#obsessed with this it’s fine don’t worry about it
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so american ; CL16
pairing(s) ; charles leclerc x american!reader
summary ; in which a trip to monaco turns permenant because of one ferrari racing driver
warnings ; fast paced relationship, smau, google translated french (pls correct anything that’s wrong) & FLUFFF
note ; lol sorry i lowkey disappeared. anyways. here’s charles and leo (aka everyone’s fav duo)
instagram !
liked by friend1, charlesleclerc, and others
youruser leo & i might never leave 🥰🇲🇨
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friend1 monaco is so so beautiful
yourbff you can’t leave me here alone in the us
youruser but…
charles_leclerc im stealing her
yourbff you’ve know her for 3 weeks
charles_leclerc whats your point ??
friend2 the states miss you come home
friend3 leo has a new lap to sit in????
yourbff i feel cheated on
charles_leclerc i’ll make sure you don’t leave ☺️❤️
youruser having the best time of my life with you🫶
yourbff saying you’re not gonna let her leave is kinda creepy not gonna lie…
charles_leclerc you’re just jealous coz she doesn’t wanna go back to the us and wants to stay with me
friend4 you look so happy😁
instagram !
liked by fan1, fan2, and others
cl16updating recent pictures of charles with a puppy, fans who asked him about the dog say his name is leo and he is not charles dog but he is staying with him for a while!! we are also unsure who the girl in his car in the last picture is, if anyone has any idea please share her instagram @ with us!!!!!!!!
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fan1 omg he’s not his dog??? i’m devastated now i wanted leo paddock appearances
fan2 idk maybe if you guys find her instagram @ don’t share it,, if charles wanted us to know about her he’d share with us
fan3 if she doesn’t want us to know about her maybe she shouldn’t hang out with the prince of monaco
fan4 she should be able to hang with whoever she wants. some of y’all are so weird
fan5 imma steal that dog
fan6 that means we probs won’t get leo in the paddock😭
fan7 maybe leo is the girls’ dog and she’s a friend of charles visiting him or something idk
imessages !
translation 1: ‘i’ll miss you so much’
translation 2: ‘we can be crazy together, my love’
twitter !
instsgram !
youruser added to the story!
charles_leclerc added to his close friends story!
charles_leclerc replied to your story
↳ you always do baby
↳ god you’re so cheesy
↳ i hate you
↳ can we go back home i miss leo
↳ charlie babe leo will be fine by himself for 3 hours
↳ i know i know
↳ i just love him so much
you replied to charles_leclerc’s story
↳ CHARLIE DELETE
↳ THE DOGS ARE OUT😭😭😭
↳ LEO GOT OUT??????????????? WHERE IS HE ??? IS HE SAFE??? DID SOMEONE FIND HIM??:??;??/??
↳ omg baby no leo’s fine i’m sorry for worrying you
↳ why would you joke about that
↳ i think i nearly had a heart attack
↳ you’re more obsessed with leo than me
instagram !
liked by user1, user2, and others
f1wagupdates charles and his girlfriend (leo’s mum — we don’t know her name) this saturday. the owner of the first pic said that they were out for dinner with pascale, arthur, lorenzo, and their girlfriends.
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user1 she so beautiful oh my god
user2 where’s leo
user3 girl she doesn’t have to take him everywhere
user4 i think her name is y/n… my cousin in america said that she looks like someone she used to go to school with
user5 i looked through charles’ following and he follows a private account with that name @youruser
user6 ooo that could be her fs
user7 did she really leave leo alone.. she’s a bad owner wtf
user8 leo is a dog he’ll be ok by himself for a few hours omg you just want a reason to hate her go touch grass
twitter !
twitter !
instagram !
liked by carlossainz55, lorenzotl, and others
charles_leclerc happy gorgeous amazing month ☺️❤️
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user1 CHARLES who is THAT
user2 Y/N CONTENT ON THE MAIN ‼️‼️‼️
carlossainz55 whipped
user3 omg is she playing his piano
user4 yes with her feet
youruser love love love you
charles_leclerc chérie💓💓
user4 anyone else think they’re moving REALLY quickly…. like i heard they’re living together already
user5 who CAREEESSSSS
user6 it’s none of our business
yourbff you’re all she talks about oh my GOD
charles_leclerc are you jealous
instagram !
liked by leclerc_pascale, yourbff, and others
youruser “too much, too soon” i’m living with him lol
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yourbff remember when we had conversations that weren’t about him
youruser wdym
yourbff i hate him
yourbff you’re OBSESSED with him
yourbff you guys are DISGUSTING
youruser you sound jealous
yourbff i AM. that little french driving man STOLE my best friend
charles_leclerc FRENCH????????
friend1 miss you 🫶🫶
joris__trouche ❤️
friend2 come visit soon we miss youuuu
friend3 you’re so so so gorgeous
charles_leclerc MON AMOURRR
charles_leclerc YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL I WANNA KISS YOUR FACE
yourbff can you get me a ticket to the miami gp so i can see my wife pls
charles_leclerc no you’re gonna try steal her back
yourbff @youruser ur boyfriend is being mean to me
youruser charlie i lost my miami paddock pass can you get me another one pls but like could you put it under the name y/bff/n y/bff/ln please, for no reason☺️
charles_leclerc okay baby💓💓
youruser stop it i love you so so much you’re so adorable😭
leclerc_pascale Leo ❤️
youruser he misses you 🥰
imessages !
#charles leclerc#charles#leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charlesleclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#cl16 imagine#formula one#f1#formula 1#ferrari#x reader#olivia rodrigo#charles leclerc fluff#charles fluff#cl16 fluff#f1 imagine#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula one fluff#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#smau#charles leclerc smau#formula one smau#f1 smau#formula 1 smau
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I am thinking about a Tiny Wife, and a Tiny Husband. they live in the walls of a human couple’s home. got married young and rushed, drifted apart in their thirties, but it’s fine. the humans are in a similar boat. they all make it work. so the Tiny Husband does the majority of the borrowing, and the Giant Husband does the majority of the cooking, and it’s only natural that their paths cross. and they hate each other.
the Giant Husband sees this little guy as an absolute pest. destroying his herb gardens and stealing his food. so he lays traps, chases him, puts all his energy into catching this tiny. he doesn’t tell his Giant Wife. and yet, he obsesses. the Tiny Husband sees the Giant as an obstacle, and takes on the traps as challenges. he steals more than he needs, makes a show of his theft now that the human is aware. his Tiny Wife worries, but he persists.
because there’s a specific little feeling he gets around the Giant Husband that he hasn’t gotten from anyone in a long time. a sharp thrill in his chest, a flutter in his stomach. and it’s wrong, and he also might die, but he goes out anyways just to see him. and he has a very, very strong feeling that Giant Husband feels the same.
(he does.)
Tiny Wife is not stupid, though. initially relived by the extra alone time, she eventually realizes Tiny Husband’s gone more than he should be and he’s bringing home more than normal. she trails after him one night, and watches how her husband has this dangerous dance with the Giant Husband. the threats, the sharp comments, the danger, but more than that, how they look at each other. the light in his eyes when he comes home.
and Tiny Wife is a little bothered by how she isn’t bothered. if anything, she’s happy for Tiny Husband. she’s never seen that spark, and she’s never held it for him. she’s happy he’s getting that, even if it’s in an atypical way. despite this, she still feels an obligation to Giant Wife, and so one night while Tiny Husband and Giant Husband are trying to kill each other, she creeps her way into the massive bedroom.
Giant Wife is having tea, her soft face lit by candles. Tiny Wife makes her presence known from her perch on the nightstand, and Giant Wife does not seem as startled as she should be. introductions are made, and Tiny Wife breaks the news that their husbands are…. well they’re not fucking, she doesn’t think, instead something much weirder, but emotionally entangled regardless.
and the Giant Wife already knows. she’s at peace with it, god, she’s happy for the quiet with her husband so busy. it was an arraigned marriage, and she’s not bothered, don’t worry little one, perhaps since you’re free would you like to stay for some tea? Tiny Wife does. she has tea in the candlelight with this giantess, and when she walks home, she has a certain smile on her face that’s never been there before.
I like to think it works out. the Husbands come clean and the Wives laugh at them. everything changes, in the sense that Tiny and Giant Wives now have tea every evening and spend the nights together, and nothing changes, in the sense that the Husbands are still trying to kill each other.
(but now they also kiss sometimes, too.)
#g/t#giant tiny#giant/tiny#at what point does a post stop being a post and start being a story#long post#id put a readmore but it always messes up my posts on mobile :( im sorry#infidelity cw#even tho it works out
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From a Mean Lie, Love Begins - Roger Barel
As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. Secondhand embarrassment ahead.
After finishing dinner, I had some free time and so I decided to help Roger with his research.
As I descended the stairs leading to the basement like usual, I heard two people talking and stopped in my tracks.
(Roger and…Harrison?)
Their expressions were so serious that I couldn’t find the right time to call out to them.
Harrison: …In such a bad shape?
Roger: Yeah. Heard from experts that it can’t be returned to its original state.
Spine’s so wrecked and can’t stand without support.
Harrison: So caught up in research that you can’t even take care of yourself. What a laugh.
…Could’ve done something about it if it was caught sooner.
(What does he mean…? Roger, are you in such a bad state that you can’t stand…?)
He looked fine last night while happily drinking.
(But…there are some illnesses out there that are invisible)
(Was he self-destructing by drinking so much because he couldn’t save himself…?)
Roger: Well, I’ll see what I can do for now. I got a reputation of not being a quitter.
Just gotta hang in there ‘til the end. If you can’t…then we’ll deal with it when the time comes.
As I secretly peeped at them, I saw Roger give a weak smile.
(Roger’s body really is wrecked…)
(He couldn’t have been lying if Harrison’s there…)
I couldn’t bring myself to say anything and quietly left before they could notice.
–
(I wasn’t aware that Roger’s condition was that bad…)
(But now that I know…I can change my behavior)
(Tomorrow, I’ll do my best to support Roger so that he doesn’t suffer)
The day after learning about Roger’s condition, I secretly made a decision. I’ll immediately start helping him out.
–
Kate: Here, Roger. Open your mouth please.
After cutting the meat on the plate into bite-sized pieces, I held it up to Roger’s mouth.
Roger: …? I can eat by myself, lil’ lady.
Kate: Please don’t overwork yourself! I’ll be supporting you throughout your life!
Roger: The hell’s gotten into you?
Roger tried to stand up with a puzzled look on his face, and I rushed to stop him.
Kate: Ah, please don’t force yourself to stand!
Roger: I just wanna get a drink…
Kate: I’ll get it for you!
I stood up instead and got Roger a glass of water.
Kate: Here you go Roger.
Roger: Thanks…
Alfons: Good grief…Stop worrying about that muscle-headed, research-obsessed idiot and feed me, little robin?
Kate: …You’re feeling fine, aren’t you Alfons? You don’t need help, do you?
Alfons: I’m certainly feeling rather energized this morning, however…
With the way you’re speaking…You make it sound as if Roger’s not well.
Kate: …
I became depressed as I thought back to yesterday’s conversation.
Roger: …Lil’ lady?
Kate: I heard it yesterday. The conversation between you and Harrison…
That your body was so wrecked that you couldn’t stand…!
Roger: Hm? That’s…
Alfons: Oh? I knew you wouldn’t live long but is it finally time to kick the bucket?
Roger: …
At the question, Roger exchanged glances with Harrison and then let out a sigh.
Roger: …Everyone’s gonna wind up six feet under eventually. It just depends on when.
(If you’re not denying it, then it’s true…?)
Kate: Please don’t talk about giving up like that…!
I may not understand your condition, but I’ll be supporting you from today onward!
Roger: That’s helpful. Well I got some research I’d like you to help me with now…
Kate: Please leave it to me!
–
I was helping Roger out with his research like he’d asked and it was approaching midnight.
Roger: It’s getting late. Why don’t you get back to your room, lil’ lady?
Kate: What about you?
Roger: …I’ll get some rest too.
Kate: Liar. You’re going to keep working, aren’t you?
When I glared at Roger for that impromptu lie, he just shrugged.
Roger: …I got some interesting data so I wanna work on it for a bit longer.
Kate: It’s not like the data’s going anywhere tomorrow and the numbers won’t change.
Take it easy and look after yourself.
I forced Roger out of his chair and onto an infirmary bed.
Roger: Are you planning on helping me not just today, but the next day onward too?
Kate: Yes. I’m worried about your health so that’s my intention.
Roger: Heh, your thoughts never fail to surprise me. You’d agree to anything I’d ask you right now, wouldn’t you?
Kate: Is there anything else you want me to do?!
Roger asked me to help with his research today, but…that’s just an extension of how I usually help him.
(If I could do anything for Roger since he’s not physically well…I’d do it)
Roger: Yeah…How about this.
Kiss me.
Roger grabbed my hand as he sat up in bed.
(Why a kiss…ah)
(If you don’t feel well, then you’ll feel even more lonely or hopeless…)
No doubt the kiss wouldn’t have any special feeling behind it…rather, it’d just be some physical contact to fill the loneliness.
(Roger’s selfishly kissed me numerous times before)
(No point in rejecting him at this point)
(More importantly, I’d like to help Roger when I can…)
Because I’m standing, I don’t have to go on my tiptoes to kiss him today.
To keep it from getting in the way,I tucked my hair behind my ear with the hand not being held by Roger.
Kate: Nn…
I gave Roger a light peck.
Though it was just a brief, I filled Roger’s heart with all the compassion I could muster.
Roger: Ha…it’s still not enough.
Roger tugged hard on the hand he was holding.
Kate: …Oof
Roger was pushed down onto the bed as he pulled me toward him.
Kate: A-are you alright?! Does it hurt anywhere?
Roger: Nothing hurts so just leave it. That aside, do it again.
Kate: …
At his begging, I pushed Roger down and kissed him again.
This time, his hand went up to the back of my head to keep me from pulling away too soon.
Kate: Nn…haaa…
Roger’s tongue slid into my mouth and tangled with mine.
Breathtaking kisses were something Roger had shown me.
(I don’t know how many more kisses like this I’ll get…)
The thought of it made my heart ache…I continued to kiss Roger to make him happy.
Roger: …You’d really do anything, wouldn’t you?
Roger mumbled as our lips parted.
Roger: Do you do this with anyone you know is weak…?
(I tried to imagine it but…it’d be difficult to do this with anyone but Roger)
(Roger’s touched me before, so it’s a different set of obstacles from others…I think)
Kate: I think it’s normal to want to do things for someone who’s suffering.
Roger: …If that’s the case, then I can’t just go quietly.
Kate: …Huh?
Roger: Who’ll take care of Crown when I’m gone?
They could call in a doctor from the outside, but it’d be hard to respond at my speed.
And if that does happen, you’d have a lot of weak men lying around you.
Don’t wanna put you in a situation where you’d be compassionate toward weak men besides me.
(Are you saying this to protect me…? But…)
Kate: But even if you say that, your body’s already…
Roger: Ah…Think it’s time I cleared up this misunderstanding.
Kate: Misunderstanding…?
Roger: That conversation you heard between Harrison and me was actually about—
~~ Flashback ~~
Roger: …?
Harrison: What’s up?
Roger: Nothing, just heard the lil’ lady’s footsteps…But she turned back.
Harrison: She probably read the air when she saw how serious we looked.
Roger: We weren’t talking about anything important so she could’ve just come in.
Harrison: Not important…Roger, do you really understand the value of this book?
It’s a book signed by Edgar Allan Poe and it got ruined by chemicals…!
The spine’s falling apart and the chemical’s made the text fade so much it’s unreadable.
It couldn’t even stand on its own when I put it on a bookshelf…
Roger: It was a gift, but I got so caught up in my research that I got careless.
Harrison: *sigh*...This is why people only interested in research are nothing but trouble.
~~ End flashback ~~
Roger: So…It wasn’t me that got wrecked but a book.
Kate: Really…?
Roger: Yeah, really. As you can see, I’m healthy as a horse.
Sorry for playing around with you without clearing it up right away. Thought it’d be a good excuse to get you to help with some research.
I’ll take all your complaints.
Kate: Y-you’re the worst!!
With a singular curse, I ran out and to my room.
After closing the door, I collapsed on the spot.
Kate: That’s a relief…
At least Roger isn’t dying…!
Feeling relieved, uncontrollable feelings spilled out in the form of tears.
I ran from Roger because I didn’t want him to see me cry.
Roger’s voice: …Lil’ lady.
Roger’s voice could be heard from out in the hallway.
Kate: W-what is it? I’m mad at you right now…!
Roger’s voice: I wanna apologize, so open the door.
Kate: Don’t want to…
Roger’s voice: That so. …With the lie I told, I don’t blame you.
I thought Roger would give up once I refused him, but he showed no signs of leaving.
Kate: Um…You’re not going back to your room?
Roger: I’m gonna wait ‘til you open the door for me.
(If you say that, then i have no choice but to open the door…)
I wiped my eyes and opened the door.
Roger: …
Kate: D-did you by chance…hear anything when I came back to my room?
Roger’s curse gave him supernatural hearing.
“At least Roger isn’t dying…”
If he heard me say that as I cried, then my angry act would be all for nothing.
Roger: No? Didn’t hear anything.
Anyway, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that misunderstanding about my life go that far.
Kate: …
…You said you lied to get me to help you.
So why the kiss?
Roger: You were worrying so much over taking care of me that it was endearing.
I wanted to dote on you.
Kate: That wasn’t doting?! I’d call that making things difficult for me!
Roger: Really? I always thought you enjoyed the kisses.
If I got the wrong idea then sorry. Let’s try again to be sure.
Kate: Why are you always taking things in that direction! Do you even actually feel sorry at all?
Roger: I think so…Sorry.
Roger’s sudden, touching apology distracted me from my anger.
Roger: I won’t lie to you anymore.
If me living longer makes you happy, then I’ll do just that.
Kate: I-I knew it. You did hear what I said when I got back to my room!
Roger: Whoops, that’s right. I didn’t hear a thing.
Kate: If you’re going to lie, then go through with it…!
Roger: Pfft…Haha.
Kate: …What are you laughing at?
Roger: Though I love how you look when you cry, I think I also love the way you yell with so much energy.
Sorry for worrying you the whole day.
Roger roughly patted my head.
As I begrudgingly looked up at him, I realized that my heart was racing again.
(Roger already heard me say that I was relieved that he wasn’t going to die, but…)
(...I hope he doesn’t notice the sound of my heart racing as he pats my head)
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hello i’m back from the dead, here’s a little something of reader being delusional in honor of tortured poets department. how could i not, i’m literally saylor twift.
Down Bad▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• 4:20
word count: 1859
“Playing it cool” is quite possibly one of the stupidest pieces of advice anyone could ever give. It’s practically human nature for people to do the exact opposite of what they’re told, no matter how much they don’t want to. It’s much more appealing to adhere to the phrase, “If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself”, and as someone as independent and stubborn as you were, it was all too easy to tune out what anyone else had to say about your situation. Were you making any progress? Of course not. But for the time being, you were perfectly content to simply admire your muse from a view. (Not really, it was difficult as hell. But that’s really all he’d allow from you.)
There was one question though that plagued your mind: why then, if you’d been able to manage conversations with him just fine in the past like any two friends would, was it so difficult to even walk past him now that your true feelings had been realized? Shouldn’t you have some sort of advantage, having known him for so long? And to make matters worse, recently it had been feeling like the two of you were complete strangers. It truly felt as if he was avoiding you like the plague- it was a miracle if you were able to even spot him from a distance strolling down Treasures Street. If you happened to make eye contact, it would make your face burn and your stomach tingle with butterflies to an almost embarrassing extent. You kept telling yourself that next time you saw him, you’d talk to him. The plan was that if you could slowly bring yourself closer and closer to him, you’d be able to experience the slow burn romance of your dreams!
Unfortunately though, as well as unsurprisingly, every time there was a ‘next time’, you felt yourself too afraid to make any sort of attempt at conversation. You had begun to worry that you’d possibly done something wrong, because he was giving you the impression that he wanted nothing to do with you. Quickened steps when he saw you approaching, or a nasty habit of breaking eye contact the second it was created were just a few of the new behaviors you’d noticed. Is it possible, then, that he’d caught on to your feelings, and is avoiding a confession at all costs? No, that can’t be it. You hadn’t done anything that would warrant any sort of suspicion from him. (Outwardly, at least. Your daydreams reminiscent of those of a crush-stricken middle schooler would say otherwise.) In any case, it was getting harder and harder to stay optimistic when with every passing day the two of you grew more distant.
One day, you keep telling yourself, you’d have the courage to make a move on the cold, sarcastic, and unapproachable young man. After all, you were convinced the two of you were destined to be together. It was just a matter of time before it happened, right?
Until suddenly you were struck painfully in the face with a harsh reality check. You watch him exit the large wooden doors of the Akedimiya, as he usually does at this time of day. You’d decided to wait for him, in hopes you’d be able to gather your courage and greet him. And then maybe, he’d continue the conversation, just like old times. You stood outside, meanwhile leaning up against one of the large stone pillars and nervously anticipating his arrival. He’s uncharacteristically late today. Usually, he’s the type to remain in his classes for absolutely no longer than what is necessary. You can’t help but wonder if you’ve somehow got the time wrong, or maybe his schedule. Today was Friday, right? You were certain his lectures ended at exactly this time every Friday. (You absolutely did not have his entire class schedule memorized, what kind of an obsessed weirdo would do that?) After an agonizing amount of time later, awaiting his arrival with bated breath and nearly on the verge of chickening out and returning home where your nerves wouldn’t be attacking you every waking moment, the wooden doors swing open. And lo and behold, there he is: your beloved Hat Guy. Only… he’s not alone?
Walking side by side, the Wanderer strolls out into the sunshine next to a lovely looking brown haired girl, also adorning the typical Akedimiya attire. She yaps on about something to him, all the while with a large grin on her face. One that you cannot deny is a beautiful smile. But the strangest part is, he doesn’t seem to be ticked off by her presence in the slightest. If anything, you swore you could see the slightest hint of a smile tug at his lips. (However, if you could read his mind, you’d find that he was actually imagining what it would be like if he could make her explode solely using the powers of his mind. That’s how bugged he was. But alas, your delusions always seem to get the best of you.)
Why on Teyvat was this random girl from the Akedimiya able to hold casual conversation with him, of all people? Seriously, her and not you? You’re the one who knows everything about him, you’re the one who’s seen him at his worst, the one who knows his past, and everything he’s become because of it. All of this and yet, you still can’t bring yourself to just fucking talk to him anymore.
You’re so in love with him it physically hurts. The feeling wraps itself around your very heart, beating frantically, with searing hot metal wires and won’t let it breathe for even a second. What’s the reason? You’re not even sure. He’s an asshole. He’s a loner. He’s a Harbinger. You pause, realizing the path your thoughts have taken. Was a Harbinger, actually.
Oh yeah.
That’s why you love him.
Because he’s changed. Despite his pain and sorrows, despite all of the betrayals and all of those people he’s hurt in turn, that’s not who he is anymore. It’s not who he wants to be. You can see it in the way he smiles when he doesn’t think anyone’s watching. And not the sadistic little smirk he usually shows, no, but a genuine smile that rests upon his lips as he watches the children laugh and chase after each other along the streets during midday. And oh, how you wish he’d smile at you like that! But here you are, witnessing him as he gives that very same smile to the beautiful brunette Akademiya girl at his side. (He absolutely was not smiling.)
But you suppose it does make a bit of sense, doesn’t it? He couldn’t possibly have any interest in you, you who’s certain to hate him for everything he’s done. You, who’s seen what he was like at his utmost vulnerable. He couldn’t love someone who could use that to their advantage. He wants a fresh start, doesn’t he? And wouldn’t that include meeting brand new people who only know him for the self he presents for them, and not the bloodthirsty, heart-stricken puppet of the past? What if, what if it truly wasn’t meant to be? What if despite all the love you harbored, even if it was so much it was spilling out the cracks of your very soul, he wouldn’t be able to notice? What if his own heart was breaking out of its protective shell and reaching out to someone new? What if that someone new was the girl currently at his side right now? (Oh boy, calm down, will you? You’re getting ahead of yourself here. You don’t even have any idea what they’re talking about.)
Watching them walk together, you just can’t bring yourself to walk up to him anymore. All of that previously collected, albeit false confidence, vanished in an instant. And so, with a confused, dazed, and lovesick heart, you turn around and walk away in the opposite direction. You were so certain he could be the one. What if you truly couldn’t have him? You supposed, for a moment, it would be the same thing as death. There wouldn’t be much of a difference, would there?. That’s where you catch yourself. A bit much, isn’t it? Not death, you reason, but definitely something very painful. What happened to the composure you usually held? All down the drain now, it seems. Your eyes well up in tears, even though a part of you knows you shouldn’t be reacting this way. The sun blazes against your shoulders, almost mockingly, against your delusional, lovesick, and oh so very down bad self, as you make your way down the paved steps from the Akademiya.
——————————————————————
“A partner project? You can’t be serious. Please, remind me, how would putting me in this situation be beneficial to either of us?” Asks a very vexed Wanderer, standing before the god of wisdom herself in the middle of the Sanctuary of Surasthana, only a few hours prior.
“I hardly see you interacting with other people. Aside from me, of course! I truly believe that expanding your horizons to new relationships could help you to open your mind! Don’t tell me you really have no interest in making friends?” Nahida chirps, hopping down from her platform. A swing made from vines of dendro energy, dissipates into the air at her absence.
“I fail to see how writing an argumentative essay alongside another person is a friendship-making strategy.” He retorts back, crossing his arms.
“How can you know if you never try? I’m not saying you have to be lifelong friends with your partner, but you should get to know your peers. Nearly the entirety of the Akademiya is dying to get to know you!”
“Just because I’ve acquired a group of crazed fans does not mean I have to entertain them. And especially not because you think I need friends.” That last word lingers on his tongue. Friends. Speaking of, didn’t you once say you considered him a friend? Despite his words, the thought doesn’t make him as sick as he thought it would. Not really sick at all, actually.
“Won’t you try it, just once? If not for you, then for me?” She pleads. How odd to have a god ask you for something, he thinks. Although, considering his relationship to Nahida, it’s really not all that strange.
“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want.” She replies, giggling proudly.
And so, with a huff and a sigh of indignation, Wanderer agrees with much trepidation to go along with Nahida’s odd little plan of a partner project. So long as he gets it over with quickly, it can’t be too bad. And maybe if he finishes in time, he’ll be able to see you again. It has been quite some time. And although he tells himself he doesn’t really want to see you, he’s beginning to realize that statement probably isn’t true.
Just a little bit.
Definitely not.
You’ll figure it out one day, just wait and see.
#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x reader#kabukimono x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin fic#the tortured poets department#down bad#you’re all a bunch of simps aren’t you#it’s ok tho!! no shame in it#Spotify
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18 + swaymark!!
oooo thank you!!
#18 - pleaser, wallows + swaymark
okay i know they are canonically obsessed with each other but. the song is in some ways about feeling like you’re failing in your relationship and being not quite as obsessed with them as they maybe are with you, and in this video of them talking about being a tandem, there is the slightest pause before swayman answers “do you miss him?” that makes me want to probe a wound. we’re not talking irl reasons of how that’s an absurd question (how do you miss him. you’re coworkers you’re seeing each other all the time) we’re talking that maybe this whole goalies-in-love thing got blown out of proportion and now swayman’s having to buy into the bit too hard. linus loves it & everyone’s asking about their bromance & how they love each other so much and the thing is—linus is safe. he’s got a wife and plausible deniability and jeremy? jeremy is gay. sure, he can crack jokes and people-please but the more people ask the more they're going to find out until maybe they find out something jeremy doesn't want them to know. and the longer this goes on, the more jeremy has to sit at linus' dinner table with linus and his beautiful wife and pretend like he isn't a little bit in love with him. and you know what? the longer it goes on and linus doesn't dial it down jeremy does stop being in love with him, because it just feels cruel, until he finally is done enough that he stops biting his tongue and ruins the moment.
#…this so is not a five sentence summary but ALSO this manages to perfectly align with something i was obsessed with (that media video)#like yeah is that pause reasonably a buffering time to a weird question? yes!!! do i want to read into it & make swayman a bit uncomfortabl#also yes!!! sorry i decided to give them tragique but they were assigned by spotify. the other option for this song was an ED fix-it fic#about healthy sex and learning that it can be a part of a normal relationship!! sex is weird and fucked up!! but like. that’s just because#i have always interpreted this song as a) unrequited best friend love & you’re worried you’re gonna fuck it up b) virgin who doesn’t know#what sex is and is scared to tell anyone and then option c) people pleaser keeps going along with it but can’t anymore#also OBVIOUSLY they end up fine. whether that ends up being jeremy finally telling linus (oblivious) i don’t want to do this with you#i need to get over you & them creating a platonic space & sway ends up with someone else OR linus has the oh. true. i simply never#considered that i could be gay for you option OR the one i have just invented but is now my favorite because i love a good polycule is that#linus & his wife simply add jeremy to their relationship. and then this song becomes jeremy scared to have sex with linus’ wife at first lo#liv in the replies#the interviews in that video doing the lord’s work fr but also that ‘do you not miss him’ feels SO uncomfortable. say no! but then he leans#in with the dirty jokes comment & i know i’ve made like eight variations already (sorry. that’s how my brain works) but it is soooo fun#to me personally if they are broken up but now have to act nice & keep doing all these rituals & sell us on the narrative & they’re just#trying to see who’s going to crack first. needle each other into laughing or getting irritated enough it shows through & the other one wins#do even more aggressive hug rituals!! get a medical warning from the athletic training staff!!!
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Finally bought a tonsil stone camera maybe I’ll stop being insane over it
uh tags are probably tmi
#talking talk talk#I’m dxd crazy before any of u say anything it’s my slur bitches#also I’ve literally been obsessing over it the way I used to obsess over other shit like the police are after me#now it’s. my tonsils are going to kill me if I don’t clean them perfectly#maybe I should worry more about the growth on my fucking cervix but do I look like I give a fuck about that shit it’s been years and hasn’t#grown I’m probably fine#gyn said it was probably fine#I’m fine
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Suit Up
Summary: Miguel craves to mark you as his, but he’ll have to start slow… so he offers to build you a custom suit. For now.
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed Miguel. Innocent and inexperienced reader. Pining. Sexual tension and frustration. Masturbation. Breeding kink.
* ˚ ✦ Part 1 (you don’t have to read it to enjoy this one)
Miguel had decided he was going to build you a suit.
Not just a regular one, but an extension of his own.
He craved to have you for himself, and to have others know that. But he’d have to play his cards right. This level of obsession could easily scare someone off at first.
Especially you.
His sweet, sweet girl.
So he settled for this: building you a custom digital suit to match his.
Slowly, but surely you’d start to connect yourself to him more often.
Or so he hoped.
He found you in his lab early in the morning, sitting by the desk while taking your sweet time with a slice of watermelon.
“Good morning.”
As expected, you jolted in your seat, turning to face him.
A few droplets of juice dribbled down from your lips and chin, and eventually landing on your shirt.
You offered him a messy grin, bits of watermelon all over your teeth, but the absolute innocence of that action tore straight down to his cock.
“Oh! Miguel, hi! Sorry—” your voice came out slightly muffled, as you placed the half moon slice on a plate. “This watermelon is so sweet! Want a taste?”
His brow furrowed and he halted right in front of you. “There’s…” his voice trailed off, eyes fixed on your chin.
You immediately picked up on the implication and wiped the sugary liquid from your skin with a napkin, bringing a few fingers to your lips as well.
Miguel cursed inwardly and wondered if you were truly unaware of how suggestive all of this looked.
He slapped that thought away. No. You were too innocent for that. Your words and actions held no second meaning.
You were genuinely so fucking clueless that it only served to fuel his obsession with you.
His cock gave him a warning twitch.
He was all too familiar with those by now.
Would you be this messy while sucking him off? Would you not be able to keep it all in and eventually swallow?
He’d be fine with you not swallowing it all at first. After all, he did cum a lot. It would probably be overwhelming for someone as innocent and inexperienced as you.
“Miguel?”
Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts at once. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry for making a mess,” you said, hurriedly cleaning the desk.
There was no doubt you’d be the death of him.
Apologising for making a mess…
“Don’t worry about that,” he managed to say flatly. “I’m sure it tasted really good.”
You then smiled once more and let out a cock-twitching groan. “Oh, yes! But… why did you want me in here my casuals today?”
Right.
He moved to tap the hovering screens in front of him. “I was thinking you suit might need an upgrade.”
“What? But I built this one myself… what’s wrong with it?” you whined softly, sticking your bottom lip out.
His cock twitched again.
“I know, I know,” he reassured you with extreme ease. “But I’ve been working on a prototype of my digital suit and would like for you to test it out.”
A blatant lie.
He had just decided this the night before, after that post nut clarity had hit him hard.
How else would he mark you without you even realising?
You blinked a few times, having to tilt your head up to stare at him, and it was enough to flare his imagination.
“Really?” the excitement in your voice was palpable and he felt a sudden rush of satisfaction. “That… that would be an honour, Miguel!”
His fingers tapped through multiple files. “You’ve been helping me out a lot in the lab lately. It’s only fair that I show my appreciation.”
Your gaze wavered momentarily, broken by his genuine praise, and Miguel nearlt bit his lip from this sight alone.
“I do it willingly, Miguel. I love learning new things from you,” your eyes were back on his, and you were bearing a warm smile. “You’re a great teacher!”
He tried hard to tear his gaze away from your lips, and offered a mere nod.
You deserved more than a nod.
And your eagerness to learn from him made him feel swollen with pride. An ego booster.
It was quite addicting.
He’d teach you so much more if you’d let him. He’d teach you how to embrace your pleasure and use it for him only. Oh, how he’d enjoy teaching you how to suck his cock, or how to use your words to turn him on.
Fuck.
He would teach you all he knew.
You’d have all of him.
But he wanted you to want him the way he wanted you. No. He needed you to need him. To crave and yearn and feel the unfair ropes of despair tighten around you.
“I’ll just need your measurements,” he said, fetching a couple of measuring bands from a top shelf. “These will measure every tiny detail, so the fit is as suitable as possible.”
You nodded eagerly, lips slightly parted. He moved to grab each wrist, closing the metallic band around each wrist.
“Feet up,” he asked, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his true feelings.
You lifted one leg after the other, and he carefully clasped them around your ankles, the feel of your warm skin and proximity nearly having him bite his own lip.
“Wait, do I have be naked?”
The question caught him completely off guard and he straightened up at once. “What?”
Miguel felt more blood rushing downwards and was grateful his own suit was able to keep most of his strained erection from sight.
You broke into a nervous laugh. “Oh — I mean… you’re naked under your suit, right?”
He nodded. “Your suit becomes an extension of yourself and it should feel like a second layer of skin,” he added, extending one arm out, and allowed you to see the digital layer of fabric quickly retracting from the tips of his fingers all the way down his naked torso.
The reaction was immediate.
Your eyes landed on him for only a split second, before looking away.
For the second time that day, Miguel’s ego soared to incredibly dangerous heights.
You looked so innocent and sheepish, not daring to gaze at his incredible physique once again.
He wouldn’t hold that against you, though. You’d have plenty of time to gawk at his body once he managed to break into your mind, and make you his.
“It feels more comfortable this way,” he added reassuringly, as his suit promptly covered his exposed skin once again.
You turned to look at him again. “Oh! So I don’t actually have to be naked,” you giggled in relief.
“No,” Not for this, he wanted to add.
The height difference was starting to take a toll on his ability to focus. Having you sitting on that chair, perfectly levelled to engange in a more suggestive scenario, was enough to feel the blood boil in his veins.
He needed more.
He needed to touch you.
“Let’s boot the measuring analysis program,” Miguel took your hand in his and helped you on your feet. “I need you to stand still.”
He needed so much more than that from you, but he’d have to settle for silent agony for now.
You were visibly excited, barely able to contain yourself as a smile settled on your face, and he felt the sudden urge to praise you for being so eager and such a tease.
He tapped a few commands on his watch, and came to stand behind you, careful not to stand too close, or you’d notice his hard cock.
“Do you trust me?”
You shouldn’t…
You turned your head to the side to look into his crimson eyes, confusion twisting your face. “Of course I do, Miguel.”
… because he wouldn’t.
He rolled his fingers along the hem of your shirt, slowly rolling it upwards. His heart went into overdrive instantly and he could feel the first droplets of precum dripping down his cock.
You flinched once his knuckles brushed against your skin.
“Are you okay?” he asked, halting at once.
You nodded and giggled lighty. “That tickles.”
His sweet girl…
How was he supposed to endure burying himself inside you inch by inch when he couldn’t barely keep his composure now?
Once the shirt was resting under your breasts, he moved one hand to grip it gently from behind, effectively tightening the fabric flat over you. From where he stood, he could see your bra’s outline and how your breasts heaved with each breath you took.
This was driving him mad.
Your cleavage was so inviting and he had to take a step back, ensuring his erection wouldn’t accidentally brush against your ass.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take this off?” you asked.
You were so fucking sweet and innocent, and he wanted nothing more than to rip all of your clothes apart.
“Just let the program scan your body,” he said, voice strained and breath coming out in shallow pants. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yes,” you immediately replied.
Such a good girl for him… his sweet girl…
He would want to ask that same question the day he got to teach you how to suck his cock.
You’d struggle at first.
But he’d be patient.
He’d probably need to come up with a serum to inject himself with to keep from exploding right away, and he couldn’t have that.
You would need proper guidance, wouldn’t you? How he’d love to have you on your knees, mouth dropped open and receptive.
His other hand was now pressed flat against your tummy and he nearly bucked his hips in response.
Careful, Miguel, he scolded himself.
Was this too much?
In reality, he didn’t need to be doing any of this for measurements, but he couldn’t help himself.
He needed you closer.
He needed to feel you shudder against his touch.
He needed you to need him.
You gasped softly once he started to moved his hand down ever so slightly, fingers nearly touching the waisgband of your pants.
“Ticklish?” he asked in a low voice.
You hummed, bucking your hips into him with a faint giggle, and he felt his cock into contact with your ass.
Oh, fuck.
He had to let go of you right away, flinching back.
You turned to eye him, worry plastered all of your face. “Did I hurt you?”
“No!” he said right away, more precum droplets spilling out. “I think the analysis is complete,” he cleared his throat and turned his back to her, looking down to his bulge.
He wish he could set his cock free.
No.
He wish you would offer to set his cock free.
He wanted you to know and see how much his body craved yours.
“Miguel, are you okay?” you asked tenderly, moving to stand by his side, brushing his tense bicep. “We can finish this some other time.”
Was it really possible for someone to be this clueless? Was your inexperience that blinding? Hadn’t you felt his erection?
Against his will, he nodded.
He needed you gone right away.
He had to get off urgently.
“You’re overworking yourself again…”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
How he’d love to make you his and have you take care of him.
Your hand squeezed his muscles gently. “Is there anything I can do?”
Please, touch me… “No. I’ll just finish the suit and have you test it out soon.”
Your hand dropped.
Maybe if he asked you to let him fuck your hand, you’d let him. Maybe.
He’d settle for you watching him jerk off to you, at this point.
“Can I pick the colours?” you then beamed, glancing up at the orange screens. “Can I? Please?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay!” you chirped happily, swiping across the customisation menu on the screen.
Miguel paced quickly into a storage room to his left, groaning into the back of his hand.
In no time, he had the front part of his lower half of his suit vanish, cock springing free, fully coated with precum.
He let out a strained and breathy sigh of absolute relief.
“Ay, Miguel…” he muttered to himself, realising just how badly this obsession had gotten.
His cock twitched, sending strand of precum to dangle from the tip.
From this angle, he could see your back, shirt still nicely tucked under your breasts, revealing so much of your skin to him.
That would do.
For now.
Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he set a slow pace at first, testing out his limit.
Dangerously close.
It was unfair that you were so close, yet so far. You were completely unaware of your effect on him.
Faint anger took over him.
You should be the one to bring him relief.
This was all on you… his sweet, innocent, inexperienced girl.
The pace quickened and he felt his fangs extending in anticipation.
You were bending over the desk, lifting your ass just enough for his mind to have imagining himself ramming into your from the back.
You’d love that position. Maybe not at first, but he’d teach you to enjoy thoroughly.
Being rawed and bred. You’d be a loving mother, wouldn’t you? You’d let him breed you over and over again, because you were just nice like that.
So eager to please.
He wished you’d bend over a little more, so he could fully immerse himself in his lust.
Feeling one fang dig into his lower lip, Miguel wondered how long it would take to draw blood, considering how hard it was for him to suppress his groans.
He couldn’t tear his eyes from you and his desire nearly pained him, because his hand would never be as tight as you, and it would never feel like you.
But he had to get rid of this now.
He had to complete your suit and mark you as his.
Everyone in Nueva York and across other universes would know you were his.
They would know not to cross you, for his wrath would be unmatched.
The sweet tingles of an orgasm soon engulfed him whole, and he threw his head back and fluttered his eyes shut, relying on his mind to keep your alive as he fucked himself for you.
Just you.
His sweet girl.
Just his.
He squeezed the first spurts of warm cum with his fingers, allowing himself go roll his hips in a broken rhythm.
The metallic taste of blood pooled in his tongue and he knew his fang has dug too deep, but he didn’t care.
He would break himself for you.
And you would, too.
You just didn’t know it yet.
Part 3
Masterlist
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara#miguel ohara x fem!reader#miguel ohara x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel x reader
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˗ˏ` EMOTIONS! 🍵 ´ˎ˗
pairing. theodore nott x reader
summary. theo never handled his emotions right, and when his girlfriend shows up in a wrong moment, things escalate and theodore doesn’t know how to fix it.
THEO HAS BEEN A TICKING BOMB LATELY and you knew that. it’s been bothering you, but every time you tried talking some senses into him, he brushed it all off, saying something too stupid and reckless for you to hear, so the topic was dropped sooner than it was brought up.
it was one of those times again, when a recurring thought was planted into your brain that you didn’t know your boyfriend like you thought you would. theodore hasn’t been himself lately, which made you worry tons. he’s been smoking much more and getting into fights more often as well as getting into trouble with the teachers, losing the points for your house, which… well, you didn’t care that much about it. what you cared for was theo’s wellbeing.
since it’s been a christmas break, you had gone home to spend time with your family, which meant your contant with theo was limited to a few letters that he was doing somewhat fine, yet you’ve been smart enough to know that spending christmas with his father and grandfather could never make him feel fine, not even a little bit. it was the breaking point in you that you’ve decided it’s the end of brushing you off.
“riddle, berkshire – out.” you barged into the dorm, glaring at your boyfriend’s dormmates, causing the first one to groan in annoyance.
“jesus, can’t be in your own room anymore.” mattheo rolled his eyes at you, yet he knew it was coming, so he dragged his ass up, patting theo’s back. “good luck with that one, nott.” he muttered before leaving the room with lorenzo, who just sent you a sympathetic smile.
theo, on the other hand, just glanced at you for a second, knitting his eyebrows together. “what do you want, l/n?” he asked, his nose still burried in between pages of a book you gave him for christmas.
“oh, last name basis, al–fucking–right.” you grumbled, grabbing the book away from his hands, your body trembling with fury. you hadn’t had a proper conversation in over two weeks, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be a decent man towards you. “what’s going on with you, nott?”
“get off my dick, y/n, really.” he rolled his eyes, expression matching the one his roommate had a few moments earlier. “i don’t have fucking time for this shit.” theo added, clearly agitated.
“well, you want it — you have it, i’m not getting on your dick anytime soon.” your voice was thick with emotion as the mention of celibacy earning you a look. “i know something’s going on. i know that, because i’m your girlfriend and i care about you. just trust–” you started, but the sentence wasn’t meant to be finished, because nott cut you off.
“then don’t. merlin, i don’t need a fucking babysitter, hoovering over my ass all the time. you’re not my bloody therapist, l/n. i don’t fucking need you to stick your nose into my business 24/7.” theodore stood up, his nose almost brushing yours before you took a step back, startled at the sudden outburst. “and sex? don’t amuse me, for merlin’s sake. i could leave the dorm right now and find someone to bone if i wanted to.” his tone was harsh, while his words were like knives thrown at you as a reward for being a caring girlfriend.
your boyfriend looked at his knuckles, his gaze focusing on the ring as he begun to take it off, making your pupils widen. “go. give it to someone who’s gonna be crazy enough to put up with your obsession about emotions. i’m not doing that anymore.” he muttered, pushing the ring into your palm.
“fine.” was the only thing that came to your mind after his words. your body continued to tremble and at this point, you couldn’t have been sure if it was your annoyance or broken heart that he just broke up with you. “just keep your promise and stay away from me. maybe join the death eaters too, for all i care, you’ll fit in perfectly.” with that, you left his dorm, slamming the door behind you as you fought with tears flowing down your cheeks.
“troubles in paradise?” mattheo grinned at you playfully, not noticing your tears-stained face as you were storming through the common room to the exit of the room.
“go fuck yourself, riddle.”
it wasn’t even five minutes later, when mattheo entered his shared dorm, his expression utterly confused as his mind was doing its best to connect the dots. “what’s with that gal of yours?” he asked theo, plopping down onto his bed, lightning up a cigarette right after.
“she’s not my gal anymore.” nott mumbled in response, almost untouched by the entire thing that just happened and that took his best friend by surprise.
“what do you mean she’s not your gal anymore?” he asked, his frown deepening. “lad, don’t tell me she broke up with you, you love this girl to death.” riddle added, scanning his friend’s face for any sign of uneasiness or a clue to understand all of it.
“i broke up with her.” theo replied with a shrug.
“merlin, man, why?” mattheo asked another question, this time being left without an answer as nott shut the curtains of his bed, putting on a silence spell.
IGNORING THEODORE ALL WEEK HAS BEEN EASY as you weren’t in the same year as him. you’ve been grovelling inside about the break-up, but from what your mother had always told you, when you were younger, you remembered that all the teenage boys were shitty and you couldn’t — by any means — let him know how much hurt you were. ignoring him was easy, all because, in your eyes, he didn’t even take any effort to show you remorse for what happened, from what you’ve known, he didn’t even look at you once.
the worst part of loving theodore nott was not being able to brush off all the concerns and worries that lived rent free in your mind, whenever you’ve noticed him walking through the hallways. nevertheless, he didn’t want you to care about him at all, so that was what you were planning on doing. kept your head high and your feet steady on the ground.
what you didn’t know, was that it wasn’t pride that made him keep his eyes away from you, but guilt. from the moment he woke up the day following your argument, his organism was flooded with guilt and shame to the point, where he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.
he fucked everything up just like his father always told him that he would. he broke the promise he’d made to himself that he wouldn’t drive you away, wouldn’t hurt you like his father hurt his mom, yet he did. you were the only person in his world that made him feel like a normal human being, one, who could love and be loved, but he had to ruin it all, because his pride wouldn’t let him to open up to you.
it’s been already a week since the biggest mistake of his life, as he called it, and theo’s entire body hurt. he was popping pills with blaise like candies, because sobriety and consciousness made everything worse. he couldn’t stop thinking about you — about your expression, when he broke things off with you, the hurt in your eyes and the way you were holding yourself after that.
people, not close enough to you, might’ve been fooled by the facade you’ve built around you, though not theo. he’d known you for years prior to your relationship, he’d seen you both happy and miserable and now? now, you were beyond miserable. you might’ve kept your head high with the biggest smile on your face, but he’s known. he always would — whether you wanted him to or not.
quidditch practices were the worst, all because you were always there, yet never watching him. it wasn’t even up to you to be there and theo was certain of it. you were there, so your best friend wouldn’t have to sit through an entire practice alone, while she watched lorenzo with starstruck expression all the fucking time.
“lad, you have to apologise to her, sort it out.” enzo sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “aoife’s worried about her. ‘m not really surprised, though, she started smoking weed on daily-basis again. aoif’s saying she can’t remember, when she saw her sober for the last time, but it’s better than bawling her eyes out over some asshole, aoif’s words, not mine.” having a friend, who was also somehow close to you and your best friend was a blessing in disguise. lorenzo kept him updated, not leaving out all the insults aoife lynch threw at him for breaking her best friend’s heart.
a loud sigh left theo’s lips as he leaned over the table, his forehead falling onto the wooden surface as he let out a groan. “i don’t even know what to do, enzo.”
“my suggestion? get your shit together.” mattheo chimed in, a playful grin on his face. “i mean it, theo. the gal of yours keeps showing up to my spot and i can’t deal with her tears anymore. get your shit together and fix it.”
“the problem is, matt, i don’t know how.”
the opportunity, although being totally… stupid, occurred at the end of another week during a game with hufflepuffs. theo’s entered another stage of grief and has been going around the school angry at everything. so, when the game came, he was playing rougher than usually, because he needed an outlet to the built-up anger.
of course, you’ve noticed. how couldn’t you? you’ve been keeping an eye on him for the entire two weeks. despite your promise to aoife, you couldn’t let it go. no matter who he was, your boyfriend, a friend, a stranger or an enemy, you couldn’t stop worrying about him and doing your best to look out for him. so… when he was forcefully pushed off his broom by diggory, you were running down the stairs before he even hit the ground. you needed to be beside him or it would kill you.
he was unconcious for almost two more days, making it a sixteen days without hearing his voice and you were going crazy, spending every single second, occupying the tabletop placed next to his bed. his hands in between yours as you kept it close to you. did he deeply pained you with his words? yes. would you let him be alone in the hospital wing? of course not.
“y/n/n.” he whispered suddenly, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.” nott let out and you weren’t sure if it was some kind of sleep talking or your delusions leading you on. “i’m so sorry, baby.” he repeated his words with a term of endearment, squeezing your hand weakly.
“theodore…” your words hitched in your throat as you moved the hair aside from his forehead. “don’t think about it now.” you whispered in a coy manner. “it doesn’t matter.”
“i can’t.” he coughed out. “i can’t stop thinking about it. about you. i’ve acted like a dick, but i didn’t mean it. you’re my world, baby, i’m so, so sorry. you were right all this time, i build up my emotions inside of me and let it get the best of me in the worst moment. i’m so sorry i hurt you, i swear i hate myself for—” he continued his rambling, slowly opening his eyes to have a look at you.
“hey, teddy, please, don’t think about it now.” you pleaded, still holding his hand. your thumb caressing his palm. “just rest, okay? please. we’ll talk about once you’re well-rested and out of here.” your voice was gentle.
he shifted in his hospital bed, hissing as his ribcage hurt immensely. “no, cara, please.” he muttered, bringing his lips to your palm. “listen, i can’t get over what i told you. i’m so fucking sorry, baby.” he whispered.
“teddy…” you started, but he cut you off.
“no. i’m sorry i said all those things to you, you didn’t deserve all the shit i gave you.” he let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “you need to hit me. for all the pain and suffering. oh god, and the tears. you should just kill me at this point.” theo muttered, and honestly? he did deserve the beating for what he’s done, but the three days of unconsciousness due being knocked off the broom, you could let it go. it could be his fate share of beating.
“just shut up, will you?” you sighed, planting a tender kiss on his lips. “we’re fine.”
#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#niki’s works 🫂#theo nott smut#theo nott rec#theo nott fic#theodore nott x oc#theo nott headcanons#theodore nott headcanons#theodore nott smut#theodore nott fic#theodore nott#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader
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Best friend's brother: Chan x reader
Thinking about best friend's brother Chan that has always been secretly obsessed with you
Content: extremely fluffy, slight hurt/comfort, smut, really vanilla smut but super sweet
Warnings: Oral sex (f! receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex
WC: 2000
Obviously, you and your best friend were inseparable. You grew up right next door, and her parents considered you to be another one of their children. You and Hannah were, for lack of a better word, siblings. Her older brother, however… that was a situation that you weren’t sure how to explain.
You had always harbored feelings for the older man, despite the guilt that ate away at you. You could never tell Hannah that, however. Nor would you ever tell Chan or let your desires come to fruition.
Which is why, once you came home for summer break you had no problem getting ready for your date at Hannah’s house. Though the thought of her brother being there made you gulp, you would just have to hope you wouldn’t run into him and everything would be fine–
“What’s got you dressed all up?” Of course, Chan appears from behind and makes eye contact with your reflection in the mirror. Hannah is sprawled across her bed and scrolling through her phone.
“She’s got a hot date,” Hannah replies, snarkily.
“Hot date?” Chan inquires while crossing his arms. He holds a slightly disapproving glare.
“Yeah, with some guy she met online. He’s a real smokeshow–”
“Hannah!” You say sharply, willing your best friend to somehow spare you the humility.
“Where is he taking you, hm?” Chan says with a small, teasing lilt to his voice.
“We’re going to a club…,” you whisper.
“On the first date? No no no, that’s just a recipe for disaster, Y/N.”
“It’ll be fine, Chan!” Hannah says. She doesn’t even bother to look him in the eye, so he bores holes into your own instead. He mutters out something about how he doesn’t like this and that you should really be careful before returning to his room.
As you finish getting ready, you admire yourself in the mirror. Your black dress hugs your body just right, and your makeup brings out just the right contrast to your face. Hannah says out loud exactly what you were thinking:
“You look hot.”
As you share your location with her and get ready to leave the house, it is almost 9 p.m. and your uber has arrived. Though you know the night will most likely not end up with you falling head over heels in love, you’re still hoping to have a good time and maybe get to know the guy more. However, before you step out the door you feel a hand grab your wrist.
Chan is looking at you with a look you don’t recognize in his eye and you pause, waiting for him to speak.
“Please, be careful. If anything happens, you have my number. I don’t care what time it is, you can reach out. It doesn’t matter if he’s being a creep or if you just don’t want to be there anymore, I will come and get you,” he says. He looks at you softly before adding, “And even if you don’t need me to get you, please text me when you’re home safe.” You could tell he was genuinely worried and this made your heart pang slightly, making it harder to will away the crush you have on the man.
Your date shows up late, for starters. After twenty minutes you take your first shot, and your second drink arrives when your date does. He is unapologetic and starts touching you the second he sees you–that’s when you realize he is already wasted. Letting out a groan, you humor him with one dance, but when he immediately starts grinding on you you decide you have had enough.
“I’m not really feeling it,” you say. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
The man scoffs and immediately becomes defensive. “C’mon darling, you’re not going to show up looking like that and then act like a prude, are you?” He spits out some more mean insults that you don’t hear, because you’re already out the door and dialing Chan’s number.
He picks up on the first ring.
“Are you okay–”
“I’m fine, can you please come and get me?”
“I walked out the door the second I saw your name flash on my screen,” he says. You hear his engine start and know he is telling the truth.
It’s cold outside, but Chan has the heat pumping in his car when he pulls up. You curl into yourself, feeling embarrassed at the situation you’ve found yourself in. The ride is silent, though it doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s playing your favorite music.
When he pulls up to your driveway, he puts his car into park.
You start talking before he says anything, even though you know he wasn’t going to force you.
“He showed up completely trashed and started touching me before I even really talked to him,” you said. Tears start streaming down your face and you hope that Chan won’t notice, but of course he does. He always does. He leans over the center console to wipe a tear away.
“He showed up drunk? Oh, I’m so sorry… you don’t deserve that,” he says. “I knew it was a bad idea.”
You know he’s trying to console you but you feel so defeated. “Why is it such a bad idea for me to want to go out and have fun?” You practically cry out. “Why does everybody else get to have a normal dating life and get to hook up with people and enjoy college, but when I try to do it it never works out?” Chan just nods along to your words.
“You just haven’t tried with the right person yet, Y/N…”
“There will never be a right person, because the one I want is you and that’s never going to happen!” You slap a hand over your mouth and stiffen when you realize what you had said, and when you meet Chan’s gaze you see that he’s staring at you with wide eyes. You’re completely sober now.
You are out of the car lightning fast, slamming the door behind you and racing to your house. You’re fully sobbing now as you unlock your door, but when you go to slam it behind you Chan sticks his foot in, holding it open. He uses the opportunity to invite himself in and immediately you’re in his arms, in a warm embrace.
“I’m sorry,” you say against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it, I–”
“Don’t say that,” he warns. “Don’t you dare take it back.”
“Chan, I–” He pulls you away to meet your gaze, placing his hands around your face and using both his thumbs to wipe your tears away.
“Y/N, I have known you for as long as I’ve remembered and I’ve never seen a part of you that I hate,” he says. “I have fallen deeper and deeper in love with you every day, so to hear you say that… Please don’t take it back. Please don’t tell me that you don’t want this,” he trails off, his eyes darting to your lips.
You crash your lips into his at full force and breathe against him, completely enamored. He picks you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist and carries you to your room, the one he had been in more times than you could count, all while keeping his lips locked against yours. He drops you onto your bed with a flop and you bounce, observing his admiring gaze. His lips are on you again, then they trail to your neck, leaving long burning kisses behind as he trails lower. His thumbs press into your waist.
“It made me sick,” he confesses. “The thought of you going to the club with some guy that was just going to use you. Some guy you had never met, someone who would never in a million years make you feel the way that I could.”
He drops to his knees at the edge of your bed, pulling you closer to his face by your hips. He pulls your legs apart, slotting his body in between them, and starts pressing soft kisses to your thighs. You watch his every move, your body relying on your elbows to keep you upright so you don’t miss a second of this.
“Say it again,” he pleads. “Tell me you want me, that you need me as bad as I need you.”
“Chan please,” you breathe out. “Wanted you for so long… Thought you’d never like me like that.”
“Are you kidding?” He chuckles. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Let me show you.” And with that, he lifts your dress up. It bunches against your waist messily and his nose presses into your clothed core. You groan out at the contact and he does as well, placing agonizingly slow kisses and licks against you. He grabs at your waistband and you lift your hips, allowing him to slide them off of your body. He wastes no time before diving back in and your head lolls back at the feeling.
“Look at me, please,” he begs. “Let me watch you fall apart.” Your eyes snap back to meet his gaze and you immediately feel so comforted and seen from his expression. It allows you to let yourself relax as he flicks and swirls his tongue around your clit.
He watches your every expression, every hitch of your breath and every buck of your hips, expertly making you fall apart on his tongue. One finger slides inside of your pussy, pumping in and out experimentally, and you feel yourself coming to your peak.
“God, Chan, please–”
“I gotcha, baby,” he says. “Come for me.” You fall apart for him completely knowing that he will be right there to put you back together, and he helps you ride out your high, observing the fucked-out look on your face as if it would be the only time he would ever see it.
You pant and reach for him and he interlocks his hand in yours, coming up to kiss you even more passionately than before. He presses his clothed bulge into your center and you hiss at the contact, still sensitive.
“Can I?” He asks.
“Please,” you respond. His pants are slid down and he pushes himself into you in a moment. You feel emotionally overwhelmed, looking down to see where you are completely and utterly connected. The way his breathing becomes shallow, you know he’s thinking the same thing.
He picks up one of your legs, wrapping around your shoulder and starts pistoning into you, and the change of angle makes you go utterly weak. Your back arches and his lips are against your skin, anywhere they get a chance to meet.
“All mine,” he grunts. His hips start slamming into yours faster, and one hand reaches up to cover your mouth, muffling any noises that might be starting to slip. “Say it… say you’re all mine and only I get to… fuck, see you like this.”
You can tell he’s close, and the hand that reaches down to start rubbing against your clit confirms your suspicions.
“Chan… so close… I’m all yours, Chan, please, please…” His name releases from your lips like a mantra, and as you feel yourself come to your high once again and clench around his length, he pulls you even closer, releasing himself into you.
Your arms wrap around him and your fingers run through his hair comfortingly as he collapses on top of you.
You and Chan have always been relatively close by association, particularly given the situation, but at the moment you and him are so intertwined you aren’t sure you can ever let go.
He holds you as you fall asleep that night.
“Do you think Hannah will be mad?” you ask.
“No way,” he mumbles against you. “She’s been trying to get us together for years.”
You laugh incredulously against the man. Though you weren’t expecting to find your true love that night, you guess life had other plans.
***
First real ff post on tumblr yay!! Welcome to my skz blog, I wanted to start off with something tame lol...I have a lot of really exciting things planned to post so stay tuned <3
Masterlist Recs
#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#bang chan smut#chan smut#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz x you#bang chan x you#stray kids x you#stray kids#skz#bang chan#chan#kpop#kpop smut#kpop x reader#smut
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Prompt 257
Now Danny loves space. He loves everything about it, to the point his core quite literally is space. And he’s also a baby ghost, even if he could argue he’s not in human form. But see, being baby has an honestly great consequence once it’s noticed- despite the Observants’ best attempts at hiding it, the assholes.
Of course he would be far more worried- and even a bit pissed- if his caretaker wasn’t who it was. Look, he’d never met Clockwork’s siblings before, but apparently everyone was really against Clockwork himself adopting.
But Clockwork as his uncle is fine. Besides, his caretaker is Space! Space itself is holding him, cooing gentle words in the sounds of the very cosmos. And they’re huge, like parts of their body going through portals so they can fit outside Long-Now sized big- and apparently Clockwork can get just as big and they can get even bigger-
Okay, he needs to take a breath- even if he doesn’t need to breathe- to stop his squealing because holy Realms this is so cool.
Space is awesome! And he’s getting so much more rest than he did in Amity- and even if Space sort of shrugged at the idea of school at first, they did help him set up online schooling. So there’s that, and it’s just the start!
He gets to learn so much about space and it’s honestly kind of… nice? To be taken care of? And he can do whatever he needs for his Core and Obsession with only a few interruptions to take care of his living needs. Erm, sort of living needs?
But even that gets turned into a bit of play or even a lesson too! He’s honestly having such a good time right now! He’s learning so much about spaaace! And dimensions! And interdimensional portals and- oops! No one saw that.
Ahem- But he’s learning so much about space and getting to explore other dimensions with Cosmos! And sure he no longer looks as human as he once did and all that, but he’s seen so many people who also don’t look human that does it really matter?
Of course it doesn’t, and he matches his sort-of-dad! Even though the streaks of color in their hair are more of a brown-red like they’re literally bleeding out the cosmos around them instead of it fading to void and space like his own. But still! They match and it’s fun!
And they’re going to go on another trip from the in-between to one of the dimension realities! He’s going to start a game of tag this time he thinks! But no cheating with portals or bending space! Tag!
Look, the Justice League? Not paid enough for this. In fact, technically not paid at all due to being volunteers (not that it stopped them from finding money in their accounts) but still.
There is some sort of figure… being… thing… zooming around the asteroid belt, about the size of Earth itself. Let them repeat themselves. A planet-sized creature (are those hands or paws? Tail or simply its body stretching? Hair or the Abyss-) is currently darting around the asteroid belt like a child running through grass.
That is, without noticing or caring if something bug-sized might be crushed. And they are very much bug sized, as the governments are concerned about. Like really concerned about. Like talking about trying to nuke the entity if it wanders closer sort of concerned.
Which they are all very concerned and very much like, against. Because it isn’t seeming to notice the asteroids it’s knocking into their area. It’s like… not a space whale or eel or anything like that but also is something like that.
And they would also maybe like to see if they can attempt to talk it down first maybe and-
oh.
Oh.
That creature is the baby. And mama just arrived, stretching across the entire galaxy, from them to Pluto and beyond, like something took the cosmos and shaped it like clay into some sort of form. Like reality itself has wandered into their galaxy with what they are suddenly realizing must be a very young child.
Shit, they really have to make sure no one tries to piss either of these things off-
#Prompts#DCxDP#DPxDC#Danny is like Lil Baby Man compared to Cosmos#But he’s the same size as the world too lol#Space Core Danny#Clockwork is a triplet lol#Clockwork Chaos & Cosmos the children of Infinity & Reality#Let Primordials & Ancients be Eldritch#Are those stars or eyes? Hair or strands of time? Clothes or the fabric of reality? Wound or black hole?#Danny: I am doin good at hidin- the best at hide and seek#Cosmos veery slowly floating after: Oh nooo where has my ghostling hid where could they have goone to *knows exactly where he is*#Can they *technically* go smaller? Yeah but they’re used to where All of Space-Dimension-Portals meets#Danny is Not ghost king he’s bby Space Ancient#Why were people against Clockwork adopting? He never finished divorcing Pariah before he got thrown in the nap box
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Stick Around
Oscar Piastri x bestfriend!reader
Masterlist
Summary: You’ve been searching for your soulmate your whole life. Maybe you’ve just been looking in the wrong place.
Word Count: 4.1k
Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, cheating/infidelity (not by a main character I promise) mild swearing, excessive use of italics
|Age 20|
“You can’t seriously still be reading that stuff,” Oscar says.
You peer at him over the top of your magazine.
“What stuff?” You ask, playing innocent.
“Your horoscope,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Haven’t you outgrown that yet?”
You shrug, directing your gaze back to the page in front of you. Today, you should avoid the color pink and embrace your skepticism. Oscar’s doing enough of the last part for the both of you. You could gain a great deal of information from social interactions. That’s helpful- you’ve been in search of some gossip. Your soulmate is just a click away- wait, no, that’s an ad. You huff and set the magazine down on the table. Oscar nods in agreement.
“I just think maybe it’s better to live your life without worrying about what the stars say,” Oscar says, waving his hands around in a way that you think is supposed to represent the stars. “Just, like… do what you want to do.”
“I do,” you mutter dryly. “Doesn’t hurt to have some advice, though.”
The two of you have always been like this. Oscar is a skeptic, you’re a believer. He calls it being easy to brainwash, says it in a teasing way that makes you glare at him every time. He’s taken it as his responsibility to keep you from falling for things. You’ve told him time and time again that you’re fine on your own. You just like the idea of predestiny, that what’s going to happen was always meant to.
Oscar is just worried you’ll join the first cult you cross paths with.
|Age 5|
It’s the day after you turn 5 when you first hear the word soulmate. Sol-meight. You sound it out through your lips, sticky with jam from your breakfast. Your best friend at the time, a girl whose name you’ve long since forgotten, had said it.
“S’when you’re meant to be,” she explains, in that all knowing tone that only little kids who know nothing at all seem to have. “Like, my mum and dad say they’re soulmates.”
Oscar, who’s sitting next to you, scoffs. “Everyone’s parents say that. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”
He’s taller than you, even sitting down, hair cut short after one of his sisters stuck gum in it a few days ago. His cheeks are rosy red, and there’s cream cheese on his nose. Years later, Oscar’s face will be one of the first ones you ever remember meeting. Right now, he’s just the boy in your class whose mother knows your mother, and because of that, he’s the boy who rides to school with you in the backseat. He’s not the worst, you guess. He’s… okay. Sort of just… always there.
“Is too!” Your friend says, shaking her head, pigtails bouncing. “Mum says there’s signs.”
“What kinda signs?” You ask, and Oscar turns to look at you in disbelief.
She shrugs. “Dunno. I’ll ask later.”
She comes back to the breakfast table the next day with a magazine page, torn haphazardly and slightly crumpled. On it is a list of signs someone could be your soulmate. The two of you pore over the page at every available opportunity for at least a week, barely able to read all the words.
Your friend forgets about soulmates a month later and moves on to an obsession with Barbie dolls. You carry the magazine page with you for years after that, until it’s worn and falling apart. Then you copy down the list into a safer place, worried you’ll lose it forever. 15 Signs He’s Your Soulmate, written with magic marker on pink construction paper and stowed away in your desk.
|Age 10|
“I hate olives,” you sneer, staring at the very last slice of pizza.
It’s a birthday party. You can’t for the life of you understand why there’s pizza with olives on it. Olives don’t belong on pizza- not much does, in your opinion. Just pepperoni, really. Maybe a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese, if you’re feeling fancy.
Katy, one of your classmates, is standing next to you. “I love olives. Here, I’ll pick them off for you and you can have the last slice.”
The pizza still tastes a bit like olives in the end, probably baked into the cheese, but it’s better than it would’ve been. Katy is your best friend after that. The two of you are inseparable from the moment you get to school until the moment you leave. You beg your mothers for sleepovers on the weekends, for day trips during holiday breaks. YouandKaty. Your names melt together until they become one.
Oscar still rides to school with you in the morning. Sometimes, Katy does too. Katy doesn’t like Oscar. She doesn’t like most boys, calls them gross. Since Katy thinks boys are gross, you do too.
“Be nice to Oscar,” your mother tells you one morning. “He’s not done anything to you.”
You’re in the backseat of the car, on the way to his house. “He’s a boy. Boys are gross.”
Your mother sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. She says your name sternly, and you shrink in your seat. When Oscar gets in, you say hello and force a smile.
Oscar’s the one who finds you crying on the playground. You thought you’d chosen a better hiding place, really- nobody had bugged you in your spot between the two large myrtle trees. But Oscar finds you anyways. You can’t even bring yourself to tell him to go away, too busy feeling sorry for yourself.
“Wha’s wrong?” He asks.
His cheeks are red- he’s likely been running around with the other boys. You shrug, pulling up another clump of grass and letting it fall from your fingers. Oscar sighs, scuffs his toe in the dirt.
“Katy doesn’t wanna be friends anymore,” you say, rubbing at your bare knee. “She says I’m not cool enough.”
Katy likes olives. You don’t. It’s on the soulmate list. You’re meant to be best friends.
Oscar’s quiet for a moment. Then- “That’s stupid. You’re like, the coolest person I know.”
You look up at him with wide eyes. “Shut up.”
“M’serious,” he says. He holds his hand out to you. “Wanna come play cricket with the gross boys?”
You take his hand, wipe your tears with your other hand. “Yeah. I do.”
|Age 12|
“Are you and Dad soulmates?” You ask your mother one morning, before you even leave the house.
She’s standing at the counter, a piece of toast in her hand, half eaten. Her coffee is half drank, too.
She tilts her head at you. “What do you mean, love?”
“Like, when you met, did you just know he was the one? Did it feel meant to be?”
She laughs. “Oh, god no. We were polar opposites. Barely spoke to each other for the first year after we met.”
You stare at her in surprise. “What changed?”
She sighs, wistfully, staring into her mug. “He asked me if I wanted an orange. I said yes. And when he handed it to me, he’d peeled it for me.”
You blink. “Because you hate peeling oranges.”
“I do,” she agrees. “Love isn’t just a feeling, it’s an action. I think love is more about the choices we make and the things we remember about each other than whatever is written in the stars, honey.”
|Age 15|
There’s a boy on the football team- Ryan. Ryan has dark, curly hair and long, long eyelashes and this smile that makes your heart melt and your brain all fuzzy. Ryan doesn’t like olives, either, but he has a birthmark on the back of his right hand in the shape of a lopsided heart, and if you squint hard enough, you have one that matches on the back of your left arm. You stare at in the mirror for hours after he points it out, his hand on your arm.
You stare at your lips in the mirror for hours, too, after he kisses you for the first time. You think maybe you look different. You must. You’d never been kissed before, but Ryan hadn’t minded.
You go on group dates with him, because you’re nervous and your parents think you’re a bit too young to really be dating. You go to the mall, the movies, the diner down the street from the school. It’s your first taste of freedom.
Oscar asks you if you really like Ryan, like- “like like him?”, one day when you’re sitting in his backyard. Your mothers are inside, drinking wine. His sisters are in the pool, you’re laying out in the sun. Oscar sits under an umbrella and squints at the brightness of the world around him.
“Yeah,” you say, in the same tone you’d say duh or of course. “I think he’s my soulmate.”
“Why’s that?” Oscar asks tilting his head.
“We have matching birthmarks,” you say, again, in the same tone.
Oscar forms his mouth into a little o shape. You squint at him, pushing yourself to sit up.
“Why’re you so worried about it, anyways?”
“M’not,” Oscar says, crossing his leg over his knee. “S’just. He’s kind of an arse, isn’t he?”
He whispers the curse word so his sisters won’t hear. Oscar’s big into karting and racing right now, and the older boys at the tracks swear like sailors. There’s a swear jar stuffed to the brim sitting on the kitchen counter inside, right next to the half empty wine bottle.
Ryan is a bit of an arse, you’ll admit. To almost everyone.
“He’s nice to me,” you shrug. “He brought me flowers, yesterday. Isn’t that what matters?”
Oscar shrugs. He doesn’t ask about Ryan again.
Oscar is the one who brings you flowers when Ryan cheats on you and the other girl tells the whole school. He brings them to your bedroom door and you let him in. He sits with you, even as you cry, the door open the parentally required six inches. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t tell you he warned you. He just stays.
When Oscar moves to England, you wave goodbye with a smile. Then you lock yourself in your room and bawl your eyes out for a week straight, harder than you ever did about Ryan.
|Age 18|
Your university roommate, Emma, was born on the same day as you, at the exact same time. Down to the minute. You find it out on your second day of living together. It’s fate, kismet, meant to be. The stars and planets were aligned exactly the same way when you both took your first breaths.
Oscar laughs when you tell him, though he does admit that it’s a pretty cool coincidence. You’re chatting with him on the phone, telling him about your first week of university. You talk a lot, despite the distance. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever.
You and Emma aren’t in any classes together- you have completely different majors. Despite this, you still become fast friends. You study together in your room and in the library, meet up for meals, and join a book club together. When Emma gets invited to her very first uni party, she brings you along with her. Your closets become shared.
You visit her family over the winter break for a week. She lives closer to the beach, and you love getting to soak up the sun with her and meet all the childhood friends you’ve heard stories about. Oscar comes home for his break and texts you, wondering when you’ll be back and if you’ll even have time for me, or are you too cool for me now?
You tackle him with a hug when you see him, standing at the kitchen counter in your house when you get there. He’s laughing and pushing you off of him, acting like he didn’t miss you just as much. You know he did. It’s written all over the smile on his face.
Emma visits your family later in the break, and that’s when you have your first fight.
“He’s definitely in love with you,” she insists from her spot on the air mattress on your floor.
She’s talking about Oscar, who she just met today. You’d brought her with to a barbecue at his family’s house. You’re regretting that choice. She’s spent all night afterwards pointing out all the signs that he’s in love with you- his hand on your shoulder, the look in his eyes, the way he smiled at you.
“He’s not,” you say, cheeks burning hot. “He’s- we’re friends.”
“Friends, right. Guys and girls can’t be just friends,” she says.
“Yes, they can!” You say indignantly.
Emma ignores you, rolls over, and goes to sleep. She leaves for home the next day- not earlier than she was supposed to, but it feels weird anyways. When you get back to campus, things feel different. You never really talk about the fight, though there wasn’t much to talk about, anyways. It’s not like she’s mean to you- the two of you still hang out, still see each other often. But Emma makes new friends, and you do too, and you stop doing everything together. It’s alright, you suppose, it’s just…
You were supposed to be destined to be friends. But soulmates shouldn’t be this easy to let go of. It’s written in the stars, it’s shouldn’t fade away like this.
Months ago, you and Emma had talked about spending the holiday break somewhere far away- somewhere tropical, exotic, so grown up and chic. But it hasn’t come up lately, and then she mentions a trip she’s taking with some friends from her classes. You book a flight to England instead and see Oscar in his new home for the first time.
You have new roommates next year. None of them have the same birthdate as you. You think that’s okay.
|Age 21|
There’s a stain on your dress, someone’s wine or sangria or cranberry juice that they’d been too clumsy with. You suppose it could be yours- you’re really not sure. It’s your fault for wearing such a light color to a club like this.
It’s your birthday. You’ve been able to drink for a few years, but it’s still your birthday, and for once, Oscar is there for it. Or really, you’re there for it, there being England. You’re on yet another trip to visit him, money saved and scraped together from your job on your breaks from school. Oscar helped pay for the plane ticket as a birthday present, and your parents got you a new luggage set to take along.
Oscar’s disappeared- at the bar, you remember, closing out his tab. You check your phone- 2:22 am. It’s really time you should be headed home-
You’re jostled from behind, and moments later, you feel cool liquid deep down your back. You turn, and there’s a guy standing there, sandy blonde hair and a terrified look on his face.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, British accent smoothing the words over. “I didn’t mean to-“
“S’okay,” you tell him, though you wrinkle your nose at the feeling of what was likely beer running down your back. “The dress was stained already.”
The man sighs. “It’s not okay- let me make it up to you. Can I buy you a drink?”
You frown. “I think I’m supposed to be leaving. My friend just went to pay.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.” The guy’s eyes light up, then. “Wait, how about I take you on a date?”
Your heart skips a beat in your chest. 2:22, you remember. Angel numbers. You are in the right place at the right time.
“I’m only here for a couple more days,” you say, cautiously.
“I’m free tomorrow if you are,” he suggest. “Well, more like later today, but-“
“Yeah, okay!” You’d at brightly, and hopefully not too eagerly. “I’m free.”
He’s holding out his phone for you to put your number in when Oscar pops up. He looks between the two of you with raised brows. “Everything alright?”
“He’s taking me on a date later today,” you explain, tapping the last number. “Because he spilled beer on my dress. Can you check if I put my number in right? My fingers aren’t working right.”
Oscar laughs, leans forward, and nods. “That’s right.”
You don’t remember getting back to Oscar’s apartment. You barely even remember the guy from the bar until Oscar brings it up that morning, a teasing tone in his voice. Suddenly you’re checking your phone every minute, looking for a text from him. You name him Angel Boy, mentioning the angel numbers you’d seen just before you bumped into him. Oscar, well versed in your obsession with things that are just meant to be, rolls his eyes affectionately.
When the sun is trending towards the horizon and Angel Boy still hasn’t called or even texted you, your mood sours. You plant yourself on the couch, an episode of some stupid reality show playing. You’re not paying attention, only staring at your phone.
By the time 7:00 rolls around, you know it’s a lost cause. You can hear Oscar in the other room, shuffling around, and you feel tears well up in your eyes. There’s got to be someone out there who’s actually meant to be yours, right? One of these times the signs will be right, and it’ll all work out. It’s just… you’re getting discouraged.
Oscar appears in front of you and slips your phone out of your hands. He shoves it into his own pocket. He hands you a jacket, one of his, and you stare up at him with wide eyes.
“I’m taking you out to dinner,” he says, as he reaches to brush the tears from your cheeks. “Just because he’s not going to text you, doesn’t mean you should just sit here all night.”
You could cry even harder at that, at the fact that Oscar cares enough to try and break you out of your moping. You don’t really want to go out, but he has this hopeful look on his face. Both of you don’t need to be sad today. So you stand up, pull the jacket over your arms, and take a deep breath. You walk out of the apartment, your arm linked with his.
The ramen bar you go to is probably better than anywhere the guy would’ve taken you, anyways. If you’re being honest, the company is better, too.
|Age 22|
Oscar flies you out to the Netherlands to see him race. You’d been at the Melbourne Grand Prix, of course, but he’d insisted he’d fly you out for at least one race in his first season- promised it years ago, when Formula One was just a dream on his bucket list. Zandvoort works well- it fits into your schedule, and the summer break starts right afterwards, so he’ll actually have time to spend with you.
In the days leading up to the race, he’s extremely busy and extremely apologetic about it. You reassure him that you understand, that you knew what you were getting into, knew he’d be busy. You wander around the paddock, say hi to Logan- who you know only slightly better than all the other drivers- and keep yourself entertained. You spend time with Oscar when you get the chance- between interviews and practices, stolen moments of privacy in his driver’s room. It’s nice, it really is, but it’s also… weird.
You’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about what your mother once said about soulmates and love. For all the soul searching you’ve done, all the stars you’ve tried to read, you’ve come up empty. You’ve resigned yourself to the fact that maybe there’s just not anyone out there for you. Maybe you’re not meant to have a soulmate.
The thing about letting go of that pressure, though, is that it leaves space. Not a hole, not an emptiness, just… space. Room for other things to sneak in and make their home and grow. Somewhere along the lines- you don’t know when, maybe it’s been there all along- a seed had been planted. Now the roots are digging cracks in your heart, the leaves are shading out every other thought, and there are flowers blooming.
For months, now, your heart has been jumping in your chest every time Oscar texts you. You can’t wipe the grin off your face when he calls. You’ve been following every race, waking up at odd hours to cheer him on, sending him selfies with the tv to prove it to him, to make sure he knows you’re watching. You feel a little crazy, because suddenly he’s all you can think about.
Maybe love is about choices. You start making them, start choosing him. The only question now is if he’ll choose you, too.
The whole weekend is chaos. Oscar crashes in practice, sending himself and your heart spinning. He’s okay, thank god- though his mother texts you frantically, asking if he’s really okay. Then the race itself is even more chaotic, between the rain and the crashes and all the stuff in between. Oscar ends up in the points, though not as high as he’d hoped to be. You cheer for him either way.
You stick around the paddock all the way through his debrief, even when he tries to say you can head back to the hotel without him. Eventually, you leave with him and Lando, his arm around your shoulders the whole way to the car that’s waiting. It’s nice. He’s warm. Lando is making small talk, trying to get to know his teammates best friend, the one Oscar never shuts up about. You feel your face grow hot and hope Oscar doesn’t notice.
In the hotel lobby, Oscar makes a stop at the complimentary snack bar. Lando says something about Kim, his trainer, getting after him, which Oscar ignores. The three of you ride up together in the elevator, with Lando demanding most of your attention as he begs for stories about Oscar as a kid. Oscar’s quiet- you wonder if the weekend is weighing on him more than he’d previously let on.
You say goodnight to Lando and then Oscar scans you into the hotel room. Two beds, a couch, and a balcony that the two of you had eaten breakfast on that morning. You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge, flopping down onto your back.
Something lands on your stomach, softly. You look down, and your throat suddenly feels tight. It’s an orange. It’s a peeled orange. Oscar is standing at the window, pulling the curtains closed. His back is to you.
You blink, picking it up delicately. “You peeled it for me.”
“You hate peeling them,” he says. It’s very matter of fact. The same tone he’d use to say duh or of course.
You stare at his silhouette, the slope of his shoulders, the soft puff of his hair. You sit up, stomach turning. Suddenly, you need to be close to him. You stand up, orange in hand, pulling one of the pieces from it. You hold it lightly between your fingertips. Love is an action.
You hold it out to him. He takes it, smiles down at you.
“I love you, you know that?” You say, before you lose the courage.
“Yeah, I love you too,” he says, giving you a goofy look.
“No, like-“ you pause. Maybe you shouldn’t do this. Maybe you should just-
But it’s too late, because a wave of understanding washes over his face. His eyes go wide, lips parting. His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, the orange slice still in his fingers.
“Oh,” he says, voice cracking. His face splits into a grin. “Jeez, took you long enough to catch up, didn’t it?”
When he drops the orange slice on the floor so he can grab your face and kiss you, you’re somehow still so startled that you also drop the rest of the orange. That’s okay, though. He’ll peel another one for you without you even having to ask. Stars light up behind your eyes at the feeling of his lips on yours, and you realize then that maybe soulmates are just the people who choose to stick around.
…..
Deep in your desk in your childhood home, there’s a piece of paper. It’s been unfolded and refolded a million times. At the top, the title says, 15 Signs He’s Your Soulmate in messy, primary school handwriting. You pull it from your drawer and uncap the gel pen that sits in the cup on the desk.
At the bottom of the list, beneath your faded magic marker scrawl, you add:
#16: He peels your oranges.
#16: childhood best friend??
#16: YOU JUST KNOW
little bit of a different format for this one. as always, feel free to check out my other fics and tell me what you think!
#oscar piastri oneshot#oscar piastri x you#formula 1 fanfic#f1 oneshot#f1 fanfic#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri fluff#formula one fluff#formula 1 fluff#f1 fluff#soulmates#f1 soulmate fic#oscar piastri x reader#Spotify#honeywrites#Oscar piastri
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Request/Idea-
Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)
Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭
Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)
P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible
-👘
Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.
In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!
Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons
Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.
Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior
Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.
Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.
If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.
“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.
The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.
Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.
Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.
He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.
#female reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#male yandere x reader#yandere imagine#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#yandere fic#yandere lawyer#tw yandere#yandere oc#yandere original character#original work
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Touch me ✭ Lando Norris and Ollie Bearman
Summary: After many times of asking you finally said yes to Lando, but with one catch. The innocent virgin Oliver Bearman would be there too.
Warnings: Threesome, oral (female and male receiving), fingering, voyeurism, unprotected sex, a bit of corruption kink,
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: Based off of this request. I need to thank the love of my life @mrsevansxstanxobrien for saving me once again. I recommend listening to a little death by the neighborhood just because it was on loop while I wrote this and I'm obsessed with it. And @oconswrld, @mangotaitai, @teamnovalak. Hope you like it!!
I look down at my paper, a few more questions left for the young brit. He gives me a smile, pink cheeks and so innocent, a hint of nervousness in his eyes.
“Don’t worry we’re nearly finished.” I smile back at him, watching as his eyes flicker away then come back.
“How we doing?” The familiar voice of Lando Norris appears. He wraps his arm around Ollie’s shoulder and the grin on both of their faces makes me blush. Lando whispers to Ollie, making him turn to Lando with a surprised face.
“You’re looking gorgeous today, just like always.” Lando smirks at me, always having something to say in hopes of me swooning over him, and maybe I do, but he won’t know.
“Ollie thinks so too. Don’t you?” He breaks Ollie’s silence, skin turning red and stuttering over words.
“No, I mean yes I think you’re really pretty but I-”
“It’s fine Ollie. But thanks anyways.” I wave him off with a chuckle leaving my lips. “Do we want to continue?”
“Of course.” Lando answers for Ollie, winking at me and unintentionally having me forget everything on my mind. I look back down at my notes, gaining my next words and finishing the interview quicker than I expected. Just as I start packing my things up to leave, I get called by Lando. I can’t say I was surprised, all of our interviews ending the same, asking me what my plans were for the night, and why they aren't him.
“You busy tonight? And you can’t say no because last time you said “next time” and right now is next time.” I’m certain he expected another no from me, but for some reason I feel different, I’m in need of something new.
“Will Ollie be there?” My eyes glance to Oliver, waiting for Lando and me to finish and a smirk crosses my face.
“Of course.” Lando answers, a smile growing on his face.
“Hilton, room 48, 8:00.” I keep my words short and to the point, trying to keep my emotions hidden by my words.
“Fuck. I see how this is… and I like it.” He turns around and walks to Ollie, the emotions that ran through Oliver's face were unexplainable but enough to make me certain the innocence in his smile would leave after this night.
I counted down the minutes till they would arrive, fixing my hair but making it seem effortless. My pants and blazer changed into a flimsy dress, with my favourite piece of lingerie barely covering my body. I smile to myself through the bathroom mirror, soon hearing a knock on the door and making my way to get it.
“You’re on time.” I say to both of the men at the door.
“Well you seemed really eager to see us.” Lando says, tilting his head to motion toward Ollie.
“Funny hearing that from you.” I say dryly, giving Ollie a smile and then walking off, leaving them standing at the door watching the way the dress barely covers my ass. My feet leading me to the mini fridge, I bend down with my legs slightly parted and ass out. “Any of you want a drink?”
Both of their attention pulled to me. I chuckle hearing a “fuck” coming from both the brunettes mouths. I gain no reply but heavy footsteps make their way toward me. Just as I’m about to turn my head two hands are already gripping my hips as they brush their bulge against me. “How about you?” I suppress my moan, knowing it would only make Lando crazier, but I want us to take our time with Ollie. When I turn around to face him, his pupils have dilated and need is written all over his face.
Our lips so close they might as well touch, and that’s what I do, close the gap and let our lips collide. Lando takes control immediately, one hand wrapping around my neck and the other at the back of my head. I fell into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his hands exploring my body through the clothing.
But then my mind goes back to Ollie and I have to break our lips apart. I bite my lip looking at Lando, eyes shifting to each of his and then his lips. Observing as he tries to hold himself back. My eyes then go to Ollie standing right beside the bed; I could just push him onto it and make him cum from my mouth. Instead I walk to him and read each of his features.
“You’re pretty quiet aren’t you? But not for long.” I wink before I lay my hands on his chest and bring my lips to his. I expect him to softly kiss me back but when his hands grip my ass and he pushes his tongue into my mouth, I can’t help but moan. Recognising some of this from Lando and thinking to myself about how Lando mentors him. Would that ever go beyond the track? We separate once we’ve both lost our breath. I admire the way he tries to gain composure, struggling to hide the bulge in his pants and red in his cheeks.
A stroke of a hand brushes against my ass and then Lando licks a stripe up the side of my neck. An involuntary moan leaves my mouth at the contact and I imagine what it would have looked like from where Ollie stands. My eyes follow Lando as he makes his way to the sofa beside us, sitting down on it with his legs wide apart and he looks at us as if he waits for us to perform for him.
“Get on the bed, and open your legs for me. Wide.” He commands. And just like any other person I didn’t think twice when doing it. Laying on the bed with my legs spread, feeling the cool air against my drenching pussy.
“I want you to make her cum.” Landos words make worry cross Ollie's face. “I’ll help you.” He reassures him watching as Ollie walks closer to my body. The way Ollie lifts my dress and runs his fingers through my folds would’ve convinced me he’s done this a million times.
He searched my face for permission and my quick nod was all he needed to slip a finger inside of me. My breath hitches instantaneously, letting him know it feels good as he thrusts it in and out of me.
“You can add another finger in. And once you’re deep, curl your fingers.” Lando assists Ollie, feeling him slide in two of his fingers, and just like Lando said he curls it once he’s deep.
I react in loud moans and whines of pleasure, helping Ollie gain confidence and take more control.
“Play with her clit too. It’ll make her legs shake and she’ll be coming on your fingers in seconds.”
Ollie takes Lando’s advice almost instantly, he uses his thumb to toy with my clit. “You don’t have to be soft, she likes it rough. Make her scream.” Lando’s words not only tell Oliver what to do, but make me clench around his fingers endlessly. I look over Ollie’s shoulder, watching Lando as he palms his bulge through his pants at the sight of us. I feel myself getting closer to my release, from the sensation of Ollie's hand to the view of Lando.
Ollie follows Lando’s instructions flawlessly, making my legs shake from the way he uses my clit like a toy. Each curse word leaving his mouth, adds onto my first release of the night. My climax barely slips past me as I scream full of pleasure. Coming over Ollie’s fingers that still thrust in and out of me.
Lando’s eyes are stuck on me as I look up to Ollie. His lip between his teeth and brows furrowed as he observes every emotion and feeling that crosses my face. I grab the back of his neck and pull him to me so he can ease into a kiss. Curling his fingers inside of me and making me moan into his lips. When he breaks the kiss his fingers slip out of me, leaving me to feel empty and in need for it to be filled.
“Taste her, suck on your fingers like it’s her.” Lando manages to say, still palming his rock hard cock through his jeans.
Ollie nods, lifting his fingers to his mouth to wrap his lips around them. Moaning at the taste. His reaction getting Lando off the sofa and striding toward me.
“Fuck if she’s that good I’m gonna need a taste.” Lando reaches me and grips my thighs to pull me to the end of the bed. His large hands rip my lingerie, head diving between my thighs immediately. Licking and sucking every nerve that my hands grip the duvet and hips grind against his face. I moan out his name then grab one of Ollie’s hands and place it over my breast.
Capturing his lips with mine, tasting myself, as he increases each sensation. Lando rams his thick fingers inside of me as his tongue overstimulates my clit. His other hand pressing against my lower abdomen and bringing my climax closer. My mind in a haze, not knowing what to focus on when Ollie’s thumb plays with my nipple as he takes my breath away in a kiss or Lando fucking me with his thick fingers and using my clit as a toy.
Ultimately I release, coming on Lando’s tongue and whining into Ollie’s mouth.
When I open my eyes I’m found with Ollie’s dick pushing against his jeans and Lando’s gorgeous face covered in me. He licks his lips, cleaning my cum off his mouth. Lando stands up and the outline of his cock is visible through his pants.
I look up to Ollie, a desperation in his eyes and I feel so proud of him for holding back for so long. I get up off the bed and tell Ollie to lay down at the head of the bed. Lando stands behind me as I peel off every bit of fabric from my body.
“You’ve been so good, it’s my turn to please you.” I walk toward Ollie, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling it down his legs, his underwear with it too. His cock springs up in front of my face, already dripping with precum. I spit on my hand, sliding it up and down his shaft, rubbing his precum over his tip with my thumb.
My legs are open wide, waiting for Lando and he knew exactly what was going through my mind as his hand is holding my hip and his tip is sliding through my folds and teasing my clit.
I push back against him, showing my demand for his cock inside of me. Instead of waiting for him I draw my attention back to Ollie, holding the bottom of his shaft so I can take him in my mouth. I go down slowly, letting my tongue glide on the underside of his dick.
My breath hitches and I choke on my breath, failing to go slowly on Ollie when Lando drives his whole length inside of me. A collective of moans filling the room. Breathing through my nose I start controlling myself as I go back down on Ollie. Trying to make this a night neither of them will forget. Lando takes my control as he rams into me and holds the back of my neck, leading my head down Ollie’s length and making it hit the back of my throat.
Both men filled me with their dick and took all the words from my swollen lips. I hold onto Ollie’s hips to keep me stable and Lando continues ruining my plans. Tears already running down my face and the sound of skin slapping fills the room. Ollie's head is inclined to the ceiling and Landos body covers mine. Pushing my body forward at every thrust.
“You feel so. Fucking. Good.” Lando grits through his teeth, inching toward his climax at the same pace as me. Each of my moans being sent to Ollie’s cock making him whimper and dick start twitching. I make sure to give him more attention, finally letting him release in my mouth. His cum shoots to the back of my throat and I make sure to swallow it all. Looking up at Ollie with glassy eyes, mascara running down my face and a saliva around my mouth.
Lando’s hands come around my body and cup my breasts, squeezing them and making me release, him spasming and coming right after. Lando rides both of our highs out, his thrusts sloppy and loud. Soon pulling out and leaving me with shaky legs holding onto Ollie’s thighs for some steadiness.
“Make her cum, but this time use your dick.” Lando already giving Ollie his next command. I decide to help Ollie, lead him this time. I push him down by his chest, now lying against the soft duvet. “I want you to look at me.” Lando’s words pointed to me. I nod, getting on top of Ollie but facing Lando.
I align my entrance with his dick. “You ready?” I look back at him hearing a “yes” leave his mouth, giving me permission to lower down onto him. A long moan leaving his lips and a whine leaving mine. I make sure to go as deep as I can, once he’s bottomed out I grind my hips. Pointing a finger at Lando and telling him to come here. He does exactly as I ask, crawling up the bed and then fusing our lips together once close enough.
Lando starts guiding my hips, helping me go up and down on Ollie and gaining such filthy sounds from his mouth. I clench around Ollie’s dick, a series of pornographic noises escaping his sweet lips. My hands are intertwined in Lando’s curls as I try to get him as close to me as possible. Now having a fervent need for the man I never thought I ever would. Lando’s hands rise up my body, holding my upper back and toying with my nipples. Ollie now holding my hips and emitting such powerful whimpers.
He holds me with a tight grip. I'm sure bruises will appear, and if that means I’ll have his mark on me for days, I would even let him dig his fingers in my skin.
Each grind of my hips brought Ollie closer to his climax and he ultimately released. Coming inside of me the second time tonight. The feeling of his cum inside of me and the euphoric sound that left his mouth was all I needed to tip me off and bring me to another climax.
“Fuck, not my good little virgin anymore.” I collapse into Lando’s arms, Ollie sitting up, still deep inside of me. “What makes you think I was good? I was silent because I was imagining filling you up when you take my virginity.”
#f1 smut#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#lando norris#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 fic#f1 fluff#lando norris smut#lando smut#lando x reader#ollie bearman smut#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman#ollie bearman imagine#ollie bearman fluff#ollie bearman x you#f1 one shot#formula 1 smut#formula one#formula one smut#formula 1 fanfic#f2 smut#f2 x reader#f2 imagine#f2 fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#ln4 x reader
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Maid-up problems (Konig x maid!Reader)
Konig goes to a maid cafe. Billions must perish.
Tags and CW: yandere Konig, obsessive and creepy behaviour, Konig is a bit of a perv, colonel loser Konig, maids and maid cafes, general fluff, slight age difference, slight size difference, mostly from Konig's pov.
AO3
— Welcome home, master. What your maid I get for you today, hm?
König just died and went to heaven.
Heaven consists of pretty girls running around in fluffy skirts, little aprons and putting on adorable headbands with white ruffles. Heaven filled with the smell of reheated pastries and pre-made snacks, with neutral sweet perfume and the stench of sweat from the customers. Heaven is filled with angels who run around in maid costumes and call him master – and all of this without going through the hassle of finding a cosplay-friendly prostitute in Vienna.
He honestly rolled his eyes the first time he saw the post about a new maid cafe opening in town. Horangi was the one to show him - the bastard didn’t even live in Austria and yet had followed all the news, maybe to only make fun of his colonel. He knows that the tiger has his dirty secrets too – ido girls, idol boys, some new band every week that he’d spend his paycheck to get all possible merch. Changing his gambling addiction to a k-pop one – all while his glorious commander is going crazy from the new maid hentai he just watched. Honestly embarrassing at his age…but he doesn’t care. He has money for the exclusive translations and elite figures – and he has some time on leave to visit the damn maid cafe.
Then König meets you.
He died, went to heaven and was greeted with an angel…no, a goddess. In a frilly apron, short skirt and adorable, albeit a bit embarrassed smile. You had your persona on – dorky and clumsy, useless little maid that customers liked to scold when you’d almost drop their drinks and then fake cry while apologizing. Some sadistic bastards like to play pretend by calling your manager while you’d beg for them not to. Some perverts with a hero complex would play into your pleads.
König stares in awe as you drop the menu accidentally, not forgetting to show off your cleavage as you pick it up. Brushing it off with your finger, looking so tiny and shy…god, he fucking adores you already.
— S…so sorry, master. Please, forgive me for dropping the-
— It’s okay. Don’t worry, ja?
He reaches for your hand, but you shoo it away. No touching – the cafe policy, as dumb as it sounds. He knows it’s for your own good, to protect you from perverts and creeps – but you shouldn’t be so scared about touching him. He would have to train you to do this after. nothing that a few touches of a good military discipline wouldn’t fix though – and he is very good at breaking down dumb recruits and annoyingly stubborn people.
Oh. Right.
He still kinda has to order.
His gaze immediately flicks to the most expensive thing on the menu – an exclusive dessert, probably too sweet for his tastes. He will have to make do though – there isn’t much on the menu, certainly is zero alcohol so drunk guests wouldn’t harass the maid girls, and a tiny portion of an omelet with some ketchup hearts squeezed all over it certainly isn’t to his tastes either. No, König had his eyes – covered by glasses, of course, he didn’t want to show off his scars and the expression of a serial killer forced to work in mercenary forces to cute girls in ruffled aprons – on a different prize.
You.
And the exclusive photos and a hug from any waitress of the fine establishment that would come with this overpriced order.
König has never seen the manager of this cafe, but he is ready to give them all money he has – just for implementing this feature into the menu. Just for selling off their girls to any customer who is willing to pay almost 50 Euros for a piece of a pretty regular cake and some coffee.
You stare at his order for a few seconds, your mouth going agape. He is not hurt – it was weird, after all, for a guy like him to order something as silly as this. You’re probably weirded out, thinking that he accidentally put his finger on the order – but you know better than to ask again and risk him changing his mind. Your cafe gives off bonuses if guests want to take a picture with you so, naturally, you’re all smiles and nods, tilting your head to the side as you say, ever-so-sweetly, that you’d be back with his order.
Now…is König ashamed of liking the pretty little maid so much? Not really, to be completely honest, he kinda adores having you around, and he’d pay even more for the opportunity to touch you. Too bad your cafe isn’t a front for some other body business – he’d be happy to raid it on the part of special forces and then save you from such a gruesome fate by making you his wife.
König wonders if your cafe has themed days. Maybe catgirls, cosplay, maybe housewives.
König wonders if he can get your number. Then his gaze falters to the reflection of his face in the screen of his phone – and, no, not going to happen. Not when he is fresh out of deployment, barely showered, and thrown a clean hoodie on which does very little to cover the smell of blood clinging to his body. It’s his cross to bear – his victims scratching at his ankles as the colonel sips on complimentary water from a pink glass and looks at all the other losers who coming to this fine establishment.
You’re lucky it’s a slow day – if König saw you being so sweet and touchy with some other lousy customer, he might have shot the whole place up. Master does not tolerate his silly servant being so nice to others, after all.
— Your coffee, master.
He whips out a stack of bills already, way more than what he was supposed to pay even with the exclusive offer he ordered. Your mouth opens to stop him, to remind him of the actual price of everything – then he breaks whatever good intentions you had when he starts to speak, his voice muffled a bit because of his black surgical mask.
— Do you have a boyfriend?
Oh.
Now, under normal circumstances, you’d yell for the manager to come and pick you up. You’d scream bloody murder and alert other girls and clients that you’re having a bad customer who is going into harassment mode very quickly – asking such personal questions at this place is something that shouldn’t be happening, no sir. Totally not happening.
But…the work has been a bit slow lately. You didn’t get as many bonuses as you wanted to, and the rent is coming up, and the phone bill is getting more expensive…sometimes you just got unlucky and his a streak of customers not liking your particular archetype – so if this weird dude who is totally killing people in his spare time wants a bit more than usual service and is definitely ready to pay for it.
You might have had a thing for guys in masks.
Big, muscular guys in masks who looks like they can choke you with their thighs and then fucking destroy you. With money who can get you a bit closer to your savings goal.
So, you’re not calling your manager, your friends, or the police. So, you play into the fantasy for a little bit, remembering all the acts your supervisors drilled into your head.
— Of course I don’t, master. I’m here for you, remember?
You smile and nod, hoping it will be enough. Hoping a guy like him could be satisfied with something as silly as this, something as tiny. You touch his hand a bit later, making sure to hold him for a while longer. A simple trick to enhance the amount of tip you can get – even tho you feel like playing with fire when you touch this guy so sweetly.
And, oh, König is…done for. Smitten. Shot right in the heart through his cock, somehow.
This man survived battle after battle, destroyed more small countries than there is letters in his real name, but he was defeated by a pretty girl in a maid outfit in a cafe made for incels and otaku wannabees. If any of his lower officers saw him right now, with ears and cheeks burning angry red, with his heavy breathing and obvious, but concealed by table hard-on, he would be done for.
But, oh god, aren’t you just beautiful?
Obviously embarrassed and maybe a bit shy – he thinks it’s probably just your persona, a way to milk tips from the customers who like to play dominant, but König doesn’t even need to play. He knows he’d have to take you by the end of your shift, whatever this time might be. He is not the best person for the romance job, but he’ll be damned if he let a pretty thing like you just run away like a silly girl you are.
— Can I have your phone number?
You want to say no, he can’t have your phone number. The guy smells of gunpowder and blood, looks like he is going to shoot the entire venue down if you disagree with him, and you do not want to die like a hero for a job that pays barely above minimum wage for the amount of public humiliation you have to endure to ensure good tips. The guy smells like danger and a bad time and a long conversation with your manager about the types of guests that they allow into this fine establishment.
You want to say no and yell but, then again, there are multiple factors that are screaming against such rush decisions.
A huge chunk of money he still has in his valet is, embarrassingly enough, one of the biggest decision-making points.
— We’re not really allowed to give our phone numbers, master…
His hand goes to his pocket.
You’re not sure if he is touching his cock, his gun, or another stack of bills right now – but all of the options are kinda making you want to die before you can check your answers. It’s going to be bad either way, so you tilt your head to the side, trying to look as innocent as possible.
— But I can make an exception!
He actually startles, looking at you like you just agreed to marry him. You probably would, with enough bullet threats – but you still bite your tongue, not wanting to give the crazy guy an idea. You actually don’t know if he is crazy or not – but taking your chances isn’t something you want to do on a nice Monday dead work day.
You can see relief in his eyes. A little wrinkles of smile, too – his mouth is covered by a mask, but you’re almost sure he is grinning like an idiot under this thing. Oh no…you just insulted a customer in your mind. It’s really bad for business.
You write your number down and pass it right to his hand without anyone noticing…you hoped so, at least – you don’t want other customers to order the same special treatment and you know that the manager would have your head for overstepping the rules so much. No one would care that you’re saving this fucked up place from a massacre – they would only care about arbitrary rule-breaking. You lick your lips and smile as his hand lingers on you a bit too long.
His hands are big and warm, too – you’re getting lost in the touch, as he carefully caresses the back of your palm with his thumb. He is…surprisingly tender. As much as a killing machine can be tender, of course – but you do appreciate a softer, milder touch. You do appreciate his hands on your body, caressing it softly and maybe even leaning you for a kiss and a quick…
Oh god, what are you thinking. You need to stop, immediately.
He pulls from his table suddenly and you almost feel like you fucked up, somehow. Maybe he did wanted something a big more than what you were willing to give, maybe this guy wanted you in a way that was not friendly for the cafe – but he swoops you by your waist before you could say anything before your hands could go upright and smack him – and you stop right before hearing him saying the dreadful words. The words you wished he wouldn’t have enough money to say.
God, this is hopeless.
— Can I get my special offer now?
König makes it sound like the special offer would include you on your knees, choking on his cock. König makes it sound like it would include you on your back, taking pounding from him while he tugs on your dumb apron and tells you to cry for your master. König makes it sound like the short skirt of your outfit was not covering you enough, he makes it sound perverted, horrible, utterly despicable, he makes it sound like…
God, he doesn’t have enough self-control for you.
You just…look so scared. Nervous. You play with the fabric of your costume in your hands as the other maid – some faceless pretty thing for him, with his eyes glued to your side anyway – was making pictures. Polaroid, is overpriced for a couple of photos he will get…but he doesn’t care if he has to blow off an entire contract bonus if that means getting some bonus from you.
He gets to hold your waist and it’s so easily to imagine digging his fingers to your sides as he fucks you with as much passion as he could gather. It’s easy to imagine his cock pumping into you, your tummy bulging from the sheer size difference between you and him – poor thing, you’d probably be terrified as he would force himself onto you. Maybe you’d clutch your little apron adorably and beg for him to stop. Maybe you’d ask him to be rougher and more passionate – to make you his in all sorts of ways. He just…he can’t imagine not taking you home after this.
He hugged you, it’s basically a marriage proposal already.
You try your best to ignore the way his hand slips down, almost to the point of groping your ass. You ignore it, the girl who is taking the pictures ignores it too. No one wants a scandal, no one wants to point this out – everyone knows how tips are made here, and you sure as hell won’t be putting yourself in danger just because you feel his giant hand fondling you through the fabric of your silly dress. You forgot the protective shorts too - so there is only a matter of underwear and skirt between his hand and your ass.
Somehow, the sensation isn’t as terrible as you want it to be. Somehow, you feel like tips aren’t the only thing that keeps you from screaming at him.
König died and went to heaven – this much is obvious. He is taking a picture with a pretty girl, he touches a pretty girl in maid's suit and she doesn’t even say anything to him. He just went out from a successful contract that would keep his pockets full for a few months and went straight for his savings, and he killed more people than the last week – god, life is fucking beautiful. He fondles your ass with his hand, other is awkwardly limp to his side, and he already knows that he will be a regular here.
He hates getting his pictures taken – it’s normal for people in his line of work, being a mercenary and a socially active person isn’t something wise if you don’t want an enemy finding out where you live, but he doesn’t really care anymore – he will keep the pictures with you, hold it in his wallet and put a spare one in his vest pocket. You can be his little guardian angel, the pretty girl who is waiting for him to return.
And he does have your number with him.
— Are you happy with the pictures, master?
You tilt your head and König forces down the urge to squeeze your cheeks and kiss you. They way you say this, the way you call him master – he simply can’t resist, not when you’re too fucking adorable to miss out on. He knows it’s inappropriate, he knows you’re just working here, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving a hefty tip and making sure you know exactly what made him leave so much.
God, he can’t wait to make you his.
König wonders if you’d agree to wear a skimpier outfit once you’re at the safety of his house.
#cod#konig x reader#konig#yandere konig#cod x reader#yandere cod#call of duty#loser!konig#konig smut#konig x you#cod konig#cod mw2#cod fanfic#yandere imagines#yandere male#male yandere#yandere#maid#maids
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miguel and the reader holding hands under the table during a meeting 🥹
poor miguel is so scared people are gonna think differently oof their boss if (when) they see you holding hands so he hides it even tho the reader knows everything is 100% fine and everyone knows their together 😭😭
have a great day/night and stay hydrated!!
omg this is so so CUTE and don’t worry I did stay hydrated love <3
warnings || miguel is a softie, fluff, making out, gender neutral reader
Hobie knew, if not immediately, when there was something more than just friendship between you and Miguel.
He saw the stolen glances, the soft feather-light touches, and the smallest of smiles that perked up against Miguel’s lips. Hobie would look around, wondering if anyone else had noticed the newfound love.
Alas, after much diving, he comes to the conclusion that he’s the only true observer around. Everyone else seems absolutely oblivious to the butterflies that practically dance around you two—well, until you bring Miguel a gift one afternoon.
It was a particularly hard day for Miguel. Another mission had gone wrong and he wasn’t able to fix it this time. It seemed to him that mission after mission kept failing.
Hobie, Peter, Gwen, and Miles were going to be sent on a mission to clean up the gigantic mess that was left in another Spider-Man’s wake, according to Miguel. It was a harsh meeting—that’s for sure.
As if on cue from Miguel’s sour and proliferated choice of words, you walked in.
“Hi.” You said, smiling brightly. “I brought you empanadas.”
Everyone sighed in relief at the mention of Miguel’s favorite food. Maybe he will calm down just a little bit.
“Gracias, cariño.” He says, taking the to-go box from your hands. He thought nothing of it as the lightest touch caressed against the small of your back.
In the background, Miles gasped—he gasped so loud that Miguel’s head whipped over to him. “You and—Oh.”
Miguel could only stare, eyebrows raising by themselves in surprise. Miles’ eyes widened and he quickly shrunk into his form. “Nothing! It’s nothing. I-I just—saw a spider!” His eyes widened. Again. “But not like a—like a radioactive one or—“
Miles winces at the rambling that tumbled out of his mouth and immediately clamps his mouth shut. “It’s great. I’m great. Everything’s great.”
It was entirely unconvincing. Extremely, unconvincing. Peter and Gwen just raise their eyebrows at him while Hobie nods to Miles.
Miles’ eyes continue to widen at the sudden confirmation from his friend. He opens mouth to ask a million questions going through his head, but the straight glare from Miguel snaps it shut.
It wasn’t that Miguel was embarrassed to be seen with you or anyone in HQ. In fact, when he visits your universe, he can’t stop with the public displays of affection. His arm envelops you as you walk, his finger caresses the shape of your jaw as you talk about your day, his lips press sweetly into your shoulder on the subway ride home, and sometimes his fingers purposely brush and tap against your thighs at your favorite dinner spot.
He was so proud of the person you had become and endlessly encouraged you in your passions. He drooped all over you—practically—at every given point.
Miguel was obsessed with you.
His only issue was the idea of you getting hurt. There was no rhyme or reason, in particular, as why that related to everyone at HQ—but he knew that this was a dangerous responsibility to take on.
Since you, everything and everyone became a threat. He will be damned if he lets anyone take you away from him.
So, due to his fears, you both agree—with terms—to not tell anyone in the spider-verse. It was nice too when everything wasn’t a fuss. Well, until you continuously slip up.
~
After Miles and Hobie already figured it out, it was Peter’s turn—but this discovery was much more of a shocking scene.
You were in his office—lair—whatever he liked to call it, sitting perched on his lap. Miguel’s arms were tightly wrapped around your waist and your hands were locked onto his muscled shoulders.
His mouth was perfectly slotted over yours, his deep breath fanning up against your cheek. His tongue swirled deliciously against your own as you pressed further into his chest.
You break apart for just a second, “Miguel.” You whined. As if he was a drug, your lips leaned forward once more—whining for the millionth time when his lips dodged yours.
He chuckled, his lips trailing lazy kisses along your neck. “Patience, cariño. You know I’ll take care of you.”
Your lips felt too swollen and your body felt too heated for you to make a conscious reply. Too kiss drunk, you just say his name once more. It was more desperate this time.
Miguel smirks smugly before leaning his lips down to yours again. You taste so sweet as he licks to the inside of your mouth—wanting to feel your velvety tongue. He growls at the feeling of your legs wrapping around him tighter.
Without any caution, Peter swings into Miguel’s office—despite lyla’s many protests.
“Hey, Miguel! Do you wanna see more Mayday pictures because I’ve got tons and I know that you’re busy but—oh my god!”
He screeches to a halt when he finally looks up from his daughter’s hand tightening around his finger to the sight of you—on Miguel’s lap with your tongues down each other’s throat.
His hand instinctively slaps Mayday’s eyes closed, even though she was already fast asleep in his arms.
You both, in practically a millisecond, jump out of each other’s skin and stand five feet apart. “Oh I’m—I was just—looking for a file.”
Miguel’s hand ruffles through his messy hair. “Yep. A file. They needed a file.”
He stared blankly at the two of you for a couple of moments. Miguel had patches of bruises that fluttered against his neck and as you predicted, your lips were swollen.
Then Peter smiled—he smiled so large. “Sure.” He drags out. “A file. Yeah, that’s exactly what you needed.”
Miguel grumbled underneath his breath while you stood too shocked to do anything quite yet.
~
Lastly, Gwen was the last one to notice. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t have figured it out, but more so she had a lot on her plate at the moment. Unfortunately, she was distracted more than normal.
Luckily, this was going t o be a highlight of her week—you and Miguel. About fucking time.
Everyone was in a meeting—you, Miguel, Hobie, Miles, Peter, and Gwen. Under the table, without anyone knowing, Miguel slowly interlaced your fingers together. Your lips twitched at the feeling and you squeezed his hand.
When Miguel got nervous, his hand would try and find your figure. It didn't matter what—a pinkie, your whole hand, an elbow, you name it. As long as he could find the comfort of the soft plains of your skin, he knew he would be okay.
Gwen nudged Hobie and Miles. She whispered as softly as she could. “Are they holding hands?”
Her eyes widened at the nod both of them gave back to her. Peter just smiles—almost too brightly at the sight of his friends being happy together.
"Yeah they are."
Gwen glares at them the three of them before whisper shouting. “You guys knew? And you didn’t tell me?”
Peter, very cautiously without suspicion, raised a hand in defense. "Well, I didn't wanna tell—you know, because I knew."
She rolled her eyes at the older man. "You're ridiculous. That's definitely not true."
“I knew the whole time. It was pretty obvious.” Hobie stated, unamused.
The other three gasped and it caused you and Miguel to slight jump—no spidey sense and all. "And you didn't even tell us?" Miles scoffed. Gwen just started to cuss as she was fed up, these were her friends for fucks sake. Peter just sniffed and whispered, "how could you?"
Miguel bellowed. “Are you idiot-brains even listening?”
As if on cue, each of their eyes widened substantially. Their lips were sealed tightly and nodded. Well, except Hobie. Hobie just laid back slightly more in his chair. Miles had to ask him how to be more unfazed.
"Not at all, blue panther. Just take them out of here and have a proper date now, yeah?" With that, Hobie takes his leave, despite the protests from Miguel to come back to finish the debriefing of a mission.
Miguel felt hot. He felt very hot. The entire team had just witnessed the two of you and he wasn't sure what you thought about it. You bit your lip and stared into his eyes. He could only stare back in nervousness before the realization followed him and toppled over him like a freight train.
Oh, who cares, he thought. A la mierda, he thinks once again.
"Will you? You know," He says it almost bashfully. You couldn't believe your eyes. "Go on a proper, real date?"
You smiled, so wide. You didn't have to hide anymore. Sure, you've had plenty of dates, but he's talking about a real one. One where you don't have to shove yourselves in bushes and wear non-recognizable clothes.
You press your thumb into his cheek and stroke softly. "I would love to, Miguel."
He smiles this time—it was wide and all of his teeth shown brightly through his lips.
"Ew you guys are gross." "This is the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life. Mayday, did you see?" "Can you guys adopt me?"
Miguel groaned, "Please, get out." He pauses a beat, "Now."
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara fluff#marvel#marvel fanfiction#across the spiderverse#spiderman across the verse#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099
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i'm obsesseeeed with dr. rem and i have a request for him if you're up for it!! <33 maybe reader gets into an "accident" (nothing serious) while working and remus finds out when he sees her in the hospital? like she didn't have time to call him and let him know so he suddenly just sees her and freaks out for a bit before realizing she's okay? thank you so muchhhh 💗
I'm obsessed with him toooo it's bad ! Thanks for requesting sweetheart <3
cw: minor head injury
doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
Your eyes water, but you do your best to keep them open as the girl in scrubs points her light in each one.
“Your pupils look alright,” she decides, clicking the light off and giving you an apologetic smile when you blink in relief. “Have you felt nauseous at any point since it’s happened? Dizzy?”
You shake your head no to both, wincing a bit as the clear bag of ice you’re holding to the back shifts slightly.
“That’s good.” She nods encouragingly. She seems young and somewhat green, probably one of those pesky residents Remus is always griping about. Though she’s trying to project the same seasoned calm as the other doctors and nurses moving about the A&E, there’s a quiet anxiety about her that you recognize. It’s the same one you carried during the first month at your job, the possibility of getting in some kind of trouble seeming to loom over you constantly. She’s pretty, you think, and she seems nice. Like she genuinely cares, a massive improvement over the woman at the front desk who’d given you a look so judgemental that it’d made you feel even more embarrassed for being here. “And you’re sure you didn’t lose consciousness at any point? Even for a second?”
“I don’t think so,” you say. “I mean, I would have noticed, right?”
She squints like she’s not quite sure what to do with that, and then you perk up as a familiar rhythm gets your attention. You wouldn’t have guessed you could do it outside of your shared flat, but you pick out the sound of Remus’ footfalls a second before he comes into view. He’s striding briskly across the room, skimming something on his clipboard, and he gives the swath of curtained rooms little more than a cursory glance as he passes—until his eyes flare, snagging on you.
You raise your hand in a sorry wave.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, doubling his pace to get to you. His attention moves to the bag of ice you’re holding to your head. “You’re hurt?”
“I bumped my head at work,” you explain with a shrug. The resident looks between you like she’s unsure if she should continue, clearly outranked by the other doctor in your little room. “It’s not bad, but my boss said I had to come here.”
Remus’ lips tug downward, taking the ice from you and tilting your head so he can see it. “You hit your head and you didn’t call me?”
“It’s nothing,” you promise him. “My boss just made me come in as a formality. For liability reasons, you know?”
Remus remains uncomforted. He murmurs a quiet direction to the resident so the poor girl steps back from you. You shoot her an apologetic look as your boyfriend takes your head in both hands, prodding at the tender spot on the back. You wince, and he makes a very unprofessional cooing sound, stroking his thumb next to the nonexistent wound.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” Even his dubious tone is gentled for you, the pinch of his mouth more worried than vexed.
“It hurts,” you admit, “but only like any bruise would. It didn’t even break the skin, Rem, I’m totally fine.”
He looks at the resident. “Any symptoms of a concussion?”
“No,” the girl chirps nervously. You wonder that anyone could be nervous around Remus, but you suppose he is sort of like one of her bosses. “Pupils are normal, no dizziness or headaches, no reactions to light or noise, and no signs of confusion.”
He nods, still frowny. You think he could stand to show her some appreciation, but this may not be the time to bring it up. “Alright, you can go. I’ve got this one.”
“Thank you,” you say after her, and she flashes you a tiny smile before Remus eclipses your vision, taking your face in his hand.
“You were fully honest, right?” he asks you sternly. “Didn’t downplay anything?”
“I didn’t.” You summon your most placating tone, reaching up to wrap your fingers around his wrist. “I’m really fine.” You rub your thumb into his pulse point. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, everything was just moving so quickly. I wouldn’t have tried to keep it a secret or anything.”
Remus lets out a long exhale, leaning forward so that his nose rests on your forehead. “I know you wouldn’t,” he murmurs. “But do you have any idea how scary it is to see someone you love in A&E, where you work, when you thought they were just going about their day unharmed?”
Your heart contracts as the severity drains from his tone, replaced by a dull rawness. “I don’t.” You slide your touch up his arm to his bicep, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry. But I am unharmed, see? It’s all good.”
He grunts fondly, kissing your forehead as he straightens. “Who drove you here?”
“Marcus.” You’ll have to make your coworker some cookies or something as a thank-you gift, though you’re sure getting a half hour off work to chauffeur you here wasn’t an entirely unwelcome break.
“And where is he?”
“Back at work. He dropped me off.”
Remus brow puckers. “He left you here?”
“Well, it wasn’t like there was anything he could do,” you say, shrugging. You feel a bit sheepish, though you’re not sure why.
“Still.” His jaw ticks. “Okay, I get off in less than an hour. Do you think you can sit tight until then? I’ll have someone bring you some fresh ice.” He levels your sloshy bag of ice with a disapproving look you want nothing to do with. “And did you eat lunch before your shift?”
“I’m good, thanks,” you say. “But I don’t need you to drive me home, Rem. There’s a bus stop right outside of here.”
He scoffs. “I don’t care if you don’t have a concussion, I’m not letting you take the bus after you’ve just hit your head.” He squeezes your shoulder, thumb pressing into your collarbone. “I’ll have someone bring you a snack.”
“It’s just a bump,” you argue, but Remus ignores you.
“Try to leave, and I’ll be very cross with you,” he threatens as he walks away. “Cuddles are a privilege that can be revoked.”
#doctor!remus#doctor!remus lupin#doctor!remus x reader#doctor!remus x fem reader#remus lupin au#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin hurt/comfort#remus lupin angst#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin one shot#marauders au#marauders#the marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fanfic#marauders fic#marauders fandom#hp marauders
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wroughtplatinum
girlballs too close to the sun