#I always thought of greetings and calling someone’s name as the same thing

[asapeveryday]

Breath Me In

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: Smut (Fingering), weed, alcohol

Summary: Uconn’s end of summer party brings you all sorts of highs.

A/n: can you tell I like party settings??? Anyways. We need more fics of Paige receiving instead of always giving pls!! Someone please this girl!

Summer is coming to a close. Long August days turn to colder September nights, and the students of Uconn have mostly moved in for the new semester. A new year of college calls for a party.

Uconns annual end-of-summer party was an absolute staple to attend for seniors, richer students who lived in housing nearby often responsible for hosting. Summery rap and pop blasting, coolers and twisted tea by the gallons, string lights in big green backyards, patio furniture overrun by couples making out or slowly sobering up. It was a sight to behold, and you relished in the feeling of this, the beginning of the end of school.

When you make your way throughout the house, various people stop to talk to you, including the hostess herself.

Stella DeSantos is a trust fund girl who’s in her senior year for sports marketing, and this years lucky party organizer. She has the means, obviously, because the house is massive.

“So… gonna start the year off with some dick or what?” She laughs, already tipsy.

You just smile and shake your head. “I’m chill right now.” Is your reply. Honestly you just didn’t want to pull the ‘id rather have pussy’ card on her.

The girl swings an arm around you. “I could set you up with some really athletic guys if that’s your thing.” She hiccups. “Want a drink?”

She thrusts a mango white claw into your hand and you take it reluctantly. As much as you loved getting wasted the party was a bit too rowdy to feel comfortable. You were desperately searching for someone you knew well enough to hang out with that wasn’t already drunk, with no luck.

You stick by Stella for a while, standing by as she greets people and gets drunker by the minute. You’re still holding the same White-claw, though it’s mostly empty.

You’re scoping out the scene yourself, the house is filled with kids you’ve been in school with for the past years. Your gaze stops in the kitchen, where two girls reside. One tall with dark skin, hair slicked back and clothes baggy. You’d had classes with Aubrey Griffin before, she was intimidating but attractive.

The other girl was paler and slightly shorter, blonde hair tied back into a bun and glasses on her face.

“Paige!” Stella calls out, as if sensing your thoughts. She makes her way over to the two girls and you awkwardly follow behind. Everyone knows Paige Bueckers. She’s one of those students, everyone mostly likes her and she’s friends with all the right people. It puzzled you how someone so gay still attracted so many guys.

Stella talks to Aubrey and Paige, and they politely engage despite obviously being thrown off by how drunk she is. Their shared looks almost make you laugh. You take this as a chance to get a good look at Paige. She mostly stayed out of trouble or tough rumours, and kept to her main group of friends, so aside from her talent on the court you knew almost nothing.

You let yourself stare at her, noting her blue eyes, long lashes and wide smile. She carried herself confidently, but looked uncomfortable.

Finally she turns to meet your eye, and when her tongue flashes out to wet her lips you physically feel something in your stomach drop.

“You her babysitter or something?” She smirks.

“You’d think she knows how much she can handle by now.” You scoff. Stella barely notices, fully talking to Aubrey.

Paige’s eyes dart to the drink in your hand. “Good luck finding a ride home tonight.”

Before you can respond, maybe by telling her your name or sparking better conversation, Stella’s attention is drawn somewhere else and she starts to drag you away.

You turn to get one last look at Paige, and internally celebrate when your eyes meet.

-

As the summer sun finally began to set, it got a little too cold for everyone to be outside. The inside of the house was absolutely packed, the music was louder and the air was thicker. The smell of smoke and sound of people was starting to irritate you, but for whatever reason you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Stella was nowhere to be found and you were sitting on the kitchen counter next to some other girls, quietly sipping some drink while listening in to conversations. The original plan of staying mostly sober was ruined by your boredom, and though you weren’t drunk you felt significantly warmer and a little more confident.

“Oh, it’s you again.” A voice says. You turn to see it’s Paige and your heart skips a beat.

“I have a name.” You reply, not caring if you come off rude. She doesn’t seem to care either, just raising her eyebrows at you. “And it is?”

You tell her your name and she repeats it to herself with a smile. “I’m Paige.”

“I figured.” You laugh. The alcohol was making everything seem like less of a deal, had you talked to her more before you probably wouldn’t have been so casual.

“You drunk?” She asks, leaning against the counter across from you. At this angle you’re pretty much looking down at her, she looks cuter with her eyes wide and head tilted slightly upwards. You almost let your imagination get ahead of you.

“Getting there. You?”

Paige shakes her head no. “You don’t seem like much of a drinker.”

With a shrug, you say “This party is less fun than I thought it would be.”

“I’m gonna head outside if you’re tryna come.” She shrugs back.

You hop off of the counter and are reminded of the fact that Paige isn’t short. She seems happy that she’s not looking up at you anymore.

“Sure, why not.” You smile.

She leads you to the backyard and the sudden quiet is surprising. The music is muffled and the air is fresher, it’s a beautiful night and the yard is empty for the two of you. Paige heads straight for the pool, sitting down by the edge of the deep end and taking off her shoes, letting her legs dangle in the water. You join her and do the same.

“So you came to a party and you’re not drinking or getting high?” You ask her.

“Ah ah,” she smirks. “I’m getting high for sure, jus had to be a little sneaky. You can keep a secret, right?” Paige tilts her head at you, and you almost melt right there and then.

“I’m great at keeping secrets.” You eye her, tilting your head like she does. “But can all those people?” You gesture to the kids inside the house.

“Everyone in there is gonna be too drunk to remember me sneaking out for a blunt with a girl.” She finally breaks eye contact, reaching into her pocket for a tin of pre-rolled blunts.

She said ‘with a girl’ like her being with you could be a topic of conversation. The thought makes your mind race.

When Paige lights up and gets the first hit, her whole composure loosens.

The blue from the pool water reflecting onto her face, the slight glow of the blunt against her lips, the way she blows the smoke afterwards. It’s driving you insane.

You stare at your legs in the water, her pale ones next to yours. The night is beautiful. She’s beautiful. You wonder if she’ll remember anything tomorrow.

“Want sum?” Paige interrupts your thoughts, holding out the blunt. You know you shouldn’t mix weed with alcohol, but your heart is buzzing and her lips had already been on it, so you can’t say no.

Taking it from her nimble fingers (which you cursed yourself for even noticing) you inhale, letting the smoke fill you up before letting out a long breath, trying to ignore her sharp eyes on you.

“I’m surprised I haven’t noticed you around before.” She says, taking back the blunt. You let the statement linger in the air. For every hit you take, she takes three. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are already slightly pink.

“Are you not the noticing type?” You ask.

Paige’s eyes meet yours. “Are you?”

You laugh and take the blunt from her, holding the smoke in before tilting your head back and blowing it into the night sky.

“I notice a lot of things.” you say, glancing at her lips before meeting her eyes again.

“Oh yeah?” She says quietly, analyzing your features. If it weren’t for the drinks and the weed, you would’ve felt like prey under her watch.

“Yeah.” You match her tone.

She’s closer than you remember her being. The air smells like weed and chlorine, but she smells like summer.

Nobody says anything, you just keep passing the blunt.

“What was your first time getting high like?” You ask her.

“Freshman year, me and some other girls on my team decided we were gonna do it together.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Don’t know why we started with edibles, but we were still high the next morning.”

“Oh shit.” You laugh.

“Yeah,” she huffs “and we had practice that afternoon, must’ve gone through like 3 bottles of eye drops each. What about you?”

“Senior year of high school.” You cringe and she smiles at your expression. “My girlfriend- at the time, was kind of addicted. Didn’t seem like a big deal then, but she begged me to smoke and I did. It was whatever.”

“Girlfriend?” She asks.

“You’re surprised?” You chuckle. “Shit, you really don’t notice anything.”

“Shut up.” She flicks your shoulder. “Any girlfriend now?”

“Fuck no.”

“I feel that.” She blows smoke into the crisp air. There’s a moment of comfortable silence, you looking into the water and her looking at you, before she finally says “Can I try something?”

“Like what?” You ask.

You can tell her thinking is slightly hazy, she’s moving slower and her eyes are tired, it’s attractive.

“Lemme jus show you…don’t freak.”

Paige takes a hit, then leans into you. In an instance her lips are on yours, prying you open and exhaling smoke into your mouth, then she pulls away. You resist the urge to choke, but manage to exhale smoothly. Your lips tingle where she made contact with you, and you feel your face get red at her expression. Paige is practically entranced.

“Little warning would’ve been better next time.” You cough.

“We can try again if you want.” She smirks, and you roll your eyes.

Once again Paige takes a hit then leans into you, this time placing her hand on your face. She huffs the smoke inside your mouth and you gladly take it, now knowing what to expect. When she pulls away you don’t turn your head, you just blow out the smoke, letting it cloud both your vision and hers. When it clears she’s staring dead at your lips.

Her lips meet yours again, this time without any weed. She’s taking her time with you, tongue exploring your mouth attentively, one hand still on your face while the other finds your thigh.

Her hands are calloused and controlled against your skin, her glasses bump your face as you kiss her. Her lips are soft.

You let your hands wander too, dancing under her black t-shirt and gripping her waist. You can feel her abs, toned from her athletic lifestyle. You can only imagine the things you could do with her abs alone.

Her hand leaves your thigh and meets yours under her shirt, gripping your wrist she guides you to her sports bra, letting you get under it and feel her breasts.

She sighs into your mouth when you lightly pinch her nipples, her usually confident voice now almost needy.

Paige’s kisses trail down to your neck, licking and biting into your soft skin. You let your fingers ghost against her until they reach the waistband of her sweatshorts.

“Can I?” You whisper, eager to feel her.

“Fuck, yes.” She murmurs against you, sucking beautifully painted hickeys from your neck to your collarbone.

When your fingers rub her through her boxers you can hear her breathing change, and it’s doing things to you. Rubbing slow circles on her clit, you feel yourself getting wet.

“You let every girl down your pants, Paige?” You mumble. She stares up at you, eyes wide and bloodshot.

You relish in the way she bites her lip when your pace quickens, you can feel her slick through the boxer briefs and you can’t help but tease her. “So wet already…”

Finally you let your hand slip into her briefs, finding her entrance and teasing around her hole. Her hips jerk upwards, giving you room to move, offering herself to you. “Stop talking.” She grumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

You connect with her lips again as your fingers finally dip inside of her, causing her to let a soft moan out. You realize suddenly that anyone inside the house could come outside and see you two, but with all the weed and alcohol you couldn’t care less, you couldn’t stop now, not when Paige was grinding against your fingers and letting out sweet whimpers into your mouth, her hands feeling you all over.

Breaking the kiss is the best decision you make, because you can actually see her. Her face is perfect, hair falling out of her bun, glasses sliding down her nose, her expression a sexy, needy pout, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

You pick up the pace, pumping your fingers in and out of her and grinning as her whimpers get a little louder. The noise of her slick, her voice, the crickets outside and the muffled music is almost magical to you. Her blue eyes shining and glossy from the weed and the reflection of the water.

“Fuck.” She murmurs, covering her mouth. “Oh, fuck.”

Her hips are violently bucking now as you curl your fingers inside of her and use your thumb to apply pressure to her clit. Her eyes are screwed shut now, and you can tell she’s close.

“Gonna cum for me Paige? Cmon baby, let it out.”

She calls out your name, legs open and pussy throbbing against your fingers. Finally she loosens around you, reaching her orgasm.

She’s still clinging to your body and catching her breath when you pull your hand out from her shorts, licking your fingers like you’ve just finished a meal. Paige’s eyes are trained on your lips wrapped around the same digits that were just inside of her.

You just smile at her staring. “You good?” You ask her. She just chuckles and takes off her shirt. “I’m good. Might needa cool down though.” Paige eyes you as she slips into the pool.

You laugh and take your shirt off too, slipping into the cold water with her.

It’s a good night, filling your lungs with her, breathing Paige in.

#fanfic #fanfiction #paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #uconn wbb #smut #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #Paige Bueckers x reader smut #rpf #Spotify

[scuderiahoney]

Color Theory

Oscar Piastri x artist!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s an old friend of yours. This time when he comes home to visit, things get messy. Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: alcohol, mild drug use, sexual content 18+ MDNI, overuse of color descriptions

It’s summer in Australia, your favorite time of year despite the overbearing sun and the overwhelming heat. Sweat spikes on your brow, but the sunlight that pours through the windows makes you happy. The door to the back garden is open, the smell of wildflowers blowing in with the breeze. You can hear your roommates chattering in the other room. You hold a paint palette in one hand, a brush in the other. There’s something just slightly off about this piece, some part of the light you’re not capturing quite right. You step back from the painting, trying to get a better view of the whole picture.

Someone calls your name from inside. You ignore them. By the third time you hear your name, you give in, setting the palette and brush down and heading inside. You’re still wearing your apron, covered in paint marks.

Lizzy, one of your roommates, smiles at you. “How’s it going?”

You sigh heavily. “Can’t get the light right.”

She nods in understanding. “We’re ordering pizza. Oscar’s on his way. Thought I’d give you a heads up in case you decide to try painting in your underwear again.”

You laugh. “It was one time,” you say defensively. “It was hot out and I was trying to become-“

“-one with the art, I know, I know,” she teases. “Just giving you a warning!”

You lean on the counter and let out a long breath. “It’s gonna be weird, isn’t it? Him being here?”

Oscar’s an old friend of yours, and your roommates, too. Old, like preteens old. He left for the UK so long ago that you’d probably barely remember what he looked like if it weren’t for video calls and social media and now, his face being plastered everywhere. You’ve kept up, have stayed friends through it all. But it’s the first time you’ll be seeing him in person in over a year, the first time he’s ever going to visit your shared house, the first time since… since he became Oscar Piastri and not just Oscar.

Lizzy shrugs. “Only weird if we make it weird, right?”

She’s right, to a certain extent. Your other roommate, Leo, shows up with Oscar in tow, and you do your best to not be weird about it, and you think it works. He greets you and Lizzy with long hugs. He smells like sea salt and something warm. His body’s much more firm and filled out than he was the last time you saw him, which makes sense, you suppose. He still smiles like golden yellow sunshine, though, crinkled eyes and round cheeks and that near permanent blush on his face.

The pizza arrives shortly after he does, and you all settle into the living room to catch up. Oscar tells stories about racing, about his first year in F1, about his teammate and his competitors. You’ve been keeping up with the races more than you ever did before- Leo always wanted to watch but you hadn’t cared that much before it was Oscar, before the guy in the orange car was the same kid who used to finger paint with you in the backyard, your mother worried about the mess. Now you sit glued to the TV most Sundays.

In turn, you, Lizzy, and Leo update Oscar on what he’s missed. All about your family lives, your jobs, your other friends he’s lost touch with. He listens intently to each story, the way he always has.

“What are you doing for work?” He asks, nudging your knee.

You sigh dejectedly. “Nothing fun.”

He pouts. Leo elbows you and speaks up, though.

“She’s still painting, though,” he says brightly. “You should see the sunroom.”

Oscar’s face lights up. “Is that your studio? You always said you wanted a sunroom.”

He’s always been one of your biggest supporters when it comes to your art. He’s the one who’d join you in the art room at lunchtime in school, eating his lunch at one of the counters while you worked on your latest piece, unable to put the paintbrush down. He’d attended all your art shows, had bought you paints and brushes and sketchbooks for birthdays and Christmases, and had even posed for a portrait you’d been required to paint for class. He’d had a hard time sitting still for that long without falling asleep.

You nod with a smile growing on your face. “Living the dream with that one.”

The night slips away from all of you, caught up in conversations about everything under the sun. You find yourself feeling sad when Oscar goes to leave. He does it with hugs and a promise to be back in a few days. When he leaves through the front door, you feel that emptiness again, that hole that’s never healed quite right after he left.

Lizzy sees it on your face and squeezes your shoulder. “He’ll be back.”

Two days later, you’re deep in painting mode, eyes beginning to ache as you stare at the canvas in front of you, when there’s a noise from the sunroom doorway. You turn and find Oscar standing there, eyes wide, brows raised. He chews on his lip sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. You hold back a laugh. “Leo said to come over and just let myself in, and I heard a noise, and- sorry-“

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, tilting your head and smiling. “Leo should’ve told you, he ran to the store for drinks.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, and his shoulders drop. “Right.”

“You’re welcome to hang out, though,” you say, nodding at the chair off to the side in the sunroom. “Don’t want you getting bored all by yourself.”

He hesitated. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

He never would have questioned it before. He would’ve already been sitting, would’ve already known what you were painting, would’ve helped you get your palette set up. It’s different now. He’s been gone a while.

You jut your chin towards the chair again and wave a paintbrush in that direction. “Please. You’ve never been a bother.”

He was always the only one of your friends that you allowed to watch you paint. He knew when to stay quiet, and when you needed the background noise of his voice, without ever having to ask. He shuffles over to the chair and sits down. Oscar’s gaze dances through the room with wide eyes, and when you turn back to the canvas, you can feel him watching intently.

“What do you think?” You ask, just to break the silence. You gesture at the paintings lined up around the room. “Have my skills improved?”

He lets out a slow breath. “They’re amazing,” he says, and your heart twists in your chest. “I’m so glad you kept up on it. That you didn’t lose your… you know. Passion. Sounds cheesy, but I mean it.”

You nod. Most of your friends and family had spent your teenage years trying to convince you to learn any skill other than art. You’d continued pouring yourself into the paintings. Oscar had been one of your only cheerleaders through it all.

“It’s not easy,” you admit. “Bills and shit, you know? Real adult stuff. But I’ve been trying to get into some galleries recently. I don’t know if it’ll ever be something I can make a living off of, but I’ve gotta try.”

Oscar nods in understanding. “How about when I win my first championship, I’ll make good on my promise?”

You laugh. There’d been a night just before he’d left for the UK where the two of you had stayed up late, out far past curfew at the local park. You’d laid under a tree next to him, giddy on the high of breaking the rules and the late hour. He’d told you all about his big dreams. About F1 and championships and how he was going to make it big. And when you’d asked if he’d remember you, he’d smiled and turned his head towards you, eyes wide in the pale moonlight, nose nearly touching yours.

“I’ll use my money and open a gallery,” he’d promised. “And I’ll fill it with all of your paintings.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “Even the bad ones?”

He’d nodded, so seriously. “Especially the bad ones.”

Now he sits next to you in your makeshift studio, so close to reaching his dreams. You can only hope you’ll get there, too, someday.

There’s a party at your house that night. There’ll be more people there than usual, wanting to talk with Oscar and taking up his time. But for now there’s just you and him in the studio you’ve always wanted, the one you talked about under the tree in the park. You’ll take what you can get.

Oscar finds you later at the party, in the back corner of the backyard. The sun is nearly gone, the last bits of daylight slipping away. When he walks up, you’re leaning back in an outdoor armchair, and you smile hazily up at him and hold out the joint you’d been smoking.

He shakes his head. You pout.

“I get drug tested,” he says, and you suppose that’s understandable. “And I think my trainer would kill me over the lung damage.”

“It’s just once,” you friend says next to you, “can’t do that much damage.”

“Oscar’s a high performance athlete,” you tease.

Someone finishes the infamous Daniel Ricciardo quote for you, complete with the sound effects. You’re not really listening, more focused on how Oscar rolls his eyes as he sits down on the arm of the chair. You tilt your head to look up at him.

The late sun is hitting the bridge of his nose, a bright orange band against his freckled skin. He blinks at you with thick lashes, and you wonder how you’d capture the look on his face with paint- the softness of his cheeks, the care that sits heavy on his browbone, the restlessness in the curve of his mouth. You don’t like to do portraits- Oscar’s one of few people you’ve painted, but it was years ago. He was a skinny kid with a bad haircut. Now his jawline is chiseled and sharp, and his hair falls over his forehead in a soft swoop. He's pretty.

He cocks his head at you. You’ve been staring too long. You force a giggle and nudge his knee. He laughs right back.

You’re not sure how he ends up squished into the chair with you, his arm over your shoulder, his bare thigh pressed to yours. You think maybe it was your doing- you grabbed his arm, pulled him until he sunk in next to you. The sun is gone, now, the evening chill taking over, and it’s nice to have him next to you, keeping you warm. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head.

“You can go, you know,” you say quietly. Most of your friends have abandoned the corner you’re in, moving to the lit back deck, or the firepit area. You and Oscar have stayed put, though.

“D’you want me to go?” He asks.

You shake your head. He laughs. “I just don’t wanna take up all your time,” you say with a shrug.

His fingers play with the ends of your hair. “I’m right where I want to be.”

You curl in closer to him. You’re right where you want to be, too.

Eventually, the two of you rejoin the group. He stays glued to your side most of the night, though. His shoulder presses against yours, and in turn, you lean against him. He grows quieter as the night goes on. That’s when you remember that his time spent with you while you were painting wasn’t just for your benefit. He’d been a quiet kid- popular, but easily exhausted by socializing. He’d liked the solitude and comfort of the art room nearly as much as you had.

In the backyard full of your old friends, he seems content to stay stuck on you. When he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, you wiggle one of yours in alongside his, hoping you’re not crossing a line. Or maybe, really, you’re hoping it’s a line he wants you to cross. When he knits your fingers together, you sigh happily.

People leave one by one, with hugs for Oscar and promises to watch the next season. He says goodbye to them and then returns quickly to your side. Soon enough, Lizzy shuffles off to bed, and then Leo stretches and does the same, and it’s just you and Oscar. You hide a yawn. You don’t want to go to bed, not yet.

He squeezes your shoulder, his arm around your back, now. He has his cheek pressed against your temple. For a moment, you wonder if you could stay stuck to him long enough to keep him here. If eventually, the two of you would fuse together. That’s probably just your wavering high speaking. He mumbles something into the side of your head. You break from your staring at the coals and make a noise of confusion.

“Missed you,” he says. “Sorry I haven’t…”

This feels like too heavy a conversation to have now, when things have felt so good and warm all night. You know it’s coming at some point, but you’ll avoid it all costs. You turn further into him and wrap an arm around his middle, and let your eyes fall closed.

“I missed you too,” you say, rubbing your thumb against his rib cage through his sweatshirt.

The two of you sit quietly for a few moments. Then, you say, “you know, I still have that portrait I did of you. How many races d’you think you need to win before I can make some money off that?”

He laughs into your hair. His hand has fallen to your side now, and he squeezes- you nearly gasp at the feeling. “I was a scrawny baby in that painting. Nobody wants to buy that.”

You giggle against him. “You were a cute scrawny baby, though.”

It’s not something you would have said all those years ago. You’d have never been caught dead admitting that you thought he was cute. But now… in the safety of the backyard, in the darkness, pressed against his side…

“You’re cuter now, though,” you say.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You nod confidently. He slips his other hand from his pocket. It comes up to hold your jaw, gently. You hold your breath. He tilts your face up towards his.

“You’re prettier than ever,” he says, softly. “And I thought you reached the limit a long time ago.”

His lips are on yours within seconds, then. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you. By now, you know it probably won’t be the last. You let it happen, opening up for him. You slip your tongue past the warmth of his lips. His hand cups the side of your face as that warm feeling melts across your skin, the one that only he brings. You’ve been searching for a replacement since the last time this happened. Nothing comes close.

He uses the arm around you to pull you into his lap. You reach up and thread your fingers into his shirt, something to anchor you in the swirling feeling of him on and around and against you again. His hands fall to your hips, trying to do the same. He kisses like Australian summers, hot and long and sunny and bright orange. His touch leaves sparks behind everywhere he goes.

When you finally break away for air, his hair is a mess, and your lips feel puffy. He grins sheepishly at you. You chew on your lower lip as he brushes a finger over the arch of your cheek.

“Sorry,” he says. Always apologizing. You know he’s not sorry for kissing you. He’s sorry for how this will eventually end.

“Don’t be,” you say, quietly. “Please. Let’s just…”

He nods, then swallows before he says, “okay.”

Then he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your temple. You giggle at the feeling and let your fingertips dance against his face and neck. He muffles another laugh into your skin.

“Missed you,” you say again.

“I missed you too,” he says.

He walks you inside. You think about inviting him to stay the night, but you think that might be a bad idea. Instead, you give him a hug and watch him walk out the front door, into the only black and blue night.

…..

You meet up with him and a few other friends at a bar a couple nights later. You walk over from your house with Lizzy, who either doesn’t notice your nervous energy, or is nice enough to just not mention it. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s the people you’ve known for years, and it’s just Oscar. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Except for the still fading hickey he left on your neck, covered by strategically placed hair, and the way you feel his lips on your every time you close your eyes. Yeah. There’s that, sure.

The bar is crowded even before all of your friends arrive. Oscar comes in with Leo, having been out all day while you and Lizzy had to work. There are at least five people there who are acting like they haven’t seen Oscar in years, even though they were all at the party a few nights ago. You try your best to hide your jealousy. He has other friends. He probably likes them way more than he likes you, anyways.

He finds you later, standing at the bar, waiting to order a drink. He’s just- there, all of the sudden, warm shoulder pressed to yours, elbows on the countertop. He smiles softly at you when you turn to him, and he leans into you.

“Hi,” he says. “I was looking for you.”

You want to laugh, because surely he wasn’t, but- there’s something so serious in his eyes. You lean into him in response, just to watch him raise his brows and smile wider. There’s a little mole on the swell of his cheek. You want to reach out and touch it. You refrain.

“I’m here,” you finally say, nodding towards your crowd of friends in the corner. “You’ve been a busy man tonight.”

He sighs, heavily, like it’s been difficult for him. It probably has been. He’s a quiet person in general. Not one to really like being the center of attention. You wonder if he’s exhausted as easily by it now as he was before, or if his years of podium celebrations have dulled the sensation a bit. Wonder how much of your Oscar is still left, under the facade.

He chews on his lower lip lightly, and you smile softly. That’s an old habit. That’s one you recognize. You also think of the night by the firepit, how you’d pulled that same lip between your own teeth, and the noise he’d made in response. Your face grows warm.

The bartender finally turns to you. Oscar orders for both of you, because of course he knows what you’re drinking. Then you follow him back to the crowd of your friends. When he grabs your hand to pull you along, you don’t complain. You just squeeze his fingers in response.

You stumble out of the bar with him, hand in hand, hours later. He’s insistent on walking you and Lizzy home, claiming that Leo won’t be enough to keep an eye on the both of you. You’re just happy to have his fingers locked with yours, to have his shoulder brushing against you as you both sway down the sidewalk. It’s comfortably warm outside, and you hum to yourself as you walk, listening to Lizzy and Leo arguing about nothing important.

Your journey home is stopped by Oscar, who stops in his tracks suddenly. You turn back to look at him. He’s staring across the street, where there’s a neon sign lit up in the window, the word Pizza flashing like a beacon. You laugh as he tugs on your hand.

“No, come on, we’re going home,” Lizzy calls out.

“I want pizza,” Oscar says in response, deadpan.

You turn to your roommates and shrug. “He wants pizza.”

Lizzy sighs. “I want to go home.”

“You guys go,” Oscar says with a dismissive wave. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Less than ten minutes later, your legs are stuck to the vinyl of the pizza parlor booth, knee bumping Oscar’s underneath the table. There’s a pepperoni pizza between the two of you, far too much for you to actually finish.

“Yknow,” he says, waving a piece of pizza around in the air. “Logan dips his pizza in ranch.”

You laugh at the disgusted look on Oscar’s face, at the way he says ranch. You take a sip of the soda he insisted on buying for you, along with the food.

“Bet it’s good,” you admit, shrugging.

Oscar wrinkles his nose. “I’m not a picky eater, but… isn’t pizza good enough on its own?”

You shrug, pretending to think deeply about it. Except that Oscar knows you well enough to know you’re pretending, so he starts laughing. And then you follow suit, doubled over in the booth, grease from the pizza on your fingertips.

As his laughter fades, he presses his knee against yours. It feels deliberate.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he says.

Something twists in your chest. “Missed you, too, Osc.”

Your friendship goes through cycles. When he’s here, it’s almost like nothing has changed. But when he’s gone… the two of you aren’t good at long distance friendship. Or maybe, really, you’re better at it than most. You can go months without talking and pick up like nothing has changed. The tough part comes when he’s here, within reach, and then he leaves. That’s the moment you dread, the part you don’t handle well. It would probably be easier if you stopped kissing him every time he came home. But you look across the table, and his lips are soft and cherry pink and slightly shiny from the pizza, and you know that would be impossible.

“I’ve missed you too,” you say, because you know he needs to hear it even if he already knows it. “I was worried that maybe now that you’re in F1, you’d gotten too important for… us.”

You really mean me, but it feels a bit too much to say out loud. You think he knows, anyways. He reaches a hand across the table, lays it over top of yours. There’s a sad smile on his face.

“I could never,” he says, eyes drilling right into yours. “Promise.”

He walks you home, hand in hand. The front porch light is on, probably Lizzie’s doing. He insists on coming all the way up to the front door, which is sweet and does absolutely awful things to your brain. Because he’s right there, his hand in yours, and you’re fumbling for your house key in your purse, but really you’re thinking about kissing him. When his fingers squeeze yours, you give up on the key and turn to him.

He knows it’s coming, you think. When you cup his face in your hand, he’s already leaning in.

The kiss is softer, messier, than the other night. You’re both still a little tipsy. But it’s less frantic, more comfortable. His other hand falls to your hip, and you lean back against the front door to your house and melt into him. He presses against you, warm, firm muscle against every curve of your body. You don’t want this to end. You want to wrap your arms around his neck and beg him to stay right here, to never leave, to come back to you.

He pulls away first. You try to kiss him again, hands tugging at his hips as he pants through reddened lips.

“You’re drunk,” he mumbles.

You shake your head no. “Not that drunk.”

He leans in close and kisses your cheek. “This is a bad idea.”

That makes your gut twist, makes your chest hurt. You roll your eyes and turn away so he won’t see the way your tears well up. He’s right, you know, but it hurts to hear it.

“I care about you. A lot,” he says, quietly. “And I… if things were different…”

“I know,” you say, because you do know. “Yeah. Bad idea. You should go.”

You leave him standing on the porch and disappear inside the house. When you lay down in bed, you lay awake for hours, swirls of color dancing behind your eyelids.

…..

The next night, you find yourself in your studio, alone. There’s paint on the canvas in front of you- not the good stuff you’d normally use, but the cheap kind you keep on hand for moments like these. Children’s finger paint, runny and thin and non-toxic. It’s running down the palette and dripping down your wrist. You’re in a pair of shorts and a sports bra, and frankly, you’d probably be wearing less if you didn’t know your roommates were due home eventually.

Oscar’s leaving tomorrow morning. At this point, the last you’ll see of him for a while will be when you left him on the porch. You swipe a bit of blue on the canvas. You’re not really painting anything, just trying to put color to the feelings. He’s leaving and he’ll be gone for a while again, and things are weird again, because he kissed you and then you kissed him and now he has to leave. You add a swipe of orange. Papaya, you think, gritting your teeth.

You wonder if things really would’ve been different. If he’d stayed, would you be together? Would he love you the way you want him to? Maybe. Or maybe, no matter the universe, this is how it ends. Maybe there’s always a bigger dream waiting. Maybe you’re not enough for him.

There’s a knock on the door. There’s red paint on your fingertips.

“Busy,” you call out.

Someone sighs. You freeze, hand halfway to the canvas. It doesn’t sound like Lizzy or Leo.

“It’s me,” Oscar says. “Can I come in?”

You huff. “Sure.”

He opens the door and blinks owlishly at the sight of you. You know you probably look crazy. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. The silence is deafening. Paint runs off the palette and onto your leg.

“Rough day?” He asks, because he knows.

You laugh bitterly. “You could say that, yeah.”

“I’m-“

“Don’t apologize,” you say with a sigh. “I’m not sorry.”

“No?”

“No,” you say. “I’m just… frustrated.”

Frustrated that he gets to live out his dream while you wither away in the hot Australian sun, waiting for your chance. Frustrated that every time he comes back it sends you into a tailspin. Frustrated that he’s leaving again. Frustrated with yourself for kissing him, frustrated that you want to do it again.

He crosses the room and stands next to you. You watch his shaky fingers drag through the mess on the palette. Then he reaches out and drags them through the mess on the canvas. He’s the only one you’d let do that, the only one who’d be brave enough to even try.

You follow suit, dip a finger in the yellow and smear it in a line over the canvas. Oscar’s finger falls to your wrist, scoops the bright blue from your skin and draws a squiggle with it. Cadmium Yellow and Phthalo Blue mix on the canvas and turn into envy green. Oscar dips his hand into the Cobalt Violet and draws a line of it up your arm like a bruise. You laugh and pick up the Ultramarine Blue to match the empty feeling in your chest. It leaves behind rivers on his cheeks when you hold his face in your hand and kiss him. Gently, first, and then with all the color you can muster up. You drop the palette on the floor. It splatters everywhere.

You wonder how you’d go about painting this. Red for the brush of his tongue, the bite of his teeth against your neck. Blue for the way his fingers dig into your hips. Bright pink for the way he moans into your mouth, breathy and broken and oh-so-lovely. The way you drop to your knees is lavender purple. The feeling of him heavy on your tongue, the way he sighs over it, is sunflower yellow.

He gets paint in your hair when he pulls you off of him, and then he sinks to his knees with you. You think about suggesting the couch, but then he’s pulling you all the way down onto the floor and you can’t bring yourself to protest. He cleans the paint from his hands first, always a gentleman. Then his fingers slip into you in a rush of an orangey-yellow feeling, one that turns more and more pink with each press of his hand, each swipe of his thumb against your clit. And when he finally presses his cock into you, it’s the brightest burst of sky blue behind your eyelids.

The colors melt together in your mind. You’d never be able to put this onto a canvas- not the way he breathes so heavy in your ear, the way his fingers drag against your skin, the way you shake as you clench around him and he spills himself inside of you. There’s no way you’d get the color right.

You drag him upstairs afterwards, both of you giggling, and you gasp when you hear the front door open just as you pull him into your bedroom. You head for the attached bathroom first, drag him under the hot spray of water and watch the rainbow mix into brown and wash away down the drain. There’s paint crusted in his hair and yours- you do your best to scrub it out as he leans heavily against you.

You don’t even bother asking if he wants to stay. You just drag him to the bed and toss him a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants you think are Leo’s. He doesn’t question it. You can hear your roommates downstairs talking. You wonder if they know.

Oscar flops onto the bed and reaches for you, tugging at the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. You go easily, willingly, eagerly. He wraps you up in his arms and presses his face into your neck.

“I…” he starts, then cuts himself off.

“I know,” you murmur, because you do. “Me too.”

I love you. I wish it was different. I would stay if I could. I’ll miss you.

You wake up in the morning to his lips against your cheek. You drag yourself out of bed to walk him to the door. Your chest aches, and the feeling is a color that you can’t quite put your finger on. Someone’s there to pick him up and take him to the airport, take him far away for a long time.

He kisses you on the forehead and squeezes your shoulder. “I’ll see you soon,” he promises.

You nod and lean up to kiss his cheek. “Yeah. See you soon.”

The ache he leaves behind is a muddy mix of all your favorite colors.

…..

Six months later, you stand in an art gallery full of people. Your paintings hang on the wall nearby. You sip your drink and try to pretend like you’re not waiting and watching their every little reaction. Like you’re not searching for validation in the faces of strangers.

It’s strange to have these paintings hung up for everyone to see. When others look at them, they see pretty landscapes or flowers or a simple still life. They don’t know the meaning of it all.

You step away to grab another drink, something to quell the anxiety rising in your chest. When you come back, the one person who might just see through the facade is standing there, staring, wide eyed.

You swallow tightly and walk up next to him, and let your shoulder bump into his. “You made it.”

Oscar’s eyes stay trained on the paintings, but he leans into you. “Of course I made it.”

You want to tell him that there’s no of course here, that you’d invited him without really expecting him to show up. You keep your mouth shut though. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he is here.

“What do you think?” You ask, quietly.

The truth is, of all the people in the gallery, his opinion is the one that matters most. You wonder what he sees when he looks at the canvases. Does he see the rays of sunlight on a table for what they truly are- a poor recreation of the sun on his skin? Does he realize that the deep purple of the plums in the still life matches the bruise on your knee that lasted for weeks after that night in the studio, the one you’d press your thumb into when your heart ached? There’s the painting of the orange lilies, color matched to the papaya of his car and race suit. There’s a painting of an empty table setting, a painting of a wide open blue sky over the backyard, and most telling of all, there’s the fabric study of his t-shirt, left behind, draped over the chair in the studio.

The collection is the closest thing to a portrait that you’ve done in years, even though there are no people in it. It’s the closest thing to a self portrait that you’ve ever done. Does he know?

His hand brushes against your elbow. He points at the empty plate on the empty table. “That’s how leaving felt for me, too, you know.”

You could cry, just knowing he understands. Instead, you nod and lean into him. You have people to talk to, art critics to impress and studio owners to try to convince, but the truth is that Oscar will always be the only one who truly understands. You stay with him for just a moment longer.

He stays the whole time, even as people begin to leave and the catering staff starts clearing the tables of food and drinks. You find him after you’ve had the last of your conversations with the important people. He’s standing near the door, looking only slightly out of place, scrolling on his phone.

“You didn’t have to stay the whole time,” you say.

He shrugs and smiles. “I know. I wanted to. There’s a pub down the street, it’s one of my favorites. D’you have time for a drink?”

You nod and pout. “Maybe some food too? M’starving.”

He nods eagerly in agreement. He leads you out of the gallery, holds the door for you and everything. The cool London night air hits you like a blast as you step outside.

Right. You’re not in Australia.

It’s a strange feeling, being here with Oscar- his chosen home for all these years, and yet it’s the first time you’re seeing it with him. He reaches for your hand on the sidewalk and tucks it into his jacket pocket, right alongside his. The pub isn’t far- when you get there, it’s crowded and warm, and he helps you slip your jacket off your shoulders. You smile at him in thanks. When he smiles back, your heart skips a beat.

Ten minutes later, you’re at the bar, beers in front of each of you and a pile of chips between the two of you. Your knee is pressed against his under the countertop. He’s smiling at you, his face lit up golden yellow in the inky gray light of the bar.

“So. What did you really think?” You ask, leaning towards him.

He shakes his head, almost disbelievingly. “The same thing I always think. Your paintings are amazing. It was like I could feel it, you know? Like I’m staring at, I dunno, fucking plums, but feeling something completely different.”

You nod, chest feeling tight. You’re unsure of what to even say. How to explain to him that maybe he’s the only one who feels that, because all the paintings are about him. You think of the portrait you did all those years ago, sitting in your storage, and how it doesn’t even begin to do him justice.

“How much?” He asks, and you blink widely. “I wanna buy them. I want- yeah.” He has this dreamy, hazy look on his face. “Can I buy them? Or even just one-“

“Osc,” you murmur. You reach out and press your hand over his on the countertop. “You don’t have to do that.”

He tilts his head at you, and when he speaks, his voice is almost raw. “I meant what I said, you know. The plate. That’s how I’ve felt. All of the art, it’s… you know.”

“I know,” you say. “But they’re not for sale.”

He deflates. You squeeze his hand and try not to grin too widely. “Right,” he says. “No, of course, sorry. Just thought it might be cool to have some of them in my apartment. We could get prints made, right?”

“Sure. “ you pause and take a deep breath. “The gallery wants to extend them,” you say, and his face lights up again. “The curator spoke to me after the show. She wants to keep them up for a few months.”

“That’s amazing,” he gushes, leaning over and pulling you into a hug so tight it almost topples you off the barstool. “Oh, wow, baby, that’s- and I could go see them, then, even when you’re gone?”

You laugh against his chest. “Yeah. Sure. Or, um…”

He freezes, the hand that had been sweeping up your back stuck in place. He’s holding his breath. You might be too.

“They offered me an artist’s residency,” you blurt out. “They want me to come stay for six months, maybe longer if it goes well. Work out of their studio, show art, teach some classes.”

Oscar’s voice is breathy and high pitched when he says, “here?”

You nod against his chest. “I mean. I’d have to find an apartment. And move all my stuff. And probably break Leo and Lizzy’s hearts.”

“But you’d be here,” he says. “Here, like… it took me twenty minutes to get here tonight. And you’d- this is what you’ve dreamed of, isn’t it?”

You nod, eyes burning with tears. “Would that be okay?”

Oscar laughs- you feel it more than hear it, in the shake of his shoulders and the rumble in his chest. “Yeah. I could live with that, I think.”

He kisses you in the bar, nearly pulls you off the stool with the force of it. You kiss him right back, bracing your hand on the countertop, not a care in the world who sees it. Fireworks light up behind your eyes like splashes of paint.

…..

There’s not a sunroom you can turn into a studio in your new apartment in London. It’s a smaller space, and you end up doing most of your painting at the main studio anyways. But Oscar is there, perched on the edge of a table watching you paint whenever he can. And in the entryway of your new place, you hang up the old portrait of him, right next to a photo of the two of you taken just after you moved to London.

In the photo, his arm is around your shoulders, his lips against your temple. He’d asked you to be his girlfriend officially seconds after it was taken, but there’s a light in both of your eyes that tells you it was inevitable, really. It’s something in the way he’s smiling, in the way his cheeks burn red and his lips are pink and the way you smile at him, too. Like you’ve both known it all along. That the two of you have always been complementary colors, just waiting for the right moment.

a/n: been working on this one for a while finally got it! hope you enjoyed thanks for reading!

Taglist: @4-mula1 @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1

#oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri friends to lovers #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri oneshot #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fic #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one x reader #formula one fanfic #formula one oneshot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #x reader #honeywrites #op81

[angelltheninth]

Honkai Star Rail Men + Fake Marriage

Paring: Blade, Caelus, Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Sampo, Welt x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, confession, feelings realization, mission cover, jealousy, possessiveness, kissing, PDA, grinding, keeping quiet, pining, fake marriage

A/N: I'm gonna keep writing my favorite tropes until I run out of them.

Blade won't ever admit to really loving you, not even when he starts too. He will think of you as his, he will let everyone know of your marriage, but he will never say that he loves you. A fake marriage is good enough for him, he got someone by his side, real or fake it doesn't really matter, as long as you're the one who comes home to him every night and falls into his kiss, his arms and his bed.

Caelus catches feelings very early on in your marriage and tries to keep them a secret. He's pretty good at it at first, only doing the things expected but little by little he starts to kiss you when you're alone, to hold your hand as you sit on the couch, to let himself doze off after missions and dream about you. Its very hard to resist falling in love with. But should you? This was supposed to be temporary, when did this become so real, when did your kisses, your looks, your hugs turn into this wonderful exchange of feelings?

Dan Heng feels like a fake marriage is perfect to maintain his peaceful, or as peaceful as can be, life. You're friends so naturally he would ask you, and people have been saying you look like a couple anyway so hand holding and kissing in public wasn't that big of a leap. For the people around you. For you... it couldn't be worse. Pining over him was one thing, you could do that until you died, but having to pretend to be his wife was a whole other thing that you weren't ready for until that first morning where he bashfully greeted you with a kiss because that's what a good husband needs to do. Real or fake he will be the best husband you could ever have.

Gepard married you so he wouldn't need to marry someone he dislikes just to keep up appearances. You were a good choice, a childhood friend, a pretty woman, and a longtime mutual crush. Of course you were both clueless about that last part. It took a few months of awkwardness for you to settle into these new roles, for you to get used to being introduced as his wife. He seemed to take so much pride in that, always lighting up when he talked about you. It wasn't a lie, not a single word, which he admitted to only when you confronted him about his jealousy of other nobles acting too flirty towards you. The kiss that followed was unlike the chase ones you shared until now, full of promise, a real one this time, to be yours.

Jing Yuan thought it was a good way to make sure you don't get threatened by his many enemies. No one would lay a finger on his wife, no matter how crazy they were, they knew his wrath. He was very flirty towards you the whole time, calling you his wife every chance he got, enjoying how you'd blush when he'd kiss you in public and practically yell that you're his wife. You weren't though and that truth hurt. He could see it too. His second proposal came as a complete shock one heated night, when he couldn't hold back his lust any longer. You laughed, thinking he forgot about your arrangement. He didn't, he just wants you to be his in every way.

Luocha agrees because it would be an easy way to explain why you're traveling together and why you only need one room at every inn you go to. Its much less of a haste, a lot more of a heartache when you sleep in the same bed every night, sharing secrets and even fears and waking up entangled, having to remind yourselves that this is still fake. It was so easy until the kiss, until you climbed on top of him and moaned his name while you ground your hips against his. From then on it all became all too real.

Sampo marries you for a mission. That was really it, he needed a partner and it just so happened to be you. It was easy enough to make people think it was true, you knew each other for a while, you'd been partners before, this was... just another role to play. Right? So why did he hate it when you got flirty? It was for intel, for the mission. Yet he saw it fit to drag you away and kiss you breathless, scolding you for almost ruining their cover. What kind of a wife would flirt with others? For this to work you need to be only his. In that case he better make sure people know it, you taunt him, biting his neck, telling him to bite back if he dares. Oh he does, not just your neck either.

Welt doesn't look too much into the fake marriage. If anything its a good way to get his friends and teammates off his back for being old and alone. Now he can say he's happily married to the woman of his dreams. Well as happily as one can be when you're quietly really in love but can't say it without risking ruining what you have. Luckily for you he often gets home really late and tired, when his shields are low and his true feelings come out into the open, when he snuggles into your embrace and tells you how lucky of a guy he is that you said yes to someone like him, how he will make this real some day, just give him a little time.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #blade x reader #caelus x reader #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #luocha x reader #sampo x reader #welt x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr jing yuan #blade x you #caelus x you #dan heng x you #gepard x you #jing yuan x you #luocha x you #sampo x you #welt x you #hsr headcanon #hsr imagine #hsr fluff #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail headcanon #hsr x female reader #honkai star rail x female reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr blade x reader

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Another

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: You go with your brothers to a bar, but things turn sideways when a stranger won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: creepy guy, scared reader, protective Sam and Dean

Another hunt. Another town. Another bar.

After you guys had moved into the bunker, some stupid, stupid part of you thought that maybe some things would change. But some things would always be the same.

You didn’t mind the hunting, you really didn’t. You didn’t want to do it, and you wished your brothers had a safer life, but you understood at least. They helped people, and that was everything.

But you hated this; being in a town full of strangers in a bar full of people much older than you, huddling in a corner waiting for your big brothers. There was nothing like not belonging while being surrounded by drunk, adult strangers.

Usually, the adults would stare at you like you were an alien for a moment or two, then ignore you. Young teens weren’t common in bars, but it wasn’t interesting enough to keep them from their good times.

This time, something was different. A man near the bar had been staring at you ever since you walked in the door. You had even gone to the other side of the bar to avoid him, but he followed. He hadn’t approached you, but he wouldn’t stop staring. Since he’d yet to go near you, you didn’t see a reason to bother Sam and Dean about it.

But he was starting to freak you out, so you found yourself trying to locate Sam or Dean in the crowded bar.

“Hey.”

You were so distracted looking for your brothers that you hadn’t seen the man approaching.

“Name’s Greg,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you muttered, still glancing around for Sam and Dean.

“What’s a sweetheart like you doing here alone?” Greg asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“‘M not—“ You were squirming in your seat now, and Sam and Dean were nowhere to be seen. “—not alone.”

“Now don’t be nervous.” Greg took the seat next to you and scooted it closer so that his knee was touching yours. You tried to scoot back, but you chair was already against the wall. You couldn’t go back, and Greg was angled in such a way that if you got up, he was blocking any easy exit.

“I have to find my brothers,” you said, deciding to risk it and stand up, attempting to squirm past the man.

Your whole body stiffened as though someone had dropped an ice cube down your back. Greg, still sitting in his own chair, and grabbed your leg right above your knee when you stood. His fingers were curled, gripping you much too tightly.

“Hey now,” he said, trying to keep up the sweet tone but sounding annoyed. “No need to rush off.” His fingers slackened their grip, but once he let go he stood, towering over you much too closely. And then the hand that was on your knee was on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin near your neck.

“I-I have to—“ your voice caught in your throat when his grip tightened painfully.

“No you don’t,” he all but commanded. “Just stay right here with me, nobody’s gonna miss you.” He shifted forward until all you could see was him. Your back was up against the wall; you had nowhere to go.

“Please don’t—“

“Hey!”

As soon as Greg had appeared, he was gone, and in his place stood the men you’d been so desperate to find.

Dean was shoving Greg toward the exit, and Sam was right there with him until you called out for him.

Sam turned hesitantly, leaving Dean to deal with the creep as he rushed to you and began to examine you.

“Did he hurt you?” Sam demanded.

You shook your head even as you rubbed your sore shoulder. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, who pulled aside your sleeve just enough to see the bruises already forming near your neck. His jaw ticked, and he turned to go after Greg, but you grabbed onto his sleeve to keep him near you.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded, and he relented immediately. The moment his arms wrapped around your shoulders, you all but melted into him. The adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins since the moment the man laid his hands on you now felt like a foreign substance pulsing in you, clogging your lungs and burning your eyes and making your knees weak. Your big brother held your weight up effortlessly, rubbing your back and breathing with exaggerated slowness as an example for you to slow your own ragged, racing breaths.

“You’re ok, you’re ok,” he breathed over and over again. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”

“Hey.” Dean’s voice had you peaking out from the safety of Sam’s arms. He was standing next to you now, his knuckles suspiciously bruised and bloodied. “Hey, you ok sweetheart?”

You nodded weakly, still resting against Sam. Dean pulled his jacket off and draped it against your shaking shoulders, and the familiar weight and scent washed over you and seemed to abate the adrenaline in your system, at least a little. You took a slow, deep breath that matched Sam’s.

“Let’s get you to the Impala, ok?” Sam suggested gently. You nodded, and Sam kept his arm around your shoulder as the brothers ushered you out. There wasn’t a moment when you weren’t completely surrounded by their protective presence.

Sam guided you into the back of the Impala before joining Dean in the front seats.

Dean glanced back at you every few seconds in the rearview mirror.

“How’s it going back there?”

“‘M ok,” you mumbled, and Dean’s eyebrows curved downward as his mouth retreated into a thin line.

“Ok,” he sighed, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

It didn’t take long to reach the motel, and once the three of you were settled inside Sam spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head quickly, bringing your legs up to your chest and hugging your knees.

“I’m fine,” you said shakily. “He just—he got a little pushy…and grabby.”

“Grabby?” Dean gritted his teeth. “I knew I should’ve hit him harder.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” you sighed.

“Ok, ok.” Dean rubbed his face. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault,” you said quickly. “It’s not—it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes it is,” Dean insisted. “And it’s not going to happen again. Either me or Sam is gonna be with you next time, we’re not gonna leave you alone again, ok?”

You nodded. “Ok, that…that sounds good. In case there’s another time.”

“There’s not gonna be another time,” Sam said, pulling you into his arms. “We’re gonna be there. Always.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale

#dean winchester #the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader

[kaiyaamin]

Can I request any headcanon or Oneshot of Batmom calling the Batfamily by their names? Batmom always calls them nicknames (sweetie, babybird or somenthing), so the Battys think she's upset.

Sorry if it's written wrong or it is not understood!! My main language is not English 😓😓

sure I would love to.

NICKNAMES

Early in the morning, Batmom lies there in her bed staring at the wall. At 6 in the morning, no one was awake except for the infamous Batman sitting next to her.

Honey, what's wrong why are you up? To Bruce, it was very unusual to see her up early for she had a habit of sleeping till 10 in the morning.

Nothing Bruce, and Batmom stood up from her bed and left to the bathroom.

SHIT, SHIT! what did I do?

that's all he could think because she NEVER called him Bruce unless she was upset at him. He thinks of all the things he had done the latest skipping a gala and lying to her about an emergency when he was really hanging out with Superman and Wonderwomen.

Batmom came out of the bathroom and left towards the kitchen. There Tim sat at the table with a huge cup of coffee in his hand. He expected a hi or hello but nothing just an awkward silence.

Hey Mom, but she grunted and said hi Tim.

OH MY GOSH, Tim was in complete panic, forgetting about his coffee. She always calls me Timmy, Fuck what did he do?

Finally, Dick comes and sees Tim in complete panic. What's wrong with you?

All Tim does is point. To Dick's shock, he points at his mother. Dick thought nothing of it and greeted his mom and gave her a hug like every morning. But to his surprise, His mom didn't greet him back nor return the hug.

Mama, are you okay? I am fine Dick

What where's my nickname. Dick looks at Tim and Tim just looks completely horrified. He sees his mom leave and goes back upstairs.

Alright, Tim fess up what did you do? said dick. Me this could have been easily you, Maybe Mom found out about you breaking her very expensive vase, Tim said defending himself. well, it's not like you are innocent, Mom probably found out that you're the one who's been finishing all her expensive French coffee, Dick said as a comeback.

Alright Dickhead, why is mom so angry? Jason comes walking behind him, I have no clue she's been acting strange all morning AND SHE DIDN'T CALL ME BY MY NICKNAME, Dick says wiping his tears.

jason says, huh same, she usually calls me Baby Bird but she just stood there staring at me. Maybe, Jason, she found out how you snook out to patrol even though you are grounded, Tim says. Jason says in response, probably... WAIT how did you know about that Tim. I Know everything... you have cameras around the house don't you Tim, Dick said. Maybe, Idk Tim said with an evil grin.

Okay, guys come on let's go upstairs and apologize to whatever we did, Dick said. Fine Dickh, Jason said but was interrupted... AHHHHHHHHH

what the hell! I think my eardrum exploded, said Tim

come on guys, someone could be in trouble, Dick said. Okay, dickhead calm down, Jason says.

Damian what's wrong, Ummi said Damian instead of Dami. What did you idiots do this time?

Hold on demon spawn we didn't do anything let's ask Dad, Tim suggested.

Dad, what's happening with mom? Dick says

I don't know Dick your mother has been acting weird since this morning and she even woke up early like 6 in the morning early. [GASP], Bruce answers.

Damn, what the hell did we do? Damian says.

shut up demon spawn, I am trying to think, Jason continues.

Hi kids... MOM/UMMI!!, Batmom says out of nowhere.

Kids, I am very disappointed in you, Batmom continues

But mom we don't even know what we did wrong, dick said, and collectively everyone said yeah.

Sweethearts, why is there a FUCKING COW on my lawn, Batmom yelled out.

OHHHHHHHH, yeah Mom we all decided to get a cow, Dick answered truthfully. Shhhhh dickhead don't get me involved, Jason says slapping Dick behind his head

well, I am so glad you told me what happened, so here you go, Batmom says while handing everyone a paper.

What's this Honey? bruce said while taking the paper in his hand

well, that's the list of chores and you all are grounded for a month!!! Batmom said yelling.

WAIT, DOES THAT MEAN I AM GROUNDED FOR TWO MONTHS STRAIGHT, Jason shouted in fear.

No, Babybird, you all are grounded for two more months since you all exposed yourself when trying to figure out why I was upset with you guys, Batmom said with her hands on her hips.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!, Jason shouted.

#batmom imagines #batfam x reader #batmom #batman #batfam x batmom #batmom imagine #batmom!reader #bruce wayne x reader #jason todd #damian wayne #damian al ghul #tim drake #dick grayson #batman and robin #batman x batmom

[munsonsmixtapes]

Idk if you take requests but i had this idea in my mind of bestfriends eddie x reader who grew up together, they were soulmates and everyone knew they were each others person. Stuck to each others sides and never bothered dating anyone else. They never spoke about it, never said bf or gf, never asked each other out, they just were and that was perfect for them. They did all the things couples do like cuddling, holding hands. Theyre all gooey and mushy but people cant help but root for them anyway

And oneday despite never technically "dating" or acknowledging it, Eddie proposes to reader and she says yes and everythings perfect, a beautiful heart warming happily ever after they both deserved

Hey! Yes, I am taking requests and I love this one!

Eddie x bestie!fem!reader

word count: 1,141

cw: none!

You weren’t sure there was a time when you hadn’t known Eddie. You couldn’t even remember the exact moment when you had become friends. He was someone that was just always around. The two of you had been attached at the hip, wherever one went, the other wasn’t that far behind.

It was to the point where you always had to be touching each other. Whether you were holding hands or an had arm around each other’s waists, it didn’t matter. Seeing you two behave that way definitely made people question whether you were together, but you had never discussed it. It was always just assumed by everyone that you were a couple.

Your first sign that you were more than friends should have been when you shared your first kiss. You had been at a party together and found yourselves on the couch, side by side. You had been making conversation since you hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone else and for whatever reason, you couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

You felt weird that you had wanted to kiss Eddie. He was your best friend and friends didn’t kiss, did they? They most definitely didn’t. You knew that for a fact. But you went for it anyway. You grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed your lips to his and he was quick to return it. The whole thing was messy and neither of you knew what you were doing, but you both liked it.

Neither of you had ever been in a relationship, but that was only because you had each other. You hadn't been interested in anyone anyway. Eddie had been the only person you had wanted to spend your time with and he felt the exact same way about you. It was as if there had been some sort of string tying the two of you together.

The second sign should have been when you bought your first apartment together. It only had one bedroom but you didn’t even think about it. You just bought a bed and shared it together, not even paying any mind to anyone who told you that it was weird. Because to you, it wasn’t.

The two of you had been cuddled up on the couch while a movie had been playing on the TV. You had been in the same position for hours; him with his back on the couch and you directly on top of him. It was the way you always laid together there and it has been the most comfortable way for the both of you to fit onto the thing. Although, sometimes you’d be on the bottom but that was rare since Eddie always thought he was crushing you.

Eddie had been staring at the screen, fiddling with the velvet box that had been in his hand. He knew that there wasn’t a label on what the two of you had, but he so desperately wanted to call you his wife. He wanted to see you wearing a beautiful dress and walk down the aisle to greet him at the altar where you swore to love each other in sickness and health, til death did you part.

He had bought the ring weeks ago but couldn’t get the balls to actually ask the four words that had been on his mind. You wouldn’t have said no, he knew that for a fact. It hadn’t been something you ever discussed, but he somehow knew that the whole thing had been meant for the two of you.

“Y/n,” he said your name and you quickly turned to him, your chin resting on his chest. He hoped that you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest. That you would avoid the sweat on his forehead.

“Yeah?” He loved the look in your eye that you got when you looked at him. All warm and filled with love. It always made him feel better no matter what. Except now. He was the most nervous he had ever been.

“Can I ask you something?” You could hear the trembling in his voice and wanted to know what was wrong with him. He was always so calm around you.

“You can ask me anything, you know that.” You gave him a sweet smile despite his nervousness, hoping that it would be reassuring.

“Can we sit up for this?” He leaned up and you went with him awkwardly, wanting to put an end to his weird behavior.

“Eds, what’s going on?” You asked as you got off of him, now standing in front of the TV. “You’re sweating bullets, honey. Is everything okay?”

“Y/n, we’ve known each other for a long time,” he said, completely avoiding your question. If he didn’t ask his own soon, he never would and buying that right would have all been for nothing.

“We have,” you nodded, your hands moving to your hips.

“You’re my best friend and have been since I can remember. You’ve been there for my highs and lows and there’s honestly no other person that I love more in the world than you. You’re everything. You’re it for me.” His speech caused the gears to turn in your head. He had always been a mushy guy, especially with you, but this has been a lot. Even for him. You tried to figure out what he was trying to say, what the whole reason for saying all of that was, but your mind went blank.

“Eddie, what-”

Before you could finish your thought, Eddie was on his knees, opening a blue velvet box, the most beautiful ring sitting inside it. You hadn’t even thought about it, but it was the exact one you had wanted. Marriage hadn’t even been on the table, but you would have happily married Eddie in a heartbeat.

“Will you marry me?” He asked and you gasped, still unable to find the words even though you knew exactly what you were going to say. You were just so overwhelmed with joy.

“Yes!” You replied and he quickly slipped the ring onto your finger before gathering you into his arms. He captured your lips between his in a brief kiss before pulling you into a tight hug.

The two of you were now engaged. Engaged. You never thought you would have found your person, but he had been right in front of you all along. You hadn’t even been looking for anyone, but there Eddie was. Really, you had been together the entire time, but neither of you felt the need to address it. That wasn’t how your relationship worked. You never talked about that kind of thing, but the more people had mentioned it, the more you realized that they were right. You and Eddie had been meant for each other all along.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part one max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( next )

One of the things Max Verstappen despises about being Max Verstappen is being Max Verstappen. Three time world champion, youngest race winner, mad max, f1 dominator, all the fame and media and people following him around. It's very hard to get a moment of peace or be treated normally. When people hear his name they either put on big smiles or ugly frowns. He hates the special treatment.

He misses when he could have a conversation without people recording or judging him. Without people whispering about him, or fake being his friend for whatever fame. When people would just spend time with him for the sake of spending time, or having a conversation for the sake of friendly socialization and conversation. Luckily though for the Dutch, in this day and age, Max could just enter a spare email in Discord and make a second lowkey account.

The pfp was a random photo of Max, a meme. Lowkey enough, Max decided after staring at the profile long enough before opening DiscoBoard. After scrolling and searching, he was dawned upon with a relatively small server with only 280 people online, surrounding sim racing. After he followed instructions on the welcome page like verifying he's not a robot and picking roles, he got his first ping. 

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max met you in August of 2022. The way you talked and messed around with him got him constantly checking his phone for notifications over the next months. The way you befriended him and were relaxed around him once the two of you got to know each other, it kept him sane. And although Max didn't really reveal a lot about himself except that his work required a lot of traveling and effort, you trusted him enough to share about your own life up in France, ranting about your weird encounters as an employee at Cisco.

The blonde’s favorite part about getting home was plopping in his gaming chair and switching his Discord accounts. Pulling his headphones on and navigating through the server, he joined the active voice chat. It was as if he was switching lives, turning off Max Verstappen to be an irrelevant 26 year old.

“A millioooon.” you sang like you always did, a nickname you’d given him since amilian sounded like a million. 

“Laaaaa.” Max sang back with a chuckle before greeting the other acquaintances present on the call. 

“How was your weekend?” You hummed. 

“Same as always. Maybe a bit shittier this time.” He sighed, seeing you were on Gran Turismo from your shared screen. 

“I’d love to beat up someone for you.” You always offer when he’s down. The blonde would laugh and shake his head even though you can’t see. You never cease to bring him a smile with your tone and jokes and hearty aura, despite being kilometers up north. "We're waiting for Josh to take a few rounds around spa, you wanna join?" 

"Oh, yes please." friendly racing with no consequences, points or championship? just friends messing around and enjoying themselves? Yes please.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You see the new verstappen photos that just dropped, Mr. Max Verstappen nerd?" Max looked up from his phone, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at your dm chat where the two of you decided to move the call once everyone else put down the steering wheel for the night.

"This one is from Bahrain I think . . . you know, I'm starting to take a liking to him." Max rolled his eyes playfully at your words. "To be honest, I was kind of disappointed this weekend." Max rubbed his eyes, looking up at your profile picture. 

"Why what happened?" He asked even though he probably knew all too well the events of the Australian grand prix.

"Max DNFed on the third or fifth lap." You sighed. 

"Oh yeah?" Max hummed, pursing his lips, not wanting to recall the memories. "What's so bad about that? I thought you were a die hard Charles fan?" he asked. 

"Excuse you, I'm a die hard Fernando fan." You joked in a sassy tone which pulled a chuckle from him.

"What is it about Max DNFing that is bothering you then?" Max himself asked, putting his phone down to concentrate on your voice. 

"I just don't—" you sighed deeply. On your end of the call you rolled back in your chair, getting up and flopping on your bed with your phone in hand.

When you did answer his question, all Max heard was mumbles because your voice was muffled by your pillow. "Can't hear you, La. Aren't you happy about the Carlando podium? You were so happy about it last year." 

"I am happy, I am. But Max . . . well Max . . . i don't know." you grumbled frustrated. "He's such a good driver, and deserves a lot— he works really really hard."

Max never thought he'd hear you talking about him like that. He'd usually hear other people on the server dissing him and cursing him. And although you were always mostly neutral with the drivers, the way you spoke about Max tonight melted his heart. It also felt very wrong.

While you turned and laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling of your room, venting your feelings about a driver who you thought didn't know you existed, said driver folded his arms on his desk and leaned forward, resting his chin on his arms listening to you vent about how much you were amazed and proud even though you don't know him personally or him not being your favorite driver.

Max glanced up at his monitor as you sighed to gather your thoughts. "Sometimes when i look at him, he reminds me of myself. I never really got to go past karting, but for some reason I see a little bit of y/n in him." 

"—Y/n?" He sat up hearing the name. 

"I—" You face palmed upon the realization.

 "Is that your name?" Max asked. You nodded briefly with a sigh but he couldn't see.

"Unfortunately." You sighed. "Weird name, I know—" 

"I like it." He reassured. "It's not like Amilian is any better." he tried to lighten the mood, working slightly. 

"A million." you giggled making him chuckle back. 

"A million, " he repeated quieter, a small smile on his face as he leaned his chin back down on his arm.

Such a foolish thing to do, taking a liking to a woman you've never met.

Voice notes . . . ( my brain is like a zoo rn, starting projects and not being able to track anything while working on everything at the same time )Word count - ( 1, 165 ) credits for proof reading -> @classiclitfreak (check out their blog!!)

#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾ #🐈 ﹒wired in? ﹐♫ #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen #max #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #formula racing #mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 fic #mv33 fic #max x reader #max x you #f1 fic #formula one x reader #formula one

[haknom]

BLOSSOM — YANG JUNGWON

pairing: enemy to crush-prince!jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis: wanting to confess to your enemy was never easy, especially when you both were too embarrassed to do so.

note: this was written like last month but i just never thought it was good 😭 // blossom by wei >>>

wordcount: 699 words // warnings: fluff, angst, and they’re both cowards and mean to each other.

LIVING IN THE SAME PALACE AS YANG JUNGWON, THE PRINCE OF THE FAMILY YOUR MOTHER ASSISTED, WAS NEVER EASY.

He never failed to irk your soul even if he was only breathing. Everything about him was aggravating, mainly his personality. The two of you didn’t get along at the start of your stay in the palace in the first place—he hated the thought of living with so-called peasants.

He was a stuck-up brat who only cared about wealth and what his friends would think. They all went to a prestigious school with high standards. You did too, but you didn’t fit in—not one bit.

Every time you walked down the halls, you were given dirty looks or something even worse. Still, that didn’t bother you. You were never phased by the opinions of others. Only your thoughts about yourself mattered.

That also could be the reason why Jungwon began to like you—4 years later. Yes, he was annoyed by the thought of having to spend every day with you under the same roof as him but maturing was all he needed.

Constantly teasing you and making you feel as though he didn’t care for you was only stage one of the five stages of grief—denial.

He sat on the grassy floor in their garden while picking at the newly bloomed flowers. Growing up, he loved the garden. He loved watching everything grow from a seed into something beautiful.

So, of course, he thought that could distract him and his constant thoughts of you but it didn’t. Here he was picking flowers for a bouquet to give to someone who wouldn’t leave his mind.

Stage two—anger. He was angry. He wanted to forget about you and his feelings, he really did, but he couldn’t. Seeing you every day only made things even harder. His face flushed even at the sound of your name. You had him head over heels for you and you didn’t even know.

He was too distracted to even notice the sudden figure that joined him in his flower picking. So, maybe the distraction did work?

“Hey,” you greeted, tired of waiting for Jungwon to notice you first. “What do you want?” He asked in his usual harsh tone. You rolled your eyes, shrugging it off. “Are these the ones you planted a few weeks ago?” You asked, delicately caressing the flower petals.

“Why do you ask?” He questioned while dusting off the soil from the flower stems in his hands. “Just curious.” You carefully removed your hands from the petals, too afraid to damage anything, and brought your knees to your chest.

“What’s the occasion?” You asked once again as you stared at the progress of the bouquet in his hold. “Please, is that a gift for someone?” You teased, earning a glare from Jungwon.

“Don’t get too giddy, it’s not for you.” Lies. It was definitely for you. There was nobody else who made his head spin or made him experience feelings of butterflies in his stomach like the way you did.

“You must be crazy. I wasn’t looking forward to any gift from you. With that snotty little attitude, I’m sure nobody from school was looking forward to it either.” You spat. Another lie.

After at least a year or two with the Yangs, you began to feel different around Jungwon. It was an odd feeling, not one that many would experience so easily but somehow, you did. It wasn’t the best feeling.

Not being able to think straight or avoid fumbling over your words when you’re around a certain someone you previously claimed to hate wasn’t the best feeling either.

It was quite embarrassing, to say the least. Yet, it still happened to you. Not being able to maintain your composure when arguing with Jungwon sucked. He always felt a little bit of pride and a ton of guilt after your banters were over but couldn’t bring himself to apologize.

Why? The reason was mutual; you were both too embarrassed. You didn’t want to admit you were wrong about anything, you always had to be right. The same went for Jungwon.

No wonder you two couldn’t bring yourselves to confess to each other.

PERM TAGLIST: @soov @redm4ri @ox1-lovesick @urszn @hanniluvi @dakkisz @dimplewonie @ddeonudepressions @xiaoderrrr @ja4hyvn @mmaplepastries @essmarye @w3bqrl @jennaissantes @yenqa @yeokii @yyunari @wvnkoi @strwberrydinosaur @gibbysupremeacyisreal @rikizm @teddywonss @simp4jongseong @whoschr @forjungwons @yizhoutv @yuviqik @itsactuallylina @hermitanatta

#k-labels #k-films #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen #jungwon enhypen #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon angst #jungwon x reader #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon imagines #jungwon fluff #kpop angst #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #yang jungwon angst #jungwon enha #enha jungwon #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha angst #enha #enha imagines #enha scenarios #kpop

[ryker-writes]

If you're still doing sibling angst, could I request Riddle with a disowned sibling? ^^ like maybe they're the exact opposite of Riddle (Lazy, doesn't follow rules, talks back to their mom) and because of that Riddle also thought lowly of them. Only to see them at NRC after they cut ties. Maybe also how he would treat them after his overblot? 👀

Yes darling! The people love the sibling angst! Now it's Riddle's turn >:D

Request rules and Masterlists

Riddle as a sibling (Broken relationship)

the Rosehearts family was a very strict family to live in

ever since you were a kid, your mother had fully planned out you and your brothers life

every second of every day was meant to help you towards the future she planned

and on top of that you had to listen to every rule your mother put in place

she always said that if either one of you failed to follow her rules and her plans, she wouldn't love you anymore

Riddle was very good at following these rules and he was a natural hard worker

You however, were the opposite of him

you hated all the rules and strict plan

how could Riddle just go along with it really?

it was always incredibly stressful and it felt like there was constant suffocating pressure

so one day, you just gave up following the rules and listening to your mom

she hated it when she would ask you something and you told her "no"

and somewhere inside, you hoped Riddle would do the same

but Riddle would never do that

even while your mother screamed at you for disobeying, he stood by and did everything she asked

she told him that you were a prime example of everything she didn't want in a child

she called you all sorts of names before disowning you and kicking you out

you never went back there after that

your mom was not someone you ever cared to see again

but you did worry slightly about Riddle and how he would turn out

would he end up just like her?

or would he eventually speak back and stand up to her?

only time would tell

thankfully, you were able to tell when you got into Night Raven College

Riddle was the housewarden of Heartslabyul

the dorm known for strict rules

that didn't bode well

sure enough, you heard some first year Heartslabyul students talking about how strict the rules in their dorm were

Riddle had ended up just like your mother

still, you had hoped that maybe he hadn't become as bad as her

so when you saw him in the halls you decided to greet him and maybe start up a conversation

but as soon as his attention was on you, his expression turned sour

instead of saying hello or something when first speaking to you, he immediately started commenting on your uniform and how it doesn't go along with NRC rules

it wasn't too bad until he added

"I see you're still a disrespectful deviant. You really should know that you'd better serve society if you just listen for once."

yeah...that told you all you needed to know

he acts exactly like your mother and he thinks of you in the same way she does

you couldn't put yourself through that again, so you left

you didn't interact with Riddle after that

it's sad that things turned out this way, but it wasn't something you had to deal with

you just continued to live your life, your way

and things were fine

lately, there were a lot of Heartslabyul students walking around with collars on

Riddle's unique magic

they broke the rather ridiculous rules, and now they had to suffer

you felt for them, you really did

but there was nothing you could do to help them

days later you heard about what happened

someone stood up to Riddle and he overblotted

you were surprised of course

overblots were so rare and can kill someone

Riddle was fine, but you knew he would likely receive a long lecture from your mother

still, you carried on living your normal life

but Riddle started lingering around you more

and then one day, he talked to you

"I've come to realize that not all of the rules are necessary and don't always need to be followed. So I've come to apologize. I'm...sorry for how I've treated you, and I'm sorry for everything that happened at home."

your relationship with Riddle started to get better after that

he wouldn't criticize you for when you didn't follow minor rules

however if it was a bigger more important rule he will urge you to follow, but hesitates to enforce it

he's still learning what classifies as a rule that's not super important so give him some time

he want's to try and fix the relationship between you two

and he confides in you that he too gets tired of your mother sometimes

at least he has more freedom at Night Raven College

Riddle even started inviting you to unbirthday parties and introduced you to all the hedgehogs

An extra thought for all of you:

when Ace stood up to Riddle, he couldn't help but think of you

Ace called all his rules ridiculous and talked back to Riddle, just like you did to your mother

he could clearly remember the day you fully rebelled against your mom and what followed after

he couldn't let that happen again

and then he overblotted

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland angst #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader

[stop-talking]

You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (pt. 1)

Mike Schmidt x fem reader

2.5k words

Tags: 18+, mike x reader, no use of y/n, exes, enemies, enemies to lovers, slowburn? sassy mike, sassy reader, pet names, banter, angst, so much angst, flashing mike, fluff, spending time with Abby (because everyone always forgets her??)

Part 2

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Mike holds his breath as the phone rings. He's already gone down the mental checklist of people who he could possibly call for help right now, and is currently scraping the bottom of the goddamn barrel.

*click* "Hello?"

He speaks hurriedly into the dingy landline phone, praying you won't immediately dismiss him.

"Hey, it's Mike. Please don't hang up."

You're tempted to hang up on him then and there, just to prove a point. You guys broke up nearly a year ago, and hadn't spoken in... what, six months now? But the tone in his voice... he sounded desperate.

"What, drunk and lonely again?" You scoff, unable to resist taking a jab at him. You two hadn't exactly ended things on good terms, his lack-of-sleep induced grumpiness and general unpleasant disposition making it hard for him to take criticism without it turning into an argument. It wasn't your fault he never made time for you. It wasn't your fault he was so emotionally unavailable.

"No." He grits his teeth, already regretting calling you. "I need a favor. Please." He chokes the word out, his stomach in knots from having to resort to this.

You pause for a few moments, chewing on his words. It must really be serious if he'd called you, after all the things you'd said to him last time you spoke.

"Well... lets hear it, then."

"I need you to watch Abby tonight. My usual babysitter isn't answering the damn phone, and I have to leave for work in an hour. I can't leave Abby home alone. I just can't."

In an hour? You glance at the clock, it's already 8:30. What ungodly hours is he working?

"I thought you didn't work nights? I swear to god, Schmidt, if you're making me watch her so you can go get laid-"

"No. Nothing like that. I swear." He sighs, sounding genuinely exhausted. "I'm working as a security guard these days. Night gig. Long story. It sucks ass, but I need this job. Can you watch Abby? I'll owe you one."

You bite back the urge to scoff at him. He's not even going to pay you? Figures. Oh well. Holding a favor over his head might be fun.

"Ugh. Fine. I'll see. What time will you get back? I have work in the morning."

"6:15. Maybe 6:10, if I drive like a maniac."

"Shit. I'll have to get ready for work at your place. If I go home first I'll be late."

"Yeah, sure. Anything. Just please stay with Abby. She goes to sleep at 10, you can crash on the couch. I just want someone in the house with her."

You let out an audible sigh. Are you seriously going to go crash on your shitty ex-boyfriend's shitty couch on a work night?

...Yeah, yeah you are.

"Damn it, Mike. You'd better kiss my fucking feet when I get there."

Mike almost laughs at that. Almost.

"Sure thing, Princess." He cant help but taunt you a bit, using an old pet name he used to call you way back when you were dating. It probably wasn't the best decision to irritate the last person he could rely on, but he wasn't in the right headspace to make good decisions right now. These days, he mostly runs off of coffee and self-hatred.

"I'll be there in 30. You'd better be on your knees and groveling when you open the door." You slam the phone down before he can answer. Michael fucking Schmidt. Still the same jackass you broke up with all those months ago.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike opens the door to greet you almost exactly 30 minutes later, he reluctantly drops to his knees. He'd hoped you'd forgotten the silly request, but the unamused look you gave him said otherwise.

"Fucking witch." He grumbles, hanging his head as you brush past him into the house. Were you wearing... pajama pants? He stares at you as you set down your things, a purse and what looks like an overnight bag of some sort.

"Stop gaping. And stand up. You look pathetic." You shrug off your coat, revealing an old t-shirt underneath. Yeah, you were in pajamas, so what? Its late. And you couldn't be bothered to put in extra effort for Mike, of all people.

"Excuse me for doing as her majesty commands." He groans and stands up, brushing himself off. As if that'll make him look any more presentable.

Abby tentatively pokes her head out of her room, watching you and Mike argue. Shit. Did she hear all that?

"Hey Abbs." You wave to her, deciding to ignore Mike's comment. "It's gonna be just me and you tonight, sound good?"

She looks to Mike for approval, who nods and gives her a tired smile. The only kind of smile he's been able to muster lately.

"...Will you play with me?"

"Yeah, 'course I will. Let me have a chat with your brother real quick." She seems to accept that answer, closing herself back off in her room. You sigh and follow Mike into the kitchen.

"There's leftovers in the fridge, and a lasagna in the freezer. Probably have something edible in the pantry. I think there's popcorn." He explains, pointing out a few different measly options for a quick meal. "Look, she probably won't, but just try and get her to eat dinner."

You watch him lean back against the counter and rub at his temples. God damn, he looks... exhausted. His hair has grown out a bit since you last saw him, dark brown curls hanging low over his forehead. His eye bags seem to hang even lower.

"Yeah... I'll try and get her to eat."

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air as you both run out of things to talk about, so he fills the void with an insult.

"You really had to come over in that?" Mike scoffs and gestures at your frumpy t-shirt and pajama pants.

"What? Were you hoping for something slutty?" You cross your arms and give him a smug look.

He turns his head, unsure what to say to that. Maybe part of him did hope to see you dressed in something a little more revealing. Or maybe just undressed. God damn it, was he blushing?

"Fuck you." He mutters, making his way to the entryway and slipping his shoes on.

"No thanks. Been there, done that." You respond dismissively, watching him leave with a smirk.

Mike slams the door on his way out. Not hard enough to startle Abby, hopefully, but hard enough to make a point he's not in the mood to play your little games. Still, the whole drive to work, he can't help but wonder what if...? What if you had never broken up with him? What if he had been a better boyfriend? A better provider for you and Abby? A better man?

"I fucking hate her." He grumbles, but the words are hollow.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Mike told me you stopped coming over because he found out you're a witch and you curse children. Is that true?" Abby finally musters up the courage to ask the question that's been on her mind ever since you walked through the door.

"Did he say that?" You chuckle, a little shocked that this is what she chose to ask after ten minutes or so of silently coloring together.

"Yeah. He said you cursed him, too. And that's why he can't color anymore. He'll explode, or something." She babbles, not looking up from her paper.

"Hmm... well, if you're really worried about your brother, I'll cut you a deal." You do your best to keep the anger from your tone as you continue to color beside her at the table. That asshole doesn't color with Abby anymore?

"...What kind of deal?"

"I'll lift the curse on your brother so he can color and draw again... but you have to eat dinner. Ten whole bites."

Abby seems to consider this for a moment, turning and eyeing you suspiciously. Mike likes to mess with her like this. Were you messing with her too? Probably. But, well, if it would make Mike spend time with her again...

"Fine. What do we have?"

You smile at her. This babysitting stuff is a breeze.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike stumbles in the door the next morning, he spots you fast asleep on the couch. He flops down in the recliner and just watches you sleep for a minute or two. You look so pretty when you're asleep. Serene. Peaceful. Not at all like when you're awake, giving him that attitude he's so familiar with. He sighs and makes his way over to the couch, knowing he should probably wake you for work.

"Uhh... wakey wakey?" He mumbles lamely, unsure what to really say. Definitely not good morning, beautiful. He scoffs to himself at the thought.

"Mmm... Mike?" You blink up at the man gently shaking your shoulder, your eyes adjusting to the morning light.

"Yeah. Who else would it be?" He shakes his head in amusement and goes back to sit in the recliner.

"I dunno. A hookup?" You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, then stretch out.

"A hookup? Still being passed around, then?" He responds with a scoff, trying to hide just how much that answer bothers him. Even after nearly a year of being broken up, he doesn't like to imagine you with other men. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, even if he's not into you anymore. Actually, you don't look half-bad right now, stretching your arms over your head like that...

"Can you blame a girl? Had to make up for all the unsatisfying nights with you."

Mike reeled at that little quip. The smug look on your face, god... He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to shut you up with a kiss or a punch.

"Just fucking go home." Nice one, Mike. That'll show her.

"Hey, you agreed I could get ready here. I'm gonna go use your shower, and then I have something to talk to you about."

Something to talk to him about? He scowls as you walk off towards his bedroom. Why couldn't you just leave him alone? Why did everything have to be so complicated? He groans and goes to lie down in bed. Maybe he could get in a quick nap while you shower. Maybe.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You emerge from the dingy bathroom connected to Mike's bedroom fifteen minutes or so later, steam trailing in behind you.

"Three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash? Seriously, Schmidt?" You scold him, crossing your arms as you stand before his bed wearing nothing but a towel. At first, he seems annoyed when you pull him out of his brooding, but when he takes in your current state of undress, he sputters.

"S-so? Its economical." He scoffs, irritated, but unable to look away as you make your way around his bed and out the door.

You return a minute later carrying your overnight bag. "Forgot my clothes." Mike just nods, still unable to tear his eyes from you.

"Stop staring."

"Stop waltzing through my room naked."

"This isn't naked." You gesture to the towel wrapped around your body, drawing his attention back to you.

"This is naked."

Mike watches in complete shock as you let the towel fall to the floor, completely baring yourself to him for a few moments before finally locking yourself in his bathroom. You hear him mutter a few curses on the other side of the door, and smile as you get changed.

"Was that really necessary?" Mike scowls at you when you emerge from his bathroom a few minutes later, now fully dressed.

"Calm down, Mikey. Not like you haven't seen it all before." The old nickname you used to call him by doesn't sound endearing anymore. It sounds taunting. Mike looks like he cant decide between kicking you out of the house or pulling you into his bed. Good to know you can still get under his skin. And maybe his bedsheets, if you wanted.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" He finally asks, sighing in defeat.

"C'mon. I'll tell you."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・���・・・・・・○・

Mike sits in the recliner, watching you set up a bunch of unnecessary crap on his coffee table. Did you really have to do your makeup right in front of him?

"A witch, Mike? Seriously? You told her I'm a witch, and then left her alone with me for the night?"

Mike swallows. Shit. He honestly forgot about that, it was just some lame excuse he came up with right after the breakup back when he was still distraught.

"Am I wrong?" He tries to brush it off with a sassy comment, but folds when he sees your intense glare.

"I mean... uh... I'll tell her you're... not a witch..." Real smooth, Schmidt. Mumble and stare at the floor.

"It's not even about that, really. Feed her all the lies you want. What I'm upset about is that she told me you don't color with her anymore."

Mike finally meets your eyes as you apply yet another random powder he doesn't understand the purpose of to your cheeks with the swipe of a brush.

"I'm busy. And it's none of your business. I asked you to come be her babysitter, not her mom." He snarls, hands clenched into fists.

"I'm not trying to be. It just breaks my heart to hear that stuff from her, Mike. I told her I'd lift the 'curse' off of you if she ate her dinner, and she did. So consider yourself un-cursed."

Mike grits his teeth as you put air quotes around the word "curse". He knew you were right, and that bothered him more than the fact he was being a shitty brother. The worst part was, you weren't even being snarky, you just sounded genuinely concerned for Abby. God damn it.

"...Yeah. Fine. Un-cursed. Got it." He grumbles in agreement as you finish up your makeup and swipe the assortment of products into your purse.

"How do I look?"

He wanted to tell you that you looked gorgeous, that he missed having you around, attitude or not. But in this moment, he couldn't do it. He was too tired. Too angry.

"Like a whore."

"Someone's jealous he doesn't get any."

"Like I'd want you."

"Oh yeah, the raging boner you had earlier when you saw me in a towel was because you don't want me. Totally."

Oh, now you're just taunting him.

"I'll have you know that didn't happen till after you lost the towel." Mike scoffs as he follows you to the entryway, unlocking the door for you while you slip on your shoes.

"Don't lie to me, Mikey."

"I'd never dream of it, Princess."

Mike has to resist the urge to pull you into his arms as you leave for work. Maybe if you didn't look so goddamn smug, he would. Instead he just shuts the door and locks it, hating himself for how much he enjoyed this whole interaction.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

will probably write a part 2 (with smut??)

edit: here is part 2

(no smut. part 3 tho...??)

idk this was my first fanfic ever so enjoy

#josh hutcherson #mikeschmidt #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnafmovie #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson x reader #jhutch #mike x reader #no use of y/n #fnaf fic

[star-suh]

Don't Chew More Than You Can Swallow

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

cw: top johnny, pseudo-incest, underwear kink, musk kink, degradation, praising, breeding, hickeys, blowjob, deepthroat, manhandling, implied size kink, snowballing, age gap (yn is 20 and johnny is 25).

an: this is the other idea from @ldrei

also i was lazy to think about names for the mom and the stepfather so yuh.

—

“ok yn, i want you to put on a smile on that face we're almost near the house” yn's mom said while driving towards their new home.

some years ago yn was part of a loving and happy family until one day his father, an honorable police officer, died during a raid against a gang. yn and his mother were devastated, mourning his death for the next couple of months. but life goes on and we have to let go and move on, right? after like a year yn's mother started dating another police officer, months later they made their relationship official and decided to get married, which brings us to the beginning of the story, yn and his mother would move to their new home, where yn's new father and new brother, a 25 years old guy, live already.

“hello we're home” yn's mom greeted, “hey honey” yn's stepdad appeared and kissed her, “hey yn, how are you?”; “i'm good.. thanks” he replied, “glad to know that” the older man said with a smile on his face.

yn walked towards the kitchen searching for a glass to drink some water, “the cups are up there” someone said, yn turned around and there he was his new stepbrother “the name's johnny” he extended his hand and yn grabbed it to shake it, his hand was way bigger than yn's, “i'm yn.. n-nice to meet you” he laughed nervously, “i say the same, see you later then” johnny said winking at him and waving a goodbye.

a couple of months have passed, everything was going good for everyone except for yn. he was thirsting over johnny 24/7, when he walked around the house with just a short on and no underwear because he can clearly see his bulge swing around everytime he walks, his body is to die for ‘god i wish i could lick those abs right now’ thought yn. it was even more harder for yn to not think about johnny fucking him when he was on the room next to him rearranging some woman's insides, the banging sounds going straight to yn's ears, ‘i wish that was me’ he thought. and that's the only thing yn can do, fantasize about him because well… his stepbrother is straight.

johnny sent yn to search something in his room, he did as he was told but something catches his attention, a pair of underwears resting on a pile of clothes. driven by his impulses, he grabbed one and began to sniff it, his face immediately turning red and a bulge growing in his pants "johnny~" he moaned softly.

he went quickly to his room, locked the door and began to jerk off, wrapping the underwear around his cock sliding it up and down while biting a pillow to suppress the moans.

the weeks passed and yn's desire for johnny only increased. every time johnny brought someone home to fuck, while his parents were away, yn always masturbated listening to their moans.

one day yn was masturbating again with his the underwear until a voice interrupted him, "hey yn!" a shirtless johnny called opening the door with a bang "what the hell were you doing? i've been calling you for a while" he asked with a somewhat angry tone. "sorry johnny, what do you want?" yn questioned, "these last few months you have been the one picking the dirty clothes to take them to the laundry room, have you by any chance seen my underwear? they have been missing” he scratches his head. “i have no idea johnny” yn replied with a nervous laugh. “hmm… it's okay” and just like that, johnny left.

worried that johnny would find out, he grabbed all the dirty clothes and ran down to the laundry room. there he turned on the washing machine and placed the underwear there and just when he was going to press the button to start the washing cycle a big hand stopped him, a low and very deep voice whispered in his ear "i thought you didn't know where my fucking underwear was" the warm breath sending shivers down his spine, “you're such a dirty pervert yn” he laugh was deep and sexy.

“j-johnny i-i” yn didn't know what to do, “you thought you were slick with it but no, did you think i didn't notice how you stared at me every time i walked around the house shirtless, how your eyes went from my abs to my bulge, shit i even could feel how you fucked me with your eyes”. johnny positioned himself behind yn, his huge bulge rubbing against yn's ass, "even every night i fucked someone i could hear your slutty moans on the other side of the wall, how you moaned my name was… so sexy... now i kinda want to hear them again" the taller was leaving small kisses on yn's neck, he then took out his huge cock from his shorts and rubbed it on yn's clothed ass “do you want to taste my cock, yn?", his sexy low voice doing things down there on yn's crotch area.

“j-johnny” yn stuttered “i-i'm sorry” a little moan escaping his mouth. “if you want to apologize you have to take responsibility about this” he slams his thick heavy cock against yn's ass again. “y-yes” yn fell to his knees and started kissing the tip, using one hand to stroke the rest of the shaft while the other was stroking his own.

“you're so nasty yn, look at you sucking at your brother's cock. aren't you such a nasty slut huh?” johnny grabs his head and starts to mouthfuck him, forcing yn to deepthroat him, “come on you can do more than that, it's barely halfway in”, little by little yn swallowed it all, johnny locked his head with his arms. the gagging sounds being like music to his ears. “there you go, you're doing so good for me”.

johnny lifted yn and fold him against the washing machine, rubbing the tip of his cock in the other's hole “want me to destroy you, cockwhore?” he says once again using that sexy low voice that drives yn crazy “p-please~ do it”.

johnny was slamming so hard that the washing machine was moving too, yn's legs were shaking due to how good johnny was fucking him, "how does my little fucktoy feel.. is this what you wanted? my thick, heavy cock opening your ass?"; “yes johnny please wreck me” yn replied withiut thinking, “so desperate”.

johnny lifted yn and carried him from the laundry room to his bedroom but without stopping fucking him. the thrusts were slow but as powerful as the harsh ones because he always manages to brush yn's prostate with the tip of his cock, drawing whimpers out of his mouth that made johnny chuckle, ‘so cute’ he thinks.

they're finally on the bedroom, johnny throw yn towards his bed, attacking his neck with kisses and leaving some bruises here and there. his big, tall body towering over yn's. “i have a deal for you” the taller comments, “if you can take me without cumming you'll be my little fucktoy boyfriend. what do you think?” he keeps on kissing yn's body until he reaches the nipples and suck on them. “hngh i really w-want that” the bottom squirmed.

the fat cock went in and out, going in even harder than the last time, johnny's balls slapping against yn's ass “who's being a good cockwhore?” the top asks, “m-... me” yn struggles to answer due to the harsh thrusts “i'm johnny's g-good cockwhore”.

“but you're only mine right?”.

“yeah i'm only yours…”.

both sealed the deal with a gentle kiss, contrasting with the rough thrusts. “fuck i'm gonna cum” johnny growls, he took advantage of the fact that his cock reached so deep inside yn to make him cum, however he let himself be carried away by the moment and filled yn's ass up with that warm sperm.

yn barely managed to hold off his cumming so johnny now has to fulfill the deal they just made. "it seems like i'm your little fucktoy boyfriend now"; "i think so," johnny adds, “and a cute one”.

“you took me so well pretty boy, i think you deserve a threat” and as he said that he went down and started to suck yn's cock “j-johnny you don't have to~”; “mmm mmm, i want to, prince” the sweet name embarrasing yn so much that he covered his face with his arms, feeling the little chuckle the taller let out. with a few more strokes yn came inside johnny's mouth, “shit that's some good blowjob johnny” yn rode his high while johnny crawls up until he is face to face with yn, with one hand he opens the bottom's mouth and spits the sperm in there, then kisses and plays with it between their mouths.

johnny carries yn to the bathroom where they both take a bath, then get dressed and fall asleep in the bed.

“look at them, aren't they cute” yn's mom said watching them both sleeping while hugging, “yeah i think they're gonna be good brothers” the stepdad adds with a huge smile in his face.

#johnny suh x male reader #johnny seo x male reader #johnny x male reader #johnny suh x male reader smut #johnny seo x male reader smut #seo youngho x male reader #seo youngho x male reader smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut #nct x male reader #nct smut #nct 127 x male reader #nct 127 smut #nct u x male reader #nct u smut

[kika-writes]

polite cat - o.p

Warnings: Floof

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Norris!fem!reader

Summary: Oscar is polite cat

Oscar has always been able to live up to his “polite cat” reputation. Always walking around with a gentle smile on his face and greeting everyone. But it was safe to say that his smile grew a hundred times bigger and more vibrant when he saw Y/N in the garage. Y/N was Lando’s sister - she was five years younger than him, yet they seemed like twins born on different dates. The resemblance was hard not to see, in fact. She was only two years younger than Oscar, anyways, so it wasn’t that big of an age gap, surely? So there was no doubt about it when Oscar walked into the garage to see you perched on the edge of a table, that there was a massive grin on his face. You were wearing one of Lando’s collections, a brown hoodie and baggie joggers, comfortable yet you looked gorgeous. 

“Oscar!” you called, standing up quickly and waving at the Aussie. He looked over his shoulder stupidly, maybe you were talking to someone else. “Come here,” you said gesturing for him to come. He did so, all the team members watching as the young Aussie blushed, it was completely obvious to everyone that he liked you. Well, everyone except you it seemed. “You alright, mate?” Lando said teasingly, patting Oscar in the shoulder as he approached forwards. It seemed like the Brit had finally come to terms with the fact that Oscar did like his sister and she might like him back. Well, rather someone he knew and trusted. “Osc, I have something to show you,” you said, hands behind your back. And that’s when he heard it. The softest, gentlest mew. Your eyes shone brightly as you slowly moved your hands to your from, revealing the cutest thing EVER. It was a soft light brown, with huge brown eyes, the fluff of its body hanging down as it looked at Oscar, another mew leaving its mouth. It looked like Oscar.

“Guess his name!” you squealed happily, gently placing the kitten into Oscar’s arm. “I dunno, Y/N,” the Aussie smiled softly at the animal he was holding. “I’ll give you a hint. It starts with ‘O’ and ends with ‘R’ and has a ‘S-C-A’ in the middle,” you whispered jokingly. “Hmmmm, Lando?” Oscar asked, returning the same mood as you. “No, silly! It’s Oscar!” you giggled, stroking its soft head. “See the resemblance, look,” Lando re-emerged. Oscar looked down. Perfect timing - now he had a hairball on his chest. “Unlucky, mate,” Lando snorted, making the Aussie throw a glare to your brother. “Don’t ruin the moment, Lan,” you pushed him away gently. “Okay, have fun,” Lando said, but it sounded odd. Almost hinting at something? No, you were overthinking.

“Kitten,” you said, turning back to Oscar. “Very cute, Y/N,” he said. Again, you had the same feeling. Was he calling the kitten cute, or you? Neverland. You leaned forwards to kiss the little cat’s head, just when Oscar thought it would be a good idea to do the same. Both of your head collided, making you gasp as you felt a soft pain on your skull. “Oh my god, Y/N, I’m sorry are you okay?” he said, almost sounding like he was panicking. “Oscar it’s fine,” you laughed, raiding your head pecking him softly on the cheek. Oh, you were definitely gonna bring Oscar jr to more races, if it meant little encounters like these.

#oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri

[yourlocalstranger123]

Part 1

characters: Nahida, zhongli, Raiden/Ei, Scaramouche/wanderer, Xiao/alatus, Venti, dottore, Albedo, aether/lumine/traveler and abyss prince/princess, dainsleif, azhdaha, miko, celestial

Note: I put the celestials and zhongli even though I already did them because I forgot to put in what they would do if you finally are in Teyvat. Also, some characters don't have their own section, just in someone's else. [Like Miko in Ei's]

Warning: Some have slight NSFW, but technically, it's mostly SFW, slight yandere or maybe just full on yandere and obsessed. Idk-

[They all wonder why you're calling them your baby girl(s)—]

//

Celestials might be a little greedy for trying to convince or guilt trap you to stay with them a bit longer.....

//

Zhongli. [ I know I already did zhongli, but I didn't put in what happened when you finally got into teyvat] he was so thrilled. If he was in his dragon body, his tail would've been wagging like a dog. His knees became weak by your presence. He just wanted you to touch him. He finally felt the warmth...although azhdaha just had to steal you from him! He also had a dragon form, so why don't you ask him to transform into it? You could see him in a corner with a slight frown [pout]. At least he gets head pats. [He'll get spoiled sooner or later 🤭]

//

Xiao. He was loyal to zhongli for sure, but you? He is obsessed with you. When he was alatus, you were the light who he always kept precious. You gave him warmth all those torturous years. You were the reason he could endure it before zhongli had finally saved him from it. He didn't know you were the creator. But when he finally knew, he was so happy. You were always with him, giving everyone hope and the same warmth that you gave him to the others and his friends. Why are you keeping giving him tofu to summon him? He's so very grateful for your cooking and thoughts, but you don't need to. Just call his name with your beautiful voice. You still do it though, which makes him slightly flustered as you can see the tips of his ears go red as he greets you. He was so, SO flustered and shy when you let him on your lap and hug you or lay on it. His eyes went heavy as he closed them. The first time in his whole life, he had a wonderful dream....(of you)

Nahida. Honestly, she felt really happy with you. Even when she was locked away, she felt you reaching for her. She still could feel the warmth, and that's why she's still having hope for someone to save her. Since she is literally the god of knowledge, she already knew you were the creator. Honestly, when you finally went to Teyvat, she didn't expect to be your child suddenly. Although she's not complaining! She loves it when you smother her with your parently love. [You totally did not try to beat the soul out of the grand sages for locking her up, and people, even some of the archons, had to hold you down-]

//

Ei would be concerned. Who was interfering with her eternity? She didn't know how to react. She always some what felt guilty whenever she did the vision hunt degree. She ignored it all, though. Until when the traveler showed her the beauty of inazuma. It was so different from what it was before...'Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.' She thought. She had noticed that one thing that stayed the same forever was the warmth she felt. She soon found out the warmth was from the creator! Oh, she was so happy. She would make a room that would eternity be dedicated to you! When you appeared in Teyvat, she would be so dang nervous. She wants to be perfect for you. Everything must be! She was going to send Raiden in her place but didn't expect you to personally come over to her! She tried giving you a tour, but she didn't really go outside much, so....yeah, you're technically giving her one instead.. but at least you enjoy braiding her hair for her as Miko is sitting on your lap in her fox form. She's very fluffy when you pet her. [She would be so embarrassed and will malfunction if you ask how she can pull out her sword from her—]

//

Scaramouche would try to hunt you down honestly. Like who tf are you?? And where the heck are you?? (Imagine you haunt him and keep whispering, "You're shorttt") he was so ready to beat the crap out of you. But he just had to get used to it since he was busy becoming a God. And when he did, he felt your presence once again but clearer. He again ignores it and continues with the fight, which comes with a loss. He had become wanderer now, and he told Nahida that he thinks someone is stalking him. Nahida finally tells him that you're the all mighty creator. So you have been with him this whole time...? Why? He wonders If you forgive him for his sins.... why were you....calling him scarameow?? Is that perhaps another language for something? What does it mean? But it's fine. He still loves you. He got jealous one time and became a 'doll' for your entertainment. He's been doing that a few times. He liked it when one time you manhandled danced with him or even dressed him up [with lingerie]

//

Oh Venti, that drunkard bard. Oh, how he always speaks about you. He loved you so much. You always played as the wind when he was just a spirit. He always talked to you, although you can't talk, the wind tells him everything. He loved you so dearly. You always protected him in the war. You protected all the people. He understands that you can't stop people from dying of age. It's fate. But you had always accompanied him and his friend. That's all he needs, and he's grateful for it. He already knew you were the creator. The wind tells him everything. He didn't think that he would accidentally make the creator drunk! He promised he was drunk when he offered a drink to you! Or when he falls happily on your lap and arms by falling from the tree that was surrounded by a cat. [He also didn't expect the wonderful view of you on the side of the bed.....naked.....wait, WHAT— [ I mean...he's not complaining besides not having the ability to walk...or think anything besides you and how good you fu—]

//

Oh dottore. At first, he did not at all care about you. Even when worshipping the creator was public and a thing, he wasn't exactly dedicated. Until he found some ancient script of mechanics and bunch of successful experiments of creatures you did. He did some research and it turns out that those creatures was friendly to you and you did those experiments not so gruesome. So that's why they didn't hold a grudge at you. He became more interested and now it's apart of the research he's doing. And even experiments perhaps. He didn't know thr warm fuzzy feeling in his chest when he saw you smile in those ancient script. Although he may have kept it all a secret until all of the harbingers [except scaramouche because this is the time where he erases himself from all memories] finally found out about it. Oh how he felt when he finally gazes at your body. You looked so much better in the script. He always seek you out for experiments and research. You have the knowledge that even Irminsul doesn't have. Although his constant touch, glances and the way he looks at you with a slight red face doesn't go unnoticed by you when he conduct an experiment on you. [He couldn't forget the 'experiment' conduct on you last night ♥︎]

○ —○ — ○ — experimenters— ○ —○ — ○ — ○

Albedo. He's exactly opposite from dottore at the start, he was obsessed with you. He worshiped you with so many new creations from his experiments and thanked you for uniting him with Klee. At first, he didn't know about you and was curious why he always felt a comforting presence until aunt Alice told him that it was you, their creator, his creator.

He found statues of you that were cracked and was leaking a certain gold liquid. There was scroll. It seems that you made it with your own blood. He researched your statue and conducted careful experiments. He was a little...too fascinated about your body. Drawing you in robes, poses, and even....drew doing stuff to him. He took such care and worshiped it as if it was really you.... you looked way more divine than the statue that you carved yourself. He always wanted you to ask you....."What's the purpose of me existing?"

[You can insert your thoughts if you want, but here's my response to it]

"(1.) There's none. You just exist. I just create you. But...(2.) You can make yourself a purpose. A reason to live out your lives I gave you all. Like you, perhaps you make your own purpose to live is to make Klee happy."

His eyes glinted as you chuckled. He had been in deep thought for a few weeks. Then suddenly, he smiled. 'Perhaps.....'

Dottore and Albedo would 10/10 would be literal vampires. Including zhongli, I swear. The moment they taste your blood as an experiment or accident, they will crave for more. (I know they will literally moan in delight when they tasted it.)

//

Traveler and abyss prince/princess. How they both felt it. Your warmth. Traveler accepts it with open arms. Traveler thanked you for supporting them to find their sibling. But the abyss prince/princess isn't so fond about accepting it. They don't need your pity.... but they guess they can take it once in a while, you did offer to them, didn't you? Oh, Dainsleif. He doesn't think he should accept it. He wants to, but he is not worthy. But once in a while, when he falls asleep, his lips curve into a smile as he bask in your warmth. They can be selfish, right? You did offer you warmth after all..... The abyss prince/princess tries to kidnap— I mean *cough* *cough* take you away but the Traveler holds onto your arm, not letting go. The abyss prince/princess argues that when the time comes after they finally finish their journey, they can find a home with you! But the traveler pouts and still won't budge. Dainsleif just watches in the background, conflicted. Although....that doesn't mean he didn't have the desire to keep you with him either...

#genshin impact sagau #yandere sagau #genshin sagau #sagau genshin #sagau x reader #yandere genshin sagau #yandere sagau genshin impact #genshin sagau x reader #sagau x you #sagau zhongli #sagau nahida #sagau ei #sagau scaramouche #sagau wanderer #sagau xiao #sagau alatus #sagau venti #sagau dottore #sagau albedo #sagau aether #sagau lumine #sagau dainsleif #sagau yae miko #genshin yandere #genshin impact yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x you #various x reader #genshin impact

[particular-one]

oh, i was raised on little light.

synopsis. 5 times that blade listed every reason why he can never be with someone like you, and the 1 time you proved him wrong. pairing. blade x gn! reader cw. hurt/comfort, a lil angsty on blade's part with brief mentions of blade's insistence on dying, implicit spoilers about blade's lore in general author's note. i have been itching to write a 5+1 fic for the longest time now....i was listening to northern attitude and it reminded me of blade so bad. hello blade nation i know i understand why he’s so angst-ridden appealing to write for 🙁

when blade met you for the first time, everything in him knew you would be different from the rest of the group. you were the newest addition to the stellaron hunters, whom elio took a great fascination towards — why so, he never figured out, but this landed you in the same ranks as him, kafka and silverwolf.

you easily found a friend in both kafka and silverwolf; blade knew that much because he had watched as you indulged in kafka's innate interest in beauty despite the clear confusion in your eyes. he had seen how you would chat with silverwolf about the latest games that she's invested most of her time into.

but he would merely observe you; if, in any way, you had tried to interact with him, he would brush you off with a cold shoulder, never responding to your rather inquisitive words about him.

he didn't understand why you wanted to know so much about him, nor did he expect to be greeted with the same smile and greeting despite constantly keeping you at arm's length.

that was when he knew that you were too nice for your own good, but most of all, you were too nice to someone like him, who'd push you away even when every inch of his soul did not want to.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the second time was when you had accidentally found out about his despondency with immortality's curse and in turn, everything that blade had wanted to hide from you.

when you had approached him about it, blade immediately went on the defensive and angrily asked you to stay away from him. he didn't — couldn't bear to see the hurt in your eyes when he snapped at you, thus, the stellaron hunter turned his back on you and fled. which had exactly been the source of the never ending spiral of thoughts that was slowly consuming every fibre of his being.

he's done it now. he's blown any chance that he could form anything meaningful in this ruined life of his.

he had not noticed your presence in the common room, until you made a clanging noise that was the result of two porcelain cups making contact. blade was startled to see you here, especially when he had just uttered those spiteful words to you. he stood up to take his leave, when you called his name.

even the way you said his name had a gentle tenderness to it; he hated how melodious your voice had sounded, hated how he watched as you gingerly set down two porcelain tea cups filled with jasmine tea, one quite noticeably for him, hated how you took the seat in front of him and told him that you were sorry, and that if he ever needed someone to talk to, that you would always be there for him.

but most of all, he hated how his heart rose at your promise, and how much he clung to your words since that night. all the while fully knowing that he could never subject you to being intertwined with the likes of him.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the third time was much more of a painful wakeup call — quite literally. blade had always prided himself in diving straight first into battle without a single thought, desperate to die and get on with it. this mission was no different, but now you had been watching over him and ready to provide support if needed.

today's battle was much more vicious than his usual ones, but blade had always enjoyed the thrill of fighting. it had been the uncertainty of whether it would finally be his time that allured the stellaron hunter.

but… things had gone quite differently today. for the first time, blade was not seething in his obsession to die when he had seen you valiantly fight off the enemies that had threatened to overwhelm him. ha, as if they could.

he had not noticed that one was charging straight at him with his spear raised, and for a split second could quite literally see his long life flash before his eyes just as he narrowly avoided a fatal injury if it weren’t for the fact that you shouted for his name.

"stay still. i still need to bandage your side." your voice had inevitably brought him back to reality, just as you wiped off the last of his injuries with a warm towel. you had insisted on patching up his wounds yourself, and even when blade had told you that it would just magically heal by himself, he learned that day that it was rather hard to say no to you when you pleaded.

also, he could barely say no when he saw how you were radiating in concern and worry for him. not to mention how your eyes had gleamed like stars in the sky, but that was besides the point.

at the touch of your hand, blade suddenly winced at the contact. you immediately retracted your hand and mumbled an apology, but blade could see that your eyes was moving towards where he covered up the scars he's accumulated for fighting for over a century.

"are you wondering about my scars?" you seemed rather surprised at his question, but most likely due to the sudden indulgence to what you had been obviously looking at.

you slowly nodded. "do they still hurt?"

"not anymore." not any more than his painstaking wish to be free from the shackles of immortality.

you had started to set down the alcohol and bandages on the floor just as blade averted his gaze from you. the silence that proceeded was rather deafening, even for someone like blade who would rather sit in uncomfortable silence than deal with something intimate.

which was ... quite the contradiction to what he had previously allowed you to do, but you had slowly become the exception to many things in his life.

"there, all done. don't be too reckless next time, okay?" you smiled at your handiwork, and even if blade couldn't exactly benefit from whatever you had just done, he somehow felt a thousand times better than he's ever felt in a century. a flicker of a smile could unmistakably be seen in his features, and whether you had caught that or not, he saw you grinning all the same.

on a normal day, blade would have found himself grumbling about losing yet another chance at death, but instead, here he was, smiling at you.

the thought of dying at last had evidently crossed his mind more than once, but never did the thought of dying for someone else. blade very well knew that he could never be that selfless; maybe he had been once upon a time, but that had only costed him the sweet liberation of death.

and yet, the fact that he feels that greatly for you was enough to keep him up the rest of the night, the image of your blinding smile forever seared in his mind.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the fourth time these thoughts had started to creep up to him again was when the both of you coincidentally crossed paths at an ungodly hour, that you had the bright idea to go gaze at the stars together.

the thought of doing something together made his heart clench, but blade, against his better judgement, allowed you to take his hand in yours as you searched for the perfect spot to watch the stars from from their location.

the skies were clear that night, as if the universe had anticipated that two sleepless beings would be standing at the dock and watch the stars align before their very eyes. with a watchful eye, he stared as you could hardly contain your own excitement. "look, look! there's the brightest star — oh, i never thought we could get such a proximate view from here!" you kept flailing your hand everywhere and he wondered where exactly you had found that energy.

that was when he realized you had never let go of his hand, and instinctively, blade found himself clenching your hand in an attempt to let go. noticeably, your gaze flicked towards him, a momentary glance but the emotion it held in it was enough to send a chill down his spine. he could feel your grip on his hand loosen slightly, but blade didn't want to be a fool any longer.

something in him told him to keep holding onto you, as his fingers interlocked with your hand and held it firmly. blade could hear your breath hitch at his sudden gesture, but naturally, you just smiled and squeezed his hand back.

oh, how your smile had always made his heart ache.

"beautiful, isn't it?" you whispered under your breath, as your eyes were now fixed on the sky above the both of you. the world felt dangerously quiet, but he did not mind the fleeting peace it gave him. blade simply hummed in approval, his mind lost in the moment but he never found the urge to peel his eyes away from you.

to him, you were the brightest star that night and how he foolishly hoped that you’d never get tired of shining your light on him.

“yes, it is.” but foolish dreamers could never get what they want.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the fifth time was the last time, the time where blade had fully convinced himself that he could not possibly get involved with someone as great as you.

you were sitting across from him as you shared another cup of tea with him. blade could vividly remember the first time he had done this with you like it had only happened yesterday. still, it had been months since then — but you still haven't changed at all.

"is there something in your cup?" blade hadn't realized that his gaze became fixed on the porcelain cup that you handed to him minutes ago, that he barely even touched it. "no. it’s nothing.”

whether you had sensed his avoidance or not, you didn’t comment on it further. blade ended up taking a sip of his tea just as you were fiddling with the detailed carvings on your cup. now, it was probably his turn to sense that you had been avoiding something. “is there something on your mind?”

you looked up at him suddenly, no doubt wondering if blade had just said what he said — not that blade was particularly good at providing a form of care like you did, but his silence had always made him a good listener.

“you know, i really appreciate that you’re spending time with me.” you started, as blade watched your fingers graze over your cup for the millionth time, a habit that you had often done when you were nervous. how he knew that was something he’ll take to the grave.

blade didn’t say a word, only resorting to taking another sip from his tea. what was there to say? that he felt the same but a million times more in magnitude? it would be uncharacteristic of him to admit something that embarrassing. maybe, it had been his lack of response, that you continued to talk.

“sorry, i know you would prefer much quieter companions,” you spoke with a suppressed laugh, the same distinct chuckle that blade could recognise even from a mile away. “truthfully, i thought you even disliked me.”

it was his turn to be perplexed, as blade looked up to meet your gaze that was … on him. you sheepishly smiled at the sudden confession, before you took a big gulp of your tea. his head was spinning, and maybe it had been something in the tea, but blade could feel his tongue loosen with the many things he had been holding back. “i did. i do.”

a twinge of hurt crossed your eyes for a moment, before you casted your eyes downward. “oh.”

“i hated how nice you are,” he blurted out. “i hated how you would look at me with a great deal of concern in your eyes like i am someone to be pitied.”

“i hated how you’d still try to be there and talk to me, even when i had pushed you away before.”

“i hated how you are able to read me like the back of your hand. i hated how you could easily make me feel safe with your smile.” blade had wanted to stop talking, but the words kept going.

“i hated how gently you would tend to my scars, how your eyes would sparkle at the mention of something you love and how downright mesmerizing it is for me.” he watched as your eyes widened, before they were plunged in a tirade of emotions that were no doubt a result to his words.

he wasn’t finished yet, though.

“but most of all, i hated how whenever i’m around you, or even think about you, dying is the last thing i’d ever wish for.”

the uncomfortable silence settled in between them again, save for the whirring of the machines that blade was suddenly grateful for. he couldn’t bear to even look up at you, lest he’d see the hurt in your eyes again. “blade...”

“sorry. that was very unbecoming of me. i can go.”

“blade...” he took the last gulp of his tea before bringing the cup down with a clang. “thank you. for the tea, as always—”

“blade.” he looked up to finally meet your gaze that was only a breath away from him, before he could feel your hand gently cradling his cheek before you leaned your forehead against his.

oh. oh. you didn’t say anything more but still singlehandedly calmed his largest worries with just a simple gesture.

“you know, you could have just told me you liked me a lot.” typically, the cheeky and teasing tone in your voice would make him groan, but only this time, he allowed himself to smile. “also, what did you mean by the tea?”

now he was confused. “didn’t you give me tea?” you shook your head. “what the hell was that then?”

you could hardly suppress a grin. “you said you wanted rice wine one time, so …” so that’s why all those words spilled out of him … a groan escaped blade just as you laughed at his mishap, but not that he completely regretted it.

he knew that no matter what he did, he could never deserve someone like you — but he would choose to die for you a million times, that much was certain.

but for now, blade could most definitely contend for choosing to live for you instead.

written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)

#blade x reader #blade honkai #hsr blade #blade x y/n #blade x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade hsr #hsr x you #hsr #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail scenarios #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail blade #hsr fluff #5 + 1 fic #honkai star rail fic #honkai star rail oneshots #blade angst #blade fluff #hsr angst #hsr fanfic #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #star rail #star rail x reader #hsr x y/n #star rail x y/n #·˚ * 🔭 carlyle writes

[jienem]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊

Sypnosis: The reader didn't know what caused her to fall asleep thus Vil planned to help her.

Warning: the reader is not Yuu but a dorm member of Pomefiore.

Your body feels heavy. Despite your best efforts at keeping awake, you felt your head betraying you in favor of sleepiness that started to creep in. You always rested enough to function for the day, but for the past few weeks, you started to fall asleep without meaning to. You visited a doctor for your strange occurrence, yet their answer was nothing, nothing too concerning. You tried other clinics, but they said the same. Just rest a lot more but you knew it wasn't simple. You thought your situation was a fragment of your imagination but your current predicament says otherwise.

You avoided some students nearby and waited for them to leave, then allowed your sluggish figure to slump on the ground as you laid your back on the wall. You inhaled some air, feeling your consciousness slip away. You were exhausted already, despite the sky's indication for today. You weren't too keen on your housewarden's scolding if he learned you missed an hour of class or two. But you couldn't move a muscle.

No doubt, if someone saw you, they would tell the housekeeper about you slacking off from class. It wasn't rare for someone to be caught doing such a thing, but you don't want a record for bad behavior during your time at NRC. You survived for the last two years; your third year wouldn't be any different.

But as you tried to stand up, you couldn't maintain your balance for a second before you fell again and couldn't get up without getting dizzy. With your current situation, going to the classroom would be out of the question. You would be dozing off for the rest of the lesson, and having your vice-housewarden as your classmate would no doubt relay the information to the housewarden. On the other hand, the mirror towards the dorm would be one of your options, but the risk of someone noticing you would be higher. The better option would be the infirmary. Crewel-sensei must know something about your predicament, but the thought of him dismissing your illness as fatigue would probably trouble you more.

You were totally lost as to what to do.

Still, asking him would still be the best, and you couldn't know until you tried. With that in mind, you tried to stay awake and lay your hand on the wall for support. But just after a few steps, you felt a presence behind you, looming over your figure. You turn around and gasp as you notice your housewarden's frowning gaze upon you. He was wearing the Pomefiore dorm uniform, indicating he had just come from the meeting. He wasn't using his usual hairstyle in favor of tying it behind his back. His light blonde hair glistened under the sun's brightness from the window, enhancing his beauty, but the sight of him makes you panic.

"Why aren't you back at your class? The bell rang a few minutes ago."

You were quiet as he waited for your answer. But as you just tried to explain, your head feels lighter, and you can't control your sleepiness anymore. The last thing you remember is the way his eyes widened before calling out your name.

.

.

.

Sometime later, you wake up in the infirmary. The ceiling greeted your vision as you tried to flutter your droopy eyes. You notice the sun's brightness has turned orange, indicating you have been asleep for a long time. You weren't surprised by how it turned out.

You glance around for any signs of your housewarden, but it seems he has already left. Though You weren't sure if you were off the hook or if sometime later there would be punishment waiting for you, You just hoped it would be the latter.

"What is this, falling asleep in the middle of the day? Didn't I remind you to sleep early at night?" Crewel asked as he noticed you were awake. You sit up from the bed, and frankly enough, you are still sleepy. Crewel noticed you were still unresponsive and gave you a bottle of liquid. You held the bottle up in your face as you stared. Curious.

"That potion was supposed to help you stay awake for a few hours," he replied as he noticed your confusion. You nodded your head, but the thought made you frown. You tried one of these after a few days of your supposed illness and even tried to make one that could help, yet none of them worked. But the scent rolling from the inside was much stronger than the one you drank before; maybe it will work?

You drank most of the liquid, yet you feel disappointed. The potion effect still didn't work the way you wished. Even if it wasn't, you were grateful to Crewel-sensei for giving you the potion. Drinking the remnants from the bottle, you didn't notice another person enter the infirmary until they were near enough.

"Oh my, Mademoiselle Little Flower! How are you? Did you sleep well? Does your curse happen a lot?-" His voice surprised you while Crewel left for his class in the afternoon.

Your vice-housewarden, Rook Hunt, started to ask you many questions, but you got lost in the middle. Dumbfounded. You wondered why he was here instead of waiting for you back at the dorm. Was it Vil who requested your presence as soon as possible? Wait, he did mention something about a curse.

"Forgive me for cutting off your questions, Vice-Housewarden, but ah, you mention a curse?" You frowned. You didn't have time to ponder more when he nodded his head as if it answered everything.

"Oui, Mademoiselle! Your condition was living proof of that. Come,  let's go back to the dorm. Roi de Poison would explain more about your condition."

He didn't indulge you with more information and waited for you to stand up on your own. Instead of asking more questions, you stayed silent as you followed him away from the infirmary. You sometimes notice how he glances at your figure as you walk, keeping an eye out for you if you suddenly stumble without notice. You were grateful yet at the same time annoyed by how you felt as if someone had to help you with the most simple task, such as walking.

"Am I in trouble for not attending class earlier?" You asked after silence passed between the two of you. He laughs, and you realize your question sounds as if a child would get scolded by a parent. You flush in embarrassment. Thankfully, he took mercy on you, even just for a second, as he answered, still shaken from laughter.

"He was not Mademoiselle little Flower. He just wishes you should have said something about your condition earlier so he wouldn't be worried. You frightened our Roi de Poison, you see." Somehow, imagining Vil-san's worried expression about your passed out body was embarrassing. Out of all people, it had to be your strict housewarden to witness your devastating and unflattering moment.

You didn't speak a lot, but Rook didn't seem to mind your silence as he was busy praising Vil-san's beauty. Though you made some comments here and there, you chuckled a lot more when he exaggerated Vil-san's inspiring speeches.

Once back at the dorm, you notice your housewarden in the lounge, who is still wearing the clothes he was wearing earlier while talking to another student. The student carries two different shades of fabric as Vil scrutinizes each of them. He motioned his hand over the other one, complimenting the shade, before the other person nodded. Rook greeted Vil gleefully as he dismissed the other student. Vil turned to Rook, acknowledging him before he gazed upon your form. His eyes analyzed you as you mumbled your apology.

"Housewarden, I sincerely apologize for passing out on you earlier." You bowed, your hair covering the side of your face. His heeled boots appeared in your vision before his fingers held your chin up to look at him.

"Nothing to apologize for, my dear. Tell me, how are you?" You composed yourself under his gaze and let your hands fall to your sides. "I'm fine Housewarden."

He nodded and turn you side by side. You stayed still under his gaze as he ponder. "You can call me Vil. Tell me, when did your curse appeared?"

"A few weeks ago, around the time when we had a small celebration with our dorm." you answered truthfully, watching how their eyes frowned. Vil seems more conserved, while Rook seems thoughtful. You wanted to dismiss their concerns, but if you mentioned it to them, they would absolutely disagree.

"How many times does your curse become active for a day?" You paused, still a bit surprised at the term of the curse upon you. Back to the question: it was very complicated, to say the least. Sometimes it was different; rather than falling asleep, you would often feel lightheaded for the rest of the day, so you didn't know if your curse was active or not. You zoned out for a while, and Vil hit your head lightly to get your attention.

"How rude of you to zone out when we are talking." he scolded.

"My apologies, Vil-san. It's just, it's complicated. There were often times I fell asleep twice a day and it only lasted for twenty minutes; on the other hand, there wasn't at all, but rather I felt lightheaded for the rest of the day." You pursed your lips before continuing. "But these days, it's gotten worse. I tried to brew one that could help my cond-ah curse, but it wasn't strong enough." Your voice was silent on the end. There was silence until Vil folded his arm and said,

"Well, what do you think, Rook? Do you know something?" Vil turned to his second-command, and you did too. The two of you waited for his reply, but the hunter shrugged his shoulders, holding his hands in the air.

"Non non, at all."

Vil sighed at his second-command's lack of insight before turning to you once more. "Did you receive some gifts of some kind from anyone?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no."

Vil nodded, and you felt useless for not thinking too much. Rook clapped his hand, earning both of your attention, and Vil looked at him expectantly. Rook had his signature grin on his face as he pulled the two of you into his arms. You chuckle lightly while Vil looks dissatisfied. His uniform was getting wrinkled.

"My apologies, Roi de Poison, but let's enjoy this day before we think of a solution to Mademoiselle little Flower here, hm? What do you say, Roi de Poison?"

Vil was a little peeved by Rook's antics before nodding his approval. "Y/N, I'll personally talk to the teachers about your condition. I will let you know the details and what plans we were about to make tomorrow morning. Do you understand?"

"Vil-"

"Do you understand?"

You reluctantly nodded, and Rook instantly let go of the both of you, still grinning while Vil patted some wrinkles on his clothes. You bowed deeply to your Housewarden and vice with gratitude.

"Thank you so much for looking out for my wellbeing, Vil-san and Rook-san. I promise I will do my best despite my unfortunate circumstances; please bear with my presence for a while." You lifted your head only to see Rook wiping the tears from his eyes while Vil frowned at his behavior.

"Such a wonderful speech! Y/N-san. The curse you alone must face, the pain and sorrows you must endure, I truly hope you reach your happy ending, Mademoiselle little flower. Beauté, Marvelous!"

You chuckled uncertainly before turning to Vil with a smile. "If you excuse me, Housewarden, you bowed once more while Vil nodded. "Of course you must be exhausted, do you not? Rest; your complexion wouldn't do you any favors if you stayed up late." Somehow you had a feeling that not even a few minutes after you had gone into your bedroom, you'd fall asleep on the ground. Thankfully, your roommate was away for a while.

You smiled one last time before you left, leaving the two of them in the lounge. Rook glanced at his housekeeper with a knowing look in his eyes. "So what do you think, Vil?" He put his hand on his waist while watching the said person feign ignorance.

"I suspect something, but it was too early to tell. I suggest we monitor her for now; I'll be leaving now." Vil dismissed himself. His heels clanged on the ground before fading, leaving the vice-housewarden in his record.

"I do wonder."

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[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 6: Thoughts of you /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N spends a whole day exploring Velaris with Lucien.

Word Count: 2,9K

Warnings: Cursing and lots of jealousy hehehe

Notes: I love Lulu so fucking much.

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Lucien moved gracefully around, hands resting behind his back as he greeted everyone one by one, he passed by Elain, just a tiny nod of his head as he knew she wouldn’t accept more than this and he truly  respected her wishes. Azriel saw how she winced at the barely glance in her direction and how her hands closed in fists when he gently picked up Y/N’s hand and brought it to his lips before adding.

“I’m Lucien Vanserra.” Azriel hated him. He saw a shy smile creep up on her face, making her nod her head and offer him her name in return. “Looks like we’re going to spend a lot of time together.” 

“I guess we are.” She replied, pulling her hand back to her lap. 

Y/N had seen how Elain had reacted when Lucien approached her, the last thing she wanted was a jealous female breathing on her neck, despite her being with Azriel. He wasn’t that different, chest puffed and a scowl on his face, if she really would spend a lot of time with Lucien, she would totally ask him about it. 

She felt the sleep starting to take over her thoughts, the day had been absolutely draining and her ribs still hurt a lot with every breath she took. So she slowly got up, exchanging a few goodbyes and promising to be up early to meet with Lucien so they could share what they knew with each other. Azriel’s gaze burned holes in her body as she left the scene.

He had no claim over her, and his girlfriend was sitting by his side, with the same sour mood and frown on her face as he was. He understood that for her it was because of the bond, but what excuse did he have for his behaviour? For that burning sensation at the nape of his neck, the simmering anger from seeing someone you love flirting with someone else. 

He knew Lucien was naturally gentle, in a way he would never be. And the interaction had nothing much about it, but still. He watched her leave, her body slightly curved like she was in pain, he acted before he thought, following her with quick steps. She was already by her door when he cleared his throat.

“Are you alright?” She turned to him, a grimace expression as she turned too fast.

“Yeah yeah, don’t worry.” She reassured him and he scoffed. “Just a few scratches.”

“Clearly.” She took a deep breath. “I’m serious, if you need anything just ask me. I have some potions for pain.” She nodded. 

“Thank you, Az.” His eyes widened a little at his nickname slipping from her plump lips. “Azriel!” She quickly corrected herself, blue staining her cheeks as she blushed in embarrassment. 

“Az it’s fine, if you prefer to call me that way.” She avoided his gaze, and he found her really beautiful blushing furiously like that, he enjoyed having her flustered because of him. 

“Good night.” She said, going inside her room.

“Good night, Y/N.” She liked the sound of her name in his voice. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Sleeping was hard, she had downed the potion in one sip, frowning at the bitter taste, but despite feeling better, her mind couldn’t rest, still thinking about what those dreams meant. She always thought that the moment she finally met him, they would run to each other's arms and profess their unconditional love. 

She guessed that luck wasn’t really on her side, after so many years, she was finally ready to love again and here she was, stuck in another world and having conflicting feelings towards an already taken male. Everything was a fucking mess. 

Ruvyn had ruined love, he didn’t even have to rip her heart out of her chest with his own hands because she was fool enough to give it to him at her own free will. And since then she hasn't allowed to feel any romantic feelings towards anyone, no one was going to hurt her ever again. 

But once again, here she was, thinking about the male just across the hall, wanting to tell him about the dreams, wanting to tell her that despite never seeing him, he had helped her heal, that he was important for her and she was glad that he was there with her, despite everything. She was a fucking fool. 

Azriel wasn’t doing any better in his own room, sitting with a towel around his hips, hair dripping cold water on his torso and back. His eyes were glued to his door, like he could see past it and straight to her room, where he supposed she was asleep. 

The ways she had said his nickname, that thick accent of hers accentuating the two letters. He had heard it in that same way so many times, more than he could count, but his heart remembered every single one of them. Because it was the voice of his muse, the female that walked in his dreams and lulled him to a peaceful rest. 

Always with a kind word to him, sparing his damaged heart from further suffering. She had held him so many times, laid his head on her lap while she brushed her hands on his dark locks, calming him down like no one was ever able to do before. 

He remembered her now, the softness of her hair, the plump lips always curved in a grin, the blue coating her cheeks whenever he preached about her beauty until the void swallowed his words and kept them forever. Those mesmerising eyes, the same colour as a raging storm. 

And suddenly all those feelings made sense, he had no claim over her because she was a free female, but she was his, and had been for all the years he dreamed about her. He opened his heart to her and he was quick to let her make her permanent home in it. 

His thoughts then turned towards the female down the hall, he knew Elain decided to stay because of Lucien and not really because of him, he loved her, didn’t he? He had chosen to go against his brother’s wishes for the first time because of her, but was it really love or he was just settling on the idea of never seeing Y/N in person? 

Deciding to try and forget her despite his heart's protests. It wasn’t fair with Elain and he knew it. But wasn’t she just doing the same to him? He remembered her drunken form clinging to him, rambling about how she hadn't given Lucien a chance yet because she didn’t want anyone telling her who she should love, let alone some old, dusty pan. He had dared to ask if it wasn’t for the Cauldron, would she seek Lucien out? Her silence and refusal to look him in the eyes told him everything he needed to know. 

He let his body fall back, hitting the matters. His head felt heavy and he desperately needed to sleep, but as the hours passed by, he couldn’t stop his frantic mind and watched as the sunshine started to creep up through his curtains and he released a tired groan, getting up to train. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The two sat opposite each other, but the same tired expression and dark circles under their eyes like neither of them had a bit of sleep last night. Y/N sipped on a mug of hot coffee and silently stared at him. He did the same, hands holding a mug that never reached his lips, his food untouched. 

So many things he wanted to say, but he didn’t even know where to begin. He opened his mouth to try but Lucien entered the room, saying his good morning and sitting by her side. He watched as the two talked about what they had planned for the day. 

“Do you know Velaris already?” She shook her head in denial, she hadn't left the house, just to fly with Meraxes and neither of them was even bored to ask if she wanted to meet the city, he felt like a shitty host. “We can go later, I can show you around.”

“That sounds lovely Lucien, thank you.” Lucien was a nice male and she could easily see herself becoming friends with him, her mind drifted to another male who would love to be friends with him. She missed Fenrys. 

A few minutes later the two were ready to leave the house, Lucien offered her his arm and Azriel sat there seething as he watched them walk away arm in arm and talking like old friends. 

Velaris was as beautiful up close as it was from the sky. People greeted him and looked at her curiously, different scents filled the air, music sounded and she couldn’t keep her eyes in just one place, clothes, books, jewellery and every little thing she could see caught her attention. 

“Feyre talked a little about your situation, but how are you feeling about everything?” He asked as they stopped near a river he had told her was called Sidra. 

“It’s so weird when I wake up and it takes a while to realise I’m not home. I feel so lonely all the time, and the idea of nothing going home terrifies me.” He watched her, she was looking as the water kept its daily routine. 

“I lost my home more times than I can count, so if you ever feel like it’s too much, you have a place in the Band of Exiles for you.” She looked up at him. 

“That’s really kind of you.” She smiled at him, the sun coating her skin in a warming glow. “Thank you.” 

They stood there in silence for a couple of minutes, just hearing the sounds around them, a peaceful quietness of people living their lives. Everything was so chaotic and loud for so long, wyverns fighting, Crochans screaming, blood dripping, winds roaring, people dying. It was nice to hear that silence. 

“It’s so peaceful.” She started. “Nothing like where I came from.” Lucien hummed in agreement. 

“Yeah, I understand the feeling.” 

She then shared with him her story, about how the Ironteeth killed the Crochans and how Rhiannon cursed their land and they were forced into exile for 500 years, until the last Crochan queen freed them. How they were raised in violence and savagery, bloodlust warriors that never knew love. 

She didn’t know why, but he had this softness in him, this comforting aura that made her feel comfortable enough to share those things with him, and he just listened attentively, nodding his head and accepting her story. 

Her lips started to form the story of how on her seventeen birthday, when she wasn’t under the protection of the elders anymore, a group of Yellowlegs tried to go for her, they wanted to torture her for fun and to teach her a lesson. How a 5 years older than her Asterin stopped them, doing with them what they planned to do with her. How since then Asterin always looked after her, treating her like a younger sister and how she learned what love was with her. 

Despite everything they were teached, Asterin was kind. She was the force that kept her going, until she wasn’t there anymore to keep her standing. She left out the part about Ruvyn, still too hurt to share this with anyone, her endless shame about how she let him trick her. She also left out the part of where she was forced to help with Asterin’s birth and how she took her stillborn baby away from the Matron’s hands. How she had suffered from that, still carrying the marks of her choices on her skin. 

When she finished, she felt the tears falling, quickly wiping them away, feeling the shame take over her once again. Lucien turned to her fully, his hands grabbing hers in a reassuring grip. 

“You’ve been through so much, you’re so strong and I’m happy I have met you.” He sounded genuine and she could only return that. And then it was his time to tell his story.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The two of them returned to the house at dinner time, they had talked about their current problems. She shared what she knew about the Valg and he shared about his problems with Koschei and how he wanted to help Vassa out of his spell. 

Koschei’s powers sounded awfully familiar to her, and she had a suspicion that he either was possessed by a Valg, or he was somehow a Valg prince, which would make sense if he was summoning Ridderaks and making spells like the one he did for Vassa. The only part that didn’t make any sense was turning her into a firebird, as valgs weren’t very fond of the element. 

She had asked him to take her to the lake, to see Koschei and investigate the surroundings of his home, anything that could tell her more about him. Lucien had agreed but he was going to talk with Rhysand first to make sure they were all on the same page about their next steps. If her suspicions were correct, she could bet he had a wyrdkey somewhere in that cabin, one that could take her home, if she managed to reopen the gate Aelin closed. 

She had taken Lucien to meet Meraxes before the two went inside, talking about Meraxes taking a look at him and rolling his eyes before he sneezed on top of Lucien. The two laughed as they walked inside, the family once again gathered on the dinner table.

“I see you two had a nice day in town.” Feyre spoke, she looked at the two with a confident gleam, like she knew putting the two together would work. 

“We sure did.” The male agreed while Y/N gave her a thumbs up. 

“How are your ribs?” Nesta asked concerned, she had seen how ugly the wound was. 

“They are better, I have to see that lovely lady again in two days.” Nesta nodded. 

“I’ll go with you.” She offered and Y/N smiled at her, she liked Nesta, despite not spending that much time with her, something about the female made her really fond of her. 

“I appreciate it.” She winked at Nesta. “I can give you a ride.” Cassian growled. 

“My mate just rides me.” The whole table burst out laughing. 

“I’m sure she does, big boy.” Y/N replied and he shook his head in her direction. 

Lucien passed her a goblet of wine, and the two sat together in the remaining seats, plates appearing for them and they started to fill it with food. 

“I decided that we should go to Hewn City in four days.” Rhysand announced and she raised an eyebrow at him. 

“It’s a part of our court, tell you the details later.” Nesta whispered her way. 

“You’re invited to go, we heard of some older books there that could be helpful.” Rhys dipped his chin towards Y/N.

“Yeah, the more we have, the better.” Feyre clapped. 

“Good, Lucien will go as our emissary and you as his companion.” Feyre had already asked him and he was totally fine with that. “We can also enjoy the opportunity to ask Eris if he knows anything about it.” 

“Eris will be there?” Lucien asked. 

“He will, is this okay for you?” Feyre asked with worry. 

“It’s fine Feyre, thank you.” Lucien took a sip of his own wine. “It’s just been a while since I saw him away from Beron, that’s all.” 

“I’ll be there with you, I can scare whoever tries to do anything away.” She clicked her jaw, releasing her teeth and giving him a big smile. Lucien laughed. 

“Thank you.” Someone smashed their glass against the table, and Y/N turned her head to see a very angry Azriel looking at them and a raging Elain. 

“Can we have a talk? In private?” She flared her nose, hands shaking slightly. 

“After dinner I would love to talk to you, but now I’m eating.” Elain started to shake even more, that would be a fun talk. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The chill air of the night made her body shiver, she had followed Elain outside, her frame a good amount of inches taller than her, her frame towering Elain’s delicate one. 

“So…” She started with boredom, hands resting on the fence behind her. “What did you want to talk about?” 

“I want you to get away from Lucien.” She ordered, and Y/N felt the urge to laugh. 

“I thought you were Azriel’s girlfriend.” She said, a grin plastered on her face and an eyebrow raised. 

“That doesn’t matter.” Elain marched towards her. “Get away from my mate.” She pointed a finger towards her, poking her chest. Y/N pushed her body away from the fence, standing against Elain.

“First, no.” Elain scoffed. 

“What do you mean no?” 

“Exactly that, no! I need him to help me and I’ll help him with his friend in any way I can, you bubbling with anger and threatening me won’t change that.” She took a step forward, forcing Elain to take one backwards. “And second, don’t play with him, he’s a nice male and doesn’t deserve this kind of shit. Either you dump your little boyfriend and rightfully claim your mate, or you can get the fuck away from him and leave him live his life as he pleases.” 

“Who do you think you are to talk about this?” Elain deflated, her words hitting exactly where they were meant to be. 

“I’m no one.” Y/N turned to walk away from her. “I’m just very good at observation.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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