set onto the shelf above the closet.
And finally, yourself. Your dress was on and you stopped to wipe the make up off your face in the bathroom mirror. Still bruised, still nasty. The dress was nice though, carrying some of the weight for your battered mug. Red cotton, sailor neck and little gold buttons down the front. Flashy, brighter than the dark number you usually wore.
Would he like it? Most men looked for how a dress accentuated your curves (or hid them) but you had a feeling Alastor didn’t care so much about that.
You took your seat at the edge of the bed, thin mattress sagging from your weight.
The clock ticked, until finally the door opened and you saw something you hadn’t seen before and knew you’d never see again. Tommy and Alastor.
“Here she is. Autumn, this is Mr. Cerf. He's asked I stay in the apartment, apparently word of your attitude already spread among the upperclass.” Tommy wagged his finger at you in a playful way that was entirely out of place.
“Look at her. Pouting. Not very excited, is she?” Alastor smiled at you, softly. You felt for a second that maybe you entirely misunderstood. He looked calm, normal. Even peaceful.
“It’s always nice when they fight a little. But she won’t cause you any trouble.” Tommy patted Alastor’s back, who immediately shirked away.
“Do you like it when women try to fight you off, Tommy?”
A dry laugh, “Ya know how it is. They gotta act like they don’t like it so people still respect ‘em.”
A hum. Alastor’s smile falling entirely. A shadow settled over his face. “I see. That does make things easier.” He slipped on his short black gloves. “I always tell her she looks lovely in red. She rarely listens to me, but I’m happy to see she did tonight. It’s a special occasion.”
Once, you thought. You didn’t listen once.
Tommy nervously chuckled, looking from Alastor then to you, “What?” Alastor grabbed him by the back of the neck, pushing him to the ground and onto his knees. Hand fisted in his hair, knife pressing across his throat.
Alastor dug his knee into the small of Tommy’s back, “Tommy, I think you owe the lady an apology.” You let your feet find the edge of the canvas and slid it out with a kick. It glided across the wood and stopped where his knees met the floor.
“I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry.” Tommy was staring at the waxed fabric in front of him.
You felt your eyes sting with tears, a smile breaking out against your will. “For what?”
“I—,” his eyes searched the room for an answer, your words bringing a pulse of Deja Vu, “It’s about yesterday?” He seemed to relax a little, “Come on. I said sorry. ” Looking back to Alastor. “I didn’t know she had a guy.”
Alastor yanked his head back to look him squarely in his eyes, “Wrong answer.” He pushed him down onto his stomach, “Come on Tommy. I like when my victims fight a little, too.” Sensing the taller man towering over him with the knife, Tommy scrambled onto his back to look at Alastor. Tommy started shouting, “Hey!! Someone!” But there was no one to hear him. That was the beauty of the space he always brought his dates to; it was too loud to hear anyone scream.
Funny how that works both ways.
Alastor shrugged, “Well that didn’t last long.” As Tommy backed up, trying to get traction on the slippery canvas and failing, Alastor straddled him. Tommy’s hands came up, one pushing against Alastor’s face, the other against the arm holding the knife. Alastor put both hands onto the knife’s handle, staring down into Tommy’s eyes as he inched closer to the man’s neck. “You look scared, Tommy. Are you scared?”
The other man shouted, eyes trembling as he watched the knife come down.
Alastor pushed through, metal sinking into Tommy’s throat. No pause, he withdrew and sank it again and again. Tommy’s hands fell from Alastor’s face, flailing slightly at his neck before slumping down. He was frenzied, stabbing at his chest and upward with wide eyes. You recognized those constricted pupils. They made sense in this setting. Alastor was panting, taking a second to split the skin from ear to ear in the middle of his melee.
You brought your knees to your chest, watching the crime unfold. Was this anger for you or truly for everyone? No one ever got so angry for you before, if you could be so conceited as to say this was for you. Your mouth opened and you spoke without thinking, no filter. “You look like an angry God. A jazz demon of wrath.” You smiled, the morbidity not lost on you.
Alastor stopped, frozen as he stared at you. For a second, he had forgotten you were there. He was always alone during these hobbies of his. Until recently. You looked like an angel in red and gold. Had he dyed your heavenly robes crimson? Or had you been made that way?
He dropped the knife, peeling his gloves off and stepping over Tommy’s decimated torso before kicking off his shoes.
You scooted back onto the bed and opened your arms, welcoming a strange after-kill cuddle. Your reward.
Alastor took off his bowtie, then his shirt. It took you a second, not realizing what was happening until he began to unbuckle his belt. “Now?!”
He nodded, “Yeah.”
“What the fuc— okay,” your hands flew to unclasp your stockings and roll down your panties. You mumbled to yourself, “Jesus Christ.”
As he crawled over you, warm gloveless hands tracing along your legs, hips, waist, you looked at up him with your now dilated pupils, “It’s murder? You need murder?”
He laughed, embarrassing you a little, “No it isn’t that.” His face nuzzled into your neck, “You’d go to hell? For me?”
You froze, you hadn’t really seen it like that.
“You’d damn your eternal soul,” his hips pressed into you, an unfamiliar hardness there that made you gulp, “just to spend time with me?”
How were you so heated over an erection? A dime a dozen, men practically threw them at women who offered them the slightest smile. Yet feeling him so hard against you, something you had been practically praying for, made you weak. A trembling virgin all over again.
Don’t lie, he always told you to be honest so you decided to try it out even if it made you feel at risk of harm. Your hands slid up and into his hair, gripping gently, enough to elicit a groan from him, “Well I was worried heaven wouldn’t have jazz, so… yeah.” You had to always say something a little in jest, to hide from the vulnerability of honesty, “This seemed like a better option.” The truth was, if you had to state it plainly, you would dive head first into hell in exchange for his smile. To hear his laugh. To feel his breath over your mouth. You were quite sure hell was more your scene, anyway.
“I’ll be sure to fill your afterlife with jazz every day, dear.”
How could he make hell sound so sweet?
“It’s a deal.” Fingers playing with his hair, basking in the warmth of skin on skin.
He leaned up, eyes scanning your face as he always seemed to do in these intimate moments. The feeling spreading down his chest was one wholly foreign to him, one he was struggling to put into his own words. You hadn’t run away. You opened your arms for him even still, welcoming your own damnation in exchange for… affection? Attention? Him? The reason didn’t matter, not to Alastor, and not now to his growing need. You didn’t even push him for more than he wanted to give, not yet needled him for details, secrets, sex. Could you really just be there for Alastor? Take him for what he was and what he wasn’t?
His mouth was salivating at the thought you’d give him anything. Reality was, you already had. His finger caressed the purple welt on your cheek. You were given pain and he returned it ten fold to its owner. A demon of wrath. He felt his cock twitching, underwear tented around him.
You smiled up at him, wiping a little streak of blood from his jawline, “You look quite pretty in red yourself.”
His head came to rest on your collarbone with a shaky sigh.
Had you said something wrong?
“Please, you’re already pushing me to my limit.”
Making a show of it, you zipped your mouth and pretended to toss the key. You wanted to reach down and pull off his remaining bit of clothing, to rub yourself against his manhood. But, you weren’t sure if that was something he would appreciate. You didn’t want to ruin his experience, to make him regret offering you something he so clearly didn’t need to give.
He removed his underwear, watching you unbutton your dress and pulling your arms free. Your bra, garter, and stockings were still on. Somehow he found it more scandalous than if you were completely naked.
Your breath was shaking, uneven as the excitement took control of you. There was a not totally unfounded fear you'd black out from hyperventilating.
Alastor lined himself up with your heat and pressed in, making a hard to decipher face as his brow knit up and he bit his lip. You were already so wet, not a hand or mouth needed from him. He wondered if you shared more than an acceptance of justified homicide; your body so relaxed and welcoming to him.
With a few shallow thrusts, he was fully sunk into you. You may have let out a cry. An emptiness you hadn’t clocked was suddenly gone. Was this what Zeus meant when he said the two souled humans were too powerful and tore them apart to weaken them?
Was this sex, or love? The word made you nervous. But—- if he offered it to you in both palms, you’d suffocate yourself in his hands.
He began to move in earnest, thrusting in and out slowly. You had expected the frantic moves of a horny virgin. Instead he was moving with control, hips rolling into you like waves gentle and steady where the lake met land, not slamming like many men before him.
Had it been any other dick, you’d whine and begin moving yourself against it for that needed speed. This was Alastor. Dripping pleasure into your open mouth like a drought-breaking summer shower.
You didn’t recognize your own sounds, already panting and moaning as a warmth spread from the place where his cock was sliding around inside you.
Alastor tried to keep calm. Even when his body was sensitive, he wasn’t used to the mental work needed to fight off his orgasm. Usually he had the opposite issue, struggling to stay focused enough to finish. Mind wandering to more productive chores.
But you were so wet, so accepting in body and mind. He watched your eyes close, one hand gently clawing at the blankets, the other reaching down to touch his lower stomach every time he thrust back in. For the first time in a very long time you really truly wanted to remember who was at the other end of the dick you were enjoying.
Languid moves. Swollen cockhead hitting the bottom of your walls, the top, the end, pushing still a little further.
“I’m sorry,” Alastor leaned down over you, kissing at your jawline, “For making you wait so long for so little.”
His rhythm picked up then, burying himself deeper into your sopping cunt and dragging out enough to pull back that quiver of his release.
You shook your head, lips tingling. “Nothing little here.”
He attempted a laugh, losing his breath. He wanted to last longer, to make the experience worth your while but he could feel you dripping down his balls and it weakened him with alarming efficiency. Finally the frenzied speed you witnessed earlier was turned to you, you brought your legs up, holding at his sides. “Darling I need to-,” he moaned into your ear.
“Please stay.” You clung to his neck, nails grazing at his shoulders.
Alastor’s voice was soft and sweet, a small moan and a gentle grunt. His legs spread more, trying to get every centimeter of himself into you. Hips now grinding in a small circle, but not losing any of the comfort of your warmth. You felt him still pumping that welcomed heat into you, and you tightened around him, drawing out your own moan. He hissed, “Sensitive.” Your legs were shaking like leaves in a storm, no orgasm but the pleasure nonetheless intoxicating.
The front of your brain felt like static, perhaps from the lack of oxygen as you had uncharacteristically lost your breath under Alastor.
Like losing your virginity, after the fear faded and you were able to find a moment for introspection, you found yourself larger than before. The edges of your canvas expanded out, new parts of yourself unfurling for you to explore. Nothing had been lost, only gained.
Alastor kissed at the dark circle under your eye, at the bruise of your cheek, he lifted your arm and kissed gently at the purple and blue spots there too. He had lied, and he wasn’t sure why, but maybe he’d find the will to admit it to you someday.
He had left yesterday to keep from strangling Tommy in the center of the theater, finding himself in a rage. He rarely felt anger. His killings always about retribution, about karma, about righting the scales. He needed to leave to keep from losing his composure.
He lied to you in the alley, unable to look you in the eye when he did it for fear you’d see it. You always seemed to see him with a clarity others didn’t despite such a short time together. He struggled to hide from you and it was as exciting as it was frightening. A testament to your similarities.
He hadn’t done it for everyone. No. His personal moral code fell to pieces when he saw your bloodied eye and bruised skin. He would have killed Tommy even if he had been a good man, even if you’d been the instigator. None of his murderous rules mattered. And it scared him.
(Next Part Next Week, orz)
*slang for boyfriend, often a rich one
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∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
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🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions
#alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader smut#hazbin hotel smut#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor#alastor smut#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x you#hazbin#the radio demon#human!alastor#human alastor
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Why Is It Wrong, If It Feels So Right?
Masterlist
Summary: Joel has doubts…
Pairing: NoOutbreak!DBF!Joel x Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns)
Genre: Smut with Angst and a fluffy ending
Warnings: Daddy kink, morally ambiguous Joel, age gap (20/56), unprotected piv (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)
Word Count: 875
A/N: Happy 49th Birthday Mr Pascal!! 🩷🩷🩷 I love this man to my entire end, honestly he’s my comfort in these times 😭 I hope he knows how much he means to me and lots of others.
He shouldn’t be doing this. God, he watched you grow up, it’s wrong, it’s so so wrong. You’ve just come back from college, and here you are, underneath him, moaning as he pounds into you like it’s the civil war and a doctor is on the way to mutilate him. He knows what people would say if they found out, you’re only so young, nothing past a child. His best friend’s baby girl, getting drilled into by a man who has never felt so good in his life then he did in that moment.
“Joel?” The whimper ends off with a question, Joel slows his thrusts ever so slightly.
“What is it baby?” His voice is soft, gentle, and a groan escapes his lips as you clench slightly.
“You seem upset,” You mumble, looking up at him. “Did i do something?”
“Oh Angel, no no,” He whispers. “You didn’t do nothing wrong.” You nod and moan slightly as Joel changes the position, pulling you around so now he’s against the headboard with you on his lap and he’s thrusting up from underneath. “Just in my own head, darlin’, tell you after.”
“Promise?”
“Promise sweet girl,” He whispers against your shoulder, his thrusts coinciding with your grinding, and he groans. “Fuck babygirl, gonna make me cum.”
“Me too, daddy,” You whimper. God that word, he’d heard you say it so many times in his life, when you were a kid, and then just recently when he would fuck you into tomorrow. You knew it got him there, that it was practically a cheat code in his system in making him cum. But today was different; from the overwhelming emotion, he would be crying if your pussy wasn’t so tight.
“Cum for me baby, cum for me,” He whispers. He feels your cunt clench around him and then spasm as you shake before falling against him, his hand rubbing against your back.
He can’t cum. Not right now.
As if like magic, his cock falls out and goes soft. This hasn’t happened before, ever. He’s somehow managed to turn himself off. Maybe it was easier because he’s older.
You make a confused squeak as he rolls you off him, and he pulls his sweatpants back on.
“Joel?” Your meek voice came from the bed, and your hands reached his firm bicep, he feels your cheek press against his back. “You didn’t cum.” He shakes his head.
“It’s fine, baby,” He whispers and kiss the side of your head.
“No, I wanna—“
“Darlin’, leave it, alright,” He says, his voice stern and angry. But it wasn’t at you, no, he couldn’t ever get angry at you, not when you were looking at him the way you were looking at him now. “I have to go…”
“You promised…” Your quiet voice almost whimpered as he stood up to leave, grabbing his Tshirt from the floor. “You promised you’d tell me what was wrong.” Joel squeezes his eyes shut, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Was it me?”
Joel turns on his foot, grabbing one of his shirts that he’s left here over the week, and he pulls it over your head.
“Baby, it’s never you,” He whispers and kisses your forehead. “It’s just me, thinking too much.” You look so small in his shirt, and he sighs.
“Then can you tell me?” You ask, sad, big eyes looking up at him, as if a puppy begging for a treat. “Joel, please.”
“Babygirl… you just… you’re too good for me… and I’m… I’m too old for you, I’m a bad man,” Joel whispers, his hand presses against your cheek.
“No, you’re not-“ You started before he shushed you.
“I’m too old for you sweetheart, there’s no doubt about that,” Joel kneels in front of you. “And your dad-“
“Joel…” You sigh. “We’ve had this conversation, so many times, and we’ve always come out with the same conclusion… Why is it wrong, if it feels so right? That’s what you said to me, the first time.”
“I know but-“
“But what? But… I don’t turn you on anymore? But you don’t find me attractive? You’re just here out of pity?” You ask.
“No, baby- god, no!” Joel shakes his head. “I just… I feel so bad… knowing your father is right next door. I love you but that adrenaline of being caught doesn’t excite me anymore, it scares me, to no end.”
There was a moment of silence as you looked at him.
“You love me?” You say.
“What?” Joel replies, his cheeks flushing red under his greying beard.
“You love me!” You smile as you stand up and then you laugh. “You said that you love me.”
“Alright, have your fun,” Joel sighs, crossing his arms as you dance around, chanting the same three words, that he loves you. Though, he can’t help the smirk that appears on his face. It goes for a few minutes, before you settle, panting and walking back to his feet.
“I… I love you too,” You smile, still breathing heavily; Joel smiles widely at you.
“You do?”
“I do… I love you so so much.” Joel wraps you in his arms.
“My girl… I love you too.”
#slvtforoldermen#happy birthday pedro my love 🩷🩷🩷#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller smut#pedro pascal smut#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal x reader
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It Hurts Me
pairing: Theodore Nott x female!reader
summary: In which you’re dating Adrian Pucey but your relationship is anything but healthy. Theo wishes you could see what’s right in front of you - songs: It Hurts Me by Elvis Presley and He Could Never Love You by Henry Morris and Playyar
Warnings: toxic and abusive relationships
- I’m sosososo sorry it has taken me so long to post. I’ve just been pretty lazy recently but I’m back(kinda)!! Also, implied Gryffindor reader but I don’t think I ever specified what house she’s in.
~~~
Theo was sitting at the Slytherin table for dinner. His friends chatting around him as he ate his mashed potatoes.
“It was completely unfair!” Complained Enzo, explaining how the red card call against him in the most recent quidditch match was uncalled for.
“Enzo, you grabbed Rais by the neck and threw him off his broom. It was completely fair.” Says Daphne, causing Enzo to roll his eyes and focus on his plate of food.
“Look,” says Pansy, elbowing Daphne lightly to get her attention. “They’ve been fighting again.” She says.
Theo follows their gaze, and sees you entering the Great Hall. Your eyes are bloodshot red and puffy. Mascara running slightly beneath your eyes. Theo clenches his fists at the sight of you. He can’t believe your still with that git Adrian Pucey.
“What do you think it was about this time?” Theo asks, still looking at you as you make your way over to the Gryffindor table.
“I heard them in the hallway earlier. Something about her school uniform.” Says Draco in between bites of food.
“What?! He’s angry about her goddamn school uniform?” Theo proclaims, astonished at how idiotic your stupid boyfriend is.
“Yeah, it’s too tight or something.” Draco explains.
Theo’s about to say something else, when Adrian walks into the dining hall.
His hair is messy, and his face is stoic yet his eyes are still furious. Every time Theo sees him he wonders how a girl as sweet and perfect as you could be in a relationship with a git like him.
“How long have they been together?” Mattheo asks, more quietly this time.
“About 6 months, I think.” Says Pansy.
Theo pushes his plate away, his appetite gone from thinking too much about you with someone else.
“I’m going to bed.” He says, getting up and leaving before anyone can ask any questions.
~~~
“Y/n, I seriously don’t understand why you’re still with him.” Hermione states, as you walk back to the common room.
“It’s complicated Hermione. He’s so good to me sometimes.” You explain.
“Well you should be with someone who’s good to you all the time.” She says, as you enter the common room.
“He’s just jealous sometimes. It’s not like he’s ever laid a hand on me or anything.” You state.
“Right, but it’s only a matter of time before it gets worse.”
“Hermione, please. I understand your looking out for me but please, just stay out of it.” You say, as you walk quickly up to your dorm, leaving Hermione, Harry, and Ron.
“Boyfriend problems again?” Ron asks.
“Like always.” Responds Hermione, plopping down on the couch.
~~~
“Hi Theo.” You say happily, as you see him in the hallway on your way out of the bathroom.
“Hi y/n, what class are you in right now?” He asks. Since classes were in session, the hallways were empty except for the two of you.
“History of Magic and I’m bored to insanity.” You say with a giggle, and Theo responds with a chuckle.
“Wanna skip?”
You give him a look, thinking of all the possibilities, but you quickly give in. How could you ever say no to Theodore Nott?
“Take me away.” You say. Theo gives a small surprised look, too quick for you to realize what it meant. In reality, he hadn’t truly expected you to say yes, considering that Adrian had forced you to block contact with just about every boy at Hogwarts. Your slight confusion slips away as Theo grabs your hand, and you giggle as he starts dragging you out of the building.
~~~
He takes you to the Black Lake, and he sets his things down by a tree as you try to catch your breath.
“Merlin, y/n, I need to take you on more runs if your panting after that.” He says jokingly.
You slap him lightly on the shoulder as you say, “No, you’re just absurdly tall! One of your steps is like 5 of mine.”
“Sorry, principessa, I guess I didn’t take that into consideration.” He says, laughing slightly at your demeanor.
“Ok, Mr. Cocky, wrap it up.” You say, smiling, as you go sit down by the tree.
Theo and you had been close friends since 2nd year, but you started to lose touch with him, (as well as practically all your guy friends) since you started dating Adrian. You missed moments like these and cherished them the little times you got them.
You began to get out your homework as Theo was walking towards the tree.
“Oh absolutely not.” He states, coming nearer.m
“What?” You ask, confused.
“You are not about to do homework right now. You might as well have stayed in class.” He states, grabbing your textbooks.
“Ok, ok, fine. Just put my books down and then I’ll do whatever you want to do.” You say, getting up for, your sitting position.
“Anything?” He says, a smirk on his lips as he sets your books down.
You playfully roll your eyes, “almost anything.” You clarify.
“Get in the lake with me.” He says.
“But it’s cold!” You protest.
He gives you a look, and as you stare into his eyes you can’t help but say yes to whatever he says.
“Well, let’s go then!” You say as you run towards the water, taking off your clothes.
Theo laughs as he runs behind you, both of your clothes sprawled out on the ground like a trail leading to the water, leaving you both in your underwear.
You get to the dock first, but before you get a moment to readjust yourself, Theo comes running behind you, grabbing you by the waist and taking you with him into the water.
You let out a yelp before plunging into the frigid water.
“Merlin it’s cold.” Theo says, as you two reach the surface again.
“What did you expect idiot. It’s the middle of February.”
“What did you just call me?” Theo says jokingly, grabbing you by the waist again to take you down under.
“No, please! Have mercy!” You says, jokingly before being engulfed in cold water. Your body and Theo’s wrapped tightly together.
You realize that this is the first time in months that you’ve felt truly free. Nothing but happiness in your head, not even a hint of fear. It’s something you haven’t experienced since you’ve been dating Adrian. In this small moment where you’re deep in these black waters, you realize that Theo is the only one who has shown you that since you’ve been with Adrian.
You feel yourself getting pulled up and your head breaks through the surface again.
“Race you to the dock!” Theo calls out, swimming quickly towards the shore.
“Wait! That’s so unfair!” You call out before swimming after him.
The sounds of your laughter mix together, and quickly you forget everything that’s ever pained you - especially Adrian.
Quickly you reach the dock, Theo already climbing onto it.
“Beat you bella.” Theo says, a large smile on his face.
“Yeah, only because you cheated.” You say, rolling your eyes playfully.
“Aw c’mon, just admit that you’re too slow for me.” He chuckling.
“Over my dead body. Now help me up, Nott.”
“Yes ma’am.” He says, reaching down to give you his hand and lifting you up quickly as if you weighed no more that 5 pounds.
“It’s freezing.” You say, walking towards your bags.
“Good thing I have a sweatshirt.” Theo says, handing it to you as reach the tree.
You conduct a quick drying spell on the both of you and you two began redressing, you slip Theo’s sweatshirt over your uniform.
You two sit down, chatting and laughing. You realize how long it’s been since you’ve really talked to Theo, and how much you’ve missed it.
“That’s why.” Theo ends his story, explaining why Mattheo and him put hair dye in Draco’s shampoo. You laugh heavily at the story.
Theo opens his mouth to add something else before he’s quickly cut off by another voice. You feel your body tense up as you recognize it.
“Well what the fuck do we have here?” Adrian calls out as he walks over to you.
You quickly look between Theo and Adrian, your voice leaving you for a second.
“Hi baby. We were just-“
“Drop it y/n. I don’t give a fuck what you were doing. What I want to know is why you’re hanging out with this brown haired bloke.”
After this comment, Theo quickly gets up, standing to his full 6’3 height.
“Theo stop.” You whisper, grabbing his arm and getting up.
“Don’t fucking touch him y/n. I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from him.” Adrian says, his temper rising.
“I-“ Theo begins, but you cut him off.
“You’re right A, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” You say, making yourself small and holding your head down.
“What? No-“ Theo starts again, before Adrian cuts him off.
“Let’s get out of here. Now!” He says, as he takes your hand and drags you away, leaving Theo speechless.
~~~
“I can’t take it anymore.” Theo says, back in the Slytherin common room. He had stood outside in shock for about 10 minutes before heading inside. He had always known Adrian was a shitty boyfriend, but he had never really seen you two interact. He had told the story to his friends and now they were all sitting around the fire pit discussing.
“I never realized it was that serious.” Said Enzo, looking severely concerned.
“I just don’t understand why she’s still with him. He doesn’t love her. He never has and he never fucking will. He’s a goddamn psycho.” Theo says, rage seeping out of him.
“It’s horrible.” Pansy says.
“It hurts me to see him treat her the way that he does. And the worst part is that I know he’ll never let her go, cause that’s just the kind of git that he is. I just wished she could see that he’s never going to change.” Theo says, full of anger and despair.
“And everyone knows. I mean the whole school is saying how dim witted she is to keep believing his lies.” Daphne says.
“I just wish she could pay attention to the ones who would treat her right.” Theo says, before getting up, saying a quick goodnight, and heading to bed. Although, he didn’t sleep all night, how could he? Knowing that you were still with Adrian and he could probably never have you.
~~~
“Can you hurry up? I want to get there before the good stuff runs out.” Calls out Mattheo, trying to gather the group to get to the Ravenclaw party on time.
“Merlin, we’re coming.” Says Pansy, annoyed at Mattheo’s whining.
Theo, Pansy, and Daphne make their way down to the rest of the group, and they start heading to the party soon after.
~~~
“You’re disgusting mate.” Theo says, as Mattheo downs a concoction given to him by Draco.
“I’m not weak, that’s what.” Mattheo says, causing Theo to chuckle at his stupidity.
Suddenly, he sees you walk into the Ravenclaw common room. You look beautiful in a black babydoll dress and your hair loosely curled. He stares at you in awe as you make your way around the party….. behind your stupid boyfriend.
“I’ll be right back.” Theo says to his friends, walking away before they can question him.
He maneuvers around the people quickly, reaching you in a matter of seconds. He taps you on the shoulder, causing you to turn around and stare up at him.
“Hey.” You squeak out, your eyes switching from looking at his to darting around the room quickly.
Theo’s about to say something before he notices something strange about your face. Your lip has a cut on the upper lip, and hidden away by quickly applied concealer your right eye appears to be an arrange of blues, greens, purples, and yellows.
Theo stares in shock, hoping he’s just being dramatic.
“What’re you-“ Adrian starts, noticing that you weren’t behind him anymore before he quickly sees the pair of you.
“Goddamn it, do you have no one else to bother, Nott?” Adrian says, going to reach for your arm.
Theo quickly decides he’s not going to let him take you away this time.
“You do that to her face?” Theo asks, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.
Adrian laughs, as he looks to you. “Got to show her her place, y’know?” Adrian says chuckling.
Suddenly, you see Theo’s eyes darken, darken to a point you’ve never seen them get to before. The cup in his hand is crushed by his clenching fists, and his tongue is poking the inside of his cheek as he lets out a low chuckle. Quickly, before you can register what’s happening, Theo sends a punch directly into Adrian’s nose.
“What the fuck?” Adrian says, cupping his nose quickly before blood seeps all over the floor.
Before even Adrian can register what happened, Theo lands another punch, and another, and another.
Soon, Theo’s on top of Adrian, punching him ruthlessly.
Adrian is attempting to fight back but Theo’s too quick and Adrian is slowly losing consciousness. A ring has formed around the pair of them, some people attempting to break them before, 1) realizing it’s no use because Theo has absolutely no intention of stopping any time soon, or 2) the Slytherin boys stop them from grabbing Theo, because they’re enjoying the show. And on top of that, too many people are too scared of Theo to even try to intervene.
You stand back, shock stopping you from doing anything.
“Ok that’s enough.” Draco says, seeing Adrian on the ground in and out of consciousness, bruised and bloody.
“Help me you gits.” Draco calls out to the rest of the Slytherin boys.
They get Theo off of Adrian after a few seconds, and Adrian’s friends quickly pull him off of the ground and take him away.
“You touch her again and I’ll rip your fucking liver out next time, Pucey.” Theo calls out, shaking off his friends who are holding him back.
You continue to stand in your original position, mouth slightly agape as you look at Theo. No one’s ever really protected you like that.
“Theo.” You say as you walk up to him slowly.
Theo just stares at you, a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there seconds ago causes your knees to become shaky.
“I- thank you.” You say, before hugging him.
Theo quickly wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. You begin to lightly cry into his chest, repeating your thanks over and over.
“Hey, hey, you don’t have to thank me.” Theo says, pulling you away so he can see your face, his large hands wiping away your tears.
“I just, I was so scared, all the time.” You explain.
Theo’s heart melts, and he carefully decides his next few words.
“You won’t ever have to be scared with me. If you’ll let me.” He says tenderly.
You smile, not believing that the Theodore Nott is asking you to be his.
“How could I not let you love me?” You say, before kissing him sweetly.
#slytherin boys#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#jealousyfic#theodore nott#harry potter#theodore nott x y/n#angst#adrian pucey#toxic relationship#toxicity
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Wanda x Nat x Reader - Where y/n recently got cheated on and gets drunk at their favorite bar.
A/N: A VERY shitty drabble I did while also drunk! y/n who
“Are you shooting whiskey?”
“Are you watching me?” The remark comes off harsher than you’d have liked. Under normal circumstances you’re significantly less bitter, insolent, and a little less drunk.
“Sorry to offend, it’s hardcore…honestly” the redhead takes a seat next to you. As she sits down you realize just how drunk you are because at first glance, you missed how entirely captivating she is. Her eyes seem to physically pierce through you, the leather jacket she bears, perfectly hugs her waist, and… fuck… you’ve been staring haven’t you.
“I’m Nat, glad you think I’m attractive,” her hand extends to shake yours.
Caution is what brought you here and heartbreak is why you’re way too many shots in.
So you allow her hand to still in the air and as much as it pains you, “you’re not attractive. I’m just drunk.” It’s the meanest thing you’ve said to someone. You know you’re just taking your anger out on this exceedingly enchanting person, but you’ve never released this type of energy before.
“You may not be entirely sober, but I can tell when someone is lying and that first part-” she leans in to whisper in your ear, “was a lie.”
The warm breath on your ear sends shivers down your spine but you keep composure and take your shot once she moves back to her normal position, “since you rudely interrupted that.” You’ve previously been chasing with a sprite, but this time you bear a calm face, attempting to show your dominance. “What do you want from me, nat?” still confused (but not entirely upset) by her presence.
“You’re a feisty one, Wanda will love that-”
“Who?”
“Jesus, Nat! I thought I told you not to just approach anyone without me!?” a flustered woman takes the seat to your left and it makes you question why you picked a spot so available, “but gosh are you cute!” her discomposure fades as she stares at you endearingly.
“And who are you?” you try your best to act upset, but this girl is just as ethereal as her friend.
“I’m Wanda, but no need for bios and summaries honey, would you like to go home with us tonight?”
The shock hits first, but soon arousal follows. Unfortunately this time it’s impossible to hide the chills shooting down your spine and your body fails you with a shudder.
No one, not even your ex was this forward with you. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or your recent breakup that’s causing your body to act so involuntary, but it feels as if you’re fighting against yourself. Angry and growing frustrated with your actions exposing your subconscious, you turn your spite toward the newer woman, “you think I just came here to get picked up by random girls? I’ll have you ladies know this is one of my favorite bars in the area, I’m here because-”
Nat cuts you off, “I think you’re here because you’re upset about something, you’ve been wronged, you’re not mean, you’re certainly not convincing as an asshole, and you’re definitely not domina-”
“What Nat is trying to say is… we want to help you.” Wanda drapes her arm around your shoulder, tugging you in close so you can hear her murmur, “you seem quite tense… why not let us relieve you, sweetheart?”
#truthfully don’t know how I feel about this#so it may be gone#or it’ll get edited and become a whole thing#it’s a love hate thing#wanda maximoff#wanda fanfic#wandanat#wanda x natasha#wanda x nat x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x you#natasha x reader#Natasha romanoff x reader
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déjà vu (beyoncé’s version) – ln4
masterlist
Summary: The one where a bad prank leads to you and Lando exploring an option you thought was not an option.
Pairing: lando norris x bestfriend!reader (nicknamed Tink)
Word Count: 5.2k
Warnings: smut elements but no actual smut, cursing, pining and of course fluff!
Request: “Haiiii. I love your style of writing Lando and feel like you would 100% do a request justice to scratch the itch in my brain Reader and him have been childhood friends, mutual pining with some sexual tension but never crossed lines other than a new years kiss with friends etc. So reader ends up training and qualifying as a physio/masseuse and travelling with Lando bc fun besties on tour together yay! Thinking she ends up getting to know his body really well from that and has to massage some intimate area- tension builds blah. They have a cosy night in together after front row quali to prep for the race, face masks cuddles bc really physically comfortable together and then some confessions happen. After this going out to celebrate home race (not jinxing tomorrow!!) and reader ends up dancing with another driver, Lando gets jealous fully opens up and they go home together (as much detail on that as you feel comfortable with) No probs if it’s something you don’t feel inspired to write! Pls continue writing whatever you love because I love to read your stuff!!”
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! am i back after a literal month of no fics?? i hope so!! thank you so much for being patient with me you guysi i appreciate it, and i just want to say that this was the first time i wrote for lando (and you can definitely thank @userlando and her lando brainrot posts for that) and i’m kind of obsessed!! so as always, thank you to the anon for the request, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.
Being friends with Lando has resulted in both of you getting in trouble way too many times, you realise. The most recent case? The both of you ended up in a supply closet nearby the Aston Martin hospitality, hiding from a very, very, angry Spaniard. The close proximity and the limited space wouldn’t have been a big issue, for if Lando wasn’t looking at you with that look in his eyes. Under normal other circumstances, your reaction would’ve been much more different to the one you give him now – which is a glare that shows him you are not happy with the situation the both of you are in.
You’re about to scold him, but the words on your tongue quickly die as he presses his index finger to your lips. “I know you’re about to yell at me,” he whispers as he tries to keep his voice as low as possible, “but I really don’t want to be found right now.”
“Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before, you bloody idiot.” You hiss while slapping his hand away, which wins you a mock pout in return. “Why would you play that song every time he walked into a room?”
“It’s his name,” Lando tries to reason, “I thought he’d be used to it by now!”
Here’s the sitch. Lando, being the absolute prankster he is, decided to play ‘Fernando’ every time his former teammate entered into a room that morning – which resulted in the Spaniard becoming more and more annoyed with him until he snapped and Lando had to find himself a hiding place. How did you get roped into this, you may ask? You have absolutely no idea, other than your best friend dragging you into a nearby storage closet as you were walking back to the McLaren hospitality after meeting up with some of your friends for a cup of coffee. And now? The two of you are stuck inside a closet which is obviously too small for you both, and Lando has to bend his neck in an uncomfortable position.
“Lando,” you whisper in an attempt to keep your voice down, “don’t bend your head like that, you’ll strain something.”
“Well it’s not exactly comfortable, Tink.” He grimaces as one of the shelves hit his neck, which causes him to let out a low groan.
Ignoring the nickname he’s used for years, you motion him to move lower. “Just– let me see, okay?”
He begrudgingly nods as he bends his body towards you to accommodate you. You let your fingers run across his skin to find any knots along his shoulders. He lets out another low groan, but this one is more appreciative as you work some of the knots your fingers end up finding.
You watch as Lando’s expression changes from painful discomfort to relief as your fingers work their magic on his tense muscles. For a brief moment, it's just the two of you in the confined space, and you almost get lost in the comfortable silence. “Feels good,” Lando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “I swear you have magic hands or something.”
You let out a breathy chuckle, “I just know your body, Lando.” After realising the words that come out of your mouth, your face flushes with embarrassment at the unintended implication of your words and you scramble to add, “Not like that, I didn’t mean–”
He smirks playfully, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, really? My body, huh? You think about my body often?” he teases, his hands squeezing your waist – and being lost in the moment, you don’t even know how they ended up there.
Your cheeks grow even hotter, and you feel your heart rate quicken. “No, that's not what I meant,” you stammer, trying to regain your composure, “and you know it’s basically my job to think about, you know?”
The mischievous glint in his eyes shine brightly as he decides to play dumb, “To think about what, baby?”
Your heart skips a beat at his teasing, and you can't help but let out a small laugh, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Don't be ridiculous, Lando,” you retort, trying to act cool despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I meant knowing your body like an expert, considering the fact that you pull a muscle every time you decide to do a physical activity.”
He chuckles, and his hands, still resting on your waist, give you a playful squeeze. "Sure, sure, Tink," he replies, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "But let's be honest, it's not just my body you know well. You practically read my mind too."
You roll your eyes, trying to playfully push him away. "Oh, please. You're not that hard to figure out."
Lando leans in a little closer, his grin still evident. "Is that so? Then tell me, oh expert of Lando Norris, what am I thinking right now?"
You raise an eyebrow, not falling for his trick. "You're probably thinking that you got away with the Fernando prank and now you owe me big time, your brain is empty most of the time."
He smirks, impressed by your response. "You're good, Tink. But you're right, I do owe you one. What can I do to make it up to you?"
You pause, the closeness between the two of you making it difficult to think clearly. "Well, for starters, maybe you can stop dragging me into your pranks and getting us into trouble," you suggest with a hint of a smile. “And I don’t know, maybe take pole for me, you know?”
As the playful banter continues, you both seem to forget about the predicament you're in. The confined space of the closet no longer feels suffocating; instead, it becomes a haven for shared laughter and camaraderie.
Just as the two of you are lost in the moment, the closet door suddenly opens, and you both freeze. The angry Spaniard stands before you once again, but this time, his expression has softened, seeing you and Lando in a surprisingly intimate moment.
"Am I interrupting something?" Fernando asks, his tone amused.
Your face turns beet red, and Lando lets out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, hey there. Just having a chat, you know."
But Fernando raises an eyebrow, still looking amused. "In a supply closet?"
You and Lando exchange a sheepish glance, realizing how the situation must appear to Fernando. "Well, we kind of got caught up in the moment," you admit, hoping he doesn't read too much into it.
Fernando chuckles, and there's a warm glint in his eyes. "I see. Well, it's none of my business, but you might want to find a less cramped place to chat next time."
You nod in agreement, grateful that Fernando seems to be taking the situation lightly. "You're right. We'll keep that in mind," you say, trying to sound casual.
Lando adds with a grin, "Yeah, and we promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on." But he’s quick to correct himself when you give him a glare, “I promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on."
Fernando chuckles again, seemingly amused by the whole ordeal. "I'd appreciate that. Anyway, carry on. I won't keep you two any longer."
As he walks away, you let out a sigh of relief. "That could have been a lot worse," you say, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.
"Yeah, we got lucky," Lando agrees, giving you a playful nudge. "But you know what they say, Tink, nothing like a bit of closet bonding to strengthen a friendship."
You roll your eyes at his playful banter, but there's a fondness in your heart as you look at him. "You're incorrigible, Lando Norris."
He grins, "You love it, though."
You can't help but smile, knowing he's right. “Come on,” you say, “you have a quali to attend.”
The tension from the qualifying session had left you on edge, your heart pounding with every lap, and your nerves had gotten the better of you, leading to some slightly bloody nails from biting them in anticipation. But all that anxiety melts away when you see Lando step out of the car, grinning ear to ear. As soon as he catches sight of you, he opens his arms, and you don't hesitate for a moment. You rush into his embrace, holding him tightly, relieved that he's safe and thrilled that he performed so well.
"You were amazing out there!" you exclaim, unable to hide the pride in your voice. "P2, front row! That's incredible!"
Lando chuckles, his arms still wrapped around you. "I don’t know how we did it!"
You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, your heart swelling with admiration for your best friend. "I never doubted you for a second," you say earnestly.
His grin widens, and he playfully ruffles your hair. "I know you didn't. Seems like you’re my lucky charm, hm?"
“You know what that means?” You ask him return, a playful smirk on your lips.
His answer comes quickly, and his look seems to reflect your own, “Pizza and a movie?”
Your reply is just as enthusiastic as you throw your arms around him and give him a big smile, “Pizza and a movie, baby!”
Eventually, you manage to escape the whole hustle and bustle of the circuit, and you and Lando find yourselves back at the hotel, with you on the couch trying to find something to watch and him deciding to take a quick shower after the stressful day of qualifying. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. You smile to yourself, glad that Lando is taking some time to relax after such a demanding day. As you wait for him to finish, you finally settle on a movie to watch with a small grin on your face, clearly pleased with your choice. Just as you're about to start the movie, you hear the bathroom door open, and Lando emerges, looking refreshed and relaxed.
After he gets the pizza box out of the oven, he walks over to the couch, wearing sweatpants instead of his jeans, and flops down next to you. "That shower was exactly what I needed," he says with a contented sigh.
You chuckle, glancing at him, while also trying to actively ignore the fact that he’s wearing grey sweatpants. "Feeling better now?"
"Definitely," he replies, flashing you a grin. "So, what are we watching?"
“Mamma Mia,” you scoff, “of course.”
“A classic, nice.” He nods in understanding, extending the pizza box to you for you to take a slice. “It’s still warm.”
You wordlessly grab a slice and pass the box back to Lando as you settle in your seat, ready to focus on your choice of movie. The comfortable silence between you feels familiar, like the unspoken language of best friends who have shared countless memories and moments together. Throughout the movie, you can't help but notice Lando's occasional stolen glances at you, and you find yourself stealing glances right back. He even winks at you with that boyish grin every time he catches you staring at him, making you giggle as you quickly turn your attention back onto the screen. You somehow find yourself sprawled out on the couch once the pizza box is emptied and discarded, and it’s harder for you to keep your eyes open. With your head on Lando’s lap, he plays with the ends of your hair as the two of you try to keep your attention on the screen.
‘Try,’ being the operative word here, since Lando realises that you end up falling asleep in the middle of the movie where Sophie realises all of the men she invited to the wedding thinks they are her father, and though he finds some kind of comfort in the chaos knowing that it will get resolved eventually, he can’t help but take his role as a makeshift human pillow very seriously. As the movie continues playing, Lando tries his best not to disturb your peaceful slumber. He leans back against the couch, adjusting his position so you can rest more comfortably on his lap while also trying so hard to not wake you up. He can't help but smile to himself as he plays with your hair, finding himself mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.
With a sudden realisation that maybe it is not the best thing to stare at you while you sleep, he tries to occupy himself with something on his phone while also trying to keep still so that you don’t wake up. However, the text thread between him and Max quickly makes him realise that the thoughts that he tries so hard to keep away. He never gave himself the opportunity to think about the two of you that way, he supposes. Not that it would be weird or anything, but in his mind, he’d seen, and been in, far too many relationships form and de-form to know that not all is permanent when it comes to relationships and it’s also not something he’d want to risk when it comes to you. Although the unwarranted thoughts of the two of you together, as a couple, have been haunting him for the past couple of months, he did a great job of sending them away and finding something else to focus on – up until now, that is. And now that he’s pictured the two of you together, holding hands in the streets of Monaco, going on dates, doing more than what ‘best friends’ are meant to do, it doesn’t seem that daunting to give it a try.
He carefully shifts you onto his lap with gentle movements, surprised that you don’t wake up and also trying to figure out the best way to wake you up without startling you. As he gently brushes your cheek, your eyes flutter open, and you look up at him with a sleepy smile. "Did I miss the end of the movie?" you ask, your voice still heavy with sleep.
Lando chuckles, shaking his head, but not stilling the movement of his hand. “No, we just finished. You fell asleep somewhere in the middle.”
You sit up slightly, rubbing your eyes with a small yawn. “I'm sorry,” you say, sounding apologetic.
“No need to apologise,” he assures you, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You looked adorable sleeping, Tink.”
Your cheeks flush slightly, and you give him a playful nudge. “Stop teasing me.”
Lando grins, but there's a tenderness in his eyes as he looks at you. “I'm not teasing, Tink. I mean it. You always look adorable, no matter what you're doing.”
You feel your heart skip a beat at his sincere compliment, and you can't help but smile back. “Thank you,” you say softly, feeling a warmth spreading through you, “I, uh, I should probably go to my room and let you sleep.”
“What? No, you don’t have to go.” Lando’s eyebrows furrow on their own, “I mean, you could stay over, it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
You give him an unsure look, “I don’t know, Lando, you have a race tomorrow.”
“And we’ll sleep,” he shrugs, “the name ‘sleepover’ implies that, baby.”
You end up giving in and nodding, albeit a little hesitant. "Alright, I'll stay over."
Lando's face lights up with a bright smile, clearly pleased with your decision. "Great! It'll be fun, just like old times."
You chuckle softly. "Yeah, just like old times."
And you’d expect it to feel like the old times, because the two of you said it would be like the old times – the times where you’d spend the night over at his house because his mother picked you up and you didn’t want the playtime to be over. But instead of the excitement of a prolonged play date with your best friend, you find yourself anxious in the hotel bathroom over the fact that it’s him out there, and there is no way that he is not aware of the way you feel about him. You take a moment to compose yourself, splashing some cold water on your face to calm your nerves. This situation is new territory for both of you, and you don't want anything to ruin the friendship the two of you have. When you eventually make your way out of the bathroom, you desperately want to go back in, feeling undoubtedly exposed under Lando’s burning gaze.
“What?” You ask, your voice coming off weaker than you hoped, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
It takes a minute for him to answer you, mainly because of the fact that poor Lando is having a brain malfunction at the sight of you in his shirt – which he gave it to you because it was the only logical option for sleepwear, you know? Suddenly regretting his possessive streak, he attempts to clear his throat, “Nothing, you look good in my clothes.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, and you try not to let yourself become reduced to a blubbering mess, “Oh, well thank you. It’s yours,” after a brief moment of realisation you quickly add, “but you already knew that.”
“Tink,” he calls out, snapping you out of whatever embarrassed state you’re in, and your eyes quickly snap to his. “Come here,” he pleads as he extends one of his towards you, he’s quick to draw you into his arms – and just like that, you find yourself straddling your best friend.
“This is crazy,” you whisper as Lando grabs you by the waist to still your movements as you try to find a comfortable position while not realising just how uncomfortable it becomes for him.
“It doesn’t have to be,” his whisper is just as soft as yours as he looks up to you, “we don’t have to make it weird.”
A compromise, you’ll take it. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“Do you want me to kiss you?” As much as you hate it when he replies to your questions with his own, you nod your head with a sheepish look on your face, though it doesn’t satisfy Lando as a valid answer. “I need you to say it, baby.”
You answer comes of in an instant. “I do, please.”
“Such good manners,” he mumbles while giving you that boyish grin you love oh so much. When he catches biting the corner of your lip, you’re broken out of your daydream by his thumb pulling your lip free. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” his thumb caresses the side of your lip, “that’s my job, anyway.”
Your cheeks flush at his playful comment, and you can't help but smile at his words. "Your job, huh?" you tease, feeling the tension in the air starting to dissipate.
Lando chuckles, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your waist. "Among other things," he replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Before you give yourself the opportunity to overthink, you lean in and press a soft kiss to Lando’s lips – it’s only a peck, a hesitant one at that, but not completely uncharted territory when you think about it. The two of you have shared kisses before, at Christmas or New Year’s at midnight, but somehow this simple peck feels different than any of those other occasions. Lando doesn’t rush you. He’s a patient man after all, and he knows that the feelings he has for you are reciprocated by the feelings you have for him. So when you look him with widened eyes, he gives you a soft smile and it does wonders to calm your nerves. It doesn’t take you long to press your lips against his once again, but this time the kiss is deeper, more passionate, and filled with the unspoken words that have lingered between you for too long.
It starts off with another peck, but this time you take the initiative to deepen the kiss, and the appreciative groan that leaves Lando’s lips makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. His hands move from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, while yours tangle in his hair, revelling in the softness of his curls – and the fact that all of this feels almost familiar in some kind of a way. He’s not shy as he lets his tongue explore your mouth, in fact, he encourages you to do the same. It’s a messy kiss filled with colliding tongues and mixed breaths, and the hands that were on your waist one moment are now on your hips, encouraging their slow movement against his groin. It’s not a subtle build-up for any of you, either. It a matter of seconds, you find yourself dry-humping your childhood best friend in his hotel room, and in a couple more, both of you are whimpering into the kiss.
You’re both out of breath and breathing deeply as you rest your forehead against Lando’s. Thankfully, his hands continue to guide your hips as their movement get more and more erratic, and you him groan out, “Slow down, baby.”
You let out an objective whimper in return, whispering out a weak, “No.”
“No?” Lando repeats, his breath hitting your exposed neck in a light chuckle, “Do you want to come?”
“Uh-huh,” you mumble, letting your hands grab handfuls of his hair, “but you can’t fuck me.”
The whine that comes from your lips can only be described as bratty when Lando forces your hips to cease their movements, raising an eyebrow at you as he grumbles, “Excuse me?”
“You can’t fuck me, Lando.” You mumble, trying to move your hips again, but his hold is too powerful against your attempts. “At least not tonight.”
“And why is that, Tink?” He takes in your wide eyes and shuddering breath in, thinking he’d done something wrong, something you didn’t like. “You want to come, no?” He thinks at that moment, as you give him a nod with that dreamy and almost innocent look on your face, he could die and he’d be happy with where his life has led him, but he gives you a confused look, “Then what is the problem?”
“Um, you have a race tomorrow,” you explain as your fingers gently slide down to meet at the nape of his neck, “I don’t want to jinx anything.”
As a respond to your words, Lando gives you a look of disbelief, “You don’t want to jinx me having a good race,” he mumbles.
You give him another nod, “Are you mad at me?”
“Am I mad at you?” Lando repeats the question, and he flips the two of you over in a smooth motion so that you're lying on the bed with him hovering above you, his eyes locked onto yours. “Answer the question for me, will you?”
You take a moment to catch your breath, your heart racing as you meet his intense gaze. “No,” you reply softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “Why would you be mad at me?”
Lando's lips curve into a playful smile as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours, “Good girl.” As he moves down your body, you let out a protesting sound, but he quickly shushes you as he positions himself between your legs. “I’m going to make you come, and you’re not talking to Micheal Italiano ever again.” He taps the side of your hips to signal you to raise them up as he carefully takes off your underwear and then murmurs to himself, “Pretty girl, too.”
With a blush which is quickly spreading onto your cheeks and neck, you raise yourself onto your elbows as you watch him give you the do-over. “Lando,” you plead.
“Oh baby, you're wet,” he teases, “don’t worry, though, I’ll help you with that.” He also gives you a look while grabbing both of your thighs, “And the shirt fucking stays on.”
After the events of the previous night with Lando working wonders between your legs for the remainder of the night, he honestly didn’t expect to start the morning with you returning the favour. Alas there you were, between his legs, with sleepy eyes and an innocent smile as if you hadn’t just given him the best blowjob of his life. And as the two of you make your way along the paddock, he wishes he was back in his hotel room with you in his arms. You try your best to distract him from overthinking everything and costing himself the race, and Lando is aware of what you’re trying to do – though that doesn’t mean you succeed completely.
You can tell by the small frown of eyebrows that he is lost inside his head, probably double guessing every aspect of the strategy his team debriefed him about this morning. With a deep inhale, you give his hand a small squeeze, halting your movements to stop him alongside you. “Hey,” you call out gently, “you’re going to be amazing out there, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”
“I know, it’s just the pressure is getting to me.” You watch him sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to regroup his thoughts, “I’ll be fine before I go in the car, I promise.”
You nod, giving him an encouraging smile, “I know you will. After all, you feel the–”
“Need for speed.” He completes the sentence without thinking, which makes the two of share a short laughter. “Thanks, Tink.”
“You’re welcome,” lifting yourself up on your tiptoes, you give him a soft peck on his lips, “I’ll watch the race with your dad, okay?” You chuckle at his reaction when he lets out a prolonged groan, “What?”
“He’s going to make fun of us, big time.” He says, rolling his eyes.
“Go,” you say in between laughter, “don’t be late and for the love of God, be careful!”
Lando chuckles at your playful warning, giving you a mock salute. “Yes, ma'am!”
It doesn’t take long for you to find Adam, who gives you a knowing look, in the sea of spectators in the McLaren garage. And as the race begins, you and Adam stand side by side, your eyes fixed on the track where the race is unfolding. The first four laps as the Lando leads the race makes your heart beat so hard, you can practically feel the excitement coursing through your veins. Each turn and straightaway that Lando navigates flawlessly adds to the anticipation building in the air. Even when he returns to his original position, you’re on the edge, praying to whatever deity up there for him to finish this race without and incident. You’ve told him million times before that you don’t get F1 at all, you’ve always thought the adrenaline linked with the sport to be a negative feeling – too heavy, too much and definitely not something you want to feel every weekend. But in the moment that Lando passes the finishing line P2, you realise why people are so obsessed with this sport. Because when Lando crosses the finish line, you find yourself cheering as loudly as anyone else. The rush of emotions, once alien to you, now feels like a shared celebration of human achievement and dedication.
Lando is all smiles when he finally finds his way back to you, and he’s giving you a kiss the moment he has you back in his arms; celebrating with the team in the paddock was a whirlwind of emotions. As he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, his big smile is infectious.
So you’re honestly confused when he starts dragging you through the hallways of the club you went to for his celebrations with the rest of the team. The beat of the music playing back in the dancefloor echoes in the hallway as he leads you down the hall. The lights, the laughter, and the energy of the celebrations in the main area of the club are still audible, but you can only hear the muffled sounds of the celebration being held for him. “Lando,” in hopes of finally getting some answers, you say his name for the umpteenth time, but he just looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, “what’s wrong?”
He's silent as he wraps his arms around your waist and before you can repeat your question he buries his head in the crook of your neck. While you’re thinking about what could’ve caused his sudden need to be alone with you, he’s very glad that you’ve opted to wear sneakers tonight instead of heels.
“Baby,” you murmur, your fingers running through his curls in an attempt to bribe him, “tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong.” His voice is muffled by your skin and you can feel the breath he exhales on your shoulder.
You purse your lips and give him a few moments for him to break on his own, but when he doesn’t, you sigh softly. “Something is wrong.”
He raises his head momentarily to give you an unamused look, then bury his head back into your neck, “I saw you and Oscar.”
“Yeah, we were talking about the race.” Your confirmation leaves you confused as he lets out a scoff, and you find yourself warily asking, “Is there something wrong with that?”
You hear him scoff again and then, “Well I didn’t particularly like it.”
You gently push him off of you as you try to look past his confused expression and pouted lips, “You didn’t like me talking to your teammate… about your race.”
“Well when you put it like that–”
“Lando he is two years younger than us, and he has a girlfriend you do realise that, don’t you?” Your hands rest on either side of your body on your hips as you give him a small grin, “You were jealous, weren’t you?”
His eyes widen as he nods, “Well yeah, Tink, I think that one was very much obvious when I dragged you here.”
“I mean,” you drawl, “it was kind of cute, you know?”
As his eyes narrow, Lando walks you backwards until you’re pressed up against the wall. “Well I am a cute person.”
“Oh yeah,” you let out a giggle, “the cutest.” Your fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt while you look up at him to meet his eyes, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That we should probably get back to the party?” He mumbles, his eyes drifting as he looks around the hall.
You fist the collar of his shirt as you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, your voice lowering down for only him to hear even if it’s a deserted hallway, “You don’t have a race tomorrow.”
His eyes come back down to meet yours, “Well yes, it’s Mond– oh,” it takes a moment for him to realise what you’ve meant, and you’re thrown over his shoulder in an instant.
“Wha– Lando put me down!” You shriek, “What are you doing?”
His voice is playful as he starts walking towards the back door of the club, “We are not leaving that hotel room for a few days.”
It doesn’t take long for you to start laughing, “You’re an idiot.”
“Maybe,” he shrugs the opposite shoulder, “but I’m your idiot.”
The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, but you can’t help the small smile forming on your lips as you murmur, “Yeah, yeah you are.”
#monzabee#requests open#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 smut#formula 1#fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#imagine#fluff#angst#smut#lando norris smut#lando norris fluff
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the clash | v. ever fallen in love
hobie brown x goth!reader
word count: 3.1k
genre: enemies to lovers
warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, mentions of death, demonic names, mentions of injuries, giving and receiving stitches, geniuses being dumbasses
a/n: these keep getting longer LMAO which is wild too bc i literally had an idea to make this chapter even longer, but i had to end up splitting it up. thank you to everyone who’s reading the series, i appreciate you all more than you will ever know. please enjoy this chapter, the next should be out either late tonight or tomorrow :)
previous chapter: iv. london calling
now reading: v. ever fallen in love
next chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)
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It’s been a few months since you’ve become a part of Spider Society, and much to everyone’s disappointment, you and Hobie still hate each other. Even though on any given day the two of you will be seen around each other, you’re always arguing. Yelling. There have been multiple times where the two of you almost fought, but someone always breaks it up before it gets to that point. “Ready to go, Hobie?” Gwen asks, and he scoffs. “Can’t believe ‘m bein’ forced to go to that dickhead’s world by you of all people,” he grumbles, and she rolls her eyes. “C’mon man, we all know that you’ve both been way more irritable towards everyone because you haven’t seen each other in what? Like two days?”
“I’ll be a lot worse when I see them, I can promise ya that, mate,” he snaps and Miles shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, Hobie,” he says as Gwen pulls up the portal to your world. “Are you excited to see them? I haven’t seen you two apart for this long ever, you’re always together,” Pavitr says, side-eying Hobie. He keeps trying to tell Gwen and Miles the two of you only hate each other because you have strong feelings for one another and don’t know how to face them.
“I’m telling you, they’re obsessed with each other,” Pavitr says as he, Gwen, and Miles sit in his home, sipping some chai. “Obsessed with wanting to kill each other maybe, but that’s about it,” Miles says, and Pavitr groans. “No! You’ve got it all wrong! Neither of them knows how to express their feelings and that’s the only reason they act the way they do!” he tries to convince them, but Gwen and Miles just glance at each other. “I don’t know, Pav,” Gwen says. “I picked up on the romantic tension between the two of you immediately, why are you doubting my genius social cue reading now?”
“You need to stop being such a romantic, Pav. The two of them would rather eat glass than be romantically involved in any way,” Gwen responded, but Pavitr was not convinced.
He still isn’t. Hobie laughs. “Excited? You must be mental to think I’d be chuffed to see them,” he responds, and Pavitr sighs. One day. One day he will get Hobie to admit he cares for you.
Gwen was honestly a little nervous for this little meet-up. The two of you had a really bad fight recently, and trying to get the two of you back to talking level seems a little ambitious.
“You what?” he yelled, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m being mentored by Miguel.” Hobie stares at you, not saying anything, with his mouth slightly open before he shakes his head. He’s very angry, but you simply don’t care. “He’s helping me, Hobie. We both have the venomous bite thing, so he’s trying to help me out with it and helping me adjust to–”
“Don’t you dare say adjust to fuckin’ Spider Society like I ain’t been here the whole time.”
“You never necessarily helped, Hobie. Unless you count constantly insulting me and–”
“Nah, don’t gimme that fuckin’ rubbish, (Y/n),” he growls, and you cross your arms. “Why are you so mad about it anyway?” He laughs. “Why am I mad? Seriously?! You’re the right fuckin’ hand of the pitch and toss!”
“The what?” you ask and he groans. “The fuckin’ boss, (Y/n)! The man!”
“So what, Hobart?! In case you forgot you’re a part of this society, you listen to Miguel too!”
“I fuckin’ don’t!”
“You fucking do!” By this point, you’d pulled attention from several other spiders, not only because of the yelling but because their senses were going off. The two of you were too focused on each other to realize they were all ready to pounce on the two of you. “Fuckin’ piss off before I do somethin’ we both regret,” he growls, and you laugh. “Make me.”
The two of you were separated after that and haven’t talked to each other since. Granted, it’s only been two days, but that is long for the two of you, honestly. And it’s been making everyone a target of Hobie’s rude remarks and your cynicism. The two of you need to talk because clearly, not talking just makes the two of you feel worse.
Even though Hobie’s acting like this is the worst thing his friends could possibly do to him, he does kind of sort of miss you. Which he hates. It’s been two days and he’s already missing you? Disgusting. He can’t wait to yell at you about it. He’s able to keep his cool and pretend like he really doesn’t want to go, but in reality, he’s so anxious to see you. “Alright, come on,” Gwen says, motioning for Hobie to enter the portal. He glances around at them. “Makin’ me go first?”
“Can’t have you run off at the last minute,” Gwen says and he sighs. “Whatever,” he says, walking a little too fast into the portal. He only stops when he’s enveloped in a familiar darkness. He feels something brush up against his leg, and he lets go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Good seein’ ya, Shadow,” he says, bending down to give your cat some attention. Shadow headbutts him and he scratches between his ears. Your cat loves Hobie, much to your disdain.
“You hurt him, I kill you,” you said to him the second time he was at your place. He picked up Shadow while you were in your room, and when you came out and saw him holding your baby, you were ready to fight. But you were ready to fight him at any given moment anyways. “I won’t hurt him. He’s much cooler than his owner anyways,” Hobie says, petting his head. You roll your eyes. “Yeah well– wait is he purring?” you say, and Hobie smirks at you. “Looks like he likes me better than his owner too.”
“Shut the fuck up. Shadow!” you call your cat, your voice going from a tone that screams ‘I hate you’ to one that screams ‘I love you.’ Of course, Shadow’s ears perk up and he hops out of Hobie’s arms and right over to yours. You stick your tongue out at Hobie, who rolls his eyes and looks away to cover up the dusting of a smile on his face. “What are you, 12?” he asks, and you scoff. “Can I hold Shadow?” Pavitr asks, and you hand him to him without a second thought. But no matter who you passed him to, he’d either end up in yours or Hobie’s lap.
He's so lost in the memory that he doesn’t even sense you approaching. “So, you decided to actually show up. I’m surprised,” he hears your voice and looks up at you. “Wasn’t exactly by choice, love. If I had it my way, I’d never be in this hellhole again,” he retorts, and you just shake your head and say nothing. That’s strange. You thought for sure you would mention something about him being forced to do something even though he always does what he wants. “What? Have you lost your spitfire after only two days of not talkin’ to me?” he asks, standing. You sigh. “I just… I don’t have the energy to fight today, Hobie. Okay?”
Don’t have the energy? You literally always have the energy to fight with him. Before he can say anything else, Pavitr comes through the portal.
“(Y/n)! How have you been?” he asks, excitedly, hugging you. Hobie doesn’t like that. But what he doesn’t like even more is the slight look of pain that spreads across your face for a split second. He observes silently as you play it off like nothing happened, and Pavitr is none the wiser to it. Gwen and Miles enter shortly after, and the dynamic you all had before yours and Hobie’s attempted murder of each other returns. Except for the constant bickering between you and Hobie. Instead, it’s just a lot of silent glaring, and subtle reactions. “Okay, hold on. What the hell is this?” Miles asks, and you both look at him. “What?” you say at the same time, ending in a side eye to each other. “That! That right there, why aren’t you two threatening to tear each other’s heads off because you said the same thing?” Miles asks, and Hobie shrugs. “I got nothin’ to say to them.”
“Ditto,” you say, and the three of them look at you two like your heads just got cut off. “Are you serious?”
“Do I look like I’m havin’ a laugh, mate?” Hobie snaps at Miles and he puts his hands up in surrender. “This… is odd. I can’t recall the last time it was quiet between you two.”
“Because it never was. They always went for each other’s throats like their own lives depended on it,” Pavitr says to Gwen, and you clear your throat. “We’re right here, you know,” you say with a forced grin. “Yeah, care to save the talkin’ bout us til we aren’t around?” Hobie grumbles and the three glance at each other before nodding. “Sorry, you two…” Gwen says, and you shrug. “It’s whatever. Dealt with worse,” you say, and Hobie nods. He glances over at you again. How is no one else noticing how weird you’re acting? Is he the only one who pays attention to you or some shit?
This isn’t the first time he’s picked up on your odd behaviors. Within the time he knew you, he was able to notice your behaviors unlike anyone else.
He wasn’t necessarily looking for you. He’d never go out of his way to look for you in a million years, yet here he was. In your world because you didn’t show up at the allotted time everyone was gonna meet up at in his world. He webbed up to the tallest building, the Ember Stake Building. It resembled that of a wooden stake, except all black and metal instead of wood. Sure enough, you were there. “You’re late.”
You turn and look at him, but don’t say anything. Instead, you just turn away. He frowns. “What’s that all about, then?” he asks, plopping next to you. You sigh. “I think I’m just gonna stay here tonight.”
“What? Why? Because you’re too borin’ to do anythin’ fun? Gotta work late tonight?”
“No. Personal reasons,” you say and he cocks his head to the side. “Such as?”
“Fuck off, Hobie. I’m not telling you.”
“Yes, you are. What’s goin’ on in that empty head of yours?” he asks and you give him an unamused look. “It’s the anniversary of my Uncle Belial’s death,” you mumble. He frowns. “Ah. I see.”
“...Yeah.” The two of you sit in silence, the wind the only noise happening before he sighs. “Well then, you’re definitely comin’ tonight.” He stands. You look at him. “I just said-”
“And I don’t give a shit. Come on, your friends are waitin’ for you. Besides, they can help ya get your mind off of it. Chop-chop.” You ended up going because you were forced to. But you did have a good time. Hobie was right, it helped you get your mind off of things. And maybe you were reading into it, but he seemed just a tad bit nicer to you that night than normal.
And you could tell his.
“And what the hell is your problem today?” you appear behind Hobie who is angrily restringing his guitar in his common room at Spider Society. “Well now you’re a part of it,” he responds. You sit on the floor across from him. “As much as I’m happy just my presence can reduce you to a massive asshole, I don’t think I’m the only reason this time.”
“How could you even tell?”
You shrug. “You busy your mind and hands when you’ve got something on your mind,” you say, and he looks at you. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Didn’t realize you were obsessed with me.”
“You wish,” you say. He sighs. “New group of fascist assholes showed up today,” he begrudgingly opens up and you nod. “Told you so.” He glares at you. “Had to say it,” you say, “But you’ll beat them. You always do.” He glances at you. “And if you can’t, I’ll just take care of it for you.” He laughs, unamused. “I’d like to see you try.”
He’s unsure why so many memories are flooding back to him at this moment in time. The answer is that he’s obsessed with you and Pavitr is right, but we don’t need to talk about that until he realizes it for himself. Maybe not seeing you has made him think about you more for some reason. He shakes his head, rejoining the conversation. Everything goes surprisingly well for the rest of the time you all are together. Unfortunately, Gwen gets a notice that something is happening in her world, and she has to go. Miles follows, and Pavitr is torn between going with them or staying with the two of you to make sure no one gets murdered. Or to see some romantic shit.
“We been behavin’, haven’t we?” Hobie says, a bit relieved they were leaving so he could find out what was up with you. You were close with the others, but even they’ve commented on you two only opening up with each other. “You actually have… and maybe it’d be good to leave them alone. Talk out whatever issues they’re having,” Miles says to Pavitr and Gwen, who look at each other but reluctantly agree. Miles and Pav rush into Gwen’s world before her. “I swear if you two kill each other I’m going to kill both of you,” Gwen says, walking backward into the portal to her world and pointing at the two of you. “We won’t.”
“Probably,” Hobie finishes, and Gwen rolls her eyes before disappearing. There’s a silent tension between the two of you before he speaks up. “What happened?”
“I don’t know what you’re–”
“Don’t play dumb with me, now. What happened?” he pushes, and you frown at him. Shadow leaps up into your lap and nuzzles you. You sigh and gently pet him. Hobie stays silent, watching and waiting. “Just… bad day,” you mumble. “Bad day, how?”
“Bad spider day.” He hums. “That why you looked like Pav stabbed ya after that hug?” You look at him, surprised. “You saw that?”
“Course I did. ‘m not fuckin’ daft,” he responds, and you look at Shadow. “Yeah… it’s nothing, though. Just a few scratches, typical Spider-Person shit,” you say, and he nods. “Let me see, then.”
“What?”
“Let me see.”
“Why?”
“Cause you’re lyin’,” he shrugs, and you glare at him. “Have I told you I hated you?”
“Not recently, but yeah.” You glare at him but sigh. “Fuck you, Hobie,” you mumble, but shrug off your oversized cardigan. His eyes widen as he sees deep lacerations and bruises spread across your shoulder and onto your back. He stands up and approaches you without even realizing it. You watch him as he studies your injuries. “Who did this?” His voice sounds darker than you’ve ever heard it. You look away from him. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he responds immediately. You turn your head to look at him again, only to have him staring directly into your eyes. “Prowler,” you mumble, and he frowns. “The worst of the worst in your world,” he whispers to himself, recalling a conversation the two of you had months ago. He glances around. “Where’s your first aid kit?” he asks, and you look at him with a side-eye. “Why?”
“Cause I wanna get high off the painkillers in it, why do you think, you dolt?” he snaps, and you point to your bathroom. “Under the sink.” He gets up and walks into your bathroom, grabs the first aid kit, and walks back out to you on your couch. “Turn round and move a bit,” he says, and you do. He sits behind you, starting to clean and stitch to your injuries up. You wince slightly and he frowns. “Why haven’t you done this yet?”
“I can’t reach back there myself.”
“Then ask someone else to do it.”
“I don’t have anyone to ask anymore.”
“Yes, you do,” he says without missing a beat. You turn your head to say something snarky to him, but he looks at you at the same time. Your faces are closer than the two of you expected, causing you both to quickly look away. You can feel your face burning, and you’re grateful the injuries are mainly on your back and not close to your heart because you don’t want to hear his comments about how fast it’s beating. On an equal note, Hobie’s happy you aren’t looking at him because he has his jaw clenched and swallows hard. His heart is beating just as fast, but he pretends like it’s nothing, just like you. He finishes the stitches, placing bandages over top of them. “Done,” he says, and you mutter a quick ‘thank you’ as he tosses the first aid kit onto your coffee table. “Should be healed by tomorrow,” you mumble, and he nods. “When did that happen?”
“A few hours before you all got here,” you admit, and he frowns. “And you were just gonna pretend nothing happened?”
“Yes. I told you earlier, I’m too tired to deal with any bullshit today, okay?” you confess, and he frowns.
“He get ya that good cause you’re tired?”
“I guess.”
“When’s the last time you slept?”
“Dunno.”
“Stop lyin’ love,” he says, and the nickname you hate oh so much sounds just a little sweeter to you than it should. “Couple days ago.”
“You haven’t slept in two days?” You shake your head, and he sighs. “Go the fuck to sleep. Now.”
“But–”
“Go,” he demands, pointing to your bedroom. You groan, “You’re so fucking annoying,” you mumble, getting up and dragging yourself to your room. “Yeah, yeah whatever,” he says, following you. You flop onto your bed as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Come to tuck me in?”
“You wish,” he watches as Shadow hops up onto your bed, curling up against you. You immediately put your hand on him and pet him. Hobie frowns as he feels a pang of annoyance toward your cat. “Gonna stand there and watch me sleep or something?” your voice pulls him out of his ridiculous thoughts, and he scoffs. “Gonna stand here and make sure you don’t try to get up as soon as I go,” he says, and you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, rolling away from him. He stands there until he’s sure you’re asleep. He glances at Shadow, who is still awake and staring at him. He puts his finger to his lips to say “shh” as he pulls his mask over his head.
He and the Prowler of this world need to have a bit of a chat.
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#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown x you#hobie x reader#spiderpunk x reader#spiderverse x reader#hobie brown#hobie#spiderpunk#spider-punk#spiderverse#theclashofthespiderverse
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hello! It was just recently when I found your page and Immediately loved how you write Luffy!
I wanted to know if you could write a short fic about jealous! Luffy, maybe the crew land on a island, they went to a bar and reader started get hit on by another dude, I wonder if luffy would be overprotective or wouldn’t care that much.
tysm for the support! I’m so happy you like my writing, that means a lot!! :’) I’ve had some ideas for this concept and I love how this turned out, so thanks sm for the request <3
jealous luffy - luffy x gn!reader
fluff
summary in request, luffy’s progression from uneasy cluelessness into overprotective rage
words: 1k
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Luffy’s been holding your hand all day, like he always does. And he’s been roughly dragging you around across the island because he’s excited to be in a new town and make friends and find adventures. Evening comes and your hand is sweaty, you love Luffy but you want a little break, so you tell him that, as gently as you can, when you follow some of the crew into a tavern in the town square.
It’s loud and warm and Luffy wanders off to see if they have food here, so you’re left alone to sit in one of the bar stools and wait to catch the bartender’s attention so you can get a drink. Your excitement doesn’t overflow like Luffy’s does but it’s been a long, boring voyage over this particular sea and the stable ground, the unfamiliar faces, the world outside of a wooden box are so welcome, and so you’re in a particularly good mood, more outgoing than you would normally be.
So when a man comes to you, and sits by you, and begins to ask you who you are and compliment your clothes you let him, you talk back happily. Because you’ve been talking to just the same nine people for far too long. When he offers to buy you a drink you think why not? and agree with a dismissive laugh.
Luffy is bored and notices you talking to a man he’s never seen before. He isn’t jealous, not yet. He doesn’t pick up on anything out of the ordinary, he doesn’t see a problem with his hand being close to yours, or the drink he offers you. In fact, Luffy’s jealous of you, because you’re getting something for free and he isn’t. He gets antsy and wants to hold your hand again, now that he’s in a bad mood. So he comes and sits cross legged on the floor, leaning against your stool, not saying anything.
You smile at him and return to your conversation. You’re aware, only vaguely, of how the man is leaning in closer towards you, how his gestures brush your arm. Luffy isn’t. But Luffy still feels agitated, like something’s not right, though he can’t place it. He plays with the cuff of your pants, staring straight ahead, brows furrowed.
You lean away as the man gets closer. You don’t feel in danger, you’re slightly amused at this man’s clear attempts to hit on you, you continue to laugh it off because Luffy’s there and you feel safe. You bring your hand up to rest your head on, to get it away from his creeping fingers, your body language is subtle but Luffy is starting to feel like something isn’t right. Something feels off in his heart, his stomach.
He’s watching the man now, from the floor beneath you, glaring as the man glances down icily at him. Luffy is stressed, a hand wrapping around your ankle. The man doesn’t feel threatened, he’s too confident, emboldened and cocky he rubs it in by leaning closer and complimenting you more. He wants to make Luffy jealous.
Luffy is angry. His face is heating up. Who does this man think he is? And as Luffy gets angry you’re feeling off too, like the man is getting too close, fingers reach out and brush your hair.
“Hey,” you try to dodge, not having any fun anymore. You want out, you’re racing to think up an excuse, or try to get Luffy to do something, but you’re scared. The man is tall and strong, probably a pirate himself, you don’t know what he might do in the face of denial. You feel awful for your kindness and excitement just minutes ago, you feel a little sick. The man tries to hold your hand and you jerk away, no subtlety anymore.
And that’s when Luffy breaks. The rage inside him suddenly explodes because he may not know what it means to come onto someone, but he knows you, he knows when you’re upset. And his overprotective side takes over and he decides that this man is going to be the one to pay.
Luffy shoots up from the floor and punches the man in the face with all the force he can, yelling at him to get away from you. You gasp and scurry off the stool, trying to grab Luffy’s shoulders, but he lunges at the man again with a sharp uppercut. The man reaches for the cutlass on his belt, blood dripping from his mouth, but Luffy sees red and hits and hits.
The tavern has turned to the three of you in shock, but cheers erupt from the alcohol ridden crowd as an animalistic fight breaks the bar in half. And there’s a clear winner.
Luffy stands, soon, in a rage-filled daze, fists clenched as he looks down at the unconscious man beneath him. And in an instant you’re crushed into strong, flexed arms, lifted from the ground, hands gripping your skin as Luffy holds you tightly in a silent need to keep you for himself. Kisses pepper your face and he rubs your hands and wrists and shoulders where you had been touched before by the man Luffy can’t stand to look at again.
“He can’t have you,” Luffy says unhappily, face buried in your neck, pouting like a child.
“Luffy…” You wrap your arms around him and try to steady your breathing, soaking in his familiar smell and warmth. “I’m ok… it’s alright-”
Your lips are met with a forceful kiss before you finish speaking. “Mmm!” Luffy grumbles into your mouth, still mad, a newfound clinginess developing in his heart as he grips you protectively.
You’re so aware of all the eyes on you, but all that you need right now is the overpowering presence of Luffy all around you. You’re safe. It’s over now. You close your eyes, Luffy’s mouth still attached to yours, as Nami rushes over to drag both of you out of the tavern.
#I like requests#luffy x reader#one piece x reader#luffy#one piece#luffy x y/n#one piece fanfiction#luffy x you#jealous!luffy#jealous luffy#jealous luffy x reader#luffy x gn!reader#luffy x reader fluff
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Another version of Bestie’s Werewolf Brother where you two have fallen out of contact for years and when he finds out you’re having a baby with someone else because you start being friends with his sister again and he gets really possessive and starts stalking you again. He finds out you’re a single mom and suddenly he realizes he just wants a baby with you even if it’s not his pup 🥺❣️Mostly fluff plz but I’d love some smut too
Not you bringing out this trope when I literally posted it’s my fave. Lol. No smut all fluff but I might do more with this if y’all like it 🥰
When you got pregnant your boyfriend acted like he was happy. He lavished you in compliments and told everyone how excited he was to be starting a family with you. Your childhood bestie and you even reconnected, her excited about baby names and planning your baby shower. It’s like you picked up right where you left off.
When you ask about her brother, she’s obviously uncomfortable. She comes up with all kinds of excuses about why he doesn’t want to talk to you, or why he seemed to have just vanished off social media recently. You can’t help but feeling hurt but you keep it to yourself.
When you catch your boyfriend cheating on you, you end up packing up all your stuff in a night and moving back in with your parents. It sucks. You can’t help but feel like a failure. You start going for walks more at the local park, just trying anything to keep your mind off your predicament.
“Hey,” you heard a familiar voice say from behind you.
You didn’t know that he had already been stalking you for months. Ever since he found out you were pregnant. He thought he could get past it, get past you, but hearing that you had been with someone else drove him crazy. He wanted to be angry with you. To hate you, even, and that other man’s baby, but the longer he stalked you, the more he realized how much he missed you. How he just wanted to be around you again.
“Hi,” you said as you turned around, awkwardly holding your arms in front of your stomach. You knew he knew, but you couldn’t help but wish this wasn’t the first time he was seeing you after all these years.
“It looks like you’re doing well.”
You shrugged, moving your arms and shoving your hands in your pockets. “I guess.”
“My sister said you’re… getting engaged,” he managed to get out without growling.
“We were, but some stuff happened. I’m living back at home until I can find a place.”
He knew he shouldn’t be happy, but he was. After that, he started offering to help you with everything. Need someone to drive you to an OBGYN appointment? Needed help putting the bassinet together? Couldn’t figure out which kind of car seat to get? He was always there and offering to help.
You were surprised, pleasantly so. You’d never thought much about it, but you didn’t think that he would be so involved in your pregnancy when 1) you weren’t dating and 2) it wasn’t his baby. As the weeks passed, he started asking to touch your stomach when he saw movement. He came to your parents’ house all hours of the day if you even hinted that you wanted to see him or if you wanted something.
When you went into labor, your mother took you, much to his disappointment. He came to visit you of course, but he seemed a little off when he came in. His head was down, and he wasn’t nearly as imposing as he normally was, especially considering he was mostly shifted. Then a nurse came back in with the baby after giving a bath.
“Oh! Here’s Dad,” she smiled as she placed the small bundle in his arms, though she did admittedly look a little uneasy.
You started to correct her, but he just started at the little one in his arms with wide eyes. You’d never seen him be so gentle. His ears were perked up, and you couldn’t help but notice his tail started to wag. He shushed you mid-sentence as you tried telling the nurse he wasn’t the dad.
“Human babies are so tiny,” he whispered, rocking the baby in his arms.
The nurse looked between you before slipping out. He stayed almost the entire time you were in the hospital. Even your parents left more often than him. While he was attentive to you, he was even more attentive to the baby. Asking the nurses to show him how to swaddle. Reading up on when human babies can eat solid food (because it’s just a couple months for pups).
He’s the one that took you home. Your parents are excited when they see his car pull up and you’re admittedly a little confused. When you get inside, you see that he took it upon himself to baby proof everything. He put together an entire nursery when you were just going to have the baby sleep in your room in the bassinet. He even sprung to get a crib since he had read online that infants can only be in bassinets for a few months.
That’s when you realize that he really is the best for you. He’s always been the best for you, and he’s the best for your baby too. The baby fell asleep in his arms before he settled the tiny bundle into the crib. Tears pricked your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his back, burying your face in his shoulder.
“You’ll stay, right?”
A low rumble in his chest vibrated your body when he spun around, grabbing you up in his arms. “I’ll never leave again.”
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god, stuff like this is such a punch to the gut. i usually don’t feel that emotionally affected by comments like this other than being angry at them, but it’s so different when it’s someone i genuinely really respect, who seems to be very conscious of these things, who’s making a point of being a vocal ally, and they still just don’t see how people really treat us.
so much of the current legislation against trans healthcare (i would argue the vast majority of it, if not literally all of it) is founded upon denial of our bodily autonomy and fearmongering about our transitions. people call us predators and abusers for having and feeding our children. a huge number of people pretty recently jumped on a singular incidence of violence as “proof” that testosterone turns us all into evil monsters. people talk about how we’re stealing our bodies from them and say that if they could just grope us or have sex with us, we’d see that we’re really women. we ask for something as simple as the use of language that includes us so that we can better access the healthcare we need, and even that is asking too much.
but sure, people don’t really have a problem with us being men, so everyone can just stop bothering with affirming that we are who we say we are because clearly people are already on board with that idea, right?
and of course, it’s upsetting on a personal (one might say parasocial) level because it just sucks to see someone you respect openly state that they don’t think the things happening to your community are really happening. that was the initial reaction i had — i know this is one person, a fallible person, who i have no true relationship with, but it still feels like a betrayal of some sort to read that.
the thing that really gets me, though, is that there are a lot of people who trust him (whether rightly or not) to be a good source of info, and a lot of those people are going to see this and just take it at face value. they’re not going to look into it, they’re just going to accept that people really don’t have a problem with us and they’re going to feel empowered to look the other way when we’re under attack. i’m sure he wouldn’t want people to take the things he says at face value without fact-checking them, but the fact remains that most people will do just that and will proceed to not give a shit about us because they don’t think they have to.
it’s one thing to see this coming from some random person. it’s another entirely when it’s someone you already liked and respected, and who has a large audience who are likely to trust the things they say.
and it just…would’ve been so easy to not say it, to just say “they’re men!” and let that message stand without immediately undermining its importance.
#i dont give a shit about what garden variety transphobes think but shit like this? yeah that hurts#i usually dont love ‘trans men are men’ being The Ally Statement but god. the implications of even That being seen as overkill#like no!!!! we need people saying MORE than that not justifying why they dont have to say anything at all!!!!!!!#examples of transandrophobia#transandrophobia#transandromisia#transmisandry#virilmisia#virilphobia#anti transmasculinity#transmascphobia#trans men#transmascs
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