#this took far longer than it was meant to
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It Started With A... || CarLandOscar
Summary: Whoever thought love was limited to one person was an idiot. Love had no limits and you knew that better than most when a rookie found himself carving out a third of your heart.
Warnings: established relationships, fluff, angst, pining.
WC: 7.5k
It started with a smile. It was stiff and polite and made you pity the rookie who was being introduced to everyone so fast he would surely forget their names.
“It took me a few months, but you’ll figure out who is who,” you encouraged him as the welcome committee went back to work in the factory and Oscar looked for guidance on where he was meant to go next.
“I hope so. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you in the PR team?”
You looked down at your black skirt and white blouse and thought you probably did look like someone from PR or legal. “Contrary to belief, I am actually what people would call a PR nightmare,” you said as you held your hand out. “Y/N Y/L/N, Lando’s girlfriend.”
“It's nice to meet you. I suppose I’ll see you around here a lot then.”
You smiled ruefully and shook your head. “I’m studying at Royal Holloway but we wanted to be here for your first day so we stopped by.”
You looked around for Lando and found him returning from the cafeteria with a takeaway coffee cup in his hand. “I wondered where you went,” you teased as you happily accepted the hot drink and the kiss he placed on your cheek.
“Figured you needed this, love. I kept you up pretty late for a school night.” Lando nudged Oscar and winked.
The Australian’s ears turned pink and you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's humour. “He was steaming until some ridiculous hour this morning. You’ll probably find him crashed out on a couch somewhere this afternoon while I will be struggling through lab tech.”
“You’re the smartest person I know, I don’t think you even need to go to class.” Lando tipped your chin back, giving you a deep kiss without care that his new teammate was watching the interaction. “We should go, love, don’t want to make you late again. You want to come for a ride too?”
“Shouldn’t I go inside?” Oscar asked as he looked to the double doors that led into the employee only section.
“They want us to do a few icebreaker promo vids to get to know each other so you’ll just be waiting around for me to get back anyway.”
“You should probably get used to that, he likes to keep people waiting,” you joked.
“When have I ever kept you waiting?”
“I’m still waiting for a win.”
Lando chuckled and playfully swatted your ass. “I’m working on that. Hard.”
You cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb over his pouting bottom lip. “I know you are, baby, and it’s gonna come.”
Oscar cleared his throat and jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “I can just go wait inside.”
“Nah, come on,” Lando said as he grabbed his keys from his pockets. “You should see where her classes are in case there's an emergency.”
You frowned in confusion. “An emergency?”
“Yeah, like if I’m running late.” Lando draped an arm over your shoulder and led the way to the handful of reserved parking spots near the front door. “It’s only 15 minutes down the road.”
Lando opened the passenger door to his Range Rover and you glanced at Oscar who just smiled and opened the back door. “I’m okay back here,” he said as he climbed in. You settled into your usual seat but adjusted it to give Oscar’s longer legs some extra room.
The drive took a little longer with the tail end of rush hour traffic but it seemed to pass quickly with Lando and Oscar making small talk. You could almost feel Lando’s excitement vibrating off him when he spoke about the upcoming season while Oscar was far more reserved. You quickly understood that he was merely the quiet type, not that he wasn’t excited.
“You should come over for dinner,” Lando said, one hand resting on your thigh while the other steered. “I’m heading back to Monaco this afternoon but I’ll be back for the weekend.”
He squeezed your leg when he caught your eyes dropping down at the reminder. “It’s only a few days, love.”
“I know, doesn’t stop me from missing you.”
Oscar tried to turn his attention to the scenery out the window, feeling intrusive in the intimate moment, but Lando caught his eyes as they glanced over you. “Oscar could keep you company. Maybe you could show him around Surrey?”
Oscar’s eyes widened as if he had been caught red handed and his cheeks flamed again. “I, uh, sure, I mean, you’re probably busy studying though.”
“I can make time. I actually get through it a lot quicker without this distraction in the house. Who would have thought?”
Lando gasped, “Me, a distraction?”
“Mhmm, you always need attention, baby. But that’s okay, I still love you.”
“Good to know.” Lando dropped a lopsided grin and winked before pulling up to the front of the Science Block. “I love you too, and don’t forget Carlos is picking you up this afternoon.”
You leaned across the gearbox and kissed Lando farewell before turning to Oscar. “It was really lovely to meet you.”
“You too. Should I get your phone number?”
“Asking for my girlfriend’s number in front of me,” Lando scoffed. “Mate, that’s fucking rude.”
You slapped Lando’s arm and he burst out laughing. “You should have seen your face. Classic.”
You smiled apologetically to the Aussie. “I’ll put it in your phone,” you offered as you held out your hand for the device. You quickly entered the number and hit the green icon until your phone rang in your pocket before taking a selfie and adding it to the contact. “There, now you’ll remember who the name belongs to.”
“Thanks,” he chuckled, taking the phone back. “I would’ve just put ‘Lando’s Missus’.”
“I like that, you can still update it,” Lando chuckled. “It’s a good title.”
“One I’m still waiting for,” you said as you waved your empty ring finger. The movement drew your attention to the watch on your wrist and you swore as you saw class was about to begin. “Bye, baby, have a safe flight.”
You bundled up your bag but when you reached for the door it was already opening and you gave Oscar a quick hug as you stepped out. “Bye, Osc.”
Half the students had disappeared into the halls and you speed walked up to the heritage building where you would spend the first half of your day.
Lando watched you walk away while Oscar took the front seat. “You’ve done something right,” he commented as he put the SUV in reverse, “it took me two weeks to get a nickname.”
A dark blue Ferrari was surrounded by dozens of students when you left your last class and you cradled your textbooks tighter, prepared to bustle your way in. Carlos had been keeping an eye out and was quick to spot you leaving the building. He moved assertively through the crowd and met you at the edge of the circle so he could use his body to shield you.
“Nice and inconspicuous,” you teased him when you were safely deposited into the passenger seat.
“Sorry, hermosa, the flight was delayed. I didn’t have time to go home and switch cars.” He drove slowly as the last of the fans moved aside and tried to peer through the tinted glass. “How was school?”
“I didn’t fall asleep, so there’s that,” you said with a yawn and felt Carlos’ hand close around yours as you closed your eyes. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Carlos lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles before resting them on his lap. “Lando said you made a new friend.”
You smiled and opened your eyes to see Carlos glancing across the car as he sped along the highway home. “You two are the worst gossips. Oscar’s nice. I think they will get along well as teammates.”
“Better than me?”
“No one could beat you and Lando as teammates, baby, that was pure magic.” You rubbed soothingly along his thigh to reassure him. “I don’t know if he will get more vocal as he gets comfortable but I get the feeling Oscar is just a quiet person. He’s very different from Lando, and you and Daniel, which could be a good thing.”
Carlos chuckled to himself. “It sounds like you have spent a lot of time thinking about him.”
“There may have been moments,” you admitted. “But there was someone I thought about a lot more.”
A wicked grin grew and Carlos’s hand drew yours higher up his leg as he turned onto the narrow lane that led to the private property Lando had bought. Set halfway between the McLaren factory and your university, it was the idyllic spot to live and Carlos could fly in from the Ferrari HQ in Maranello whenever he had free time, or, when Lando didn’t want to leave you on your own.
“And who exactly did you think about?” Carlos asked as the front gates opened. “Was he handsome?”
“Very, very handsome, with dark hair and a sexy accent. And he’s so fucking fit, I could break my teeth on his abs,” you hummed happily as the car pulled into one of the few spaces left in the large garage. “I could go on and on about him. Charles is just-”
“Cha-“ Carlos’ foot fell heavy on the brake and the car jutted to a sharp stop. “Charles!”
Your giggle filled the empty car as Carlos ran around the front and opened your door. The world tipped over as he grabbed you out of the seat and tossed you over his shoulder, swatting your ass as he marched you into the house.
“I’m sorry, I was joking,” you spluttered between laughing and gasping as he spanked you again. “I was thinking about you, doing something surprisingly similar to this actually, just less clothes.”
The world spun again as he tossed you on the bed and caged you beneath his body, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. “You hurt my feelings, mi amor.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist and combed a hand through his thick dark hair that had grown in the week he had been gone. “Then let me make it better.”
It started with a text, asking if you had any recommendations for the local takeaways. It was Oscar’s cheat day and you were feeling like you could use a little pick me up of greasy food so you offered to show him your favourite spot. Carlos had been called away a day earlier than planned so you had the whole house to yourself and its grand size always seemed scary on your own.
The buzzer from the gates sounded and you hit the remote button to open it after, swearing as you realised you lost track of time. Open textbooks covered the kitchen table and highlighters were strewn amongst them as you tried to colour code the notes you had made on post-its. It was a mess, but it was too late to clean up as Oscar knocked on the front door.
“I promise I didn’t forget you were coming, I just thought I had time to finish my homework first,” you said as you opened the door and waved him in. You looked down at the grey sweatpants that came from Carlos’ drawer and the hoodie that came from Lando’s, not quite what you had planned to wear into town. “Obviously, I thought wrong. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just get changed real quick.”
“You don’t have to get dressed up,” he said as he took his shoes off and closed the door behind him. “I’d rather you be comfortable.”
You smiled at the sincerity and gave him a quick hug, inhaling the musky cologne that clung to his shirt. “You’re sweet, Osc, but you’re a rookie and it shows.”
He frowned as you pulled away and started to head to the stairs for the second floor where the bedrooms were. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You paused at the bottom step and looked over your shoulder. “You’ll see in an hour.”
The chicken shop had been almost empty when you entered before the dinner rush but there was a crowd growing outside. You were used to having cameras pointed your way after publicly dating Lando for over two years, but Oscar had only shot to fame in the last month when his infamous tweet aired on Drive to Survive. He hadn’t been known outside of the smaller F2 circle but now he was a household name.
“I see what you mean,” he said as he did his best to ignore the people knocking on the glass.
“You get used to it, eventually.” You popped a hot chip in your mouth and chewed it while you watched him, a small frown tugging his brows together. “The trick is deciding early on what your position is.”
“What position?”
“With the fans, the paparazzi, all of it.” You glanced at the window and waved. “When we started dating, Lando tried to protect me from them and hide our relationship but they were like sharks after blood. We found we had more privacy if we acknowledged them, then they just moved on.”
You didn’t try hiding with Carlos so no one ever dug too deep into it. Everyone just assumed you were close friends given how close Lando and him were too. It was easier for everyone to believe you were just friends.
Oscar turned to the glass window and forced a smile before waving to the children. Cameras flashed as the fans got the face shots they wanted and then they dispersed back about their day, with the exception of a few stragglers. “Huh. Are you sure you’re not in PR?”
“I’m sure,” you said with a smirk. You weren’t joking when you said you were a PR nightmare - if the world found out about the unorthodox relationship between you, Lando and Carlos it would be. “I have just been through it all before so I can be your personal guide.”
“Thank you.”
You pushed the leftover plate of fries his way knowing he was probably like every other driver who had the ability to consume three times their weight in carbs on a cheat day. “You can thank me with another dinner date, it beats going cross-eyed studying.”
“I’m not sure your boyfriend would appreciate that,” he said as he dragged the plate of fries closer and finished the last of them.
“Lando appreciated what makes me happy, and he’s secure enough to trust what we have isn’t going anywhere.”
The idea was foreign to him and you could see the doubt he had about it, but he settled instead for a polite, “That must be nice.”
“Your PR team is going to love you,” you chuckled as you grabbed your wallet to pay. “A driver who actually keeps his thoughts to himself, that’s a rarity.”
Oscar’s long legs quickly overtook you and he had some cash out ready. “I invited you,” he said with a stern look that caught you by surprise. “I’m paying.”
Raising your hands in defeat, you smirked and slipped your wallet back into your handbag. “Yes, sir.”
You watched his eyes linger on your lips before he shook his head of the wayward thought and led the way out of the store. “So what do you usually do when Lando is in Monaco?”
“Carlos usually comes and keeps me company, or I just study. Not exactly the epitome of excitement but it’s my last year and then I’ll go to Monaco too.”
Oscar quietly accepted the knowledge without questioning it, though you could see them swirling in his eyes. He wanted to know about Carlos but he was too polite to ask, or maybe he knew it wasn’t something you could answer. “Well, you have my number so if you get sick of studying you can always call me.”
"You can call me too, Osc.”
Term break arrived with as much turbulence as the plane you took to Austria. On one hand you were excited to be able to travel to a few races but on the other you nervously awaited two assessment results and continuously checked your phone for updates until Carlos locked it in the hotel safe. “You can get it back when you promise to relax.”
“I won’t relax until I know what I got,” you argued but between him and Lando they distracted you well enough, for a while at least.
“We need to get going,” Lando reluctantly said as he climbed out of bed and tried to restore some control over his mussed hair. “You can have your phone back, but just so we can contact you, not so that you can worry about your damn exams.”
Carlos laughed as he unlocked the safe that also had your passports and valuables stored. “I’m sure she will listen to you,” he said as he handed the phone over and saw the unread text messages from Oscar light up the screen. “Though maybe she won’t have time to check her emails now.”
The two managed to shower in a matter of seconds before they reappeared and sorted through the pile of clothes on the floor, tossing red one way and papaya the other.
“Is Oscar on his way?” Lando asked when he was dressed and ready to go to the track.
“He’s already there,” you replied, barely looking up from the messages that were coming in rapidfire succession except to kiss Lando goodbye. “And he said you’re going to be late again if you don’t hurry up.”
“I was on time yesterday,” Lando grumbled, pulling his shoes on as he hopped to the door. “I just looked late because I was the last to arrive.”
“Better than coming too soon,” Carlos joked as he leant down to give you a kiss too. “See you later, mi amor.”
You arrived at the track just before the driver’s parade began, when everyone was too busy making their way to the grandstands so the paddock was much easier to navigate. The results had been posted and a smile had been plastered on your face since seeing the grade, but you wanted to tell Lando and Carlos in person.
“Hey, you’re actually here.” The aussie twang greeted your ears before you turned and found Oscar opening his door opposite Lando’s. “I was starting to believe you were a figment of my imagination.”
Oscar opened his arms and you stepped into the hug you were pretty sure you had trained him into expecting every time you met. He was already in his fireproof skins and they hugged every inch of his torso so you could feel the muscle that lay beneath.
“I got in last night,” you said as you brushed a hand through his soft hair and giggled when it flopped back over his forehead. “How has your week been?”
“I’m pretty sure you know almost everything that’s happened.” Referring to the hundreds of texts that were religiously exchanged.
“It’s not the same without seeing your face, I can’t tell if you’re lying or not.”
He tucked your head back into his collar and held you a little tighter. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“You would if you thought it was protecting me.”
He didn’t have a response for that, at least not before Lando’s door opened and he leaned against the panel with an amused look on his face.
“Are we celebrating or commiserating, love?”
You had completely forgotten why you had come to the building and a bright smile lit up your face as you bounced on the balls of your feet. “A+, baby.”
“Knew you could do it!” Lando wrapped his arms around you and, incidentally, Oscar too. “Fuck the diet, we are going out tonight.”
You looked up at Oscar. “You’ll come too right?”
“Of course he’s coming,” Lando answered with a wink. “Gotta thank the guy that looks after my girl when I’m away. She would never get her nose out of a book if you didn’t take her out.”
You had quickly learned that it didn’t take much to make Oscar blush and Lando loved to make it happen.
“It’s no problem,” Oscar murmured as he scratched his heated neck.
Oscar understood more than anyone why there were always rumours about Carlos. Every time pictures were snapped of you and the Spaniard, or all three of you, the gossip began anew. After spending quite a bit of time with you over the last six months he had his own fair share of rumours but he knew nothing had happened with you. It was hard not to gravitate closer to you or to hug you at any given chance - there was a magnetism he couldn’t explain and he didn’t want to fight it.
“You saved me from total starvation on numerous occasions,” you praised, rising on your toes to kiss his pink cheek. “My hero.”
Oscar’s face grew another shade deeper and he tried to change his racing thoughts to something other than the feel of your lips. It was impossible, he was too far gone and was helpless to his own feelings that wanted more than you could offer. He couldn’t even look at Lando after the betrayal he had just imagined doing. That was his teammate and you were his boyfriend.
“I’m going to head to the garage,” he choked as he took a step back and grabbed his balaclava from his room. He could feel your eyes in him as he left and when he reached the end of the corridor he turned with a frown as he realised he had missed something. “Congratulations on the grade, you deserve it after the effort you put in.”
Those eyes he had come to love in the last six months softened and you smiled. “Thank you, Osc. Good luck out there.”
It started with a kiss. While Lando and Carlos were celebrating the points they had earned, you were keeping Oscar’s glass full as he stewed in his mind over what he could have done better. You could almost see the calculations running through his head as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass and it was like he couldn’t even hear the music in the nightclub.
“If you don’t drink that I will, and you don’t want to see what happens to me when I have whisky,” you warned him.
He looked at the glass and sighed, putting it down. “I think I should just call it a night. You should go have fun with them.” You followed his sight to Carlos and Lando jumping with the crowd, Lando’s mouth moving with the words and Carlos’ arm draped over his shoulder.
“They can keep each other company, I want to be here with you.” You took his glass and lifted it to your lips. “Last warning…” The liquor burned down your throat and you rushed to take a gulp of your fruity cocktail to wash away the taste before a shiver rolled down your spine. “Oh god, how can you drink that?”
You poured another glass from the bottle on the table and held it out until he took it with a small laugh. “It’s meant to be sipped, not shot,” he clarified before drinking a small amount.
The whisky hit your stomach and you felt warmth spread across your skin. The bar menu suddenly became a necessity and you fanned your face with the cardboard as the flush reached your hairline. “We should dance.”
“I, I’m not a good dancer,” he said, looking concerned at the idea.
“No one is good at dancing,” you pointed out, the crowd basically just jumping to the beat or moving side to side. “Just follow my lead.”
He accepted your hand and you grinned triumphantly as you towed him to the dancefloor before turning and stepping closer to his body. Your hands came to rest on his chest and you swayed your hips to the beat before realising he really did need to be led because his hands were still limp at his sides.
“You can touch me,” you teased as you grabbed his hands and put them on your hips. “Just relax and feel the rhythm.”
Oscar’s fingers flexed when he felt you start moving again, your body brushing against his, and he released a shuddering breath when you turned in his arms and tipped your head back on his shoulder to look up at him.
“You okay?” you asked as you watched his blue eyes darken in the laser lights.
“You’re beautiful.”
You turned to face him with one of those smiles of pure joy that always made his day better and he forgot about his poor race result. He could hardly breathe when your hands roamed his body, climbing the thick column of his neck to rest on his racing pulse. He was pretty sure he was going to pass out when you rose on your tiptoes, eyes closed and lips pursed to give him one of those sweet kisses on his cheek.
Someone knocked into him and he turned to growl a warning but then your lips were there, pressed to his lips and he lost the words. Time slowed to the space between one heartbeat and the next as he savoured the sweet taste of your drink, unable to stop himself from taking a little more.
You had kissed his cheek enough times to memorise the feel of them and knew it was not what you were kissing. A soft gasp slipped past when his tongue parted your lips and your fingers found themselves tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as your body yearned for more.
“Uh-oh, someone’s had a bit of frisky whisky,” Lando purred in your ear.
Oscar startled back and wiped his lips that were the same shade as your lipstick. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident. Someone pushed me,” he stammered as he looked around but had no idea who had barged into him when there were hundreds of people in the club.
“Relax, mate,” Lando said with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. You cozied into Lando’s arm and tried to process what had happened while your lips tingled from the kiss and your heart fluttered. “It’s the whisky.”
You wanted to tell him the whisky hadn’t kicked in yet but kept quiet as Oscar exhaled in relief. Hiding your face in the crook of Lando’s neck, you screwed your eyes shut and pushed away the image that told you he had regretted the kiss. The knowledge settled in your gut that twisted and turned and you gripped Lando’s shirt harder at the rejection.
“Can we go?” you begged quietly. “Please?”
Lando kissed your forehead and nodded. “Okay, love, let me just tell Carlos.”
Your hands were left empty as Lando darted back into the melee to find Carlos who would probably stay until the club shut down. For the first time since meeting him you felt awkward in Oscar’s presence knowing you had made him uncomfortable. You didn’t know what to say and it was clear he didn’t either as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“I’m sorry,” you mouthed as you took a step away, hoping the crowd would swallow you whole.
When you woke the next morning for a moment you could pretend it was some strange dream, or nightmare, until Lando blinked his sleep eyes open and pulled you into his arms. “Good morning, beautiful.” The timbre of his voice when he was just waking could always bring a smile to your face but your lips merely wobbled and he sat up concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“I fucked up, with Oscar.”
“Baby, it was just a kiss and you were both drunk, I’m sure he’s probably already forgotten about it.”
The thought that he could forget something that to you was so profound only compounded the ache in your chest. You didn’t want him to forget, you didn’t want him to regret, and you voiced as much to Lando as you cried in his arms.
“Sweetheart,” Lando murmured softly as he wiped away your tears. “I think this is a conversation we should have with Carlos.”
“It doesn’t matter,” you grumbled, tearing yourself from his embrace. “It wouldn’t work out anyway.”
Lando got up and followed you to the bathroom as you turned the shower onto the hottest setting. “Why wouldn’t it work?”
“You and Carlos are best friends, and while you are always close to your teammates I know he doesn’t have the same interest in Oscar.” You stepped under the cascade and welcomed the burning heat that rained down. “I don’t want to lose what we have by wanting more.”
You didn’t hear Lando leave as the steam fogged up the glass and you let your head fall against the cold tile wall. He left you to your thoughts and gave you the space needed to reconcile your feelings to the past.
It started with a phone call. The urge had woken you from a deep sleep and you couldn’t shake the need to reach for your phone and dial the number you knew by heart. It had been a good weekend for the McLaren team with double podiums both in the Sprint and Grand Prix. The two third place caps were hung on the post of the bed as testament to the productive weekend but Lando had gone to bed deflated.
Oscar had won his maiden race before him. A rookie had done what he had waited years for, what he still waited for.
“Hello?”
You had assumed the call would go to voicemail after ringing for so long so you weren’t prepared to hear Oscar’s sleepy voice in your ear.
“Hey, sorry to wake you.”
“It’s okay, is everything alright?”
You swallowed and shook your head before remembering he couldn’t see. “I just wanted to say congratulations, I thought you would still be out celebrating.”
“There’s no one to go celebrating with,” he said so quietly you wondered if it was even meant to be said out loud.
“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure what for exactly but you felt the need to say it anyway. It was about the only thing you had said to him in weeks. “I should let you get back to sleep.”
“It’s, uh, it’s good to hear your voice,” he admitted and you a little bit of the weight on your shoulders eased as you realised whatever you had wasn’t completely ruined.
“You too, Osc. Good night.”
“Night.”
It was naive to think that one phone call could repair the divide that had chasmed between you because when you returned home for your last semester you still felt his absence everywhere. There were no daily text messages, or invitations to dinner, no sudden appearances as you left class. He was a memory that haunted you and it was always worse when both Lando and Carlos were away.
Four Months Later
It started with a bouquet. The small card was almost lost in the overflowing explosion of blossoms that left a sweet scent in the air but when you flipped it over your heart skipped a beat. Congratulations, OP x
You were still smiling just as brightly an hour later when you arrived at the graduation ceremony to receive your Honours degree. You had kept the bouquet with you and inhaled the fresh scent as you waited for your name to be called. A loud cheer erupted from the rows where Lando, Carlos, your friends and family sat but it was the lonely cheer at the back of the hall that caught your attention.
Unfortunately it may have been a hopeful hallucination as you didn’t see him again after that or at the celebration Lando threw for you at home.
“Pack your bags, baby, it’s time for Monaco!” Lando engulfed you in a hug and spun you around so your ceremonial robes billowed out and you clutched your cap to keep it from flying off. “I’m so selfish, I can’t wait to wake up to you every fucking day.”
Another set of arms tugged you away and you fell into Carlos’ embrace. “I’m so proud of you, hermosa.”
You were practically a marionette the way you were passed from one person to the next until finally the bottles of champagne ran dry and the party came to an end. You collapsed onto your bed with a giddy laugh that the long journey was finally over and you toed your heels off, letting them fall to the floor.
“You can’t sleep in your dress, amor,” Carlos chuckled as he walked into the room with Lando after locking the house up.
“Then you will have to undress me,” you teased with a beckoning finger that faltered when you saw Lando had the bouquet in a vase that he had found downstairs and he placed it on the bedside drawers beside your phone. “I saw him.”
“I know,” Lando said as he straightened the card among the roses. “I invited him.”
“Thank you.”
The next bouquet was one that you sent to him on his birthday. He barely kept the flowers alive for a week but he did keep the card that was attached. The two little xx’s you signed off with were almost faded from how often he traced his thumb over them before slipping it back into his wallet. He was no longer a rookie but he found this season harder to bear without your companionship and he wished he could somehow fix what he broke.
The problem was that he couldn’t settle for just your friendship anymore so he had to keep his distance instead. He had tasted your lips and nothing less could sate the addiction that had festered in the absence of another hit.
Miami was torturous for Oscar. The car was running great and his qualifying was great, but after five rounds of racing he was still stunned every time he watched you enter the paddock. At least in China the weather was horrible so you were bundled up in Lando’s hoodie but Miami, Miami was hot. Monaco had been influential in your fashion and the dress you wore was worthy of the runways in Paris.
Stacks of passes hung around your neck and fell into your cleavage as you entered the grid and joined Lando where he was talking to Carlos. Oscar watched with envy as you hugged them both and kissed their cheek with well wishes for the race while he failed to hear what his race engineer was explaining. He was distracted by the fact you had seen him, and smiled. It was small and shy, but it was a smile nonetheless and one of his own growing as you waved your fingers and disappeared back into the garage.
One hundred and ten races he kept you waiting, but finally Lando won his maiden race and there was nothing that could bring him down. He had not stopped smiling, or dancing, or talking since winning and he wasn’t even sure if any of it made sense. The hours were a whirlwind of alcohol and noise until it all turned black and Carlos had to help you get him into bed.
Lando was fast asleep with his mouth open and snoring, which heavily down to the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed at the after party. He didn’t even stir as you slipped out of the bed and left the room to answer the call that lit up your phone.
“Hey.” You kept your voice low even though you knew nothing short of a fire alarm would wake your boyfriend.
“Hey.” You could hear the smile in that word and your own lips curled up in response. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I just needed to hear your voice.”
You navigated your way through the dark hotel suite to the balcony and opened the door just wide enough to fit through before closing it. The humidity was instant and the satin nightgown clung to your warm skin as you hung up the phone. “You didn’t wake me.”
Oscar was so close you could almost touch him, but the balcony one room over was just too far away. He even looked down the gap to see the fifteen storey high plunge and you could see his brows burrow together like he was calculating his chances of making the leap across.
“Don’t you dare,” you warned him. “I didn’t come out here to see you fall to your death.”
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing and he sighed in defeat. A smirk soon tugged at his lips and he brushed his hair back over his ear as he eyed the sheer slip you wore. “But you did come out here to see me.”
You crossed your arms over your chest, aware of how thin the material was and all it bared. “I wanted to check how you were.”
Oscar’s lips pursed at the reminder of his poor race result.
“Could have done without your boyfriend’s boyfriend crashing into me.”
He didn’t know how close to the truth he was with that statement and you wondered if he knew about the relationship that Lando and Carlos had or if he was just playing on an old fan rumour. You wondered how shocked he would be if he knew that Carlos was passed out on the other side of Lando right now.
“It is a part of racing,” you reminded him. “There’s always a risk battling it out.”
Oscar dropped his head with a little laugh. “It’s a good thing I didn’t call you for sympathy or I would be disappointed.”
“Why did you call me?”
You knew why.
“I told you, I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Osc,” you sighed, your hands falling to your side, and he lifted his head to look at you, his blue eyes so similar to his teammates.
“I’m not an idiot,” he said as he let go of the rail he leaned on and rose to his full height. “I know you love him.”
“I do,” you confirmed with a small nod, unable to look in his direction as you turned your focus to the view of the ocean instead.
You didn’t hear him move until his feet landed quietly on the concrete behind you and you spun around to face him. A small shocked gasp escaped your lips when his palm glided over the satin at your waist and pulled you closer to his body. Your hands found their own space on his chest and he froze as he waited for you to push him away, but your fingers curled into the white shirt he wore.
“I know you love him,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “But I think you might love me too.”
“You have ignored me for months.” It wasn’t a denial and he caught the admission of those missing words.
“I can never ignore you, and now I know I can’t even keep my distance from you.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours as his large hands cradled your face. “I need you, Y/N.”
“You don’t know what you are asking for,” you whispered as you fought the urge to tell him just how much you needed him too.
“I’m asking for a chance to show you how perfect we are for each other.” He pulled back to see tears shimmering in your eyes and he sighed. “I shouldn’t have called. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”
“Wait-”
“No, you don‘t have to say anything. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I don't want you to cheat on Lando.” He kept backing away but you followed with each step until his back was pressed to the railing.
“Lando isn’t the problem,” you promised as you reached for his face and cradled his sharp jawline. “Remember when I said I was a PR nightmare?”
Oscar nodded as his brows furrowed together.
“I’m trusting you with a secret no one else knows.” His confusion grew as you took his hand and led him inside the suite. You pressed a finger to your lips as you reached the bedroom door and nudged it wider so he could see what was inside. In the dim light it was hard to make out what he was looking at but then everything came into focus like the Ferrari shirt on the floor and the CS55 cap on the nightstand.
Oscar’s jaw slackened as he recognised the two bodies spread across the sheets and he eyed the empty space that you had filled. A thousand questions muddled in his head and he swallowed them down until you had closed the door again. His hand slipped out of yours as you walked back to the balcony and you wondered if that was the last time you would ever hold it.
“No one can know, please,” you whispered as you hugged yourself and stared at the moonlight on the waves.
“Help me to understand what I just saw. Are the rumours true then?”
You laughed and turned to face him, crossing your legs and you leant against the rail. “They're not wrong,” you admitted with an evasive shrug. “They love each other and have a relationship, but it’s not the same relationship that I have with them.”
“You’re not exactly helping me to understand this,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face as he sat heavily on the outdoor settee.
You had never needed to explain it before, the addition of Carlos to yours and Lando’s relationship had naturally fallen into place and been accepted without having to understand why you all felt the way you did or how it was going to work. But now you were going to try.
“I met Lando first and what we had was instant, he was funny and sweet and kind. Then he introduced me to Carlos who was so charismatic it was impossible not to love him too. It didn’t mean I loved Lando any less so he supported me having a relationship with Carlos too.”
“Okay.” He nodded like it made some sense and it gave you a slither of hope. “But what about them?”
You watched Oscar’s eyes linger on the skin bared by the satin and they darkened when you uncrossed your legs to step closer. He sat up straighter as you approached and his legs opened for you to step between and he did nothing to stop you when you took a seat on his lap.
“You want to know if it's a package deal?” you teased, toying with the strands of his dirty blonde hair. “You want to know if you can have me, but at what price?”
His throat bounced with a deep swallow and his tongue wet his dry lips before he could speak again. “Is it?”
You thought about teasing him more but you settled for the truth. “No, like I said, they don’t have that sort of relationship. Yes, we may sleep in the same bed more often than not and on occasion they share me, but that is as far as they go. That is where the rumours are wrong.”
“Share you as in…”
“Threesome, Oscar,” you confirmed with a laugh as his cheeks turned pink. Seeing that colour again reminded you of the kiss and you shifted on his lap to straddle his hips. “I can’t stop thinking about you. It feels like a part of me has been missing for months.”
His hands slid up your back and pulled you closer. “I know what you mean.”
His lips were so close you could feel their warmth and they begged you to close the distance, but you couldn’t just yet. “I want you, Osc, and you’re right, I do love you.”
You could see the sadness in his eyes as he asked, “But?”
“But I don’t know how this works when you and Carlos are battling each other every week.”
“I know things sound heated on the radio but that is just on the track,” he promised, his thumbs drawing soothing circles over your spine. “I have no problem with Carlos, I swear.”
Carlos had said the same thing but you weren’t sure if they were just trying to placate you. Only time would tell.
“It’s not just my heart that will break if this doesn’t work,” you whispered as your eyes fluttered shut and you surrendered yourself to him.
“Then we will just have to make this work.”
#lando norris fanfic#carlos sainz fanfic#oscar piastri fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic
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Flashing Lights
Art Donaldson x reader
If people like this I’ll write a part 2 and possibly some sub Art fics in the future. Challengers is all I can think about at the moment and this blonde man is living rent free in my brain.
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‘Come on come on, they can never have too many pictures taken of them!’
Your friend dragged you and your mediocre camera, quite forcefully, to Tashi Duncan’s party. It wasn’t just that you hadn’t been invited and that you weren’t remotely a tennis player it was that Ashley’s lame excuse of ‘they need more photographers’ was patently untrue. Everywhere you looked there were photographers with cameras that cost more than your yearly rent.
‘I’ll get us a drink wait here.’
You watched her confidently insert herself into the queue for the bar, in between endless posters of Tashi Duncan hoodies and Tashi Duncan headbands. If you hadn’t been such a feminist you might have felt a little sick from all the masturbatory self promotion.
In your idleness you decided to people watch. There were no less than a hundred people there already, all dressed elegantly with hair and makeup that no doubt took longer to do than the night would even last. You pulled at your tight dress. Flattering? Definitely. Comfortable? Absolutely not. Ashley had the tennis body, the Tashi Duncan confidence and skill but without the praise or queue of fans. You had your camera.
You hadn’t touched a tennis racket since you were ten years old. These people weren’t your peers they were your betters, including the snobby photographers and perhaps even including Ashely. At least she knew what ‘down the line’ meant.
‘Can we go?’ Your voice sounded bitter as Ashley handed you a cocktail. ‘I’ve got two photoshoots to edit for tomorrow and I don’t even like tennis! Why am I even here?’ As your friend defended her plan to ‘sleep with as many rich tennis players as possible’ your eyes wandered once again, this time landing on a man who needed no introduction.
‘Is that … Art Donaldson?’
It was him, smoking a cigarette by Patrick Zweig dressed for Summer. Fire and ice in the flesh. You suddenly felt the need to readjust your dress, your hair, your earrings. To fidget. To fidget and prepare for the chance he might look in your direction and see what he wanted.
‘Fuck me it’s Zweig.’
As Ashley launched into a thesis on why Patrick was the hottest man she’d ever seen, your eyes bored into the side of Art’s head. His curls fell so perfectly on his forehead but all you could find yourself imagining was messing them up. As your staring breached the line of too far, Ashley tapped your arm. ‘Think I should go talk to him? Flirt a bit? He’s a bit of a man whore, I’m pretty sure I could get him.’ Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the recipient of your staring began to move closer.
It only took a few moments for Art to reach yours and Ashley’s corner of refuge but his eyes never strayed from you. Zweig had followed him like a puppy and whilst you couldn’t have cared less where the brunette chose to stand, you could practically feel Ashley screaming in her head.
‘Aaliyah right? You basically murdered my friend out there yesterday.’ As Ashley corrected Patrick’s memory, you forced your eyes to look at anything that wasn’t Art’s knowing smirk in your direction. It didn’t work, in fact your refusal to make eye contact with the future star had made your feelings glaringly obvious.
You’d watched him play many times, instead of doing your own work, and although you found tennis a little boring the man had you riveted. The ease at which he hit the ball with such force, the little hand movements he’d do during a tie break and his cruel habit of taking his shirt off on hot days … you were hooked.
As he eyed your dress you wondered if he’d seen you, made note of just how many matches you’d been front and centre at. Maybe he knew you were an amateur photographer and perhaps his smirk was intended as a mockery of your being there. Art knew you didn’t belong at thee Tashi Duncan’s after party. You both knew it. He looked at you, finally as you’d lifted your gaze, and cocked his head slightly to the side.
‘So, you don’t like tennis?’
Shit.
‘Oh. You heard that.’
‘Yep.’
His voice was glazed with amusement as he sipped his cold beer, daring you to defend yourself.
‘Ashley was invited,’ you lied with little ease. ‘I’m here as her friend- well I guess also photographer but you all seem to have that covered.’ Both yours and Art’s eyes glanced at the gang of professionals taking Tashi’s photo. She was holding the shimmering trophy as if it was nothing of real value, she had the humble but proud smile down. Art clocked your jealous expression and raised an eyebrow. ‘Tashi not your favourite?’
‘She’s pretty amazing and she looks fucking beautiful tonight I can’t lie. I just, I guess I wish I was that talented.’
Despite her successful flirting to Patrick, Ashley heard your little, sad admission. Mentally you scolded yourself for letting Art see your vulnerable side. Instead of judgement he smiled.
‘Are you not the best at getting front row seats?’
He left off ‘at my matches’ but the point had been made loud and clear. You chose not to react and to ignore him completely. ‘Ashley?’ But when you turned your head to your friend you saw her mouth was occupied. Oh.
Art laughed at his best friend. ‘Seriously? You couldn’t go one night?’ No, Patrick couldn’t and he couldn’t find it in his horny heart to feel guilty for stealing your one friend and escape route from you. The pair, still connected by their lips, hurried away from the party and to some poor fucker’s bedroom. You were alone with Art Donaldson and the party that engulfed the two of you had began to die down.
‘I should go too-‘
‘Wanna go down to the beach with me?’
You couldn’t help but scoff audibly at his request. ‘You don’t even know my name.’
Art’s eyes practically gleamed with cheekiness as he moved towards you. ‘Then tell me.’
‘It’s Y/N.’
With a charming smile he repeated his offer. ‘Y/N… wanna go down to the beach with me?’
If a mind reader had been in attendance you’d have been mortified as your first thought was: Oh god have I even shaved?
The decision to take your heels off had been an impulsive one and an instant regret as you felt the brittle sand rub against your toes. Avoiding the broken glass, you walked into Art’s shoulder and quickly apologised. ‘You’re like a baby deer.’
You perched on the rock overlooking the water that moonlight reached. Art’s eyes were transfixed on you as your hair blew from your shoulders. Surely he was just bored and flirting for fun. But you hadn’t seen him speak to anyone except Patrick before approaching you.
‘What is it about photography?’ Art gestured to the camera you almost forgot you were still wearing around your neck.
‘What is it about tennis?’
Art lit his second cigarette, took a drag and smirked.
‘I’ll let you answer that.’
Much to his elation, your dress had begun to ride up but you hadn’t noticed. You simply dug your toes in the sand and smiled coyly at the blonde. But how to best handle this?
‘Watching you play tennis isn’t like watching other people play tennis.’
Art grinned, only for a moment, but you caught the ego boost in real time. He moved backwards in his chair, outstretching his long legs and looking up at you with keen interest and quiet amusement. ‘Go on.’
Your mind flashed back to his most recent match. His opponent had purposefully coughed every time it was Art’s turn to serve and instead of letting it distract him or doing it back Art had fired the ball, with force, by his head. It had been a warning, not a greatly subtle one but certainly great to watch. The shock on the boys face as he narrowly missed receiving a black eye had made you laugh and you suddenly remembered Art had beamed at you when you had.
‘You’re just really good at it.’
‘Try again.’
He wasn’t making this easy for you but that didn’t mean you had to shower him in compliments, not when he hadn’t so much as asked you your name until prompted. You watched him, completely settled and comfortable in Tashi Duncan’s deck hair and wondered if someone this confident and talented (and knew as much) could possibly be single… unless?
‘Are you and Patrick just friends?’
He twitched ever so slightly at your question before covering his shock with a chuckle.
‘Umm.. yes. Sorry to disappoint.’
You smiled, suddenly feeling more confident now that you’d put him on the spot for the first time that night.
‘Not disappointed.’
Seeing you at ease, seemingly with any answer he had to offer, Art relaxed into his chair again. A moment of silence passed as the two of you listened to the very end of the party above and the seas tumbling waves. The water was just beginning to reach the rock you’d been safely perching on. A sign to leave.
‘I think I should go back to my ho-AAA!’
You’d barely taken two steps before buried broken glass assaulted your feet.
‘Jesus fuck!’
‘Y/N!’
The pain shot through you from toe to head, it settled in between your eyebrows as you frowned, trying not to scream. Art’s face was a picture of panic. He couldn’t help but notice how much pain you were in from putting weight on your foot, which had just begun to bleed as a thought entered his head.
‘I’ll carry you.’
‘I think I can walk.’
You took a hesitant step further but your foot ,in an act of betrayal, buckled under the pain. Giving Art a look of defeat you sighed. ‘Yeah, I think you’re gonna have to.’
You thought it would feel strange, the man whom you’d been watching almost obsessively for months play a sport you despised carrying you to safety. It didn’t. It felt right. His strong arms flexed under your weight as he took confident but cautious steps to Tashi’s party. There wasn’t much left of it. In fact the only people still there were two photographers packing up their lighting equipment and they didn’t give you so much as a second glance.
‘Any chance you secretly are friends with Tashi?’ Art asked, his voice hopeful, hoping he could drop you off to safety. He pursed his lips when you shook your head. Another moment of silence passed through the two of you but this one was different. You craned your neck out to gage the distance before suggesting:
‘My hotel really isn’t far. A mile at most.’
Art smirked for a moment, forgetting what the actual circumstances were. Your foot had stopped bleeding but you didn’t feel like walking. In fact you were rather enjoying Art Donaldson: the knight in shining armour. It was a good look on him.
‘Uber?’
‘Think of it as a workout.’
It wasn’t the recreational workout Art had been hoping for that night but he did it. He carried you and your shoes to your hotel room. The receptionist barely reacted to your new person but of course what did she care? She was probably only concerned with what mess you’d leave the cleaners.
‘67, this is it.’
Art put you down, keeping his arm around your waist for support. He was a little flushed from the exertion and you were flushed from the pain, or perhaps just his wandering hand.
‘Do you want me to st-‘
‘I want you to stay.’ You interrupted him hurriedly, desperate for him to stay. In that moment you didn’t mind if he stayed to read the complimentary bible next to you or if he wanted to fuck you mercilessly in front of the bathroom mirror. You just wanted him close.
At your eagerness, Art smiled following you in. Your hotel room was not too messy for visitors but it certainly hadn’t been expecting any. For a moment you wondered how Ashley was getting on in her room down the hall and if she too had embarrassed herself in front of her favourite tennis player. Somewhat likely.
‘I think seeing as you’ve carried me bleeding you can see me in pyjamas. Give me one se-‘
You gestured to the bathroom and your dress, looking forward to getting out of it but Art shook his head. You froze. His face was one of sheer determination and unwavering confidence, not unlike the look he gave cocky opponents who needed humbling. He closed the gap between you until his chest was inches from yours but blocked by your camera. You took it off, not breaking eye contact, and placed it slowly on the desk behind you.
Just as you thought the only way to break the silence would be with a kiss, Art broke eye contact. ‘Do you have any antiseptic wipes? Anything to clean it?’ You felt your stomach unclench. ‘Yeah.’ Limping slightly, you fetched a packet from the bathroom sink and placed them in Art’s open palm. He gestured to the bed.
‘Sit.’
His order was polite but you felt compelled. Sitting on your own bed as if it was alien, you looked up at him waiting for the next.
‘Foot.’
Art got down on his knees. Your stomach flipped. With careful hands, he held your injured foot and inspected it. You’d never felt so exposed before, the way his eyes engaged with your wound as if it were more fascinating than any match he’d won. There was an unspoken rule for neither of you to speak as he cleaned you. It stung like a bitch but you only let out minor hisses in pain, barely audible to Art but not unnoticeable.
As he took out a plaster, seemingly from thin air, and applied it to your foot he said: ‘Before tonight,’ Ouch. You winced from the pressure he applied. ‘I’d seen you watching me.’ He didn’t look at you, only concentrating on his handiwork and causing you as little pain as possible.
‘Yeah I gathered from all the teasing.’
His voice grew suddenly lower. ‘I’m not talking about tennis matches.’
You were suddenly reminded of a not so distant memory. Ashley had stood you up for lunch, she’d found a better hot date, and you had been in the cafeteria alone. Art had been queuing in front of you, waiting for Patrick and you’d been in awe. What you hadn’t noticed was that he’d sensed your eyes burning holes into the back of his head long before he turned around. He had given you a passing look of recognition and slight amusement before finding his seat next to Patrick.
You imagined alongside that memory were hundreds others. Hundreds of days you’d stared at Art, watched how he span his apples before eating them and the line of his jaw when he drank water in oppressive heat. All the time he had known, you just hadn’t been as subtle as you thought.
‘Oh.’
Art gave you your foot back and sat on the bed beside you. For a moment you couldn’t bare to look at him, incase he disappeared and decided it was funnier to leave you hanging. Your foot was the least of your worries. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d really kissed someone, with feverish need, but you wanted to.
Noticing your inward battle, Art raised his hands almost in defeat. ‘I can leave.’ He meant it, there was no judgement. You turned to him, your eyes meeting his clouded with lust, and recognised that this was a man who needed to be wanted. He wanted to give and receive pleasure, not out of boredom but out of a clawing need for it. If you wanted him to leave then he’d leave but if you wanted him to stay then he’d make the most of it.
Your hand settled atop of his.
‘Don’t.’
#challengers#challengers fic#mike faist#art donaldson#art Donaldson x reader#art donaldson fan fic#art donaldson fanfic#challengers x reader#challengers art Donaldson#challengers 2024#x reader
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A Mess - Volume 2
Part 1
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Summary: Your early days in Alexandria with Daryl.
Warnings: injury, profanity, smut
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Alexandria was a hard place to get used to, and it was even harder to fit in. Not even a week in and punches had been thrown, lives had been lost, things previously swept under the rug coming to light.
While you were thankful for the walls and the luxuries within, there was nothing you heard more dear to your heart than the peaceful nights you’d spent with Daryl since your arrival.
Once your group was split into two big houses, Daryl was able to lay claim to the basement in one of them, and of course that meant you’d stay there too. With your relationship in full blossom and no longer under wraps, there was no reason not to share a room.
This particular night was one of the best so far. You’d spent most of the night fucking like rabbits, especially with access to hot running water. With bathed bodies, the possibilities and positions were endless. Nothing held you back from devouring each other like rabid beasts.
By the third round, though, you’d both become quite tired, yet still too wound up to sleep. So, you’d just lay there under the covers and chat.
“I still can’t believe Merle was your brother.” You said. “You two are so different.”
“Yeah, well, we didn’t used to be. Used to be just as hot headed as him.” He recalled as his fingers wandered mindlessly through your hair. It was dark in your little basement now, with only the light of the moon casting through the small sliver of a window near the ceiling.
You propped your head up on your hand, fondly admiring your love. He fascinated you. He was always so multifaceted.
“Yeah. I could see it.” You smirked. He shot you a playful glare, not that you could see it so well in the dark.
Nights like those were hard to come by, and somehow always ended sooner than you’d like.
He yawned and slapped a heavy hand over his face, running it down the length of his chin.
“Bout time we got some sleep.” He sighed. With a pout and a groan, you rolled over on your side and got comfortable. He did the same, facing the opposite direction of you, only touching by your intertwined feet at the foot of the bed.
Things just worked this way for a while. Until, of course, shit hit the fan, which it always seemed to do.
When the Wolves attacked, a lot of lives were lost within the community. Had it not been for you and Carol, it probably would have been a lot more. Despite your knack for surviving shitty situations, you didn’t escape this one unscathed. One of the Wolves you took to bat hadn’t gone down so easily. By the time it was all over, when Daryl found you after the chaos had died down, you had a machete lodged through your arm. It went through clean enough, just barely missing anything too important. You did lose a lot of blood, though, and your arm was out of commission for over a week.
After you were all bandaged up at the infirmary, Daryl hovered over you like a cloud. Opening doors, fixing plates, tying shoes. There wasn’t a single thing he’d let you do on your own.
While it was sweet and chivalrous, it got old kind of fast. You hated being debilitated, and you hated being treated as such even more.
You figured at least a shower could be done alone and independently. You snuck off to the bathroom one afternoon and shut the door behind you, wriggling out of your clothes while the water heated up and steamed the room nicely. You took a deep breath and stepped in the hot stream, vowing to release all your frustrations as you bathed. You only had a little while longer to heal, and surely you could manage being babies for just a while longer before you snapped.
While you were trying to find your zen and enjoy some much needed solitude, Daryl had crept in the bathroom to check in and offer help. He shoved the curtain to the side. You jumped and cursed at him; “Daryl, what the fuck?”
“Shouldn’t be showerin’. Can’t get your bandage wet.” He said simply as he shut off the water. The absence of heat made you shiver. You crossed your working arm over your chest and clenched your jaw.
“Daryl. I’m capable of bathing.” You seethed. He ignored your wrathful glare and switched the flow to the faucet before he plugged the drain and motioned for you to sit down. “No.” You pouted.
“C’mon. I’ll leave ya alone after the water fills.” He told you. Reluctantly you relented and sat down, back against the far end of the tub.
He sat on the side of the tub, hunched over, waiting for the water to fill so he could leave, as promised. For a while you just stared at him angrily. Why couldn’t he let you do anything on your own? He had never been so protective before. Sure, when the situation called for it, but now? It didn’t seem like such a threat to take a shower. All these things frustrated you, yet, a faint smile still rigged at the corner of your lips.
Here was a man who had a job, and surely better things to do, yet, every second of free time he had, he dedicated to making sure you were safe and comfortable and taken care of. Had suburban life changed him so much, so fast?
“Wha’s that look for?” He finally asked, noticing your little smile.
“Nothin’.” You shrugged innocently. He turned to you and glared.
“Spit it out.” He demanded.
“It’s just.. You’re so sweet sometimes. Even when it’s annoying.” You teased.
He turned the water off as it covered your body and stood up, staring down at you. His eyes wandered over your bare skin from head to toe.
“Whatever. Jus’ don’t want ya gettin’ an infection or hurtin’ yourself any worse.”
“I can take care of myself, Daryl.” You sighed, shutting your eyes and sinking further into the warm bath while your injured arm remained above the water.
“I know.” He relented. “But that don’t mean ya can’t be taken care of sometimes.”
You opened your eyes again to find him still visually roaming over every dip and curve of your naked body. You smirked.
“Like what ya see?” You taunted in a sultry tone. He ran his tongue over his teeth.
“Don’t get no ideas. Don’t wanna hurt ya.” He said, trying to shut you down before you got him going. It was too late, though, as your free hand had already begun to trail over your breasts and down between your thighs. He watched you for a bit as you teased yourself, his mouth just slightly agape. He often found himself wondering how he bagged such a fine damsel.
As you traced a finger up and down your slit, he sighed and gave in. He crouched down beside you and dunked his hand in the water.
“Need some help?” He offered softly. You grinned and chewed on your bottom lip, pulling your hand back up to your breasts to make room for him.
He wasted no time. His hand found your mound and teased little trails up and down our slit just to watch the way you absentmindedly squirmed for his touch. He always felt a little nervous or self conscious when things started to get heated between you two, but somehow your body language always brought him back down to earth. Your movements always reminded him how badly you wanted him.
He slipped one finger inside you first, curving it and massaging while his thumb rubbed over your clit. You allowed tiny sounds to escape you, trying to be conscious of the others in the home who might be around to hear you.
When the second finger joined the first, you gasped. Your hips moved around rhythmically as they reacted to the pace at which he massaged your sensitive walls.
“Still wanna take care o’ yourself?” He whispered. “Cause I can stop.”
“No.” You whined. “Please.”
He smirked. Truth be told, your neediness was a much welcome contradiction to your irritation with him since you’d hurt your arm.
“But I thought ya—“
He went to keep teasing you but you cut him off again.
“No. No. I don’t. I want this.” You rambled breathlessly as he built you up more and more. It was like there was a coil in your lower half, winding and winding up until it was so tight you couldn’t breath.
He could tell you were getting close so he kept his movements steady.
“Sshhh..” He cooed as your sounds got a little louder. You slapped your free hand over your mouth to muffle your voice as you began to teeter over the edge. Voices could be heard outside the bathroom door as the other dwellers of the house came upstairs and got ready for bed. He could just barely make out someone asking who was in the bathroom taking so long. “Y’almost done?” He whispered. You nodded quickly, hoping he’d take you all the way before someone came knocking.
Right on cue, your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you sucked in a sharp breath. Tremors quacked through you as you let out a shaky moan into your hand. The coil had snapped, and you hadn’t cum that hard in a while.
When your high has simmered back down, he gave you a moment to collect yourself before he was helping you up and drying you down.
“Must’ve needed that.” He smirked. “That attitude o’ yours was gettin’ kinda old.”
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Masterlist // Taglist
tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix
#daryl dixon#daryl x reader#twd daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl x female reader#daryl twd#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl x you#daryl x y/n
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“because it's fun watching you get flustered.”
adapted by ; “my demon” kdrama.
💿 : drunk in love, beyoncé ft. jay-z.
The fight between Jaemin and me had been brewing for days. Tension simmered beneath the surface, waiting to explode at the smallest provocation. It finally did, with a remark from him that was more biting than usual, igniting a storm of angry words between us. His usual cocky smirk faded as I shot back with just as much venom. But then I crossed a line—mentioning something that hit too close to home. Jaemin's eyes turned cold, his jaw clenched, and he grabbed his jacket, leaving the apartment without another word.
The silence that followed was unbearable. The once lively and cozy apartment felt cavernous without him. The cluttered kitchen with his unfinished coffee cups and the living room where he liked to watch late-night dramas with me felt eerily empty. I tried to focus on work, meeting deadlines and attending meetings, but my thoughts kept drifting back to him. His absence was a heavy weight on my chest.
Days passed without a single message or call. It was as if Jaemin had disappeared from my life. I knew he was likely at his company, but I had too much pride to reach out first. I kept telling myself that if he wanted to come back, he would. Yet, every evening, I found myself pacing the living room, glancing at my phone, hoping for a notification that never came.
After a particularly restless night, I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to see him, even if it meant confronting him at his company. I spent extra time getting ready, picking out a tailored black blazer over a crisp white blouse. My skinny jeans hugged my legs, and I wore my favorite black stilettos to add a touch of authority. I was determined to maintain my composure and not let him see how much I was affected by his absence.
The drive to Jaemin's company felt longer than usual. I parked in the underground garage and took the elevator to the main lobby. The building was a towering structure of glass and steel, its modern design gleaming in the evening light. As I stepped out of the elevator, the sheer grandeur of the lobby struck me—white marble floors, high ceilings, and intricate light fixtures that cast a warm glow. A massive chandelier hung in the center, casting patterns of light across the room.
The receptionist recognized me and gave me a polite nod as I walked toward the private elevators leading to the executive offices. The hallway was dimly lit, with black walls contrasting sharply with the brightness of the lobby. It was almost eerie, and my heels echoed loudly as I made my way to Jaemin's office.
His office was behind a large glass door, and as I pushed it open, I was greeted by a room that was both grand and imposing. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a huge leather sofa sat beneath it. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with dark-colored volumes, and a grand piano sat in one corner. The atmosphere was heavy, almost oppressive, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.
Jaemin's CEO desk stood at the far end, a large nameplate reading "Na Jaemin" carved into a metal plaque. Despite the familiar setting, the room felt different—like something had changed. I walked slowly, taking in the scene. The silence was overwhelming, and I could almost hear my own heartbeat. As I approached the bookshelves, my fingers grazed along the spines of the books. Everything was meticulously arranged, each book perfectly aligned.
One book, in particular, caught my eye—a dark green volume that seemed slightly out of place. I reached to pull it from the shelf, but as I did, a hand pushed it back forcefully, making my heart jump. I turned, startled, and there was Jaemin, standing just inches away.
He looked different from the last time I'd seen him. His jet-black hair was wet, falling across his forehead, and he wore a blue cardigan with gray sweatpants. His chest was exposed, revealing his chiseled abs. His eyes had a dangerous glint, and he crossed his arms as he stared at me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and edged with annoyance.
I swallowed, trying to regain my composure. "I came to see why you haven't been home," I replied, attempting to sound confident despite the racing of my heart.
Jaemin's lips curled into a smirk. "I figured you needed some space to cool off," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You seemed pretty angry last time we talked."
"That's because you were being impossible," I shot back, my irritation rising. "You just left without a word!"
He shrugged, still maintaining that infuriating smirk. "Maybe I needed a break from the constant nagging," he retorted.
I felt my temper flare, but I kept it in check. "So, is this what you do when you need a break? Lock yourself in your office?" I gestured around the room, emphasizing the emptiness.
Jaemin's smirk widened. "It's quiet here. No one to bother me," he said, his tone teasing.
I crossed my arms, not willing to back down. "Well, it's time to stop hiding and come back home," I said firmly. "Or do you plan on staying here forever?"
Jaemin's eyes flickered with amusement. "Maybe I will," he said with a playful shrug. "I kind of like it here."
I was about to retort when I noticed the golden necklace around his neck—a demon face pendant that seemed almost out of place given his casual attire. It was a stark contrast to his otherwise relaxed look. Jaemin followed my gaze and raised an eyebrow.
"Pervert," he said with a smirk, noticing I had been staring at his abs.
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, but I quickly regained my composure. "Why do you have to make everything into a joke?" I shot back, my irritation showing.
Jaemin chuckled softly. "Because it's fun watching you get flustered," he replied, his voice smooth and teasing.
I took a step back, crossing my arms in defiance. "Fine, then stay here if you want," I said, turning to leave. "But don't expect me to come running after you again."
I reached for the door, but it was locked. I frowned and tried to turn the doorknob again, but it wouldn't budge. Jaemin leaned against the bookshelves, watching me with amusement.
"Why'd you lock the door?" I demanded, my frustration growing.
"Because I knew you'd try to leave without a proper conversation," he said, his tone almost playful.
I felt my anger boiling over. "Unlock it now," I insisted, my voice sharp. "Or I'll scream."
Jaemin laughed softly. "Scream all you want," he said, his eyes gleaming. "No one's here except us."
I was about to yell when Jaemin teleported in front of me, his hand wrapping around my waist and his other hand covering my mouth. The sudden closeness made my heart race, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. His eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the hint of golden light in them—a sign of his demon nature.
"Shh," he whispered, his voice low and gentle. "I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't mean to hurt you."
His hand slid from my mouth to my waist, pulling me closer. I could feel his heart beating against my chest, and the intensity of his gaze was overwhelming. I stuttered, trying to keep my cool. "It's fine," I said softly. "Just... let me go. I'll wait for you at home."
Jaemin hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching mine. But then he released me, stepping back with a slight smile. "We'll see if I come back," he said, teasingly. "Don't get your hopes up."
I rolled my eyes and turned to unlock the door, feeling my cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger. "Whatever," I muttered, opening the door and storming out. As I walked down the hallway, I could still feel his touch on my waist, and my heart was racing from the encounter.
The drive back home was filled with a mix of emotions—anger, confusion, and something else I couldn't quite place. The way Jaemin had held me, the intensity of his gaze—it was different from the way he had been during our arguments. It was almost tender, yet still teasing in his own infuriating way.
When I arrived back at the apartment, I felt a surge of frustration. I had expected him to be contrite, to apologize and agree to come home, but he was as infuriatingly confident as ever. I wasn't sure if he was coming back, and that uncertainty gnawed at me. Despite my anger, I knew that if he showed up at the door, I wouldn't be able to turn him away.
But Jaemin was unpredictable, and I wasn't sure what he would do next. Would he stay at his company, enjoying the solitude and quiet, or would he come back to our shared home, ready to make amends? As I sat in the empty apartment, waiting, I knew one thing for sure—Jaemin had a way of keeping me on edge, and I hated that I couldn't seem to stay angry at him for long.
#jaemin#na jaemin#jaemin imagine#jaemin fluff#jaemin ff#jaemin scenario#nct dream imagine#nct dream fluff#nct dream#kpop
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#art#hollow knight#hk the last stag#hk the old stag#hk ghost#hk the knight#uhhhh#this took far longer than it was meant to
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I’ll never get there, but if I put the work in, maybe I’ll get close enough that I can chase just behind perfection — and have a front-row seat as you achieve it.
Chapter 20, Cultivate by @neonghostcat
#you achieved it alongside him hon 🥹#svsss#liushen#liu qingge#shen yuan#this was meant for ch52 but I took longer than expected lol#I had lots of thoughts about that particular scene#how it all had come full circle from SY’s promise to the fulfillment of that promise#then I spent far too long trying to find the orig scene lmao#how he went from ‘I’ll only be able to follow in your footsteps’#to literally fighting side by side#battle couple goals#scum villain#svsss art#fanfic fanart#my art#(I needed another excuse to draw the guandao lmao)#and I had so much fun sketching out the composition for this 😊#battle couple
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forgot to post these whoops
#bonk.txt#exocolonist spoilers#pmmm spoilers#<- for exactly one of these lmao#exocolonist#teenage exocolonist#i was a teenage exocolonist#the only one of these that is like actually finished is the sol 🤝 homura one n the other two arent getting finished cause i got a new phon#so i no longer have like the files for them lmao#nomi nomi was drawn like the day before halloween i drew them cause i originally was gonna draw dys to go with them#cause their friendship means the world to me i love that dys chose to start wearing those gamer gaulets to match with nomi nomi#but this was pretty much as far as i got i changed the lineart color to purple cause it looked better but i dont have a good image of that1#the 'your parents named you' one was actually the first fanart i ever drew the original sketch of it was made like on september 16th ithink#n i worked on n off again for a week on it before deciding i didnt like it n never touched it again wait forgot to tag#undescribed#anyway the sol 🤝 homura run was drawn on october 20th cause i realized that the way i was playing the game i always maxxed out hearts with#tammy first n just generally took her side on everything n went wait a second#genuinely meant to post these a while ago after i got my new phone but forgot to asfjhejdjdj#none of these are in the same style cause im not consistent n have trouble drawing characters that arent my ocs#if u look for more than a second at sol 🤝 homura you'll notice i forgot to draw homura's other arm n i never fixed it#bonk.png
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A silent, unintimidating winter chill lies over the Silverglade village.
The rising sun warms up the snow-covered roofs one after the other, and the meltwater dripping off their edges slowly forms icicles that reach toward the ground like outstretched, yearning hands. Occasionally, too heavy to bear its own weight anymore, one will break off, tumbling towards the ground and shattering on someone’s snow-covered wooden front porch or the grass outside their house.
At the edge of the village, by a small cluster of trees, a drop of water falls from a roof and lands on the crown of your head, extraordinarily cold even in the midwinter air. Shuddering, you lean back against the sun-warmed, red wall behind you, tilting your head back to bask in the bright midday sun; your horse, next to you, snorts and buffs its muzzle against your arm, and you reach up to scratch under its chin. It puffs out a breath, forming a small cloud of mist that turns a warm, golden shade as the sunlight hits it, and then it pulls back and raises its head, muscles freezing up, eyes widening, and ears pointing sharply in all directions.
Something is wrong.
There is a loud crack, as if the surface of Earth itself were being torn open, and an ear-splitting scream, followed then by crack upon crack and scream upon scream as the village lights up in pinks and purples and the sky darkens. The village plaza turns in mere seconds from a peaceful, quiet place into what is best described as a nightmare: the ground, indeed, is opening up, cobblestones rising like small mountain ranges and giving way to a blinding pink light that seems to reach all the way into the suddenly clouded sky. Many are closing their curtains and blinds, some staying at the window and carefully peeking outside; others are attempting to run from the plaza, instead taking to the streets and alleys of the village, only to be met with more of the horror they escaped. It does not take long for the shadows, large as a horse and with two glowing, almost eye-like red dots at the centre of their shapeless bodies, to begin pouring out of the village’s open wounds, wandering around as if in search for something. There is no longer so much as a single curious eye peeking out between a pair of curtains.
Something dark, glinting with red, rushes past you where you sit pressed against the blood-red wall. Determination pushes aside the dread threatening to pour over you, and with your heart still in your throat, adrenaline pulsing through your veins, and something immensely powerful crackling and sparking in the palm of your right hand, you mount your horse and gallop towards the village plaza.
#sso#ssoblr#star stable#star stable online#jorvikpov#Today in 'posts I started writing months ago that still took me longer than usual to finish up during the week':#As a minor apology for 'this was actually meant to be posted Tuesday' you guys get a fun fact!#In my Jorvikpov document with all the prompts for all the posts thus far and all the posts to come‚#this one is titled ''Silverglade Village‚ overcome with terror''#(It is for sure one of the better and more concise prompts. Last week's prompt was 60 words long.)
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Chapters: 10/12
Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Characters: Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion's Mouse Friends
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Humor, Fluff, Banter, not quite enemies to lovers but almost, more like, Annoying Strangers to Friends to Lovers, so i guess, Strangers to Lovers, with some, Friends to Lovers, for the Geraskier, Prison, Hurt Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Whump, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Jaskier refuses to shut up, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Ray of Sunshine, Jaskier | Dandelion Lacks Self-Preservation Instincts, Original Mouse Characters - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Mutual Pining, Minor Violence, Near Death Experiences, Rescue, Cuddling & Snuggling, Poetry, original lyrics, and also lyrics lifted directly from the show, I contain multitudes
Summary:
When Yennefer is thrown in a cell to await execution, the last thing she wants is a cellmate. She gets one anyway: one who is loud, annoying, and convinced that he will be rescued by a witcher. She expects his company to make her miserable. She does not expect it to slowly become bearable, to grow fond of him, or to want to help him — and the last thing she anticipates is that the rescue might actually happen.
Or: Yennefer and Jaskier meet in a dungeon. It goes, all things considered, surprisingly well.
~
Chapter ten, in which there are pining, conversations, and a song!
#the witcher#geraskefer#geralt#jaskier#yennefer#yennskier#yenskier#sometimes it takes a prison cell#wren writes#it took far longer than i meant it to but an update is here!!
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fountain pens for each of the superfriends ready set go!!!
How dare you merge two hyperfixations into the perfect inbox bait that cannot be ignored. Shame on you. ALRIGHT LET'S DO IT.
In this universe everybody uses fountain pens because why the heck not.
I think I covered a couple of these before, but let's ignore all of that and start anew(ish). We'll take it one at a time because it's a LOT.
spoiler alert I got tired and didn't include a bunch I had thought of so welp
Lena Luthor: Pelikan Souverän Anthracite
We've been over this one, even if I've gone back and forth on several pens for Lena, but this is always one of my favourites. This is the perfect CEO-style pen to wag over Clark Kent's face when he brings up the 'Ah, but it's not, it's Luthor' thing. Perfect placeholder for the blue pen she inevitably gets later for. Reasons.
Kara Danvers: Karas Kustoms
Listen, just the perfect name aside (yes, this is a real brand!), I feel like Kara would need something sturdy, nigh indestructible, for the obvious reasons. Maybe the DEO could arrange for one of these made of N metal or whatever that's called.
Alex Danvers: Pilot Vanishing Point (matte black)
Alex doesn't have time for your shit, my shit, or anyone's shit because she's got too much shit going on with a superhero sister, a dubious government organization, aliens, and being a big ol' gay. She does not have time for this capping and uncapping nonsense, so she gets a clicky fountain pen for optimum efficiency. Additionally, I like to think that Alex, like me, would also click this thing incessantly because who needs therapy when you have a clicky pen?!
J'onn J'onnz: Diplomat Elox Green/Black
OK, I have no backstory for this one. This pen just looked COOL. I feel like it fits both DEO J'onn and the Martian Manhunter. Though I guess when he becomes a private eye he switches to something more understated, like a Schon DSGN Black Ultem.
Nia Nal: Pilot Metropolitan (Retro Pop)
These are just fun. Nia's fun. That's pretty much my rationale for it. I also think she'd have a whole bunch of them (since they're excellent but inexpensive!) to collect all colours (and because she keeps misplacing them). At first I thought Nia would collect all the Lamy Safari colours, but these seemed to suit her better. At some point Lena gifts her a Sailor Pro Gear special edition (something colorful, naturally!)
Brainy: Lamy 2000 (stainless Steel)
Brainy will never admit he likes fountain pens (he keeps saying he's far too advanced for such a primitive thing) but he falls in love with the modern/futuristic design of the Lamy 2000 and has to sheepishly ask Nia to recommend some cool inks to go with it.
She gives him bright pink and they both love it. All DEO memos are pink thereafter.
Kelly Olsen: Sailor Pro Gear (Green)
I kept going back and forth over several options, but finally landed on this pen because I get the feeling Kelly would take a ton of notes professionally, so she would need a) a professional pen and b) a comfortable nib. She'd be very methodical with her note-taking and Alex would drive her bonkers with her incessant clicking with the Pilot!
Hope you enjoyed this insanity, sorry I gave up. But here you are, Super Pen Friends edition!
#anon#ask naralanis and maybe she'll deign to respond#pen talk#nara talks pens#supergirl#fountain pen#superfriends#honestly this took far longer than expected#meant to add winn and others but alas
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so..
dream smp superhero/villain aus, am i right
recently(as in, about a few hours ago at the time of first writing this), i just had the sudden urge to just.. write a whole essay about this topic. and like, who am i to not bend to the will of my own mind?
so, strap in, and prepare yourself for me rambling a bunch about how people write plot twists and identity reveals in these kinds of fics(this is gonna be mostly, if not all, positive, if i may add).
(also, quick little disclaimer, for anyone who sees this who doesn’t know of me(which, fair), yes i will be writing in italics the whole time — it’s just a thing i do. just letting y’all know now jandkdndjd.)
now, i’m sure we all know, or at least have heard of the superhero/villain fics, of which there are many, that us dream smp fic writers have latched onto. we all know of the fic that, while may not have invented it, has definitely popularized it — tommyinnit’s unbeatable method. while i myself have never read it fully — got a little bit too crack, for my personal tastes, and pure angst has never been my forte, either (but to each their own, of course!) — i cannot deny the effect it had on this fandom, and i, for one, absolutely love it.
i’m not here to simply talk about the super fics(which is what i shall be calling them from now on, for simplicity's sake) in general, however. no no, here, i want to focus on something specific, something that typically is the main thing that draws one in to this kind of fic.
that is to say, as i’m sure you already know if you’ve read the intro.. the identity reveal, as well as just plot twists in general.
now, i could really have used any sort of fandom to use as an example here, but the dream smp is the first fandom that comes to my mind when i think about this — plus, well, dsmp fics are the only kind of fics i’ve been reading recently, so.. haha, yeah.
so, let’s get this straight, right out of the bat — it’s incredibly obvious to a reader who exactly the supposedly hidden identities are supposed to be. most fic writers, and do note i say this with love, i promise; are not all that great with coming up with original names. when i read a fic, i know that siren is wilbur, that the blade/blood god is techno, and that the angel of death is philza. and while those are the most common names to see, there are more that alert one to their true identities, as well: orpheus, whippoorwill, jubilee, zepherus, crowfather..
(dude i looked so hard(not really) to find other common names ppl use for techno but i could not find any.. either they use blade/blood god or they’re using a unique name or something else that isn’t used much by people.. in which case kudos for them.)
that isn’t to say that most official superhero media have great names, though. i mean.. captain america? ironman? spider-man? batman? whole lot of blank-man’s..
but, well.. for the people who know the characters well(which, well.. if you’re reading the fic, chances are, you’re gonna know the characters), it’s pretty obvious who’s who from the get-go.
but..
that isn’t really.. the point of these fics.
while it isn’t unwelcome to be in the dark about certain people’s identities(or at the least, have semi-original names),, that’s not the point.
the point is to see how all the characters interact with each other.
and.. it’s to see how they react to the reveal.
because, while the reader may know who the character’s real identities, the characters themselves don’t. and that, folks, that’s why most of you lot read them.
if not because of their names, then the summary often clues you in on what exactly you’re reading — that is, typically, an identity reveal between either a civilian or vigilante tommy, and a hero or villain trio of techno, phil, and wilbur; with some sort of extra spice thrown in to make it unique. what that is can vary, either tommy and gang are some sort of experiments, or are otherwise wanted by a not-so-good group, or maybe a different, just-as-good(that is to say, not as good) group is causing mayhem, and everyone around them has to pick up the pieces while keeping secrets locked tight. maybe nothing is as it seems at first glance, or maybe tommy is a kid with a power who heals the wrong(or right) person.
there are a ton of ways you can take this to keep it from going stale — and even if a fic is just like those that come before it, well.. two cakes is always better than one, you know?
brief fic plugging aside, and to reiterate a previous point.. it’s the characters’ reactions that drive a fic forward, not just their secrets.
a great example of this in a popular media is in this show, i don’t know if you all would have heard of it, it’s called, uh.. lemme think real quick...... oh yes, the owl house.
jokes aside, the owl house does provide a wonderful example of what exactly i’m talking about. major spoilers for the show for the next few paragraphs, for those who haven’t watched it — which, i highly recommend doing so, for it is very good. the start is a bit weak, i will admit, but the rest of the show absolutely makes up for it. definitely gets better halfway through the first season, if not a bit earlier than that.
(warning this went of for way too long,, woops djndkdjd)
now — and forgive me if i get a couple details wrong, it’s been a hot second since i’ve seen the earlier episodes — in season two, luz, with amity’s help, comes across a book, one written by a human who was previously trapped in the demon realm, just like luz is currently — you know, after she destroyed the only portal door they had to keep belos, the show’s main antagonist, from getting his hands on it. and apparently, he was building a portal door to the human realm — and was presumably successful.
so over the next few episodes, they build up this human, named phillip wittebane, as a fairly nice and smart guy. mans is just trying to get home, you know? and as luz reads the book, she begins to idolize phillip a bit. she follows his instructions, and eventually, she manages to rebuild the portal.
it uh, fails.. but that’s a story for another day.
she goes back to the book, and finds out phillip needed to go consult this being called the collector — who is important but not to this essay — and luz assumes he needed to find him to help with the portal.
with help from her aunt, lilith, she manages to go back in time(don’t ask how that’s not important), and find phillip. they team up, and adventure to find this macguffin that’s used to summon the collector.
good news! they find the macguffin.
bad news? uh.. phillip, isn’t quite as nice as was first believed. in fact, he happily tries to sacrifice his new companions in order to get away with the macguffin.
the two manage to get away, and end up confronting phillip once more — which ends with lilith punching phillip in the face, hell yeah girl!
but once they return to their own time, well.. the show cuts back to phillip, and..
it’s revealed that he’s belos, who is, if i may reiterate, the show’s main antagonist.
fans theorized about this for a while now, but this was the first time it was confirmed.
but folks, we’re not done with the owl house talk yet!! (i promise this is relevant okay the toh talk will be over soon).
so, it was revealed to the audience that phillip was belos..
but the cast, all they know is that phillip is a bitch. for all they know, phillip was a human, and belos is a witch.
but this all changes when the episode hollow mind airs.
luz and hunter — the golden guard, belos’ right hand, and supposedly his nephew — end up traveling into belos’ mind(again don’t ask it’s not important).
they end up falling deeper into his mind, and find out all the terrible things belos has done(which absolutely crushes hunter’s mindset, as he was advocating for his uncle earlier, poor kid) — launch an attack on a witch town, claiming it was by wild witches; horrifically kill a bunch of witches with a test version of the sigil system(well, they were still alive when we last saw them, but they were in agony, and i wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up dying a while after), and literally murder his own fucking brother.
and if that wasn’t enough, turns out? he cloned said brother. and then had to kill that clone when they fell out of line. rinse and repeat for the next, oh,, four hundred fucking years.
icing on the cake? hunter is a clone — or a grimwalker, as the show calls it. which, in of itself is another great example of the fans knowing something before the characters, but if i touched in it deeper this section would be longer, and y’all probably came here for the dsmp talk,, jdnkdmidj.
anyway, luz ends up getting confronted by belos — or rather, inner belos, but if you haven’t seen the show you don’t need to worry about the difference — and this.. this is where he reveals his true identity to luz.
and were this a lesser show, this would probably be very underwhelming for fans. like, c’mon, dude, we already knew that, give us something new.
but, again.. this wasn’t a reveal for the fans. this was for the characters.
and by god, did they deliver on that.
luz, who was already kicking herself for idolizing the prick that was phillip, now has to deal with the fact that, not only was she idolizing belos, albeit his past self, but she also helped him.
so, all this to say.. plot twists don’t need to be a surprise to have a reaction.
now, i just accidentally made like half of this essay so far about owl house, which, in a thing that’s supposed to be for, well.. you know, not the owl house.. probably not a good thing?
so, well.. how about i spend the rest of this time talking about a fic that i believe handles plot twists really well — that is, both ones that a surprise to the audience, and ones that aren’t.
let’s talk about.. tommyinnit’s services for villains, vigilantes, and various other vagabonds by scorpionoesit.
that’s right, folks, this whole post was secretly an advertisement for vagabonds this whole time!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! YOU WERE FOOOOOOOOOOOOLED.
[coughs].
anyway.
in my opinion, vagabonds perfectly handles both types of twists.
for those who haven’t read it before, the TLDR of the fic is that tommy is just.. some guy, who ends up helping all sorts of people, be that civilians, vigilantes, the mafia.. even villains and heroes.
granted, we haven’t seen the latter two yet, but it’s only a matter of time!
and usually, these sorts of fics would have tommy have some sort of healing powers, like tommyinnit’s clinic for supervillans by bonesandthebees, which i linked earlier. but.. this fic doesn’t do that.
that isn’t to say fics that do have him use healing powers aren’t good — for one, have you seen tommyinnit’s clinic, or like- literally any other fic like it? and two, the last thing i want to do is talk down in writers for using tropes, even if they seem overused. once again, i’d like to bring attention to the two cakes theory.
but, i do have to admit.. it is refreshing.
i could explain his power, but tommy puts it together better than anyone could, over in the second chapter. the tldr of it, though, is information. which.. doesn’t sound all that good, until you see what he can get up to in the fic. i won’t spoil much(i say, knowing i’m going to spoil so many other things),, so if you’re really interested in knowing, and haven’t already, i’d say check out the fic!
and, just to state again, i’m gonna be going over some things that are spoilers for the fic, so either go and read the fic, or proceed with caution. and if you’ve already read the fic before, hell yeah!! take a peanut butter cookie.
now, as i’ve said before, there are some things — mainly characters — in this fic that are pretty obvious to a dream smp fan — which, as stated before, is not a bad thing.
there’s the vigilante orion, who’s stated to have a “large red cape” and a boar skull — who you can immediately pin down as techno from that description alone. and then, when tommy mentions a protégé of orion’s, who just know he’s talking about ranboo(technosensei for the winnnnn).
then we have masquerade, who, if not from his name(presumably being a reference to one of the tftsmp episodes), or his power(semi-time travel and portals), then by his outfit, we can say safely that he’s karl.
the hero marauder, even if you haven’t seen that name used for her before, is also pretty clear to be puffy, seeing that she’s stated to be dream’s mother.
and the author isn’t hiding their identities, either — in fact, they want you to know. because trust me, you’ll know when they’re attempting to hide it. or, well.. not quite hide it, but they aren’t giving any obvious clues, either.
jägerbomb is a villain that hasn’t shown up much, beyond a few mentions here or there, but even his identity can be found, if you know where to look. there’s the fact that jägerbomb is a type of cocktail, and the fact that, apparently, his power causes him to not be liked a lot by micheal(who, for those who don’t know, uh.. doesn’t have good parents, to say the least). all this to say, well.. there’s only one person in the dream smp that’s so obviously connected to alcohol. jschlatt.
schlatt, though, even through his minor appearances, can still be found out(unless we’re wrong but like.. [points at the villain jschlatt tag] we’re.. probably not). but, what if there’s a person who isn’t so obvious?
enter, geyser. or, sewage boy, as he’s more commonly known as.
at first glance, especially at the latter name, you’d probably think, like.. they’re charlie, right? which.. sounds plausible, until you take into account their power. manipulation of water — or, more specifically,, steam. which, well.. probably not charlie, then? especially considering he shows up later in chapter three, with.. you know, not steam powers.
when looking into at sewage boy’s identity by focusing purely on their powers, there’s.. not many people you could pin to them. maybe foolish, but, if anything, he’d be related to water, not steam. boomer, mayhaps? i don’t know much about him, but he’s like, some frog guy, right? again, still related to water, not steam. and while this fic was first posted a bit after he joined, i can only assume that it was planned out beforehand, so.. again, probably not him.
again, looking purely at their steam powers, or their name,, doesn’t really reveal anything about their identity.
but.. if you look deeper.. it can be done.
looking at their powers at the surface, as i’ve said before, doesn’t help much. but.. their powers isn’t just steam — or, well.. it is, but they can do more than just control steam.
specifically, in the fic, it’s said that they can, and i quote..
“..turn all the surrounding water...into steam so fast that the steam so fast that the expanding pressure could and would rupture every pipe in the vicinity with an explosion powerful enough to level every building in the area.”
and, i should mention, just a few paragraphs before that quote, he’s said to wear a trench coat.
folks, is there any sort of character that comes to mind when you think of explosions and trench coats?
that’s right, the one and only wilbur soot.
now, personally, when i first saw this theory, i shot it down real quick. knowing what we know about him and his son, fundy, back when chapter two first came out(which is it’s own can of worms), i thought it didn’t make too much sense. if wilbur wanted to protect fundy, yeah, i could see him being a villain, but.. wouldn’t it make more sense to just.. lay low?
but.. then i saw more and more evidence leaning towards it. the first two things i mentioned, as well as the fact that he is absolutely down to murder a kid because he might threaten his son’s safety — something i assume someone who is willing to become a villain would do.
plus, well.. all we know about wilbur’s power is that he needs to charge it, which.. makes sense if he needs to summon steam to use in a fight.
and then there’s the fact that both wilbur and fundy are a bit weird about sewage boy — specifically when wilbur finds out tommy and tubbo went to fight between orion and sewage boy.
“But the Lower is dangerous, Niki,” Wilbur argued. He glanced at Fundy for a second before continuing. “There was a massive villain attack just down the street last week!”
Fundy glared at him instantly. “Really, Dad? That’s your argument?”
…
“That attack was a major outlier, dude,” Tommy argued. “Besides, I was there, and I got away literally without a scratch.”
...
“You were what?” Wilbur yelped, at the same time Fundy yelled, “Wait, you guys actually went?!”
Tommy turned to Fundy, confused. “Yeah? We said we were going as we left, we weren’t exactly hiding it.”
Wilbur turned Fundy. “Why didn’t you stop them?”
Fundy turned a fierce glare on his dad. “I’m sorry, I was a little busy freaking out over why the fuck Sewage Boy was in the Lower.”
...
Wilbur suddenly looked sheepish. “F-Fair point.”
so.. yeah, i am definitely on the side of sewage boy = wilbur soot now.
(also there’s the fact that villain wilbur is literally in the tags but shhhhhh this is the more fun way)
all this to say, well.. uhh. something something plot twists.
okay i’ll be honest this deviated a little bit from my original point but uh. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.
and all of that,, is just the stuff from the first two chapters. and it’s not even everything there is. we’ve got tubbo’s stuff, i’ve only kind of mentioned ranboo, micheal is lovely, clementine is the best character, tommy’s got a whole thing, and.. [gestures at fundy] yeah.
and then there’s the stuff in the third chapter. this fic isn’t even done yet we’re not even halfway done yet.
i could go on for so long about this fic. like i didn’t even get into the non-superhero/villain related foreshadowed stuff. eret’s powers,, niki’s connections.. and like, duuuuuude i could ramble so much about the fucking implications of the peanut butter cookies. was thinking about those implications since like the first week of may.
but i’ve rambled for far to long, and at this point it’s only vaguely related to my original point. so i should really wrap this up by now, hahaha.
so, tldr.... the best plot twists and identity reveals aren’t always reliant on the audience being surprised as well, character reactions are important as well; the owl house is a good show, and read vagabonds.
#zecori rambles#dream smp#my writing#<< i guess??#dude you don’t know how long it took me to format this#wrote it originally in a google doc; pasted it here; and had to redo Everything#PLUS… i had to italicize the whole post…. the work i make myself put up with /lh#tumblr mobile only lets me edit things a paragraph at a time H#anyway woops i meant to have the vagabonds bit link a bit more into my og point#but uh. i mean if you squint-#..yeah okay this entire thing was just an excuse to ramble about vagabonds jsjdkjfknffk my bad#but ngl tho; i would absolutely love to see a legitimate#-essay about the superhero/villain trope (whoops hit enter too early)#it’s genuinely neat to see how the fandom just flocked for it after unbeatable method#and the stories i’ve seen…… i won’t claim to have read all of them; or even a significant portion; but of those i have…. they are good#also also whoops the toh portion of the thing took up longer than i wanted it to jfjfkfjfif. sorry i like to talk a lot rkjdkfj#not tagging it bc they don’t need to see dsmp stuff in their place dkjdkdjdkdj#anyway i don’t expect this to get far but to those who did read it: i hope you enjoyed it. have a s’mores cupcake#also it’s 10:30 at night so i should sleep
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⤷❝Can't be Shared | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-
⇢☾Warning: NSFW | somnophilia, mentions of prostitution (Snow was going to 'share' you) cunnilingus, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), possessive af Snow, impact play (he slaps your thigh once), ruined orgasm (you do cum in the end) | lmk if I forgot anything!
⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader
⇢☾Summary: Snow was going to share you with the elite of the Capitol but changed his mind halfway through only to have his way with you and make you the First Lady of Panem
⇢☾A/N: hehe, the longest fic I have writing so far, hope y'all enjoy this and reblog ;)
<masterlist> < bc: @cafekitsune >
He thought he would be okay with it. He was sure he would be okay with it. But he wasn't. Snow's blood boiled when the rich elitist of the capitol had begun to touch you, whisper you praises, and whatnot. The only thing that was going in his mind was his, his, his.
When had he gotten so attached, he wasn't supposed to be. Letting them touch you, and play with you was a strategic decision to get them hooked and you weren't meant to be his Queen but something had changed. Something snapping in him when the Capitols’ richest eyed you like a meal.
His jaw was clenched and he cleared his throat, “I changed my mind.” He said, “I am not sharing after all.”
You are his. His property. His bird locked in his cage and now his Queen. He pulled you closer, away from prying hands. He glared, memorizing the face of any and everyone displeased, thinking of plans of how to dispose of them quickly because even if briefly they had touched you that was a sin. No one taints the Queen but a King.
He cordially finishes dinner, keeping in mind he was a president, a newly appointed one at that even if he wanted to he couldn't drag you into his room and have his way with you. But he wanted to. His free hand is on your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave a small bruise. His hold gets tighter the more he has to smile pretty and act polite.
You hadn't said a word, you weren't sure what to say. You were ready to be shared, used, and then discarded. Snow had told you of this beforehand, but he had changed his mind and you were grateful.
Even as he marked you, made you whimper with his grip, giving your thigh a warning squeeze to be quiet. You were relieved that he decided not to share. You were his, you liked that you were his.
Dinner took longer than you would have preferred, but when it finally came to an end, Snow leaned into you and whispered, “Be on my bed wearing my shirt and nothing else, my bird.”
You didn't reply. You get up, walking into his room, heat choking your veins and making your pussy ache and wet. You close the door as you reach the master bedroom of the manor.
Going into his closet you picked on a red shirt, knowing that it would match your skin tone well. You had taken everything else off, your panties and previous clothes on the floor. You were in full display as you didn't even button up the shirt. Your breasts are exposed to the cold air making your nipples harden.
You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come. One minute bleeds into ten and you laid down on the bed. One hour turns to several and your eyes close up. Sleep catches up with you.
You woke up with a gasp. Sleep at the edge of your mind but your mouth lets out a moan wantonly as several things hit you at once.
One. Snow was here.
Two. Snow was between your thighs, his hands keeping your thighs wide and spread for him.
Three. His lips were on your clit, sucking it vigorously making you arch your back and wanting to flinch away from the intensity.
And you tried to move away, your bud sensitive more with pain than in pleasure. How long was Snow like this, sucking at your clit. Your pussy was now impossibly slick and throbbing, wanting to be filled.
A slap was delivered onto your thigh, a hitched moan leaving your lips because of the delicious pain. “Behave,” Snow sneers at you, his blue eyes looking ravenous, his face smeared with your arousal. This was Snow? You thought for a brief second. For once he felt like a man brought down to his knees by a woman instead of something untouched.
“Sorry,” you gasp out as he dives into your cunt. His tongue drew circles onto your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing. You never thought Snow would be sloppy at anything, you thought wrong because his breathing was loud, warn air of his pants grazing your sex. His stubble brushed against your sex as all of his attention was overstimulating your clit.
He finally lost interest as you cried out that you were close just by him playing with your clit for who knows how long. It hurt. It felt good. Perfect, delicious pleasure and pain. You were dizzy, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.
He leaves your clit alone, but his tongue finds its way to the rest of your pussy. His tongue traces your folds, your slit, and the inside of your walls. Leaving no parts of your cunt untouched by his mouth. He was licking every drop of your juices, all the while he made you wetter.
Your hands were fisted into the sheets, your hips subtly moving for friction. A notion that was stopped with a squeeze of his hand on your thigh. You were brought to your high, so close to the edge you would fall in a second as moans spilled from your lips.
Only for that to be snatched away as Snow moved away. You cry out, “No! Please!” But Snow merely raised an unamused eyebrow while his hand wiped his mouth. “Snow, please,” you whispered, feeling the heat and the high of your lost orgasm.
He lets out a scoff as he sees your desperate state. “My meal is finished,” he merely said. His hand takes off the red suit, the same color as your (his) shirt. His fingers unbutton his white shirt, revealing his toned physique. Those same hands now unzipped his pants, his boxer down to the floor revealing a hard cock. The well-rounded tip leaking pre-cum.
“But I am not done with you yet,” he muses, as he moves in closer. You were sitting up now and his hand was on your nape.
“I don't think I'll ever be done with you,” he whispers, the words sealing a promise of forever. “Don't be,” you whispered back, leaning to catch his lips. Your arms around his shoulders to pull him on top of you, to feel his weight, his skin against yours.
Primal instincts take over you both as you kiss. Desperate whimpers and deep groans could be heard and his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Making it bleed and making him suck your blood into his mouth. He pulls back with a gasp, his eyes wide, his lips swollen. His taste was of a dessert you couldn't name. Addictive and delicious.
His left hand was on your cheek, another still on your nape. His thumb brushes your cheek in a manner of caring. “You're the Queen of Panem now,” he announces, making your heart jump in surprise. “The First Lady of Panem.”
With that, he seals his words with a kiss. Soft and ravishing, his tongue explores your mouth. Your hand is in his hair, the blonde locks between your fingers as you kiss back with everything you have.
“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing with yours, “My bird in a cage. My property.”
“I'll make sure everyone at Capitol knows it,” he said, his eyes looking at you with the ferality of an animal stripped to his bare instincts. “Is that understood, my bird?” He asked.
The answer couldn't be anything but yes. So you replied exactly that and he grins. He looked beautiful in that moment, his charms coming out making you even more needy.
You pulled him in for another kiss, his lips smiling against yours as both of your tongues tangled. His hand lowered itself and cupped your cunt. His fingers trace your entrance and you whimper into his mouth but he doesn't breach in.
He gathers your arousal on his digits, and he pulls back from the kiss to take the digits into his mouth. After sucking his fingers clean, he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself.
His hands pushed you down on the bed, your legs on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, taking you in, his bird being such a pretty mess.
He placed a kiss on your thigh that was unbelievably soft that for a moment you didn't believe it was action done by Snow's lip but the harsh bite of his mouth marking the skin of your inner thigh proved otherwise.
He leaned down, his hand in your hand above your head. Your free hand dug into his shoulder, forming crescent marks that made him groan, a choked-off desperate sound that you wanted more of.
All the while he placed his cockhead right at your entrance. You gasp as you feel the tip slip inch by inch into your velvety warmth. You wondered if he was going so slow because he wanted you to adjust to his length. However, one look at his face told you were wrong. His blonde strands clinging to his forehead, his lips parted and letting out hot breaths all the while his eyes closed shut, his eyebrows furrowed as he buried his dick into your cunt with the slow pace.
The reason he was going slow was because he wasn't sure if he could last and fuck, that got into your head. Birds are little teasers and you were no different so you clenched around him. His length half pushed in and felt your pulsing cunt wrapping itself tighter around him.
His eyes fall open as he lets out a grunt of surprise and pleasure, “Fuck.” His icy eyes glare at you, “Don't.” Your pussy only clenched further in reply and his hold gets harder, pressing your hand into the mattress as he sank in completely without a warning. “Ah!” You let out in surprise, the stretch painfully perfect.
“Take it,” he whispered to you, his lip biting your earlobe before he dragged his mouth to the pulse of your neck to mark you up properly as his property. His hips now beginning to move, calculated and controlled just like every other action of Snow. Every thrust hits your g-spot relentlessly, making you gasp and moan, back arching in pleasure.
“Gentlemen make their women cum but you're not a woman. You're my property but I am merciful so cum. Cum on my cock untouched, my bird.” He groans into your ear as his pace gets faster, a tad bit of desperation creeping in as his hips slam into you without a care. You could only moan in reply, truth is you didn't need to be touched to cum. His cock, his skin against yours, his mouth sucking your neck, and placing love bites were enough. More than so.
The heat was already forming in your stomach, waiting to be released and spread all over your body. The final push hadn't come long after. As you and Snow shared a filthy open-mouthed kiss, he had thrust so hard and deep, a small bulge had formed, your cervix being kissed with his cockhead.
You cry his name and your pussy comes on his cock, milking his length with repeated squeezes. “That's it, my bird,” he praises as he continues to abuse your cunt with his dick. Your nerves are oversensitive making you whimper and teary-eyed. He found his release with a whimper, his hot cum filling your womb. He pulled out with a small gasp and you wanted him again.
His hand ran through his hair, pushing the sweaty strands up. “First lady of Panem,” he stated, looking at you and then your body, his cum falling out of your cunt.
“First Lady…” you whispered, in disbelief and for whatever may come in the future.
#character x reader#x you#x reader#x female reader#fem reader#scenario#oneshot#smut#x reader smut#x you smut#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#snow x reader#coriolanus snow#president snow#the hunger games#thg fanfiction#thg x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the ballad of songbirds and snakes smut#tbosas#thosas smut#young president Coriolanus Snow#the hunger games x you#the hunger games x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader#x fem!reader#dystopian fiction
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a fact about me is that i was an early bloomer who hit puberty in elementary school and was immediately, obnoxiously horny in ways that were uncomfortable for everyone because no one is prepared for an elementary schooler with b cups and a deep fascination with movies where people get tied up. another fact is that because i was considered smart for my age in the ways that mattered, i just accepted all this as a single package, the many ways that i was not really a child the way other children were children but was instead a miniature adult. i was technically a child, but not really, as far as i was concerned. it also did not occur to me until around high school that i was fat, because i instead considered myself to be sturdy, to be buff, to be built like a tank.
so somewhere around middle school i am noticing the ways in which i am Not Like Other Girls, the ways in which i am not what society says a girl is and the ways that things marketed to girls do not appeal to me. i don't know how other girls dealt with this, but i very rationally decided that i was only technically a girl, in the way that i was only technically a child. so i looked at the things that did appeal to me, and that i did enjoy, and reverse engineered my demographic to decide that on a practical and functional level i was a middle-aged man. i had also gotten really hornily into wolverine because of the first x-men movie, and ended up reading a lot of comics, so as you can imagine the comic book version of wolverine who is short and built like a tank and older than he looks despite being for all intents and purposes a middle aged man really had some appeal to me.
there are idiots who say shit about how tomboys would be considered trans these days or whatever, but i can assure you that was not what was happening here. by middle school i already had to special order bras and i was fine with that because of the many weird fetishes i was developing, none of which can be blamed on the internet because i hadn't found that shit yet and also to this day you would have a hard time finding anything similar to the things i wrote in my secret notebook and immediately destroyed. the fact that i was technically a girl was vital to all this. media where there was a big reveal that some cool dude had been a hot chick the whole time was my shit. weird feral beast people who turned out to be hot women once they took a bath? fuck yes. i would never have cut my hair because that would have ruined my chances to take off a helmet and reveal that i had girl hair. at no point did i think i was anything but a girl, it was just that i was functionally a middle-aged man, who was a girl.
what this means is that i still liked all the things i already liked, such as leather jackets and comic books and anime and old stand-up comedy, but i also did extensive research on the other things i felt i should like according to the demographic i had assigned myself. i watched vh1's 'i love the 70s' with the air of someone trying to hide their amnesia, even though my parents were children in the 70s. i got into the beatles. i tried to get into cars for a while before accepting that i only liked the vintage car aesthetic and couldn't be fucked to know actual car facts. i wore nothing but cargo shorts and aloha shirts for a while, which didn't really stand out that much because it was middle school. i bought a fedora and became a libertarian atheist. i made plans to buy a motorcycle (i could not ride a bike).
i gave up on it after a while because quite frankly my titty situation meant there was never really going to be a big reveal that i'd been a girl the whole time. it was pretty obvious even with the cargo shorts. also the older of a teen i was, the more likely it felt that i could maybe get laid, except i could tell that was never going to happen as long as i kept wearing cargo shorts. it took longer to give up the fedora because it was leather and i wore it with my leather jacket and fingerless gloves, which i convinced myself worked a lot better after i'd gone full high school goth. i lived in the desert so you can imagine how well that worked out for me, smell-wise.
anyway that's how my female socialization went, i don't think it was particularly successful tbqh
#original#the funniest part to me is the vh1 thing#i watched so much vh1 while inexplicably behaving as if i was already familiar with everything i was seeing
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please stop scrolling and take the time to read this.
i don't think people understand the extent of the horror happening in palestine right now. "death" means nothing to people because of desensitisation so let me just tell you what white phosphorus is. it's being used in israeli munitions and has been and will continue to be fired across gaza and the palestinian borders.
white phosphorus burns when it comes into contact with oxygen (at nearly 800°C or 1500°F. the human body can withstand ~50°C for reference.) the air you breathe in ignites and it is near impossible extinguish. it sticks to clothing and skin and is very difficult to remove because it will continue to ignite in air. it burns flesh up to the bone and even past the bone because it penetrates tissue and is absorbed VERY easily. if you inhale it it'll destroy your respiratory tract and lungs. it can cause failure in multiple organs including the liver, kidneys and heart. it is being released in one of the most densely populated places on earth.
the only way to treat someone exposed to white phosphorus is to submerge them in saline or water and to pick out the substance with forceps, and when you undress a wound the substance can re-ignite. this is just ONE weapon that is being used to kill palestinian people right now. palestine does not have access to medical care, humanitarian aid, power, or internet. their hospitals are being bombed. gaza is one of the most densely populated places in the world with over 50% of the population being children. many children are the sole survivors of their families. there are videos of children experiencing panic attacks and symptoms of ptsd. the fact that israel has committed war crimes in plain sight means that we can only imagine what will happen to the palestinians in complete darkness.
israel has and will continue to deny this. your interests and fandom will still be here, you will wake up tomorrow morning and see your friends and family, but an entire nation of people are being wiped off the map. being silent is being complacent. reblog, spread information, tell people in real life, attend protests, sign petitions, call your government offices, at the very least be angry and upset and horrified because once you become numb and indifferent and hopeless the oppressors will have already won.
what's happening right now is more than a genocide and once it becomes a part of history we'll wonder how the world let this happen. genocides have been part of all nations. just because it is far away does not mean you don't have to be concerned. the fact that YOUR governments and YOUR idols and the people around YOU are supporting the mass eradication of an entire group of people should scare you. it shouldn't make you feel anything less than sick and angry and disgusted. DO something about it, no matter how small you feel your voice is, because palestinians no longer have one.
[edit] links to some helpful reblogs: one & two
post on how you can help palestine
learn about palestine with this masterlist of info
+ a further reblog of mine
[edit 2] about palestinians "not having a voice" at the time i wrote this post internet connection was cut off entirely and even journalists weren't able to report for a period of time — that is all i meant by that. they of course have a voice and i never meant to undermine how people are risking their lives in gaza to get information out there and i apologise if thats what people took from it, it was not my intention but it is entirely my bad. please continue to spread information and updates from gaza as they come.
#please reblog with any useful resources you may have#or just in general#i dont care that this is a fanfiction blog because nobodys bloody made-up characters are important right now#look through tags and reblog the newer things because theyre being supressed#no matter how many followers you have#israel palestine conflict#free gaza#palestine#gaza#gaza strip
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Eric Venue
Summary: Vil x gn!reader (technically). Vil has always found your mannerisms to be endearing. They are less endearing when they are evoked by his father.
A/N: NEW DILF DROPPED AND I HAVE ZWRO SHAME AWOOGA!!! Special thanks to @animepaniclover122403 and @l1ls4y0 for being my eyes on the inside and getting me pictures. Warning, I'm on the EN server so I know absolutely nothing about Eric Venue so this may be very out of character.
Note: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.
Vil remembers the first time you met him. You wouldn't look directly at him, opting to stare at the floor as you mumbled incoherent sentences. Not a clear thought left your mouth.
Were you scared? Intimidated? Or, worse, did you not like the way he looked? That last possibility kept him up longer than he'd be proud to admit.
When he moved in with you during SDC training camp, he watched you walk into a wall three separate times. It was that third time that he realized what the situation was. You were flustered. How absolutely adorable.
Over the course of the weeks, you were eventually able to say more than three words to him. You continued to have issues looking directly at him, but he didn't mind that. It was cute. And a little bit of an ego boost.
Now the two of you were thick as thieves. And, in a teasing mood, he decided to ask you about your initial reaction to him.
As expected, you couldn't look directly at him, staring at the floor as you fidgeted with clasped hands.
Then he heard, barely above a whisper, “I've never seen anyone who is as beautiful as you.”
His heart fluttered. He knew you well enough now to know that you were from another world…
Which meant…
He was more beautiful than anyone you'd ever seen in two worlds.
“Sometimes…sometimes I can't look directly at you because when I look at you I…I can't think, and my mouth goes dry.”
Adrenaline rushed through him, and he couldn't fight off the vicious grin as he cruelly took your chin in his hand, and forced you to look at him.
“You are so adorable.” Then, to absolutely destroy what little calm you had left he pressed a kiss to your nose. You immediately crumbled, your only life line the hand still holding your chin, as he hid his laugh behind a delicate hand to his mouth.
And now? Now he'd invited you home with him for summer break. He'd planned every day's outfit down to the hour, hoping to absolutely destroy you with his casual attire. Not that it was ever truly casual, but that was by design.
And, by the end of the summer, you'd ask him out, and he'd graciously accept. And then you'd live happily ever after.
He forgot to account for one thing…
“It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you,” his father said with an amused smile, as he pressed a light kiss to each of your cheeks.
Vil knew immediately. Your eyes flicked to his father's, then your entire being crumbled.
“H-h-h-hi, Mr. Venue-”
"Oh please. No need to be so formal. Call me Eric.”
“E-E-E-”
“Father! I thought you had a meeting today,” Vil cut you off quickly, an unconcealed tinge of irritation to his voice. Not that you'd notice. You were too far gone, your face unsubtly turned down to your feet.
“I did, but I'd be a poor host if I didn't come meet your- what are they again?” His father smirked, a challenge in his eyes.
“I'm-I’m his-”
“Y/N’s my guest. My guest. No need to be a host, I have it all taken care of.”
Vil and his father smiled at each other for a moment. A moment too long apparently, because you ended up trying to speak again.
“Thank you for letting me stay in your home,” you whispered, barely audible.
“It's not a problem!” He reached out for your hands, taking them in his own, his thumbs gently caressing your knuckles. “It's wonderful that my son has people that are important to him. Would you, perhaps, like to stay forever?”
In a move very much like one of Vil's, Eric gently tipped your chin up to meet his gaze. Vil watched your face fall under the spell he himself often placed you under. It took everything inside him not to act like a child in a rage. Instead, he placed his hands on your shoulders, and quickly steered you away.
“Y/N is very tired so I will show them to their room,” Vil said. “As I said, I will be their host, no need for you to take time off.”
His father laughed as he quickly shoved you into a nearby guest room. Not even the one he had intended to put you in. But he had to get you away from his dad.
“He smelled nice,” you whispered.
Of course he did. His father smelled of mahogany and expensive cologne. When he was little, that smell meant home. Now that smell meant-
“He was so pretty,” you said with a rather nasty voice crack.
Vil grunted. Grunted! Sevens, the effect you had on him.
Just as his father had done, he took your chin in his hand, and said, firmly, “You're min-my guest. Not his. So try to keep your attention on me.”
You looked at him with big innocent eyes. Vil fought back a distressed, lovesick sigh.
“Understood…but…what if,” you bit your lip, and Vil knew whatever was about to come out of your mouth would give him gray hair. Though, clearly that would be something you would like.
“What if, you shared me?”
He stared at you, opening and closing his mouth a couple times.
“I could be both of your guests!”
“What! Do you know what you're saying?” You had to! At least a piece of you had to, or you wouldn't be continuing the conversation.
“I don't feel safe answering that question,” you said, your eyes narrowing in suspicion at his attitude.
“I'll be blunt, Y/N,” he said firmly. “You cannot date my father.”
“I never said-”
“You didn't have to. It's written all over your face.”
You opened your mouth to protest, closed it, huffed, looked away, then you turned back to him.
“Why not?”
Vil’s jaw dropped. He sputtered, then exclaimed, “Are you seriously asking why you can't date my dad?”
“He's a dilf,” you shrugged.
“You also can't look directly at him!”
“I can change-”
“Doubtful.”
“Wow, okay. I see what this is. You are intimidated by the thought of me as your step parent.”
“You can't be my step parent!”
“I knew it! You're scared of me wearing the pants between the two of us!”
“No! You can't date my dad, because you are supposed to fall for me!”
You blinked at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two perfectly manicured nails. There went his summer plan.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” He sighed heavily. “Oh, as in, you feel the same? Or oh as in, awkward, leave me alone?”
You looked away, and Vil was certain if he felt your cheeks, they would feel feverish.
“I-er-ugh.”
“Take your time,” he hummed his amusement coming back to him.
You glared at him, before crumbling again, and mumbling some gibberish.
“You can't even talk to me, but you think you can handle my father?”
You glared at him, then took a calming breath.
“I like you too.”
“Thank sevens,” he pulled you in for a hug, holding back a snicker as he felt you tremble a little.
“You smell good, too,” you muttered, before hiding your face in his shoulder. He could feel his pride swelling.
But only you could bring it down just as quickly as you brought it up.
“Why can't you share me?” your tone sounded innocent enough, but he groaned as he pushed you out at arms length.
“I absolutely forbid you from flirting with my father.”
“I have two hands, so I could hold both of your hands at the same time!”
“Y/N, do not make me use my unique magic on you,” he warned. He watched you glare at him, but you quickly lost your composure as he reopened his arms to you, and you buried yourself against him.
He had a whole summer to keep you away from his father.
Wonderful.
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munch! spencer, reader with migraine, spencer reads something about how orgasms can help with pain
꩜ warning!: this post is +18!!! mdni!
꩜ word count: 1.6k (got a little carried away;-;)
꩜ A/N: honestly i don't rlly like this but hopefully it's good enough :,)
You let out a quiet groan in pain as you squinted your eyes at the tv, trying to watch your favourite show but the light from the screen only made your throbbing headache worse, to the point it was almost unbearable.
"Another migraine?" Spencer asked quietly from the other end of the sofa as he looked up from his book, keeping his voice low so as to not make it any worse. You just nodded, holding your head in your hand and letting your eyes close, feeling slight relief from the light no longer beaming into your eyes.
You didn't get migraines all that often but when you did they could be pretty bad and Spencer hated seeing you in pain and hated the fact that there was nothing he could do to fix it even more, or so he thought. He'd spent hours researching ways to alleviate your pain after your last migraine, which got so bad that it practically debilitated you and you couldn't do anything but sit in a darkened room for hours until it passed.
After reading countless articles and blogs a unanimous opinion was that an orgasm relieves a large amount of the pain, one woman going as far to say that hers was completely gone afterwards. Honestly the remedy was a complete win-win, he'd be able to help you and make you feel better and he'd also get to do his absolute favourite thing at the same time, which just so happened to be eating you out.
"Do you want me to help?" Spencer suggested, laying his book down on your coffee table and turning to face you, a slightly excited feeling bubbling in his chest.
"Remember nothing worked last time, Spence" you murmured, sighing at the realisation that you'd probably end up back in your bedroom, cocooned under blankets for your unforeseeable future. You felt Spencer shift closer to you and you could practically feel the excitement radiating from him, knowing that meant he'd found some scientific way to help you and wanted to try it.
"I researched a lot about migraines and how to help you since the last one and the method that came up almost every time was that a sexual release would alleviate a large amount of the pain and i was thinking maybe..." he didn't even have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was thinking, as soon as he uttered the word "sexual" you knew what he had in mind.
"You seriously think it'll work?" Your tone was hopeful and you were prepared to try anything at this point, feeling your pain slowly worsen the more time went on. you'd tried almost every other remedy you'd been suggested by friends and nothing had worked even a little and painkillers did nothing for you no matter how many you took.
"It's worth a try," Spencer smiled, resting his hand on your lower back. you knew he wasn't just doing this for himself, it was just convenient that he loved nothing more than to be buried between your legs.
"Alright, but if this doesn't work I'm not gonna be happy" you were only half serious, you were happy to let Spencer run his little experiment, considering that if it did work, you'd both not have a migraine anymore and would have had an incredible orgasm, so either way, you got something out of the experience.
You watched as Spencer moved to turn off the TV, leaving just a lamp on so that it was light enough that he could still see but dark enough that it wouldn't hurt your head so much.
You quickly hooked your fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pants, lifting your hips to tug them down over your ass and slide them down your legs, kicking them to the side to deal with later as Spencer moved to eagerly kneel in front of you, placing his hands behind your knees and leaning down to press a chaste kiss just above your left knee.
You smiled as you slowly spread your legs apart, watching Spencer's eyes glint with anticipation. You already knew the drill—moving to place your legs over his shoulders the way he liked it and shifting forward on the sofa to give him better access.
Spencer didn't waste any time with teasing, reminding himself that this wasn't for him, no matter how much he enjoyed it; this was an attempt to alleviate your pain.
You let out a sigh as you felt his warm tongue lick a bold stripe up your folds before he circled your clit, moaning quietly at your taste that he'd grown to love so much.
You tangled your fingers in his hair as he buried his face deeper into you, urging your thighs apart to lap at your pussy, your quiet whines and moans egging him on as he took your clit into his mouth, sucking and licking at your sensitive nub, the stimulation making you twitch and grip his hair tighter, rolling your hips into his face as you let your head fall back against the couch.
Spencer wrapped his hands around your thighs as he nuzzled his face into you, making sure to get as close as possible to you so that he could dip his tongue into your entrance. The feeling of his warm, wet tongue pushing into you causing you to arch your back, a loud gasp falling from your lips, your migraine long forgotten.
"F-fuck spence," you whined as you tugged on his hair desperately, letting yourself grind into his mouth. Spencer continued his ministrations on your sensitive cunt, drinking in everything you had to give him with pleasure as he whined into your wantonly.
You felt Spencer push one of your legs to the side, and instantly you got the message, lifting your leg to sling it over the arm of the couch to give him access. You couldn't help but gasp when you felt his middle and index fingers prod at your entrance, teasing your hole briefly before he began slowly sliding them in. The copious amount of saliva and your arousal making it easy.
"Oh, f-fuck!" you moaned out as you felt his fingertips curl right into your g-spot, the mixture of his mouth on your clit and his fingers pressing right into that spot that made your toes curl, making your mind go completely blank as you whimpered and moaned, his name falling from your lips in breathy gasps.
Spencer began massaging his fingers into your g-spot, drawing needy moans from your lips as he brought you closer to your release, revelling in the way you moaned his name and the way that your walls clenched around his fingers.
You got completely lost in the pleasure as you rutted your hips into his face, gripping his hair harshly and pushing his face into you. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach tighten as you squirmed and shuddered, the feeling of Spencer's fingers nonstop stimulating your sensitive spot making you a needy mess.
"C-close! 'm close, Spence." Your voice was high-pitched and whiny as you warned him, Spencer only pushing his fingers harder into you, the action pulling a loud moan from your throat as your body began to shake and tremble.
You couldn't help but sling your leg back over Spencer's shoulder, letting your thighs clench around his head as you felt your orgasm approaching. Spencer's tongue never letting up his brutal sucking and licking on your clit, sending shockwaves through your body.
Spencer began moaning and whining into you, the sounds sending vibrations through your sensitive cunt and making you cry out in pleasure as your breath came out in gasps and huffs, your whole body tending as you felt your release dangerously close.
"G-god spence, I'm gonna c-cum!" You practically wailed with no regard for how loud you were being, letting out a constant slew of desperate noises when Spencer massaged your soft spot more precisely, coaxing you to your release as he sucked harshly on your clit.
Spencer let out an especially loud moan as you tugged on his hair, the intense vibrations sending you over the edge as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, your whole body shaking and writhing as your release gushed around Spencer's fingers that continued to curl into you, coaxing you through your orgasm while he gently licked at your clit.
You were breathing heavily and still shaking slightly when Spencer slowly pulled his fingers from your sopping cunt, wincing slightly as his skin dragged against your sensitive walls. You watched as he buried his fingers in his mouth, cleaning off your release like he always did, sighing at the taste before he pulled them out and leaned back in, dipping his tongue into your slit to lap up everything he could, not daring to waste any of it.
Spencer leaned his cheek on your knee when he was satisfied, looking up at you through his lashes as you lay completely fucked out with your eyes closed, a beautifully content expression on your face.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly, watching as you cracked your eyes open and furrowed your brows, scanning around the room and sitting up slightly, a smile spreading across your lips as you looked back down at him.
"I feel...great?!" You laughed slightly, completely fascinated by the effectiveness but also relieved that you'd found something that worked, both for you and for him. Spencer couldn't hide the wide smile that adorned his lips. He was overjoyed that his method worked as he pressed gentle kisses up your leg before he situated himself beside you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and sighing.
"i'm glad"
(dookie ass ending again ik</3 i need to work on that :,)
#📬 maeve's mailbox!#he's a munch your honour!#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid request#spencer reid fandom#spencer reid criminal minds#criminal minds#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#mgg#matthew gray gubler#criminal minds oneshot#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#mgg fanfiction#mgg smut#mgg imagine#mgg x reader
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