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natailiatulls07 · 1 day

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Lando Norris x Female!reader

Summary - She's a workaholic, he just wants to help but she won't listen

Warning - Reader working herself raw, angst but fluff ending

A/n - I'm trying to answer all your requests, I promise, but I've been struggling alot with my mental health and college recently so please be patient 🫶🏻

She was at it again. Every once in a while Y/n would work herself to the bone with her work, her fitness, etc. Every time there was a routine to it - An unhealthy and tiring routine. It was just something she’d do and no one knew how to pull her out of that routine. Well one person did and over time he learnt how to pull her out of it - Her own best friend.

Each time he’d collected her up into his arms, away from her desk and through the hall to her plush and abandoned couch. Lando would wrap himself around her, shielding her from the world and he would help her relax. That man was her safe space. Every single time.

“I hate when you do this to yourself” He mumbles. His green eyes flicker down to her, seeing her shoulder so tense pains him really.

A small and sarcastic chuckle escapes her lips. They had this conversation before and it’s becoming repetitive now - maybe she should listen to him sometime soon. “Mmh I know” Y/n mumbles into his firm chest, she can feel his calloused hand stroking her hair. The formula one driver lets out a heavy sigh, much like the female on his chest he also knows the common conversation between the two.

A frown tugs on the ends of her lips as Y/n pulls her head away from his chest. “I need to get back to work…” She mumbles, actively avoiding eye contact and moving to stand up from her couch.

Immediately Lando can see how tense and rigid she is again - It was hard not to notice it. “No no, you need rest” He urges, his British accent is soft and worried. “You’re wearing yourself out, Y/n. Please just listen to me, I don’t want to see you hurt” Although it felt like he was controlling her, the man just really didn’t like seeing like this.

Shaking her head rapidly, Y/n struggled to tug her hands away from his. Having taken her hands in his, Lando did this to slow her and to calm her. “Lando please, I need to work…” It was getting heated now.

There was a look of concern behind his eyes. “Y/n, you need to rest.” He wasn’t about to let her walk right back into her death. “You are not going to work. All you’ve done is work yourself to the ground. Y/n do you even hear me right now?”

“No! It’s okay Lando…” She’s pleading with him now - not understanding the damage she was doing to herself.

Lando continues to grip onto her wrists, he was determined to get his best friend to take a deserved break. “Y/n, it’s far from okay!” His voice held conviction. “A break is what you need, this cycle you’ve put your body through will eventually lead you to breaking down and we both know that it’s unhealthy!” Unknowingly tears began to form in the white of his eyes the more she resisted.

“Get out.” Silence followed the two words. Never did they fight nor did Y/n ever raise her voice. “You need to get out of my apartment. Now.” There’s no room for discussion.

His jaw falls and he’s in total shock. “What?” The driver breathes out. The grip on Y/n’s wrists loosens and falls. Having been nothing but supportive and kind, he felt betrayed. And then he shook his head - completely refusing to leave even when practically ordered to.

“You need to get out of my apartment. Get out now!” There’s venom behind her voice as she shouts.

“No!” The two are in a shouting match by now. Lando could feel his frustration boiling and his temper becoming untethered. “I’m not leaving you like this. You need to see that rest is needed. You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t” His fists clenched. All the formula one driver wanted to do was to help - not hurt her.

Y/n sighs, realising that he won’t listen to her. “Fine. You can stay but don’t think you can stop me from working…” She narrows her eyes, pointing a finger towards the British man opposite her. “Unlike you, Lando Norris, some of us have to work our ass’ off every single day to just live!”

Maybe she was right, maybe he was being selfish. But Y/n was killing herself with every coming day, anyone could see it. All Lando could do was sigh and nod his head. At least she was allowing him to stay, this way he could help.

“Thank you…”

It had been two hours since Lando had seen Y/n. She had left him to settle herself in her office, back to the non stop typing. He was getting anxious and worried now.

Pausing the film he was watching, the driver moved from the couch and down the bright hall to her office. Listening from outside, he hadn’t heard anything. And when he slowly opened the door, there she was asleep.

She looked so peaceful and relaxed. The corners of Landos lips curved into a smile. He really did love her and to see her finally at ease made him happy.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed…” He whispered, wrapping his arms around her before picking her up and carrying her to bed. Lando made his way out of the office and down the hall again to her bedroom.

As he was trying to open the door, Y/n started to stir. “Lando…?” Her voice filled with confusion and tiredness. Opening her eyes, the woman looked up at him to see his growing goatee and loveable smile.

“Shh…go back to sleep sweetheart…” His voice was soft and gentle. Y/n felt like a princess right now as she slowly closed her eyes and fell back into a delicate slumber. “I love you so much…” Lando whispered as he lowered her down onto the plush bed - she didn’t hear him, he could only wish she did.

#formula one #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #formula one x y/n #f1 x y/n

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arc-misadventures · 3 days

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That Backfired, Sorta?

Salem standing over a bruised, and beaten, Jaune Arc bound to a chair. Preparing to interrogate him for information on the, Relic of Destruction.

Salem: I do find torture quite ineffective as a means of extracting information. So I choose to use more refined methods of information.

Jaune: Like… Grimm mind bugs that dig into my brain to get information?!

Salem: No.

Jaune: Oh that gods…

Salem: The shock from the bug going in kills them before anything can be extracted.

Jaune: Eh?!

Salem: Besides I have a far more effective means of getting information.

Jaune: Like what?

Salem: I can read minds.

Jaune: You can?!

Salem: I can.

Jaune: If you can do that, why did you beat, Oscar to a pulp instead of doing that?

Salem: Ozma.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Fuck that’s a good reason… B-But, you shouldn’t read my mind!

Salem: And, why shouldn’t I do that?

Jaune: You just shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t do that!

Salem: Oh~? Afraid I’ll find what I’m looking for if I do?

Jaune: I prefer if you did honestly…

Salem: Alright then. Let’ssee where your little friends have hidden my Relics!

Salem stared at, Jaune in the eyes, as a pearlescent screen covered her eyes as she stared into the depths of, Jaune’s.

Salem: “Now then, lets see what you’re trying to hide~!”

Jaune: P-Please … Stop!

Jaune could hear her voice in his head, he yelled in fear as she opened a door leading to that secret he was trying to keep away from her.

She smiled as she forced her way through the door, and as she entered the room in his mind her smile swiftly fell.

Salem: “W-What is this?”

Salem: “ … “

Salem: “Wait… i-i-is he kissing me?!”

Salem: “Why is he taking his shirt off?!”

Salem: “Ohh~! D-Did he just grab my b…?”

Salem: “Why is he taking his pants… Oh…? Oh my~!”

Jaune: What’s going on?!

Salem: “Really? Do you think you can so easily bed a, Queen with just that”

Jaune: B-Bed?

Salem: “Mmm~! So forceful~!”

Jaune: Get out of my head!

Salem: “What is this position?”

Jaune: The fuck are you talking about?!!

Salem: “You are so, so much bigger than, Ozma~!”

Jaune: Uhh…? Context?

Salem: “Inside? But, what if…? No… that’s precisely what you want, isn’t it?”

Jaune: What is it that I want?

Salem: “Oh you naughty boy~! Oh, what’s this? Aww… it’s over already?”

Jaune: What’s over already? Ahh?! What the hell are you looking at?!

Salem: “Oh? What’s this…?”

Jaune: What now?!

Salem: “My hand…? Is that… is that a ring? And, wait… my belly…”

Jaune: A ring, belly? Whaaaa?

Salem; “A boy…?”

Jaune: Eh?

Salem: “I never had a boy before…”

Jaune:Okayyyyy…?

Salem: “Oh, what’s this? Your mother’s record?”

Jaune: What record…?

Salem: “I could beat that, easily~!”

Jaune: What?!

Salem: “Wait? W-Where’s my baby boy?! Where’s my child?! And, whose hand is this?! Wait… This is… this is your hand…”

Jaune: My hand?

Salem: “Why is it all so wrinkly? Wait, no! Nonononono! Don’t tell me! Not again?!”

Jaune: What are you talking about?

Salem: “Y-You’re not leaving me…? B-But… you’re dying…”

Jaune: I’m dying?!

Salem: “In my heart…? you’ll always be with me… even if it’s just as a beautiful memory in my heart…?”

Salem: “I won’t be alone? How is that… My children…? My grandchildren…”

Salem: “I won’t be alone… I will still be loved… I will have a family…?”

Jaune: Okay stop this! G-G-Get out of my head!

Salem red eyes came back into view. She stared at, Jaune as she stood up, unsealing the bands that bound him to the chair.

Jaune rubbed his wrists as he watched, Salem take a nervous step away from him as a shy blush spread across her face.

Salem: Y-You said your name was, Jaune right?

Jaune: Yeah…?

Salem: So… do you want to try beating your mother record now, or would you prefer if we waited till after you’re body has healed?

Jaune: What are you talking…?!

Jaune stopped talking as he noticed something peculiar.

Jaune: “Why is she rubbing her thighs like that? The last time I saw a woman do that was when, Terra ask me to…?! Oh… Ohhhhhhh!”

Jaune: …

Jaune: N-Now is good…

Salem: Wonderful~!

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby salem #rwby ozpin #oscar pine #terra cortta arc #jaune x salem #salem x jaune #rwby grimmknight

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norrizzandpia · 1 day

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hey, totally ok if it’s not ur vibe, but i’d love to see an oscar fic where he’s helping his girlfriend or a childhood best friend when she’s feeling a bit down.

i keep thinking about that man helping clean a depression room and telling his girl not to be embarrassed and he’s there to help and they get it sorted and he just holds her. makes sure she’s eaten and drank something.

even if it’s just a drabble, i’d really appreciate it :) need that kinda care in my life rn, even if it’s fictional.

I made this girlfriend because it just felt softer idk

To Be Loved Is To Be Seen (OP81)

Summary: Oscar knows his girlfriend well and it’s obvious to him when she starts breaking down. He’s happy to help or, more specifically, remind her how worth it she is.

Warnings: this one is HEAVY on the family trouble, depression, anxiety, VERY ANGSTY but def cutest HAPPY ENDING

Note: i didn’t know if you wanted reader to be in a rut or have a reason for it so i just made a reason

Y/n’s first few months of university were hard. Not only was it due to the new course load, but also because of her parents lack of interest when it came to her life. It had been a gradual shift, starting from her last two years in high school and only getting stronger as time went on. They had always been there, overbearing at times, but, now, they posted pictures of their trips around the world, failing to answer her calls and texts. She felt selfish for wanting her parents’ attention as much as she did, but it was hard to fight. There were situations she had never dealt with before, she wanted her mom’s wise words and father’s funny remarks to get through it all. But, she sat alone in the darkness of her room without the guidance counselor she usually could count on. It felt as if she wasn’t enough to keep them there anymore. It was heart wrenching and it stewed within her at such volumes, it became too much.

That’s when Oscar noticed. Her boyfriend had always been attentive, noticing small things about her that no one else did, but the second her smile didn’t reach her eyes and her text messages became less frequent, it was almost as if he was staring her down in anticipation of some sort of sign. He didn’t begin to realize it was related to her parents until he caught a glimpse of her phone when they were together, the screen open to her conversations with her mother and all of the recent texts going completely unanswered. He knew she had always had a rocky relationship with them, but she spoke about them with such respect, he knew it would’ve bothered her to feel so unimportant.

Knocking on her door, his hands clutched the bag of her favorite food he had got on his walk to her apartment. He had planned this evening out for weeks, not telling her about it in worry that she would slip into a facade put together with a fake smile that made his skin crawl.

She opened it, her body tense and tired in a ratty shirt and shorts, “Oscar? What are you doing here?”

It was as if he saw her front go up, her posture straightening and that haunting smile which told him all too well how much pain she was in. He smiled softly, “I thought we could spend the night together.”

She closed the door enough to only peek her head through, “Osc, I’m so sorry, but I can’t tonight. I’m so busy.”

He stayed put, “That’s okay. I can wait on your couch.”

“No, Osc,” She said firmly, her face turning in the light and exposing the dark bags under her eyes.

He stepped closer to her, putting his hand on the door and looking down at her with a look that made her feel loved, “Y/n, let me in. I know you’re going through it. Let me be with you.”

Her resolve cracked, her smile dropping for a second and water suddenly pooling in her eyes, “You don’t want to come in here.”

He leaned against the door and cupped her cheek, “It won’t make me love you any less.”

With a sigh, Y/n pushed the door open, beckoning the boy into her home. He knew what to expect, he knew what it was like to reach the place she was in. So, when he saw the piles of clothes, half-eaten food on the counter with old dishes in the sink, and her little accessories put in the wrong places, something she would never usually do, he wasn’t surprised. If anything, he was happy she had let him in, literally and figuratively.

She picked at her nails beside him, swaying on her feet as she analyzed his every move. Part of her was trying to ready herself for him to walk out the door, give up on her because of whatever stood before them, but he gently set the food on the floor and ushered her into his embrace. His cheek laid against the top of her head, nestled in her hair, as he tightened his grip around her body. She smelled his cologne and felt his sweatshirt which made him feel all the more warm. There was something about his presence, she would later learn it was how safe she felt, that made the turmoils of her mind quiet as she began to cry. Y/n had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry for people who clearly didn’t care, but as Oscar rubbed her back and whispered how much he loved her, she realized it was never going to work.

Her breaking down wet the material of his sweatshirt, but Oscar just held her tighter, whispering how it was going to be okay and this would all pass.

“You’re so worth it all, Y/n,” He whispered, pecking the top of her ear as he smoothed down her hair.

She clutched his back before Oscar was moving her hands under his hoodie to feel the bare of his skin. He knew she loved that. And she did. Y/n’s tears began to dissipate as he told her why he was there.

“I’m with you in this. You aren’t alone. I’m here for you and I always will be. This,” He gestured to the space around them, holding her face in his hands and forcing her eyes to meet his, “doesn’t scare me at all, love. What does scare me, though, is the attempts at eating on the counter. Have you been eating other than that?”

She shook her head, “I tried. It’s too hard. I’m not hungry ever anymore.”

He titled his head with a small frown, “Well, maybe your favorite food will help, yeah? We’ll sit together and eat. We can go as slow as you want, or as fast. All up to you, baby.”

He kissed her forehead lightly before guiding her to the living room, one of the less dirty places, and setting her down on the cushions. He set it all behind him, not wanting to overwhelm her with everything he got, and took out what he knew she would want first. There was a dull sparkle in her eyes when he handed it to her, his heart lifted. It hadn’t been there when he first arrived.

She opened it slowly, eyeing the food she once ravished in seconds, and taking a utensil to pick at it. He looked at her, waiting patiently for her to take a bite. When she did, however small, he did too. When she did again, he did too.

She stopped, “Why aren’t you eating faster?”

He smiled, “Because I’ll take a bite when you do. I don’t mind, Y/n. I told you I’m in this with you.”

Her eyes gloss over as they dart between him and the food before taking another bite, giggling a bit when Oscar takes one of his own dish. She eats, he does too and their eyes never leave each other, offering unspoken support.

When the plastic boxes are gone and empty, Oscar has glasses of water randomly appearing in his grip, offering them to his girlfriend who has found herself tangled in that soft blanket he got her last Christmas. Her cheeks are a soft pink from the warmth of it coupled with the candle he lit in the midst of their dinner and she smiles when the cool liquid flows down her throat. Oscar stands over her, hands in his pockets and wondering how anyone could possibly ignore her texts. He wants to take a picture of her, remind her parents of the beauty they have in their reach. But, he also knows that any text he sends to them wouldn’t be one he should send to his potential (very likely) in-laws. So, he stays quiet and looks at her with the love she deserves.

“Do you need anything else?” He asks, pushing the hair out of her face.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m good. What movie do you want to watch?”

He kisses her cheek, “It’s up to you. I won’t be watching.”

Her eyebrows knot together and she cocks her head, “Why not? Is this some random pickup line where you’re going to tell me how you’ll only be watching me?”

He laughs, his head back, as he walks toward her room, “No, but that’s a good one. I’ll keep that for later. You put on whatever you want, baby. I’ll be cleaning.”

She crawls to the corner of the couch, watching him begin to pick up her room, “Clean? What? Why?”

He stops, turning around to look at her through the door, “Because I want to help you feel better and I know your apartment is stressing you out. You shouldn’t have to worry, love. Just relax. I’ll be done in a few hours.”

Her mouth is agape as he moves throughout her room, putting things away as if he knows where everything goes. He does, apparently. And when the shock of it wears off, a smile cements itself on her face as she turns on a random movie. She enjoys the soft humming of Oscar in the other room, answering his occasional question about the plot of the movie she’s watching. When he moves to the kitchen, out in the open and available to see what’s on the screen, Y/n falls asleep to the picture of her boyfriend doing her dishes and taking out her trash. Falling asleep with a warm heart mended by someone that has always loved her unconditionally.

—

She’s awoken by the feeling of soft mattress beneath her and Oscar’s arms heavy around her torso. He’s deep in sleep when she opens her eyes, has her completely enveloped in his grasp on her side. The room is dark, the window open and allowing for a cold breeze to flow through the room. She loves it. It’s cold outside, but Oscar keeps her warm. Her hands move their way up to his head, playing with his hair and staring at the man who has treated her so gently.

Tears fall down her face all so suddenly, sniffling lightly but still waking Oscar in the process.

He’s immediately worried, “What’s wrong?”

Her head drops to his chest, “I just love you so much and can’t tell you how much it meant to me that you stayed here even after seeing the state everything was in, including me.”

His soft hands leave her body and pull her face up to him. His eyes are dilated as he looks at her, “I would’ve done it yesterday and I’ll do it for the rest of our lives. I don’t want you to struggle alone. You don’t deserve that. You’ve done too much of that before you met me.”

If only her younger self could see her now. A younger girl worried she’d never find a man who loved her by seeing her now wholly adored by someone who didn’t just see her, but understood her too. She doesn’t even need to utter the problem, he already knows and she’s caught on to that since the moment he showed up at her door. His carefully chosen words about her worth and how easy it is to love her were all strategically placed in order to fix the cracks deep in her soul that have come undone at the hands of her parents.

“It’s just upsetting that they only loved me.” She whispers and for a second, Oscar doesn’t understand what she’s saying. But, the tense of her words dawns on him and the look on her face unleashes anger in his body. Loved. It’s upsetting that her parents loved her. They no longer do in her eyes. She once had parental support, love, but it’s obvious how transactional, conditional it was now. She got a taste of what it was like to be loved by them, but it was taken away when she needed it the most. She had mentioned to him before that growing up, she felt as if they used her presence to shy away from the problems of their marriage. When she was out of the house, she thought they would separate, but the opposite has happened. She served her purpose, now they throw money at trips to fill the void of what they have refused to face. Disregarded and thrown away, that’s the implications of what she’s confided.

He nods, tears in his eyes, “It’s so unfair of them to treat you this way. They’re your parents. They should be there for you, but they have never known how to love and you were just an unnecessary victim in it all.”

She wipes the moisture from her face, “I should just move on from the way they’ve treated me. I should give them grace because they’re my parents. I should just make peace with it all because this will never be fixed in the way I want it. But, I can’t.”

Oscar kisses the top of her head, “It’s okay that you can’t. That’s completely understandable. Giving grace just because they’re your family members isn’t right, Y/n. Just because there’s a blood relation doesn’t mean you can excuse their behavior. They’re your parents and they have neglected you for ages. You can’t keep giving everything to them, only to get nothing in return. Parents or not, you distance yourself from people who bring you down as much as they do.”

More tears smear against his chest, “But, they’re my parents, Osc.”

It’s as if he doesn’t know what to say because he knows how much she praises their drive and determination, giving her a life of privilege. Though, he stands firm on the idea that no one should be given a second chance if they “love” this way.

“I know, Y/n, and it’s so horrible that you’ve been put in this situation, but I think it would do you some good to let go of a part of them. You’ll go home and see them for birthdays, Christmases, but, in the time between, you don’t have to chase after them. You can find love in other things, happiness in other things. I’ll even do some of it with you. We can take up painting classes like you always wanted, walks in that park down the street that you love, studying in coffee shops, and watching the sunset. Life without them can be freeing.”

He’s right, she thinks. Life without them will be freeing. But, the story of letting go is never easy and finding yourself flipping to past chapters to hold onto something that isn’t there anymore is usual.

However, as she lays tangled in the limbs of Oscar, she finds future chapters to be more exciting, more fulfilling. Her whole life is ahead of her, one including Oscar, and that sudden revelation fills her with an overwhelming relief. His listing of all the things she loves, wants to try desperately reminds her just how in love with her he is. Every action of hers is noted by him and she’s spent years begging for that from her parents. She never got it, but maybe that was because something else softer lied in the cards for her. At times, her parents needed her, but they would always need something else more. Glamorous, shiny, new things that would satisfy them for a time. She would never be enough in the minds of them, but in the mind of Oscar, she was more than enough. It was clear she was everything to him.

A life with him would be different from the one handed to her on a broken, rusty platter. She wanted that with him and the way he looked at her told her he did too. Letting go of the dismissal of people she has killed herself for to make proud was maybe for the best, pushed her in the direction of focusing on Oscar and everything she’s ever wanted. Was this her mending old, deep wounds?

Loved and cherished, she found sleep once more, rejuvenated with hope and a sense of moving on.

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chatsukimi · 3 days

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POV. STREATRACER!TOJI asks to borrow your last name.

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･

“What do you mean you don’t want your last name printed on your uniform?”

Toji, your trust fund racer and favourite bet, shrugs. “Already said, I won’t race with the name Zen’in.”

You sit down at your desk. It’s after school, and you and the spoiled soon-to-be college reject are sitting in the classroom.

You throw your hands up. “But why? What’s bad about Zen’in?”

“Everything,” he deadpans.

Staring at the guy for a flat five seconds, you realise he won’t change his mind, or explain himself, which you should have expected from a guy going broke despite his millionaire family.

Toji props himself up on the desk beside yours, leaning on his knees as though thinking. A few seconds pass.

He offers, “why don’t I use yours?”

“My what?”

“Your last name,” he suggests, breezing through the prospect at horrifying speed. “It works. You’re sponsoring me anyways.”

You blink twice. Delayed reaction.

“What?!” you squeak out.

Toji smirks, leaning on his palm watching you. “What?” he repeats, playing innocent. He sports a smug look in his green eyes and even bothers to scan your notebook splayed out on your desk, reading your last name out loud to himself. “Nice.”

No. Not nice. They’ll assume you're- you're- your cheeks heat up.

He looks at you, bearing a smile that's all teeth. 'We could be cousins.'

The guy even dares to pat you on the shoulder at that. You shake him off. No one at the race would believe you two are related.

"No."

'No?' he echoes, cocking his head, tempting you to speak. 'What could we be then?'

"We can be... can be..." you think to yourself, before noticing his hands landing on your shoulder, massaging them like a habit. He's sauntered over from his chair.

Comforting, but still...

Bad habit.

Your heart stutters.

Baaad habit.

"Hm?" He chuckles when he sees you realise. "What would we be?"

You swallow, the small proximity between the two of you taking your mind on a field trip; him standing behind your seat and you, fidgeting your hands under the desk like crazy.

"Nothing."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I don't think taking your last name means nothing," he presses, serious.

How is he saying this with such a straight face? You're looking anywhere in the classroom but Toji, hoping he might just drop the subject. What's wrong with his last name anyways? What is he even insinuating? Does he really-

"I don't think I'll get tired of that face in ten years' time," he states.

Toji Zen'in is a blunt guy. When he said he hates his last name, he meant it. When he says he wants yours, well, no one's calling this guy a liar, are they?

It's been a while since you started sponsoring his races, and he's grown accustomed to your face in the stands. Always too far away, though. You always have on that dispassionate expression as a gambler, as though he's one of the rest.

For once, he cannot be just one of the rest.

“I'm... not sure what you mean." Your eyes move to the sunset outside, ignoring the way you bite your lip.

He studies your face for a minute before smirking again. "You're dabbling in illegal motorsports and can't look me in the eye."

You wince.

You murmur, "well then maybe you should say directly what you mean then."

You're so cute like this, pretending you don't like him too.

He walks around the table to face you properly. All of a sudden you can imagine your name on his back as he gets into the vehicle to race, as the stands to hear the cheers of the crowd. He'd wear it well. He coughs to get your attention.

“I’m saying.” He places his hands on his hips, shrugging as he goes. “Maybe let's be married. Just one day.”

Only, he doesn't intend for it to be one day. He wants you to remember your last name on him, keep the moment in your head; he'll wear it better than anyone else.

…

It is at that moment when the times come out and the trophies are awarded that he drapes his arm around your waist. The wink he throws your way, accomplice. Spectators ask what's his name.

And this is the moment you become more than his financier or the bets you place on him to win.

He speaks it into the microphone, proud for the stadium, the world. to hear.

And this is the moment you glance up at him with more than just a shallow smile, saying 'congrats'.

The word reverberates over the race track in a powerful wave.

He spoke into the microphone and the name is yours.

pt. 1

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk headcanons #toji dr #toji drabbles #toji headcanons #anime #jujutsu kaisen

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vscabarca · 13 hours

Note

how about a gavi fic where they’ve been dating for a long time but long distance so the whole relationship is basically a secret and the public finds out and the internet sort of breaks and keeps commenting on how gavi is so different with her. if you do end up liking this and writing this please tag me <33

sant jordi - pablo gavi

summary: you visit your long-distance boyfriend Gavi and he accidentally hard launches your relationship.

genre: fluff!

a/n: @weekendlusting that request was so cute, thank you for your patience!🫶🏼 Also, i was listening to this song while writing, check it out for the full experience;)

———

Exhausted, you placed your school bag onto the floor of your hallway, walking towards the darkly lit living room. Just as you sat down, your phone buzzed and Pablo appeared on the screen.

With an immediate smile, you pressed the green button, accepting his call.

„Hello my love.“ He chimed, already laying in bed with his hood up.

„Hey amor.“ You tiredly answered, now also kicking your feet upon the couch.

„How was your day?“

„Exhausing but I wrote my last exam today.“ A feeling of relief washed over your body when you realized you‘d have now two weeks of pure relaxation, without having to do any schoolwork. But this feeling of relief was over quickly. Being in another country, several hours away from your boyfriend was hard. Especially if you had now so much freetime, you would love to spend it with Pablo.

„I‘m proud of you. Any plans for the upcoming days?“ Your boyfriend asked while playing with his hair.

„Not much. I wish I could spend them with you, I miss you.“ You pouted, feeling sad for only seeing him through the screen.

„Fly to Barcelona. I‘m having a few days off and I wanna see my gorgeous girl again.“

That’s how you ended up on a plane on a Tuesday, flying two hours to visit your long distance boyfriend for the next week.

The reunion was more than sweet. Pablo surprised you with flowers as he waited in his Audi for you. You two were over four months together, but still kept the relationship from the public. You wouldn’t actively try to keep it a secret, but also didn’t have the need to show everyone you two were together. After all, Pablo was Spain‘s teenage heartthrob and you were just a normal girl going to university.

He drove to his house first, giving you time to freshen up and put down your luggage. As it was the 23rd of April, also known as Diada de Sant Jordi, a catalan holiday, the city was decorated in red roses and Catalan flags.

As you two strolled aimlessly around a more quiet part of the city, Pablo never let go of your hand. To be not recognized too often, he wore his sunglasses and a cap, looking as handsome as ever.

The touch of his hand made you blush and the smile never left your face.

Suddenly, Pablo walked towards a little shop at the end of the street. It was so small you wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for your boyfriend. Outside, there was a shelf filled with second-hand books and roses. Like the tradition says, Pablo grabbed a book with the most romantic title and went inside to pay. He stood in front of you, his signature smile plastered across his face as he gave you the book and the red rose.

„Feliz dia de Sant Jordi mi amor.“ You couldn’t help but blush, your face turning red from the charm of your boyfriend.

„Muchas gracias Pablito.“ You mused and stepped closer to press a gentle but yet passionate kiss onto his lips.

After you two enjoyed a fun day in Barcelona, you headed back home to cook dinner and have a relaxing night together.

During cooking and occasionally dancing to the music playing in the background, your phone started buzzing almost every two seconds. At first you dismissed it, thinking it was your friend filling you in on one of her hookup stories, but even Pablo turned his head in curiosity after the buzzing wouldn’t stop several minutes later.

„Don’t you think it’s important? It won’t stop.“ He asked with furrowed eyebrows, just as confused as you were. Your phone screen was flooded with people you barely knew asking about Gavi. Gavi here Gavi there, things like „you’re really together?“ or „could you ask him to sign me something?.“

It was so confusing until one of your family members told you to check Pablo‘s instagram.

You opened the app, seeing your boyfriend posted a story. Clicking on it, you saw a picture of you, holding the rose and book in your hands. Written was next to it „Feliz dia de sant jordi mi amor💞“

The blood froze in your veins. Did Pablo realize he just hard launched you?

„PABLO! why did you post me on your instagram account?“ You asked, eyes wide while he just shrugged his shoulders.

„I always do that. I thought you were okay with me posting you on my private account. You know only my family and close friends follow that account.“

Now it dawned on you. Pablo mistakenly posted the picture on his official account, the one with sixteen million followers instead of his private one with only twenty-seven.

„Baby… Of course I‘m okay with that, but you posted it on your main one. The one with sixteen million followers.“ You started laughing in despair, finding the situation oddly funny, even though whole Spain now knew about your relationship with the famous footballer.

Pablo grew red, standing in front of you in horror as he took a look himself.

„Fuck… I‘m so sorry. I swear I didn’t want to post that on there.“

„It‘s fine. I bet there are picture of us anyway from today.“ You said and assured him it was alright. He embraced you in a hug, kissing your head softly.

„At least I don’t have to hide you anymore.“

———

footy.gossip: teenage heartthrob Pablo Gavi is not on the love market anymore ladies!💔

He was seen spending the romantic holiday Sant Jordi with a mysterious girl by his side, buying her roses and a book. What a true gentleman!

view all comments:

user1: she’s really living the Y/N lifestyle…

user2: Gavi is for sure such a sucker for his girlfriend

->user3: I mean you can even see the heart eyes behind the sunglasses😭

pedri: yn finally you came to visit… he wouldn’t shut his mouth

->pablogavi: how could I not

->user4: HE‘S NOT EVEN DENYING IT??

user5: not pedri exposing gavi😭😭

user6: WE WANT A GF REVEAL!!

user7: I just know she dresses him

->user8: fr, the change from skinny jeans to this is a blessing

->user9: pedri step up your game

user10: don’t know who the girl is but… mamá y papá.

author: wish that was you huh?🫵🏻🤨

———

pablogavi: whoops accidental hard launch… anyway yn te amoo🫶🏼

comments are turned off

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #gavi #football x reader #gavi one shot #football one shot #fc barcelona #football imagine #football fanfic #barça

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your-averagewriter · 2 days

Text

Lipstick kisses.

Summary: At the wrap party, Cooper and (y/n) get closer and closer before (y/n) leaves him with some lipstick marks as a reminder and a promise for later (pre apocalypse!Cooper Howard x fem!reader).

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: kissing, sexual references

“Right here in the vaults is where you can live, so get your spot now before they run out and you can be as happy as us.” I say, looking into the camera, wearing a Vault-Tec suit that is molded to my body. Cooper’s arm is wrapped around my waist as we wear matching smiles, playing husband and wife for one of the new ads. They’re cheesy but they pay well and afford me a spot in one of the vaults which I wouldn’t be able to pay for myself.

“She’s right.” He places a well-planned kiss on my cheek. “It’s as easy as pie.” Cooper says, winking and dipping his finger in the apple pie they left for the shoot. “These walls allow us to stay safe and live the all-American lifestyle, they keep out the radiation and the Reds.” He says into the camera and it finishes filming.

“That’s a wrap.” Someone from behind the camera says.

“Great, are we done then?” I ask and everyone disperses, including Cooper and me.

“Wrap party.” Someone pats me on the shoulder, I turn around and it’s Cooper.

“Wrap party? We’ve only filmed a few ads, it’s not like we filmed a movie.”

“Damn feels like it sometimes with all the takes.” I chuckle.

“So where’s the party?”

“My house starts at 8:00, most people won’t turn up until past 8:30 - you know how parties go.”

“Well, I’ll see you later then.” I say with a small smile before walking away to get into my usual clothes and head home before going to Coop’s party.

Getting home, I lay out my outfit, picking out a long red dress that is form-fitting and pack a little black handbag with my matching lipstick, a box of cigarettes, a lighter, keys and phone. Double-checking my makeup in the mirror, I slip on my heels before leaving and driving to Cooper’s house.

There’s a crash on one of the roads so the traffic is awful as I try to get to the wrap party but I end up getting there quite a bit later than expected - definitely past 8:30. Finally I pull up, having to park down the hill a little due to all the good car spaces already being taken.

It’s a short walk to get to his house, when I go to knock on the door, it’s already open and I can hear the music vibrating throughout the house.

I navigate my way through the people, talking to some as they greet me - being one of the main actors in the advertiser means my name is plastered on the billboards. I find the kitchen easily despite the people crowding it and pour myself a drink in the tacky red cups.

I busy myself with the drink, trying to ignore the eyes on my figure, noticing that I didn’t understand the dress code, ending up in a much fancier outfit than anyone else. Tiring of the loud noise and not seeing anyone I truly knew, I head outside, walking over to one of the benches, facing away from the building and towards the pool and pulling out my cigarette pack and lighter. I place a cigarette in between my lips and try to light it but my lighter doesn’t work.

I flick the lighter again and again.

“Hey darlin’, need some help?” I turn around to face Cooper with his lighter in hand. Looking up at him, he lights the cigarette for me.

“Thanks.” He sits down on the bench next to me.

“Not enjoying the party, sweetheart?”

“I don’t really know anyone here. They’re all on the business side of things and they seem to know me, it freaks me out.” I chuckle, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“Well, at least you look the part.” He grins. “You look stunnin’.”

“Thank you, I feel like I stick out.”

“You always stick out ‘cause you’re so pretty.”

“Not what I meant.” I chuckle as he takes the cigarette from my hand, lingering a second longer, his eyes on mine before lifting it up to his mouth and taking a long drag.

“Oh, I know exactly what you meant and I still think it’s a good thing. Don’t know how I didn’t see you sooner with this little get-up.”

I look him up and down, looking at the suit he’s wearing. “Since when did you wear suits?” I take another hit.

“Since I got a reputation.”

“I like you better with your cowboy attire.” I show a slightly dopey smile, maybe slightly influenced by the drinks I had earlier…

“Me too, darlin’, me too.” He laughs, taking a sip of a glass of whiskey he brought out with him. “I’ll wear the cowboy hat for you next time. Maybe we could have a party for two, dinner maybe.”

“Are you asking me out for dinner?”

“I’m asking you in for dinner. I make a mean spaghetti bolognese.” He wears a small grin on his face. “So what do you say?”

“That sounds nice. I like pasta. And you, of course.” I say, turning to properly face him, blowing a ring of smoke towards him with a smile

“Well, that’s good because I like you quite a bit.” He leans forward slightly, matching my smile, and moving forward slightly.

“Cooper, (y/n)! I hope I’m not interrupting.” Sebastian walks over, sitting down on the bench opposite the both of us.

“‘Course not.” I say, quickly pulling away with a slightly flustered look.

“You were interrupting actually, Sebastian. I was just about to kiss this pretty lady.” Both the men laugh while I sit there looking mildly embarrassed.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way. Hopefully I’ll see you later on, if you two don’t get too carried away that is.” He jokes, laughing.

“So embarrassing.” I mumble, head in hands once Sebastian leaves.

“I was just being honest, sweetheart. Now, where were we?” I look back up at him.

He pushes his lips against mine gently as I reciprocate, matching the delicate nature - almost as if he thinks I'll break. After a few seconds I pull away and can't help but chuckle as I look at his face.

“What? What is it?” He asks with a small grin.

“Nothing.” I decide not to tell him about the lipstick smudged on his lips. “Sorry.” I chuckle.

“C’mere, you.” He says, arm around my waist to pull me closer to him, a smirk on his face before he presses his lips against mine again.

I wrap my arms around his neck, resting them as we pull each other closer. I pull back to press a few kisses to his jaw, relishing the little lipstick kisses that are left behind.

“You're a little minx, you are.” He mumbles, I smile softly against his skin, continuing before making my way back to his lips.

I feel one of his hands travel up my thigh, his rough hands against the smooth skin exposed by the slit in my dress. He caresses the skin gently, rubbing little circles.

I play with his hair, my arms still resting over his shoulders gives me access to the back of his head also allowing me to pull him closer.

I feel his fingers reach under the slit of my dress and I pull back to reach for the hand with a conflicted smile.

“Cooper.” I say almost like a warning. “We're at your party and in your garden.”

“I don't mind.” He shrugs with a dopey smile.

“I mind.” I say, “Besides, people will be looking for you.” I stand up, holding his hand and leading him to stand as well. “C’mon.”

“Fine.” He huffs, worried he's missing out as he walks back into his house.

I lean over until my mouth is just by his ear.

“Y'know, if you wanted I could stay back a little later?” I whisper but it’s barely a question as I already know the answer, pulling back with a teasing smile before walking away again, leaving him with the lipstick marks as I find a bathroom to reapply my lipstick with a knowing smile.

Re-joining the party, I try to socialise with some other people but I make sure to keep an eye on Cooper talking to people trying to hide their hushed chuckles. Finally, I watch someone break the news to him as he walks over to one of the mirrors in his house, turning his face to examine the damage before he looks over at him. I send a small smile, feigning innocence as he shakes his head.

“Little minx.” He mumbles with a small grin.

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading!

I'm actually in love with Cooper, I swear (Ghoul form and not)

If you want a part two to this fic then let me know (I don't write smut though)!

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sjw-publishings · 2 days

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Hey Everyone,

I don’t tend to write these kinds of posts on my tumblr page, however I feel this is necessary.

In the event you are not aware, Dumb and Jocked, the main person I do collabs with, and also who is someone who most people might consider to be one of the backbones of the Tumblr TF community, has deactivated his account and left us last week.

Most of the people and I do not know exactly why or how this happened, but it's the reality of the situation unless he somehow does return in the future.

Some tumblrs might still have some of his stories reblogged, including mine, however some of which cannot be accessed as they are stuck at the ‘read more’ page. Notably his longer stories ‘Branded’ and both parts of the major collaboration we did together in ‘Narrow residences’.

If anyone has any of these stories saved somewhere, it would be great if you could either link it to me or post it on Tumblr.

Below will be my farewell to him, in the event he ever does somehow read it. This probably is not the best farewell letter, but it's the best I could do in such short notice and also posting it publicly. —————————————————————

Hey Dumb and Jocked,

Thanks for reading this, and I'm sad to see you go.

We’ve worked on various collabs together and it was fun throughout the years discussing various ideas here and there with you.

Unfortunately, after you left, it just feels really upsetting looking at the stuff you wrote. Even those that were saved from reblogs and reposts from other blogs. While I do want to keep them for memories and also because I did collaborate on some of them, it just feels much sadder trying to indulge in your stories or continue in sequels of it.

I was shocked that you would leave us out of the blue, however a part of me anticipated this.

I'm mostly speculating, but this is a hobby that can be rather controversial and you contributed a massive ton, likely without any compensation. You were quite private in general and talked about stories and bounced off my ideas now and then.

You sort of have a clean gateway if you decide to ever leave for good, as you probably are not really close to anyone here other than writing TF stories.

Some of us hoped that you might return, and speculated maybe it's tumblr accidentally banning you and you would get your account back, but as the days went by, it only reaffirmed that my anticipation was likely correct.

I myself mostly continued on tumblr for you, and I'm not sure if I would continue now that the main reason and person I stuck around for has left without letting any of us know. It is something I will have to decide for myself in the future.

If you ever do return to Tumblr or decide to message me privately to talk about things, that would be great. I do hope you return, even if you don’t write stories that frequently or even at all, so we could talk for a bit.

However I know that I won’t wait forever.

That’s all I will write in this letter. It was fun writing and discussing TF stories with you while it lasted.

-Sjw Publishings

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mirage-aera · 1 day

Text

•°. *࿐ Cookie monster || NH13

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : we can’t be friends (wait for your love - Ariana Grande

Nico Hischier x Reader

Synopsis: At the end of a get-together, your cookie jar always ends up empty. You hatch out a plan to catch whoever is eating all of the cookies. Not once, did it cross your mind that they might be your Swiss neighbor friend from across the hall.

Word count: 1.615

Masterlist

I’m a sucker for neighbor au’s. Anyway, not too happy with this one and it probably doesn’t make much sense. But it’s late, and it’ll do for now.

You wouldn’t say you have a ton of friends. You simply have a select few close ones. They range from being high school friends that you’ve known for years and kept in touch with, to friends you’ve made at work, to your hockey-loving neighbor. Truth be told, you’re not that big of a hockey fan. So it’s a miracle how you became such close friends in a short time. Nico likes to say that it’s nice to have a friend who barely knows anything about the hockey world. He likes the fact that he has a clueless friend in his life for when he wants to relax after a few tough games. Of course, he’s also glad to celebrate with you when he does have some smooth-sailing games. Even though you might not know what’s going on half of the time, you’re always genuinely happy about his achievements. This he appreciates a lot. He might even love you for that, but he won’t admit that to you.

Every time you hold a get-together at your apartment. You’ve noticed something peculiar. The jar of cookies you’ve set out for your friends to eat if they decide to come over is always empty after they visit. Now, you aren’t mad about this relegation. You are just curious about who is eating all of your cookies. You’re glad someone is enjoying your homemade cookies, but you'd like to know who this cookie monster is. It’s a small jar that can only hold a few cookies. So you don’t mind it that much. If anything, you think it’s quite funny.

You’re hosting another get-together after your last one, which was a few weeks ago. You’re determined to catch your cookie eater. You’re going to try to keep an eye on your jar while mingling with friends. You put some of the newest batch of cookies in the cookie jar and set it on your kitchen counter. Free for them to take. Shortly after the silence in the apartment gets interrupted by knocking at your front door. You wipe your hands while walking over. You open your door. A smile instantly spreads across your face. “Nico! It’s good to see you again!” You say happily as you usher him inside. He chuckles softly, sending a tingle through your body. Are you crushing on your Swiss neighbor? Definitely. You can’t deny that. But will you tell him? Absolutely. Not. You’d do anything for him. “It’s good to see you too. How have you been?” He asks and sits down on the couch. You shrug, “it’s been okay. Been busy recently, it’s great to have some free time on my hands again.” He nods. He’s about to say something before he gets interrupted by another knock on the door. You offer him a small smile. “Sorry about that.” He waves it off. “It’s fine. Go ahead.” Without needing to say more you let more friends in. With a quick hug and a quick exchange, everyone is sitting in your living room and conversing with one another.

You come out from the kitchen with drinks and some snacks on a platter and set it on the coffee table. You hop onto the couch next to Nico and join in on the conversation. Time flies by quickly, and before you know it you and Nico are the only ones left in your apartment. Nico looks at the time on his phone. “I think I should get going. I need to take care of some stuff.” He says and gets up from the couch. You follow suit. “Alright. You should come over sometime soon again. It’s been fun.” He nods and smiles. “Oh yeah, for sure. We’ll talk about it. You should come over to mine next time.” You nod. “We’ll talk about it.” You say your goodbyes and he leaves. You watch him enter the apartment across from yours. He gives you a small wave before he closes his door.

You shut your door and head to the kitchen. You didn’t pay attention to the cookie jar like you said you would. You lay your eyes upon the jar, only to find it empty again. You sigh and grab the jar. You put it in the sink and clean it before storing it away again. So much for catching your cookie monster.

***

You’re holding once again another meet-up. You’re baking another batch of cookies to fill your jar. This time you have a solid plan. Some would say it’s foolproof. One by one your friends start piling in and welcoming themselves on your couch. Nico is the last to arrive this time. He apologises but you shrug it off. It's not a big deal to you. You’re just glad he was able to come. Everyone converses with each other again. You and Nico mainly talk with each other. The others don’t mind they encourage it. They know you have a thing for the 6 ft 1 Swiss hockey player. It’s as if it’s obvious to everyone but Nico. You stand up, “I’m going to the bathroom for a second. I’ll be back in a minute.” You tell him. He nods. “Alright. Go ahead.” You take that as your sign to set your plan in motion. You’re not going to the bathroom. You’re going to hide in the hallway, it has the perfect view of the kitchen. If you wait here long enough you’ll know who’s leaving your cookie jar empty.

Sure enough. A wandering Nico enters the kitchen. He sees your cookie jar. Some cookies have already been eaten by your friends. He grabs one and eats it. He smiles happily as he munches on them. He quickly eats one by one. They’re all gone in five minutes. He wipes his mouth to get rid of the crumbs and heads back to the living room. You’ve finally caught your cookie monster. It was oddly cute how he was scarfing down your cookies. You shake your head but can’t help but let out a small chuckle. You’re pleasantly surprised that Nico has been liking your cookies so much. You make a mental note to make another batch for him so that you can give him those the next time you go to his place.

You enter the living room. From a supposed bathroom break. You have a knowing grin on your face. Nico chuckles, “What’s that grin for?” He asks curiously. You shake your head, “nothing. I just came to a realization.” He doesn’t believe you, you can see that on his face. But he doesn’t pry you further. “Whatever you say, Schatz.” He has been calling you that a lot lately. You don’t have a clue what it means, and every time you bring it up he says it’s something they say back in Switzerland. He likes calling you that, and he has been doing that ever since he first slipped up.

Soon enough everyone leaves again. Before Nico leaves he turns to you. “Come over this weekend if you’re free. I’m going to be free. I won’t mind your company.” He says with a small smile. You let out a chuckle. “Sure I’ll come over. I’ll see you then. Is Saturday good?” He nods. “Perfect. See you then.”

***

Saturday comes quicker than you thought it would. You’re making another batch of cookies, this time it’s solely for Nico. Now that you know he has been eating them you work hard to make them perfect. You put dollops of cookie dough on the baking sheet and flatten them. You shove the cookies into the oven and set a timer of ten minutes. You clean up in the meantime. The timer goes off and starts beeping. You take the cookies out and let them cool for another ten minutes. After they cooled you put them in the jar again.

When it’s time to hop over to his place, you make sure to grab the jar and lock the door behind you. You cross the hallway and knock on his door. He opens and his eyes flicker down to the jar of cookies in your hands. He motions for you to come inside. He leads you to his living room and offers you to sit. You place the jar on his table. He looks at it and smiles at you. “It’s only us two tonight. You didn’t have to make them.” You give him a knowing grin. “I was starting to wonder where all my cookies went. I think it’s safe to say I found my cookie monster.” He stumbles over his words before you interrupt him with a laugh. “It’s okay. I’m not mad or anything. I find it rather endearing.” You point to the full cookie jar. “These are all for you. Just return the jar to me when you finish them.” He visibly relaxes and lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Although you didn’t have to.” You let out a small chuckle. “I don’t mind baking you more cookies if you like them.” He smiles. “If it isn’t too much trouble. I wouldn’t mind it.” He says softly. You nod determinedly. “Then more cookies are coming up for Nico Hischier.” You tease him a little. He lets out a boisterous laugh. He winks at you. “I’ll be waiting for them.”

You can’t help but feel like you’ve gotten closer, despite him being your cookie monster. And who knows? Perhaps tonight will be the extra push you need. One thing is for certain. Your feelings for the Swiss in front of you are blooming strongly into something more than just a silly crush.

#hockey #nhl #nhl fic #nhl hockey #nhl players #nhl x reader #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier imagine #nh13 #new jersey devils #nj devils #fluff

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f0point5 · 16 hours

Text

What if I told you I’m back?

This was a request but tumblr ate, you’ll all just have to believe me. Someone asked for a Max POV during the best friend era. So, I decided to go with this one ✨set 16th April 2018✨ the day after the Chinese GP, because I feel like we don’t talk enough about the early friendship.

I hope this finds its way to whoever sent in the ask and that you enjoy it 🫶

Max almost turns around three times on the way to your building.

The first time, it’s when he realises it’s late, gone ten p.m. on a Monday, you might be asleep. He should go home and come by tomorrow. But you’re a night owl, you won’t be asleep.

The second time, he thinks you won’t be asleep, but you won’t be expecting company. He hasn’t even texted, and he should have, but he left his phone in his jacket which he gave to his concierge to send upstairs with his bags. He should intrude. But he’s not exactly company, he’s seen you in your pyjamas, it’s not like he’s suggesting you go out.

The third time, it’s the absurdity of the situation that gives him pause. He hadn’t even set foot in his building before setting off to yours. After three and a half weeks away one more night shouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe you’ll think he’s a bit strange. But equally, it shouldn’t be a big deal to just see you for a minute, right? If only just to give you your present.

He’s surprised by much he found himself missing you. It’s not like he hasn’t been sued to being away from his friends and family his whole life, it’s not even like you didn’t talk while he was away. You talked a lot. But, he rationalises, he’d got used to having you around during winter break, you’d hardly been apart. You’d even come home to his mum’s with him just before Christmas. Your presence, your perfume, your way never letting him finish a sentence, it was all normal to him now. It wasn’t that he needed it, just that he had had to learn how to be without it, and that had been harder than anticipated. The last time he’d done that he was eight.

It only occurs to him now, as your building comes into view, that you might not feel the same way. You’d said you’d missed him countless times in the last three and a half weeks, but that didn’t signify. After all, he’d said it maybe twice and he here he was, asleep on his feet but at your door because he didn’t want to go home without seeing you.

He should just go home.

“Max?” No turning back now. He turns around to see you, dressed in a pretty blouse and a short skirt, teetering towards him on stiletto heels. “Maxy, Maxy, Maxy,”

You collide with him before he has a chance to laugh at the way you were squealing like a child. He hugs you back, holding you up when you lift your feet off the floor for a second. He’s half expecting you to smell like a distillery, unable and unwilling to comprehend that your reaction is all your own. But all he smells is your perfume, and it feels like Christmas all over again.

“Hey,” he says, lowering you to the ground and finally getting a good look at you. Your hair’s a little shorter, your face is- no, you couldn’t have gotten prettier. You’re a bit more tanned.

“I thought you were still in China,” you say, squeezing his shoulders. “You look so hungry, have you lost weight?”

“I just got back,” he says with a shrug. You’re almost his height in your heels, he notices for no discernible reason.

You take in his no doubt plane-rumpled appearance. “Did you come straight here?”

“Uh,” he clears his throat. He’s not going to admit that when you’re giving him a warranted look of confusion, but he doesn’t want to lie either. “I brought you a present.” He holds up the package, wrapped poorly on the flight home. Even the flight attendant had given him a sympathetic look as she watched him struggle.

“Aw, thanks,” you say, pressing your key fob against the censor and pulling open the door before Max can get to it. “Come up,”

“Are you sure?”

You give him an incredulous look, lit up by the golden glow of your lobby lights. “Of course,”

You tell him about the dinner you were just getting back from when he arrived, all the way up to your flat. Some people would find it odd or even rude that Max has been a continent away, racing the fastest cars on the planet in front of millions of people, and yet you’re perfectly at ease taking time to talk about your overly creamy pasta. Max likes it, relishes it, even. You’ve never seen him or his job as anything special. He went to work, you went to dinner. It’s normal. Just friends catching up.

You let him into your flat, heading straight for the kitchen, and Max takes the same seat at the breakfast island that he always does. He idly wonders if anyone else has sat in it since he’s been away.

“But then it’s not exactly Naples, you what can you expect. Sometimes I think the French sabotage Italian food on purpose,” you say, filling a wine glass with water from your fridge dispenser. “Great race, by the way. Glad my voodoo worked,”

Max scoffs. “So, you didn’t watch it,” he shakes his head as if that will help the memories fade quicker.

“I did. Got up at the crack of dawn and everything. And I cursed your car not to win,“ you say with a mischievous grin, pulling out a can of red bull from the fridge.

Max frowns. “What the fuck?”

“You can’t win when I’m not there to see it,” you declare, handing him the Red Bull. He reaches to take it, but you don’t let go until he looks at you. “I’d have been devastated,”

For the first time in his life, Max is actually half glad he didn’t win a race.

He chuckles, opening the can with one hand while sliding the gift along the counter towards you with the other.

“Well, I want to win,” he says, as you start picking at the copious amount of sellotape. “So you’ll just have to come to all the races,”

He’s surprised how much he means that.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Maxy. Oh my God, you can’t wrap for shit,” you say, finally managing to pull apart first Max’s wrapping, and then the box containing the, “Chopsticks?”

“Very fancy chopsticks,” Max explains. He points to the set of dark wood chopsticks you’re holding, gesturing to the intricate gold figures entwined on the top. “See, one set has dragons and one set has a phoenix? They’re famous in Chinese mythology. The guy said to give It to someone you like, they’re supposed to bring luck. Or something. I didn’t really understand his English,”

You stare at them for a while, a sort of bewildered smile on your face, and Max almost slaps himself. He should have just bought you a handbag. They had a Chanel in China. Why didn’t he just listen to his dad? This sentimental shit is weird and embarrassing and he should have just gone home.

“So,” you say, using the chopsticks to point at Max accusingly as you smirk at him. “You like me now? Who would have thought? After all those years of telling everyone how annoying I was, you like enough to want me to have good luck,”

“You-“ Max fights the urge to argue.

That smug look on your face still triggers him something awful. But behind it is someone who has become important to him. It’s not just that you know things about him that even he’s forgotten, it’s that he doesn’t want there ever be anything you don’t know about him. You him laugh, and he never wants to see you cry, and he’s used to being reviled and admired, and even liked, but you’re the only person who’s ever made him feel this understood.

“You’re my best friend,”

Once, he might have been embarrassed that you don’t say it back, but just like you know him, he knows you now, too. You grin at him, sipping your water as you look at him over the rim of your glass.

“Well, despite the fact that this whole chopstick story sounds like the beginning of an Indiana Jones movie, they’re beautiful, and I love them, and I promise I will only ever use them to eat Chinese food with you,” you say, putting the chopsticks back in their box. “And I’m glad you’re home.”

Max doesn’t say anything, fiddling with the can again, and you sigh.

“When are you leaving again?”

“Um,” he hesitates, like if he doesn’t say it then it won’t happen. He gives up and gives you an apologetic smile. “Thursday. Going to the UK for some work and then straight to Baku,”

“Oh,” your face, falls, and you toy with the stem of your glass, only for a few seconds, before you shrug. “Well, we should have dinner before you go, and then-“

“Do you-“ He cuts himself off, because he knows he should think about this more, but then you’re looking at him and he’s done thinking. “Do you want to come?”

“To the UK?”

“Yeah,” Max mumbles, looking down at his Red Bull as his fingers fiddle with the tab. “And to Baku,” he glances up to see your reaction, “and, I mean, anywhere,” he adds a shrug, because, obviously, the invitation is totally casual.

You shrug back. “Okay,”

He can hear his dad already, complaining about how you’re a distraction, you bring cameras and drama, how Max gives you too much of his attention on race weekends. But there’s worse things than Jos’s moaning, like not seeing you for another two weeks.

He barely has time to think about that before a Chinese takeout menu slides into his vision. He looks up at you, confused. “Didn’t you eat?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t look like you have in about a week. You are starting to get Cillian Murphy cheekbones,” you grimace. Max has no idea who that is but based on your face he doesn’t want to look like him. “And besides, I want to test out these magic chopsticks,”

#max verstappen x reader

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wannabeschyulersister · 1 day

Text

so long, chicago

Without the warmth of your things in the apartment, it looked sad and cold. The boxes that you packed were stacked along the hallway. Movers were scheduled to help you in the next hour.

Your belongings would be traveling across the country with you following.

After one last sweep of the apartment to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything, you stood at the large bay window facing the city. A city that you once considered home.

You’d miss Chicago. You’d miss the people that you’d met. The connections that you formed. The memories. The laughter.

The sound of the front door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned and saw Carmen walk in. You didn’t expect for him to be home anytime soon. You’d hoped that you could avoid the last interaction.

“Hey.” You said softly.

He nodded, “I thought you’d be halfway outta town by now.”

“The movers should be here any minute.”

Carmen took off his coat and placed it on the right hook near the door. Yours would normally go on the left but it was currently sitting on top of one of your suitcases.

“Richie said you stopped by the restaurant last night.”

“Yeah, I wanted to tell him goodbye.”

“I guess that’s nice.”

“You guess?”

“What do you expect for me to say, (Y/n)? I love that you’re abandoning me and everyone you’ve met here?”

“Abandoning you?” You couldn’t believe that he really said that.

“We’ve been together for six fuckin’ years! One day you wake up and realize you don’t want to be with me anymore out of the fuckin’ blue!”

“Out of the blue?,” you raised your voice, “Carmen, I dreaded making that decision for months! You were so out of touch that you didn’t even realize that we had stopped acting like a couple long before I ending things.”

Carmen chuckled bitterly, “That’s not true.”

You hadn’t planned on leaving on ugly terms with Carmen. If anything, you wanted it to be civil. You were huge parts of each other’s lives. Under all of the pain and heartbreak, there was love.

“I was the only person trying in this relationship. You would get home at one or two in the morning and I’d try waiting around just so we can have a conversation after not seeing each other all day. I planned date nights and tried to pry you out of that kitchen to notice that I was practically falling apart at the seams!” You confessed. It hurt you that he hadn’t even noticed.

“Relationships are hard! That why you have to make them work!” Carmen was visibly upset at how the conversation was going.

“I was the only one fighting for this, Carmen! When was the last time you bought me flowers or texted me to see how my day was going? I barely even heard an ‘I love you’.”

“I do love you. So much that I don’t want you to go and move to San Diego. You belong here with me and- and with your friends. People that care about you!”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough. I’m tired, Carmen. Tired of feeling like I don’t mean shit to you. I need to be with someone that wants to be with me. I want someone that won’t make me feel alone when we are together.”

Carmen closed the space between you two. It was the closest he’d been to you in days. He still smelled of the cologne that you bought him for Christmas with a faintness of the cigarette he must’ve smoked before.

“I thought we’d spend the rest of our lives together.” He said softly.

“If you thought so, then why aren’t we married? I’ve had friends in shorter relationships that have taken the next step. I’ve waited for so long for you to ask me to be your wife and every anniversary that passes, I know that it’s not going to happen. I don’t want to leave. I really loved living here. This felt like home more than any place I’ve lived in, but I can’t stay here.”

“I’ve been a fuckin’ selfish asshole. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please, I’ll make things up to you. I’ll change.”

“And when things get hard? When you get busy and stressed at the restaurant, then what? It goes back to how things were? I can’t put myself through that. I can’t take that chance.” It killed you seeing him so upset but when you broke up with him, it was like you could breathe again.

You were becoming the person that you used to be. You didn’t want to sacrifice yourself for someone else that didn’t give you the time of day.

Three knocks to the front door made you step away from Carmen. You opened the door and saw the movers with a dollie and a couple of extra boxes.

“Excuse me.” You felt Carmen grab his coat and brush past you. Part of you wanted to chase him down and wrap your arms around him. You didn’t want the last image you had of him to be so hurt.

As you watched the movers grab your boxes and take them down to the awaiting truck, you grabbed the letter that you wrote for Carmen. You planned to leave it on the kitchen counter.

You didn’t know if he’d even read it. Maybe he would rip it up into tiny pieces. Maybe he would read it over and over again.

It wasn’t up for you to wonder. You were at peace with your decision and that’s all that mattered.

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x (y/n)#carmen berzatto x you #the bear x reader #carmy x reader #the bear imagine #carmy berzatto

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yok00k · 1 day

Text

seasons: pink

pairing: p.sunghoon x acubi!oc

genre: fluff, drabble

summary: shopping w/ sunghoon

warning: too sweet!

word count: 919

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“Earth to sunghoon??” you say, waving your hand in front of your boyfriend’s face, who’s been zooming out for a while. he’s all dressed up and ready to go since ages ago. meanwhile, you take at least two hours to get ready and have more than five steps of skincare routine plus some makeup. he did everything that he could possibly do to not get bored while waiting for you.

walk back and forth from the living room to your bedroom more than 50 times? check. water the plant sitting on the most random spots of your apartment? check. pet and play with coco, your tiny shih tzu dog? check. yet he’s still ended up sitting up at the edge of your bed, staring at the air.

you further try to get his attention by planting a few kisses on his left cheek, which leaves an easily noticeable lip tint stain on his smooth skin. resulting in your sudden action, he moves from his frozen state.

sunghoon blinks twice, bringing himself out from detaching himself to reality. “you ready?” he asks, clearing his voice while examining your cute all-white outfit, which matches his all-black casual attire. he also notices the makeup you put on today, a simple ‘igari’ style makeup that highlights lots of rose pink blush on your soft cheeks.

cute, totally his type

“yes! thanks for waiting for me” you respond with full energy. of course he’ll wait for you. no matter how long he has to wait for. it’s not like he could just leave you and execute today's plan all by himself. he wouldn’t leave you alone. even if he has an option to. in addition to that, he loves spending a solid quality time with you.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

since warm weather is slowly approaching , the today’s plan is to shop around for summer clothes. you two have been planning on going to one of the few nicest outdoor outlets around. the only downside is it’s a couple of hours drive. but they have everything you could possibly look for: cute stores, high quality clothing stores, nice bakeries and bubble tea shops, and many more. for that reason, you are willing to be in the car for two hours. this is your idea after all.

the first thing you knock out of your to-do list as you arrive you destination is to grab a refreshing bubble tea. after that, you and sunghoon began roaming around. your wrist acts to its second nature as it automatically entangled with his. sunghoon isn’t really a fan of pda, but he wouldn’t mind having his hand intertwined with yours. he actually enjoys it a lot, but he would never ever admit it or say it out loud.

today is such a bright day.

in the midst of walking in the open air mall, sunghoon confusedly turns his head when you abruptly come to a halt, followed by hearing a loud gasp from you. he’s about to ask what’s wrong but as soon as he looks at what you’re staring at, he understands right away. you lead the way quickly towards the front of the store.

“i’ll just see what they have inside real quick, I won’t take that long” you reassure him, grabbing a mini basket, just in case you end up buying something tiny. he just follows and stays right behind you like a lost puppy.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

there’s no such thing as “real quick” especially when shopping with you. and sunghoon knows that for a fact. he’s even surprised that it only took you 40 minutes to roam around that small store given the fact that you love examining every cute thing the store sells. you would ask for his opinion here and there, only for you to return the items back because you don’t really need those things. still, you’re pleased by how pretty they look. after looking at every product, you ended up only buying two things: a couple of decent size miffy night lamps. one for you and one for him.

“look, I got one for you!” you mutter, swinging the paper bag in front of him.

“for me?” he asks dumbfoundedly, he didn’t even realized that you bought two of the same item. you reply with a nod. “yup, they’re the same thing so we can match” you explain, wrapping your hands to his arm as you proceed to your next stop. before he could even react, he’s being dragged by you elsewhere.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“this one, this one, this one..” you mumble to yourself, fully concentrating on picking oversized t-shirt that would look good on sunghoon. so far you have three different color of shirts in your hand. a sky blue, white, and light pink. he typically dislikes pink but it would look great on him.

“try these on, I will look for more” you softly instruct him as you handle the clothes.

“pink?” he utterly baffles, not liking the idea of trying on the particular shirt.

“trust me, it’ll look good on you”

sunghoon is about to disagree, but he chooses not to. he’s in love you to the point where he’s going to do whatever you ask him to do, even if it’s against his liking as such color of a damn shirt. he won’t listen to anyone. but he’s willing to listen to you.

he ended up trying it. it wasn’t as bad he thought it would be. maybe wearing pink isn’t that bad, solely because the girl he loves says so.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

seasons_m.list [processing]

a/n: i’m making a series of this couple<33

#sunghoon fic #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #enhypen imagines #sunghoon ff #enhypen sunghoon #kpop imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon x you

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delicrieux · 3 days

Text

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 7. year one: up to mid october, 1972

pairing for this chapter—f!lestrange!reader x sirius black warnings for this chapter—sum swear & sirius being a prat word count—2.5k

a short awaited confrontation and a new friend.

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

over the course of the month, it seems that the sight of you has become repulsive to sirius. he could not bear to look at you for more than it took to notice you in the crowd or to recognize your voice echoing before the body belonging to it reached him. he’d flee, usually, and refrain, in a completely un-sirius fashion, from making a gigantic scene. this would have been odd to you if only the pain of seeing his hastily retreating back wasn’t too much.

don’t be so harsh with me please, you’d want to tell him, i’ve done nothing but love you.

instead, “what. is. with. you,” and each word punctuated with an angry smack to his forearm. he glares, and he wiggles out the way of your unrelenting pursuit to beat him into submission. his friends watch frozen, stuck somewhere between amusement and desire to pull sirius back into the safe confines of the gryffindor tower. you will not allow them. not this time, at least, “you stuck up, insufferable—“

“piss off,” he nurses his bruises, though you aren’t strong enough to leave any.

you falter in your step, but the anger doesn’t die. he must know how his look wounds. he must. “piss off?” you parrot, and it rings much smaller and fainter than his had, “piss off? that’s all i get from you?”

“expect something different?” he bites, and bites, and bites, and he maims and mars until there is a thread between your hands and his heart thin as ivory wire. his eyes appraise and they dance and they hate, “why don’t you run back to your regulus.”

ah. there it is. the venom.

“sirius-“ james starts, and both of your glares cut him into two.

“shut up,” the both of you, again, together. you mirror his dark look and try to decide which words of the infinite welling quickly are most fitting. they sink with and through you; an anger and a hurt not meant to be felt by someone so inexperienced. when you and sirius argue, it is never as dire, even if it feels like it was. sirius never starts rows he cannot win, even if it’s him that loses most in the end, “family matter.”

james looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else but in the windy courtyard, shadowed by the cold arches of a loggia. peter, cheeks and ears burning, nervously rubs his hands together to dispel the cold. remus, already, is further ways down and watching, waiting for the rest to catch up. you won’t let them, not yet, not till you say your piece and abandon first, because father said the last word is always the winner.

you speak in french because you know he hates to hear it, because it reminds of home and you know he can’t stand home like he can’t stand you now, and it will hurt him, and it will make you happy, “regulus was right about you. you’ve become unthinkably cruel.”

he curls his lip, and it is with so much spite that it makes your teeth ache. his body rolls into itself, ready to explode and spit up his scorn all over your face. the insult must teeter on his tongue. you're more than ready for it. but something cracks and something flips and he reels back a bit, a show of restraint you thought him absent of.

"yeah, regulus, regulus always knows best, doesn't he?" your french mimicked in his mouth is dense, like syrup, "regulus, darling, regulus," a sneer that draws his lip to the high planes of his cheekbones, and a head tilting movement that is patronizing and obscene. it reminds you of his mother, "your regulus, isn't he the fucking best."

"he's not mine," you state tartly.

"hard to believe when he follows after you like a dog," he bites, and bites, and bites, but even through the layers upon layers, the soreness permeates and leaves you stricken into a stupor that only sirius can create, "listens and does everything you say. can't he think for himself. attached to your shoulder like some blithering pest."

you blink back the anger in your eyes. you are not going to cry, you tell yourself. if you do, then he will win, but he always does.

the boys stare at you. you don't know what to say. the feeling of it is tight and burns like an ulcer, "what has gotten into you? why do you hate me? i haven't-" your lips work through their turmoil, "-i haven't done anything to you."

he waves you off, dismissive. his hands tremble with some unspoken rage. "stop bothering me and go back to regulus. he's probably already looking for you."

the end of the conversation hangs heavily between you. sirius sniffs, and turns away in that blasé manner he always has with him, as if all life were a joke. his posture is too stiff and his features are too cold and he joins remus first as james and peter linger. you shake.

"i, uhm," james begins, but your glare silences him again. slowly, carefully, he nudges peter, "c'mon."

they leave, but james looks back. you miss it, head hung in defeat. your emotions threaten to burst free and splinter all over the stone. you think, in a hurry, how could you ever cover them up – with your hands, your body? is it the aftermath already, where everything is too obvious for pretence?

when it rains, it pours. it always has and you suspect it always will.

naturally, you are inconsolable. what a great big joke. no broom closet nor dusty cavern of the castle is familiar enough to hide in, and you cloak, despite its expanse, can hardly protect from sore eyes. the loo it is, locked in some stall and hiccupping. marzipan had mentioned finding a hufflepuff crying not a week in. she thought it amusing, and you did, too – who could ever abate decency and sob in the loo? what a terrible ploy for attention, had the girl expected consolation? no such could ever be found in marzipan, why, she said, and she said it proudly, she laughed quite loud and the crying stopped.

you would die on the spot if someone found you. it would feel like uncovering a horrible secret, being exposed in such a way. aren’t you a grown up? your birthday is soon, on a cold october night. grownups always breathe fine – besides your ditzy aunts – but you find there not being enough air. so much space and so little of it.

you fan yourself, and you heave, and in a tantrum you tussle out your cloak and throw it onto the gleaming white tiles. your cheeks burn and there’s an ache in the apex of your head. crying like this, over a boy, no less? sirius, of all? rabastan would point and laugh, point and laugh, point and laugh.

there’s a knock on your stall’s door and you nearly topple over in a scurry to silence yourself.

“hi, sorry,” the voice is unfamiliar, but it sounds kind, “are you alright?”

perfect, not only have you embarrassed yourself, you’ve aroused the suspicion of an idiot. there’s a gentle creak on the wood, as if a weight has settled. an ear, perhaps, pressed onto the surface, but for what?

you will your shaky hands to settle by your stomach. the fingers pinch and pool on the woollen fabric of your sweater. you gulp, but it gets stuck, and the silence stretches, so still.

“i-yes,” you manage. this won’t do, the tears cling to your mouth, “i’m, i'm okay.”

“do you need some water?”

if you weren’t so distraught, you’d delight at the curtsy. stupidity must be contagious because you shake your head.

“no, no,” you say after a pause.

“a tissue perhaps?”

“i'm fine,” seems you have managed to locate your wits. from some hellish depths, no doubt. swiftly, you retrieve your cloak, “thank you.”

“’s no worries,” the voice pipes. it belongs to a girl, you think, who doesn't budge, and, instead, waits. it seems your dramatics have riled someone. even the staff would scold your sorry condition, all snot and tears and shaking limbs – quite undignified, "can you tell me why you're crying?"

oh, merlin, how wonderful, the prodding and the poking and the horrible sympathy. are you so pitiable? perhaps. in this state. it's still hard to believe a complete stranger has found themselves so comfortable, "if i say i'm not crying will you go?"

the girl laughs, light and tittering. for a moment, it startles you, too, "not very likely."

the air remains stagnant, as if it's thick and spinning. the echoes of your sniffles bounce along the walls. you could tell her to piss off. you've heard it enough in the span of the last hour.

"i had a fight with my friend," you say eventually, "i think he hates me."

"did you do something to make him hate you?"

your forehead grazes the stall door. it leaves a cold spot and it makes you wince, "no."

"hmm," there is a sound of shuffling and more creaking, "well, then i wouldn't be very worried. he sounds like a dick, and what you need friends like that for?"

a great deal, actually. what did you think you were doing these years, clinging to his arm and curling into his bed when it rains? "what am i supposed to do?"

"beat him up, i imagine, and sort his sorry arse out."

you snort, though not very amused, "tried that."

"good start," you imagine her nodding and crossing her arms, "now, if i were you, i'd hex him into tomorrow and we'll never hear from him again."

"sounds wicked," you lament. the thought has crossed your mind, but revenge crumbles into some mushy, pitiful mess if you think on it too long.

"positively evil," she agrees. the silence returns, but it's comfortable, "i’ve got parchment in case you wanna practice curses."

a corner of your mouth quirks. your chest aches, but it's no longer full and painful, "that's alright, thank you."

"always wanted to be an accomplice," you hear the smile in her voice, "no trouble at all."

a final stretch of quiet. it allows you to breathe, really breathe, and pull yourself into order, as it were. it's no pretty sight, the state of you, but it no longer compares to how you first came in, a crying mess. when you open the stall, and face the girl for the first time, a kind face greets you. her brown skin is flush, hair twisted into two plaited horns that are gathered into a half bun, the rest pinned around her head. your nose twitches, itchy.

she grins, "there you are. no longer crying."

the cold from the running faucet burns against your cheeks. the face that peers back at you from the mirror is dishevelled. red-rimmed eyes and wet splotches all over. you grimace, "look like a sordid mess."

"well, yes, but, like a normal sordid mess. like, almost pretty normal," she stands behind. a red lion's emblem is embroidered into her uniform. she tilts her head, "like, i look way worse when i do it. at least you cry prettily."

"oh, you think so?" you turn to her, "no one's ever said that."

her nose wrinkles, but the mirth isn't gone from her eyes, "well, don't suppose you make a habit of sobbing in front of others. lest you wouldn't have barricaded yourself in the stall."

you hum, "quite the excellent point."

she flashes her teeth and nods proudly, "of course, got many," there's a slight silence where she appraises you, "you're lestrange, right? i've seen you in my classes," she asks as though she knows, and extends her hand for you to shake, "i'm dorcas. meadowes. gryffindor.”

“slytherin,” you respond, but shake her hand anyway.

“can tell,” dorcas says, that same lilt of a smile on her lips, “you wear it with pride.”

yes, of course, because that is what lestrange do. her family name is unrecognizable, but you don't think to wonder on it much further. her eyes are friendly and warm, and she takes to fixing the wayward strands of your hair while you dab a bit of tissue paper to your nose. a few seconds go by, and she glances at you from under the hair fallen onto her forehead, "i still have parchment, and we could still get you those curses down."

"haven't the ink to draw any, unfortunately," you reply.

"hm. next time then," dorcas decides for herself, and makes for the door, "think a walk to the kitchens might be in order?" she leaves her invitation open-ended, her gaze expectant, "could use a warm cinnamon bun."

you wonder about her, dorcas meadowes, with the shiny dark eyes and plaits and how well she talks to strange girls who cry in bathroom stalls. "alright," you accept, the smile on your face not as strained, nor sad, nor angry, "lead the way."

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nunalastor · 1 day

Note

Serial Roommates

Guy really wanted to know why Lucifer disliked him so much. He can understand Husk since Alastor owns his soul, but hopefully Guy can convince Alastor to let his contracts go, eventually. But Lucifer was a different factor all together. Could it be his friendship with Alastor? He’s heard Lucifer and Alastor don’t really like each other, so it could be hatred of association kind of thing but he’s noticed how Lucifer treats Nifty and Rosie, so it didn’t make sense. Every time they passed each other, Guy would greet him but Lucifer would just give a dirty look.

It became more obvious whenever Alastor and Guy would plan an outing together. Show Guy around hell and reminisce old times, Lucifer would suddenly bring up a task that Alastor would have to do. Like the toilet’s clogged again, guest has an issue, you have paperwork to finish and etc etc. Once Alastor left to deal with one of the tasks, Guy decided to confront Lucifer.

Didn’t work in his favor as the fallen angel refused to even listen to him until he brought up the fact he was trying to redeem Alastor.

“What’s your problem with me? I’m trying to redeem my friend who by the way you hate, so if he gets into heaven you’re never going to see him again.”

Once he said that, Guy could hear a demonic growl and the whole room turned pitched black. The only light source was the glow of Lucifer’s eyes as they glared hatefully at the Angel and his horns already sprouted.

“YOU INSIGNIFICANT INSECT, YOU DARE PRESUME TO KNOW THINGS ABOUT ME?! IF YOU WEREN’T UNDER HEAVEN’S PROTECTION I WOULD TEAR OUT YOUR WINGS BEFORE EVISCERATING YOU!”

“Oh Guy, what did you do to make our majesty so riled up?” A cheerful taunting voice broke through the tension and suddenly the room was filled with light. Lucifer was back to form but still menacing look that promised suffering. He walked towards Alastor and said,

“Alastor, make sure to keep your dog on leash because next time I won’t be so merciful.” That was the only thing he said before he disappeared in red smoke.

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #alastor #serial roommates #lucifer morningstar #lucifer

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beautifulbows924 · 1 day

Text

Common Ground

Act One!Astarion x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 650+

A/N: This fic is sort of a combination of a few of the (comparatively) similar requests I received, along with one particular scene that’s been running wild and ping ponging around in my brain for far too long. I somehow convinced my partner (who could not care less about fanfiction, but adores me) to proofread this for me. So any complaints should definitely be addressed to them—as I was, unfortunately, far too sleep deprived to read over this anymore than I already have. As always, I hope you enjoy—feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments, and happy reading! :)

Warnings: Angst, intentional allusions to past SA (the circumstances are left purposefully vague), concerning both Astarion and the Reader, writer will often suddenly break off into unexpected poetic tangents, a smidge of fluff—if you squint, & perhaps a bittersweet ending (depending on how you interpret it?)

“Darling”, Astarion carefully poses his words, “Are you certain that you’re quite alright?”

You’re terrified. He can see it. Your pulse is visibly thumping beneath your skin, and there’s a tremor to your hands he’s certain wasn’t there before.

But why now?

You’ve told him you trust him, demanded the others leave if they weren’t willing to accept the gift that is his company, and mere seconds ago offered yourself to him as a meal—to what you, with both intimate knowledge and first hand experience, know is a hungry vampire.

He would be questioning your sense of self preservation, or alternatively, your sanity. If he wasn’t awed by just how quickly you’ve managed to sway your companions' loyalty.

It takes a moment for you to notice he’s asked you a question. But once you have, you nod.

He sighs, clicking his tongue at you. That vacancy behind your eyes, it’s unnerving, too familiar. “Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you. What is it?”

Your gaze shifts, opting to search for what must be a rather interesting spot somewhere behind him.

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion falters. That may have been harsh—if your continued silence is anything to go by. Perhaps, he should have left the lie to rest.

“Dearest”, he works to intentionally soften his tone, shoving past the honeyed lump that rises in his throat, thickly coated with syrup. This little manipulation won’t be ending in a hand naively held between his as he leads you down unassuming crypt steps.

He knows that.

“If you’ve suddenly changed your mind about”, he gestures vaguely between himself and your neck, “I’m sure I can make do with whatever animals find themselves unluckily situated in this part of the forest.”

Humble or selfless certainly isn’t his favorite role to play, but if he wants you to be his personal guard, it seems he may have to make an exception.

“No!” You blurt out, swallowing thickly at the raised brow he sends in your direction, mouth suddenly very dry, “I—It’s not that. I swear to you.”

He tuts, “Ah, but it is something. Hmm?”

You nod again, frustrated tears building in your eyes as each attempt at an explanation falls flat.

“No, it couldn’t—it”, Astarion makes a rather exaggerated motion with both of his hands, clutching his chest in theatrical shock, “Was it Gale?”

You huff, but it’s more exasperated than annoyed.

The left side of his lips lifts.

You drag your own roughly between your teeth.

“Earlier, you made a comment about being quiet, not wanting to disturb my rest”, unsteady hands bury themselves in the fabric of your pants, “Those words, the sudden realization that someone…anyone could have access to my body like that while I slept”, your head slumps forward, “The last time—I can’t.”

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion’s fingers slot into place beneath your chin, tilting it upwards to look at him.

And suddenly all you can see are the differences.

Everything he is appears less forced. No longer are you merely an audience and he an actor, but equals. Those that have found a common ground built upon the cruelty of others.

Far too accustomed to it.

There’s a raw familiarity held within your expression Astarion can’t quite discern.

Perhaps, in another life, someone cared for him. Once. To look at him with such fondness.

He wonders if he deserved it, then.

He allows the hold he has on you to become lighter and lighter, until his arm returns to hang at his side.

You hear a weary sigh, then, gently, “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry.”

A small smile flutters across your lips, light and without expectation. It’s a kindness he hasn’t yet learned how to navigate—and certainly has not earned, but he yearns for it all the same.

“Thank you, Astarion.”

BG3 Taglist: None yet!

#bg3 #Astarion x unnamed reader #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #baldur's gate 3 #vampire spawn astarion #gender neutral reader #astarion x you #astarion angst #trigger warning: sa #fluff and angst #bg3 fanfiction

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munson-blurbs · 10 hours

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Hey, I love your writing so much! If you’re taking requests I’d like a short fic about reader mourning the loss of their dog? I just lost my girl Sasha and would like a comfort fic , Eddie or Steve, either is cool with me- phantom

Hi, love 💚 I'm so sorry to hear about your loss, and I hope this fic helps you through the grieving process. I went with Eddie for this one.

TW: death, loss of a pet, grief CW: 690

It feels like it should be raining.

The sun hangs high in the sky, a gentle breeze blowing every so often. The weather gives no indication of any impending storm, not even a hint of gray in the white clouds. But to you, there’s a darkness that even the brightest light can’t repair.

There will be no more wagging tail and excited barking to greet you when you come home. The realization cleaves your heart clean in half.

Tears burn at your eyes and you let them fall, sliding down your cheeks and plopping unceremoniously onto the concrete stoop beneath you.

“Hey.”

You look up and see Eddie standing in front of you, a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of daisies in his grasp.

“Hi.”

The wrapping crinkles under his fingers as he sits beside you. He scoots close enough so you can rest your head on his shoulder. An ugly sob escapes you in a dramatic heave, but he refrains from commenting. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all.

You bask in the comforting silence, no expectations to talk or bare your feelings. Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead and sighs.

“Can I say something?” He asks, and for the first time, you notice that he’s been crying, too. When you nod, he softly says, “She was a really good dog. The best, actually.”

“Mhm.” You don’t dare open your mouth for fear of starting up the waterworks again.

“I keep thinking about the time I brought over burgers from Benny’s,” he continues, “and I left them on the counter for two seconds, and she tore into them.”

You scoff lightly. “It was more than two seconds.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t time it or anything. But it was fast. Like, lightning speed.” He taps his toe, knee brushing against the flower stems. “These are for you, by the way.”

Taking the daisies from him, you hold them to your nose and inhale. Fresh, new, alive. The juxtaposition has your chin wobbling embarrassingly. “Th-Thanks, Eds.”

Another pause, then: “Y’know, I lost a pet once, too.”

You swivel around, eyebrows pinched together. “I didn’t know Wayne let you have a pet.”

“He didn’t. I had to keep it a secret.”

“How did you manage to keep a dog a secret?” It’s not as though he and his uncle lived in a mansion; the tiniest Chihuahua could be easily spotted in their trailer.

Eddie grins. “Who said anything about a dog?”

“A cat?”

He shook his head, giving the same response for your guesses of rabbit, lizard, and bird.

“Do I even wanna know?”

He presses a hand to his heart in feigned offense. “I can’t believe you don’t remember Ant-chovy.”

You burst out laughing despite the weighty grief bogging you down. “Are you seriously comparing the death of my dog to the death of an ant?”

“He was my friend!” Eddie retorts. “And he was murdered right before my very eyes!”

You knock your shoulder into his with a playful shove. “Weren’t you the one who stepped on him?”

He scowls and plucks the bouquet from your hands. “I bring you flowers in your time of need, and you mock me?”

A smile tugs at your lips. “My deepest apologies. And my condolences for the loss of your dear friend, Ant-chovy. Who certainly was not an ant and who you definitely knew for more than five minutes.”

“Thank you.” Eddie gives you back the daisies; this time, he leans his head on your shoulder. “You’re gonna get through this.”

“Feels like I’ll be sad forever.”

He nods. “I know. But you won’t be. And I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to fuck off.”

You take a deep breath. “Is it okay if we talk a little bit about her? Like, share memories of her? Just for a little bit?”

“Course it’s okay.” Eddie smiles, coaxing the emotions from you without even trying. “You wanna go first?”

You do. With each word, the sunshine doesn’t sting quite as harshly; the blue sky seems less out of place. And should the rain start to fall, you will always find shelter in Eddie.

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #requests

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