#she was like THIS IS THE TYPE I IMAGINE YOU WITH

[limarieb]

so high school

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Growing up, you could never understand how people your age were so romantically interested in other people. You begin to understand for the first time, however, when you encounter a certain Sokovian during your first semester of university.

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, college!au, friends (?) to lovers, college au, making out, slight angst (but not really)

Word Count: 4.0k

Author's Note: everyone say thank you taylor swift for the spontaneous new fic! also this is lightly proofread, so edits might be made later oops

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

...

Growing up, you never truly dated anyone. Sure, you had crushes on fictional characters in the media you consumed, and you allotted arguably too much time to admiring celebrities online; but, you never saw anyone in your personal life in such a light. At various hangouts and sleepovers over the years, you noticed just how much your friends discussed their love lives. Hushed whispers and sighs of the same phrase, “I really like them,” flooded your ears in the hallways at school. You had originally tried to join in on the conversations, not wanting to be excluded, but you simply couldn't engage in them wholeheartedly; eventually, the inability to relate began to upset you. You naturally boiled it down to something that must have been wrong with you — how could it possibly be normal to be like this when everyone else around you seemed to share these romantic sentiments?

Thankfully, you became completely preoccupied, both mentally and physically, by the prospect of university. By the time your junior year of high school had started, your love life — or lack thereof — no longer held too much importance to you. Instead of keeping whimsical love letters on your desk like others your age did, you opted to pile various books. From Camus to Aristotle, you discovered a deep fascination and affinity to the field of philosophy and the metaphysical discussions it posed. Therefore, when your senior year had arrived, you threw yourself head first into your studies, determined to build up your application in order to get into a top university.

After accepting your offer into one of the best philosophy programs in the nation, you anticipated your time at university, daydreaming about all of the things you would study and all of the people you would meet there.

But never could you have anticipated someone like Wanda Maximoff.

You had met her during one of your introductory courses in your first semester. Wanda was the type of person that, upon first glance, you would be scared. Not just because she was undeniably pretty, but she also had this stone cold exterior to her. Her lips were permanently etched into a slight frown, and she never really showed too much expression while she spoke during class. To put it simply, she intimidated you; so, you settled on admiring the brunette from afar (two seats up, one to the left — if you were to be specific).

Your plans changed, however, after the two of you got assigned to be partners for a class project. It was just a presentation, but it required you both to meet outside of class to work on it. You would be a liar if you said your heart didn't skip a beat at the thought of seeing Wanda outside of these four walls of your classroom, even if it was just to work on this assignment.

Seemingly unbothered by it all, she gave you her number for you to set up a date and time to meet. Her messages were all business, but they still made you feel like a dopey teenager every time her name showed up on your screen.

The day quickly came for you both to work on the presentation. Ultimately, you had settled on the two of you meeting in your dorm, which you made sure to deep clean before she came. You were not necessarily messy by any means, but the idea of Wanda, the most daunting person you could imagine, stepping into the safe space of your room made your blood run cold for some reason.

As Wanda knocked on your door, you rushed to open it. The two of you stood face to face for a moment, divided only by the doorframe. She still had her typical frown, but you noticed it shift into the slight uptick of a smirk. After a moment had passed, she finally broke the silence. "Are you gonna let me in, or...?" she asked, teasing you and your awkward nature.

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you stepped aside for her to enter, "Oh, right... Sorry."

You led her to your side of the room, where she stood for a moment analyzing all of your possessions. You felt small as she did so, like a tiny insect under a bright, unsettling microscope.

She suddenly turned to face you, dropping her bag on the floor, "So, are we gonna work on this or not?"

That is how you found yourself on the floor, her laying on her back and you on your stomach. You had your computer in front of you, typing furiously as she provided you the words and ideas. You glanced over at her every now and then, especially if she was being awfully silent.

Most times, she would just be looking up at the ceiling in thought, her brown hair sprawled in random patterns underneath her; however, after a particularly long bought of silence, you looked over at her to find her gaze directly on you. You quickly returned your eyes to the screen of your computer and began typing whatever came to your mind. You hoped she did not notice the blush rise to your face.

She did.

She sighed, turning her body to lay completely facing you. "You're very quiet, you know," she stated, closely observing your reactions highlighted by the light of your screen.

Unsure of how to respond, you simply say, "So I've been told."

"Oh," she exclaimed, her smirk from earlier returns. "She has jokes."

You hum in agreement, "Just a few, unfortunately."

With the project now finished, the two of you abandoned it in favor of simply talking to each other. Never would you have guessed that Wanda could be this... warm. Unlike what you had witnessed in the classroom, she was very friendly and sarcastic in the privacy of your dorm.

You discovered a lot of information about the brunette during this conversation, such as how she loved coffee but only if its iced, how she never loved texting (preferring to call or talk in-person) but will do so if she must, how she immigrated with her twin brother from Sokovia when they were children. As she recounted her memories from Sokovia, you could hear the accent she once had poking through the surface; although, you did not point it out, afraid it was an insecurity of hers. Maybe you would tell her another time how nice it sounded, but for now, you bonded with her about collecting CDs and vinyl records from various artists.

While the two of you casually spoke, all you could think about was her — how pretty she was under the dimmed lighting of your dorm, how every joke she told was the epitome of humor, how much you wanted to stay in this moment with her. She was perfect.

Is this what people were talking about in high school?

As the night came to an inevitable end, you found yourself feeling quite sad, for you no longer had an excuse to hang out with Wanda. Though she had her number, you did not have the confidence to use it and ask if she wanted to meet up again.

You did not have to worry too much about it. As she packed her belongings back into her bag, swinging it over her shoulder, she spoke, "You know, you're pretty cool, Y/N."

You tried to hide the shock caused by her words, "Thank you, I think?"

She chuckled lowly, "My friends are having this thing at my place this weekend, if you wanted to join?"

Your head perked up, eyes blinking rapidly in shock. Unable to deny her offer, you nodded, "Yeah, sure... okay."

“Great,” she replied, walking toward your door. You followed behind her and reached around to open for her. She smiled at the gesture before speaking again, “I’ll text you later with the details and everything. See you in class.”

“Yeah, see you,” you returned. As you closed door behind her, you feel your mind finally catch up to reality: you, the stereotype of a nerd with very few friends, are going to hang out with Wanda and her friends.

You close your eyes, leaning your head onto the back of the door. “Oh, shit,” you whisper aloud into the open air. What have you just gotten yourself into?

Decoding your own thoughts and feelings about the Sokovian in the days leading up to your next class had revealed just how infatuated you had become; yet, you didn't even know how to act upon them. For years, you had only observed romantic behaviors from the outside looking in, whether it be through your friends' dating experiences or the words on a page from whichever sapphic novel you had picked to read. Now that you finally found yourself in the loop, what were you supposed to do?

Should you message her about whatever? No, that would come across as needy and overbearing.

What if you found her after class and ask to hang out again? No, that's even more overbearing than the text message.

The internal war waged on, resulting in your mind and body being paralyzed out of anxiety. For now, you have settled on simply waiting for her message regarding this weekend and presenting your assignment with her this week during class.

Days later, you walked into the class, practically shaking from your nerves about the presentation and the girl that you had to present with (who had just so happened to become your first teenage crush over the span of weeks).

You sat down in your unofficially assigned seat. Being so focused on the way your leg bounced repeatedly, you failed to notice the familiar brunette enter the classroom. Instead of sitting in her typical seat, however, she dropped her bag on the floor by the seat directly next to you.

Wanda instantly noted your nervous demeanor. While she had her own anxieties regarding the presentation and such, hers remained within her mind. She never showed such things outwardly, unless she was with someone with who she felt undeniably comfortable expressing those thoughts.

She slid into the seat and reached over to place her hand on your bouncing leg. Immediately, you noticed the feeling of someone's hand, breaking the chain of your anxious thoughts; upon glancing to your side, you discovered the culprit: Wanda.

"Hey," she started. "Everything is going to be fine, I promise."

Unable to find the words currently, you opted to remain silent, but you provide her with a uncertain nod in return. With a squeeze of her hand as a final attempt at reassurance, she placed her hand back within her lap and waited for the class to begin.

As always, Wanda was right. Your presentation went well; there were a few instances of stumbling words on your part, but otherwise it went great.

When the two of you returned to your seats, she leaned over and muttered under her breath for you to hear, "Told you so."

As you began to do your typical nighttime routine that evening, you heard your phone go off. Unsuspecting to who it was, you tapped on the screen under the assumption that it was just another email added to your overflowing inbox. You were wrong yet again.

Wanda: hey y/n !! are you still able to make it to the thing this weekend?? its gonna be on saturday at my place... lmk !!

You stared at the message for a moment before confirming you would still be in attendance, of course. Was it normal for your heart rate to speed up this much from mere words on a screen?

Saturday night rolled around quicker than you had anticipated. It was almost time to leave, yet you were currently standing still in your pajamas, surrounded by the miscellaneous clothing items you had thrown around. Ultimately, you had settled on the outfit you had first chosen, resulting in a bunch of unnecessary cleaning afterwards.

When you arrived to her place, you promptly knocked on the door. A moment passed before the door creaked open to reveal the Sokovian. Her outfit was considerably more casual than others you had seen her wear around campus. She stood in front of you, adorned with an oversized band tee and jeans; her fingers were still littered with her usual assortment of rings. However, the thing that surprised you the most was her lack of makeup. Not that she needed it, of course; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Tonight she seemed to have abandoned her typical heavy eyeliner and rose-colored shade of lipstick, choosing to only use her mascara and some chapstick.

"Sorry for the jumpscare," Wanda joked, her nose scrunched in amusement from your reaction. She continued to explain, "I know I'm dressed down compared to class. I just don't like putting in the effort to get ready sometimes, especially to just hang out with friends."

"No!" you exclaimed, quickly trying to backtrack the way she took your shocked expression. "No, you're fine. You're beautiful, actually, I just- I was just surprised to see you without the eyeliner and all."

Her cheeks became flushed at the compliment, but you seemed to miss it being overly concerned with your own response. She chuckled at your awkwardness, "Thanks. Oh, you can come in, by the way. I think everyone is here now."

She introduced you to each friend, after which you gave an insecure wave in return.

As the night progressed, you gradually loosened up. Whether it was time or the alcohol in your bloodstream, it frankly did not matter to you. You were not drunk by any means but definitely buzzed enough to not worry about every single decision you made. You even talked to one of Wanda's friends, Natasha, for awhile without the Sokovian present (given that she had left to use the restroom, but it still counts in your mind).

Suddenly, you were sat on the floor, playing childish party games with the others. It was fun, you couldn't lie... until it wasn't. You had already survived Truth or Dare, but someone (Tony) had suggested Spin the Bottle. With no romantic history, it was practically a given that you subsequently had not kissed anyone yet. For your first kiss to be during a stupid game of Spin the Bottle would be depressing; but, you didn't want to be the loser who said no to playing because the reason would be too humiliating to explain.

So, you elected to power through the hesitation, hoping the bottle just would not land on you.

At first, you were confident. The game was now three rounds in, and you remained lucky.

Eventually, the group had noted your lack of participation and had chosen to give you a "free spin." You silently prayed it would at least land on someone with whom you had become somewhat acquainted. With a shaky hand, you reached forward, spinning the emptied beer bottle. In the moment, it felt like the bottle would never stop spinning, but, once it did, it felt like time froze altogether.

It landed on Wanda.

Though you liked the brunette, you truly did not want your first kiss to be this way, especially with her.

She instantly noticed your apprehension. Turning to where Tony sat in the circle, she offered, "Hey, what if we did a hybrid of this and Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

Your eyes widened at the question, feeling unsure about all of this.

With a smirk on his face, Tony agreed, "I like the way you think, Maximoff. Alright, new girl, go follow Maximoff, and don't have too much fun while you're gone."

Before walking off with Wanda to the nearest bathroom, she briefly turned around to aim her middle finger at the boy. Though you were extremely overcome with anxiety about what was about to occur in the bathroom, you released a chuckle at her response.

She pulled you into the bathroom, flipping the lights on. As the door clicked shut, you faced her with your back against the wall.

"So, um, what are we supposed to do?" you asked.

"We don't have to do anything, Y/N," she replied, leaning against the bathroom counter. "I just noticed you weren't very comfortable with the idea of kissing me out there, so I improvised a little bit."

"Oh, okay," you breathed out. "Just for the record, it was not the idea of kissing you that made me uncomfortable. You- You're cool, so, it's fine."

Wanda tilted her head in curiosity, clearly not expecting that response. "Oh?" she questioned. "What was it then? Because I could clearly tell you were not very comfortable in there... I mean, you were visibly stiff."

"It's not you, I just..." you looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"'It's not you, it's me'?" she joked, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes! No! I mean..." you exhaled. "It's not that the idea of kissing you makes me uncomfortable because, believe me, it very much doesn't. I just- I've never done this before."

The blood rushed to your cheeks during your admission. You felt utterly embarrassed, wishing you could just be back in your dorm in this moment.

"Y/N," she called softly. Despite every ounce of your body screaming at you to not do so, you returned your gaze to the Sokovian. "Do you want to kiss me?"

You couldn't read her tone. A part of you was nervous, maybe this was all some sick joke between her and her friends; yet, the other part of you was thrilled by the proposition alone.

"I wouldn't oppose," you muttered, automatically employing humor as your defense mechanism.

Wanda rolled her eyes at your antics, "Ok, then, let's play a new game." She looked down at her phone, checking the time. "We have less than four minutes in here."

Confused by the sudden change, you acquiesced in her request, "Okay?"

She stepped closer to you, standing a foot away.

Her tongue escaped her mouth, briefly licking her lips, before she proposed, "Are you going to marry, kiss, or kill me?"

Your eyes widened at the unexpected question, but you attempted to recover in order to return her playful energy, "Can I choose all three?"

Her eyebrow had risen, the infamous smirk forming on her lips. Slowly, she inched closer and closer to you until you could feel her breath on your skin. One hand found refuge on your hip, while the other she brought to the side of your face. She used her fingers to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear then cradled your face. You licked your own lips and closed your eyes in anticipation.

Then, you felt it. Her lips brushed against yours, softly and slowly as if she were testing the waters. It was only a peck, but you swear your heart burst from the experience.

A moment passed before she pulled away enough for her to speak.

"Was that okay?" she inquired, ensuring you were still interested in this.

"More than," you affirmed.

She smiled, "Good, because we still have a few minutes left, and I intend to use them."

Without another second, she connected your lips once again. This time was different, however; there was a newfound fervor behind it. Her kisses started slow like the initial pace, gradually becoming quicker and deeper. Uncertain about what to exactly do, you continue to follow her lead. You felt her slide her tongue across your lips, asking for entrance. How could you ever deny her that? As her tongue began to clumsily caress with yours, a familiar feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, but you ignored it and kept kissing her.

A knock at the door pulled you both back into reality.

"Time's up, lovebirds," the voice called. "Clothes better be on and straightened when you leave."

Wanda chuckled at her friend's words and bit her lip. For the first time, you think you see her outwardly nervous. She swallowed as she shifted her gaze from your lips to meet your eyes, "Hey, I um- I hope this wasn't a one time thing."

You sighed in relief, "With you? Never."

She leaned forward once more, placing a final peck on your lips before grabbing your hand to return to the circle. Instead of your prior placements on the floor, in which she sat on the other end, Wanda refused to let go of your hand, instead pulling you to where she had been sitting.

Thankfully, no one mentioned how your cheeks were now incredibly plagued with a pink hue, allowing the game to continue onward.

After the group decided to finish playing games and turn on a movie, you followed Wanda to the couch in order to sit next to her. As soon as you found your place at the end of the sofa, she gravitated closer, leaning into your side. Her head rested on your shoulder as if you both had been close for years.

The movie American Pie started playing, all of her friends too engrossed in it to note how the two of you were cuddled up together. She picked her head up from its place on your shoulder. You didn't think too much of it, imagining her neck must have simply gotten uncomfortable in that position.

However, she turned her head to face you, taking in the sight of you and her friends all hanging out and watching a movie. Unable to resist herself any longer, she leaned in closer, her breath hitting your ear as she whispered to you, "I can't focus on the movie. All I can think about is kissing you right now."

You rotated your head to face her, biting your lip at her words. "Shush, your friends are here," you quietly argued, but you were secretly enjoying her antics. You peered over her shoulder, observing her friends who sat quietly with their attentions fully focused on the film.

Wanda pressed a soft kiss to the base of your neck prior to returning to its original position on your shoulder. You sighed at the feeling of her affection, wondering if it would linger forever.

Soon enough, the movie ended, and it was time to go home for the night. Her friends had left moments ago, but not without saying how you should "come around more often." Honestly, you were deeply excited that you received their approval, especially after the recent developments with Wanda.

You stayed behind for a little, attempting to garner as much alone time with Wanda as you could without being interrupted.

With the others now gone, you allowed Wanda to be more affectionate; or rather, you allowed her to give in to her desires and kiss you again, and again, and again.

After the final peck, you pulled away with the cheesiest smile and swollen lips. She loved seeing you this way: giddy and carefree.

"I really like you, Wanda," you proclaimed with a sigh, effectively breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. "Like, a lot."

"I really like you, too," she replied. "You know, in case it got lost in translation with the kissing and everything."

You playfully slapped the side of her arm. "I'm serious," you started. "You make me feel so... high school."

She raised her brow, gesturing for you to continue.

You resumed, "I never felt like this, especially during high school. For a while, I actually thought something was wrong with me." Her lips formed a slight pout at your past conflict. "I was always so... jealous of others my age, having all of these teenage experiences with crushes and romance. Since I never did, I just assumed that it was my fault, that something was wrong with me. It was isolating; it felt like some inside joke that everyone else knew about except me. But, I'm happy I waited, truthfully, because now I can experience all of those high school feelings with you."

End.

#limarieb #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #marvel imagines #limarieb wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

No Hard Feelings - Carlos Sainz Jr

Dark fic 18+ - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS

Summary: Lewis said there's no hard feelings between them. These things happen in life. So when Lewis' girlfriend just so happens to cheat on him with Carlos, there's no hard feelings there either? After all these things happen.

Sidenote: There is some sweet and genuinely caring moments from Carlos but his motive is still to hurt Lewis.

Warnings/themes: Manipulation/coercion, cheating, smut, revenge, very naive!reader

No part 2 requests please

The world knows Carlos is hurting and he's on a mission to get another seat before the end of the season, preferably before the end of the month would be great but that's fairly optimistic.

Really he knows he can't blame Lewis. But the feelings of hatred and rage that fill him when he sees the Brit are surely warranted. He would've had that contract in the bag if it wasn't for that twat. All he needed was for Ferrari to keep him that one season before 2026 and his Audi contract was there. Could Lewis not have just waited?

Now Carlos is aware that bringing an innocent bystander into the mess and drama of F1 isn't fair. Especially when that said bystander is Lewis' girlfriend.

Y/n y/l/n.

Oh she's perfect. Young, innocent, a real sweetheart.

Not really the type most would imagine Lewis going for. He's usually after the bold, confident and loud type. Y/n is very softly spoken and her sweet nature seems to make her almost Bambi-like, which couldn't make her anymore of a perfect match for Carlos really.

Carlos has spoken to her enough times that he thinks it's safe to say they're friends, she's so polite and seems to just have perfected how to be the perfect woman. At least in Carlos' opinion.

So he'd really like to have her for himself.

And as if y/n was summoned by the universe to help his plan along.

"Y/n, hey." Carlos greets jogging to catch up with the young woman.

"Hi, Carlos." Y/n grins always happy to just be alongside anyone.

"Where's Lewis?"

"Oh, he's not here today. He's actually sort of ill so he's been excused from media duties for the day." Y/n smiles sadly making him frown. "I know I shouldn't be here, but he's not very nice when he's sick and he said I was getting in the way and smothering him. So...I just though I'd be alright coming here."

Is the universe finally favouring him? This is too perfect.

"That's not very nice of him." Carlos frowns making her shrug. "You can spend the day with me if you want, get a sneak peak at Ferrari."

"I don't know..." Y/n winces trying to be polite but clearly she's trying to be smart.

"Come on, I promise you will be in such a good mood by the end of the day. You have my word." Carlos states making her sigh before she groans and tilts her head for a moment. "Come on, it will be fun. I promise."

"Mmm..." Y/n smiles before seeming to move over with a small nod and smile. "Ok. It does sound like you're making big promises though."

"Ah, don't doubt me though. I will follow through on it." Carlos grins watching her mirror his expression.

-

Y/n really wasn't sure what to expect but Carlos really pulled out all the stops, he got her a jacket when she was cold, he let her sit in the Ferrari which was her first time ever getting to sit in an F1 car and he made sure she was eating.

"You should come to dinner with me." Carlos states as they finally reach the end of the day.

"Now I might really be pushing it." Y/n giggles since she is sure Lewis will be asking questions. The man can be quite jealous but equally, he's the one who was mean enough for her to feel like she needed to leave.

"We have to a have proper ending to our day." Carlos smiles then deciding that he may need to pull in aid. "If you don't want it to be just us then we could bring Lando? He's never got plans."

"He doesn't?"

"No." Carlos nods before pausing. "I will go double check and then we can figure out where we're going."

"No. No. It's fine. We're adults." Y/n states shaking her head quickly.

Carlos looks at her for a moment because it really seems like she's trying to convince herself that this is all fine more than himself.

When they get to dinner, Carlos is watching her carefully uncertain of what she's going to do but while at first she was pretty talkative and eager then toward the end she's gone quiet and seems at a bit of a loss.

"Dessert?" Carlos making her hesitant since they did ask for dessert menus and y/n initially looked really eager but something changes.

"No. I'm full. Thank you though." Y/n smiles closing the menu. "Need to stop my eyes being too big for my belly."

"What if we split it? That way you still get dessert but you don't have to feel too full."

"Ok, that sounds good." Y/n nods biting her lip a little.

And so they get a cheesecake of her choice before splitting it, though Carlos make sure it's slightly more than him.

"I'll walk you back." Carlos states making her smile at him.

"You're very sweet."

"You think?"

"Yes." Y/n mumbles almost shyly while Carlos links their hands and smiles brightly at her, especially watching her get a little flustered over his action.

"You know...I could treat you very good." Carlos states deciding to just put it out there. "I think we'd be good together."

Y/n can't even manage an "oh" she's just stunned to silence but Carlos picked his moment well and she's left at Lewis' hotel door with a kiss on her cheek and Carlos walking away leaving his words to marinate.

Y/n stands at the hotel door for long enough that George appears and knocks her to her senses.

"You alright?" George chuckles noticing her completely out of it.

"Y-Yeah, just...tired and Lewis is ill so I don't know if I want to go back in there." Y/n smiles before she swallows thickly and looks at him for a moment. "I'll see you tomorrow, Georgie."

"Bye, y/n." George smiles though when she steps into the room he sighs shaking his head.

In a fairly universal opinion, Lewis and y/n are ill-matched to say the least. While Lewis is a kind, caring and happy man, he's not good at handling y/n's slightly younger and much more naive personality. It's not that they're a bad couple, it's just any time you see them it feels wrong that they're together.

"Lewis?" Y/n calls walking into the hotel room to find him up and seemingly ready for a workout. "What's...going on?"

"I feel better, I was going to hit the gym. Are you coming?"

"O-Oh yeah, I'll join in." Y/n nods before she finds him walking towards her, inked hands cupping her face.

"I'm sorry for earlier, it wasn't nice to be horrible to you when you were just trying to help me feel better." Lewis sighs quickly pecking her lips. "What did you do all day?"

"I...I went to the paddock, just kept myself busy. A few of the other drivers noticed I was on my own so they kept me company a bit."

"That's nice."

"Yeah...Anyway, I'll just change then we can go." Y/n mumbles making him smile and kiss her again.

-

Carlos had been in her head, and every time she saw him he was already looking at her. The internal panic was like a fire in her chest.

Somehow her attempts at avoiding him were nothing but failure and she found herself almost constantly bumping into him, small touches on her waist were making her focus far too much. Somehow he'd even managed to get close enough to be whispering in her ear.

Carlos has gotten more ballsy and unapologetic in his attempts to get in her head and much to her shame, it's very effective.

It's even earned Lewis' attention and he's not exactly happy about it.

So confronting Carlos was hard, and she had to do it when Lewis was guaranteed to be busy. So...while he's asleep.

Creeping out the hotel and moving around to get herself to Carlos' hotel and then to his room isn't exactly a simple task but she manages it, knocking on his door for a few minutes before Carlos appears very much freshly awoken and half naked.

"Y/n?" Carlos smirks clearly feeling fairly amused by her presence. "What can I help you with?"

"You-you have to stop. Lewis is getting upset. You-You whisper in my ear and you're always touching me." Y/n stresses walking in the room as he slowly closes the door walking to follow her but with her back turns, he takes the opportunity.

"Do you tell him what I say?" Carlos questions making her swallow as he pulls her back against himself, hands holding her tightly as he moves a hand up to her neck gently tipping her head back as he kisses her neck.

"N-No."

"What do you think he'd say if he knew?"

Y/n doesn't even get a word out.

"You're not even trying to stop me, y/n. I bet if I got you on that bed or bent you over, you'd let me have whatever I want from you." Carlos state while she whimpers.

He's been waiting, slowly making her want him and while she thinks she's been making the effort to avoid him. He's noticed her constantly looking for him.

"You can't even force yourself to say no." Carlos chuckles before he decides to be quick, there is still the risk of her coming to her sense. Her morals may have yet to risk to the surface and only be delayed by jet lag.

He's got her underdressed kneeling on the sofa, resting her arms on the back in less than a minute. Wasting time is not going to be on his agenda for finally hitting the nail into the coffin of winning her over. Or if no winning her over then at least ending the relationship between her and Lewis.

"What do you want?" Carlos questions making her stutter on a breath.

"I-I want you."

"Good. Because you've got me." Carlos smirks running his hand down between her legs and feeling enough wetness to be more accurately called a waterfall.

Usually he'd be one to indulge in foreplay but on this occasion he's still not aiming to waste time. Plus he can always enjoy that part in the morning. He intends for her to find it a struggle to get out of bed anyway.

"Carlos." Y/n whimpers, her body pliable with his touch and when he pushes into her.

He know his reasons for doing this are less than flattering on his character, but he ever thought his name could ever sound that good from her lips. She's already pulsing around him from the sudden intrusion but he can't wait to give her time to adjust as much as he wants to.

The feeling of her wrapped around him so tightly. An unhinged feral side to him, as if her can't get deep enough or far enough into her. His hands surely have a bruising grip on her waist but her moans aren't giving away any pain. At least no pain that isn't at least accompanied by equal amounts of pleasure.

Y/n is drown by her orgasm, her body rigid as every nerve ending is hit with an amount of pleasure they leaves her spasming around him. Only Carlos isn't nearly done and he won't allow himself the finish until he feels like y/n is at least half way to gone.

He wants her half way to a lost voice and unaware of her surroundings.

Y/n body begins to try and squeeze her thigh together in an attempt to control herself in some way, only for Carlos' hand to come down, lifting her and forcing them apart, earning a moan as one hand reaches further brushing her clit which sends a shoot of electricity through her. The quickly tightening reaction around his cock only making him push deeper into her. Her voice getting lost as she tries to find some way to ground herself, nails actually poking holes into the upholstery.

She's only halfway recovered from her first orgasm when Carlos sits moving her over to straddle him before practically slamming her down on himself.

"Carlos." Y/n pants the fullness from a new angle whines a hand going up to his thick locks, a slight burn of his scalp from the tugging but it only adds to that lack of control he's maintaining over himself. He really can't help the brutal pace he's setting for both of them.

He actually thinks he could go all night when she cums again, the wetness almost enough to be splashing them both.

By the time he has her on the bed, she's about folded in half and the puffiness of her pussy from his unending appetite is beginning to feel addictive. The position gives him all access to rubbing and pinching her clit while leaning down and kissing, marking and Another orgasm that seems to be bordering on the fine line of pleasure and pain from overstimulation makes her moan in a way that sends him over the edge.

When he cums he feels her absolutely milking it from him before he finally releases her legs still feeling her spasm around him in the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"Ah ah." Y/n winces as Carlos slowly eases out of her.

The sight of his cum leaking out of her is almost enough to get him hard again but he manages to tear his gaze from her pussy up to her face, leaning over her and capturing her in a kiss that she eagerly and needily returns.

Y/n is in a coating of sweat, quite similar to himself.

"Can you get up?" Carlos asks making her wince just at the though.

A very weak nod is managed in answer before she finds herself gently pulled up and very much held tightly as he supports her weight, getting them both into the shower where he cleans her up with a much more soft touch than she'd just been treated with.

-

Neither discussed the matter of their actions, y/n is very much latched onto him as she sleeps. Her hold on him almost impressive.

Carlos sighs playing with her strands of hair as she sleeps against him.

She really is the most innocent and sweet young woman. Although he can't possibly erase the image of her only hours ago. Her whole body is washed of the physical memory, unless you count the bruises from his hands. Was he really holding her that tightly?

His alarm went off a few minutes ago, but pulling himself away from the very much unconscious young woman is proving to be harder than he expected. Eventually he manages it with some detangling of her limbs and replacing himself with his pillows.

She stirs but not enough to wake and he showers quickly before dressing. He can't even stop himself from leaning over and stealing a kiss before going to leave, only...for an idea to pop into his mind. An evil one but an idea nonetheless.

Taking y/n's hotel card and putting her clothes under the mattress of the second bed. He wants her to be left with no options to be spotted.

-

Stealing joggers and being left with only an option of Ferrari branded clothes, y/n is hiccuping in a meltdown of tears and with her phone left in Lewis' room to make sure he couldn't find her. She's at a loss of things she can do.

Y/n pulls the hood up and uses stolen sunglasses to hide her face as much as possible but Charles of everyone spots and recognises her.

"Y/n! Where have you-"

Y/n's hand slaps over his mouth with a hissing shush ass he pushes him back between two units.

"Where is Lewis?" Y/n whispers making Charles look at her. "Oh for-Where's Carlos?"

"Why do you want-oh." Charles winces as he connections the dots of the silent question he'd wanted to ask about her choice of CS55 mercy. "Y/n..."

"Charles please. I just-I need to dodge Lewis and find Carlos." Y/n hiccups making him sigh. He really does not want to be involved in any drama between his present and future teammates, but y/n's desperation is pulling on his heart strings.

"Carlos is in the unit. Come with me." Charles nods offering his hand and pulling her quickly while she continues to try and hang herself.

He's takes her to Carlos' room where the other Ferrari driver is working out.

"You have a guest, I found her running through the paddock." Charles states catching attention from the Spaniard who stands up smiling at y/n with not apology in his expression. "I do not want to be involved."

"Amor, you look quite a sight." Carlos chuckles pulling the sunglasses off of her while Charles makes his exits after his very clear statement.

"Carlos, what-what we did-Lewis is going to be so upset."

"I see...you want to stay with him." Carlos sighs sadly, withdrawing from holding her making her lip tremble. "I will find you something to wear. He has been looking for you, asking everyone to be on the look out for you. You should speak with him."

"No-I-" Y/n chokes out, her panic in her voice very evident. Emotions overwhelming her but Carlos helps her out of the Ferrari hoodie and into an all white one.

"You should go. Lewis wants to see you and know you're ok."

"Carlos, please." Y/n sniffles trying to reach for him but he catches her hand between both of her own and gently pushes it back.

"See him. If last night is all I get with you, I understand and I respect that." Carlos states making her look at him for a moment before she rubs her eyes with the sleeves. "You can keep the joggers and hoodie."

There's hurt, he's hurting her but really he knows she'll be back. Not because of the sex but because he can see she's caught feelings for him even when she knows she should love someone else. At some point, and most likely soon it will come to a point that she can't keep lying to herself or to Lewis.

-

Lewis somehow bought the story that y/n had gone sleep walking and been found by another hotel goer who took her in for the night. A sweet old lady who'd apparently had a few drinks and was feeling charitable. Though she couldn't look Charles in the eye again since the only time she did while it being obvious that she'd gone back to Lewis and lied, he was not impressed with her for it.

Carlos however, she's even been caught in 4k looking at him longingly with tearful eyes.

Lewis has noticed things have been off with y/n, but it's only triggered jealousy from him. More possessiveness and a constant hovering over her. Thankfully when she lied about being on her period to try and dodge sex so he didn't spot the bruises from her night with Carlos, he didn't even question it.

It's almost amusing for Carlos to watch knowing that he's the threat and yet Lewis is under the false understanding that there is still no hard feelings between them.

Y/n sighs as she dips a carrot into some humous, watching Lewis and Roscoe on his sofa as Lewis looks at something on his phone the breaking point hits.

"I cheated on you." Y/n states breaking the silence which had otherwise been filled by Roscoe's heavy breathing.

"You what?" Lewis laughs not even believing that someone could cheat on him.

"I'm sorry...I tried to lie-I did lie. I've lied and I'm so sorry. But I can't keep doing this." Y/n mumbles shaking her head as tears well up. "I should've told you the truth from the moment it happened."

"When did it happen?"

"When...I went missing...I didn't sleep walk, I waited till you were asleep and I left."

Lewis just looks at her clearly visibly shocked.

"So what do you want?" Lewis questions making her look at him for a moment. "You want to leave."

"I'm sorry Lewis..."

"You should go then." Lewis states which makes her swallow thickly. "Do you need me to arrange a flight?"

"No. I'll handle it. I'll figure out a way to come get my stuff at some point too."

-

Lewis is far too old to be making public statements about a break up. He doesn't think his personal life is anything to do with the fans or public anyway.

Y/n disappeared anyway, and honestly it was hard seeing all her stuff laying around apartment while he waits for it to eventually disappear.

"I don't know if it's a good idea." Y/n mumbles as she sits in Carlos' house that is far from Monaco but instead near Madrid instead.

"I want you at the next race. I want you there. Who cares what other people have to say about it?" Carlos frowns then cupping her face. "I'm happy to finally have you for myself, amor. I want you with me always."

"But how will I look?"

"People hated you dating Lewis, people will hate you for not dating him." Carlos shrugs making her sigh and roll her eyes only to squeak when he smacks her ass. "Do not roll your eyes at me with that attitude. I only want to see them rolling when I'm between your legs, yes?"

"Carlos." Y/n gasps, the vulgarity of his words certainly shocking her.

"I mean it."

-

Carlos arriving with y/n immediately earned attention and Lando wasted 0.1 of a second just so he could get himself over to the two and shake his head.

"You are a bad man, Carlos." Lando laughs shaking his head before he smiles at y/n. "Hey, y/n."

"Hi, Lando." Y/n smiles nervously, as always trying to be polite but her grip on Carlos' hand is actually almost tight enough to be hurting him which is actually a little impressive.

"Alright, man we have to go but I will see you later." Carlos smiles since Lando wasn't the British man whose name begins with an L that he was really aiming to gain the attention of.

"We'll have to catch up later." Lando hums moving away looking very much amused and like he's about to go gossip with as many drivers will listen.

"Stop being so stressed." Carlos assures the young woman.

"Sorry...I am happy to be here with you. I swear." Y/n smiles making him hum managing to spin her before pulling her back against himself finally earning a laugh.

"Whatever I have to do to earn your smile. I will do it. Sí?"

"Sí." Y/n confirms before giggling then kissing him smiling when he shameless grabs her ass and when he opens his eyes feeling a burning gaze on then his teeth even nip at her bottom lip as he pulls away.

Lewis' dark eyes show are filled with a mixture of anger and hurt. A toxic combination. Carlos will have to be careful on track but somehow he can't find himself feeling guilty about it.

"Let's get go." Carlos smiles making her grin at him. None the wiser to their onlooker. "Come on."

-

"You stole his girlfriend." Lando sighs shaking his head as they walk to the truck for the driver's parade. "I can't believe it."

"I didn't steal anyone's anything. She chose me." Carlos shrugs then smirking. "These things happen and like he says, there's no hard feelings. It's not personal."

Lando just laughs shaking his head.

"She is a very sweet woman. Everyone knows they were wrong for each other."

"But she's right for you?"

"Well she certainly agrees with that and I want her more than he did."

And he did want her more, he wanted her whole being and he'll make sure that every single day for the rest of his life, he keeps her just to make sure Lewis can never have her again. Not that he thinks y/n could find it in herself to make such a walk of shame back to Lewis if the relationship did end.

Thankfully she seems to have gotten over her worries and guilt thanks to Carlos' constant effort to make sure she is too focused on him to give a fuck about anyone else.

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #dark!carlos sainz #dark carlos saint #dark!f1 #dark!fic #dark f1 #dark f1 fic #dark fic #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz imagine #cs55 x reader #cs55 imagine #cs55 #cs55 fic #cs55 x you #cs55 smut #f1 smut #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #ferrari #forza ferrari #f1 fic

[calicoheartz]

“Baby I” - Paige Bueckers♡

summary : jealous Paige Bueckers x reader !

wc ; 897

synopsis : inspired by the song “baby i” by Ariana Grande :) Paige’s jealousy often gets in the way of your relationship, so what happens when you interact with a particularly attractive stranger?

warning : angst , suggestive content , jealousy / possessiveness

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : look at me having a posting streak !! decided to try something new today, so I hope yall enjoy ◡̈

You and Paige had been dating for not too long, but your relationship had certainly developed into one where strong feelings and emotions played a huge factor in your everyday lives.

It was no secret to you that Paige was jealous, envious even; it caused you a fair share of problems throughout your relationship. Whether it was through jealous ridden comments, or snarky remarks, it was slowly starting to take a toll on you.

You and Paige were invited to go bar hopping with the team, as a celebration of the victorious win for Uconn. The free spirited and ambient environment encouraged you to let loose, encouraging you to not only grab a drink from the bar, but to strike up a couple of conversations with individuals around you.

It’s not that Paige didn’t want you to talk to other people, it’s just that when it comes to you; she’s very, how do I word this.. Overbearing? Whether it was constantly having her hands glued to your waist, peppering your face with kisses, or shooting bitter looks and whoever even dares to be just a little too friendly.

On this particular night, a very attractive character to say the least, approached you; beginning to start a simple conversation. Asking things like your name, complimenting your outfit, and overall trying to learn more about you

From across the room, you can see the blonde staring intensely at you, giving you a disapproving look; signaling you to end the conversation. You furrowed your brows and gave her a confused look back, not understanding how the conversation was moving south in any way.

You quickly turned back around, further continuing your conversation with the stranger, when all of a sudden you feel a harsh tug on your wrist. “It was nice meeting you, but we have to go.” And just like that, there you were, being dragged out of the bar by your girlfriend. Who seemed incredibly pissed.

The drive back home was unbearable, no words were exchanged between you two. The blonde never acknowledging you on your journey back home, knuckles white due to her intense grip on the steering wheel. You couldn’t tell if she was upset, disappointed, horny, or a mix of all 3.

As soon as you reached your apartment, your nerves were eating you alive. You had no idea what was waiting for you once you reached your apartment door.

You quickly hurried inside, and situated yourself on your shared couch. Waiting for her to say something. You felt your heart pounding, unable to even form coherent words. When you realized the endless silence, you simply muttered out a “I’m..sorry?.” Paige rolled her eyes at you, scoffing in the process. “YOU’RE sorry? They were practically throwing themselves at you and all you did was stand there and let them.” You were shocked, you knew Paige could take things the wrong way, but you never imagined her of all people would think you would be the type to do that.

“Paige…” you started. “You know I love you more than anything, but you know words can’t even touch what’s in my heart,” you continued. Your eyes now spilling out tears you tried your hardest to keep in.

“Then why don’t you ever tell me?”... “I feel like I’m constantly competing with others for your attention” This statement startled you, as you knew Paige was well aware of your difficulty to express yourself, let alone reassure others. Fuck. Oh how badly you wished the floor underneath you would simply collapse, giving you any sort of escape from the high tensioned conversation.

You felt as if you were to speak, your throat would simply close up. You managed to croak out.. “It’s just when I try to explain it, I be sounding insane. Sometimes it feels like the words don’t ever come out right.” She looks at you, her gaze softening a bit; as a reaction to your sudden vulnerability.

“It’s just I don’t know…the words just never come out right when it comes to you. You make me get all tongue tied and twisted, and I literally cannot explain what I’m feeling.” “Baby-” “No.” - you cut her off. Quickly feeling a rush of adrenaline run through you. “Yes, I should’ve been more clear and work on my communication, but you need to realize that not everyone is trying to sabotage our relationship. It’s exhausting. I can’t keep isolating myself due to your jealous fits of rage.”

Paige looks at you, tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill out if she even mumbles out a word. She muttered a quiet “im sorry…”, her voice cracking at the last word, her eyes glued to the floor as she anticipated your response.

As if she were a magnet, you run towards her and wrap your arms around her tall frame, gently rubbing circles into your back as sobs slowly escape her lips. This entire thing had been a complete misunderstanding, and her jealousy blinded her judgment. Through her weeps you were able to make out “i love you. All i was trying to say is that youre my everything and-”

She wasnt even able to finish her sentence as she felt your warm lips on hers, entangling her in a deep and loving kiss. “If that doesnt show you that i love you, i dont know what will”

not sure how to feel about this tbh, originally i was gonna give this a sad ending but since the song is a love song, it didn’t feel fitting. Lmk ur thoughts !! Thanks for reading ◡̈

#Spotify #wlw #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wcbb x reader #wcbb #wlw imagine #wlw post #ariana grande #arianator

[ghouljams]

The only foil Gaz has in his little scheme of fucking his pretty clients? Rich business man Price and his pretty wife. Prices’ wife? The most oblivious bimbo he’d ever met. He wants to nail her *so* bad but, she doesn’t pick up on his ‘double meanings’ or anything! She just paid his estimate outright, (full price! The jacked up price!!! wtf?)

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at manual labor!!! I’d probably knock down the building, lol!” And prances off. She dresses like a tease, tiny skirts, tight shirts, heels, nice hair, pretty makeup.

She’s got daddy Price paying for her and Price finds deep, endless amusement in Gaz going crazy trying to get her to understand what type of ‘manual labor’ he’s talking about. Every time Gaz tries to flat out tell her he wants to f- Price walks by, blue balling Gaz because he can’t proposition his clients wife right in front of him!!! Gaz gets blue balled *again.*

And Price keeps hiring him too! He has the money, so why not? Gaz really amuses him, it turns him on to have someone chasing after his pretty wife *so* bad, and imagine how great it will be when Price finally lets Gaz have her?

Maybe they can have Gaz over for just sex without the fake excuse of ‘building’ or ‘remodeling’

(Bonus: if Price overhears Gaz’s double entendres, he comes in bends over the marble counter like ‘oooooh, this is how I get the discount, I can do that’ because he thinks Blue collar Gaz is hot too, why does his wife get to be the only one nailed over their new counter? And his wife is like ‘oh- oooooh! OOOOOOH!’ Sparkles in her eyes ‘now’ she get’s it!!! Well why didn’t he just *say* so!!! And drops to her knees. Yeah, They all take the new marble counter for a spin.)

The problem... the problem...

The problem is I want Gaz to fuck that old man over the marble counter now. Gaz plays for both teams, if he can't get the bimbo wife, he'll take the hot older husband. Price wants to bend over the counter, Gaz'll press his hand firm between Price's shoulders and his hips firm against his ass. A little surprising for Price, he was joking(sort of) because that's the fun of it. His wife isn't getting it but he is, and it should be a good haha laugh it off moment of "I know what you've been doing." But Gaz presses his weight down against Price and tells him he'll do just as well.

"Can probably take it better than the bird, isn't that right sir?" He murmurs, his cock already starting to stiffen against Price.

The ideal end to this scenario is Gaz fucking Price over that shiny new counter, Price's eyes rolling back as he grunts out moans and Gaz bites his shoulder, pretty wife sat on her knees behind Gaz licking his balls and occasionally dipping back to eat his ass. Both of them really should be thanking him for doing so much work on their house, and for teasing him so long. He wants Price white knuckling the counter, shooting his load all over his wife's tits as she tongues Gaz's ass. He'll fill Price and then move on to the bird.

"When's the last time someone took care of you properly," Gaz asks Price, leaning back to spread Price's cheeks apart, watching his cock getting swallowed greedily with each thrust. Price mumbles out some answer, well before he was married, and sorely missed. Gaz hums with a smile, "Might have to start staying late then, make sure you're satisfied with my services."

Don't think Gaz isn't eager to get the wife over the counter too. Stripping the condom off his thick cock when he's done with Price and lifting the giggly wife off her knees to fuck her raw. Normally he's safer about this sort of thing, never know where a housewife has been, but he doubts she's smart enough to be sleeping around. So he bounces her on his cock until she's shaking and clinging to him, stifling moans by biting his shoulder. He'll leave her dripping come so Price can eat it out of her.

"You know," Gaz tells them, gathering his things, "You really could do with a couple French doors out to the garden."

"When can you start?" Price asks.

"How's tomorrow work?" Gaz grins.

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz modern warfare #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #gaz garrick #captain price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #gaz x price #cod x reader #x reader #f!reader #blue collar au #i dont know what happened there #I want that old man moaning

[disneyprincemuke]

sick little games * op81

neither you nor oscar can believe the predicament you’ve found yourselves in.

pairings: oscar piastri x female!reader

word count: 1.4k

(f1 masterlist) | (series masterlist)

(prev)

you’d left the restaurant immediately after the newscaster finished talking. you’d lost your appetite after finding out that the man you’d hit on was possibly a ghost. you simply ordered a sandwich to go — frankly because you’re honestly still quite hungry — paid and then left to head back to your apartment.

oscar trailed behind you all the way back, not another word uttered between you.

on your way back, it started to make sense for you. when you first bumped into him, the confused stares weren’t from you stopping in the middle of the crowd, but from the fact that you were talking to yourself. and even then, the waitress’s hostility and confusion should have been the nail in the coffin.

you hadn’t even questioned the way that she only brought you 1 glass of water instead of 2.

you open the door to your apartment and turn around after stepping in, oscar still standing in the hallway with his hands clasped in front of him. you raise your eyebrows. “what are you doing? come in.”

“really?” oscar asks in shock. “i mean, you don’t have to invite me inside… like, i’m a stranger.”

“what?” you scowl in disbelief. “you’re a literal ghost — what are you going to do, murder me?”

he blinks at you. “too soon.”

“just come in so nobody else thinks i’m going insane talking to myself,” you scoff, beckoning him inside. “stop the whining.”

you close the door when he steps into your apartment. you almost want to giggle at yourself for holding the door open for a ghost and waiting for him to walk in. but you swallow the giggle you feel bubbling because you can only imagine how difficult it is especially for oscar.

oscar lingers next to you as you take off your shoes, looking down at his feet. “do you think i can take my shoes off?”

“i don’t know,” you glance over your shoulder and watch him seriously ponder at the thought, “you’re the ghost — try it.”

he blinks, “you don’t think i’d dirty your apartment floor if i keep them on, right?”

you tilt your head and sigh. you stand up straighter and turn to face him. “but didn’t we bump into each other? means if i reach out right now,” you hold your arm out and hover it over oscar’s shoulder, “i would hit you.”

“i guess?” oscar scrunches his face and looks down at your hand. “hit me.”

you hesitate for a moment. can he even feel pain? so you reach forward with all intentions of hitting him and even wound your arm back slightly to do some damage.

a soft shriek emits from you when you stumble forward and your fingertips jab into the wall supposedly behind him. “what?” you squeak, quickly stabilising yourself in disbelief. “i swear i bumped into you when we met!”

“you did!” oscar says with a sigh, throwing his head back. “i don’t get it!” he darts his hand out to grab your wrist, eyes widening when his hand passes through you. he gasps, “why does it do that? i swear i bumped into you earlier!”

“i don’t know! you’re the ghost!” you shriek, now walking further into your apartment. “you’re asking me like i’ve got a degree in parapsychology!”

oscar tilts his head as follows you in. “para-what?”

“study of paranormal activity!” you sigh. “my sister used to be obsessed with this type of stuff before our parents got separated and moved to different ends of the country. she’s a very investigative person.”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t… i’m sorry about your parents,” oscar shrugs, frowning slightly. he watches you take a seat on your couch and throw your sandwich next to you. “and your sister. i’ve got 3 of my own back in australia and i grew up in the uk.”

you suck in a deep breath and sink into the couch. you realise you’re not entirely in the position to be freaking out as much as you are. you have to give it to oscar for staying calm in the past hour. you know that if you were in his position, you would not have taken it as well. in fact, you think you might even go crazy if you woke up one day with little to no recollection of events as a ghost.

and to find out from some random news clip to a restaurant with someone you've never met?

“i’m sorry. that must’ve been really hard on you,” you sigh, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. “how do you feel? about everything?” you turn your head and realise that he is still standing and hovering by your couch. “why don’t you sit down?”

“it’s not my house — i don’t want to feel too at home as a guest,” oscar shrugs simply. he points at the empty spot next to you for permission. you nod and move the paper bag to the ground by your feet and he laughs as he takes a seat. “i doubt i’d deform your sandwich if i sat on it, by the way.”

“it’s on and off again. this sandwich is my overdue lunch and i’m not taking any chances,” you snort with a small grin. “this must be a little overwhelming for you.”

he shrugs and leans back. “it is. i don’t even remember waking up today, i’d just regained consciousness walking down the street before i bumped into you. it was like a video game — spawned out of nowhere.”

“this game is not going to be fun, by the looks of it,” you mutter, earning yourself a soft chuckle from oscar. “you can stay here until…”

“i’m not a ghost anymore?” he prompts.

“technically not a ghost 'cause you’re not…” you’re trying to choose your words carefully. you don’t want to trigger anything if you don’t know him that well just yet. “you know.”

“dead,” he points out firmly with a finger pointed at you. “let’s be realistic — i could be a ghost. i don’t even know how critical my condition is.”

you press your lips together and drop your gaze to the ground. you mirror his position on the couch and lean back with a sigh. “we should really stop talking about it, don’t you think?” you whisper hopefully.

he shakes his head. “i need to know what happened to me and who did this to me,” he sighs, shaking his head slightly. “maybe they got it wrong. maybe it was a driver error that caused my crash.”

“oscar…”

insistent, he continues to shake his head. “they wouldn’t do this to me,” he says softly with a frown, “i refuse to believe it. there’s no reason to!” oscar turns his head and meets your eyes. he sighs. “what do you think?”

you shrug. “i don’t know any of these people you’re talking about,” you say softly with a smile. “but i’ll help you, i promise.”

gen taglist: @33-81 @happy-nico @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @localwhoore @namgification @c-losur3

taglist: @lipringlrh @mess-is-my-aesthetic @vicurious28 @imsiriuslyreal @fionaschicken @pastryboyyy @spookystitchery @topgunmav1df1 @nixisracing @honethatty12 @bloodyymaryyy

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke 6futs

[sea-lanterns]

loser nerd navia who tutors you but you end up riding her dick at her house <3

LOSER NERD NAVIA—

AAAAAAAAAA I’m just imagining her with these cute, round glasses that are nearly falling off her face as you ride her dick like a motorcycle. Realistically, I know Navia would be a popular girl, but just for this thirst, let’s say Navia is a cute lil nerd that’s tutoring you and you’re the popular girl in this AU.

Nerd! Navia who is whimpering and blushing so much, as she didn’t expect the hot popular girl to tug down her skirt and give her a quick blowjob in the middle of their study session. Shes so overwhelmed yet excited. Just a few quick licks is enough to get her excited and dripping beads of precum, good enough for you to hop on top of her and give her the best ride of her life since Navia was a virgin who rarely went to parties…

Nerd! Navia is so cute, face flushed and glasses knocked over when you grab her face and plant the sweetest kiss on her lips, causing her to nearly fall off the couch. Your kiss, combined with the fact your sweet pussy was currently bouncing up and down on her cock, swallowing her in with each hop has Navia rolling her eyes back in pleasure. This type of situation only rlly happened in pornos and movies Navia thought, but she really shouldn’t complain because she had such a hot girl on top of her and peppering her face in lipstick 💕

Nerd! Navia definitely can’t focus on your study session anymore now that her dick was all red and needy. Yet here you were, giggling and innocently going back to your homework after your quickie while Nerd! Navia is left trying to conceal her stiffie under her already dampening skirt.

She’s definitely inviting you over to study at her house more often. She thinks she should teach you “biology” next <3

#🫧feeding the fishes #vrachis #navia smut

[radioisntdead]

Too sweet

Alastor x gn reader,

Warnings!!

Mild ooc, reader is dessert themed also kinda imagining they have eyes that resemble 1930's animation but that's just me, casual backstory drop in the middle that's just never brought up again, death, pacing is a little off, Alastor is prepared with angelic steel this time! It does not help whatsoever!

Song: Too sweet

It wasn't a secret that Alastor strongly disliked sweet things, it wasn't a complete hatred but he wouldn't willingly eat any, he preferred bitter things.

It can't be said I'm an early bird

You were as sweet as pure sugar, with that oh so charming smile of yours, your big ol' cartoony eyes, eccentric and positive attitude, not to mention you were quite literally dessert themed, Cake themed outfits, frosted purses, phone case adorned with spackled frosting, sprinkles and charms.

It's ten o'clock before I say a word

You were the most recent addition to the hotel, a few of the hotel's residents didn't quite understand how someone as sweet as you could've ended up in hell, it was theorized that maybe it was an act, a honey coated trap that would lead to the hotel demise or something.

Baby, I can never tell

That was thrown out rather quickly when you kept the same sweetheart persona even when alone, it was just how you were.

How do you sleep so well?

It was concerning to a certain few hotel residents when it was discovered that you had a thing for the Radio demon,

The way your eyes would linger on him for a moment too long, the way you would gaze at him love evident in your eyes.

You keep telling me to live right

Husk gave you a warning one night at the bar, you were sipping on a drink that had more sugar then any drink should, he was cleaning up the bar.

"Look kid, Alastor is a bad decision, this won't end well for you."

"I know." You had responded, twirling around that sickly sweet drink of yours

You weren't naive like your personality seemed to make people think, you knew Alastor was a bad idea, bad news, he was a cannibalistic murderer for heaven's sake!

To go to bed before the daylight

But it was alright to have a small crush that you wouldn't act on, it'd pass eventually but for now it wasn't bad to fantasize about dancing with him, cooking together or about doing something unholy like handholding! Nothing would become of it, you didn't have a good history with relationships anyways.

But then you wake up for the sunrise

Charlie was supportive of your little crush, she had found out about it after accidentally overhearing you drunkenly tell Angel Dust about it, that sugary little drink really did a number on you.

She decided she would try to push you and Alastor together, gently, She was such a great wingman!

After all Alastor tolerated you more than anyone else in the hotel so that's a indication that you might have a chance right? A truly slim one but a chance nonetheless!

You know you don't gotta pretend, baby, now and then

When Alastor began enjoying your company a little too much for his liking it was like he, from his prospective had been thrown into a horror movie and trapped with little to no way out.

He enjoyed some of your antics and reactions.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?

You were helpful around the hotel, helping out with advertising, you'd proofread scripts he had written for his radio broadcast, every time you went out for a treat you brought back some type of pastry or snack for the hotel residents, in particular you'd travel all the way to cannibal town to pick up something for Alastor, you didn't have too, but you did.

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

As time went on the feelings didn't fade, especially since Charlie heavily suggested that the two of you should work together on hotel related things, and that pinwheeled into the two of you spending more time together, getting closer, and eventually you began to avoid Alastor, you had a tendency to ditch the people you were fond of in a way usually in a cruel fashion, you didn't mean too, truly! But you did and you didn't want to risk it with Alastor for his sake and yours.

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

You were a known partier back in your day, you died back in the heights of the roaring twenties where you had the money and privileges to go to lavish parties where anyone who was anyone could attend much like the parties Gatsby held in the great Gatsby, you lived what some folks thought the roaring twenties were all about, Flappers, speakeasies, parties and short-lived prosperity.

You were in your twenties, rebellious and reckless, drinking any drink given to you, playing around with people's emotions with those sickly sweet words of yours, taking whatever substance you were given, and a year before the stock market crash, you were found dead on the dancefloor poisoned by a former darling of yours who didn't like that you had left them because things were getting 'too serious' for you.

You didn't handle death well, and in order to keep at least some of your sanity you went to hurling yourself onto the hellish party scene, frequenting speakeasies, trying to keep some sense of what you knew, repeating harmful cycles, but you couldn't do it forever.

And so you gave up the party scene around the mid 40's, burning bridges and leaving behind many scorned people behind.

You were more unstable back then, but you had improved, at least you thought you did taking up the sweet attitude by a couple notches, switching from drinking alcohol each day to drinking sweet smoothies or milkshakes.

You cleaned up your act and you were continuing to keep it clean especially as you checked into the hotel.

No one there knew about your track record and you would like to keep it that way.

But while in this world

The avoidance didn't last long since Alastor cornered you asking why and you blabbered out your feelings in one big ramble.

And that was that.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

Charlie was ecstatic to learn that you and Alastor had gotten together, Others were concerned particularly Husk, his bets were that either Alastor would end up owning your soul, you'd become just as twisted as Al or you'd end up dead.

None of them would end well for you.

My coffee black and my bed at three

The two of you were opposites, while he took his coffee black and bitter you loaded yours up with milk, sugar and whatever other toppings you wished, when he stayed awake for multiple days in end you snoozed away at night, when he was threatening someone who was messing with the hotel you were trying to defuse the situation with sweet words.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor didn't like sweet things, but he didn't mind you and your sugary sweetness, infact you could say he was growing a little bit of a sweet tooth.

Just the sight of your sweet little smile was enough to cause a slight ache in his heart and that fact that you could be called his now was just wonderful!

You're too sweet for me

He could see himself getting used to all this sweetness, he just needed to make sure no one knew that.

I take my whiskey neat

You smiled, listening intently and sipping on your sweet alcoholic drink while Alastor recounted an encounter he had, a glass of whiskey in his hand whooshing around as he spoke.

My coffee black and my bed at three

It was after a hotel game night mixed with alcohol, the two of you were tired and intoxicated, you were a giggly drunk, laughing at the most mundane things, Alastor was escorting you to your room and much to his surprise it was a challenge as you would stop every few steps to laugh at how the crack in the wall looked like a giraffe or how that stain on the carpet looked like a birthday cake!

You're too sweet for me

By the time he had finally gotten you to your room he was exhausted, you kicked off your shoes leaving them on your floor as you dived into your bed, reveling in the comfortable blankets.

Alastor rolled his eyes as he entered your room leaning down to pick up your discarded shoes to properly put them away in your woredrob, he intended to leave to his own room but you reached out your arms to him making grabby hands, he walked over and leaned in to see what you wanted only for you to suddenly grab him, pulling him down and covering him in the blankets before promptly passing out with your arm wrapped around one of his.

You're too sweet for me

He was going to get up, he truly was but he hadn't slept in hell knows how many days now, and the bed was warm, before he knew it his eyelids were drooped. His shadow thankfully decided to close the door to your room.

I aim low, I aim true and the ground's where I go

The next morning he was greeted by you humming while gently petting his fluffy ears, he wasn't sure you knew he was awake at that point, but he rather liked having his ears petted, at least by you and it wouldn't hurt to savor this moment for just a few more minutes before the two of you would have to deal with the duties that the day held for you.

I work late where I'm free from the phone, and the job gets done

Alastor preferred to have his radio broadcast aired in the morning but sometimes he wouldn't get the chance too, [Maybe he indulged a little too much in his morning time with you]

He would air around eight pm and sometimes you would hang around his tower, doing whatever activity you had brought along until he was done and the two of you would walk back to the hotel, maybe grabbing a bite to eat.

But you worry some, I know

Other nights you would turn on the radio in his room and curl up in a blanket on the leather chair he had, closing your eyes and listening to his oddly soothing voice.

But who wants to live forever, babe?

Alastor didn't particularly believe that heavens gates would accept sinners even if they were redeemed, but nothing is impossible and he, although he doubted it, could be wrong and the Hazbin hotel could be a success in redeeming sinners left and right and you were one of the residents checked in for redemption.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate

Alastor moved a piece of your hair away from your face, careful not to disturb your sleeping position on his chair, he could admit to himself that he had gotten attached to you, and he couldn't just have his darling little partner leave him behind to fraternize with the winners above now could he?

The rest of you like you're the TSA

He picked you up from the chair and moved you over to his bed, tucking you in.

If anyone in this damned place could get redeemed it was you.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong

And Alastor, well he wasn't the type to be looking for redemption or redeemed, he was even less of the type to blindly follow someone somewhere even if it was you.

He did wish he could see his mother who obviously was in heaven but that simply just wasn't in the cards for him, it was tragic but he did murder people, he died while burying a body after all!

You know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Alastor cut into the dead deer he had just sat on his table, he was about to take a bite when he caught a glimpse of you shooting up from his bed looking around in hasty panic before you visibly calmed at the sight of him, with one of your signature surgery sweet smiles that caused swirls in his heart you bid him a good morning.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

Alastor strolled into the hotel after a day of errands, only to see everyone cluttered together looking at something you were holding that he couldn't see, you noticed him and waved him over, grinning as you held the red creature in your arms that looked strikingly like Alastor, you went on a small tangent about how you had found the little guy while taking a stroll around the hotel.

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait

In all honesty he wanted to hurl the creature out the window but you were stubborn in saying that the two of you should keep the catlike creature immediately dubbing it as your son much to Alastor's displeasure.

Until that day

He and the little creature begun a little rivalry, whenever he had his arm around you that thing would try and headbutt it off.

On the plus side you had taken to dressing the little one up in ridiculous little outfits, usually to match you or Alastor, from dessert themed outfits to Alastor's signature suit.

The creature did not like being dressed the majority of the time as the little thing felt it was taken less seriously thanks to the outfits.

It was right, when the little one would strut around the hotel he was usually awe'd over by Charlie and Sir Pentious.

I'd rather take my whiskey neat

Time flew by as extermination day drew closer, preparing became the focus in the hotel, coating weapons in angelic steel, in particular you had a axe that you covered with dessert themed charms finding it funny, because imagine getting taken out with a dessert themed axe of all things!

My coffee black and my bed at three

You had just barely convinced Alastor to prepare to use an angelic weapon, borderline begging him to do so, you didn't know what you'd do if he got taken out or injured because he was too prideful and foolish to use angelic steel in some way.

You're too sweet for me

He just couldn't say no to you when you looked at him with those cartoonish eyes that reminded him of 1930's animation and surgery sweet smile!

You're too sweet for me

It was the night before extermination, everyone was ready, living this night as if they were going to die tomorrow, which they probably will but they had something to fight for! You indulged on the classic surgery sweet drink that you always got, sipping on it as Niffty declared Alastor king roach leading to you chuckling.

I take my whiskey neat

It was the time where everyone retired, laying in bed you gently brushed a hand through his awful haircut, the two of you chatted about what could happen tomorrow and what the two of you would do afterwards because obviously the two of you didn't intend on dying.

You let out a yawn, deciding to call it a night you gave Alastor a light peck before laying your head on your pillow.

My coffee black and my bed at three

Alastor channeled his inner Edward Cullen and watched you sleep, blanket curled around you, that little creature was snoozing by you, dressed in a onesie that you had obviously put on him.

He didn't say it often, or at all honesty but he adored you, the only sweet thing he would willingly indulge in.

He would do anything to protect you, you would survive the extermination, he would make sure of it.

You're too sweet for me

He, infact did not make sure of it.

It was during his little encounter with Adam, the first man had gone to attack him but you had ran in, taking the hit for Alastor.

Resulting in a large gash in your stomach, blood pooled around you as Alastor got a few hits on Adam before turning to you, clutching your body as shadows overtook the two of you, taking you to his radio tower.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor scrambled, his usual composed self gone as you were actively bleeding out, he tried to stop the bleeding but you had already lost too much.

I take my whiskey neat

He held you as he demanded to know why the hell you would jump Infront of him.

You simply smiled, lifting your hand to touch his face, you said three simple words that would be your last, the last thing you saw was Alastor's strained smile.

My coffee black and my bed at three

Husk was right, it would end one of three ways, either Alastor ended up with your soul, you became just as twisted or you died.

And many died that day, the hazbin hotel lost two of its residents, Sir Pentious and you.

Sir Pentious had died for his friends and you had died for the person you loved, sacrifices that landed the two of you into heaven.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor sat in his newly built radio tower, that damned creature that you had brought by his side.

He had managed to survive the hotel collapsing, good for him, unfortunately the person that brought him there didn't survive, and now he was stuck with Alastor, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing anymore.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor despised sweet things, they were filled with sickly sweet sugar that would leave cavities behind in it's wake, even after being brushed away it would still leave some damage like you did, you left him like you had left others before only this time it was unwillingly, you were the sweetest thing he'd ever known, he made a unfortunately decision to get attached to you and now he paid the consequences, he would be unintentionally haunted by you, reminded of you every time he saw the portrait they hung of you in the hotel along with Sir Pentious or even with the cat that looked like him.

He wouldn't be making the mistake of falling for someone again that was for sure.

It's not like he could if he wanted to anyways.

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed this! I wrote it all in one day, I didn't write it because I got tired but the reader is totally fighting people to go back to Alastor, just "I JUST DIED AFTER TELLING HIM I LOVED HIM, THAT IS TRAUMATIZING"

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader

[cinnamonest]

sometimes i think about your posts about the yans who would go for a more insecure darling, and i think about how certain yans would be with a very vain girl; obsessed with her looks, herself, etc. and a very big ego. like, imagine getting her pregnant, and the main reason she’s upset is because she thinks the physical changes that happen during pregnancy will make her ugly.

It would be so much more ironic for darling of certain boys (namely Albedo, Childe, Ayato, or Diluc) though, because like… not only is he not bothered by it, but seeing you so cute and swollen only makes you that much more attractive to him, and yet you don’t listen…

With a vain darling in general, probably the best guys to have would be be Albedo, Venti or Zhongli, because they’re very high-patience and fairly tolerant, while still being socially apt enough to understand your insecurities and concerns/feelings in general, and good enough with words to quell any tantrums and put your worries to rest, not to mention complimenting you to hopefully keep you placated (or, knowing the bastard, occasionally pull a backhanded compliment or subtle line to make you more insecure and manipulate you when it benefits him, so he can then reverse it with reassurance and make you more malleable).

And while it’s comforting to consider who would be a good match, it is far funnier to consider who would be a horrible match in the best way possible. I raise you either:

1) The “doesn’t understand but is trying his best” types like Xiao, Razor or Chongyun — who does not understand why you’re so concerned with this, but he tries his best to reassure you… except he puts his foot in his mouth quite a bit because the comments sometimes come out sounding a bit different than his intentions. Lines such as ‘it doesn’t matter how you look, I like you’ which then has him wide-eyed shrinking back when you start wailing that that means he thinks you look terrible. Or, ‘it doesn’t matter if everyone else thinks that,’ to which he gets confused as to why you start crying because that means he believes everyone does think that… you are very confusing to him and it’s starting to hurt his head, poor thing.

2) The “well-meaning but blunt and dense as hell” Diluc and Alhaitham cases who would not merely put his foot in his mouth, but digs his own grave every time he tries to help. He gets that you’re concerned with looks and all that, but he’s not gonna lie to you or be gentle with your feelings, why would he do that? He’s going to be honest, because you want to look nice, right? Which leads to conversations such as—

“Does this look good on me? :)”

“No”

#and then he just sighs when you get upset like #'what? it doesn't. what did you want me to say' #'why are you crying now' #he's trying his best to help 😔 #q

[bigfatbimbo]

Saw somebody mentioning Vox meeting his assistant Dom in hell and I’m just imagining him doing some PR event, flashing that million dollar smile and shmoozing when he looks into the crowd and freezes.

It’s not uncommon for people not to recognize those who they knew in life because of how crazy the changes can be (he has a tv head for hell’s sake) but he recognizes that posture and that confident, no-nonsense look. It’s kind of like looking at a fun house mirror version of someone he used to know.

At this point, he’s been dead for a while and enough time has passed to establish himself (maybe the vees are already a thing or maybe he’s on the rise) so he’s already put his past behind him in exchange for the new and trendy. But now he’s having a flashback to firm hands, a stern voice, and late nights in his office. He blue screens a bit and has to laugh it off in front of the interviewers.

After: It makes sense that you’d be in hell, maybe you’ve been here a while without him knowing. He remembers how good you were at your job. In life you were resourceful and ruthless, taking pride in doing the impossible.

If you were working for someone else it could cause serious trouble for his company. You could also be a major asset if hired but…

Hell is a lot more lax than 1950s America but he’s built a very specific image for himself and power is EVERYTHING down here. He thought he had rebuilt himself and put it all behind him but this could risk everything.

He’d be careful this time, keep you at a distance. He could have you as a skilled worker AND keep his pride intact. It’s a big company, you won’t even have to be in the same room. And he’s so much stronger than he used to be. He can keep his image, it won’t happen again and he totally isn’t thinking about it.

Maybe the assistant joins, maybe she doesn’t… or maybe she makes him beg

-Friday

Friday anon you have a way with words oh my god because I love this idea so much. Lowkey you really sold this, you’d be a good writer ☝️🤨

But the way this would throw him through a crazy ass loop. Because he’s probably built himself up in his head, and being an overlord with a, quite literally, inhuman amount of power, he definitely has a new standard for himself.

Because now it’s more than just gender roles and fragile masculinity, it’s an even more fragile god complex. So to think he’s grown out of whatever submissive, borderline weak phase he was in during life isn’t exactly out of the question.

Part of him didn’t want to risk it, but you working for another overlord could cause problems. With his new empire on the rise, he could use an efficient, overachiever type of worker. However, the one thing that would change was the dynamic.

Simply put, there wouldn’t be one. Although he could use your help for his business, an arms length distance would be more than appropriate. After all, being seen as weak in hell could have a more dire effect.

Good thing that wouldn’t be a problem; a strong man in life makes a stronger one in death, after all. So he approaches you after the PR event, trying to act as casual as possible, treating as a ‘Y/n, how longs it been!? Decades?” kind of conversation. Acting as if your relationship was never as intimate as it really was.

Thankfully, you knew to go along with his casual tone, just like he trusted you would. However, you went along with it a little too well. His ‘arms length’ approach was working extraordinarily well, however thanks you to you. His plan was to ignore you in hallways, maybe a small wave at best, and only engage when he specifically had too.

But even then, in closed off hallways in the off chance of seeing each other, his small nod would be greeted with absolute silence. Not even a look in his direction. This has happened a few times, no look, no wave, not even a shoulder bump. Scarily formal.

Were you mad? No, you wouldn’t have wasted time being petty. But if nothing you’ve done has been petty, that means you really just didn’t care. You got your work done, at an incredible pace, as per usual, exceeding all other workers. Your name was known throughout the office and the more business deals you closed for Voxtech, throughout the small business clicks of hell.

But you stayed loyal, not to Vox, but to Voxtech. Did that mean you did care? No, Vox supposed, it meant that just as in life, you liked to finish jobs you started, or at the very least not abruptly switch bases. So does that mean you and Vox’s incredibly hot work affair meant nothing to you?

…Because it didn’t to him either. But there were days he’d catch a glimpse of you in the offices working, and he can’t help but let his mind wonder to those late nights. He’d always put up a fight, but you and your stern tone and firm hands elegantly broke him down, each and every time.

The shame he’d felt at being overpowered and conquered by his female assistant, but his hunger for more lingered on his mind just like your perfume lingered through the rooms you exited.

It’d been years, but seeing as it was the hottest sex in his life and death, he’d remembered the little details; the smell of your hair, your hands, the dominance in your voice, your knowing look, your lips, fuck your hands… and now it’s late and most of everybody else is gone. And Vox makes his way over to your office.

Your door is open, but he still knocks his knuckles against the wood, lingering in the door frame, “Knock, knock.”

You recognize the voice, raise an eyebrow, and to Vox’s dismay, barely glance up your paperwork. Setting your mug on your desk, you adjust yourself on the chair, telling him to “Come in.”

“Y/n,” Vox brushes off a speck of lint off his suit jacket and grins, “Thought I’d check on your work. If i’m correct, you have important paperwork to turn in?”

He hoped he was. In all honesty, he didn’t pay much attention to the employees specific jobs unless it purposely inconvenienced or benefited him. Otherwise, he didn’t check what various paperwork was delivered or checked by who.

You smile, “Just finishing up, easy stuff. It’ll be a breeze for you, just a few signatures.”

Setting your papers down, you finally look at him, “Will that be all, sir?”

Vox’s smile drops. No, it shouldn’t be. It simply didn’t feel right for it to be. But your look wasn’t questioning, instead almost amused, as if you were expecting this, and looking forward to his leaving.

Without anything else to do, Vox simply stalled. Did you think to do this? What about this other thing? Well this is nearly impossible so surely you hadn’t done this! But, some things never change. And you had in fact done everything. Not only that, but your smile grew with every task you’ve already accomplished.

Finally Vox snapped. Just as he’s done before, blabbering aimlessly about your overachieving, meaninglessly raising his voice is his facade display of dominance.

Then you stood up, and considered his outburst. “You know, i’ve been getting other offers. Companies who ‘care’ more. Pay more,” he goes silent, “You want me to stay?”

He nods, going to say something else before you cut him off.

“Anything else you want?” you drawl, backing him into the door.

“Hold on—“

“Beg.” And he does.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin vox x reader

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Three

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Another update this week?? I'm as shocked as anyone else, but hopefully this one will make up a little for the last! It's longer and a little less, um, idk, I can't say emotional?? because that would be a lie:/ Still, there are some developments! Also, it'll make sense a lot later but the 2nd image and the use of a Ride song are used in this one!

Hope you enjoy! Also thank you for all the love on this current series, it means a whole lot and keeps me writing xx

Warnings: similar to that of the last post! so pls look back there if you'd like to know!:)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

“I said no.”

Stressed was a feeling beyond words at this point. The past couple of days all I’d had was press hounding at me, calling and texting, emailing at all hours of the fucking day. They wouldn’t let up, even after I’d stayed silent. Adi reckoned it was mostly down to Teddy’s involvement in the whole thing. I didn’t want to think much more about it, although I knew she wasn’t wrong.

“Give me a reason at least?"

I shot a scathing glare over my shoulder before turning back to the filing system I’d taken to reorganising. It was my first morning back at the studio since... yeah, well Finn had Teddy- another factor to my current load of stress- whilst Adi was off doing something or other. I hadn’t asked, fearful of putting more of a strain on her current friendship- relationship??- with Ross, so instead I’d just chosen to tidy and rearrange the entire setup we had going on here. Because that was perfectly normal. And not a fucking way to evade talking or thinking about the mess that was my life. Okay?

“I don’t need a fucking reason, I just don’t want to.” I retorted, hissing slightly when I suddenly cut my thumb on the edge of a document. I withdrew my hand quickly and raised it towards my mouth, letting my eyes slip close for a moment when I heard a footfall step closer.

“Let me see.” Jamie sighed, probably thinking I’d done something worse to my hand than just a papercut. To be fair, the cabinet was old. One of them filing types from the ninety’s that we’d gotten for a score down at some boot sale, so I wouldn't be surprised if one of us did eventually end up losing an arm.

I shook my head and pushed the cabinet drawer closed, “It’s fine, just a papercut.”

Jamie huffed an amused chuckle before settling down on the edge of the desk nearby. It was Adi’s, you could tell from the sheer amount of shit she had accumulating it.

“One thing after another with you.”

My head tilted towards him with a deadened expression, “Ha ha.”

The older man raised his hands up in a mocking surrender, showing he hadn’t meant any real harm. “Too soon?”

I kicked at the toe of the leather boots he wore in retort as I moved towards the kitchenette, aware that he was just trying to lighten my horrendous mood but not really in the right mind for it. 

“You want a brew?” I asked, not bothering to give him an honest reply to that question of his. Too soon? Yes, that was all too fucking true.

“Have a coffee if there’s one going.”

I dipped my head in a slight nod, filling the kettle and setting it to boil before snagging the coffee often reserved for guests on the show from a shelf nearby.

Jamie moved to better face me on Adi’s desk as I did so, wearing that same expression he’d turned up in, all concerned and weary. It bothered me a bit, seeing as though it was all I had garnered since the press had had their field day with my life, but I could also understand why. They all just seemed to feel for the idiot stupid enough to fall into another of Matty Healy’s traps.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” He wondered around a light chortle at my demand, hands falling to rest between his thighs.

I gestured towards his face whilst I poured a splash of milk into my mug, “Looking at me like that, like I’m gonna break or something.”

With a sigh, he pressed his lips together. “You know it’s not like that.” I rolled my eyes in return but he just bounded on, “You know it’s not, I just care is all.”

I forced out a breathless chuckle, “That why you’re here trying to get me to hear him out then?”

To be fair to him, Jamie had come right out with it when he’d first popped by, having messaged me asking after my whereabouts earlier this morning. I’d told him, having spoken to him quite a bit over the last couple days, and then found him on the doorstep. 

Jamie had been good with everything. He’d let me vent, rally against one of his friends and clients, question his own motives- and hadn’t even complained one bit. But now he was here asking me to give Matty a chance, a lot like he’d done that first time around in that small cafe all those months ago.

“I know you’re angry, you have every right to be.”

“Of course I’m fucking angry!” I immediately shot back at him, the rattle of the teaspoon ringing out as I dropped it into a mug, “I wouldn’t care if it had just been me he’d gone and fucked over! But he brought Teddy into this shit, Jamie. My son! So tell me, how am I supposed to hear him out after he’s done something like that and then lied about it? For weeks, mind you.”

Jamie looked back at me, wearing that ‘this meant business’ mug of his. I slumped at the sight, pressing my knee against one of the lower cabinets to continue stirring the drinks. I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t care.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Mouse.”

My eyes slipped closed at his words and I took a second to just breathe. Because I wasn’t angry, not really. I was hurt and humiliated, and just so fucking sad. Fed up with it all, if I was being honest. Enough so that I knew that Jamie was being truthful here- and not just because it was a fact that I hadn’t spoken to Matty since things had fallen apart, but also because I hadn’t had the heart to ask Teddy about things yet. Or if ever.

The kid was four. Four, and asking after a man every night before he fell asleep and then as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning.

He knew something was up, he was smart like that. But what was I meant to do- to say? When I was just as confused as he was.

I’d ended up leaving him with Finn today, having had no other choice in the situation because the nursery was closed for an inset day, or some shite like that, and it seemed I had no other friends than the few around me. 

Could quite literally count the lot of them on one hand. 

But still, Finn and I’s relationship had still been rather rocky after that whole incident with him and Matty, and hadn’t improved since. In fact, he’d been a little unbearable about everything, always one to toot his own horn whenever he was right about something. But it was always slyly and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was a constant dig, like even when he wasn’t commenting on it he was still thinking it whenever he looked at me.

Which felt so horrible to think, let alone say out loud. He was my best friend. So I’d kept my mouth shut and just dealt with it, like I did everything else in life.

“He’s messed up about it.” Jamie then spoke, his voice having startled me a tad, breaking me out of my musings. He was watching me again, only when he did it, it didn’t feel as condescending as everyone else's. Like he understood my position. And I guessed that he probably sort of did.

“I bet.” I scoffed quietly, an airy titter escaping through my nose, and then I turned to toss my teabag away.

“It’s true.” Jamie shrugged, then nodded in thanks when I pushed a coffee his way. “He’s been ‘round Ross’s ever since shit hit the fan, hasn’t left the flat. Driving the lot of us mad, but he’s torn up, Mouse.”

Tongue in cheek, I wrapped my hands around my cup and propped my hip up against the counter, staring into the still swirling liquid. “Serves him right, I guess.” I replied with a soft shrug of my own, though we both knew I didn’t quite mean it.

Jamie looked over towards one of the windows to the right, most of them were either way too long or too tiny for the space, an odd build, but this particular one gave way to the skyline lying over the remainder of the city. I often wondered what the lower levels might look out at, thinking it was probably the majority of the surrounding buildings, and couldn’t help but feel a little thankful that we’d managed to snag this unit.

When he glanced back over at me, I took a sip and let him speak.

“A lot went on, that much I know, and it’s your choice how you deal with it. But, I saw the two of you. I saw him change. Which is stupid to say, I know, but it doesn’t stop it from being true. He was different with you, he actually tried in other aspects of his life and not just with the band and the music. He looked genuinely happy.” He smiled softly at the eye roll I gave, but it didn’t appear to deter him. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you didn’t fucking cure him. Don’t work like that, does it? But you helped. You and Teddy both.”

I looked away then, back towards the window, unable to really help it, and instead allowed my eyes to trail over the clouds which powdered the dusty blue sky. 

“It was different. Things were different, and I know that there was love there. There couldn’t not have been. The way he looked at you…” Jamie shook his head ever so slightly as he breathed out, unaware of just how deeply his words had cut. But then he peered over at me and I found myself already looking back, air caught somewhere in the swell of my lungs. 

“Don’t.” I choked out, the grip on my mug having tightened tenfold. “Just,” I shook my head.

Jamie put his coffee down on the desk and moved to stand, hands raised to convey he wasn't a threat. “I’m not saying this to hurt you more, love. Just telling you how I saw it.”

I licked at my lower lip, casting my eyes downwards. Our silence stretched and all could be heard was the odd car horn and chirp from beyond the walls of the studio, until-

“Anyone here?”

I blinked back the tears which had started to well in my eyes and sniffed, head shooting up just in time to spot a familiar giant ducking their head under the beam of the doorway, limbs following right after.

George entered but then stopped short when he spotted his manager stood by me, and I laughed to myself at the way the pair of them seemed to eye one another, before stepping in, “Didn’t hear you ring the buzzer.”

Kind eyes darted over to find my soft smile then, welcoming him in, and so George finally moved in closer, laying the jacket he wore to rest over one of the armchairs.

“Yeah, someone was just leaving and let me in.” He answered my unasked question, shrugging as he added, “Dunno whether they recognised me or if they just let anyone up.”

“Probably the second,” Jamie piped up, seemingly having broken himself from his previous bout of surprise, “This lot ‘round here don’t give much of a shit about crap like that.”

I rolled my eyes, but was glad to have a reason to smile slightly. “Or they spotted the BFG making his way over and wanted to avoid pissing him off.”

Jamie cackled whilst George just shot me a narrow-eyed look, “Hilarious. That pot just boiled?” He asked me as he wandered over. I nodded in turn and moved to grab him a cup, only faltering when he lowered my hand with his own and shook his head. “I got it.”

I dipped my head slightly, blinking before taking a step back to let him work. He made a quick go of it, rummaging around the cupboards briefly to find what he needed and only asking for the spoon I still held for some odd reason when he was near done. 

Jamie appeared to have been watching him too, a calculating glaze to his eyes, and he chose that next moment to speak up, “How you been anyway, George? Not seen much of you lately.”

Something unspoken passed between them when George glanced over at him, but I couldn’t tell what.

“Good, busy.” Was what the taller decided on, throwing Jamie a quick smile when he crossed to toss his own teabag in the bin before settling on the counter to the left of me. “You?”

It almost sounded sarcastic, not how he said it but simply because he’d asked it at all, knowing everything that had recently occurred. It must have been a right nightmare for Jamie these last few days, what with him being the band’s main man.

Jamie just laughed though, goodnaturedly, though it was apparent that he was still trying to suss out what was going on, what with George’s sudden appearance. Seeing as I’d never once mentioned him to Jamie.

See, things with George had all started after that studio session Teddy had attended, followed by my wishing him a happy birthday just before Matty had gone and done what he did best. Wrecked it all.

Teddy had become all too smitten with the drummer since he’d first been introduced to the band and their many songs and music videos. He enjoyed the guitar he’d been gifted an awful lot, often playing with it and practising, but each time any sort of song played on the tele or the radio, or even in the car, it wasn’t hard to note the way Teddy instantly mimicked George’s swift movements, pretending to drum along to whatever beat heard. 

George had messaged me on Instagram later that same day, seeing as how apparently Teddy’s appearance at the studio had stuck with him, and asked after him a little. It seemed strange worded like that, but George reckoned that Teds had a real streak of a musicality about him, even as young as he was, and wanted to see if Teddy would be up for learning some more. 

Which had been a Godsend, honestly, what with how the next couple of days had gone down. I’d given him my number via dm just before the storm had started and then the afternoon that had followed the plethora of articles he’d called.

He’d asked how I was at first, almost consoling me in that easy way of his, so full of little words, which had been all too refreshing in truth.

I’d had texts and calls off of practically everyone I knew, even Ronan, the utter prick. And none had managed to soothe me quite like George’s had, seeing as the man had been there too. Not quite in my position, sure, but near enough. He’d even let a little of it slip when he’d popped on over that same day, bringing a bag of takeaway and a roll up drum mat as a gift for Teddy, who had been cooped up with me on the sofa for most of the afternoon. 

The two of them had bonded over it rather quickly, Teddy having been caught off guard by George’s sincerity almost as much as I had been. But then I'd found myself getting to know the drummer too and very much appreciating the unnecessary gesture he’d made for me, even with the pair of us not knowing one another as well as we could have.

I had no idea what was going on between him and Matty, I hadn’t had the balls to ask, but he’d mentioned he hadn’t heard much of anything from him since the night of his party, as well as the fact that his girlfriend, Charli, had been just as annoyed with everything that had gone down.

I knew he’d be stopping by at some point today, we’d made plans to get lunch once he’d heard I was back at the studio on my own, but not recording. I reckoned he was concerned and this was his way of showing it, but it was hard to tell with him most of the time seeing as he’d made it out as though I was doing him a favour here. An effort I came to find I much appreciated. 

“Work, you know how it is.” Jamie replied after a long pause. He was still standing in the same position he’d been in since George arrived, but seemed to move then, picking up what was left of his coffee and pouring what remained down the sink. “But I’d best be going, got a couple calls to make. You gonna be at the studio tomorrow?”

George hummed around his next sip, pulling away with only a dip of his chin. “Should be.”

Jamie smiled, nodding, “Good, I’ll let the rest of them know then.”

I caught George’s slight wince at that, though he didn’t protest his manager's comment. It made me wonder.

Jamie turned to me then, shucking on his jacket. I perked up, not having realised that he really was rushing to leave now. “Remember what I said, alright?”

I blinked, but then nodded. How could I forget? I wanted to ask, but instead said, “You don’t have to head out so quick.”

He sent me a reassuring grin as he flipped over the collar of his coat. “You won’t miss me much,” He then teased before roping me into a hug, “Weren’t lying when I said I had a couple calls though, so it’s best I get out of your hair whilst I still can.” 

I smiled softly at the sound of his lighthearted chuckle and nodded before following him over to the door, “Stay safe.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, all too used to my typical parting now, though amused by it all the same. “Can’t promise anything.” He retorted with a smirk, shuffling over the threshold whilst his eyes flickered back to where George still stood once more. “So, about before?”

I inhaled shakily, though Jamie didn’t seem to notice, fingering the pockets of his jacket in search of his mobile. “I’ll think about it.” I told him.

He flashed me a grin at that, pleased, then let his heel trail over to meet the top step of the metal grating. “Talk to you later then.”

I nodded and watched for a second as he descended the staircase, head bobbing down the first set before he turned and disappeared from view. Sliding back inside, I shut the door quietly behind me, taking a second to steel my nerves before facing the room again.

During that time, George had seemingly gone and made himself comfy on the settee, his mug settled on a coffee table coaster. I moved to join him after putting both mine and Jamie’s cups under the tap to rinse before just leaving them to soak.

George was fiddling with something when I sat down beside him but shuffled over a tad to allow me to get more comfortable, “So what was that about?” I questioned.

“With Jamie?” He asked and I nodded, even though I reckoned he already knew what I was on about. 

He shrugged slightly and I noted the way his finger trailed over a slip of folded paper, it was creased as though it had been played or fiddled with a dozen times too many. My brow seemed to furrow at the sight of it. 

“He tried phoning a few times but I’ve not been too keen on answering, learnt that I’ll just get dragged into the drama if I do.” George finally answered, and for some reason I felt a wad of guilt pool in my stomach upon hearing it, even though I hadn’t been the one to cause this mess.

Or maybe I was just kidding myself.

“Sorry.”

George huffed as he turned to peer over at me, elbows resting on the tops of his knees. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He told me and then gifted me a sweet smile, “None of this is on you. Just thought we were in the clear, you know?” He looked away at that and his smile dimmed into something smaller, almost sadder. “Figured I wouldn’t have to go dodging my mates calls anymore, or be roped into cleaning up everyone else’s messes.”

He reached a hand out to settle on my knee then, probably having noticed the way I was chewing on the insides of my cheek, or maybe the fact that my lip was now trembling. I’d never felt so shitty. So at fault for something I hadn’t really seen coming, nor could I prevent.

“Not your fault, remember?” He reiterated to me, squeezing my joint softly before pulling away. I sniffed before looking up at him with a tiny smile. 

“Promise I don’t usually cry this much. Just been a shitty week is all.” I told him, laughing pitifully as I toyed with the hem of the jumper I’d put on earlier that morning when I’d purposefully avoided the hoodie that had been left on my desk chair, as well as the cupboard full of clothes that didn’t belong to me.

I felt the settee dip slightly before I found him sitting right beside me, lifting an arm to wrap me up in a hug. His cheek came to rest on the side of my head and I felt my heart break that little bit more, because it reminded me that in a second, or two, I wouldn’t have that sense of protection he now offered, shielding me from the rest of the world.

“You’ve been put through the wringer.” George murmured and I had to laugh just a little bit, he laughed too, the sound of it reverberating through his chest to where my head rested. “Fucking cry if you want to, alright? No judgement here."

I spluttered a little on my next chuckle, smiling as I wiped at my eyes. George’s arm just tightened its hold by a fraction, as though he knew it would make things that little bit easier. We both sat there like that for a while, and I appreciated the fact that he was okay with a bit of quiet. That he didn’t run scared from it or try to start up an awkward conversation simply to fill it.

Silence was something I’d come to realise that George often favoured. Because sometimes that was all you really needed.

I don’t know how long we continued like that before he shuffled and pulled that same piece of paper from earlier back into view, holding the corner of it between his forefinger and thumb. I pulled away slightly, looking down at it and then back up at him with a small frown.

“What?”

George merely blinked, staring down at the paper with an odd look before he finally placed it in the hand I had resting on my thigh. My frown only deepened.

“What is it?” I asked him, finger trailing over an edge just as he had done when I’d first spotted it. When I went to unfold it from the opposing corner, he stopped me. 

Confused, I turned to raise a brow at him, only to find him already looking back at me. He bit into his lower lip and then flattened his mouth into a stern line, “I found that when I was last in the studio.”

My chest tightened for some reason, but I was still so baffled. “Okay?”

We were sitting up better now, George’s arm having slipped from my shoulders to come to rest in his lap, fingers trailing over his left hand’s rigid set of knuckles.

“I figured you should see it.” He added in his usual drawl, though his eyes flickered up from the paper to catch mine then and I realised it must've been important. He seemed wary enough to warrant it.

I went to unfold it once again, but then his hand really reached out to stop my own, “I don’t know if I should be here when you do.”

That alone made me even more curious, although there was an edge of caution that now warred at me. “Why?”

George gifted me a gentle smile, the hand that still laid over top of my own squeezing kindly. “I’ll go grab us some food, alright? If you want to open it then do, if not. I won’t mention it again.”

He moved to stand then but my hand shot out to grab at the sleeve of his arm, “George.” But I didn’t know what else to say, I knew I was fearful though.

His fingers moved to meet mine, resting there for a short moment, “It’s your choice. Just, I couldn’t keep it from you.”

I swallowed thickly as he pushed to his feet, the scuff off his heavy boots bouncing off the hardwood floors. Slowly he moved to grab his jacket, giving me time to say no, to deny his offer. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do much of anything really.

The door shut behind him with a soft click a minute later and the quiet of the studio suddenly consumed me. When I glanced back down at the paper I held once more I saw the slight tremble of my hands. I forced myself to exhale, but even that was shaky.

I was careful as I unfolded it, listening to the rustle it made before scrawled lines that had bled through to the other side caught my attention. Pausing, I took a moment to just look at them and then thoughtlessly hurried to reveal the rest of it, taking in its full form. My throat tightened at the sight of familiar scribbles.

You had me from the start  Pulling all the stops out  On the down low, secretly  But I think you knew your psychology  Was working on me  Infatuated  And doing this all wrong  You've got  My number and my name  And you've got me going  Yeah, you've got me going  Can I see you every day?  Do you love me  Like I love you?  Ah, you've got me going  Yeah, you've got me going

(Song: Ride - Future Love)

It was as if something in me had shifted and then turned, sparking itself its very own flame on a bone too sharp and growing and growing until its singed edges burnt and blackened every part of me. 

I must've sat there staring down at it for ages. Crying silently and alone in an empty room, something I’d been avoiding doing since this had all started. Though I supposed it had been inevitable.

His words. His thoughts. Bared to me on a single page. Him none the wiser to any of it. Probably having not even realised it was gone, or missing. And George had read it. He’d seen it and still, after everything, had given them to me.

A tear dropped from my chin then, blotting the page and I could only watch on as the dark ink appeared to cling to it, seeping further and further into the paper. Smudging the ‘Do you love me’ enough so that my breath stuttered and I was suddenly moving all too quickly for my mind to catch up with my thoughtless actions.

Not even a second later my phone was in my hand. 

Messages now To: Jamie O (glasses!) When can he meet me? 

–

Matty had always had a thing for Sundays. 

There was just something about them. Not all that Godly shite that people preached about it being holy and the first day of the week, ‘cause to him Monday would always hold that title- and Monday’s fucking sucked dick. 

No, it was because there was just something peaceful that settled on Sundays, it took him back to simpler times, of days when he’d just been a kid and roast dinners were spent ‘round his nana’s house. Or when Newcastle would play on afternoons and his dad would finally be home to watch with him. 

There was just something about them, you know. He didn’t much believe in luck, typically only the bad sort. But if someone held a gun to his head and told him he had to claim a day which would forever work in his favour, it would just have to be Sunday.

Still, he was unsure on where he currently stood with that sentiment as of late. Seeing as how he was currently in the backseat of a cab, jittery hands clinging onto shaking knees whilst rows of houses, broken up by hues of green and blue, rolled on past him.

It hadn’t been a last minute thing, but it felt much like it. The anticipation was getting to him, he knew that much, sweat licking at the back of his neck whilst his shoulders worked their way up to the lobes of his ears.

Jamie had somehow managed it.

Called him up late last night just before Ross had headed off to bed to tell him that she would finally see him. Jamie’d asked if he’d be alright going alone or if they’d prefer a buffer there, but Matty had immediately declined. So he was doing it alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a misstep on his part, if it would have made things easier on her having someone there, or maybe just given him some semblance of relief as the car slowly drove its way over to her house. The very place he hadn’t stepped foot in since the night of George’s birthday party.

But he hadn’t earnt that reassurance. Felt wrong to bring somebody else along either way. So he was stuck, toying with his phone, hoping or praying that a text wouldn’t come through saying that she’d gone and changed her mind.

It had been just under a week since he’d last seen her. But it felt as though time had dragged out slowly, mocking him or maybe even torturing him for all of his many wrongdoings. 

He fretted over what she might say when she caught sight of him, he himself having only spotted the state he’d worked himself into when he’d been getting ready that morning.

There were heavy bags set beneath his eyes from where he hadn’t really slept and his cheeks were hollowed in that way that they used to revert to when he’d have a particularly hard weekend way back when. If the papers caught wind of him he already knew what the first articles would say, what they would so obviously claim. But he knew the truth, just hoped that she would know it too.

He was startled from his mind at the jerk of the car pulling up onto the nearest curb. His eyes widened in sudden alarm when he realised just what that meant and then caught the look of dismay that crossed the driver’s face when the bloke looked back to announce that they’d arrived. If the man didn’t already think he was on something, then now he definitely did.

Matty swallowed stupidly and then tried for a smile, struggling to undo his seatbelt with the kickstart of shaking that overtook his hands. The driver took pity on him though, turning away to fiddle with something up front that probably didn’t need fiddling with, and finally Matty’s thumb managed to catch the button.

Releasing himself from the confines of the car, he paused just before the door could slam close behind him, handing the man a couple notes in tip, if only to apologise for his edgy behaviour or buy himself a little more time if the driver had somehow managed to suss him out even with his hat, hood and scarf. “Cheers.” He said.

The man blinked at the onslaught of cash and then nodded repeatedly, “Yes, thank you.”

Matty exhaled shakily and then dipped his chin in another goodbye, stepping back onto the curb and watching the cab pull away before he found himself alone once more.

This was it, he supposed.

The street hadn’t changed much in a matter of days but his mind made it seem as though it had. As though suddenly he didn’t belong. The odd man out.

He shoved his hands into the confines of his pockets, pivoting on his heel to face what he’d come here to do. But nothing had prepared him for the way his stomach suddenly bottomed out at the sight of her front door.

The sound of a car horn a way away spooked him, causing him to jump, but did eventually force him forward off the curb and onto the cracked pavement. He stared down at all the dips and curves they had to offer him the entire way up the path until finally, he reached her front steps.

If anyone asked, Matty would tell them it was as though he’d been working on autopilot when he pried the silver knocker up from the wood and let it rap twice. Though that would be an utter lie. His head screamed at him the whole while and his fingers blurred before him when he’d raised them up to grasp at the chilled metal. 

He’d never felt so sick, just standing there, the seconds slowly trickling into minutes, or perhaps even hours. It honestly felt as the day was slowly growing colder the longer that he stood there, staring at a coat of familiar paint, before finally hinges creaked and the door opened, revealing a sight that would’ve surely cured sore eyes, if only it hadn’t gone and broken his heart first.

It wasn’t immediate, the effect the past couple days had had on her. It was more in the way she held herself, the sadness which clung to her every fibre, the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye.

She stared, caught in a standstill, and for a long moment did nothing before silently and slowly she withdrew enough to allow him through.

Matty didn’t dare utter a word, let alone breathe. Careful to avoid brushing against her or stepping on her toes as he slowly crossed over the threshold to get in, though the hands he’d hidden in his coat pockets curled into fists to keep himself steady.

The first thing he noted upon first entering was the significant state of the flat, it wasn’t messy or untidy by any means, but looked nothing at all like a house typically inhabited by a child should, or at least a monster as chaotic as he knew Teddy to be. It was almost as though Mouse had been expecting a letting agent to pass through with a couple dozen couples, what with how clean it was. He almost reckoned that if he were to crouch down right there he’d probably be able to make out the seam of his jeans in the reflection of the floors.

“You can just hang your-”

“I know.” Matty whispered, not intentionally meaning to cut her off but unable to help himself anyway. 

It hurt, feeling as though he was just a guest in a place he had practically considered home not too long ago. He coughed lightly and shrugged off his coat to do so anyway, hanging it up where he usually did, something which made him pause for a split second, wondering whether this could possibly be the last time he’d have the privilege of doing so.

“Right.” Mouse murmured somewhere behind him, snapping Matty out of his thoughts. She stepped on by him just after, eyes trained on the end of the hallway until they reached the living room, “Erm, I’m just starting on a brew. You can wait here if you want.”

He wanted to follow after her, to fall down onto his knees and fucking sob there at her feet, but he was scared he’d dirty her floors or more than likely end up looking like a total knob. He would. Fucking felt like one just from thinking it. So he did as instructed, moving towards the sofa, taking note of everything and anything the room had to offer him. 

Matty’s eyes flickered over to the kitchen doorway when he realised she’d stopped there, fiddling with her nails before she caught him looking and dropped her hands. “Just realised I didn’t ask if you wanted anything.”

God, it was so fucking strained.

He took a short breath in and attempted to smile, “Tea sounds good.” Was all that he said, and watched on as her brow wrinkled, head tilting with it.

“Uh, I still have that coffee you like. The one you brought over, if you’d prefer.” She told him and he recognised her confusion for what it was, or maybe it was just her weariness over letting him know that his stuff was still where he’d left it. Or, maybe, just fucking maybe he was reading way too much into everything.

“Tea’s good.” Matty murmured, feeling a little less tense now that he knew that she was sort of sitting in the same boat. “But thanks.”

Her chest rose and fell with her next breath and he watched her nod with difficulty at him, still not meeting his eye. “Right, just be a sec then.”

She disappeared past the door with that, whilst he simply stood and listened to the run of the tap and then the flick of the kettle, feeling stupid for having missed something he hadn’t even realised he’d taken note of before. 

But that was just typical, wasn’t it? To miss something so mundane now that it was no longer expected.

Once he heard the clink of mugs Matty allowed his gaze to roam, trailing over the bundle of neatly folded throws settled on the wicker basket by the sofa, ones he knew that if Teddy was here would still be scattered all over the floor before the tv. 

There were a couple of coasters laid out on the coffee table, though the fruit bowl had since been removed, something he knew Mouse did whenever there were only a few pieces left or none at all. There would probably be grapes or something of the sort in the fridge though.

She had a couple of receipts left out on the shelf below the mirror she’d hung up on the wall when she’d first moved in, and the picture frames beside them were still the same. Only one was missing, and he knew which. 

He noticed that the candles over by the lamp were new though, expensive if he remembered rightly because he was sure that he’d spotted them round someone else’s place recently. He wondered briefly over who could’ve gifted them to her, knowing that she much preferred her usual scents, only ever splurging on the larger Yankee Candle jars they had to offer in the local Debenhams.

He found himself smiling at the thought.

It was then that she shuffled back into the room though, stalling his observations. She carried two mugs in her hand and a small plate loaded with biscuits on her forearm. Immediately Matty moved to help her, taking the plate from her even with knowing that she had it handled.

“I could’ve managed.” She murmured, though not unkindly, and then thanked him quietly once she’d gone and placed the mugs down. 

Matty followed her lead, settling the biscuits near the edge of the coffee table, between the two coasters, before fumbling for a second over where to sit. Squeaks seemed to take to one end of the settee so Matty perched on the other, though closer to the middle crease than the arm.

“You got hobnobs?” Matty finally asked, breaking the silence again, eyes flicking over to the plate he’d just held before shooting back over to find her.

She blushed faintly at his comment, then shrugged. “You like them, don’t you?”

Matty scoffed lightly, a soft smile limning his lips, “Yeah, but you hate them. Once claimed that they were like digestives only after being shat out.”

She wrinkled her nose at that, though Matty was quite sure he could spot the mirth that flickered across her face. “Want them or not?”

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation and knowing not to push it, he picked one up and settled in a little more comfortably into the sofa cushions.

The silence would’ve been almost unbearable if she hadn’t had the foresight to have turned the tv on low before he’d arrived. So whilst a documentary played on one of the many BBC channels, Matty struggled with himself to find the best thing to say. Though he needn’t have bothered, she was always one step ahead.

“So, I think I should start by saying that I um, I know I held a lot of expectations.” 

Almost simultaneously, Matty frowned.

She just wrung her hands together once before thinking better of it and laying them flat in her lap. Matty merely wished to reach out and take them in his own. “And I get that it must’ve been a struggle for you, to basically go from like one end of a scale and then jump right off the other side. But, I-”

“What are you on about?” Matty interrupted, unable to help himself in truth, so beyond baffled by the sudden speech she’d started. She stopped and blinked over at him, finally looking him in the eye. At last.

“What do you mean?” She retorted with a pinch between her brows, “Listen, I planned this all out, alright? So can I just get out what I want to say?”

Matty stared, then forced out a breath of air. “Squeaks,” She shuttered at the name, closing off slightly, enough so that Matty took quick note and wished he hadn’t said a thing, but yet, he still carried on. Desperate to save any blundered attempt he’d make. “Look, this weren’t on you. None of it was, okay?”

Her eyes trailed back over towards him at that, though her expression was almost unreadable. Matty struggled with that bit the most, he’d always been able to read her for the most part.

“So, this crap about expectations and me struggling with whatever idea you’ve made up in your mind is stupid.” Her eyes narrowed then and he watched her work her jaw, obviously none too happy about his retort. He withheld a heavy sigh, “I’m not- Look, I’m not trying to be difficult I’m just saying that- What I’m trying to say is, that every relationship has goals or expectations, that’s normal. But nothing you ever did forced me do what I did. That shit? It was all on me. It was me being insecure and scared, yeah? So, don’t go trying to excuse it. Because I’ve had people do that for me for far too fucking long now and hearing it come from you...” 

He sort of felt himself slump at that, a little bitter and resentful over the fact that she’d since come to think of it that way. As though his mistakes were all just down to her and her inability to do right by him. He realised though, belatedly, that if anyone else had done exactly that, or even attempted to, in any other scenario he just might have taken up the offer and ran with it. But this was her, this was Squeaks. 

She was quiet for a time, then she picked up her mug, eyes trained on the movement of it before, “What then?” 

“What?” Matty frowned once more, shuffling forward in his seat in an attempt to catch her eye again.

“Why did you do it then? Why’d you lie, why didn’t you tell me about Teddy?”

That knot he’d been feeling for weeks now. The one at the very end of his tongue, all tied and tangled in the back of his throat, suddenly shrivelled up and slackened, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a plethora of guilt behind.

Matty’s gaze wandered over to the window, to where Teddy’s guitar sat in its stand just before a heavy set of grey curtains. He withheld the urge to pick at his nails as he searched for the right words to give her, wanting so honestly to tell her the truth, to give her a play by play of what had happened in detail, as well as every thought that had gone through his mind. 

“It wasn’t what it looked like for a start.”

Mouse scoffed a little at that, and Matty couldn’t be mad at it. If he was sat on the other end of this he’d been doing more than just that, he’d be up in arms, tossing shit about and raving to all who would listen.

Still, his eyes trailed down to where his hands now laid in his lap and he pressed his thumb to his palm. “We were on the highstreet, on the way back here.” He started, voice quiet as his stare tracked the faint lines of his hand, “The guy you saw in the pictures came out of nowhere really. Me and Teds had just been at that ice cream shop a way down, I didn’t even spot him until he was there, in my face.”

Matty wet his lower lip, mouth suddenly going dry. Mouse just waited.

“Teddy was quick to hide behind me, you know? The loudmouth didn’t even really notice him until the last minute. But you have to know, all I wanted was to get him out of there. To avoid staying too long and attracting the wrong sort of attention. Okay? So I’d said I had to get going as soon as he'd spoken, told him I didn’t have time to stay and chat.” 

He took a quick breath with that, eyes still centred on the deepest groove of his palm. “But then he, then he brought up Luke. Said something about the funeral he didn't go to and wanting to celebrate his life.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Squeaks’s hands still from their previous bout of fidgeting. “But I told him I was clean. He didn’t believe me at first, which,” Matty huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, “Well, I can’t blame him for that, what with my track record.”

He heard her inhale then and looked up, it seemed as though she was going to say something but thought better. So Matty bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from asking before he exhaled slowly, digging a nail into that groove.

“He got a bit aggy, started calling me a toff and whatnot, because I 'spose I was just a rich boy who bought him a couple grams of coke every now and then.” He clucked his tongue thinking about it, but eventually shrugged. “Then I don’t know, he must’ve looked down or something ‘cause that’s when he,” Matty paused and his gaze shot over to her, then away again, “That’s when he spotted Teddy.”

Mouse wrinkled her mouth, then tried to nod, obviously wanting him to continue. Though she kept her eyes trained on the rim of her mug.

“That’s when he said some shit and I reacted.”

“Said what?”

Matty startled a little at the sound of her question but was hasty in his attempt to answer. “Just, he reckoned that Teddy was mine and that I had to have knocked someone up. So now they were just using me for the money.”

Her eyes slipped closed and her fingers tightened their grip on her cup.

Swallowing thickly, Matty went to continue, “I shoved him and told him to do one- that’s what they caught in those photos. I didn't take anything he offered, I didn't even look back after. Just walked away, thinking of Teddy, trying to get him out of there. The bloke, he kept on shouting, saying some crap about this and that. But I carried on walking.”

Matty was proud of that fact, even with everything that had happened since. Not too long ago, a different version of him would have handled it all too severely. It was a step, a tiny one, sure, but it was progress.

“Then what?” Mouse voiced, prompting him along with just a look.

“Then we walked home.” Matty replied, feeling that familiar cloud of shame dawn over him. “We didn’t really speak, I- I was a bit of a mess, trying to figure out what to do next, what to tell Teddy, to say to make it right again. But Teds, he,” Matty hauled in his next breath, all too fucking close to bawling, that he could admit. “He called for me and I looked down at him. All I could say was sorry, Mouse.”

She nodded tightly, the knuckles she had wrapped around her tea cup had whitened.

“He,” Matty felt the corners of his mouth lift as he remembered the bittersweet memory of Teddy trying to soothe him, “He told me it was alright, that we were okay, but I just kept on saying sorry. He said that the bloke was just a bad man, and I assured him of that. Wanting him to know that we were okay, that the guy was long gone. But then he-”

Matty stopped altogether then, a picture of Teddy's little face coming to the forefront of his mind, and Squeaks immediately took note.

“Then what?”

Her eyes were so full of emotion, but which ones he wasn’t too sure. Still, the sight tightened every muscle in his chest as he forced himself to finish what he’d started. “He said we couldn’t tell you.”

Matty knew he couldn’t have imagined the sharp inhale that sounded from her then, as though she'd just received a blow to the chest. And he so desperately wanted to reach out, to wrap her up and just fucking hold her. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.

He watched on as she licked at her top lip though, blinking back the wetness that shone in her eyes, “Why?” Her voice cracked on the question but she did not cry.

It was a simple answer. “He didn’t want to hurt you.”

Mouse stood then, placing the cup down with some force before she hastily made her way over to the front window. Matty stayed seated, unsure if he’d be welcome near her.

“It fucking broke me, Squeaks.” He admitted after a moment, his lips now tingled with the sheer amount of effort it took for him to not let his emotions get the better of him. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You should have told me.” Was her reply, sharp and cutting, enough that it fucking wounded. Because Matty knew that she was right.

“I know.” He answered.

“You should have fucking told me, Matty!” She repeated, turning then to face him. He saw the tremble of her shoulders, the curve of her mouth and how it quaked. He stared, couldn't bring himself to look away.

“I know.”

He swallowed, throat almost aching as much as the hole that made up the majority of his chest. 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“I don't know.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

#the 1975 #fic #matty healy #angst #radio host #reader #x reader #x you #george daniel #ross macdonald #the 1975 band #adam hann #fluff #humour #smut #matty healy fic #matty 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #matty healy x you #ao3 #fame #strangers to lovers #mum reader #kid fic #getting together #SLOWBURN #mutual pining #Warnings #aipoban

[plentyoffandoms]

Hey boo!

I've been obsessing over this song and I feel like you would be able to create an amazing smut piece from it.

I would, of course, love it to be Hook or Ricky, but any wrestler could work.

Main Masterlist ♡ Wrestlers Masterlist ♡ Hook Masterlist

LIKE YOU MEAN IT (18+)

Hook x f/Reader

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Smut under the cut. P in V. Unprotected sex. Outdoor sex

Gifs and photos do not belong to me: 1st gif @junglehooks

Requested by @wwenhlimagines . I hope you like it.

Tyler - Hook

Red wine and roses

Sugar-coated

Your carousel spin me round

Round, round, round

The two of us were sitting on the balcony of our hotel room. Looking up at the night sky, we could see the stars clearly out here tonight.

It was a perfect night. The moon was shining down on us, and I swear I saw a shooting star, but that could have been just my imagination as her pussy was squeezing my cock just perfect way.

My hands gripped her hips as she leisurely moved up and down atop of me. Her hands gripped my shoulders to steady herself.

We both know we

Don't want us, oh we

Inside, we're screaming so loud

Loud, loud, loud

I am biting the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning loudly, not wanting to alert anyone who may be out here, looking up at the night sky.

I didn't want them to see her, how I should only see her, but she was making it hard for me to stay quiet.

"Come here." Was all I said as I placed my hand at the nape of her neck and brought her lips to mine for a heated kiss.

The two of us moaning into the kiss, finally being able to make some type of noise.

When the horns start playing, and you can't stop shaking

The bloodlust runs to your cheeks

Then your mind starts racing, and your bones start aching

It's time to let him know what you need

"Tyler, I need you." She whimpered against my lips as she pulled back, her pace slowing down even more.

"I'm right here, baby." I told her as I sat up and started to kiss and bite her neck, working my day to her chest.

"Please." Was all she said.

"I got you, baby."I pulled my cock out of her, I flipped us over so her back was now on the lounger. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I wrapped her legs around my waist.

Fuck me like you mean it (like you mean it)

Make me believe it (me believe it)

Walk the wire, it's alright

I gripped my cock and slapped it against her pussy, making her shiver. She knows what is going to happen. "Be quiet for me, baby, and I'll reward you."

She didn't have time to cover her mouth as I slammed into her, fucking her hard and fast.

She was biting by shoulder, trying to keep quiet, and I swear she broke skin, but I didn't care.

Not with the way her whole body was gripping me oh so tightly.

Love me like you need it (like you need it)

'Cause I can feel it (I can feel it)

Take it higher, show me why

I fucked her all over this balcony, just not caring anymore if we got caught. I fucked her through each orgasm I was able to pull from her body.

I knew she was getting tired, as she slumped over the table, but never once said the safe word.

She wanted me to fuck her until she passes out or says our safe word.

Keep my composure

I think it's over

Her cherry lips knock me down

Down, down, down

We are now on the lounger once more, her atop of me as I fuck up into her. Our bodies were sweaty, but I just need a couple more minutes. I am so close. So very fucking close.

Take it slower

Getting closer

But then, she lets out a sound

Sound, sound, sound

But then, it was like a dam burst inside of her. She cried out my name loudly. It seemed to echo in my ears.

Her body went stiff, as her pussy squeezed my cock for the final time tonight.

She collapsed against me, just as I groaned her name, trusting sloppily into her as I came.

The two of us hold onto one another as we catch our breaths.

I bring my lips to hers and gently kiss her, and she tiredly kisses me back.

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @faerieofthenightcourt @tahiri-veyla @crowleysqueenofhell

#aew #all elite wrestling #reader imagine #reader insert #female reader #hook aew #hook imagine #hook smut #hook fic #hook fanfiction #hook x reader #hook x y/n #hook x you #hook x female reader #hook x f/Reader #wrestler x reader #wrestler x female reader #wrestler x f/Reader #wrestler smut #wrestler imagine

[officialundertakersmoocher]

can u do the “being ____’s lover” thing but with grelle pls? sfw and nsfw too. have a nice day/night!!

Being Grelle's Lover may Include...

i feel like it's pretty obvious that Grelle is bisexual and doesn't really care about your gender

as long as you like her she loves you ❤️

Grelle is super hyper all of the time so she will constantly be overjoyed just to be in your presence

she would also be a big fan of playing dress up with you and trying her best to fashion you in all different shades of red

girly activities would be her favorite. you will be having tea with her and playing dress up because you love her!

grelle is always showering you with attention and love and if you can't handle it, bye bye baby!

she would be the type of girlfriend to feed you dessert off of a spoon and if you found this embarrassing, she would continue to be even more dramatic about it to tease you :)

she would love cutesy displays of affection such as swinging your hands as you walk or spinning each other in a make-shift dance

you probably won't be able to escape the inevitable moment where grelle brings you to her office and the teasing ensues

(grelle loves to talk about you to her coworkers)

she would find ways to see you almost every day as long as her work permits it

you could be minding your business and poof! here she is!

she's definitely an eccentric, and i can imagine that she would love to take on many hobbies (even if she doesn't keep them up for long)

she would also love to learn about your hobbies and even try them out (maybe fail a little- but of course you could comfort her your all your might-)

she would really love if you were to plan cute dates for the both of you to enjoy- especially something romantic like a coffee shop or book store!

grelle is also the type of girlfriend to start a small argument with you for the soul purpose off gaining your attention and so that you can both cuddle afterwards

Nsfw

i can imagine that grelle loves the chase

she would be overjoyed if you send her some steamy pictures while she was at work

she would really love make out sessions and the sensual touching that comes before sex

she's a woman, of course, and loves to take it slow

that doesn't mean, though, that she wouldn't be into anything kinky, in fact it's the exact opposite

she loves roleplay and fake scenarios

it would be her dream if you would indulge her and let her play out this kink

she also would love bondage, and she wouldn't care which end receives it

she also would love to experiment with toys and such

she definitely is a crazy girl in the bedroom, and would love to try out anything new

if you really do not want to indulge in any kinky activities, she wouldn't push it but she might make some lighthearted jokes about you being the the more vanilla one 🤍

Grelle is the type to immediately fall asleep after sex, but she would love to cuddle

she also doesn't mind doing casual sexual activities and she loves make out sessions

she could easily get bored of doing the same things in the bedroom, though, but she wouldn't keep it to herself and doesn't mind having healthy conversations about boundaries and what you both want

#black butler #black butler season 4 #black butler 4 #black butler x reader #black butler x you #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader #black butler headcanons #kuroshitsuji x you #kuroshitpost #kuroshitsuji headcanons #grell sutcliff x reader #grell is a woman #black butler grell #kuroshitsuji grell #grell sutcliff #grelle sutcliff #black butler grelle #black butler manga #anime and manga #anime #manga #x reader #reader insert #black butler reapers #black butler reader insert #grim reaper #grell x you #grell headcanons #black butler x y/n

[annwrites]

exactly what he needs, pt. 1 ♡ ⋆｡˚

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (going to be multi-chapter)

— summary: nate asks you for private tutoring, using the excuse that no one can find out, due to who his father is—the über perfectionist & king of east highland. you agree, since you've tutored others, and do so through a school program, at that. as such, he'll be no different than the rest who've needed your help. as time goes on, though, and the gifts, phone calls, and texts begin to pile up, as well as him driving you to and from school, and his near-constant insistence on "hanging out", you wonder if nate ever really needed academic help in the first place., or if it was all a ruse for something more troubling to take place.

— tags: homework, studying, tutoring, nate lusting after/fantasizing about you & wanting to make you wholly his

— tw: misogyny, lying, dollification, sexualization

— word count: 4,144

— a/n: this is going to be part of a series, as indicated above. this post will serve as part 1. i promise it will get juicier going forward, i just needed to lay some groundwork for the reader & nate.

After McKay's party and Maddy's fucking another guy in his pool for all to see—completely humiliating and emasculating him—Nate was done with her. No, beyond done. He'd wasted how much time, money, and effort on her? All for her to turn out to be the whore he'd always known her to be.

She was always too loud. Too attention-seeking. Too selfish and spoiled. The kind of girl who used the excuse of being "brutally honest" and a refusal to "take any shit" just to be a bitch to whoever she pleased. And she always got away with it, too.

Well, not this time. Not with him. She was going to learn what being on her own finally felt like.

Besides, she'd never been his type. Not really.

She was nice to look at, sure, and he'd thought her loyal. How fucking stupid he'd been to do so. But that was all she'd had going for her in the end.

And then there had been Cassie—one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made had been hooking up with her. He'd thought her different than who she turned out to be. She pretended to be so pure and wide-eyed, when in reality she was fucking psychotic and obsessed with him. He couldn't stomach that level of desperation from a girl.

The night she had completely lost it in his bedroom, screaming about how "crazy" she was had been the last straw.

And the fact she'd so easily betrayed Maddy? Who knew how long before she did the same to him. That was the last thing he needed to worry about.

Nate leans back, barely paying attention to what Ms. Clark is teaching the class at-present. His attention is instead focused on you.

You, who's been there since Nate was five-years-old and in kindergarten. You, who's always been quiet and soft-spoken, reserved and smart, sweet and shy, and who has no reputation whatsoever to speak of—he'd even gone so far as to check for you on SlutPages, and you'd been, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be found. You were the very definition of innocent.

You, who didn't dress like a slut or go out of your way to get attention. Hell, you didn't even go to parties or football games. Not that he'd ever seen you at either, at least.

He may've looked for you in the stands last Friday night, for whatever reason, despite knowing you wouldn't be there. But he had hoped, even for a moment.

Personality-wise? You were perfect for him. Exactly what he needed; had needed all along. He could kick himself for not seeing it sooner. But better late than never that he did so now.

The way you dressed? He wasn't sure how he felt about it. It suited you well-enough, sure, but he liked to imagine you in cute babydoll dresses, with your hair down and softly curled, a pair of ballet flats on your feet, as opposed to your usual sweaters or blouses, with plaid or high-waisted skirts, your hair typically in a high-ponytail or bun.

He saw your potential, your beauty. Your potential beauty, even.

He knew he needed an excuse to talk to you again after all these years, as he couldn't remember the last time he'd done so—the beginning of middle-school perhaps? He knew you tutored, so he chose the subject you seemed most passionate about—history—and his plan was set.

He spends the remainder of class watching and admiring you. Your delicate handwriting, the soft look in your eyes, your dainty hands, slim shoulders, and your perfect posture. He becomes so engrossed that he jolts when the bell rings, signaling the end of class, ripped from his daydreams of walking down the halls, your hand in his, soft feminine dresses hanging from your frame, your hair falling in soft waves down your back as every guy sees that you're his now.

As every guy realizes that they can look, but never touch, as he presses kiss after kiss to your pink lips, your soft body pressed between his and the lockers, you quietly giggling as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he walks you to your next class.

Ever-polite, you wait until nearly everyone else has rushed out of the classroom before you follow suit.

Nate's already standing behind you and notes how cute it is—your complete obliviousness to his presence. It was refreshing, actually, for a girl not to be throwing herself at him for once.

"Y/N," he says, softly.

You jump, nearly dropping your books. Before you can speak, wondering why he's wanting your attention in the first place—as the two of you never speak—he reaches out, gently taking your books from your arms. He then nods his head toward the door. "I'll walk you to your locker. There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

Completely bewildered, you simply head in the direction of the door and go to your locker. You fumble with the dial for a moment, screwing up the combination the first time, but thankfully getting it on the second.

You take your books from him, placing them all back where they belong before turning to him. "Thank you"

He immediately likes how polite you are. "Welcome," he replies.

As you ready your materials for your next class, you speak again. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

He leans his side against the locker next to yours. How had he never noticed that you were just a few rows down from his own before?

"Before I tell you, I need you to promise me it stays between us. I don't want other people finding out."

It was both a truth and a lie. The lie being that it was, more than anything else, a test. A test to see if even this early on, you'd simply make yourself agreeable to him, if you'd keep a secret simply because he asked you to.

He wants to know how much you'll prod before just caving and giving him what he wants.

You look at him, then. "I..." You trail off for a moment. The first time he speaks to you in how many years and that's the first thing he says to you?

He smirks in understanding of your hesitation. "It's nothing bad, I promise. I'm not about to ask you to hold drugs for me or something."

A bit of reassurance—that much he could offer without issue.

"Okay, I promise."

He fills with satisfaction. Already he can tell you're easily submissive. He hopes for as much, at least.

"I'm uh...I'm not doing too well in history. I got a D on the last test, and I'm close to failing the class as a whole. I was wondering if you'd be willing to tutor me?"

You turn fully toward him, then, filling with understanding. He's ashamed.

You give him a kind, sympathetic look and he adores you all the more for it.

"You don't need to be embarrassed about asking for help, Nate. It's why the school has a tutoring program. You're doing the right thing for yourself." You remove a flyer for said program from your locker, placing your heart-shaped magnet back where it goes. "Here, there's a list of resources and tutors for—"

He immediately cuts you off, shaking his head, placing the flyer back under that same magnet. Because of course you have pastel-colored magnets of hearts and clouds and flowers on the inside of your locker.

He looks at you. "I asked you for a reason. It needs to be kept a secret for a reason. I mean, you know who my dad is: King-Asshole-of-East-Highland. If he found out that I'm almost failing one of my classes, and much more asking for outside help, instead of just taking care of the problem myself..."

He shakes his head again, hoping the my-dad-is-too-tough-on-me-and-expects-nothing-less-than-perfection routine has worked.

You shift from one foot to the other, unable to understand how anyone could see their child taking the steps to actually get help as a bad thing, as a failing, or short-coming. But Cal Jacobs did seem to be nothing if not perfect. Perfect image, perfect job, perfect business, family, home—you name it.

"Why me?" You ask, genuinely curious. There's a whole roster of tutors signed up with the school, not to mention a couple teachers who also offer academic help after-hours a few times a week.

"I've known you my entire life. I trust you to keep this just between the two of us."

Simple enough answer, you think.

You close your locker then. "What subject?"

"History."

Your favorite one, at least. You'd never been the best at math. Had he said it instead, he'd be finding someone else, whether he liked it or not. You'd just get him worse grades in the end, if nothing else.

"Ok, we could um...we could meet at the library. They have study rooms for—"

He interrupts you again. "No, it needs to be your place, if that's ok. I don't want to risk anyone seeing me getting help in public."

Once again, a truth and a lie. More than anything he just wanted—no, needed—to get you alone and all to himself.

"Oh." You hesitate for a moment, but don't really have an excuse as to why you can't do it at your house. So, you relent. "That's fine, I guess. When did you want to start?"

"Today, if that's cool with you."

That soon, you think.

You nod. "Today is fine." Your brows furrow. "Do you know where I live? If not, I could give you my address?"

He smirks. "Or I could just drive us there. I have my truck. You won't have to take the bus."

Won't that arouse suspicion among his friends? The two of you suddenly being seen together? "Your friends won't ask questions?"

He'd not thought of that. Stupid. He simply shrugs, pretending not to care. "If they do, I'll just tell them to mind their own business."

You raise a brow for a moment, doubting they will, but suppose it doesn't really matter to you either way. It's his secret that he's desperate to keep, not yours.

The bell rings, letting you know you have two minutes to get to your next class. "Ok, I'll see you after school then."

"See you then," he replies with a smile.

Once school has let out for the day, you nearly go to get on the bus, then remember just before walking up the first step, that you're being driven home by Nate today.

It's strange to think about: you, with Nate Jacobs, in his truck.

Even when you were little the two of you had never exactly been friends. But you suppose that can always change. Not that you're sure that you want it to.

It seems like wherever Nate goes, drama follows. First with Maddy and whatever had happened weeks ago at McKay's party. Something had happened the night of the fair—something bad—but no one would talk about it. And then he'd apparently gotten with Cassie, which was...a recipe for disaster, to put it plainly.

You don't like drama. Don't like the people who seem to thrive on it. And he certainly seems to be one of them. Someone who's always in the middle of it, at least.

Then you tell yourself you're just being silly. You're going to be tutoring him, that's all. You doubt it will ever even build up to friendship.

Once you've made it into the parking lot proper, you begin to scan it, looking down row after row of vehicles until you see Nate watching you, a smirk on his face as he leans back against the front of his Dodge pickup.

You wait as a car passes, then finally come to stand in front of him, suddenly feeling nervous.

"You ready?" He asks.

As he looks down at you, you only just now realize how much of a disparity there is between your heights. You look up at his towering form, suddenly incredibly self-conscious of how short you are. Somehow it makes you feel childlike...

Meanwhile, Nate absolutely eats it up. It'd be all too easy to toss you around on a bed like a ragdoll, he thinks.

Finally, you nod.

You both walk around to the passenger side, but before you can ask him—your brows now furrowed—what he's doing, he opens the door for you to get in. "Oh, thank you," you say, climbing into the oversized truck.

Who needs vehicles these big...

"Welcome," he says, shutting the door.

As you buckle yourself in, setting your backpack at your feet, you watch as he walks around the front of the truck to get in and internally cringe, wanting to try and climb down into the floorboards to hide, when you see Cassie staring directly at you. If looks could kill, you would've been dead instantly.

You want to get out and tell her it's not what she thinks it is, but you're broken from your staring straight back at her when Nate closes his door and the truck revs to life. After buckling himself in, he looks at you, noticing you've now gone pale.

No way you considered him opening your door as him having already gone too far.

"Everything okay?"

You look at him. "Cassie is staring at us. I think she might think that we're-"

He puts the truck into gear, pulling out of the lot. "Who gives a damn what she thinks."

Once the two of you are on the road, you clear your throat. "Do you know where I live?"

In truth, he doesn't. "No, sorry, you'll have to give me directions."

And you do, until, finally, he pulls into your front driveway.

You're not sure why your stomach is full of butterflies. Perhaps because no one comes over to your house. Ever. You're almost always here alone. Your dad is the only parent you have left—your mother having signed over full-custody of you to him when you were too young to even remember her, and he's always away for work—so hosting company isn't exactly a regular thing.

The house is clean, and you'd also recently been grocery shopping, so it isn't as if you have anything to worry about.

The two of you exit his truck and you make your way to the front door, quickly unlocking it.

Once you've both entered the house, you watch nervously as he takes in the living room.

Your house isn't anything special. It has all the necessities for living and comfort, but it isn't like something out of a magazine.

You tell yourself you're fine with that.

You silently slip off your shoes and Nate does the same, following your lead. You then step onto the plush carpet and turn back to him, still standing before the door. "I'm going to go change and then we can start. The dining room is this way," you say, nodding your head to the right.

You walk through the entryway, into the aforementioned room. You set your backpack down on a chair, then walk straight ahead, through the kitchen, and into your bedroom around the corner.

It's only a moment, but while you change, Nate snoops.

He notices how little your house seems to be lived-in. How neat and tidy and damn-near spotless it is.

And that the two of you are alone.

He silently unzips your backpack, quickly rifling through it. A couple textbooks, some fantasy novel, and your binder. He wants to go through every folder, but refrains, knowing he doesn't have the time and it's too big of a risk. He's fairly certain he won't find anything interesting in it anyway.

Finally, he sits, pulling his history book and tonight's homework out of his own.

When you finally enter the dining room again, Nate looks up. He isn't sure what kind of outfit he'd been expecting, but sweatpants and a light-purple t-shirt hadn't been it.

He wishes you'd worn something that shows off the beautiful body you have instead. Not...that.

He mentally shrugs. You're in your home, trying to be comfortable. He actually really likes that you hadn't put on something meant to impress him.

You aren't fake. Another thing he really likes about you. Not that he's making a mental checklist, or anything.

He sees you eye the other side of the table, but before you can take another step toward it, he pushes out the chair next to him with his foot.

You stop for a moment, then decide sitting next to him is fine, too. So you take the seat he's offered you and notice he's already pulled out his history book and the worksheet you'd both been given for homework as well.

You'd already done yours during your free period.

You slide the book over to yourself and flip it open to the chapter your class is currently working through.

"You're in luck, because the period of history we're going over right now is actually my favorite."

He rests an arm on the wooden dining table, turning toward you. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

You raise a brow. "You don't even know what time period we're working through?" You ask with a smile.

He grins in response. "To be completely honest, I don't really give a shit about history. I know, I know. The whole, if you forget, you're going to repeat it shit. I guess I just don't believe any of that."

"I don't think it's that serious. But if you hope to pass and get past junior year, having the credit for this core class is imperative. And it's the Dark Ages, by the way. Also known as the medieval period."

He snickers. "Imperative, huh?"

You withdraw into yourself. He's making fun of you.

He quickly notices the smile disappear from your face and realizes how he'd sounded. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to mock you. It's just... Nobody talks the way you do. Not at East Highland, at least."

You pretend to take interest in the book sitting before you. "And what way is that?"

"I don't know. Intelligently, I guess." He says it with a shrug.

You give a small smile at that, and he knows he's off the hook.

He sets the worksheet Ms. Clark has given for homework between the two of you.

"Do you know all of this?"

You look at him and nod. "I already got mine done."

"Of course you did. So," he looks down at it. "What is the name of the English civil war fought between the years of 1455-1487?"

He looks at you then.

You glance down to the book. "I don't know, what was the name of it?"

He shakes his head, a playful look on his face as he begins to skim through the pages. He looks up to you, then. "I could just Google all of this."

You lean back in your seat. "You could. But the point of reading the material and studying it, is so you have a chance of actually remembering it when there's a test. Hopefully for even longer, like, once you've graduated as well."

He shrugs again. "It's not all bad, I guess. Also gives me an excuse to talk to you."

He was putting his motives right out in the open now. But instead of you seeing this study session, this request for tutoring as exactly that—a motive to get close to you and make you his—you blush.

You don't know what to say in response, so you just give him the answer. "It's the War of the Roses."

He stares at you for a moment longer, then writes down what you've said.

He leans back. "So, why is this your favorite period of history?"

You look at him. "I guess the romanticism of it, even if it wasn't an entirely romantic time period. Civil war, the plague, men beheading their wives... Did you know most high-fantasy takes its inspiration from medieval Europe?"

He shakes his head, content to continue listening to you talk about something you're passionate about. He likes the way you light up when you do so.

You grow quiet. "Sorry, that sounded stupid."

He shakes his head, resting his arm on the back of your seat. "I don't think so. I may not care for history, but I think it's sweet that you do. I mean, I'm into football. But I'm sure that, just because you're not into it, you'd never call me being on the team stupid."

You look at him. "No, I wouldn't."

He looks over the next question. "Have you ever been to any of our games?"

You shake your head. "Sports aren't really my thing."

"Not everybody comes for the actual game. Some just come to have a good time; get out of the house." He looks at you. "We have another game next Friday. Think you'd be interested?"

He can just imagine it now: you in the stands, your hair in pigtails, wearing one of his old jerseys, cheering him on. And then you running into his arms as he scores the winning touchdown, wrapping your legs around his middle as he lifts you, you bringing your lips down to his.

You telling him how proud you are of him.

You shrug, now feeling awkward at wanting to tell him no. So you don't. "Maybe."

Better than a no, he thinks. He has nearly two-weeks to convince you into a yes.

Once Nate has completed his worksheet and you've checked it for any wrong answers—he'd surprisingly only had a couple—he packs up his things to head home.

You walk him to the door. "You did really good today. Only two wrong answers."

He slips on his shoes. "Well, I have a good teacher."

You smile, letting out a small laugh. "We'll see just how good after our next test."

He clears his throat. "So uh, I was thinking, maybe I could pick you up tomorrow morning? I could start driving you to and from school as a whole. I'm sure my truck beats riding a bus twice every day."

You blanch. "N-no, it's fine, really. I don't mind. And not that you have to continue doing it, but driving me home is more than enough. I don't want to be any trouble."

He shakes his head. "No trouble. It's on my way, really. I'd like to."

He dislikes your hesitancy, even if he understands it. He knows he's coming on too strong right now, but he feels like he can't fucking help himself.

After sitting there with you for the past hour, listening to your voice, smelling your sweet scent, you blushing and laughing at the things he said—not to mention him having to excuse himself to the bathroom at one point to get the erection you'd given him to go back down—he knew he needed more of you. Afternoon study sessions weren't going to be nearly enough.

He leans against the doorway, refusing to leave until you've given him what he wants—how little do you know that's soon to be your future as a whole. Him not stopping until you've caved to him. "Listen, I'm the one who's the burden here. I know tutoring is a thing you do anyway, but not like this. I really appreciate it; you have no idea how much. This is just some small way of me trying to say thank you. Of trying to repay you."

You shift from one foot to the other. "Only if you're sure..."

"Positive."

He fishes his phone out of his pocket. "We should probably exchange numbers, just incase something comes up one morning and one of us is sick, or a I get a flat, or whatever. Or if one of us has to leave school early."

You nod. "Ok."

After you give him your number, he shoots you a text. A simple 'hi'.

You smile at him. "I got it."

He puts his phone back away, determining that today was full of small victories, bringing him a step closer to making you his. "I can pick you up a little after seven. That work for you?"

You nod, your stomach now full of butterflies again. Not because of some crush you'd suddenly developed in the last hour. No. You were worried about vile rumors being spread around the school.

You getting into his truck today, you were sure, had probably already bred one or two of the vicious things.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

You nod. "That's fine."

He gives you a smile. "See you then."

"See you," you reply as he leaves.

You watch from the front door as he drives away.

#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader) #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x y/n #euphoria x reader #nate jacobs imagine

[broflovski-brah]

what each of the boys major/minor in

note i have my own version of post covid. it’s an AU and I recognize that. What I’m doing is an AU. so. keep that in mind.

Cartman

Cartman majors in business

i mean-look at how he was in Dikinbaus. He would be really good at business. He’s really good at bribing people to buy his shit

He’s also smarter than people give him credit for. He just has no motivation.

He minors in food science.

I like to headcanon that once Liane realized she was spoiling Cartman she kinda locked in (like she did in HumanCentiPad) and teaches him how to cook.

He actually comes to enjoy it and he seemed to have some knowledge of food science beforehand so

Stan

Animal science major. You can’t convince me otherwise.

He becomes a veterinarian in the future. He works with pets, though he got a job at a zoo at some point (he hates putting animals down)

Hes really gentle with animals. He’s one of those people that thinks dogs are better than people/hj

He minors in biochemistry

I already know some of you are thinking ‘Oh WhY nOt MuSiC?’ but like…realistically I don’t think science and music would really clash together when it comes to jobs

I think he recognizes that. So he does Crimson Dawn on the side when he’s free.

Kyle

This was the toughest ngl

He majors in Psychology

I like to headcanon he becomes a therapist. He likes helping people. Hes compassionate. And no, I don’t wanna hear the ‘Oh He DoeSnT UndErStAnD dEprEsSiOn How CaN hE dO pSycH’ like he was nine at the time

I think he would be the type of person to do research on the side about mental diseases because he wants to learn

And hear me out on this. He originally wanted to major in law. I feel like his dad would be big on ‘having his oldest son carry the family name on’ but Kyle ends up not enjoying it so he drops out

He double minors in political science and philosophy

He seems very high on his morals, so I think he would find interest in philosophy, a place where he can express his moral opinions

And he’s great at debate. So I like to think he would go into political science. Not just because he likes debate but also so he can say he’s ’qualified to talk about this because he’s a minor in political science’

Kenny

Okay okay but imagine Engineer Kenny

He’s creative. He has the ideas. He has the ability. I like to think he worked a lot of odd jobs and got really into building things. And he decided he wanted to do that in his life.

I like to think he’s actually really smart. He just doesn’t really have the best home situation so he isn’t given as many opportunities as he would’ve liked.

Although I also like to think that he would buckle down in high school and actually gets into the top five for his class. He applies to pretty good schools and gets a near full ride for some of them. But anyway, I’m yapping too much

As for a minor, he, like Kyle, double minors. in accounting and math.

He wants to make sure nobody has economic issues like he had. And he has a leg up in what he does because he’s dealt with money his whole life practically.

He’s fairly good at math. Plus he’s already got a leg up, like I said.

ahe really pushes himself in college to become someone who can help people who were in the same situations as him. So he works hard and actually does good.

#south park #skipper speaks #eric cartman #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #south park headcanons #south park college au #college au #eric cartman headcanons #stan marsh headcanons #kyle broflovski headcanons #kenny mccormick headcanons

[elliespuns]

This question is simple but it’s been swirling around in my head: do you think Ellie is the type to do drugs? God, just thinking about it automatically sends excitement running through my veins lol I know, I’m messed up.

Oh, I probably disappoint you, but I don't really think she is the type. I mean, look at the dork. I know people like to romanticize her like this; I see a lot of posts and art of Ellie smoking or possibly even doing drugs. But, to be honest, I can't see it.

Not saying she would never try it. I can definitely see her trying to smoke cigarettes, for example (because she's already doing weed), but I don't think she'd be a fan of those long-term, let alone drugs. 

There's a possibility that if she lived in the modern world, she'd be prone to trying drugs under peer pressure—that I can only imagine with someone she's really close with—you know, like, "C'mon, try it. There's a first time for everything." and she'd be like, "Ugh, okay. But just this one time." or something like this, and even after that, she'd probably be like, "What is this shit? That's fucking terrible. Why do you do this to yourself?" (once she'd sober up).

I never really understood the appeal of making Ellie reckless (it's the same as when writers portray Ellie as dominant, bossy, and sometimes even violent). I guess it's something that turns people on? But honestly, it's so far from what Ellie is like (or what she would be like) if we had a chance to see her in these scenarios. I just can't see it.

I'm not saying she's a saint or even a buzzkill. All I'm saying is that she's a shy dork who loves comics, superheroes, and space. She would most likely be spending her days reading books, drawing, or hanging out with the few of her closest friends she'd have, watching movies at her or their place. I can't really imagine her partying and doing drugs. Not even in the modern world. 

Ellie is the type of person you could give your child to, and you'd know she'd take care of her or him. You'd trust her with responsibility even when you know she's a firecracker. Be it young or adult Ellie.

I believe that she wouldn't do drugs. Not saying she wouldn't try some mild ones... but to imagine canon Ellie, I say it's a big NO.

#the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #the last of us game #tlou game #the last of us part 2 #tlou part 2 #elliespuns answers

[iolaussharpe-24]

I have a new crackship.

I watched Ex Machina for the first time recently and this bugged me so much that I started trying to rationalize it immediately.

Stereotypical Barbie and Nathan Bateman.

No; the dancing isn't the only reason.

I've got a whole thing in my head, but I am WAY too underqualified to write anything.

But like, what would the interaction between these two be? I don't imagine they'd get along right away, even I'm not that delusional, but I think they'd get along really really great after a bit.

Also, I think Nathan's brain would short circut the moment he realizes that she's literally a living Barbie doll. Because: A) either something he somehow doesn't understand is going on or she's a successful AI like what he was trying to build, meaning that someone else beat him to it. Neither of which computes for him. And B) which is that this girl is way too hot to not have all the private bits. Remember, "Sexuality is fun" and he can't believe that she has none. Literally and physically.

Doesn't mean they can't be cute together though. Barbie's asexual, but that doesn't mean she has to be aromantic.

Plus, just because you might not think someone is your type doesn't mean they can't be right for you. Imagine the conversations that two people like Barbie and Nathan would have together. Imagine the existential crisis they'd both have listening to and debating with one another.

I put way too much thought into this and I'm trying not to write it all here because I don't want this to be long and I want everyone else who sees this to have fun too. So please, share my insanity and give it some thought. Imagine the situations. Let me know what you come up with.

#crackship #barbie 2023 #ex machina #margot robbie #oscar isaac #stereotypical barbie #nathan bateman #okay #i admit it #i wanna dance with them