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holllandtrash · 10 months

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haunted | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (part 2 to fragile line)

Can't breathe whenever you're gone Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

you're racing. daniel isn't, but he's not gone either, is he? word count: 7.6k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: angst really, more incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps again, platonic love all around, not as big of a rollercoaster as part 1 but just wait till part 3 lol

“Do you know?”

“Do I know what?” You asked, wondering why that was the first thing your teammate said when you opened the door to your flat.

Lando didn’t even bother with a ‘hey, how was your day, what’s up’, he was just straight to the point, only you had no idea what the point was.

He was still on a high after coming in second place the other day, so you let the impoliteness slide. Usually Lando didn’t look like a mix between a sweaty mess and a confused child, but you assumed he was like this because whatever was on his mind was important.

“You haven’t- did you-” Lando stammered over his words. “When’s the last time you checked your phone?”

You felt around in your pockets and glanced over your shoulder with a bit of a shrug. If you were being honest, you hadn’t looked at your phone in a few hours. Your morning was spent training and running errands now that you had some time and were home for a little while before the next race. You were still carrying a lot of energy after your successful finish in Silverstone that sitting still and scrolling through your phone was the last thing you wanted to be doing right now.

“Can you just find your phone, please?” Lando asked, because he didn’t want to be the person to break the news. He came over to talk to you, to walk you through it, to be someone to vent to if you needed it, but the last thing he wanted was to be the one to say it.

It took a minute, but you found it in your bedroom, the screen lighting up and vibrating with each notification. As you walked back towards Lando, you scrolled through them all, trying to see which was the most important.

Eventually, you landed on one from the official F1 app.

Daniel Ricciardo Replaces Nyck de Vries

Daniel Ricciardo was returning to the grid.

Daniel was coming back.

But did he ever really leave in the first place?

You hadn’t spoken to him since that day in Monaco, almost a year ago now. The day your relationship fell apart, crumbling to pieces around you.

You thought maybe, maybe, he’d call you before the next race or at least try to find you somewhere in the paddock to have a civil conversation but that didn’t happen.

Of course, neither of you had time for a conversation anyway.

Daniel released his video 24 hours before media day in Belgium, announcing he would be leaving the team. It broke your heart watching it in your hotel room, knowing he was only a few floors up and probably struggled to record it. You could picture him retaking it a few times, just to get the words right, his tone right. He didn’t want to paint McLaren as being at fault for this decision, even if that was the case.

If you weren’t the driver who was set to replace him, you would have been there in that room giving him encouraging nods and telling him to just speak to the fans. You would have been there when his head fell back against the wall in defeat, eyes closed as the weight of his unknown future crashed down on him. You would have crawled onto his lap and held him, telling him that another team was going to be desperate for him.

Instead you were in your own room, watching the video like the millions of other followers he had. The only difference was, none of those followers asked themselves if they were to blame.

It was just you, wiping the corner of your eyes and asking yourself if this was your fault.

Surely when your news dropped, people would start pointing fingers, people would talk.

Daniel Ricciardo trained her, they would say. He helped her get to this point and now she’s taking his seat.

They’d throw assumptions into the wind about how this was probably your plan all along.

It wasn’t, of course. Your plan was to get a seat in Formula 1 and see Daniel as friendly competition when you stepped onto the grid. You wanted to keep the support system alive when you moved up, knowing you had someone watching your back when you climbed out of the car. You wanted to be able to go home with him at the end of the night on Sunday and watch the race back with him, playfully critiquing each other's moves and ideally celebrating your victories, together.

You never wanted to leave him without a seat.

But part of you must have known he wasn’t driving next year, right? You never brought up the contract, he never talked about leaving, nor did he talk about potentially moving to another team, which seemed like something you’d talk to your partner about.

Daniel said nothing. You said nothing. And in the back of your head you knew he wasn’t signed to another team, you just didn’t want to accept it.

You didn’t want to admit that part of that was your fault.

Zak Brown put you in the worst position possible. He was giving you the chance to make your dream a reality, but in doing so, you were losing the one person who shared that dream with you.

It shouldn’t have been hard to put on a smile during that post-race interview in Spa. You finished second, your hot streak had continued despite the turmoil your heart was going through. So not only was the adrenaline pumping through your veins from the podium, but McLaren had decided that morning was the perfect time to announce you were replacing Daniel.

They didn’t word it like that, though. They just stated that you were to race for McLaren for 2023. No mention of Daniel, even if that was all anyone had questions about.

“Second place in Spa, how are you feeling?” The reporter asked as you struggled to get comfortable in the white leather chair, your trophy at your feet.

You weren’t surprised he, Richard from the official FIA reporting team, jumped directly to you, bypassing any questions for Liam Lawson who finished third. No one had yet to get a comment on your official move to F1, not having any time this morning since the news was announced.

“It's exciting, it’s good to be back as well,” you nodded, turning to Felipe on your right who nodded as well. “A break is always needed, but there’s really no better feeling than getting back behind the wheel.”

“You’ve never podiumed here before,” Richard pointed out, “There’s quite a difference in performance from last year to this year, we’ve all noticed.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” You laughed, not caring at all if it sounded forced, and you knew it did because Liam raised his hand to mouth to hide his chuckle and tried to play it off like he was just scratching his jaw.

“Well it’s just no wonder that McLaren has snatched you up for the 2023 season, with how much you’ve shown this year what you’re capable of. Care to comment on that?”

There it was. The first official request to talk about McLaren.

“I mean, we’ve all seen the news at this point,” another laugh but this time it was more out of discomfort.

You looked at Felipe, he nodded again but it was short and encouraging, silently telling you it was okay to take the spotlight even though it was him who had won this race.

You cleared your throat, thinking about what the PR team from McLaren told you. You’re focused on Prema. McLaren knows this. McLaren is supporting you while you finish your F2 season and by all means, shut down any topic regarding Daniel Ricciardo.

“Really, I’m just focused on finishing the season off strong with Prema,” you told Richard, feeling your smile start to slip because how could you be excited over that or a trophy when you knew what he was thinking and what the whole world was thinking.

You prayed he wouldn’t bring it up, but the media world was hell.

“And Daniel’s departure-

Liam promptly lifted the mic to lips, cutting off Richard before he could finish that thought. “We’ll all miss her, I think that’s safe to say. But maybe it’ll be a bit easier for the rest of us to podium when she’s gone.”

Quiet laughter spread through the audience and you just turned to Liam and mouthed a quick ‘thank you’. He didn’t say anything back, just dropped his head to your shoulder for a second and smiled, playing up the whole we’ll miss her statement. It wasn’t an act, though. Most of the guys you raced with had stopped you at some point this morning sharing their congrats and giving you a hug, telling you that you deserved that spot in F1.

Even Felipe said it and meant it, and he was on the fast track to win this year, also eyeing a spot in F1. You had a good support system in this series.

He dropped his head to your other shoulder and your lips fell into a playful pout, raising your hands to the sides of both driver’s faces. It made a cute photo. The F1 social media team really played into the love you had from your competitors.

You had a lot of support in the paddock, surprisingly, from other drivers.

Mick found you before his own race started. He was your first teammate during your rookie season in F2, it only made sense he was the first current driver to congratulate you.

“You deserve it,” Mick told you, arms tightly wrapped around your body as he gave you a comforting embrace that almost compared to the one you were craving from Daniel, but still something was missing.

Mick’s contract was up at the end of 2022, and no one knew where he was going but he assured you that no matter what, he’d be on your side.

You sort of interacted with Lando on Sunday after your feature race. When you passed him in the paddock, he held his hand out for a fist bump and gave you a wide smile. The cameras caught it, they caught everything apparently, and it was the first photo you saw on social media when you got to the airport late Sunday evening.

First of many celebratory fist bumps, McLaren’s caption said. It was a nice photo, truly.

Too bad the comments were anything but.

Not McLaren hyping up the fact that Danny’s girlfriend is replacing himIsn’t she only fourth in the driver standings in F2 lol We don’t want her we want the honey badgerEven worse when you think about the fact that they are literally in a relationship and she’s taking his seatNo class from any of them

No one seemed to know that you and Daniel were done, but how would they know? Your relationship was private, your break up would be too.

Your break up.

And then it hit you. Right there in the airport. After the adrenaline of a podium had worn off. After the excitement of signing with a new team had passed. After you were finally left alone after being surrounded by your team and drivers and press all day, you broke down.

It was embarrassing. The only saving grace was the fact that you were sat in the corner of the premium lounge, facing the windows, so at least no one could see you cry. You weren’t quiet though, you knew your faint sobs could be heard from anyone within a 3 metre radius.

And you knew how immature this was, crying in an airport. But when you felt things you felt them with every fibre in your being. You were overjoyed beyond words, shaking when you got first podium in F2, and then feeling that multiplied by fifty when you won in Monaco.

You were madly in love with Daniel, despite only dating for a year. It wasn’t young love, puppy love, a whirlwind romance, or any of those sappy headlines. You were head over heels, ready to spend your life with the man who lifted you up above the rest of the world. Who not only put you on a pedestal, but made sure other people did too. He was always in your corner, even before you started dating. He loved you long before you even realised you could also love him.

As an athlete, as a future world championship contender, as a friend, Daniel loved you.

The day you knew you loved him, you knew you were screwed, you both talked about the risks.

Fragile line, you called it, walking a tightrope, he joked. There was such a huge margin of error, so many things that could go wrong by falling in love with, not only a driver but the driver who mentored you.

The media would turn against you. Sponsors would shake their heads. Your future could have been jeopardised. You’d be labelled as a poor role model for girls in motorsport.

You walked a dangerous and delicate line with Daniel, but you didn’t think it would snap beneath your feet. You never thought you’d be the one to break it.

So yes, you were full on sobbing in the airport as you waited to board your flight to Amsterdam.

“Pretty sure podium winners aren’t usually this distraught.”

You heard the British accent and immediately sat up, wiping your eyes and sniffling to at least try and make it seem like you weren’t crying. You turned your head and watched as Lando sat down next to you on the dark blue chair, resting a leg over his knee.

You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him, worrying that if you did try to talk, all that would come out would be more cries.

Lando reached into the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out a travel size pack of tissues, tossing them to you without so much as a word. He waited a few minutes as you composed yourself, using some of the tissues and pocketing the rest for later.

“You okay?” Lando asked, sounding concerned for your well being because he had a point, podium winners aren’t usually this distraught.

“Am I okay?” You repeated back followed with a playful scoff. “Do I look okay?”

“You look awful.”

“I feel awful.”

Lando nodded, clearly unsure what to do in this situation. His current teammate, his friend, was leaving at the end of this year and his new teammate, a girl he had barely had 5 conversations with, was having a breakdown in the airport.

Lando, whether he liked it or not, knew he would be caught in the middle of whatever this mess was for the next few months or so.

He knew you and Daniel were an item. Daniel told himself shortly after Silverstone, and only because Lando had asked, simply curious.

“You and Y/N,” he started off, hesitantly, seeing the two of you interact much more flirtatiously then you had before. “You two are..” he didn’t know how to word it.

Daniel just winked, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

That pretty much confirmed it. And then when you started showing up in the back of the McLaren garage during race weekends, Lando sort of accepted it, quickly getting used to seeing you around.

You were always friendly with each other, but your attention was always on Daniel, too. Lando saw the way you were quick to rush to his side after a difficult race. How you were the first one Daniel looked for when he stepped out of the car, eyes searching the sea of orange for you. Lando heard the way Daniel talked about you, the way he praised you, telling everyone who would listen that you deserved a spot in Formula 1. That man had a note saved on his phone of your stats, race wins, qualifying times, records broken, all of it.

Daniel loved you. Everyone who knew him saw it, and Lando was no exception.

So one could imagine the uncertainty he felt as he approached you in the airport. Surely you and Daniel weren’t together anymore, right? Or were you somehow going to work through this? Could you work through it? Taking his seat?

Lando, like everyone else, was dying to know.

“Has he said anything?” You asked him before Lando had a chance to get a word out. That question alone confirmed that you and Daniel weren’t on speaking terms at least.

“About you?” Lando asked and when you nodded, he saw the devastation hit your eyes as he shook his head. “Honestly he wasn’t very talkative today, left right after the post race stuff.”

“How is he?” You then asked. “Has he- is there any word on him finding a seat next year?” You pulled your knees up to your chest, staring hopefully at the British driver.

It pained Lando to shake his head again, “Not yet, but it’s still pretty early. I’m sure he’ll find a seat.”

You nodded, praying that Lando was right. When you dropped your chin to your knees, averting your eyes when you felt the tears well up again, Lando’s chest grew tight. He felt bad for you. This was a hard position for you to be in.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Lando assured you. “Danny’s one of the best there is, but the results just aren’t there. Zak didn’t see any point in continuing if it’ll just end up being more of the same.”

Lando tried to be encouraging, really, and you were thankful for that, but he got the hint after a while that you just didn’t want to talk about it. Before leaving you alone, he gave you his number and told you that if you needed anything, to just reach out.

You were always friendly with Lando, but that was the start to your friendship.

It was Lando who shared your picture when you claimed first place in Zandvoort, celebrating your success with a cheeky caption stating how he better see you bring the hot streak to McLaren next year. He was the one who interrupted your post-race interview in Monza, spotting you in the paddock being interviewed by Will Buxton. Lando, despite needing to follow his own pre-race schedule, came and draped an arm over your shoulder and playfully interrupted whatever Will was trying to say.

“Look at that,” Will laughed when you struggled to shake Lando’s arm off of you, “Future teammates. Lando, how excited are you to be working with this incredible talent next year?”

“Oh extremely excited,” Lando answered, leaning into the mic gripped between your fingers. “She won’t be able to keep up with me though.”

And that it was it. He ruffled his hand through your hair and took off again.

He checked in on you between races, whenever a new headline was trending, whenever someone from social media had the audacity to compare yours and Daniels stats and pin you against each other as if there wasn’t already enough you were struggling with.

Lando didn’t want you to come into the new season already feeling defeated. He was still friends with Daniel, he always would be, but he had a kind heart. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t on anyones ‘side’, but more importantly, he saw you as a driver, as his next teammate. He didn’t see you as Daniel’s ex who was now stealing his seat like half of the world did.

It was also his car that you drove during the practice sessions in Austin and Abu Dhabi. Lando happily stepped aside for you, giving you a supportive pat on the back and strategically blocking your line of sight towards Daniel as he got ready for his sessions as well.

You still hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t even looked at each other. You tried, honestly, to catch his eye but he refused to even glance your way. He was in and out of that car so quick, finding any excuse to leave the garage while you were there.

It hurt. You knew his mind was made up. He was upset, he was hurt, he wanted nothing to do with you and seeing you in his garage sent him spiralling.

All you saw was Daniel turning his back on you, but what you didn’t know was this situation was giving Daniel constant headaches. He couldn’t look at you, the girl he loved, and watch you climb into the McLaren knowing that you’d be doing that throughout the entire next season and he wouldn’t.

All he ever wanted was to see you in a Formula 1 car, but not like this.

You stood in Lando’s side of the garage during the last race. You wore your McLaren jacket, you had the orange headphones on as stared up at the screen. Your back was towards Daniel’s car, so you missed the way he did actually look at you. It pained him to see how well you blended in with the team, his team. He almost told himself it looked like you belonged there, but he quickly put his helmet on and climbed into his car, gearing up for the race.

He finished 9th. Lando finished 6th. And with that, the season ended.

Daniel was done.

You watched him celebrate with those closest to him. You stood off to the side and thought about how if things were different, you’d be clinging to him, sweaty race suit and all, waiting to congratulate him in your own way back at the hotel. You would tell him you loved him, that he didn’t need McLaren. You’d joke and say that you two could form your own team, because that’s what you should have been till the end, a team.

But that wasn’t the case anymore. McLaren was your team now.

It was only a matter of days until Daniel spoke to the media about his departure.

“I can’t speak ill of her,” Daniel said, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He knew that coming on this podcast that he’d be asked about you and your contract. He was advised against it but the second his working relationship ended with McLaren, he agreed to talk, to share his side.

“But she’s the one who took your seat,” Jaycee so politely pointed out. “As happy as I am to see a female in Formula 1, it’s bittersweet knowing a driver such as yourself is left without a spot.”

Daniel sighed into the mic in front of him, “McLaren handed her her dream on a papaya platter and she grabbed it. I think a lot of drivers would do the same in that scenario.”

“But it stings a little more, doesn’t it?” Greyson, her co-host asked. “Because you two were-

“Friends, yeah,” Daniel interrupted. “Yeah we were close.”

“You mentored her,” Greyson pushed for more of an admittance as to what their relationship was. “You were seen with her and the Prema team during a handful of weekends. She even said you were her mentor.”

Daniel naturally hesitated, “I saw her potential early on and I wanted to help her grow. I really did want to see her in Formula 1, despite what anyone says about the situation she’s an incredible driver.”

“Everyone who follows Formula 1 knows you have a strong connection,” Jaycee said, subtly trying to pry for more as well. “After her Silverstone crash in 2021 you were in her garage. And then you were seen in Monaco together a few weeks later. You two weren’t just friends in the paddock, you worked closely together outside of race weekends too-

“Did your girlfriend take your seat or not?” Greyson blurted out, earning a glare from Jaycee on his left, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He wanted to know, the whole world wanted to know what was going on between you and Daniel now that you were signed for McLaren.

And you had to give props to Daniel, he played it off about as smoothly as he could.

“McLaren sees more potential in her than me,” he said, still smiling because that’s who he was. A people pleaser, always grinning, always a breath of fresh air. “If they can give her what they promised me, then that’s good for all of them. Do I like how the situation went down? No, but that’s the reality of Formula 1. You’re not safe unless you’re winning and I wasn’t winning.”

“And your relationship-

“She doesn’t need a mentor anymore, does she?” Daniel asked, disregarding any ideas of the two of you dating. “She made it to Formula 1. That was what she wanted. I wish her well.”

That was the closest thing to confirmation of your break up that anyone would get.

And the interview ended shortly after that, doing wonders on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. You listened to it also, just waiting for Daniel to say something horrible but of course he didn’t. That wasn’t him. He was the good guy. He was the hero. He got you to Formula 1 and was holding his head up high, wishing you well and thanking McLaren for the last 2 years.

You wished it ended there, the conversations surrounding you. It should have ended there.

But fast forward to the awards dinner at the end of the year, just shortly after the last race of the season.

You sat with your mum at a round table with Felipe and his partner and few other people involved in Formula 2.

You had finished second in the standings, not first like you had dreamt of, but Felipe told you that first place in the championship would come in F1, don’t worry.

And you weren’t sure who had made the seating chart, but from where you sat, you could easily see Daniel at his table, only a few metres away from your own. He sat with some of his friends and some people from his personal team. He was also purposely avoiding looking in your direction, knowing that if he did, he’d be making eye contact for the first time in months.

He’d see your stunning features and bright eyes standing out among the rest. He’d see the low cut, thinly strapped black dress, showing off the collarbones he used to mark with his lips, the trail between your breast and down to your navel that he used to make with his tongue. If he looked at you, he’d think of all the ways the night would have ended if things were different.

If he looked at you, he’d be reminded that the girl he loved was the one who broke him. He’d be reminded that as hurt as he was by your actions, by taking his seat, he couldn’t forget the memories you made, the moments he shared, the way he used to admire you.

He didn’t love you anymore, though. He couldn’t. He forced those feelings out, replacing them with regret for ever deciding to help you because if he hadn't helped you, it wouldn’t have been you that took his seat.

So Daniel looked at the stage, his friends, his food. He didn’t look at you.

He didn’t even look at you when you walked up to collect your trophy, choosing that moment to be the perfect time to walk up to the open bar. He ordered a few more drinks and a shot on a whim, downing it back before walking to the table, 2 freshly poured glasses of rum and cokes in hand.

Daniel got drunk that night. He didn’t mean to, but it helped him deal with all he had going on. It was a good way to end the 2022 season, to put it behind him. You, McLaren, all of it.

Someone should have stopped him when he noticed you about to leave at the end of the night, a white coat draped over your shoulders. That should be my blazer, Daniel thought, thinking of the countless nights he had given you his jacket for warmth.

You were in the middle of a conversation with someone from Prema when you felt a tug in your arm. When you looked up and saw it was Daniel who was pulling you off to the side, your heart sank. There were no butterflies anymore, just a lot of anxiety and guilt eating you from the inside.

You could tell he hadn’t thought through what he was going to say. For a split second, his gaze was soft, almost like he thought about congratulating you for a successful season. For a moment, proud Daniel was back and for a moment, you got your hopes up. Maybe this line you broke could be fixed.

It was a bad sign when his eyes grew cold, features hardening along with them. This man, who was all you wanted, stared at you like you were a stranger, and maybe you were now.

He opened his mouth and the room around you fell dark and quiet. It was your mind playing horrible tricks on you, putting a spotlight in this moment in time so it would haunt your memories after tonight. You knew the earth was still spinning, that people around you were still moving, but you couldn’t trust anything, frozen in this space with Daniel.

“I hope you’re happy,” Daniel spoke softly, but his words cut through you like a knife. If someone told you that your heart was bleeding, you’d believe it. That’s certainly what it felt like.

He didn’t want you to be happy. He didn’t want you taking his seat. He didn’t want to see you live out his dream. He put on a beautiful charade for the press, but deep down you knew, he saw you as nothing more but a mistake. He no longer wanted you to succeed, despite telling the world he wished you would.

"Daniel-"

You automatically reached for him and he flinched backwards. It hurt, seeing him react how he was. He didn’t want you touching him, he just wanted to get one more word in, wanted you to know that he was still bitter and would be for a while.

You stood there and watched him walk away, haunted by the pain and broken trust in his eyes, a look that would become burned into your mind during your restless sleeps.

And then there was the week where you just didn’t sleep. The week after Daniel’s contract with Red Bull was announced.

He wasn’t driving with them, but he wasn’t leaving Formula 1 either.

He’d still be around the paddock during selective race weekends. He’d be there, putting on a show for the fans because everyone loved him. Everyone wanted him on the grid, and if he couldn’t race, at least he was still there in the garage as a reserve driver.

The same excitement couldn’t be said for you.

Despite forming a close bond with Lando really early into the pre-season, it helped that he was only two years younger than you, you were not met with open arms and loud cheers.

You had some supporters, a lot actually, but nothing compared to Daniel’s fans. You were pulled alert and critiqued for every move you made. You could understand the questions that circulated when you didn’t even finish the first race in Bahrain, retiring early because of an engine problem. Did Zak really make the right move by replacing Daniel with you? What could you bring to the team if this was how you started the season?

But it was the talk about what you did off the track that really got to you. You didn’t care if people weren’t a fan of your driving, you knew F1 fans had their favourites and you knew you weren’t everyone’s.

However social media had a way of spinning everything. You lost count of the ridiculous rumours. Apparently, you were now replacing Daniel with Lando because that playful interview you did talking about red flags in relationships really gave away the fact you were sleeping together.

Oh you were also sleeping with Mick Schumacher, because you had a thing for reserve drivers, it seemed. And the way he found you after your second race without points again in Saudi Arabia made it so obvious that you were with him.

And you couldn’t forget about how big of a bitch you were, choosing to not acknowledge Daniel in Australia when you walked past him in the paddock. It was his home race, he was the reason you were even racing, and you couldn’t even stop and give him a smile?

These rumours were truly getting annoying.

Of course, you couldn’t come out and tell people that Lando was seeing someone because it was so new and private and not your story to tell. No one cared that Mick was your teammate at Prema in 2020 and you guys had always been friends. No one would believe you if you said that you didn’t even see Daniel in the paddock, being too engrossed in your conversation to notice that the Australian was walking past.

You grew to hate seeing him during race weekends.

It was a constant reminder of what could have been.

What if you had waited a year and signed with McLaren then? Would Daniel still hold this hatred towards you if his contract played out like it was supposed to?

What if you signed with a different team like Williams instead, and someone else replaced Daniel? If Oscar Piastri had taken his spot, would Daniel be this resentful still to see you driving? Or would he happily walk by your side in the paddock, him in Red Bull polo, you in your Williams racing suit? Would he have accompanied you during the race weekends when he didn’t have Red Bull duties?

Was there ever a scenario where he stood in your garage and watched you race? Cheering you on, despite what place you finished? Despite where he was in his own career?

Or was that just a far fetched dream?

Because let’s face it, if Daniel was still racing this year, it would be hard to support you and focus on his own season. How could he be happy if he DNF’d and you finished in the points? How could you be happy if the media would say that you were only using Daniel to get ahead?

If you had signed for Williams and Daniel was still replaced, it would be difficult for him to watch you race, to watch you do what he loved. How could he be in your corner when he no longer had a corner of his own to stand in?

Maybe you were doomed from the start. Fragile line, you said. How true that was. It was always going to snap.

You heard through the grapevine that Daniel had said you taking his seat before his contract was even up was the worst thing you could have possibly done.

Was that in regards to McLaren? To your relationship? From a sportsmanship standpoint? You had no idea. You just knew Daniel wasn’t impressed that you were racing and he wasn’t.

You hated seeing him during the few races he attended. You were petrified to run into him in the paddock, in the pit lane, in the hotel for christ sakes, you didn’t want to see him. At one point, you were desperate for even just a smidge of attention from him and now you felt sick whenever you heard he would be in attendance.

You went five races in a row without scoring any points. You could practically hear Daniel’s smug expression when you crossed the finish line each time. He was probably eating this up, knowing you were the one struggling now.

The only difference was, you didn’t have him to turn to after a shitty run in the McLaren.

Lando tried to be helpful, but he was struggling too. People called the car a tractor and honestly, so did you and Lando in private. You had a group chat with your personal trainers and the four of you called yourselves the farmers. The jokes made and lighthearted conversations shared were the only silver linings during this depressing start of a season.

Monaco was better, sort of.

You finished 10th, so at least that was a point under your belt.

But Daniel was everywhere.

He loved Monaco, he lived in Monaco, of course it was no surprise he was there that weekend.

You found yourself jogging past his flat the Thursday before the race, and you didn’t do it on purpose but it was the same route you had taken all of those times you had spent days on end at Daniel’s. Sometime he joined you for those morning runs, sometime you’d return and he was making breakfast.

But you came to a stop on the opposite side of the street and stared up at it, recognising his balcony instantly. You saw the plant in the corner that you had given him a few months into your relationship and despite him claiming he wasn’t a plant guy, he managed to keep it alive.

Your heart felt heavy. All you wanted was to knock on his door and be welcomed in with wide arms and that stupid smile of his. You wanted to not feel anxious when you saw him in the paddock. You wanted to not be holding your breath every time you got out of the racecar, wondering what Daniel thought of your run.

You were simultaneously on edge at all moments while also still dying to make him proud. You didn’t think that would ever go away.

Even during the weekends he wasn’t there, you were looking over your shoulder constantly. Even if you knew that he was on the other side of the world, he was still on your mind. He haunted your thoughts from the moment you walked into the garage to when you got out of the car at the end of the race weekend.

Lando called you out on it that Thursday in Silverstone.

“You’re in your head,” he told you, seeing how your main focus wasn’t racing, it was Daniel. You were unsure what he was referring to though and Lando just rolled his eyes, “Well actually, Daniel’s in your head. And he’s keeping you from being the driver I know you can be.”

That was all he said on the topic.

And he was right.

You were so worried about Daniel. About what he would think of your races. About trying to avoid him during the weekends he was there. About still trying to make him proud but not too proud where he resented you more for taking his seat. About the hundreds of scenarios that could have happened if you had made a different choice.

Because of all of these thoughts, that seat at McLaren was still very much Daniel’s. You allowed it to be.

You needed to stop telling yourself you took his seat because that’s what it would always be then, his seat. Lando stood up, patting your knee after dropping those few words and you decided right then and there that it was your seat.

You wouldn’t let Daniel haunt you anymore.

And qualifying was where this new mentality really showed.

You were buzzing with energy when your engineer told you that you had gotten P3 and were starting on the second row for tomorrows race. You climbed out of the car in parc ferme and ran directly to Lando. He hugged you, he was proud of you.

“That’s the driver we all know,” Lando said when he pulled his helmet off. His hand was on your shoulder, both of you were wearing identical smiles of pure joy. “Where the hell has she been all this time?”

You didn’t even have an answer, too excited about what this meant for you, for the team. You post-quali interviews went by in a blur, your hands were shaking the entire time. You blacked out during it, still trying to process the fact that you had finished third in qualifying, but you did remember Lando reaching over at one point and dropping his hand to your knee. It was polite, it didn’t mean anything more than a playful stop shaking you’re making us all look bad, but god did the media run with it.

You didn’t let anything on social media get to you, telling yourself that you had to stay focused for the race. In fact you even gave your phone to your trainer, Oliver, asking him to take it for the night and to just wake you up in the morning.

And Oliver was a good trainer, he had also become a good friend since you joined McLaren so you trusted him with your phone.

Which meant he knew your password.

So when he saw your phone light up that night with a text from Daniel, Oliver panicked. He knew the right thing to do would be to just leave it alone, you’d see it in the morning. You’d see the message. The short but seemingly sweet;

P3, nice job

But a text like that would send you spiralling and you didn't need that before one of the most important races of the season for you, Oliver knew this. He knew you were supposed to be getting over Daniel, he knew how much the Australian just being in the paddock messed with your mind. He knew you had to focus on racing.

There was so much uncertainty with the text. Was this him extending an olive branch? Was he genuine, or was this supposed to be taken with a bit of salt? Oliver could read it both ways. Either Daniel was truly happy for you, or this could be dripping with sarcasm. P3, sure, but remember who’s seat you’re in.

Oliver decided to delete the text. There was no trace of it when he handed the phone back to you the next day.

Maybe that was for the best, no one knew.

All you knew was you were starting third today.

All Daniel knew was you had ignored him, and now you were walking right past him down the paddock, side by side with Lando as you talked about today’s race. Daniel turned his head and saw the two of you, drawing his own conclusions.

Whatever was going through his mind, one thing seemed certain. You didn’t need him anymore. You had the seat, the team, someone new supporting you, why would you still need Daniel?

You went about your day, the same pre-race rituals. Lando checked in more than normal, it was an exciting day for both of you, but he knew he was also a good distraction to keep your mind off of Daniel, he knew you would be struggling to keep from thinking about him.

“It’s you and me,” Lando told you right before the race. “It’s our day, yeah? We’ve got this.”

Lando was in your corner. You were in his.

Which meant you were there to celebrate after the race when he took home second place. You had claimed fourth, which was also something to be proud of, and you were, but you were also craving that podium. You could almost taste it, it was so close.

“Next time,” Lando assured you, having full confidence that you’d be holding the trophy at the following race. He handed you a bottle of champagne, telling you to drink up and enjoy and for once, you did.

You were happy. You finally felt like you could accomplish something amazing at McLaren, despite the horrible start. Lando had gotten a podium, yours was coming, you could feel it.

You didn’t think about Daniel at all that night. It was the first night in a long time where you didn’t see his face when you closed your eyes.

And you would have loved to keep celebrating after that night, to keep the high of Lando's podium and your 4th place finish last until the next race, but all good things must come to an end.

You stood in front of Lando now, unsure how to take the news about Daniels’ return. Were you allowed to be happy for him? Of course you wanted to see him in a seat, this was the ideal situation, both of you driving this season. What would this mean for the two of you moving forward?

But he had done the exact same thing you had done by replacing a driver before their contract was up.

Daniel made you feel awful about that decision and now here he was, making the exact same one. He was no better than you. He was no hero, he wasn’t the good guy. He was a driver, desperate for a seat, as were you. As was every single person wanting to race in this series.

You were on the same playing field now.

He was going to be at every single race for the rest of the season, as a competitor on the grid. Something you once dreamt of, both of you dreamt of, was finally coming true.

But that’s all he would be. A competitor. Another driver. Another car to overtake. You always thought that when this moment came, you’d still be a team when you left the track at the end of the day and that just wasn’t the reality you found yourself in.

“He’s back,” Lando said, hands shoved in his pockets trying to gauge your reaction.

Daniel was returning to Formula 1, but you knew he was never actually gone in the first place.

He was in your thoughts, your dreams, your memories, he was everywhere all of the time. Even when you crossed the finish line in Silverstone, there was still a part of you that was wondering if Daniel was watching. As much as you tried to avoid him, your eyes still scanned every single crowd for him.

And now you didn’t need to look anymore.

part 3 gone

----

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hirukochan · 7 months

Text

Blindsided

A Severus Snape x fem!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Severus Snape x former student reader

Summary: Complaining to your friend about Snape's complicated presence in your life ends up with you being pulled into the battle of Hogwarts. Will Snape survive?

Warnings: Smut, some degradation, angst, blood

Wordcount: 6300

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

“I don’t know!” You whine and drop your head onto the counter.

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’ how can you not know why you fuck someone?”

“It was a lapse in judgement.”

“A huge bloody lapse that must have been.” Aberforth grunts and dries a glass with a dirty rag. “Severus fucking Snape - his name is almost as feared as you-know-who’s these days.”

“I know!” You peer up from the counter. Aberforth looks grim - but he always looks grim. In your sixth year, you once and for all decided the Three Broomsticks is too crowded and unpleasant to be in. The Hog’s Head already had a terrible reputation back then, but you didn’t care as long as it was quiet. A sorta friendship developed between you and the barman after that. “Do you hate me now?”

Aberforth grunts. “Hate you? Ridiculous girl.” He turns to put the glass back on the shelf to the other glasses that were never used. “What would I hate you for?”

“I slept with Snape.”

“And?”

“Twice.”

“I repeat, and?”

“He- he killed your brother…”

“I’m certain he has killed a lot more than just my brother and as you know Albus and I haven’t spoken in years. When you are as old as me you don’t view death as something so terrible anymore. Anyway, I heard he was sick. Caught some nasty curse or something.”

“I’m a terrible person.”

“Don’t flatter yourself! There are way worse people out there. Snape for example.” He makes a sound that distantly resembles a laugh. A rattling humph sound. You glare at him, but can’t help the corners of your mouth twitch.

“Was it at least good?”

“That’s the worst part.” You groan and prop your head up against your hand.

“That bad?”

“The opposite.”

“That good, hm?”

You blush and quickly take a large gulp of your drink to hide it.

“You know, I’ve said it before you should-”

“I’m not joining the resistance, Aberforth!” You groan. “I have nothing to bring to the table. I was decent at best in Defense. I’d get myself killed within the first few days.”

“You know Snape.”

“I fail to see the connection.” Aberforth raises a brow and you shrink a little under his intense ‘are-you-kidding-me’-gaze.

“A spy in their midst would be useful.” He says gruffly and places another glass on a shelf.

“I’m no spy! I can’t fool Snape! We can hate him as much as he deserves to be hated but you have to agree that he’s a bloody genius! I could never fool him.”

“You said he broke into your flat while fatally injured. Even a genius is sometimes just a man thinking with his cock.”

“I’m not whoring myself out to-” Your outrage is cut short by an ear-splitting scream outside.

“This damn Caterwauling Charm!” Aberforth roars and hurls his dishcloth to the ground. You press your hands to your ears to shield them from the scream. It rips through the night like a sharp knife through skin, tearing at your eardrums and every nerve in your body. It is like the caster of the charm is standing right next to you but the terrible sound clearly comes from outside.

“What is this?” You shout over the wail towards Aberforth.

“Curfew’s been broken! They were boasting about being sent here to catch Potter. Seem to be thinking he’d be stupid enough to come here and they seem to be right.”

You get up from the bar stool and follow Aberforth to the window.

The wailing stops. You take a relieved breath and drop your hands to your side. Multiple Death Eaters dressed in dark robes are storming out of the Three Broomsticks . They are talking about something, but you can’t hear.

“Poor Rosmerta.” You grimace at the thought of having to serve those monsters at your establishment. Instinctively you grab your wand in your pocket. Dementors flood into the village. You tense.

“Bloody fool!” Aberforth growls. A shimmering blue stag runs through the town centre, fighting off shadowy dementors. Potter’s Patronus. You gasp, clasping your hands over your mouth. So Aberforth is right. Harry Potter is here in Hogsmeade.

“What would possess him-”

Aberforth stalks through the room and rips open the door.

“Potter!” He hisses. Wind tears at his robes and what sounds like three sets of hasty footsteps cross through the room and up the trickery wooden staircase behind the counter. You see nothing. If it weren’t for the steps you’d think nothing happened.

“Invisibility cloak.” Aberforth mutters over his shoulder, but his attention is suddenly pulled away by multiple hooded figures reaching the pub. You take a step back, disappearing in the shadows.

“So what?” Bellows Aberforth in response to something you didn’t catch. “So what? You send dementors down my street, I’ll send a Patronus back at’em! I’m not having’em near me, I’ve told you that. I’m not having it!”

“That wasn’t your Patronus! That was a stag. It was Potter’s!” A Death Eater shouts back, sounding rather childish you note.

“Stag!” Roars Aberforth. He draws his wand and you tense, grabbing your own tighter, your knuckles going white. If they attack Aberforth you’ll- jump into a fight you’re gloriously outnumbered in? “Stag! You idiot - Expecto Patronum! ”

Aberforth’s large goat Patronus jumps from the tip of his wand. Head down, it charges toward the village centre, and out of sight.

“That’s not what I saw” says the Death Eater, sounding less convinced than before.

“Curfew’s been broken, you heard the noise,” Another Death Eater interrupted the first. “Someone was out on the streets against regulations-”

“It was me.” You say and step forward, out of the shadows like Snape always used to when catching you out and about in the castle after curfew and the thought almost makes you laugh hysterically considering what you’re about to do. “When I arrived that horrible sound started.”

“You set off the charm?” The first Death Eater says confused. His eyes roam over your body, causing a cold shiver to run down your back and a foul taste to spread in your mouth. You resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself to hide from the hungry stares of the dark wizards.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“What are you doing here at this hour, beautiful?” The second one purrs in a sickly-sweet tone of voice. You somehow manage to keep your blatant disgust from showing on your face. You square your shoulder and raise your chin, looking down at the men with nothing but disinterested arrogance.

“That is hardly of your concern.” The men look at each other, snickering mockingly.

“‘Hardly of your concern’?” One sneers. “Princess thinks herself too good to follow the rules.”

“Perhaps we ought to teach her a lesson, boys.”

“I am-” you raise your voice to drown out their beginning discussion of what to do with you. “-here to see Severus, so do yourself the favour and fuck off, yes?” A murmur passes through the Death Eaters. Saying Snape’s first name feels weird.

“The headmaster doesn’t receive walk-ins - especially not at this hour, even if they are as pretty as you.”

“He’s expecting me, you moron!” He is definitely not expecting you! He said he hopes you’ll never have to see him again!

“She sounds just like him.” One of the figures murmurs.

“Wait-” Another interrupts him. “I recognise you! You’re Snape’s little whore! Yes! The one in Diagon Alley, you remember boys? The shop that’s off-limits. I wondered why a pathetic bookshop would be off-limits until Wilkies said he was sent to get Snape from there and who do you think opened the door?”

You keep your chin held high and your clenched fists hidden in the pockets of your coat you had not taken off in your hurry to get out all the things weighing on your chest. Aberforth catches your gaze. His brows are knitted, an unspoken question in his eyes. You give him a tiny nod.

You can do this.

If Potter is here, here, there must be a damn good reason for it and if you could keep Snape distracted long enough-

Something in your chest tightens painfully at the thought of deceiving the man, which is ridiculous! He’s a Death Eater and a murderer!

He said this will all be over soon and while he probably meant that you-know-who will kill Potter soon - you have the chance to help the resistance here, help Potter. Everyone says he’s your only hope so here goes nothing.

“If you’re done wasting my time, then!” You growl, pissed off by the way they speak about you right to your face.

“You’re not going anywhere alone!” The Death Eater who recognised you says sharply. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost on your way to your…” His eyes roam over your body and he licks his lips. “ Date .”

It’s hard to resist the urge to claw his eyeballs out with your fingernails but you succeed. Somehow.

He steps to the side and gestures for you to lead the way. “We’ll escort you.”

You shoot him a snide glance and leave behind The Hogshead and Aberforth and the pretended safety you have been surrounding yourself in ever since Albus Dumbledore died.

Your stomach drops further with every step you take towards the imposing castle looming over the quiet village. You are flanked by two of the hooded figures. Your mouth feels dry and fuzzy and not even the sight of your beloved Hogwarts with its glimmering windows can ease your anxiety.

What if Snape blows your cover? ‘Expecting her? Why would I be expecting her?’ What if he decides to play along? Or maybe he’ll ask why you lied?

You take a deep breath, inhaling the cool night air into your lungs, focusing on the way they expand in your chest.

Snape came to your flat when he was fatally injured! Aberforth is right, that has to mean something! It just has to…And Potter is here for a reason! They say he is the only one that will be able to defeat you-know-who and while placing your fate on the shoulders of a seventeen-year-old sounds ridiculous you will certainly not defeat the most powerful Dark wizard to ever live! But you can distract Snape. Yes. You can keep him busy and buy Potter a chance to do whatever he is here for-

Or Snape sees right through you and Potter doesn’t have a plan.

You can’t even begin to tell yourself you don’t want to distract Snape like that because your body is already working against you.

You reach the iron gate. It opens with a shrill squeak and your feet once more hit the grounds of Hogwarts. Even with your nerves raw and plotting an escape from your body to save themselves while you walk to your doom. There is light in Hagrid’s hut. The treeline of the forbidden forest is cloaked in shadows, thicker and somehow darker than normal shadows and just like when you were a student here you feel like eyes are watching you from between the trees. The water of the Black Lake splashes against rocks and while in your teenage years you found the sound soothing it now only serves to unnerve you further.

You don’t look up to the headmaster's window.

You’re also shamefully aroused and your heart flutters at the thought of seeing Snape’s endlessly dark eyes that look so cold and apathetic from a distance but when you were standing right in front of him they had looked so soft and filled with emotion you could not dissect and you wonder if they always looked like that. Perhaps you had just never stood close enough to him to notice? A vein part of you whispered that it is all for you and no one else.

You squash the voice.

Your steps echo in the entrance hall. Your eyes catch the piercing gaze of Professor McGonagall, the strict head of Gryffindor house and Transfigurations Professor. Next to her in the doorway to the Great Hall stands Professor Flitwick. As soon as they see you and your escorts they hastily end their hushed conversation. They stare at you in quiet recognition and shock and you fail to conceal your fear from them.

“This way, beautiful.” One of the Death Eaters sneers and grabs your arm. You rip free and glare at him, barely resisting the urge to punch him. “Headmaster must be waiting already.” He grins, bearing his yellow teeth at you with unabashed ridicule. Disgust prickles over your skin, sinking into your stomach.

“Don’t touch me.” You hiss because you can’t help yourself. Without looking at your former Professors again you turn towards the grand staircase. Each step worsens the brooding feeling of inevitable doom that’s waiting behind the Gargoyle and then you’re standing in front of him much sooner than you ever would have expected or been ready to.

Snape is sitting behind a large desk, bend over a stack of parchments, greasy black hair falling in front of his face like curtains. He is holding a raven feather quill with a sharp silver tip which is gliding over the parchments with quick, elegant motions. He doesn’t bother looking up. He doesn’t seem to think the Death Eaters worthy of his attention.

You look around the round room. You were a good student - or at least a boring one. You’ve never been called into the headmaster’s office. The walls are lined with portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses and you feel transported back in time, just another student flinching at the stringent eyes of her professors. Dark leather-bound books adorn the many shelves and you can’t help but wonder whether Snape has read them all.

“I seem to remember you having been assigned to guard the village.” His deep voice cuts through the silence with taunting indifference and the way the words roll over Snape’s tongue and vibrate in his throat has you pressing your thighs together.

“This one claims you’re expecting her.” At that, Snape looks up. If he is surprised to see you, he doesn’t let it show. You shrink under his intense gaze no matter how much you told yourself you wouldn’t on the way up to his office. His eyes are cold…empty somehow. A man who has seen too much horror to not have lost some part of his humanity along the way.

He’s even skinnier, the shadows under his eyes deeper. You feel the overwhelming need to hug him despite everything he has done.

“And?” The other one says impatiently. “Are you?”

“I was waiting for you to leave but it appears I need to spell it out for you - unless you were expecting a treat for fetching what is mine like good guard dogs?”

He- he didn’t- he is playing along?

The hooded men grumble a few unsavoury insults and slam the door shut behind them. The sound leaves behind an eerie silence that Snape doesn’t seem too interested in breaking.

His gaze drops back down onto his parchment and he begins scribbling again. The portraits share looks and whisper with each other.

“Hi…” The word gets stuck in your throat and sounds far higher than you usually talk - you doubt he understood more than a gurgle. You clear your throat and take a hesitant step forward, closer to the man who these days is as feared as you-know-who.

Snape sets aside his quill and steeples his fingers. His intense gaze seems to burn right through your forehead and has you squirming. Something in his eyes softens, a change so miniscule you almost missed it.

“What are you doing here and why are you lying?” He asks. He speaks softer too. Less cold, less sardonically.

“I kinda…tripped the Caterwauling Charm when I arrived in Hogsmeade and…there were Dementors and Death Eaters and they said some things…I got scared so I kinda told them….you were expecting me-”

His lips curl. “‘Kinda told them’ ?”

“I did- I did tell them.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“Why were you in Hogsmeade to begin with?” Suspicion flashes through his eyes. You take another step forward.

“I- I missed you.” Not exactly a lie. You do miss him for some fucked up reason! You’ve been thinking about him every day since that stupid blind date stood you up and his eyes haunt you every night when you close your eyes. The memories of what happened in that exact bed you were lying in came back to you and more often than not ended with you panting his name as you made yourself cum - knowing your own touch would never compare to his.

His eyes darken, his jaw tense as though he can-

You blush.

He can read your mind. He told you at the restaurant! You try not to think about Potter, but trying not to think about something always leads to thinking more about it so you bring your thoughts back to you in your bed. Covered in sweat, clutching your pillow-

“You missed me?” He asks, pretending to not have understood you but the subtle taunt in his voice betrays him. Perhaps he wants it to betray him. “And so you…what? Thought you’d go to Hogsmeade and try to get into Hogwarts? You could have sent an owl, dear.”

“The thought didn’t occur to me.”

“My, my…oh well, you’re here now aren’t you?” He pushes back his chair and spreads his legs. “Show me how much you missed me.” Mischief and an unspoken challenge glitter in his eyes and for some reason it turns you on further.

As though caught in a trance you move, rounding the desk and closing the distance between you and Snape. Distantly you are aware that the portraits are watching you. Your stomach churns and flip flops and the liquor you had at Aberforth’s turns out to have been a huge mistake.

Snape undoes the buckle of his belt. Something in the way his hands move and his shoulders are drawn into a tense, straight line tells you he doesn’t expect you to go through with this.

Joke’s on him.

You’re not at all against this turn of events.

Not now that he is in front of you, so close you could just reach out and press your body against his, feel his hot breath on your neck or his lips against your breasts.

You push your coat over your shoulder, letting it fall to the ground as you sink to your knees between his legs. His eyebrows rise and lips part, his eyes following you.

“You’ll have to teach me though, headmaster.” You purr. A smirk pulls on your lips. Snape’s surprise lasts for another few seconds before it flickers and morphs to sombre satisfaction.

“Take out my cock.” You can’t help the trembling of your fingers when you reach for the buttons of his trousers. It’s not fear, rather the opposite. You bite your lip and slip your hand into his trousers. He inhales sharply when your fingers close around his cock. He is already half hard and throbs in your hand. Gently you free him and then look back up, waiting for instruction.

You’re not stupid. You know the basics - kinda. You’ve never done this, after all, a fact Snape seems to relish in.

“Dumb slut can’t even suck cock, hm?” He snickers. His insult should offend you. You should get mad and insult him back and get up, storming out of his office in a cloud of rage - you don’t. You get wetter . An uncomfortable wet spot in your knickers - the testament of your decaying moral compass.

‘Fuck it’, you think. ‘Potter is here - we might all die today.’

If the world ends today what does it matter if you’re a traitor? A terrible, depraved, morally corrupt woman that is drawn to you-know-who’s second in command? A man almost as feared as his master?

“Lick it.” His voice cuts through your thoughts. Cold and sharp like an icicle falling from a roof, large and fast enough to pierce through a person. You part your lips and swipe your tongue over the tip of his cock. Snape groans under his breath. He reclines in his chair. The old leather creaks under his weight.

He tangles a hand into your hair, stroking your head as though you’re his loyal pet, seeking its master’s closeness.

You press your flat tongue to his cockhead, licking several hard, broad strokes over it. You place kisses just beneath it and work your way down his shaft, alternating kisses with licks all while dragging your thumb gently over the underside of his cock, just by his cockhead.

Snape’s groans get louder with each pass of your tongue, his grip on your hair tightens.

“Ahhh- fuck….what a good girl- a filthy, dumb slut satisfying her headmaster, huh? Or at least trying. You’re giving this your all, aren’t you girl? How pathetic you are.” He tears at your hair, pulling your head up and pressing your lips against his cockhead. Beads of a milky liquid are gathering at the slit. “So desperate for cock you come all the way here in the middle of the night on the off chance I might be willing to fuck you again.” Keeping your eyes trained on his you catch the liquid with the tip of your tongue. It doesn’t taste as horrible as you feared it would. Salty, kinda bitter.

“Open your mouth.” You do. You obey without hesitation. Snape looks like a king sitting on his throne and you’re the new addition to his harem, learning to please her king in all the ways he likes.

Snape brings your head closer, pulling on your hair, keeping iron-like control of your head. You grab hold of his trousers, clutching the fabric between your still-trembling fingers.

His cock slips between your lips, forcing you to open wider to him, your lips stretching around his girth. Snape looks at you with a mixture of admiration, tenderness and roaring lust and your chest swells with something akin to pride. Pride that you caused such a shift in a stoic, controlled man like Snape. And perhaps hope that Snape is not merely the barbaric Death Eater he is appearing to be. Perhaps there is more to him.

“That’s it, girl-” He groans and drops his head back against his chair, grabbing your head with both of his hands now, forcing it down on his cock. Force is unnecessary of course. You wouldn’t stop doing this even if he wasn’t holding onto you.

You drool over his hard cock while Snape bobs your head up and down, muttering words you can’t hear over your own sputtering and choking and the blood pounding in your ears. Your knickers are ruined at this point. Your cunt clenches around jarring nothingness. You’re so aroused it hurts . There is an unbearable need deep inside you and you can’t- can’t-

You let go of his trouser, dropping your hand between your spread-out knees and under your skirt. Never have you been so wet. Your fingers slide into you without any resistance. You moan around Snape’s cock.

He opens his eyes, blinks as though he isn’t quite aware of his surroundings. His eyes meet yours. You must look pathetic. Drooling over his cock, tears and snot smeared on your face while he uses your mouth to pleasure himself.

“Are you touching yourself, dear?” He coos, his lips curling into a smug grin. Your eyelids drop shut and you moan again. Snape pulls on your hair, plucking you off his cock. You whine both at the sting and the loss of contact. Before you can fully catch up with the situation Snape has gotten to his feet, pulling you with him. He smashes his lips against yours. His hand is securely tangled in your hair, pressing you closer to him while also preventing you from pulling away.

You don’t want to.

You missed him so much. Even though you don’t really know him. Even though you really shouldn’t. He was your teacher and he is a murderer and you don’t give a shit.

You mewl into the kiss and cling to the front of his robes.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” He murmurs against your lips. His hand leaves your hair. He grasps at your arse, squeezing your cheeks in his large hands that have slipped under your skirt. He is grinding you into his erection.

“Snape-” You moan. He forces you back. Your thighs hit the edge of his desk. Snape lifts you up on it and drops to his knees. Your hands tangle into his hair instantly, pulling him closer, parting your legs for him.

“So fucking beautiful.” He repeats, sounding almost dazed. He kisses your knee, trailing up your thigh, inching teasingly, torturously towards where you need him most.

“-Snape…”

“I don’t want to die without knowing how you taste.” Your mind is too far gone, too useless, too lust-drenched to register his words or the pang of worry you would normally feel at hearing them. Just a few minutes earlier you would have noticed the certainty in the word die. Like a man on death row, walking towards his execution.

Snape tears at your knickers, pulling them roughly down your legs.

Hot. His tongue is so hot- heat that sears at your skin, killing and saving you all at once.

You grip his hair tighter and throw your head back. Snape laps at your cunt, licking broad, hard strokes over your folds, pulling moan after pathetic, whimpering moan from you.

Much too soon he stops, leaving you just on the edge of release, suspended in the air, surrounded by heat and desperation and roaring pleasure.

“Snape.” You rasp, your voice strained.

“You’ll cum on my cock or you won’t cum at all, dear.” He says. He probably aimed to sound teasing, in control, smug maybe. But control has long left this room. Neither of you possess a single ounce of it and he sounds equally as needy as you feel. You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him closer.

“Yes, headmaster.” You say. His Adam’s Apple bobs with the hard swallow he takes. He closes his eyes and his jaw tenses.

“Vixen.” He growls and pounces at you. One second you’re sitting, smirking at Snape, the next you’re buried under his weight, pressed down on the desk. He enters you in one thrust, a truly sinful groan falling from his lips. He fucks you rough - much rougher than the last two times. You’re kissing, clicking teeth and gasping for air. Snape pounds into you, his thick cock stretches you open, hitting all the right spots. You cling to Snape, grasping at his sleeves and collar, desperate to touch him, feel him.

Last time Snape clung to you like a dying man to life - now you’re clinging to him like life not ready to let death take what is hers.

“Snape!” He sucks on the delicate skin over your throat, hard enough to leave a bruise.

“I had made my peace with never seeing you again.” He rasps in your ear between feverish kisses. “I don’t- I can’t-” Whatever it is he wanted to say, it’s lost to your shared pleasure. Snape presses his face against the crook of your neck, panting and groaning and you cry out, pressure mounting inside you. Ripples morph to tidal waves, swallow you up, pull you under and lift you up all at once and Snape murmurs something against your collarbone you can’t make out.

You can feel it’s important though.

Crucial, world-changing, momentously significant information and you sob. The worlds slip through your fingers like sand in an hourglass and you hold onto Snape tighter, tighter so perhaps those words aren’t lost- he isn’t lost-

Snape lifts his head and kisses you. Soft, gentle. A stark contrast to before. There’s longing in the kiss, regret and pain and you weave your fingers through his hair and kiss him back, begging for him to shatter your worries because something isn’t right here! You can tell- something-

What aren’t you seeing?

Droplets hit your skin.

Are you crying?

An explosion tears you apart. It’s in the distance, muffled through the many ancient walls separating the headmaster's office from the source. Both of you look up. Snape at once composed, his eyes once more distant. Wetness lingers in them.

“Stay here.” He orders.

“What’s going on?” Is Potter here? Snape has meanwhile straightened up and fixed his clothes and hair.

“Stay.”

“Snape!” You push your skirt down and jump from the table, following him towards the door. He pauses. Tension drawn into every muscle, in the very way he stands, unable to face you. “Please-” Your voice breaks.

“I need you to stay here.”

“Please talk to me.” Now you’re definitely crying.

“I told you this will be over soon. Today’s the day.”

You shake your head. Can he stop being a fucking enigma and just be honest with you for once!

He wants to leave, but you grab his hand and hold him back. He’s trembling. You couldn’t tell before, but touching him now-

He’s scared.

You wrap your arms around his waist and press your face to his back, sobbing.

“I need to know you’re safe. Please- I’m begging you- stay here.” His voice is heavy and crack at the end.

“Severus-”

He swirls around in your embrace and cups your cheeks before kissing you. The kiss tastes of salt…

“It’ll all be over and if it goes according to plan you’ll be free. You’ll be safe. It’ll be over. Promise me- promise me you’ll find happiness. That you’ll live, that you’ll find love and have a family of your own and- that you will be happy and safe and loved !”

“Severus-” Snape presses his lips to your forehead before leaning his own against it. He has his eyes closed.

“Promise me.” He sounds like the words physically hurt him. “Please! ”

“If you promise to come back to me!” You’ve grasped the front of his robes again. Tears stream over your cheeks. Snape doesn’t answer. He gently disentangles your hands from his clothes and with a billow of his cloak he is gone.

You clasp your hands over your mouth and sink to your knees, shaken with silent sobs.

This can’t be happening- this can’t be real. You feel numb. There is no fear left, not even pain which you had expected. You feel empty. Like Snape took a part of you with him when he left.

For a long time, nothing happens. You gather your pathetic self from the ground and drag yourself over to Snape’s chair. Aimlessly you open drawers in search of some liquor. Snape surely would have liquor in his desk, right?

“Bottom drawer, dear.” A warm female voice says. You flinch but quickly remember you are in fact surrounded by a bunch of portraits. You don’t even have it in you to blush.

You open the suggested drawer with more force than necessary. A bottle rolls over the bottom of the drawer. It’s some fancy whiskey. Not that you care. You pick up to bottle and are about to unstopper it when-

A picture lies in the drawer. It was hidden underneath the bottle. With knitted brows, you set the bottle aside and pick it up.

It’s you.

You are in front of the bookshop. Wind is pulling at your hair and snowflakes are falling down on you. You’re laughing and trying to catch them with your tongue.

Why does Snape have a picture of you in his desk? Why is it in his whiskey drawer?

Your mind pictures him sitting here, taking swigs of his fancy liquor and staring at the picture of you.

You should feel uncomfortable. This is- weird. It should be weird.

It’s not.

It doesn’t feel like it at least. It feels of suppressed longing, of a yearning for something he can’t allow himself to have but is unable to let go of.

You can’t stay here. You have a terrible feeling about all this. Something terrible is going to happen.

Leaving Snape’s office you stumble into a war zone. Hexes and curses flash through the air, there are screams and shouts. You duck, draw your wand and join the battle.

It’ll all be over today .

Snape’s words play on repeat in your head. Everything blurs together. You send your nastiest curses at the hooded Death Eaters all while looking out for greasy black hair and slimmer than they should be shoulders.

You don’t find him anywhere.

Out of breath and scared for your life and everyone around you, you wind up in the Great Hall. You’re bleeding from a wound on your head and several gashes all over your arms and upper body of varying severity.

And there you spot him. He’s standing in the middle of the room. The battle seems to come to a halt. The remaining fighters have gathered around the walls of the former dining area. Next to Snape stands Harry Potter and they’re facing you-know-who together-

Wait.

Snape is facing his own master?

A blood-soaked bandage around his throat Snape glares at the pale, noseless monster. He is hunched over, his breaths seem to be laboured.

There’s a duel. Halfway through you-know-who’s red eyes lock with your own. The intensity of the sheer cruelty in his eyes knocks the air from your lungs.

“How ill-conceived of you to bring her here, Severus.” A pale, long wand is aimed at you. Snape swirls around. His eyes widen with shock and fear and accusation.

Everything goes quiet.

Green light speeds towards you. You-know-who turns towards Potter. Snape runs towards you. Potter’s spell hits you-know-who’s in the air.

Snape shouts your name. Droplets of blood fly through the air.

And at once the sounds return, smashing into your eardrums with deafening force. You throw yourself down on the ground. The curse hits the wall behind you. It bursts into shards of stone that fly through the air. Some hit you. Some hit others. You look up, your heart racing in your chest, your fingers tremble from the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You almost died.

Fucking Voldemort almost killed you!

Quickly you look up, gripping your wand tighter, prepared to defend yourself if necessary-

There’s cheering. Voldemort is dead, they shout. You spot the pale figure on the floor with Potter standing over him.

He is dead?

Truly dead?

It’s over-

You let out a laugh somewhere between hysteria and pure joy.

“Severus-” Where is he? He was running towards you- “SEVERUS!”

Heads turn towards you.

Snape is on the ground, surrounded by his black robes, a puddle of deep red blood growing around him steadily. “HELP! HELP! SEVERUS- ” You sprint towards him, dropping to your knees even before you reach him and slipping over the ground. “SEVERUS! SEVERUS! PLEASE-” He is still warm. You gather his slack body into your arms, cradling him to your chest. No no no no no no- please-

“Severus- Severus-” Warm blood sticks to your hands. Too much- way too much.

“Please please- no- Sev- no-” Arms wrap around you, tuck and pull on you, tearing you away from Severus. You scream and flail around, trying to hit whoever is trying to take him from you, take you from him- no-

“SEVERUS! LET GO OF ME! SEVERUS- ”

Madam Pomfrey rushes towards Potter and Snape. She sinks to her knees and waives her wand over Snape’s lifeless body. You give up your fight. You sob and cry and whimper Snape’s name, pleading with whichever deity is listening to you to not take him- no- not now-

“He was on our side all along-” Potter says, his voice cracking. “Dumbledore asked him to kill him- He was on our side-”

You watch the healer work with bated breath. Magic flows out of the tip of her wand in a steady flow, battling whatever had Snape bleeding. Potter has fallen to his knees in the meanwhile. McGonagall is silently crying.

“He’s stable.” Madam Pomfrey says, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “For now at least.” The hands holding you, release you and you scramble off the floor. Snape is lying in a cot the healer summoned. She is already gone, hurrying towards the next victim of this battle needing healing. You have no strength left to care or to even consider helping anyone. Nobody asks you to.

You lie down next to Snape.

“Please don’t die-” You whisper the words again and again until your voice fails you and you just watch his chest rise and fall because as long as his chest is still rising and falling he is still alive.

Your eyes fall shut.

You let them.

For just a moment. A moment of rest.

“I- told you to…stay-” You startle awake. “You never listen…” Black eyes blink at you. Tired but alive. So alive.

“Severus!” You sob and crash your lips against him. A hysterical laugh of relief escapes you.

“Ow- careful-” He groans.

“Sorry sorry sorry!” Quickly you back off. “You’re alive.”

“It would appear so. Believe me, I am as surprised as you are.”

“Idiot! You fucking wanker! How dare you almost fucking die on me again!”

Snape laughs, but it sounds horrible. Like nails on a chalkboard. You heard that Voldemort’s snake tore open his throat and Potter just about managed to save his life.

“I apologise.” He rasps. “Allow me- allow me to take you to dinner. Proper dinner. With at least five courses and wine.”

“As long as you actually show up to the restaurant.” You chuckle and wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“Only a fool would waste the opportunity of a date with you.”

#snape fandom #ao3 fanfic #severus snape #severus snape smut #snape x you #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #dividers by cafekitsune

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benedictscanvas · 2 months

Text

bluebells - remus lupin x reader

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

word count: 0.8k

a/n: i just keep thinking of teeny tiny remus concepts and i have to write them every time. thought it would be fun to do another in the recent universe (1, 2 & 3) from sirius' perspective. this is quite unedited, but i'll have a check on it tomorrow. enjoy sunflowers <3

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“Do you have a secret admirer you haven’t told us about?” Sirius asks, as innocently as he can.

The question has Remus sitting up a little straighter on the stool in your kitchen, just as he intended. Remus may never have spoken to him about his feelings for you, by some miracle, but they were plain as day to anyone with a brain cell between their ears. Sirius was fairly sure you were equally enamoured - but you were harder to read than his precious Moony.

“What are you on about now?” you laughed, able to shrug off the question easily. Sirius sidled up to the tiny vase of flowers that sat on the granite countertop, filled with imperfect bluebells that didn’t look shop-bought.

“Only the very pretty bouquet in your kitchen that someone has clearly picked for you,” he practically purrs, “And don’t try to convince me you picked them yourself, doll, because I know for a fact you haven’t been walking in the woods.”

That only makes you laugh harder, and Sirius knows he’s got you. He’s hoping you’re about to praise whoever picked you those flowers and Remus will get sufficiently jealous to snog you senseless or something. Sirius hasn’t figured out his full match-making plan yet, admittedly.

“Obviously, I didn’t pick them,” you agree, glancing with obvious shyness towards Remus, who already has telltale pink cheeks, “Remus is the one doing all the woodland walking in this group. He is sometimes kind enough to fill my teeny tiny vase for me.”

And Sirius just gapes at you. Then at Remus. He can’t help it, because whatever he was trying to achieve, it is utter madness that Remus himself could be the one to pick you flowers and still neither of you could move past a more than friendly friendship.

Remus is glaring at him now, because he’s clearly been gaping so long that he’s made the whole atmosphere awkward. You turn your attention back to making cups of tea, but Sirius sees the way you fluster. He’s made it weird. He was trying to make it a bit weird, yes, but not like this.

“Sorry, I had to take a second there,” he said, through a half chuckle, “Just struggling with the idea that Moony is bringing you flowers and he’s never once thought to bring some for me?”

Sirius is just charming enough to get away with it. Remus softens, his glare now holding far less scorn and you throw him a smile over your shoulder as you get the milk out of the fridge.

“He likes me better,” you argue playfully, sticking your tongue out at him. Just like that, all awkwardness is gone and replaced by the almost flirting thing the two of you do that drives Sirius mad - he wants to tell you both to give your heads a wobble.

“I can give you the leftovers if you like, Pads,” Remus chimes in, “But I’m afraid the finest flowers are already reserved.”

And Sirius watches Remus smile at you like you’re the sun and moon and all the stars combined, and it melts his heart a little. Who is he to rush you? You grin back at Remus like there’s a secret to be shared.

But of course, Sirius must keep up the facade and so he grunts in annoyance.

“I see how it is. Fifty years of friendship and look where it gets me,” he grumbles, “Pretty sure picking flowers is objectively wrong, too.”

“Drama queen,” you say through a cough, then adopt an instant wide-eyed innocent look when Sirius rounds his glare on you.

“Fifty years? We’re in our twenties Sirius.”

“Friendship like ours defies the laws of nature, honey,” Sirius smirks, and Remus’ nose wrinkles.

“And if you pick flowers in moderation, it can actually benefit their conservation,” you say, placing the three cups of tea on the table and waving Remus over from the island stool to sit with you and Sirius, “So drink your tea and stop whinging, Sirius.”

He gasps in mock offence and then pretends to burn his tongue on the tea, just to see you and Remus roll your eyes at him together. When Remus sits down, he thanks you for the tea under his breath and you smile your brightest at him, squeezing his elbow as you hurry away to get the biscuit tin.

Sirius takes another look at Remus’ lovestruck face even though all you did was touch his elbow. He’s not sure whether it’s cute or slightly sickening, but he glances at the pretty shitty bluebell bouquet on the table again and decides that if the two of you are happy as you are, he won’t try to interfere again.

(it lasts all of thirty seconds, because the two of you gang up on him about biscuit choice as soon as you sit down with the tin, and Sirius immediately decides it’ll be worth it to fluster the two of you, if only for his own amusement)

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders x reader

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0nerd-at-heart0 · 3 months

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The Case Continues

A/N: Thank you for ALL the love and support on my latest fic!!!! ♥ After not writing for a year it felt weird to write again but y'all have been so sweet, so truly thank you to all of you. I just finished 2 of midterms and there was this guy behind me on one of my tests coughing like crazy so now I am sick. While I should take this opportunity to study for the LSATS now that I am stuck in bed, I just had to continue writing. As long as you all continue reading I am more than happy to continue writing. If you want to be added or taken out of the taglist please DM me :)

P.S. : I used the stars to break down the sections for myself as I wrote and kept them in, if they are weird or unhelpful let me know so I can get rid of them and as always feedback is always welcomed

Taglist: @happy74827 @princessvader15 @hashcakes @malfoys-demigod @yiiiikesmish

Word Count: 5.5 k

Warnings: sexual harassment, cursing, pet name like sweetheart, mentions of food and eating (any more warnings that I missed please let me know)

There will be a part 3 after this one, still writing it but if you haven’t please check out the Part 1: The Stress of a Case

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As you finished the last bite of your meal in Rachel’s office, a comfortable silence settled between you and Harvey. Harvey leaned back in his chair, and a sense of relief seemed to wash over his face, "You did well today, Y/N. We'll get through the Jackson case. I promise. Whatever it takes.”

You offered a small, appreciative smile, acknowledging the sentiment. "Thanks, Harvey. It means a lot."

You stared at the clock and the realization that it was time to head home crept in. Harvey, ever the gentleman, offered you a ride, “Come on, I’ll take you home.” He stood up moving the desk back to how he found it and picked up the trash.

However, your need for control and familiarity after the recent panic attack made you decline the ride, "Thanks for the offer, Harvey, but I think I'll take my own car tonight."

A small, almost imperceptible frown flashed across Harvey's face, quickly replaced by his usual composed expression. "Alright." was all he could stammer out.

After parting ways, you walked towards the parking lot, keys in hand. As you drove home alone, a subtle sense of curiosity lingered. What if you had accepted Harvey's offer? What could have unfolded in the confined space of his car, free from the walls of the office?

The thought nagged at you as you navigated the familiar streets, feeling your head cooling off. Rolling down the window to allow the fresh air to overflow your senses There was a part of you that wished you knew the answer, a desire to unravel the mysteries that lay hidden beneath the surface of your professional relationship with the Harvey Specter.

The next few days went by pretty fast. All days felt the same . It was a routine of restless nights as your mind was clear yet foggy on your night with Harvey. Nervous yet excited on what the following days would bring. You woke up early every day to go to your favorite coffee spot. But every day you spent it at your desk going through Amir related emails and one day you spent the day researching organic cat food for Louis. You haven't even had the chance to really see or talk to Harvey, not that you were keeping track ( 3 times he has spoken to you).

But about 10 days after the incident, here you were, standing in the elevator, expecting to be another calm day of going through Amir’s associates emails with Rachel.

But when the elevators dinged, the beautiful face of Donna Paulsen appeared as the door opened. She stood there waiting for you and without saying a word she turned on her heel and gestured for you to follow her. And like a loyal puppy you followed Donna through the corridors, her signature click-clacking heels echoing in the hallways as you tried to keep you.

As you walked, Donna’s voice boomed, efficiently providing a rundown of the latest developments in the Amir Jackson case. Apparently, Amir had signed a contract with his brother-in-law’s firm, and Harvey was currently breaking it down in his office to find any potential weaknesses or loopholes. You were confused but eager to understand your role in all this, so you did your best to keep up with Donna's brisk pace. The details of the case were important, but the question of why Donna was sharing them with you lingered in the back of your mind.

Donna approached Harvey's office, she shot you a sly smile and motioned for you to enter. The door creaked open, revealing Harvey Specter engrossed in his work. Donna whispered, "You wanted to be in the big leagues; well, here you go."

Harvey was seated at his desk, a stack of papers spread out before him. Mike Ross was leaning against the wall, and both turned their attention to you as you entered.

Donna, standing in the doorway, mouthed, "You got this."

It dawned on you—this wasn't just an update on the case. Donna had orchestrated this moment for a reason. You were being given a seat at the table, an opportunity to contribute to a high-stakes strategy session. The realization sent a surge of adrenaline through your veins. Harvey was keeping his word after all.

Harvey and Mike acknowledged your presence, you straightened your posture and mentally prepared to engage in the battle of wits that lay ahead. You are ready to keep up and prove your worth beyond your typing skills.

Mike walks up to you handing you a file, and you take a seat. Knowing the breakdown you take out your colorful pack of highlighter ready to color coordinate. Purple for potential loopholes, yellow for things to research, blue for important dates and green for contacts.

Harvey couldn't help but notice you being meticulously organized. With a smirk, he quipped, "Really, Y/N? Color-coordinated highlighters? Are we in kindergarten?"

You, shot back with a playful smile, "Well, Harvey, some of us appreciate a little order and aesthetic appeal. It's called professionalism."

Harvey raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the quick retort. "Professionalism, huh? I prefer the classic black and white approach. Simple and effective."

You without looking up from your file said, "Well, Harvey, sometimes a splash of color can make things more interesting. Maybe you should try it sometime.” Reaching down to your highlighter bag you pulled one out handing it to him, “Here, I think pink suits you”

He takes it from your hand, not backing down, “You know if your legal skills were as efficient as your highlighting skills we would be done with these files already”

You retorted, “Well, Harvey, if your people skills were as smooth as your hair, we'd have won the case yesterday."

Mike, who had been silently working, looked up with a bewildered expression, unsure of how the banter had suddenly transformed into a flirtatious exchange. He blinked, processing the unexpected turn of events.

Harvey leaned against the table and raised an eyebrow. "Smooth hair, huh? You're just jealous, Y/N."

"Oh, please," you replied with a smirk, "I've seen smoother hair on a mannequin."

Mike, now thoroughly confused, looked between Harvey and you, trying to decipher when this banter became a new development.

Before anything can go any further there is a knock at Harvey’s door, it was Rachel. After hearing from Mike about your little fainting incident, she was kind of overbearingly persistent on making sure you were eating and were okay no matter how much you told her you were fine. Despite your reassurances that the incident of passing out was a one-time occurrence and that you were doing better, Rachel continued to express her care in thoughtful ways.

Today was no exception. Rachel asked to borrow you for a moment. Excusing yourself from your work, you followed Rachel outside the office. She had a warm smile on her face and a bagel in her hand, with your name on it.

"Hey, I know you said you're doing better, but I thought you might need a little pick-me-up," Rachel said, offering you the bagel.

You couldn't help but smile at Rachel's thoughtful gesture. "Thanks, Rachel. You really don't have to keep doing this, but I appreciate it."

Rachel chuckled, "I know I don't have to, but I want to. Consider it my way of making sure you stay fueled and ready to tackle anything."

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While you were outside having that conversation with Rachel, Mike couldn't help but seize the opportunity for a little teasing. Looking at Harvey with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he remarked, "What was that?"

Harvey, ever the master of composure, shot Mike a sharp look. "Shut up and focus, Mike," he retorted, trying to divert attention back to the files.

Mike, undeterred by Harvey's attempt to change the subject, leaned back with a playful grin. "Oh, you're definitely focused on something," he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Harvey rolled his eyes, realizing that he might have just opened himself up to a barrage of teasing from Mike.

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You returned to the office with the bagel in hand, you tucked it away in your bag without giving it much thought. However, Harvey's raised eyebrow didn't go unnoticed. He questioned, "Aren't you going to eat that?"

Unbeknownst to you, the hesitation stemmed from a lingering unease about eating near files, especially in front of Harvey—thanks to the hot Cheeto incident. Harvey, catching on to your reluctance, decided to assertively intervene, "Eat."

You raised an eyebrow, teasing, "Bossy much, Harvey?"

Harvey quickly adds, “Well I am the boss”.

Mike, always quick to jump into the banter, chimed in, "Hey, wait a minute. Rachel didn't get me a bagel."

Harvey, in his usual deadpan manner, responded, "Deal with your relationship drama outside the office”

Mike mumbled to himself though directed at Harvey “you deal with your relationship drama outside the office” as he turned over to the next file.

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Without hesitation you grabbed another file, opening it up you saw on one of the clauses of the contract that it said, “Keep an appropriate reputation”.

You spoke up, “Have we been able to contact his brother in law?”

“Louis is currently on that”, Harvey said nonchalantly.

“Louis?!?!”, the shock in your voice was not hidden at all as your hand went to cover you mouth,

“See even she is shocked’’, Mike gestured towards you as he closed his file.

“Mike you are going to have a deposition with Amir in about an hour and I got to prep you. As much as I'd rather have you do it,” Harvey eyes quickly glance at you before returning to the file in his hand, “I don’t have time to walk you through it, plus Jessica said I have to throw Louis a bone”, Harvey mumbles the last bit.

You nodded, understanding that you were too green to already start interviewing people without supervision.

After an hour of underlining and highlighting things they may be able to use against him, Harvey dismissed you and Mike to prepare for meeting Amir. You gave Mike a questioning look as you exited the office.

The door closed and you could have sworn you heard music playing.

“He has a whole routine when he has a stressful case”, Mike said as he handed Donna a piece of paper to fax.

“Whoa, you are just going to share Harvey’s secrets like that”, Donna added.

“She is part of the group now, she deserves, nay she needs to know”, Mike defensively argued

Donna playfully rolled her eyes and all you can do is laugh.

“Imma go to the conference room and set everything up”, Mike then turned on his heels.

“Why are you meeting with Amir?”, you couldn't help the question come out of your mouth.

“Jessica and Harvey believe he is trying to get in our heads”, Mike causally stated like this is somehow normal, “anyway see you afterwards”.

You headed down to the bullpen with a couple of files in hand for you to review. The bullpen was empty, you saw a memo on your desk that Jessica was holding a mock trial for the associates. You believed she was doing this to boost morale. It's been 3 weeks since the Jackson case was first assigned and every day the stress of the case becomes more evident in not only the partners but everyone.

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All that can be heard was the click-clack of your keyboard as you diligently worked on a memo at your cubicle in. A man walked it, he didn't go unnoticed as he leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his face.

"Working hard or hardly working, sweetheart?" he said with a smug grin.

Startled by his words, you looked up to fully take in this strange man, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement.

"What can I do for you?", you let out an annoyed breath.

He wasn't unattractive, tall, seemed to be built, his dark hair slicked back and his tan figure was highlighted with a beautifully tailored suit.

He ignored your attempt to deflect his trashy pickup line as he leaned in, invading your personal space. "You know, I am here to see Mike Ross, but I would rather be seeing you. What do you say we grab a drink sometime?"

You noticed a wedding ring on his hand and that added to your discomfort which was palpable, and you glanced around, searching for a way out of the situation. Amir Jackson was standing right before you in all his dirty lawyer glory. Before you could respond, the familiar sound of a door swinging opening caught your attention. Harvey Specter stormed into view, his expression colder than the usual glacial demeanor he reserved.

"Amir, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Harvey's tone was razor-sharp, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation.

Amir straightened up, his confident facade faltering in the face of Harvey's iciness. "Just trying to get to know the beautiful talent that sits before me" he replied, attempting to play it off.

Harvey's jaw clenched, and he stepped forward, his presence dominating the small cubicle. "This is not the time or the place for your personal agenda. We're here to work, not to entertain your attempts at charm.", emphasis on the word attempt.

Amir chuckled nervously, realizing he had crossed a line. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble, Harvey. Just thought we could all use a break."

Harvey's stare could freeze time itself. "Save your charm for the courtroom, Amir. Now get lost before I decide to make this a legal matter."

Amir hastily retreated, leaving the cubicle, heading upstairs to interview Mike.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Harvey's gaze softened ever so slightly as he turned to you. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, grateful for Harvey's intervention. "Thanks, Harvey. I didn't know how to get rid of him.” You left a pause before continuing, “Though he was cute”, it was your attempt to lightened the mood

But it seemed that you failed as you could have sworn that Harvey’s eyes darkened.

“Don't tell me he is your type?” Harvey glares, trying to play it off as a playful intrigue. Though behind those words were sharp undertones of jealousy.

Was your type arrogant lawyers? Oh god, you thought to yourself.

“I mean if we are being honest”, you were already regretting the words coming of of your mouth, “I wouldn’t mind drinks with him, if you know he wasn't-”

“A dirty slimeball”, Harvey interrupted.

“I was going to say married but hey your words not mine”, You shrugged as you smiled, tilting your head up to look at him.

Like a switch any sign of a normal human being verison of Harvey goes back to a cold exterior Harvey ", Get back to work. We have a case to win."

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the silence. Louis Litt barged into the bullpen, a triumphant expression on his face. "I got it, I got it!" he declared, his voice echoing through the walls.

Harvey shot him a stern look. "What do you mean, Louis?"

Louis beamed, brimming with excitement. "I met with Amir’s brother in law and we have a plan"

"Louis, I don't like that look on your face. Well, actually, I don't like your face, period," Harvey retorted, his patience wearing thin but shot you a mischievous look as you let out a small laugh.

Just as Louis was about to unveil his plan, you received a text from Rachel, asking for assistance upstairs. Seizing the opportunity to excuse yourself , you made a quick exit, leaving Harvey to deal with Louis's eager revelation.

As you walked away, you overheard Louis saying, "Can I just tell you my plan?"

You missed Harvey's response that carried a tone of indifference, "Louis, I am a lawyer, not your babysitter. You don't need to run your ideas by me. Just do whatever it takes to win."

"Whatever it takes," Louis echoed, his enthusiasm undeterred as he practically skipped out of the room, eager to set his plan in motion.

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The next day, as you were on your way to the copy room, Louis Litt beckoned you into his office. The air in the room felt different, an unusual tension hanging in the air. Louis, with a somewhat secretive smile, asked for your help with a deposition. He believed you were the perfect candidate to handle the client interview. He said he will be there to supervise it all.

Despite the lingering suspicion about Louis's true intentions, you were eager to prove your skills and showcase your capabilities. With determination in your eyes, you took the file full of questions that Louis prepped for you into the conference room, ready to face the challenge. As you were coming round the conference room, Louis excused himself to the bathroom saying he was going to be right back and to start without him.

As you entered the room and set up the camera, you were met with the unexpected sight of Amir Jackson—the person you would be interviewing. Suppressing the internal alarm bells, you maintained a professional demeanor and focused on the task at hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Jackson. My name is Y/N, and I'll be conducting the deposition today. Please make yourself comfortable," you greeted, doing your best to project confidence.

Amir acknowledged you with a nod, “Oh trust me. I remember you. I can't forget a face like that sweetheart”.

You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this deposition than met the eye. As you pressed record on the camera, a pit forming in your stomach as you felt that you were part of a bigger scheme that Louis had formed. But you continued on.

The questions came to an end and Louis was nowhere in sight. You think you did a good job but you really hoped you would have some help guiding you. You were reaching over to turn off the camera when Amir made his way around the table, invading your personal space as he placed his hand on your thigh. You felt disgusting, but you gritted your teeth and tried to remove his hand. His grip just got tighter.

“Mister Jackson, you are married and I am not interested so please let go”, you remained calm.

"This isn't the first time I've given in to another woman's temptation," Amir whispered, his hand slowly making its way up higher. . The situation escalated, and you attempted to stand up, desperate to distance yourself from his unwarranted advances.

Just as the discomfort reached its peak, Louis Litt stepped into the room,

"We got you now, Amir," Louis declared, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Louis revealed that the entire encounter had been captured on camera, since the little red button was still going and Louis left his dictaphone as well. There was enough proof of the man Amir really was

The revelation startled Amir, who looked like he was ready to erupt in anger at being caught.

But a last Amir stammered trying to get his words together.

“I think you should make some calls”, Louis said, his smile not faltering.

Amir, now furious, stormed off, leaving you alone in the aftermath of the orchestrated confrontation.

Anger boiled within you. You were mad at Amir, you wished you had the strength to have slapped him or yelled at him but you froze, your mind was whirling running 100 mph before you can truly comprehend what was going on. Now that it was over you were a teapot full of steam. Ready to blow. The more you thought about it, the more your frustration became directed at Louis.

His dramatic reveal. His smirk. This was the plan all along and you were just his puppet. He knew this was going to happen, he wanted this to happen.

"Why the hell did you put me in that situation?" you snapped, the intensity of your emotions evident.

Louis, unfazed, responded, "It was Harvey's idea. We had to win the case, and trust me this”, he gestured to you and the empty door, “ sealed the deal”

Your anger shifted, now directed at Harvey Specter, the architect of this manipulative plan. The lines between professional strategy and personal boundaries blurred, they have been blurring. But this, this felt like the lines were being drawn all over again, You took a deep breathe as you were left grappling with the aftermath of an uncomfortable encounter.

You stormed out of the conference room.You were shaken and in desperate need of someone to confide in. As you walked down the hallway your bubbling emotions made every step a struggle. In your mind, the need to talk this out with Rachel outweighed any confrontation you might have had with Harvey.

Focused on reaching Rachel's office, you were determined to leave the unsettling incident behind. However, Mike Ross, perceptive as ever, intercepted your path, concern shown across his face.

"Hey, are you okay? What happened back there?" Mike inquired, his voice laced with genuine worry.

The overwhelming emotions made it difficult for you to articulate your feelings. When Mike reached out to grab your hand, hoping to offer some comfort, a reflexive flinch escaped you. The subtle gesture spoke volumes about the impact of the encounter.

"Don't ask like you don't know," you managed to utter, your tone heavy with frustration and disappointment.

Mike was left dumbfounded, his attempts to provide support met with an unexpected defensive response. As you stopped in your tracks, you turned to face him, meeting the bewilderment in his eyes.

"I was Louis’s bait but if this was Harvey's idea, lord knows you were right there beside him. Batman and freaking Robin," you added, the accusation hanging in the air.

Mike's expression shifted to curiosity as he raced down the hall to Harvey’s office, needing an explanation. What the hell did you do now Harvey, Mike thought to himself.

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You sought refuge in Rachel's office. Rachel offered a comforting presence. You recounted the events, finding solace in Rachel's understanding.

"I can't believe he used you like that. I'm so angry on your behalf," Rachel said, her support unwavering.

As Rachel provided a comforting presence for you, on the other side of the office, Mike Ross stormed into Harvey's office, his frustration evident. Ready to give Harvey a piece of his mind for giving Louis the idea to use you as bait, Mike's accusatory words were poised on the tip of his tongue.

But Harvey, surprised by the accusation, defended himself. "What are you talking about, Mike? I didn't allow Louis to do anything."

Before Mike could continue, Harvey's tone softened. "How is she, Mike? Is she okay?"

Mike hesitated, admitting, "She's shaken up, Harvey."

Without sparing another second, Harvey stood up, determination etched on his face. "I need to find her."

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The atmosphere in Rachel's office was heavy as you sat there, still visibly shaken from the encounter with Amir Jackson. You found comfort in spinning your bracelet around your wrist.

Rachel, ever the empathetic friend, suggested a visit to the bakery you both loved, a subtle attempt to bring a touch of sweetness to the somber moment. As she left to fetch the cookies, you stayed seated at her desk chair, staring out of the window.

Harvey stepped in to check on you. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken tension as you looked up, frustration written across your face. You turned back to the window refusing to look at him.

You couldn't hold back the surge of emotions that spilled out. "Fuck you"

You were always so poised, always so put together, Harvey couldnt and wouldnt lie that hearing your curse did something to him. But he scratched that out of his mind, returning to the matter at hand.

Still taken aback by the force of your words, he raised his hands defensively. "I had nothing to do with what Louis did. I wouldn't put you in that position."

But you weren't convinced. "Your motto is 'do whatever it takes to win,' right? I was just a pawn in your grand scheme of things. Last week, after the panic attack, I thought we were okay. I thought we were on good terms, but now I don't know what to believe."

Harvey's expression hardened as he tried to find the right words to reassure you. "You weren't a pawn, Y/N. I didn't know about Louis's plan, and I would never intentionally put you in a situation like that."

You scoffed, frustration and hurt evident in your voice. "Your actions speak louder than words, Harvey. I'm tired of being caught in the crossfire of your 'win at all costs' mentality.”

Harvey, his usual composed demeanor faltering, tried to find the right words to reassure you. The weight of your accusations, was challenging the fragile trust that had started to rebuild between both of you.

You continued to stare out of the window, refusing to meet Harvey's gaze. He could feel the tension escalating, and he knew he had to address the storm of emotions swirling within you.

"Look at me," Harvey said firmly, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere.

You clenched your jaw, still refusing to comply. Unfazed, Harvey moved closer and he bent down a little so he would be eye level with you and with a gentle touch, guided your head to face him. His touch ignited the fuel of your emotions, whether it be rage or something else entirely. There was a fire burning within you.

"I don't like to repeat myself," Harvey stated, his eyes locking onto yours.

You met his gaze, still angry, a tempest of emotions brewing within you. He could see the fire in your eyes and sensed the need for an outlet. "Yell at me," he urged, guiding you to stand up.

You were now facing Harvey, an arm's length between both of you. You took this oppurtunity, you took a deep breath as you let it all out.

"You are insufferably arrogant and stubborn. You're like a shark in a corporate sea, ruthless and cold-hearted. You wield your charisma like a weapon, and everyone else is just a pawn in your game. You bend the rules until they are ALMOST at a breaking point", you go off on a mini rant.

Harvey, with a measured tone, responded, "I don't disagree. The fact that I haven't interrupted you should tell you I take pride in who I am. But one thing you didn’t say and one thing I would never do is hurt the people I care about. Maybe I would occasionally push Mike in front of a slow-moving car, but that's as far as I'd go."

You stifle a small laugh, trying not to give Harvey any satisfaction. But you nodded at him showing that you believed him.

His hand rested on your shoulder as his eyes looked at you with concern. "How are you?" he emphasized.

You shrugged, voicing your discomfort. "I feel kinda disgusting right now."

Harvey's jaw tightened as anger flared in his eyes. "I'm gonna kill Louis," he declared, ready to retaliate.

As he turned to leave you grabbed his arm. "Don't hurt him," you pleaded, your voice holding a mix of anger and compassion. Despite the hurt you felt, you couldn't bear the thought of Louis facing physical harm.

Harvey paused, looking down at your hand on his arm. "I can't promise that I won't give him a piece of my mind, but I won't hurt him physically."

You nodded, acknowledging the compromise.

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The celebratory feeling filled the air in Jessica's office as Harvey stormed in, anger etched across his face. Louis and Jessica stood there, clinking glasses in celebration of what they believed was a triumph in the Amir Jackson case.

"Join us, Harvey! Louis found a way for us to win this case. It's finally over" Jessica exclaimed, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within Harvey.

Harvey's eyes narrowed as he observed Louis making himself small under the intensity of his gaze. Unable to contain his fury any longer, Harvey erupted, "Louis, you pretentious fucker! How dare you do that to her?"

Jessica, puzzled, looked between Harvey and Louis. "Harvey, what happened? Why are you so angry?"

Ignoring Jessica's inquiry, Harvey continued his tirade, directing his fury solely at Louis. "You used Y/N. You put her in a bad situation with Amir. That's a new low, even for you."

Jessica's confusion shifted to anger as she slammed her glass down. "What?"

Louis, feeling the heat of Harvey's wrath, defended himself, "You said to do whatever it takes to win."

" One, you know how I feel about cheating. And two, you know what yeah this is my fault. For half a second there, I thought you would be a lawyer, not try to pimp out my associate," Harvey placing particular emphasis on the word "my."

“Here's the deal," Louis began to explain his plan. "Amir's brother-in-law allowed him to join his firm under one condition: he behaves and doesn't cheat on his sister. Now, Amir signed his contract promising to behave because Amir’s brother in law has a list of evidence that could easily get him disbarred, but his brother-in-law promised not to expose him as long as he kept his promise."

Louis sighed as he continued, "Y/n was the bait, Harvey. She is one of the more attractive associates that Amir couldn't resist. So I let the pawns fall where they should fall and we got it all on camera. Amir's brother in law is going to the association to get him disbarred as we speak. "

Jessica chimed in, "Louis, why couldn’t you let it so Y/N in on the plan.”

Louis nodded, ‘’ I didn't think it would be a big deal”

The room collectively groaned.

"The only reason you don't have a broken nose right now is because she asked me not to hurt you...physically," Harvey declared, his rage simmering beneath the surface.

Jessica, ever the professional, butted in, “Harvey the case with Amir is over now, let me handle Louis” giving Louis a dirty glare before opening the door to her office moving Harvey out the door, “Tell everyone to go home for the night”.

Harvey followed suit, leaving Louis to face the wrath of Jessica. As he closed the door he could hear Jesscia yell, “What were you thinking”

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Harvey's footsteps echoed through the hallway as he made his way to Rachel's office, seeking you out. Upon entering, he found you surrounded by Mike and Rachel, laughing at something as Mike shoved his face with cookies. The look on your face seemed lighter, you appeared more at ease.

Harvey addressed everyone in the room, "Alright, pack it up. Time to go home."

As he spoke, his eyes lingered on you, and he added pointedly, "Especially you. Y/N. No arguments this time, I am taking you home."

Your colleagues exchanged knowing glances, and Rachel and Mike gathered their things to leave. Harvey's directive made it clear that there was no room for negotiation this time; he was taking you home.

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The plush interior of Harvey's car surrounded you, and you couldn't help but feel a bit out of place in the luxurious vehicle. Harvey, however, seemed at ease as he turned to you and casually asked, "Put your location in the GPS."

You entered your apartment complex as the destination. The ride continued in relative quiet,

You were now three blocks away from your apartment complex, when Harvey abruptly took a sharp left. Confused, you turned to him with a puzzled expression, questioning his unexpected turn.

"Harvey, where the hell are you going?" you asked.

He glanced at you, a twinkle in his eyes, and replied, "We both deserve to have some fun tonight."

You saw him pulling up to a bar, one that seemed too classy for you. You were too undressed for this. The doubt clouded your mind.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you couldn't help but ask, "A bar, Harvey, really?"

He looked over at you, the corner of his lips quirked up. "What do you say?" He was parked but hadn't turned off the engine, giving you an out.

You looked over at him and he had that stupid, handsome smug smirk on his.

Not wanting the "what ifs" to take over, you met his gaze and said, "I'm in."

#harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x you #suits #suits tv #suits usa #harvey specter fanfic #donna paulsen #mike ross #Pearson Hardman #Pearson Specter #Jessica Pearson #louis litt #rachel zane

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smokestarrules · 2 years

Note

I want ALL of your Amity's analysis. Do u hear me? ALL, hahaha

ok bet

The family Amity grew up in was very simple: Odalia and Alador are the authority, Edric and Emira can do no wrong (though, of course, it’s more complicated than that), and Amity can never be enough.

Luz was everything Amity wanted to be herself.

She loved Grudgby, but she stopped playing it because she didn’t like the person she was while playing.

She has no fucking idea on how to talk to people, including and especially Willow.

Amity wasn’t going to fucking dissect Luz, and neither was Principal Bump.

Amity Blight does not cheat. That is an essential part of her character. She does not cheat to get to where she is, because 1) Blights don’t cheat (and it doesn’t matter whether or not that’s actually true) and 2) Amity doesn’t cheat. Amity doesn’t cheat because she’s worked hard for every single thing she’s ever been given and cheating would undermine her entire character.

She doesn’t have many safe spaces, so when she does find one, she makes sure to go all-out on making it feel like home.

Amity grew up having to justify every single thing she did to her parents, having to justify her own existence, and that especially includes things she enjoys.

If Luz hadn’t joined Edric and Emira in the library during Lost in Language, the relationship between the twins and Amity literally would have been damaged irreparably. She would have never spoken to them again.

Luz was the first person on-screen to make her laugh.

She is just a little bit dumb sometimes <3

Luz saying “We can fix this together” in Understanding Willow is one of the most monumental moments in Amity’s entire life.

If it weren’t for Luz, Amity almost 100% would’ve campaigned for the role of Grom Queen. Because Luz was there, though, her fears changed, and she knew it.

Amity was going to confess to Luz before she had to go and fight Grometheus in Enchanting Grom Fright, but Luz offering to take her place stopped her in her tracks, because she wasn’t at all ready for that.

Amity’s fear, too, is the culmination of everything she was scared of losing, not just Luz rejecting her advances.

After King’s reassurance in Eclipse Lake, she’s self-aware enough to understand that the similarities between herself and Hunter don’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, and she makes a conscious effort to reach out to him.

She started learning Spanish before she was stranded in the Human Realm in an attempt to further connect with Luz.

Amity does not snoop through Luz’s things even when she thinks knowing more could help because she’s had that happen to her and she understands how small it makes you feel. She is ridiculously emotionally intelligent when it comes to Luz, and, later, when it comes to herself.

She would do anything for her friends.

She’s the only witch who’s ever read The Good Witch Azura series, which she latched onto because it served as a sort of escape for her. She sees herself within Hecate, because despite her wrongdoings, the narrative treats her with kindness. Consequently, the book in which Hecate is effectively redeemed is the only one she hadn’t been able to collect herself.

She sets incredible boundaries with her father. He’s trying now, sure, but that doesn’t take back the years of pain, and it shouldn’t.

Amity gets noticeably more and more silly as the time goes on, because she’s coming back into herself.

Also as time goes on, her magic grows more versatile!

She was not trying to antagonize Willow in Labyrinth Runners, but trying way too hard to protect the person that she had once hurt so deeply. It’s a setback, nothing more, and one that arises from miscommunication. It’s settled, too. They’re on the same page now.

And because of that, Amity is able to let herself be silly with Willow, too!!

She may be the least powerful (certainly one of the least powerful, at least) of the main cast, but that’s a good thing.

It’s also a good thing that we haven’t seen her library hideout since season 1, as cute as it was. She doesn’t need it anymore.

Over time, her relationship with her siblings has improved to the point that they know her well enough to know how to calm her down, and she’s comfortable with them to be able to talk freely about Luz.

Amity still had hope for Odalia, because even after everything she’s done to her, Amity still wanted to believe that she wasn’t all bad.

She tried so hard to make sure Luz also got through the portal in King’s Tide. She would’ve stayed behind if Luz did.

Amity knows full well in Thanks to Them that Luz is feeling guilty, if not the extent of it, and she tries to help out by setting up Halloween costumes that she thinks they’ll both love; Hecate and Azura, which is the thing they bonded over initially.

Recognizing that Luz doesn't feel like she deserves love, Amity quotes her girlfriend to show her that, yes, she does, and this is how much she means to her.

#what? you did say 'all'#god this took a while but it's worth it dhgjkdlfsghdf #toh #toh spoilers #the owl house #the owl house spoilers #amity blight #luz noceda #willow park #lumity #smokey answers #anonymous

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p-taryn-dactyl · 2 years

Note

Hi omg I love your blog so much! You're truly a great writer~ I don't know if you have the time or the inspiration, but could you do a Wanda x mutant!reader where after the iconic and legendary "no more mutants" thingy, Wanda's gf doesn't survive because she needed her powers? And maybe Wanda tries to fix everything? It's totally okay if you can't, or if you need to take your time, truly. Do have a nice day!! <3 and don't forget to drink and eat, please~ and have a proper sleep schedule, too, just a reminder!

a/n: hi!! Thank you so much!! That means a lot to me ❤️Ooo i love this prompt, so much angsty angst. I have to be honest with you tho anon, i haven’t read the House of M quite yet so if anything seems off, it is because i put my faith in google…i apologize. But i think i did ok? Maybe? Anyways thank you for the reminders <3<3, i really appreciate them. I also have to apologize for the angst of this fic, i really snatched that happy ending away :/

wanda maximoff taglist: @nyx-aira @astralqche @exclusivitymajor

word count: 426

warning(s): angst; major character death; not a happy ending; author might be a bit to dependent on google; not quicksilver friendly (?); short

No More Mutants

Air was sucked out of your lungs, the atmosphere around you chilling your bones. You collapsed onto the ground, clutching your chest as you stared at your girlfriend. The words she spoke resonated throughout your body, her magic stripping you of your lifeline.

No more mutants, she had said.

When Wanda opened her eyes, she examined the chaos before her. Mutants, now mortal, were mourning their lost powers, looking at her with hate. But her eyes quickly fell on you, as you crumbled to the ground. Ignoring the hostile environment around her, Wanda ran to you, gathering you in her arms. Panicked, she cupped your face, her fractured mind yelling at her.

“Y/N? Beba, what- why-”

You couldn’t speak, the energy once fueling you fading away. Your mutation is what kept you alive, without it - you were doomed. All you could do was raise a shaking hand to cover Wanda’s, one last symbol of your love.

Wanda didn’t understand what was happening. She didn’t want to kill anyone, she didn’t want to hurt you. Why was this happening?

The realization hit her like a truck.

Your x-gene didn’t “activate” until you had died a few years earlier. She took away your power, reversing you to your natural, mortal state. Dead.

Wanda’s lips trembled as she planted a kiss on your forehead, almost pulling away in shock when she felt how cold you were rapidly becoming. When she did pull away, she couldn’t hold back a sob when she saw you mouthing ‘I love you’, words unable to be spoken. You squeezed her hand one last time before…

Wanda let out a scream, a blast of power radiating from her body, throwing everyone around her backwards. She pulled you into a hug, your limp body shaking with her cries.

“No, no, I can, I can fix this.” She spoke under her breath, her magic swirling around you. But before she could cast the spell, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Quicksilver looked down at his sister, a blank look on his face. Wanda snarled as she brought you closer to her, shielding your body from him.

“You told me to do this, you told me it would fix everything!”

Quicksilver just shook his head, removing his hand from Wanda.

“You did fix everything, sister. But you cannot fix this, death is not something we play with.”

Wanda’s eyes glowed a dangerous red, her power blasting her brother away from her. She let her magic flow through you once more, snarling at her brother.

“Watch me.”

a/n: ik this is super short and i am very sorry about that!! i love this prompt and enjoyed writing it, i just was afraid of messing up the lore too much but thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it! Bc of the ending, i am willing to write a part 2, if anyone would like that!

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number1mingyustan · 2 years

Text

Kiss Me Thru the Phone ☾ ♡

bf!minghao x fem!reader

Warnings: mutual masturbation (m.+f), fingering (f.), dirty talk, phone sex, voice kink ??

Summary: Your boyfriend misses you but he thousands of miles away.

Word Count: 1.3k

(a/n: shocking news !! i didn’t proofread)

Minghao couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing and turning for the last 20 minutes. It’s been like this almost every night for the past week. There were two reasons.

One being that he was sleeping in his bed from his teenage years which was far too small. And the other being because you weren’t there. He missed your scent, your cuddles, your warmth.

He’s gone back to China to stay with his family for two weeks, but it had been less than a week and he missed you like crazy. He loved being with his family again, he truly missed them. But that was during the day. When nighttime fell, he needed your comfort.

The two of you talked as much as you could, but the drastic time zone differences made it hard alongside your work schedule.

He groaned when he saw the clock, reading 2:43 a.m. He grabbed his phone, deciding to text you.

minghao <3

You were watching a movie in bed when you heard your phone vibrate on the nightstand next to you. You picked it up curiously, only to see that your boyfriend had texted you.

y/n 🤍

shouldn’t you be asleep

minghao <3

can’t

i miss you

y/n 🤍

i miss you too

minghao <3

i wanna bring you with me next time

y/n 🤍

i’d love that

but it depends on my work schedule

minghao <3

i know that

it’s just hard here without you

y/n 🤍

i get it

i’ve resorted to cuddling the pillows

and wearing your clothes a lot bc i can’t have you here

minghao <3

fr? like rn?

y/n 🤍

yeah

minghao <3

lemme see

y/n 🤍

Attachment: 1 Image

minghao <3

i’m calling you

Before you knew it, your phone screen changed, a dark screen with red and green buttons appearing. You hit accept, placing the phone against your ear.

“Hi sweetheart,” you heard on the other end of the line. Your heart fluttered at the sound of the name. His voice was quiet but raspy. You could tell he was still tired.

“Hi,” you replied.

“You look pretty in my shirt baby,” he complimented. “Wish I was there with you.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “Me too. It’s so boring around here.”

“What are you doing right now?” he asks.

“Watching a movie, but it’s not that go-”

You start to hear his breathing pick up, which causes you to stop mid sentence. His breathing grows heavier, and it’s just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Baby?” You ask.

“Hmm?” He responds.

“You okay? You sound a little-”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Just keep talking. Tell me what you did today.”

You hear slight shuffling in the background, but don’t pay much mind to it as you continue telling him about your day. You’re not saying anything too important, mostly just rambling about your previous events. However, you’re halfway into telling him about one of your coworkers when you hear his breathing grow heavy again. He’d been silent most of the time, so it suddenly caught your attention.

“Minghao?”

“Oh fuck,” he whines. “Can you say that again?”

You feel a rush of heat dart down to your core. It wasn’t until now that you realized what he was doing. You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to help with your aching heat.

“Minghao,” you repeat. “What are you doing?”

You hear him sigh on the other side of the line. “What do you think I’m doing?”

He’s teasing you. You could be very oblivious, but now he knows that you know. He knows that you’re flustered right now and working your way up to feeling equally as horny as him.

He smirks when he doesn’t hear you respond. “I missed your voice. Feel like I haven’t spoken to you in ages.”

His voice is still hushed, probably because he doesn’t want to wake up the rest of his family.

“Yeah,” you whisper in agreement. Your fingers travel down your naval, stopping on your panties. You slowly rub yourself through the cloth, pressing down to feel your wetness deep through the material.

“Are you touching yourself baby?” he asks.

You bite down on your lip. “Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he replies. You hear more shuffling before he speaks again. “Can you rub your clit for me, please?”

His voice is whiny and quiet, only turning you on more. You slip your hand into your panties, allowing your fingers to rub small circles around your sensitive bud.

“Shit,” you whisper. You moan at the self inflicted pleasure, which your boyfriend absolutely loves to hear.

“Sweetheart you sound so sexy right now,” he moans. His voice is unsteady and you can hear movement through the phone. His pace doesn’t falter as he touches himself. He’s desperate to get off, hand stroking his length quickly.

You push two fingers into your aching core, moaning out his name.

“That’s it baby,” he cooes. “Fuck your fingers.”

You whisper out a few ‘yeahs’ with your hand thrown back as you pleasure yourself. You fingers are soaked in your arousal, slipping in and out of your hole with ease.

“Not big enough,” you whimper to yourself.

You hear him curse through the phone. “ ‘S okay baby, open your legs and think about me.”

You nod frantically even though he can’t see you while doing as he says. You slide your panties off, spreading your legs embarrassingly wide. With one hand holding the phone, you continue to fuck yourself with your fingers. Having shifted positions, it’s easier to push your fingers deeper into your core. You allow your hips to buck up, meeting the thrusts of your fingers.

Whimpers and moans spill out your mouth incessantly as the image of your boyfriend pounding into you clouds your mind. You feel your orgasm starting to approach, quickening as his hushed moans and groans continue to stimulate you.

He’s still quiet, but he’s just loud enough for you to hear. His hushed voice is so sexy, especially when combined with the raspiness due to how late it was.

“Ha,” you breathe out weakly. “Gonna cum. F-Fuck, gonna cum.”

“Me too,” he replies, holding back a moan.

You unfold seconds later, your orgasm coursing through your lower body. It’s so intense that your phone slips out of your hand and onto the bed. You’re too swept up in pleasure to notice as your body spasms and shakes.

On the other end of the line, Minghao continues stroking himself to the sound of your loud moans until his orgasm hits. A wave of pleasure washes over him as he cums. White ropes of hot cum shoot out the head of his cock, spilling into a tissue. He buried his face into a pillow to suppress his moans and he body squirms.

He hears you panting on the other side of the line as he too catches his breath with a satisfied smile. He cleans himself up, disposing of the tissue and dressing himself properly.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you pants. “Can’t believe you were touching yourself while listening to me talk about my day.”

He chuckles. “Sorry baby, I wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. My mind was elsewhere, your voice is so sexy.”

You let out a fake scoff. “Rude.”

He starts easing into his post-orgasm exhaustion, feeling the sleepiness start to take over. It’s silent for a moment before you speak.

“Tired?” You ask.

“Mhm,” he nods.

You roll onto your side, adjusting the phone in your hand. “Okay baby, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

You smile to yourself. “You’re welcome. I love you.”

He yawns. “I love you more.”

And even though you’re not there, he falls asleep with the sound of your soft voice ringing in his head. It’s all he really needs to help him sleep at night.

——————————————————————————

#seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #the8 x reader #the8 #xu minghao #minghao smut #kpop

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uloelu · 3 days

Text

Location: Windslar, Windenburg

(transcript under the cut)

Episode 4 | Previous | Next (Part 2)

So...I lied. This episode is actually going to be 3(!) parts long, mostly because the dinner with Audreyanna's dad and Brylee is going to be...well, you can imagine how that's going to go. Part 2 should be up within the next 24 hours, and part 3 on Tuesday--though I'm going to be traveling this week, so don't quote me on this schedule. Hope you enjoy getting to know the foster moms a bit better! I felt bad for neglecting them so much thus far.

Episode 5: Mother, Mother - Part 1

Scene 1 - Inside 28 Windslar

[Audreyanna and Evelyn lie sleeping.]

Alarm clock at 7:30 AM: bzzt! bzzt! bzzt!

Audreyanna (giving Evelyn a wet smooch): You’re in a good mood today.

Evelyn: A day off will do that to anyone. And no kissing before you brush your teeth, remember?

Audreyanna: [sighs} Fine, I’m going.

Evelyn: Or sighing.

[Audreyanna enters the bathroom and starts brushing her teeth.]

Evelyn (from the bedroom): It’s a nice day out. We should do something fun today! Windenburg’s going to get a lot of rain soon.

Audreyanna Can’t. Long day at work, then a dinner obligation that I unfortunately can’t skip.

Evelyn: Dinner? Ooh, who with?

Audreyanna (mumbling around her toothbrush): I’ll tell you later.

Evelyn: That’s too bad. I’ll see if any of the kids want to take a walk with me after school.

[Evelyn goes downstairs and looks at the house’s shared calendar.]

Evelyn: Or not, I guess. Soccer practice, shifts at work...“prior commitment”? Thanks for being cryptic, Josh.

Audreyanna (from upstairs): Can you—

Evelyn: Make you a cup? Sure, though I’m not sure how you heard me from all the way up there. Morning, Heather.

Heather (rushing out of the house): Sorry, can’t talk. Rani’s waiting for me so we can take the train together.

Evelyn: What about the others?

Heather: Already left!

Scene 2 - Outside 28 Windslar

[The two foster moms sit on a swinging bench on their patio, drinking coffee.]

Evelyn: Kids all gone?

Audreyanna: Yep. Don’t think we’ve had the house to ourselves since we moved in. I like it.

Evelyn: Forgot to tell you—I’m taking Bobbie to the petting zoo in a few hours.

Audreyanna: Let me guess: your brother begged you to get her out of the house?

Evelyn: Yeah, but I don’t blame him. She’s antsy to start school, but she has to wait until the fall. That’s forever to a five-year-old.

Audreyanna: No kidding.

Evelyn: And now it’s my turn to guess. You’re having dinner with your dad, aren’t you?

[Audreyanna is silent.]

Evelyn: Busted.

Audreyanna: It’s not what you think, okay? We haven’t spoken since Christmas. I’m still low-contact. A dinner is...a concession.

Evelyn (sipping from her mug): Mm.

Audreyanna: A way to keep him at a respectable distance. I don’t want him to come poking around in my life. You remember how that went last time.

Evelyn: Audreyanna, you’re almost fifty.

Audreyanna: Don’t I know it.

Evelyn: I’m just saying that, at this point, you can put your foot down. We’re not little girls anymore.

Audreyanna (pulling Evelyn to rest against her chest): C’mere. You’re too far away.

Evelyn: Trying to be cute isn’t going to change my mind.

Audreyanna (pausing before speaking): You’re right, okay? But I need to do this on my own time. Ever since Mom died, the thought of finally pulling away has been too painful for me to even think about.

Evelyn: I could come with you, if you’d like.

[Audreyanna snorts.]

Evelyn: Hey, don’t laugh. Anyone facing down dinner with your father and Brylee needs major moral support.

Audreyanna: I appreciate the offer. Honest. But this is something I need to do on my own. And I love you, babe, but even you can’t handle Brylee.

Evelyn: Hmph. That’s what you think.

#the sims 4 #ts4 #sims #the sims #sims community #the sims community #my sims #simblr #sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #ts4 simblr #fosters #fosters s1 #audreyanna brookestone #evelyn walker #heather ranunculus

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getsojaded · 2 years

Text

part i: non-refundable || calum hood

word count: 1.8k

warnings: swearing

a/n: weeeewww mini series in da works lfggg. i got this idea based of those tiktok’s where exes break up but they still go on their planned trip together bc they can’t do anything abt it hence the name of the series LOL hopefully this doesn’t turn into a shit show!! lmk ur thoughts xoxo

—

You’re casually scrolling on your laptop, looking through your old emails and clearing out any unimportant ones. You had a habit of signing up for one too many subscriptions, resulting in your email inbox constantly being clogged.

“Why did I even sign up for the Gymshark newsletter? I stopped going to the gym three months ago,” you sighed to yourself, earning a laugh from your roommate, Gabriella as you unsubscribe from the athleisure apparel website and delete, yet another email. You take a look at the email below the one you had just deleted, as the words Flight 1120 Confirmation caught your eye. You forget for a moment how this ended up in your inbox, but the memory almost instantly catches up to you and your breath hitches.

“No fucking way.” You say to yourself outloud, causing your roommate to look over at you. “What happened?” She asks concerningly, and you shift your laptop towards her, giving her a clear sight of the email you clicked on. “You forgot you’re going to Japan?” she asks, confusedly. “I forgot I’m going to Japan.” You copy her words. Her face is still laced with confusion, wondering what could be so bad about forgetting a trip you planned. “Sorry Y/N, I’m not picking up what you’re putting down.”

“I forgot I’m going to Japan with Calum.” You state, holding your head in your hands. “Oh. OH.” Gabriella then comes to the realization of how severe this situation is. “What are you going to do?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? I haven’t talked to him in like, 5 months! Do I just contact him out of nowhere and be like, ‘hey, I know we haven’t spoken since we broke up but is our Japan trip still on?’?” You’re now panicking, getting up from your seat and pacing around your shared living room. “Okay okay, let’s calm down for a moment. Maybe you still have time to talk to him about it, and refund the ticket. Let’s not get too worked up here,” Gabriella attempts to reassure you, moving your laptop closer to her and searching up the terms and conditions. “Here, refund and exchange inquiries.” She clicks on the link, and you lean over her shoulder, eyes grazing over the screen. “Okay, it says that you can refund your ticket if your scheduled flight is more than 4 weeks away. Let’s check when your flight is.” She switches tabs, going back to the email with your ticket and confirmation. “Scheduled flight is June 27th. What day is it?”

Your eyes dart over to the top right corner of your laptop. June 14th. “No fucking shot,” You groan in defeat, taking a seat beside your now, concerned roommate. “I have two weeks to bring this stupid trip up to him?!” You exclaim.

“Y/N.. I would do everything in my power to get you out of this if I could. However, the only way you’re going to deal with this is by talking to him. Is it going to be that hard? Did you guys end off that badly?” Gabriella asks you, and your mind shifts over to the last time you had seen your ex-boyfriend.

—

“You know I love you.” Calum states, taking a hit of his cigarette. It’s about 2 in the morning, and you two have been having a heavy conversation, to say the least. About the two of you, your relationship, and life itself. Tears have not fallen just yet, but you’d be lying if you said that you haven’t blinked back them multiple times tonight.

Calum’s not speaking much. You’re used to it. After being with him for 3 years, you’ve grown to appreciate how closed off he is about certain things. However, tonight is not one of these nights to hide your emotions.

Calum is a week away from heading off on the 5th 5SOS tour, and the day he arrives home, you’re off to Canada for a few months for a couple of business trips. This is a recurring event, only beginning to happen about a few months ago, where one leaves, and then when they come back, the other has to take off. You and Calum are both well aware of the situation that your careers have put you through, but neither of you have had the courage to speak up about it. Until tonight. Except, you had to be the one to bring it up.

“You know I love you too. It’s just.. we’re not aligning. You’re gone half the year because of touring and the moment you come back, I’m off on another business trip. How many times has this happened? And how many times have we not talked about it? We can’t keep ignoring the elephant in the room that’s been here for months, Cal.”

Calum’s head is in his hands, sighing at the complications of this conversation. He has a bad feeling about the outcome of your relationship by the end of the night, but tries his best to ignore it, despite the large pit in his stomach. “I’m not sure what you want me to do here, Y/N.” he replies bluntly, unable to put his thoughts into words.

You start to grow annoyed with the lack of response in his statements. “Can you at least try to say something helpful? It feels like I’m the only one trying to put effort into salvaging our relationship!” You exclaim, getting up from your seat and walking around, trying not to get too heated.

“I just fucking said that I don’t know what you want me to do! What fucking else do I say?!” Calum is now angry, harshly throwing his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his shoe. “Want me to tell you ‘oh don’t worry baby, we’ll figure this out and we’ll be all sunshine and rainbows’? We can’t figure this out, Y/N. I think you know what I’m going to say.”

Calum regrets his words instantly, the moment he sees the pain planted onto his lover’s face. “Y/N, wait-” “I don’t wanna hear it, Calum.” She cuts him off, and his heart stops at the use of his full name – aside from tonight, he can’t recall the last time she’d call him that. “If that’s what you’d like to do, throw the last 3 years away without even trying to have a proper conversation about it, then so be it.” She angrily spits out, wiping the uncontrollable tears from her eyes. Y/N quickly gathers her keys and phone, and starts walking towards the front door. “It was nice knowing you, Calum. I’ll grab my shit when you leave.” Are the last words she says to her now ex-lover, slamming the door on her way out.

—

“Pretty fuckin’ badly,” you mumble, trying to ignore the pang in your chest after reflecting back on the last time the two of you had seen each other. “Gab, I’m fucked. I have no idea what to do.”

“You’ll figure it out, Y/N.” Gabriella takes notice of your distress, and pulls you in for a comforting hug. “I’m sure Calum doesn’t hate you, and is willing to have a civil conversation about this.” You pull away, with doubt written all over your face. “I don’t know about that one, Gab…” you trail off, zoning out for a minute, before an idea comes to your mind. Your eyes widen ever so slightly. “Wait, I’m going to call Luke.”

“Luke? Why Luke?”

“Maybe he can go on the trip with Calum instead of me,” you suggest, grabbing your phone and dialing his phone number.

3rd Person POV:

All four boys are currently at Michael’s house, enjoying their well deserved break from music. They’re currently on Michael’s Playstation, trying to beat each other in FIFA. The music in the background comes to an abrupt stop, causing Luke to get up and grab his phone, as he’s the one on aux. “Hold on one second, I’m getting a phone call.”

The other three pay no mind to it, continuing their game as Luke leaves the room for a brief moment. Just as he closes the door, all three boys can hear his faint voice say “Y/N, what the fuck, how have you been?”

Michael and Ashton turn towards Calum, who now has a confused look on his face. Michael pauses the game, as Ashton asks his two friends beside him, “Did I just hear what I think I heard?” Michael, with wide eyes, nods his head slowly and Calum’s expression hasn’t changed. He’s frozen in place, almost. Even the sound of her name still has such an effect on him.

“I wonder why she’s calling..” Michael trails off quietly, and Calum quickly shakes off the emotions he had just felt. “Unpause the game, it’s probably nothing.” Calum states nonchalantly, Michael following his friends’ words and continuing to play.

Luke doesn’t come back for another 10 minutes, and when he does, he walks out with concern written all over him. Michael feels like it’s a good time to pause their game once again, and when he does, Luke sits down in his previous spot and asks Calum, “Are you supposed to go on vacation with Y/N in two weeks?”

“What the fuck?”

“Bro.. what??”

Calum, this time, is now actually frozen in place with wide eyes. Completely forgetting about the trip you two had planned, he has no idea what to say. “Y-yeah, I am. I forgot about that,” he manages to get out. “Well, she just called me, saying that the tickets you two bought together are non-refundable now. She asked me if I wanted to go with you so that the ticket doesn’t go to waste, but I’m heading off to Vietnam with Sierra a couple days before.” Luke states, rubbing his chin.

Calum doesn’t know what to feel. How is he supposed to feel? He feels a bit upset that she contacted Luke before contacting him, but at the same time he’s relieved. He doesn’t think he’d be able to face her without any sort of warning beforehand. He’s wondering if you had forgotten about the trip as well, just like him. His heart rate is at least 120 beats per minute, and his thoughts are all over the place, and the first thing he is able to say is “Can either one of you come with me?”

Ashton and Michael look at each other, and Michael’s the one to speak up first. “Did you forget I’m going back to Australia in three days? What about you, Ash? Last hope.” Calum looks at Ashton, who has a disappointed look on his face. “Nah man, my family’s coming in next week.”

Calum groans in defeat, throwing his head back, closing his eyes. “Well fuck.” he states, causing the three other boys to eye each other with concern. “What are you gonna do, man?” Luke asks, causing Calum to shake his head.

“There’s only one thing to do.”

“Which is?”

“Call Y/N and figure this shit out ASAP.”

#5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer smut #5sos imagine #5sos #calum hood #ashton irwin #michael clifford #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #calum hood imagine #michael clifford imagine #ashton irwin imagine #luke hemmings smut #calum hood smut #michael clifford smut #ashton irwin smut

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