#for sparking this friendship in the first place

[madamekenobi]

Imagine you and Anakin Skywalker decide to play truth and dare…(+21)

***

He comes for a visit, that Jedi who once helped you out with enemies who used you as a shield against these knights. He saved you and you two ended up becoming friends… even though part of you wishes for more.

But you keep things to yourself out of respect for him and his long term girlfriend, Padme Amidala. You still keep these sparks of attraction buried deep even after they broke up.

Friendship is worthier than sentimental bullshit, you decide it. But there are moments when nights are too warm and, lonely, you use your hand in between your legs thinking of him. Wishing he’d do naughty things to you. Your friends once suggested looking for casual flings to help you out but what does it matter? You simply don’t work that way.

You then get yourself dressed casually. You pick a black shirt with strap, finding no need to use your bra, and a black & red skirt plus wearing high heels because Anakin is tall.

Just as you are preparing to receive him, bell rings. And when you go opening the door, Anakin nearly falls back. He never expected to see you like this. His eyes seem to notice your curves for the first time and he likes what he sees.

“Holy Moly”, he whistles. “All this for me, Y/N?”

Your face goes instantly red at his bold remark. Though you do appreciate his hunter look over your body—which makes your aching in your feminine parts quite unbearable—, you are disconcerted for getting his attention like this. Genuinely you didn’t expect to be noticed.

“Oh stop it you”, you slap his shoulder playfully, before being involved in his strong arms… and it’s here where your nipples go hard, much to your embarrassment.

Anakin has an indecent thought concerning you too, tempted to lift your skirt and slide his hands on your ass… wondering if you are as hot as you are presenting yourself. But when remembering how good friends you are, or even if you were not, he admonishes himself for being this naughty.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly parts the embrace, taking a look at your apartment, in complete ignorance of your state. You quickly move after wine to serve, thinking that not wearing bra was a very bad idea.

“Nice place”, he says. “I was just wondering whether you’d ever ask me for a visit since you moved.”

“How’s work going?”, you show up with glasses and hands one to him. Again your face burns lightly when his gaze lingers at your thighs. Your heart races at the silly sensation of getting his attention. “I get that saving universe must not be an easy task.”

Anakin purposely sits next to you. He smiles at the confused thoughts and how he affects you.

“You have no idea”, he chuckles before getting serious. “It’s been exhausting, truthfully. I’ve been… tossed in a whirlwind, in a hurricane, whatever you want to call it. But let us not ruin the night talking about work. Wine’s good by the way. How’s your life, Y/Nickname? Often being the listener, never the talker.”

Anakin reclines back at the couch, watching as your face is crimson pink.

“My life is hardly as interesting as yours for a start.”

“That is untrue. Come now…”

When did it become about you? You feel suddenly shy. Hardly men in general interested in what you have to say, about who you are.

But when he looks at you, Anakin isn’t seeing only the beautiful woman you are, but the sensitive, witty, kind, good hearted lady that is so passionate about what she loves doing… he cannot help but falling in love.

However, telling you how he feels… is tricky. Specially because he’s got some scars of his previous relationship.

Even so… he cannot deny the intimacy in sharing memories, the attraction there is about you two. Then it occurs him to deal with it in other ways.

“You know what”, he downs the glass. “I think we should play this game in order to get your head out of recent disappointments.”

You laugh quietly.

“Very well. What is it?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Ani…”

“What?”, he laughs. “What harm can it do?”

You take a long sip of wine. One bottle is empty and you use it to spin. The game begins.

***

“Truth or dare?”, you ask him.

Despite the glint of mischief in his eyes, Anakin surprises you by saying:

“Truth.”

“Well… is it true that you broke up with Padme because of the whole Clovis affair?”

Anakin rolls his eyes, giving you a glare.

“Really now, Y/N?”

“Yes or no, answers only”, you smirk.

“Fine.” He sighs. “Yes. Yes, this was why.”

This wipes the smirk off your face as you gently stroke his hand as you play with his fingers.

“I’m genuinely sorry, Ani.”

He runs a hand over his hair before delivering a crooked grin.

“It’s fine. Time to move on. You, now.”

“…Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

You flutter your eyelashes before gasping.

“I’m sorry, but what?”

“Come on, Y/Nickname. It’s only fair.” He gives that kind of smile he knows it melts you.

It’s when you realize you’ve been obvious about how you feel for him. Oh shit.

“Y/Nickname… It’s either that or tickling.”

You laugh quietly, hating the other option. Ignoring the heat in your face, you lean close.

“Fine, you idiot.”

Distance is shorter now as you and him sit face to face. Never before you’ve noticed how blue his eyes are, how weak your knees are when he smiles at you like that.

Fuck, fuck.

“Well?”

“Damn it, Skywalker, you know how to make me shy.”

“Then let me encourage you better.”

His fingertips rest under your chin, drawing you closer before slipping it to your hair all the whilst using another to put it behind your neck. His lips now brush against yours before you take the initiative and snake your tongue to his mouth.

You gasp when tasting his tongue dancing slowly, synced with yours, not expecting to feel so good—and it’s definitely better than you thought in your wildest dreams.

As you close your eyes, you let the moment take you. Anakin too is surprised by how good your kiss is. His mug smirk is wiped off his lips when he realizes he wants more of it.

The kiss soon deepens, igniting a spark of something new to you both. It gets heated, it gets…

“Well, there you have it”, you say, distancing yourself of him, albeit reluctantly.

Anakin is too disappointed and he poorly conceals it, but in an attempt to change this subtle awkwardness, you spin the bottle again.

“It’s on you again. Truth or dare, Anakin?”

“…Dare.”

There is a brief exchange of glances. This is getting dangerous, a deadly game you didn’t expect to play, but the temptation has been to great to ignore.

Wine takes holds of your lips and even though Anakin knows what is coming out of your tongue, he waits almost impatiently for you to say it.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Here comes a crooked grin that makes you knees go weak. Anakin smiles warmly at your request, even more than aware of what goes inside your head.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You offer him a timid smirk when he leans closer to you. He cups your face with his hands, now taking notice of the shades of y/c that paint your irises. His heart almost skips a beat at what he reads in them.

He hesitates only for a moment and before seeing protest rising to your eyes, the Jedi dives in your mouth and slides his tongue inside yours. The kiss perfectly syncs, just to confirm again how much you and him liked how it went before.

This time neither part wishes to break it. The game is postponed as the kiss grows fervent and all so suddenly he is going on top of you, sighing heavily when perceiving the warmth that comes from your body.

All decency is forgotten when you spread your legs and wrap them around his waist, not minding the skirt being lifted as you do. His hands are now going down to your back before grabbing your ass the way you want him to.

Spark is about to erupt, though, when he parts the kiss to look at you.

“Bloody hell”, he mutters under his breath, far from looking regretted to you.

Your face is red with his words, but you cannot break the gaze.

“Was it good?”

“Better than I thought”, he smiles at you. “I am enjoying this game.”

“So am I…”, you agree in between chuckles.

Carefully, he parts from the embrace, though the moment he looks at you doing the same and trying to pull yourself together, Anakin nearly regrets for going back to this game.

“You’re fucking hot”, he whistles.

“Anakin!”, you chuckle quietly, embarrassed for his blunt remark.

“I am not lying, Y/N”, he spins the bottle. “Damned be me for taking a while in messing with you.”

You laugh, but to say you don’t enjoy the attention is to indulge in lies. However, the ache in your legs only gets worse.

“So… truth or dare?”, Anakin asks you.

“Truth”, you tell him, pleased to spot a disappointment look in his face.

“Very well”, and only then a mischievous thought occurs him. “Is it true you masturbated thinking of me?”

Your eyes go wide at it.

“Anakin! You haven’t been reading my mind, have you?”

By how he raises his eyebrows, you know you gave far more than he would.

“Fuck”, you curse.

“It’s a “yes” or “no” answer, darling”, he laughs quietly, more than amused by the looks on your face.

“Yes”, you grumble. “But it wasn’t this good.”

“Mm, why not?”

“Not answering you that, Skywalker.”

Anakin chuckles. It’s time for you to spin the bottle. Now you ask him.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

You make a grimace, but what comes next surprises both of you, in all honesty. Growing bolder due to the wine you ingested, you smirk and say:

“I dare you to remove your clothes.”

Anakin raises his eyebrows.

“…my clothes?”

“Every piece of it.”

“I wasn’t expecting on that.”

But he does as commanded. However, when he does, Anakin makes sure your eyes are glued on him. And he wants to take notices of how your body reacts as he removes piece by piece.

When you rub your leg into another and how hard your nipples get… those are enough signs to make him further aroused. But he is patient. So he takes his time.

And when you see his length throbbing it… you fear you are about to blow.

“Very well. Your turn, missy”, says Anakin with a mug smirk on his face.

“…Dare.”

“I dare you to give me a hand job.”

Your eyes go wide at his suggestion and Anakin would have regretted it for being so bold had you not risen and taken his side at the couch. Your eyes go to his manhood, and as your chest goes heavier, he opts to interfere.

“You don’t have to do it if you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s not about that”, you hesitate.

“Oh”, he quickly understands what’s not being said. “None ever taught you correctly, uh? Come here and I will.”

It turns out to be more arousing than you and Anakin would judge. He whispers in your ear what he wants you to do and your hand is right over his cock, following his directions. It’s when he bites down your earlobe that makes you shiver lightly.

“Are you horny?”, he asks you, already aware of how he affects you, which in turn makes him moan.

And to hear him moan so close threatens your self control. You decide not to answer him, even when it’s clearly a positive response. It feels good to watch him like that, how your delicate hands are capable of doing up and down, playing with the tip of his manhood before caressing his balls.

Then a thought… a not so strange one, in fact, occurs you.

Anakin, a man who is hardly ever surprised by others, is surprised by the moment you slide to your knees and engulf him with your eager tongue and pink lips.

“Ah! Ah! Y/N!”, he arches his back, wishing he’d decently ask you to stop, but you are such a good girl.

You like to suck him, you know you do. To taste him, to have his precum in his mouth makes you indecently horny. You take all of it, his louder moans making you drip wet in your panties. But your mind goes blank.

Specially when you taste a different kind of drink you used to swallow. And he cums so violently after fucking your face… though you don’t mind it. You feel like a whore, but what’s worst is that you like it.

“Y/N. To the bedroom, now.”

Anakin lifts you up, holding you in your arms before carrying you to bed. Only when putting you down and kissing your lips does he say:

“I want to compensate you for being such a good girl to me.”

Saying so he removes your clothes. Denuded underneath his gaze, you lie down in bed with your legs spread.

“Touch yourself thinking of me”, he asks you, already getting hard at it. “Tell me your secretive thoughts, Y/N.”

“Anakin…”, you are on your elbows, enjoying the naughty look he gives you. “I need assistance here. Come on.”

And then you beg.

“Please.”

He bends over your side, a hand caressing your waist all the whilst his lips are over your shoulders and neck. Inhaling the scent in your skin, Anakin is completely drawn to you.

“Your wish is my command, Madame”, he whispers in your ear before his curious fingertips find way to your womanhood.

He plays with your pubic hair for a while before his index finger digs into you. When feeling how soaked you are, Anakin growls low and you shiver when feeling his erection member just behind your lower back.

“You make me so naughty”, you whimper, barely believing he’s doing what you’ve always wanted him to.

“Had you told me this earlier, I would not take such a time to get to you”, he says, already short breath cut by the sounds you make. “Fuck… Let me access your thoughts and drink into that. I need it.”

Not that he is surprised when he does, but it is somewhat more colorful when you permit him to dive in your dirtiest thoughts concerning him… or even when he accesses your sentiments.

This is not lust anymore when he turns you to him, his finger still inside you.

“Damned you are, woman”, he hisses at you before crushing your moans with a fervent kiss.

And who are you to fight his urges, which equals yours?

***

As loving as he is when making love to you, you prefer him to be on top of you. When looking at his face, his messy, shortened hair with a few curls dropping over his face… It takes all of your strength not to drown in a quick climax.

He does it so well, no lover compares to him. He thrusts in slow and deep and you feel it. You like feeling him. Oh you do.

And when he leans to you, his lips pursuing yours in an old fashioned manner you are foolishly open, making all of this more emotional than you’d have originally judged.

“Anakin!”, you whimper loudly again. “I might…”

“Yes, Princess? Come to me! Come to me all right”, he commands you to, his body linked to yours indecently so.

His hands locked to yours, your eyes close as your body arches and it feels so different… almost as if you are gravitating. There is something else compelling you to a bigger wave of pleasure that makes you so sensitive to it.

It might as well as Anakin using the Force to reach the unreachable. Who cares?

He’s yours and you are his.

When you cry out his name, it’s such a confirmation.

And Anakin smiles because of it. Because you are finally the lover his wounded heart wanted… thus it is this new beginning of yours.

#anakin skywalker smut

[emilicious0]

Oooh, I got a request!

Can I get a Lucifer X reader headcanons or fic where reader is like fascinated with his wings? Bc let's be honest, it angels were real, I definitely would be fascinated with their wings and he got three pairs of them!

lucifer x gn! reader

pt.2 !!!

after rebuilding the hotel, charlie's dad, lucifer himself, decided to stay with his daughter. done with living alone for so long, he started to create a bond with all of the residents (except alastor). with you, however, he finally found a true friend.

your friendship began when he visited the hotel before the battle, and charlie introduced you as one of the sinners looking for redemption. you were one of the first ones to ever believe in charlie's idea, and seeing how you supported her made him respect you. after the battle with the extermination army, he saw you protecting his daughter, which led to you two officially becoming friends.

of course, there is more to your friendship than just love for charlotte. you shared many similar interests. you were always interested in art and all of its aspects, which lucifer gladly discussed with you (he was amazed by different kind of art aspects that humans created). also, you happened to be a good listener, so the king of hell used you as his personal problem dump (not that you minded).

you were surprised by how well you two got along but weren't complaining about this newfound relationship whatsoever. lucifer was kind, protective, and someone to trust.

this evening was surprisingly peaceful by hell standards, and you decided to spend your time on the balcony, reading. you don't get many chances to do that peacefully in a place like this, so you were making the most of it.

while sitting there, you heard the flapping of wings, which made you tense up for a second, only to hear a familiar voice:

“well, look who it is!”

you looked up and couldn't hide the fascination forming on your face. lucifer landed on your balcony with three pairs of his beautiful wings behind his back.

when he landed, he did not hide them, noticing your shocked expression. you stared at him, which made the man blush a little. he loved it when you gave all your attention to him.

“y/n?” he asked, and you snapped out of your shocked state.

“can I touch your wings?”

you slammed your hands over your mouth, embarrassed and worried that this question was too rude.

lucifer got more flustered but smiled rather shyly and came closer to you.

with a low whisper, he said: “you can.”

you stood up and carefully put your hand on his shoulder, then on his right top wing. lucifer gasped quietly but stood still.

meanwhile, your hand moved across the wing, then lower to the second one. you carefully touched his feathers, shocked by the softness.

the man was melting at the feeling of your touch, loving how your fingers brushed his wings. he never really wanted that moment to end.

for this one moment, you both looked into each other's eyes, and sparks flew between you.

both of you wanted to say something, but words stuck in your tongue. you felt lucifer's hand on your waist and sensed your cheeks warming up.

your hands moved to his shoulders, and you both came closer to each other, somehow enchanted by one another.

“dad!” charlie's voice came from behind you, and you jumped away from each other. “there you are! I need your help! y/n, come with us too!”

“y-yeah, char, coming!” you said and followed the princess, but stopped to look at lucifer. “you coming?”

he, red in the cheeks, nodded and slowly followed both of you.

today, you two realized your feelings.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader

[swiftlyinlove]

Santa Doesn't Know You Like I Do

pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

summary: You and Spencer are best friends, but there's always been a little spark between you. When he cancels your plans for Christmas, you're determined to prove that you know him better than anyone else.

warnings: idiots in love, christmas fluff, a little angst if you squint??

word count: approximately 4.5k

a/n: Hi! It's been a long time since I wrote much of anything, but writing this for Christmas has been an absolute joy. I love Spencer so much, and this poor boy just suffers... I wanted to give him a happy ending for Christmas - or a happy beginning. I hope you like it.

The first thing you realized after the beep signaled the end of the phone call was how weird Spencer was acting lately.

To be fair, you two had an unconventional friendship. Due to the nature of his job, Spencer was often busy and therefore you couldn’t communicate as much as you'd like to, but you'd set up a base rule to make sure you never lost touch with one another: mandatory Friday night video call.

Every Friday, without fail, you would Facetime. Spencer wasn’t fond of technology, you were aware, but he’d gladly face his prejudice and lack of knowledge of anything digital if it meant talking to you. It didn't matter if he was home or if he was in another state for a case; come nine pm on a Friday, you two would be catching up about your lives.

That, of course, meant that you'd grasp at every opportunity you could to be with each other. He was in town for a case? You would meet up and have dinner if he had time; if he was doing something important and couldn’t finish it in time for dinner, he would drop by your place at the craziest hour in the morning and lie down next to you, gently shaking you awake to reveal he had gotten take out from your favorite restaurant.

Despite being awakened from your slumber, you would greet him with the brightest smile he’s ever seen - well, after letting out a little shriek of surprise, to which Spencer would respond with an “It’s me, little menace” and a chuckle that would make your heart flutter every time. 

The nickname had originated from your childhood. Spencer didn’t have many friends in middle school, and the fact that he was much smarter than kids his age didn’t help. His classmates either made fun of him or avoided him altogether, but you were… different. 

When you first moved into town, you were very nervous for your first day of school. Making friends was never easy for you, as your peers would deem you rather weird for always having your nose stuck in books. However, you quickly realized you had nothing to worry about - it took one look at little Spencer Reid, reading Crime and Punishment at the lunch table, for you to know you had found your place.

You sat next to him, ignoring the snickers from the so-called “popular kids”. He hesitantly lifted his gaze from the wrinkled pages - you reckoned he had probably read that book many times before -, expecting to see someone with a mean scowl ready to taunt him.

Instead, his wide eyes were met with your bright smile, your rosy cheeks, and your adorable ponytails, and he frowned in confusion. “Hello…?”

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” You greeted him excitedly. There was something about him that made you feel confident, so you continued. “I’m new here and I noticed you were sitting alone. And that seems like a really cool book if you don’t mind me saying, and I just thought you-”

You cut yourself off, realizing you were rambling. You could feel your cheeks warming up, and you were sure you looked as flustered as you were feeling. Before you could even dwell on how embarrassed you felt, Spencer’s lips broke into a smile. 

And that was it. From that moment on, you had been inseparable. Well, perhaps not physically; after all, he was academically way ahead of you and everyone else, and he even managed to graduate from high school at only twelve years old. 

That didn’t stop you from hanging out every moment you could, nor from exchanging letters every single day when he went to college. To this day, you still had those letters, safely tucked into a charming wooden box you kept on your bookshelf, but you’d never tell him that (although you were sure he knew, as the great profiler he was).

So, despite being separated due to your busy jobs - his more than yours - and living in different states, it wasn’t a surprise when you started arranging to spend the holidays together.

Since his mother was still institutionalized, Spencer didn't really have anyone to celebrate the holidays with and therefore didn't care much for the traditions. You, on the other hand, loved the holidays, but since your parents had passed away when you were in college, you were also alone during the season.

Thus, you cut a deal. Every year, he would use his extra vacation days to take a week off around Christmas and you would take turns visiting each other. Usually, you were both very excited about this occasion – it was one of the rare opportunities you had to be together in person, and you missed each other terribly.

This year, though... You had just called Spencer to confirm the date so you could book your flight to Quantico, and he had simply managed to say he couldn’t take time off before hanging up on you.

You were confused by this but chalked it up to it being one of those days for him. Working at the BAU, Spencer had to deal with a lot of gruesome cases often and, after a really bad one, he didn't find any energy to do much of anything.

While he'd never avoided you per se, when those days coincided with your phone calls, you would try to comfort him the best you could, and sometimes even managed to cheer him up a little. 

This time, you didn't even have the chance to, and that threw you off. Still, if Spencer was in a bad mood, maybe he just didn't feel like talking. Not even to you.

Deciding to not push it any further, it's only a few days later that you brought up your trip to Quantico, this time via text. You spent the entire day nearly jumping at your phone each time it vibrated, expecting a notification with his name on it.

It was only later that night that you'd get your answer in the form of an ‘I can't this year’. You read the text over and over again, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking, but you had hoped that, once he was in a better mood, he would be just as eager as you for your shared holiday season. 

It occurred to you that perhaps something happened, perhaps he couldn't file for a vacation because he had a big case that he couldn't step away from.

But if that were the case, he would've told you so. He would've explained, apologized even, and tried to schedule another date for your trip to make it up to you. So, you concluded, he just didn't want to see you.

That thought haunted you for the entire week.

Finally having enough of feeling blue and not getting any work done, you decided to go straight to the source in search of answers. Well, source adjacent - Spencer was still replying rather coldly to your texts, so you couldn’t ask him directly. Penelope Garcia was the next best thing.

You had met the members of the BAU after a particularly successful case in your city. Their flight would only leave in the morning and Spencer thought he could take the opportunity to take you to the cinema for a late-night movie, just like the good old days of your adolescence.

However, Penelope and Rossi had other plans. To properly celebrate their hard work that led to saving multiple women who had been kidnapped a few weeks prior, they decided to take the team out for dinner in a nice restaurant.

“And it’s mandatory. It’s not like we have anything else to do tonight, so no excuses.” She had warned in a playfully threatening tone. 

Spencer shifted in his spot while putting away his things in his satchel. After all the years he worked at the BAU, he still hadn’t told his coworkers - his found family, really - about you. It was the one thing he kept close to his chest, the one secret he wanted to keep forever.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he brushed his hair behind his ears, not daring to turn and face the team while he spoke. “I sort of already have plans.”

His voice was so quiet that the team wasn’t sure they had heard him correctly. After a moment of silence, Derek’s lips curled into his (in)famous smirk and he gently nudged Spencer’s side, making the lanky boy turn around to face his friends.

Spencer’s cheeks were flushed and he kept his eyes trained on the ground, not wanting to face the curious expressions on their faces. But when Derek nudged him again, asking him “Who’s the girl?” with such a teasing tone, he couldn’t help but look up.

“She’s just a friend.” He blurted out, eyes immediately widening upon the realization of what he admitted.

While the rest of the team just shrugged it off and dived into their conversations, Derek patted him on the back - the force of which sent Spencer stumbling a few feet forward -, and Penelope lit up like he had just told her that he won the lottery.

“You have to bring her!” Penelope begged, grabbing his arm as they walked towards the door of the local precinct they had been working on for the case. “I want to meet this mystery woman.”

Penelope didn’t say it to him then, but she was sure you weren’t ‘just a friend’. She might’ve not been a profiler, but the look in his eyes when he spoke about you and his hesitation to cancel your plans for the sake of the team made her think that perhaps you were much more special to him than he realized.

Her suspicions were, of course, confirmed when he showed up at the restaurant a few hours later with you in his arms, wearing an elegant black dress and a radiant smile on your face as you whispered something to him, immediately breaking into a fit of giggles.

Spencer tried to feign indignation at your comment, but he couldn’t help but smile as he led you to his friends, who were all watching the interaction with surprise and disbelief. Your laughter calmed when you reached the table, but the smile never fell from your face as Spencer introduced you, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That’s when Penelope knew.

You clicked rather well with his friends. They were, naturally, very curious about you, and you did your best to answer all their questions. Meanwhile, Spencer, who was sitting next to you, placed a hand on your lower back, making sure you didn’t feel overwhelmed under the attentive eyes of his friends.

Penelope and you were a match made in heaven, Spencer reckoned. You quipped back and forth the entire night, even swapping numbers by the end of it, and Spencer even joked that you had found a new favorite FBI agent as you made your way to his car.

Chuckling at his statement, you stopped in your tracks, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to place a tender kiss on his cheek. “You’ll always be my favorite. But she’s a close second.”

Spencer was sure his heart had stopped right then and there and that he had gone to heaven.

Since that night, you frequently called Penelope to talk about numerous things - from the latest TV shows you were both hooked on to recipes for dessert -, but you rarely talked about Spencer. Until today.

“Penny, I need your help.” You blurted out as soon as the blonde answered your call. 

“Woah, woah, calm down my friend,” Penelope answered, amused and slightly worried about the urgency in your tone. “What’s on your pretty little mind?”

All it took for Penelope to know something was wrong was two words. “It’s Spencer.”

“What about boy wonder?” The technical analyst questioned, trying to make sense of what you were saying.

“He’s been acting so cold lately.” You explained, sighing in exhaustion as you plopped down on your couch. “Well, you know how we always arrange to spend the holidays together?”

Penelope hummed in agreement - every year when Spencer would put in a request to take time off during the holidays, she would make sure it was at the top of Strauss’ paperwork, knowing he was doing it for you.

At her approval, you continued. “This year I was supposed to come to Quantico, but every time I try to bring it up, he shuts me down and just says that he can’t. I don’t understand why he’s acting like this and it's been driving me nuts all week.”

The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at your image on the phone. 

“Are we sure we’re talking about the same person? Because he seemed pretty excited last week. He wouldn’t shut up about how he found the perfect gift for you and how he couldn’t wait to see your face when you opened it.”

This confused you even more, and you frowned as you processed her words. “Yeah, well, this week he can barely text me back. I don’t want anything crazy, Penny, I just want to be with him for Christmas.”

“I don’t know what happened. As far as I can tell, he did put in the request for a vacation.” Penelope replied. Then, her face lit up in realization and she cursed under her breath. “Morgan.”

“Morgan? What does Derek have to do with this?” You asked, more disoriented than ever.

“Wait here,” Penelope said, quickly getting up from her chair and leaving you to stare at her empty office. She returns a few minutes later, looking pretty annoyed, to see you making a cup of coffee in your kitchen.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweet cheeks.” The blonde said apologetically, making your gaze return to your phone, forgotten on the counter as you waited for her.

You quickly picked it up, registering her distressed expression. “What happened?”

“I found out why Reid’s acting like an ass to you.” She replied, her voice softening as she saw the glimmer of worry in your eyes. “It seems like Morgan has done quite a number on him.”

“What do you mean Morgan has done a number on him? What did he do?” You questioned, growing irritated by Penelope’s ability to beat around the bush. You loved her, you really did, but you just wanted to know what happened.

“I’m not sure I should be telling you this, but since you’re so upset…” Penelope trailed off, pursing her lips. “Morgan better pay me back.”

“Penelope, just spit it out.” You interrupted, your impatience reflected in your tone.

“Fine. I told you Reid wouldn’t shut up about you, and Morgan may or may not have teased him about his feelings for you and it may or may not have caused Spencer to clam up in his shell.” Penelope rushed through her words and you blinked, unsure you had heard her correctly.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears as you asked her, “Spencer… Has feelings for me?”

Penelope looked reluctant to answer your questions, clearly not wanting to violate Spencer’s privacy. Ever since she met you, she knew you and the resident FBI genius were destined for each other, but she wanted you to discover on your terms.

“Penny, please.” You sounded out of breath, and it cleared any sign of hesitation on Penelope’s mind. 

“Baby girl, I can’t be the one to tell you that. You have to ask him.” She responded, her voice full of empathy. “But between me and you, I’m pretty sure you know what the answer is.”

Spencer was certain that he was in the 9th circle of hell. 

Ever since Morgan’s comment, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He always knew what you two had was special.  You knew how to make him laugh; Spencer didn’t consider himself to be difficult to entertain, but he could be quite oblivious to his coworkers' jokes sometimes, especially if they were about him. But you? Oh, you managed to make him laugh hysterically with a simple comment, and it endeared him. 

You had been with him through the good and the bad, after all. You were there at his graduation, celebrating his first Ph.D. - and the two that came after that, too - and you were right there by his side when he watched his mother be dragged away to a mental institution, holding his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

That was what he loved most about you. He could always count on you to be there for him. He recalled the first moment he realized you were much more than a friend to him.

It had been after the Tobias Hankel case. Spencer slipped in and out of consciousness as the doctors dragged him through the hospital, murmuring to themselves about testing the drugs in his system and checking his vitals.

His life wasn’t in danger anymore, but he was oh so tired. He had spent days upon days of captivity without a wink of sleep, locked in an empty cabin where he was tortured by two of Tobias’ personalities, and all he could think about between getting tormented and getting drugged was you.

He was sure he was going to die then, and his main concern was that he wouldn’t be able to see your pretty smile again. He would tell you this when you appeared at his bedside a few hours later, claiming that you received a call from the hospital - unsurprisingly, you were each other’s emergency contacts - and had threatened a stewardess to get a ticket to the next plane to Virginia, and you would call him ridiculous for it.

It was only when you were sitting next to him on his hospital bed, his head leaning against your chest as you combed your hands through his hair, that he allowed himself to cry, to reveal how truly scared he had been under Tobias’ hands.

You whispered sweet nothings in his ear as you softly lifted his head, making sure he was looking at you when you softly kissed his tears away. His arms had tightened around you, a silent sign of his gratitude, and he knew then, he knew, you were everything to him.

How could he have not fallen for you after all that? 

But he could never tell you. He had been rejected many times in his life, but if he was to get rejected by you? He was sure his heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

So he tried to bury his feelings deep inside him, keeping you a secret from the people who knew him best and, when the time came, introduced you to them. As a friend. Because that’s all that you were. Friends.

When Morgan teased him about his feelings for you, Spencer entered panic mode. If Morgan could see Spencer was madly in love with you, then you could see it too - you could always read him like a book, after all.

And if you hadn’t brought it up… You didn’t want to. He knew you’d never want to hurt him, so the only logical conclusion he could reach was: you don’t feel the same.

He tried his best to avoid you. Cutting you off whenever you brought up your plans for the holidays, replying to your texts with short answers, and even refraining from watching Doctor Who in his free time, because it only reminded him of how you two used to lie on your couch during summer break and watch it together. 

What he didn’t count on was opening his door in mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve and seeing you standing in front of him, coat covered in the snow that was falling outside the comfort of his building and a small smile on your face.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.” You said bashfully, not sure how he would react to your presence. 

“Merry Christmas.” He replied, his breath knocked out of his lungs at how beautiful you looked standing there. He might have fallen in love with you all over again. 

After a beat of silence, he wet his lips, looking at you with the same wide-eyed gaze he greeted you with when you were kids. “What... What are you doing here?”

Your lips curled into a sheepish smile. “What, you thought I was gonna miss Christmas?”

Seeing you in front of him, hearing your voice without the faint static of the phone for the first time in a while… it was surreal to him. He couldn’t help but cave in and wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer into a tight hug.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders just as tightly, your body finally relaxing against his. You could feel his nose nuzzled into your neck, and you smiled against his shoulder.

“I missed you.” You whispered, letting your words linger between the two of you.

“I missed you too.” He whispered back, and you knew he was sincere. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I know.” You breathed in his scent, pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder before pulling away. He reluctantly let you go, a remorseful smile on his lips.

Spencer guided you into his apartment, and you took note of how he put up your usual Christmas decorations. “You managed to set up the tree by yourself?” You teased him.

He chuckled, watching as you settled on his couch and patted the space next to you. He promptly followed your lead, sitting down beside you. “Yeah, it was a real challenge.”

Before you could even reply, Spencer reached out to grab your hand, his thumb softly caressing your knuckles to calm his racing mind.

“Look, I’m so sorry. I’ve been stuck in my head lately, and it’s not fair that I treated you like that. We’ve had this tradition forever and I feel like I disrespected it and-” Spencer rambled, and you pressed your lips against his to shut him up.

Your sudden action stunned him, and he couldn’t help but succumb to your spell. Placing his hands on both sides of your face and closing his eyes, he kissed you back as gently and tenderly as he could, feeling you melt against him.

Once you pulled away, his eyes fluttered open, looking at you with a lovestruck, surprised gaze. He seemed to be speechless, which made you giggle.

“I hope that was on your wishlist this Christmas.” You joked, leaning your forehead against his. 

Your gaze softened as you took in his expression. “Penny told me everything. In all seriousness, I understand why you did it.  I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t just tell me.”

He gulped, feeling vulnerable under your loving stare. He always got the impression that you could see right through him.

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been in love with you almost my entire life, and when I finally realized it, I was afraid that if I acted on them, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.” He murmured, his tone growing sadder.

“And when Morgan joked about my feelings for you, I just realized that maybe I hadn’t been as discreet as I thought and perhaps you already knew and didn’t talk about it so you wouldn’t hurt me.” He continued, closing his eyes again as if the mere thought was too painful to bear. 

He took a deep breath, his thumbs starting to slowly brush against your cheekbones. “I didn’t want to face you and find out if it was true, because… Because my heart couldn’t take it.”

You listened quietly to his words, his touch on your skin grounding you and sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It broke your heart to hear him speak like that, as if the mere thought of you feeling the same never crossed his mind, as if it was absurd. 

You knew he had low self-esteem, a permanent scar from all the times he was bullied throughout his life, but his self-deprecating view never ceased to shock you.

“Spencer…” You whispered his name like it was sacred, like he was something to be worshipped, and it made his heart skip a beat. “I know all your favorite songs, how you take your coffee, and your favorite books. In order. I know you. I’d be crazy not to love you.”

You could feel him exhale in relief at your quiet confession, his racing mind finding solace in your words. “Really?”

“Of course.” You replied with a chuckle, leaning forward to press a feather-light peck against his lips. “I’ve been in love with you since we were, like, sixteen. All I ever wanted was to be the one to give you everything you want.”

He smiled as you pulled away once again, thinking about how much time you two had lost while dancing around your feelings. Although, he supposed, it wasn’t lost time - you had spent those years giving each other love, even if it wasn’t necessarily romantic.

“We’re both idiots.” He replied, making you laugh once more. You stood up, grabbing both of his hands and guiding him to the kitchen. He followed you with a bright smile on his face; he would follow you anywhere, he suspected.

“I was thinking I could make those cookies you like and, afterward, we could perhaps… snuggle by the fireplace?” You suggested, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. 

He pretended to think for a moment, before he finally gave in, pressing a delicate kiss against your temple. “Anything you want, little menace.”

Spencer hummed, burying his face further into his neck. “I was thinking of reading a few books. Santa was going to keep me company.”

Later that night, when you were both snuggled up against each other in front of his fireplace while eating the gingerbread cookies you both made, you asked him curiously, “What were you planning to do for Christmas, if I hadn’t shown up?”

You laughed quietly at his admission. “Well, Santa doesn’t know you like I do.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Your genius agreed, peppering little kisses onto your skin. “You’re the best Christmas present ever, do you know that?”

“Yeah? Wait until you see what I actually bought for you.” You replied, a playful smile on your face. “Besides, a little birdie told me you got me the perfect Christmas gift.”

“I’m gonna kill Penelope.” He muttered under his breath, sending you into a fit of laughter. 

Well, maybe this Christmas time

You'll finally realize

That I could be the one

To give you everything you want

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #penelope garcia #derek morgan #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid cm #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #fluff #best friends to lovers #criminal minds oneshot #Spotify

[sky-is-the-limit]

Meddle About (Part 1)

P: Captain Price x F!Reader

Summary: You meet a handsome stranger at a pub and begin a beautiful friendship. Though you start developing feelings for the older man, he doesn't seem to reciprocate. That is, until you flirt with someone else to test the waters.

NSFW part 2 here.

WC: 2.3k words

CW: Nothing other than some angst (light), age difference and jealousy.

Notes: The age of the Reader is mentioned only because I feel uncomfortable writing about an age difference where X person is under the age of 23-25.

@glitterypirateduck

You stumbled into the pub, your heart heavy and your mind clouded with the weight of your breakup. The air was thick with the aroma of alcohol and the sound of muted conversations. You sought solace in the dimly lit corner, choosing a table far from prying eyes, hoping to drown your sorrows alone.

As you sat there, lost in your own misery, your gaze wandered aimlessly to the booth next to yours until it landed on him, the older man sitting alone, his presence almost ghostly in the shadows. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, drinking a glass of whiskey with a distant look in his eyes.

At first, you paid him no mind, too consumed by your own despair to acknowledge anyone else's existence. But then, just as the ache in your chest threatened to overwhelm you completely, a notification on your phone pushed you over the edge. It was a message from your ex, a cruel reminder to pick up your things from his apartment.

With a choked sob, you buried your face in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought. And then, as if sensing your despair, the older man's voice cut through the haze of your misery.

"Are you alright, love?" He asked, his words gentle and filled with genuine concern.

Startled, you lifted your head to look at him, your vision blurred by tears. His face came into focus, and you found yourself momentarily captivated by the sight of blue eyes, the ruggedness of his features softened by a hint of kindness. He extended a napkin towards you, a silent offering to wipe away your tears.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of whether to trust this stranger even with such an innocent gesture. But something in his demeanor, the warmth in his gaze, made you lower your defenses.

And so, with a shaky breath, you accepted, allowing the soft material to soak up whatever was left of your relationship.

As the night dragged on, the heaviness in your heart began to ease, replaced by a sense of relief as you found comfort in conversation with the stranger. He didn't speak much, but his attentive listening spoke volumes.

You found yourself pouring out your heart to him, recounting the details of your breakup, the betrayal, the lies, the countless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, wondering what you had done to deserve such treatment.

Were you ruining his night out? Was he growing tired of your rambling? Was he secretly wishing for an escape from your company?

Your overthinking vanished every time you looked into his eyes, finding nothing but genuine interest and compassion staring back at you.

The hours slipped away and the pub grew quieter, you realized that this stranger had become more than just a sympathetic ear. And though you couldn't quite put it into words, you knew that his presence had brought you a sense of peace that you hadn't felt in a long time.

As the night progressed, you learned that he was a military man, a Captain stationed at a base just twenty minutes away. His hesitance to get into the specifics of his job only added to the air of mystery surrounding him but you respected his boundaries, content to learn other parts of his personality. It wasn't like you'd understand much of the military life anyway.

In between sips of beer, you discovered common ground in unexpected places. He spoke passionately about his love for football, declaring his support to Liverpool with pride and that sparked playful banter between the two of you, given your loyalty to Manchester United. And then there was his love for 70s rock music, a good old Sunday roast and his German Shepherd named Bucky.

Everything he uttered seemed to captivate you. But it wasn't just his words that kept you staring in awe. It was the way he carried himself, the undeniable aura of strength and confidence that followed him.

His strong, masculine features were impossible to ignore. The full beard that hugged his face and trailed down to his neck, the small charming beauty mark on his nose, his ocean blue shaded eyes.. There was no force im the world that could tear your gaze away from him.

Despite being seated, he seemed to tower over most in the room, his tall frame accentuated by his broad shoulders and defined physique with thighs barely fitting under the table.

Each time your eyes met, you felt a rush of excitement, a flutter in your chest that you couldn't quite explain.

He definitely noticed, there was no doubt about it. You caught him watching you, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips but he never made a point of it. It was as if he welcomed your attention, basking in the way you were taking him in yet never crossing the line between polite conversation and flirting.

Around two after midnight, the pub began to empty out, leaving only you and the interesting stranger as the sole costumers.

Stepping outside, the chill of the rain hit you both, shimmering under the moonlight as it landed on the darkened street below and he wasted no time in offering you his coat.

You protested but he insisted, draping it over your head as you both dashed towards your car. The rain poured down relentlessly, soaking him through and yet he seemed unaffected, almost as if he enjoyed the feeling of the water against his skin or perhaps in a way to make the night last a little bit longer.

As you turned the ignition, a sudden realization struck you. In the midst of the conversation, you had forgotten the most basic of exchanges. Names.

"Hey!" You called out over the drumming rain, "I never asked for your name."

"John Price." Came his simple reply, accompanied by a a small smile.

You reciprocated with your own name, something so simple suddenly feeling intimate, important. After saying your goodnights, you closed the door and began to drive away, the rain beginning to taper off.

But then, a nagging thought tugged at your brain. His coat still laid draped over your shoulders. Without giving it a second thought, you turned the car around and rolled down the window, calling out into the night.

"Hey, John! I still have your coat!"

He turned, his silhouette illuminated by the fading streetlights, and yelled back, "Bring it back here tomorrow, same time."

With a smile tugging at your lips, you nodded in agreement. That night, as you drifted off to sleep, the thoughts of your recent breakup seemed distant and insignificant. Instead, your mind was filled with the memory of the handsome Captain and the promise of tomorrow.

/////

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, your meetings with John at the pub became a tradition. Every Wednesday and Saturday, like clockwork, you would find yourselves drawn back to that familiar corner booth, where the outside world faded away and it was just the two of you, lost in conversation.

Your advances were subtle yet unmistakable, a brush of your hand against his, a playful flirtation laced with innuendo. And though John never shut you down, his demeanor remained restrained, as if he was holding himself back from crossing an invisible boundary.

He never pushed for more, never crossed the line into something deeper, leaving you to wonder if the attraction was one sided.

It was both frustrating and endearing at first, what had started as a playful game of cat and mouse had morphed into something deeper, more profound and the anticipation of seeing him, of sharing those precious hours together, became the highlight of your week.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. It was borderline obsessive how you tended to every detail, choosing the perfect outfit and spending hours grooming yourself to ensure you looked your best for him.

While his eyes traced the curves of your body with hunger, his hands always remained glued at his sides. Always a good conversation, a walk to your car and a goodnight to leave you awake at night, going through every scenario possible.

It was maddening, the way he welcomed your touches and flirtatious banter without ever making a move of his own.

Perhaps, if he was to turn you down outright, to reject your advances and put an end to the torture, it would be easier to accept. You could move on, content in the knowledge that you had tried and failed. But John never did that.

And so, that particular night, you swore, it would be different.

////

Another Saturday night unfolded and you found yourself once again nestled in the comfort of your favorite booth at the pub, opposite of John.

Dressed in figure hugging black dress that accentuated every curve, you couldn't help but feel confident and ready for what you were about to do. The neckline dipped low, offering a glimpse of your cleavage while the bold red lipstick painted your intentions clear for all to see.

Taking a moment to gather your courage, you lifted your glass to your lips, the sweet aroma of your fruity cocktail easing your nerves. After taking a sip, with a playful smile, you turned to John, nudging the glass towards him.

"Wanna try my drink?" You asked, your voice laced with a hint of playfulness.

You knew all too well that John was a man of simple tastes, his preference for whiskey never changing. Your intentions weren't supposed to change that, anyway.

John's gaze lingered on the glass for a few seconds and returned to yours, a small smile playing at his lips.

''I don't think I'm gonna enjoy drinking that one, love.'' He replied with a chuckle as he took another sip of his usual choice.

That was your moment.

With a coy smile, you took another sip from your cocktail, savoring the fruity sweetness that danced on your tongue and then, with a boldness you hadn't known you possessed, you placed your hand on John's thigh, the touch of your fingertips freezing him into place.

"You don't have to drink it to enjoy the taste." You replied, your words dripping with innuendo whilst you took in his unusually tensed reaction.

Without waiting for John's response, you leaned in, the anticipation coursing through your veins like wildfire.

Your heart pounded loudly against your chest as you pressed your lips against his, the taste of whiskey and strawberries mingling together the more you took his bottom lip between your own. There was a hesitance in the way your mouth moved, your tongue grazing his own as you awaited for him to deepen it.

Feeling the warmth of John's palms resting on your shoulders, you couldn't help but anticipate his next move, to reciprocate the kiss and finally make you his.

But to your surprise, instead of drawing you closer, John gently pushed you back, disconnecting your lips with a tender touch that almost felt like betrayal. His eyes remained closed, his expression unreadable as if he was still lingering on the taste of your kiss, contemplating what he was about to do next.

Feeling the weight of John's eyes piercing through you, you couldn't bring yourself to meet them, the sting of embarrassment and disappointment burning hot against your cheeks.

You felt exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never felt before. As his hands left your shoulders and came to rest on the table, you could sense the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, his voice broke the silence, "Y/N, I can't." He said, his tone filled with a mixture of pity and regret.

"Even if I want-" He started to say, but then abruptly stopped, as if his own thoughts had betrayed him.

You wanted to scream, to cry out in frustration and anger, but all you could do was sit there, confused and curious to the thought of him finishing that sentence.

Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you took in a deep breath and with trembling hands, you finally raised your face to look at him.

All you managed, was a one word question coming out as a barely audible whisper, ''Why?''

His hesitation, his struggle to articulate his thoughts only grated against your nerves but you sat there patient, waiting for him to state a good enough reason that would match with his last sentence.

"You're so young and I-" John began but his words only added to your ticking bomb. His excuse felt like a slap in the face, and before he could finish, you cut him off, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"Young? Is that it?!" You exclaimed, the anger in your voice palpable. "I'm 25 for fuck's sake!"

In that moment, what he said, the implication of his excuse became painfully clear. It wasn't about age. It was about fear, about his own insecurities. But you refused to be dismissed so easily.

"Younger, then." He persisted, correcting himself, his tone tinged with frustration. "You should be out there flirting with guys your own age, not messed up middle-aged men that you meet at a shady pub."

How dare he, you thought, how dare he belittle your choices, your feelings like that?

Your eyes widened in disbelief at what he was saying, the anger bubbling up inside you threatening to boil over. How could he be so blind, so oblivious to the depth of your feelings?

"Guys my age, huh?!" You retorted sarcastically, raising the volume of your voice just enough to make him look back into your eyes.

But instead of backing down, John simply nodded to your question. And then, as if to salt to your wound, his eyes trailed around the pub, landing on two young guys ordering a drink at the bar.

"Someone like him, not me.'' His tone devoid of self-pity or insecurity.

It was as if he was protecting you, shielding you from the potential pain that could come from being with someone like him.

His words only added more fuel to your fire that was threatening to consume you whole and so you stood up from your seat, straightening your dress with a determined flick of your wrist. Every fiber of your being screamed with frustration, but you refused to let it win.

"You know what, maybe you are right." You said to John, your voice tinged with bitterness.

Trailing your gaze towards the blonde guy at the bar, who seemed more interested in his reflection on his front camera than anything else, you saw an opportunity.

With a calculated move, you turned back to John, his eyes awaiting your next move. With a forced smile, you continued, "Maybe I should take my chances with a younger guy."

Without another word, you turned on your heel, grabbing your purse and made your way towards the bar. As you approached the blonde guy, you could feel John's eyes boring into your back but you tried your hardest not to take a peak.

Instead you sat down next to the new stranger, who finally put his phone down and turned his attention towards you, giving you a warm smile before introducing himself with a simple, ''Hey.''

Glancing back at John for a brief moment, you noticed an unfamiliar look in his eyes. A mixture of possessiveness and jealousy that sent shivers down your spine.

With his jaw clenched and posture tense, John seemed poised to stand up. But you refused to let his sudden change dictate your actions and so maintaining the same fake smile as before, you turned back to the blonde guy.

"Hey, there." You replied, your tone light and casual as you greeted him back.

It was time for you to finally be the cat and it was only a matter of seconds before the mouse came running back to your claws.

#self insert with that Manchester United line sorry guys 🙏 #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x female reader #captain price smut #captain price angst #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #task force 141 #141 x reader #john price #captain john price #ocaptainchallenge

[thef1diary]

Do Not Disturb | M. Verstappen

Summary: Max hates your ex, so when the right opportunity falls right into his hands, he takes it. Even when he's fucking you in the hotel room.

Warnings: 18+, cocky Max, reader is a tease, champagne shenanigans, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradative terms (barely but just a warning in case)

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: max & f!reader

Note: another repost because why not

Max loves winning. Especially winning the first place trophy in his racing career-from karting when he was younger to the F1 races. Although, for a while now, he's been happier. Many people think it's because of his two back to back world championships. While that may be true, he has another reason.

You.

You have known Max for a long time, both growing up together because your parents were good friends. From the moment he began his racing career in the smaller karts, you've been there. From hating the sound of the karts passing by, to loving the sound of F1 cars passing by. You didn't really have a choice because Max always wanted you by his side.

The point is, you've known Max long enough to know everything about him. Even his fans know you as his number one supporter. But what no one knew, was that your friendship has changed overtime. You and Max got to experience things that one normally would in a relationship, without actually being in a relationship.

You two were friends with benefits. It began a few years ago, drunken celebrations led to lingering touches which eventually ended in crossing the line of a regular friendship. There were no regrets but you weren't romantically attracted to him and neither was he, so the decision was made to remain as just friends.

Today, Max had won another race. He stood on the top step of the podium, listening to his country's national anthem with a smile on his face. While he was glad to add another trophy to his collection, he was thinking of all the ways he would be celebrating with you later on. Preferably with you underneath him on his bed, naked.

While you saw him smile towards his team, his expression towards you was slightly different. A difference that no one else knew the meaning behind. See the thing is, you might've told him something when he embraced you after getting out of his car. "A little fact, I'm not wearing anything under this dress"

You knew that no one would hear you because they were too busy cheering for the man in front of you. Max was pulled away by others but his gaze was still on you. Now, as he was standing on the podium, he watched you with a look that only meant mischief.

After the podium celebrations ended, Max was taken away for some post-race interviews where the same questions is asked in different ways.

Knowing that it'll take him a while, you returned to your hotel room. Usually you would stay and converse with some other drivers while he was busy, but today was a different story.

The comment you made wasn't a lie, you truly weren't wearing any undergarments under your dress. It was definitely risky, but you knew that it would spark a reaction out of Max. And you were glad that it did.

You debated whether or not you should send Max a text, something for his eyes only, but decided otherwise because you didn't want anyone else to see. Plus, he should be waiting for his reward. Perhaps another time.

After freshening up, you sat on the couch in the main room, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, waiting for Max to arrive. However, your eyes widened in surprise when you saw a notification from your ex.

It was a text asking if you could meet him. You were debating on either being nice and meeting him once more for closure, or if you should ignore him. The thing was, you didn't like ending on rough terms. You would hate to be in his spot right now, but considering the things your ex has done, you didn't know what to do.

Before you could reply, the door to your hotel room opened and Max walked in. He was holding his trophy in one hand, and the champagne bottle that he got on the podium in the other hand.

Smiling, you got up and embraced him, "congratulations, champion"

"Don't act like you don't know what you did." He retorted, not hugging you back. "Oh I know exactly what I did." You stepped away from him and your hands travelled down his chest, teasing the edge of the hem of his shirt.

"Got me so hard on the fucking podium. Who knows what people will think?" He let your hands roam around his body, close to where he needs it the most.

"Who cares what they think? You looked so hot covered in champagne"

"Yeah? Let me return the favour" Max tilted his head towards the champagne bottle in his hand.

He placed his trophy on the table to free his hand that was itching to touch you. Wrapping that free hand around your waist, he pulled you against him. Then, tilting your head back, he instructed "open"

You obliged, opening your mouth and waiting for the cool champagne to fill your mouth. He didn't stop even after your mouth was full, letting the excess drip down your chin.

"Swallow" he said, watching closely as you listened. Then, he kissed you, savouring the familiar taste of victory that he worked hard for.

Your hands were still roaming around his body, lifting up his shirt by the hem. Parting away just for a moment to remove his shirt, then his lips were back on yours.

His lips travelled lower to your neck, lapping up the champagne that dripped earlier. His two favourite things combined, your taste mixed with the champagne. His mind was buzzing with all the things he wanted to do to you.

Pouring some more champagne on your throat, his tongue darted out to drink it. "Max" you groaned, liking the sensations but also wanting more.

"Gonna cover you in champagne, baby" he whispered as he continued his ministrations. You made a sound, agreeing to his idea. "Make you all sticky with alcohol then with my cum" he continued, and you really liked that suggestion, "fuck yes please"

"Yeah, you want that?" He asked, bringing his face back up and placing a kiss to your lips. You nodded, "yes please, Max" you replied, breathlessly.

Bringing his beloved champagne bottle up again, he smirked as he slowly poured it down the front of your dress. He watched as the cloth stuck to your body, and he also noticed how your nipples hardened underneath. It was due to the mix of pleasure radiating through your body along with the cold champagne.

"You really aren't wearing anything underneath huh?" He believed you when you said it, but seeing it was another thing. "Why bother when I know you are going to remove it after you win" you found your words and explained your reasoning behind the lack of clothes.

"Fuck baby, you knew I was going to win today?" Max loved how much you believed in him. "Not a single doubt otherwise." This time you claimed his lips with yours.

You supported him like no other. And he was so grateful for that; for you.

Pressing up against his chest, he could feel how soaked your dress was and decided to remove it. Blindly finding the zipper on the back, he tugged it down.

Before he could explore your body using his hands, you pressed one more kiss on his lips before sitting down on your knees. Both of you were now quite impatient, and it was evident in your actions.

Quickly removing his belt and tugging the last layer of clothes down to his knees, you paused for a moment. You placed your hands on his thighs and made eye contact with him, noting how he was already looking down at you. "Want a reward for winning?" You asked rhetorically.

Max nodded, "yes, give me your filthy mouth that loves my cock"

You wrapped your lips around his tip, not taking him any further. You can tell that Max is restraining himself from thrusting in your mouth, and for a brief moment you go deeper but then remove your mouth. "You want my mouth?" You asked, teasingly.

"Fuck yes. I want you" he replies, groaning. You almost break out in a smile but contain yourself, "ask nicely."

Max's glare tells you that if it were up to him, you'd be on all fours with your face pressed in the mattress. But, he also knows that even though you're the one that's on your knees, you have all the power right now.

"Please, I need you so bad. Make me feel good please?" He gave in, listening to you. And man, he definitely felt like a winner when you took almost all of him in one movement.

His hand was resting on your head, tempted to force you to take more. You loved the sounds he was making above you when you would brush against a good spot. You noticed every little movement of his; how his breath would hitch when you moaned, how his abs would tense as if he's trying to hold himself back, and the way he would wrap your hair around his fingers tightly.

Right now, all your focus was on pleasuring Max. After all, he is the winner. And you'd be down on your knees to do this every time he wins, because you love it as much as he does.

Sucking greedily on his cock along with his dirty words made a shiver run down your spine. You two were in for a long night, willing to spend a couple hours in each other's presence.

Max was looking at the way his cock made a bulge in your mouth as you tried taking all of him. You knew you couldn't, but you tested the limits. But, his eyes darted around until he could find your phone since he heard it ringing. It was on the couch that you were sitting on earlier, and the screen was facing up which meant he could see the caller id.

He wanted to make a comment on it especially after knowing that it was your ex calling, but you didn't give him a chance to do so. To bring his focus back to you, you put your hand on top on his that was resting on your head, and urged him to force you deeper.

You both simultaneously let out sounds which drowned out the sound of the incessant ringing, making Max forget about it all.

You knew he was close so you pulled off after deeply sucking him one last time, then replaced your mouth with your hand. "Gonna cover me in your cum?" You asked, looking at him as he figured why you pulled away.

The height of his pleasure almost made him close his eyes but he chose to force them open so he could see how his cum coated your chest.

Once you knew he finished, you removed your hand from him and dragged it through the cum on your chest, coating your finger. Then, knowing that he was watching every move, you cleaned off your finger using your tongue.

"You look so pretty baby" he commented as he helped you stand up.

The thing about Max, is that he would be ready for another round in no time. His stamina and refractory period was unbeatable. "You weren't really nice to me so I don't know if I should fuck you." He told you, holding back a smirk when you pouted. "I know you want to, baby. My pussy's so wet because of you."

"Is it now? Waiting for me to fuck you dumb? That's what you want right?" Max asked as his hand travelled down your body, just barely touching you like you wanted him to.

"Yes, fuck me dumb" you pleaded and he positioned you on the couch to lay on your back. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer.

There was barely any resistance when he slid in you due to your wetness that had dropped down to your thighs. "So perfect for me" Max groaned as he felt you clenching around him, causing his hips to stutter since he already orgasmed once.

Max's hands were on your thighs but he moved one to drag up towards the pool of his cum still resting on your body. He would definitely clean you up later, but right now, seeing you like this did something to him. And he liked it.

His two coated fingers tapped your lips and you opened your mouth, taking them in. Once you sucked them clean, he removed his fingers which was now coated with your saliva, and teased your clit.

You arched your back, feeling every single thrust deep, especially after he easily found the perfect spot and kept a relentless pace. Your hands were balling up in fists, tightly gripping on the sheets.

You were so caught up in your pleasure that you didn't hear your phone ringing again, until Max picked it up. "She's too busy being fucked by me" is what you first heard him say to the person on the other side. It didn't take a genius to figure out who it was.

For some reason, that edged you even closer to your release. "Here, listen to her because you'll never get the chance again." Max told your ex, and held the phone closer to you so the man on the other end could hear your moans only meant for Max.

At the same time, his thrusts became stronger and faster. With that plus his fingers circling your clit caused you to moan Max's name out loud as you came undone.

Your ex heard it all. Max slowed his thrusts but didn't completely stop to prolong your orgasm, and held the phone to his ear again. "Don't you dare think about calling her again." He instructed before hanging up and tossing the phone to the side.

You were all fucked out, just like he wanted, looking up at him with a small smile. Seeing Max's smug expression, you forgot about any embarrassment regarding the fact that your ex heard you moan Max's name.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1blr #formula 1 #thef1diary fic

[eratosmusings]

Stolen Destiny (I)

Feyd Rautha x fem!reader

summary: Your father had been promised an heir. But the choices made by another stole that fate from you. Now it's your turn to take theirs.

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, smut in future chapters, blood, misogyny, dark themes, canon typical violence

word count: 1.2k

dividers / masterlist

“Again,” the swordmaster calls out. 

Gritting your teeth, you comply and fall back in position with the others. All this show for what?

With a nod, a troubadour began to pluck at the strings of her Baliset again. Your feet move in the familiar pattern, hilts of the swords bouncing against your hips. This is a waste of time.

Air stills as the rest of the women swirl away from you when another Baliset, one played with a bow sliding against its strings, joins the melody. The blades gnash against their sheaths in protest as you pull them free. They sing in the air, spinning easily between your fingers. Faster and faster they spin to match the skirts of the others now twirling in a circle around you until the music slows.

Once, twice you clink the blades’ together before you stab one into the plush stool in the center. Soft, slow pattering of the drums begins as you turn your back to it. The sword that remains drags its tip against the stone floor. The women bend a knee where they twirled. Sparks follow when you twist quickly.

This is the silliest part. You face a non existent opponent. Bringing your sword forward you drop into a defensive stance. The music rises and now you fight. Thrust, retreat, parrie, circle, advance, lunge, parrie, retreat, parrie, parrie. On and on it goes until you drop the sword. Your arm extends to the partner who does not exist and spin into nothing as the music reaches a crescendo. Chest heaving, you stay there and stare into the abyss until the music and the last of your dignity finally dies.

One of the girls is quick to retrieve and return the swords to you. In contrast, you’re slow to sheath them. You’re not eager to hear the word you know waits on his tongue. But you can only stall for so long.

You turn and face him. His voice cuts sharply across the silent hall. “Again.”

“You look ridiculous,” your father says under his breath so only you can hear. 

A gown, styled after your mother’s House, hung loosely on your frame, hiding any hint of the woman’s body beneath it. You feel ridiculous in it, but had thought it better than the other options. You should have known there was nothing you could have worn that would please him.

“My apologies, father.”

He scoffs. Nothing you do will ever please him.

It’s why you still cannot understand why this celebration is being held. He saw no honor in you being born, why would he see it in you coming of age? And to invite the likes of the Atreides? Was this all some masochistic need to see the son he should have had?

He says outloud, “Don’t embarrass me.” In your head you hear the word he leaves unspoken. ‘Again.’

The Major Houses arrive hours apart, the lucky few Minor Houses invited padding the time between. First is the Princess Irulan. Beautiful, graceful, kind. She compliments you, embracing you as if you’d been friends for life. And it feels as such. A connection left despite the broken destiny. There would be no marriage, but your father whispers that a friendship could offer nearly as much.

The Atreides come next. The Duke is handsome. His concubine, Lady Jessica, hides behind a veil. A Bene Gesserit indeed. Their son, Paul, is charismatic and not as handsome as his father, but more beautiful. He places a kiss on your hand, complimenting your dress and, as he calls them, your lovely eyes. They fall flat on you, but he seems to preen at your own compliment of his hair with a boyish grin painting his face.

Your father’s mood shifts when they and their people are led away to the castle. “Well done. Who knew you could charm so well.” The praise, as backhanded as it is, prickles your skin. “Let’s hope can you keep it up.”

At last, as the sun sets, the Harkonnens arrive. 

Pale and hairless, they're intimidating in their black attire. The Baron did not come, instead having his nephews take his place. The eldest, Count Glossu Rabban, is a giant of a man. From the stories you’ve heard, he's a sadist but an idiot. In his shadow lies the true danger. 

Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. He’s deceptively slight next to his brother. But to be the chosen heir for a House like the Harkonnens there must be a brutal intelligence. Like Paul he takes your offered hand and presses his lips against it. They’re cold, chapped and rough. Unlike Paul he offers a grin that had no boyishness left. Blackened teeth bared, he tugs your arm harshly. You stumble forward into him. The hand he doesn’t hold presses against his chest to catch yourself, the one he does hold twisting out of his grip.

Warm metal presses against your throat. 

Something akin to amusement dances in his eyes as they rove over your. It’s the only sign that he probably doesn’t want to kill you. There’s a measured pause of his gaze, first on the blade then sinking lower, before it flits back to your own. His voice is raspy as he speaks, “It is a pleasure to be here for your coming of age, my lady.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. The blade retreats. His eyes don’t leave yours as he releases you, flips it, and offers you the hilt. “A gift.”

“Thank you,” you say, hoping your voice holds firm, and reach for the dagger. 

A hand flashes from behind you with a plea of, “Allow me, my lady,” from a guard. 

Feyd, tisked, pulling it out of reach. “It is not a gift for you.”

You’re unceremoniously knocked aside when the guard steps between you. “She will be given it after an inspection.”

“An inspection is unnecessary,” you hiss, face warming. It was embarrassing enough he’d managed to catch you and your court so off guard. But to openly suspect him of intending harm, after such a brazen display of weakness, would cement the failure of any good relations between your houses. Your father would never forgive you.

“He poisons his blades,” the guard insists, not quietly enough.

Feyd-Rautha’s laugh is harsh. He turns to the Harkonnens behind him, lifts his arms, and bellows, “He worries I poison the blade!” It humors them. Rabben guffaws as if he’s never heard a funnier joke. When he faces you again his black grin is even wider. He stares down the guard as he slices the blade across his open palm. Blood soils the blade and drips on the stone beneath him. His eyes shift to you again. His tongue juts out. In a grotesque exhibition he licks it. “Death does not wait for you in my hands today.”

“I never suspected it did, Na-Baron,” you agree, stepping around the guard. He moves to stop you, but a harsh glare has him backing down. There’s still a chance to save this. Appease the Harkonnens and quell your father’s resentment you can feel rolling off him in waves behind you. Feyd offers the hilt again and you take it. The blade slices across your own palm without hesitation, your blood joining his on the stone. You extend your hand to him again.

a/n: my first fic! any thoughts would be appreciated 🥰

be my muse

next chapter

#feyd x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x you #feyd smut #dune part two #feyd rautha x you #stolen destiny

[empress-simps]

for remus, maybe a fic where he has a crush on fem!slytherin reader, and maybe the rest of the gang disapproves (at least initially) because of the silly house rivalry between gryffindor and slytherin? hopefully they’ll warm up to her because she’s actually really sweet and likes remus back, and they see how good for him she is :)

Hi darlingg! Thank you for this request, this is so adorable, and it was so fun to write :) I somehow made it a bit angsty...sorry about that I got carried away. Hope you enjoy! Pictures are from pinterest, credits to the owner!

Beyond The Surface

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Slytherin! Reader CW: Sirius being dramatic, Remus getting angry, and Language

He never really planned to fall in love. Remus thinks it would be better if he just lives his life in solitude; away from the confusing and complicated world of romantic relationships.

He doesn’t think anyone should bear the responsibility of having a werewolf boyfriend. Remus wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he even touched a single hair on your body during that time, he desperately tries to convince himself that his friends and their future children will be enough to warm his heart who secretly yearns to have his own family.

‘It’s for the best, they wouldn’t suffer because of me.’ Remus thought, being the selfless person he was. Although, his plans that he so desperately tried to put up all came crumbling down when you came into the picture.

He didn’t think of it much at first. Remus thought it was just a simple crush that would go away in about three days or so. He was completely wrong.

“Remus Lupin, right? I’m Y/n Rosier, we’re assigned partners in potions.”

You sat beside him, beaming a smile that Remus was certain you were a gift for him from the Gods above. Merlin- you were simply breath taking. That was the first time he felt butterflies on his stomach, feeling his cheeks heat up as you offered a handshake.

“N-nice to meet you, Rosier.” He took your soft hands into his rough, and scarred ones. Shaking it as he desperately tries to ignore the sparks that seemed to go off inside him. Your face grimaced as your last name rolled off his tongue.

“Y/n is fine.” Remus nods, noticing your reaction. He was wondering how someone like you managed to survive other annoying Slytherins as your housemates.

“Alright then, Y/n. Call me Remus, yeah?”

That marks the beginning of an unlikely friendship of a Gryffindor half-blood with a Slytherin pure blood.

“Shall we begin?”

“Alright, but you lead. My skills are no good in potion making.” He jokes, making a small chuckle escape your throat. “I am quite aware.” She teases.

Being partnered with him for a Potions project meant that you would often meet up in the library, spending long hours sitting beside each other in silence, flipping page after page as Remus occasionally puts back books but returning with 5 more.

“Remmy, look here.” You pointed, not noticing how Remus blushed at his newfound nickname as he leaned to your seat, placing one arm on the back of your chair, his tall frame nearly engulfing you as he reads the contents of the page you found interesting.

He suddenly pales, his eyes transfixed on the title of the page. “Wolfsbane potion…” He whispers, eyes scanning the page quickly before looking at you. You hummed, flipping into another page to see how to make the said potion.

“Right, I figured we should make this for our project. What do you think? I think Polyjuice potion is a tad bit boring, hm?” She mused, seeking his opinion on the matter.

Remus parted his mouth to speak, yet the words seem to vanish at the back of his throat. You shot him a worried look, “Do you not like it? You could say so, don’t pretend nothing is wrong, Remmy.”

He blinks, trying to compose himself. “Ah, no-nothing’s wrong. It’s just that…”

You raised your eyebrows curiously, urging him to continue. “What? You know someone who’s a werewolf?” She jokes, trying to lighten the atmosphere as she lightly elbows him.

“I do.” He chokes out, the confession was unexpected, even to him. Remus doesn’t even know why on Earth he’s about to tell you one of his darkest and deepest secrets. It was probably because of your warm and inviting aura. It’s like you wouldn’t judge anyone based on first impressions, appearance, and what you’ve heard about them until you can see for yourself.

Remus felt like he could trust you, and his instincts are almost never wrong.

“Well, maybe the potion we’ll brew can help them?” You offered a smile.

“It certainly would be of help to me.”

You stilled; your hand that was about to get your quill hovered as you looked at him in shock.

“You’re a werewolf?” You whispered quietly; eyes that were surprised stared into his nervous, amber ones. Remus could only nod, an inkling doubt and regret slowly crept up to him. Did he make the right decision? Was he wrong this time? Would you hold it against him?

Your face turned serious, clasping his hand on the table with yours, you looked at him in the eye. “Your secret is safe with me; I would never tell it to anyone. If it helps, I will even make an unbreakable vow, Remus.”

He widened his eyes, “N-no! It’s alright, I trust you, Y/n.” You visibly relaxed, smiling lightly, squeezing his hand, a soft look was sent his way.

“Thank you for trusting me, Remus. If you’d like, I’ll brew you a supply of wolfsbane from time to time.”

If Remus wasn’t in love before that, he certainly is now.

“Out of all the people you could’ve chose to like it was a Rosier?!” Sirius screeched, a horrified look on his face as he grabbed Remus’s shoulder and looked at him straight in the eyes. The said boy frowned “What about it?”

Sirius blanched, “Are you daft, Moons?” He threw his hands up in the air, looking at the rest of the marauders and Lily, wanting them to side with him. Lily’s lips pressed into a thin line; she does not quite agree with Sirius but there’s still a possibility. It doesn’t help the fact that you are a Slytherin; the house that reeks of cunning pure-blooded wizards.

Peter looked anywhere to just not meet the eyes of Remus, clearly uncomfortable. While James frowned, a troubled look on his face as he clasped Lily’s hand. “The Rosier family… they’re not exactly known for their…,” he started, but Sirius cut him off.

“Rosiers are evil! Slytherins! Pureblood Supremacists! Death Eaters!”

Remus frowns, reading the room and the reactions of his friends. The message was clear without words: none of them supported Remus’s interest in a Slytherin, a Rosier no less.

“Give her a chance, she’s different.” Remus tried to make his friends listen to him. Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes. James sighed, looking at Remus. “Moony, it’s just… We never thought you would fancy a Slytherin.” Remus pursed his lips, “Yeah, I never thought you and Lily would end up together but here we are.” James grimaced at his words.

“There’s tons of girls who fancy you, Moony.” Peter tells him. Remus frowned, feeling annoyance stir inside him. “They’re not her, Wormtail. All I’m saying is that Lily and you blokes should give her a chance before you make assumptions.” He spat, glaring at Sirius before leaving the room.

“Rem? Mon amour, what’s wrong?” She frowns, placing her book down as Remus entered the library, heading straight to her usual place but the window. Remus sighs, shaking his head. He couldn’t possibly tell you what happened, how Sirius thought you were just those pesky Slytherins they pull pranks on.

“They do not like me.” She stated, looking down with a frown as she fiddled with her thumbs.

“Honey, it’s not your fault.”

“I know, amour.”

Remus felt his lips press into a thin line, gently taking your hands in his, trying to stop your nervous habit. “They’re still wrapping their heads around it. They’ll come around, don’t worry about it love.” You sighed shakily, “I hope so.”

Remus traced shapes across the back of her hand, “Anything interesting happened today?”

“Evan and I got into a fight; said I was a blood traitor…” You trailed off, noticing how Remus’s jaw tightened and his stare hardened. “But it was alright, we made up. He just told me to be careful.” To say Remus was surprised was an understatement. “He couldn’t be angry at his twin sister for a long time.” She smiles.

“Black! What the fuck did you do?!” Remus roars, grabbing a fistful of the said boy’s shirt, pushing him against the wall as James tried to pull him off, “Come on, Moons-“

“Don’t bloody touch me, James!” He bellows, pushing off the Potter boy who stumbled away, shock evident in his features. Peter quickly got up from his bed, “Moony, why are you so angry? What did he do?” He drops shoves Sirius off as he stared at his friends.

“It was you guys who pulled a prank on her right? “Remus’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, pointedly looking at Sirius. “Well congratulations, she’s being treated by Madame Pomfrey right now.”

Sirius felt shame and guilt ate him up. The prank was never supposed to go that far.

“Ever wondered why I was suddenly so calm during the full moon? It’s all thanks to her. She makes me batches of wolfsbane potion every month, without fail.”

James choked, “You told her?”

“I did”

“What if she tells everyone?” Peter frowns, concerned for Remus.

“If she wanted to, then the whole school would’ve already known, she even suggested an unbreakable vow.” Remus uttered out, sitting at his bed, looking away from them “Some kind of friends you guys are. I care about her, and if you hurt her, you hurt me too.”

Sirius cautiously approached him, “Moons, I’m sorry.” He began. James placed a hand on his shoulder, “I know, we’re knobheads. Sorry, Moony.” Peter nods, “We messed up, it won’t happen again.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to her.”

“We will, Moony.”

An hour has passed after you got treated by Madame Pomfrey, you wanted to leave as you already felt alright but she insisted you stay for an hour or two just so she could monitor you. Having no choice but to oblige.

“Love?” Your ears perked up, the sound of Remus’ voice calling out to you. You turned and smiled at his direction, although suddenly dropping it as you saw the rest of the Marauders and Lily following him.

Trying to alleviate the awkward atmosphere, Sirius pulls out a bouquet of flowers. “Remus told us you like Tulips…” You were about to take it but stopped, James seemed to notice this. “It’s not jinxed, or anything like that.” You bit your lip, silently looking at Remus as if asking was it safe, he nods. “I was there when they picked it out love.” You finally took the bouquet, nodding gratefully. “Thank you.”

“We wanted to say we were sorry.” James started; Lily nodded. “It was quite shameful that we made such accusations and judged you before even getting to know you.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n. We…we were just looking out for Moony.” Sirius sighed; shame visible in his features.

“I understand, I probably would have done the same. I’d also look out for the people I care about.” You softly replied. “It’s okay, I forgive all of you.” You looked at them.

James stepped forward, “We hope you can give us a chance to make it up to you.” Sirius cleared his throat, “And maybe, if you’re up for it, join us for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?” His attempt at a smile was hopeful.

Your lips curved into a genuine smile, your body slowly becoming relaxed. “I’d like that,”

#remus x reader #remus fluff #moony x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus x y/n #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #remus lupin #james and lily #james potter #sirius black #marauders era #harry potter #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!journalist reader

summary: a lil joke thing i wanted to write because homeboy is bringing home the big bucks 🤭

warnings: just read 🫵🏽 this is a crack fic lol

saint’s team radio 🎀: don’t take this all too seriously 😭 hope y’all enjoy plus who know i’ll actually make it into a thing 🧍🏽‍♀️

tags: @alika-4466 @purplelewlew @exotic-iris13 @arshiyuh @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @youre-sooooo-funny @louvrepool @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @httpsserene @motheroffae

-

Being an independent journalist in this sport wasn’t easy at all but only within the parameters of any paddock around the world as most journalists rarely agreed with you, being neutral about anything in f1 wasn’t your thing.

Speaking your mind as the race went on was what set you apart from the rest, along with your humour and your honesty towards drivers and team principals. Not to mention you were extremely biased, keeping your liking to three to five drivers but only one occupied your mind every time you think about him.

I think you know who I’m talking about.

Your support for Lewis goes back to 2015, discovering the sport and immediately wanting to put your journalism skills to the test, aiming for the f1 paddock to at least catch a glimpse of the most talked about driver. Quickly building up a blog and several other social media accounts, you got to telling the world your thoughts and feelings for every race and your supporters rooted for you to achieve your goal.

Having the opportunity to attend thee race in 2020 as a guest of F1, you arrived at the Turkish Grand Prix with your head held high and a dress so gorgeous that it sparked rumours between you and the driver you were writing about. Not to mention the hug he gave you when you first met in the Mercedes garage, praising and thanking you for the support over the years. He’s been watching you and your work. That made your heart so warm.

Then he won his 7th world championship, breaking all records and that day, he deemed you his lucky charm.

And since then, it’s been a work wife-work husband friendship between you two. Fans constantly shipping you too, the clips of your shared interviews at the media pen of the intense eye contact and even off-track sightings once in a while such as a quick lunch.

yourusername • 13 mins ago

The atmosphere in Australia was unlike anything you’ve ever seen in your career, the paddock was practically painted red, Ferrari red to be specific. Everyone eager for Lewis to arrive as his first season as a driver for the legendary team.

Deciding to subtly support him and his new team, you rocked maroon everything, not yet ready to fully embrace the extreme bright red. It just might be your new favourite colour, from your hair right down to the tips of your high heeled boots.

Whilst setting your camera equipment up (gracefully given to you by Ferrari themselves), you couldn’t help but reminisce back to the year before of when he told you he was leaving Mercedes, a single facetime call in the nighttime.

“You made me pause the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, this better be good.” You said, placing the popcorn bowl down on your coffee table. Giving him squinted eyes, he just smiled at you.

“Are you alone right now?” He asked and that set aback for a bit. “You tryna do something funny, Lewis? Because you’re in Monaco right now and I’m at my house.” You raised your eyebrow at him, hiding how nervous you were to even suggest that to him but thankfully, he took it as a joke.

“No no, I’ve got some big news and I wanted to tell you before it gets out.” He replied, seeing how you stood up and placed your phone on your kitchen counter to prepare for this. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s up?” You clasped your hands together, not prepared to hear what came out of his mouth next.

“I’m moving to Ferrari next year.”

“You’re lying.” And all he did was smile as he saw your face drop at this news. He shook his head and that woke you to run around your apartment screaming. Running back to your phone, he was still there but just laughing his lungs out.

“Give me the details right now or else I’ll fly there. I’m not playing, Lew.”

A small smile was plastered on your face as you racked through the memories of that night and till that day, you still couldn’t believe it even though it was right in front of you. The media pen became louder and louder as you continued to mic yourself up along with connecting the mic to the camera and you immediately knew who caused the stir.

He already had such an aura surrounding him so much so that you could feel him whenever he entered the room. You were aware he arrived earlier and most likely changed but seeing the official team shirt on him was odd but fitting.

Lewis had a simple routine whenever he got to the media pen: everyone else then you because his time with you could be lengthened and he was so damn grateful that it was a Thursday because it meant even more time just walking around the paddock pretending it’s an interview when really, you guys were just spending time together.

After all the drivers had their interviews with you, laughing as they walked away because of some joke you told or happy that you asked different questions than everyone else. The man of the hour strolled over to your section with a look in his eye that gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Do not give me that look, Lewis. It’s weird seeing you in that shirt.” You said as he leaned against the barricade, maintaining eye contact with you. “I’m just taking in the red on you, it’s your colour.” He smirked at the reaction from you, the slight shock from the tone of his voice.

There was always a tad bit of tension between the two of you, feeling that twinge of a spark whenever he merely touched you. As you worked with over the years, you wanted your crush on him to diminish because that would just be unprofessional but he did not seem to care. At all. Often being spotted at various places together that he claimed were just two friends hanging out but just one look from him could have you in the clouds of days.

“Uh..huh. Wanna get these questions done or you wanna keep staring?” You asked with sass, watching him tilt his head a little and maintaining eye contact. “We can go right ahead, Y/n.” Lewis replied and you knew this was going to be a long interview.

Several questions later with a bunch of tension that you were sure the viewers would catch, you discreetly turned the camera to ask one of your infamous unserious questions that you did with every driver and you were sure this one were to get a laugh out of Lewis.

Holding the little card in front of you, you grinned with your left eye closing slightly more than the other. “It’s one of my favourite parts of any interview, unserious question time.” You said. “How unserious are we speaking here?” He asked with the slightest grin on his face just admiring you do your job.

“Only if you promise to answer it.” You said, holding out your manicured pinkie finger and Lewis hooked his with yours, solidifying the promise. “Okay okay, the whole world was shocked on how much Ferrari wanted you so much so that they literally doubled your salary.” You started.

“It’s now sitting at a hundred million a year. My question to you is who you gonna share it with and will it be me?”

“If you’re being serious, then it can be you.” He smiled and in that moment, your stomach dropped.

“Carl Davidson, I’m not playing around. Are you being for real?” You asked, lowering your voice so that no one could hear a thing.

He leaned in a bit more to whisper his next answer. “As real as you meeting me later on for dinner.” Lewis faced you then winked, walking away with your face still in shock. After standing there for what felt like forever, you felt your phone vibrate with a text from the man himself.

lew <3

you look gorgeous in red btw

-

yourusername

liked by theestallion, f1wags and 43,747 others

yourusername “anything you want, princess” — lewis hamilton.

view comments

user give me your game card

user you’re eating the red wig DOWN

spinzbeatsinc oh for him to buy me a g wagon

yourusername you already have one???

user you gold digging bitch

user no ways 😭

user not you using him for his money

user think about it, what is he gonna do with so much??

fan she got the chance and she took it, i gotta respect it

user i hope this is a hard launch because i’ve been shipping these two for YEARS

user me too!!

lewishamilton just say the word 🫡

yourusername 🤭🤭🤭🤭

saint’s team radio (again) 🎀: hope you all enjoyed! again, this is like a crack fic lol. there’s so many stories that’ll be released soon i’m excited ��� okay bye!

#saint writes #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #f1 x black!reader #f1 imagines #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #SoundCloud

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul _ Part 4 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request (1) + (2)

@hoshinosama Maybe p4 is about Alastor learning about reader past? 🥺

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 (here) — Part 5 *I suggest you read Part 2.5 if you didn't, it'll help

When you found out all those years ago, back when you first manifested in Hell that you were still somehow alive, you seeked out so many ways to off yourself again. You didn’t kill yourself to live in torture again. Especially when there was no right entertainment for you

Unforturnately, you did find out that you missed the annual exterminations that was a one way ticket to death. You missed it! Then you went to the next big thing. You seeked out the King of Hell, your next way to true death

You caught Lucifer at an awkward timing. His daughter that he so loved was doing something impossible, as he claims and his wife was more and more distant for some reason he can’t point. Well, you’re not interested in any way so you kindly asked if he could kill you

That dead look in your eyes shocked Lucifer really. You were like a soulless being, a puppet? A doll? There was no spark in you, no wants apart from your wish to death. Lucifer took pity on you and took you in, offering you a job of being an information collector of sorts. His little informant

You only agreed because he said you had powers in Hell and tempted you to delay your death till the next extermination to see if you still want the same. A little below a year to see if you liked your demon life or self. You discovered quite the unique power you have and honed it to perfection, testing it and perfecting it

All the while, you made friends with Lucifer who was a bit too obsessed with making ducks. He gave you your own collection of ducks. During which you created a case just to put those ducks on display, uplifting his spirits

Now Lucifer notices that you never smiled nor show prolonged excitement for anything. You were fascinated with your powers and abilities, but you were hardly happy. So he tried something. He brought you back to Earth for a visit and for you to get whatever you wished 

Never has he seen you that happy and grateful like you were another person. You dragged him all over the place, actually requesting things and wanting stuff done. Lucifer happily fulfilled it all. It was the least he could do when you gave him company when his family was distant from him

Even better was when you gave up on your (second) death and was more energetic. To seems to Lucifer that bringing you to Earth was the right call, so he gave you exclusive access to the living world on the condition that you would never cause harm to the mortals and bring other demons along with you. Namely abuse it, you easily agreed with no issue

Throughout your years of serving Lucifer, you never actually caught wind of Charlie because you didn’t want Lucifer getting depressed even more due to the distance and you never actively searched for Lilith because Lucifer’s response to your offer nearly made your sda self cry for him

You kept a strict business relationship with Lucifer to ensure that all the gathered information was to his benefit and liking, you later allowed a friendship with him because he helped you see light in this hellhole. If you had taken your life, you wouldn’t be enjoying your afterlife or meet him

“Are you really seriously happy with that thing?” Lucifer asked as his face twisted to one of disgust and maybe anger when his eyes darted over to the demon humming a joyful tune while baking with a ridiculous apron You hummed, looking up from your tablet and pausing your search, “If you’re referring to Alastor, then yes, I am.” Lucifer let out a childish groan, plopping his chin in his palm, “Why is it that tacky piece of—” He cut himself off when he heard your giggle. At time he thought you were giggling at his name-calling, but you were looking at Alastor with a soft gaze before you caught yourself and turned back to Lucifer. He smiled along, “Maybe he’s not too bad if he can make you smile like that.” “Like what?” You tilted your head, not following. You blinked twice when Lucifer suddenly lean extremely close to you with a smirk, you raised a brow, “What are you doing? “Oh, darling!” Alastor sang, immediately came over and swatted Lucifer away from you like a bug. Before you could make a comment, he showcased a tray of freshly fried donuts. “I glazed it with some sugar. I can make more flavours, if you so desire, My Dear.” You picked up one and tried it, “Taste great, Alastor.”

Even though Lucifer is happy for your own happiness, he can’t help but want to rile up Alastor just to show that Radio Demon you had a close friendship with The King of Hell. When you were still in slumber mode, he warned Alastor thoroughly that if you were to cry under any circumstances, Alastor’s gonna answer to him

You found it odd how you were somewhat surrounded by people now. Just a year ago, you were trying to get Alastor out of your home and living your dream life. But now, you were in a hotel of all places. You wonder what your life came to really

Your eyes landing on Alastor, you can’t help but smile fondly. Your biggest change was letting someone else into your life and you like it. You can’t deny that Alastor was on the extreme side, but it was all his way of showing affection, so you can’t deny that any longer. They say time will time, and they proved Alastor was a devotee to your affection 

It was a mystery why you accepted the gang’s invitation to drink when you were heading to the kitchen for some food, since Alastor was out to visit Rosie. It left you drank and a talker, you were more energetic and carefree than usual, a completely different side. When Alastor came back, everyone was quick to scatter, not wanting to explain themselves to the Radio Demon for your state

“Alastor! Welcome back!” You waved, hopping off the high chair while holding onto your wine glass, wobbly but careful not to spill. “You’re very late today.” “Apologises, My Dear, Rosie was introducing me to some new shops for your steak.” Alastor took the wine glass away and threw it into the bar where Husk was hiding under, he held onto your hand to balance you, “What have you been doing, Darling?” “Oh, nothing. Charlie and the others invited me to drink, Husk made me this bubbly drink that’s a bit… bubbly!” You giggled, planting your face into Alastor’s front, hugging him as you snizzle at him. “Very bubbly.” Alastor looked up to glare at the bar, though void of the culprits that put you in such a state. You avoided alcohol for a reason. He picked you up, holding you like a princess. “Well, My Dearest, time to head back to your room then.”

This state of yours was a wild card to Alastor. Sometimes, you were highly aware of your surroundings and played flirty, sometimes you were sleepy, sometimes you were talkative, sometimes you were cruel. It was like different sides of you were fighting for dominance

He have only seen you sleepy once when he added alcohol into the meal for taste, you fell asleep before you finished your food. The next day he inquired and you told him your drunken states, strictly telling him to not let you drink alcohol or put them in your drink or food. So he was puzzled how Charlie and the others got you to drink

Boredom got you to do a lot of things. Try out new hobbies only to revert back to your old ones in a matter of days. An intensive obsession that doesn’t last long, a frequent phenomenon with you. That’s why you were adamant about him leaving you, you think Alastor will get bored of you and leave out of the blue when you had no time to prepare

Alastor was well aware, though he had no idea where this rooted from, he proved you wrong by staying with you all these years without fail. He’ll continue to do so too

“Ask me something. I’ll answer.” You shifted to sleep on your side, eying Alastor who was cleaning up the mess you’ve been. “Anything.” “Dear, you’ll regret this. I won’t take advantage of your drunk state.” You pouted, “I won’t regret it. We’ve been close. I don’t mind letting you know things, I’ll not answer if I don’t feel comfortable, okay?” Alastor hummed, snapping his fingers to change your clothes to something more comfortable for sleep, then he took of his coat to place it on an armchair. He sat down on the bedside, “Are you sure, Dear? I will ask anything.” “Yeah.” You hugged onto a soft toy nearby “Why did you kill yourself?” “...My life wasn’t worth living.” You muttered, your eyes downcasted. It was a lucky thing that Alastor’s back was to you. “I didn’t see a meaning in my life, every day it was like I was torturing myself.” “Why are you hesitant about accepting connection, affection and love?” You chuckled drily, “That’s so direct, Alastor.” You hummed and closed your eyes, recalling memories of the past when you were alive. “I loved connection, I loved affection too. I never understood love. I had so many friends when I was younger, like a kid, but I realized they weren’t friends and it was a form of bully. I thought my family cared about me but when I wasn’t useful, they pushed me aside.” Alastor moved his hand to you, wiping away a tear that escaped your closed eyelids. “I’m sorry to hear that, you don’t deserve that.” Despite his gentleness to you, he was seething with rage. “No wonder you were pushing me away, Darling.” “I thought I had the love of my life though. He confessed first, I ignored it then accepted it. Then he and I broke off. Afterwards, we’re back together again. He called me clingy, annoying, he regretted giving me his love. So I broke it off. Then he came back to me, saying he was wrong. I was desperate. I accepted, thinking it was the last. I shouldn’t have accepted.” You took a deep breath, your eyes opened, glassy and dull “He’s not worth your time and energy, Doe.” Alastor sat properly, letting you lie in his lap while he played with you hair. “Forget him.” He almost growled, he controlled himself so his claws wouldn’t sharpen. “Forget all about him.” You closed your eyes once more, leaning into his touch. “I killed myself in my sleep. I wanted to sleep forever and ignore all the suffering around me. I don’t want to hear their laughter, I don’t want to see their smiles, I don’t want to sing them praise and congratulations. I don’t want to know about their achievements while I was… I don’t want it…” “Shhhhh… Darling, it’s alright.” Alastor looked down at you, bringing your fluffy blanket up to you. “You don’t need to care about them, you have me with you now. Whatever you desire is yours.”

The promises and whispers of giving you the world, in exchange for your presence in his life. You believed you took Alastor for granted. You were indifference to his affection and care in the beginning, when he showed you such extreme to protect and defend you (even when it’s not needed), you were scared that he saw you as the next entertainment

So you kept pushing him away. Showing him to the door when he was all healed up. You knew it only took that long because he was worsening his wounds to stay longer. It was a cliche tactic and you saw through it. When that didn’t work, he said he had to stay to replay you for your kindness. A rarity in Hell, which you agree. But you told him, “It was only to amuse myself.”

Alastor merely laughed and commended on your honestly. Freshing, as he claimed. Everything you did to get him away from you, it only drew him closer and closer to you. To the point where you have to take a break from it all, to clear your head and think. The hotel, it was perfect, so you sent him there. Maybe he’d find better entertainment there

But then he gave you reports daily, an excuse to hear your voice and feel your presence through the radio. He spotted a loophole. You found yourself looking forward to his reports. Even letting him visit once for a ‘job well done’ reward. He delayed his return to the hotel and you didn’t complain

You told yourself not to fall for him. Don’t let history repeat itself. Save yourself the heartache. This was Hell, no way would someone like Alastor devote to you just because he loves you. No way. Don’t hope. Don’t expect. If you do, you’re putting yourself up for a nasty fall

When you heard that Alastor’s old friend Mimzy came over, completely ignoring the way he treated a soul he owned that went by the name Husk. The next day, you found yourself on the streets searching for this Mimzy character. She didn’t have a good reputation, but who does in Hell. You felt your anger raising when she spoke of Alastor’s name left and right to take whatever she wanted

Before you knew it, you had fired a shot at her. You left before she found you. You left yourself slip. Why now? Why? What made Alastor different? Lucifer saved you from a quick suicide after your arrival to Hell, you didn’t feel the same with him as you did with Alastor. Why? WHY?

You thought you had a piece of mind when Alastor told you the exterminations were targeting the hotel first. This will end your mistake. This will save you the fall. You gave Alastor your order, “Protect the hotel and the Princess must be aided to the best of your abilities.”

To see things end, you stood a safe distance away from the battle. Your eyes on Alastor who took up the role of battling against Adam. You should have smiled that Alastor’s chances of winning was slim, but you found your heartbeat quicken as anxiety rose

The back of your mind shouted at you. Alastor will die. Adam’s an angel. He has angelic powers. Save him. Can’t let him die. One strike from Adam and Alastor’s history. You’ll be free. Wait. No!

Your hands moved as you brought out a spare blank book, you opened it and the winds picked up around you. The pages all came out, flying around you. You teleported between your enemy and your (potential lover) friend

The moment you activated your teleportation, you made your peace, you love having Alastor around you. You love his presence. You love him

Note: I ended up writing too much again. And what's with all those asks suddenly??? So shocked to get that. What ever started them???

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

@nevermore-ramblings 

@justboredforreal 

@youroneandonlysimp 

@falsemain

@scenteddelusion5

@anni1600

@readergirlstuff

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✩࿐

pairing: lyney x gn!reader

content: fluff, modern au, high school au, friends to (almost) lovers, mutual pining, theatre kids, lyney and the reader rehearse a kissing scene

summary: playing the role of his lover in a drama production is easier said than done, especially when you’re just beginning to realize the nature of your feelings for him.

a/n: i had no inspiration for a while but then lyney came along. i’m so normal about him. anyway, i hope you enjoy reading!

When you were told that you had to kiss your best friend for a school play, you were in shock and disbelief — not because you were repulsed by the thought of playing the part of a couple, but because you realized that you didn’t mind the idea of his lips pressed against yours.

You’re not quite sure when the feelings crept up on you, dawning in your heart like the hazes of peach and azure that dust the horizon at sunrise. It feels like it’s been an eternity since you started loving Lyney, but you’ve just never noticed that your adoration was beyond platonic. 

However, after experiencing your epiphany, you’ve been wondering if he shares your rose-tinted sentiments. Slowly but surely, you observe that the lines between friendship and romance have become blurred, fusing together in a myriad of watercolour hues.

Every once in a while, Lyney will hold your hand for no reason, the softness of his skin akin to the caress of gilded threads of sunlight. There are also instances where he’ll hug you for just a little too long, clinging onto you as if he never wants to let go. And of course, you’ll never be able to forget the sentimental nights spent gazing up at murals of sparkling constellations dotting pristine navy skies, where you cuddle with your best friend in an attempt to stay warm.

In these instances, a simple question lingers in the short silences, an untold inquiry that neither of you care to utter in fear of shattering the status quo.

What are we?

So now, as you sit across from Lyney atop the velvety cushions of his living room couch, ready to rehearse very kiss that sent you spiraling into a bout of infatuated hysteria in the first place, your heart can’t help but race. The melody it sings is one that speaks of perplexing feelings and a hope for fairytale endings, and it only amplifies as you look into pale violet eyes that sparkle as iridescent petals flutter about in their depths.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Lyney whispers, smiling at you reassuringly. There’s something soothing about the expression on his face, embodying the serenity of a marine zephyr in the midst of a cruel summer.

“How can you be so calm when we’re about to practice a kiss?” you ask, voicing your thoughts out loud. “What if we’re not good enough?”

Truthfully, you’re a nervous wreck. Your fingers tremble, and your mind feels blank. You’ve always known that Lyney was born to be on stage, but you didn’t think he’d be so nonchalant in a situation like this. His disposition is completely composed, not a single spark of anxiety shining through his tranquil demeanour.

On the other hand, you’re constantly pondering the what ifs.

What if you mess the scene up? What if it turns out looking awkward? What if it’s so horrendous that it makes the audience uncomfortable.

However, in total contrast to you, Lyney simply chuckles, his voice ringing out in a clear and soothing fantasia.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you, keeping his gaze fixated on you. “I’m sure our chemistry will be absolutely perfect. After all, even Lynette has mistaken us for a couple.”

“She has?” you blurt out, both shocked and embarrassed that Lyney’s twin has had her misconceptions about your relationship. The two are practically telepathically linked, so the tall order of fooling Lynette would more or less be akin to deceiving the heavens above.

“She has,” Lyney confirms, a mischievous spark of violet electricity blazing through his irises, “and that’s why I’m certain we’ll be able to pull this off flawlessly.”

He gently laces his fingers around your hand, bringing it up to his chest.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m not nervous at all.” From beneath the soft fabric of Lyney’s clothes, you can feel a gentle thrumming, a beat that resounds at a tempo matching that of your very own heart. “You know, even the greatest of performers get stage fright sometimes.”

In a mystifying twist, you feel more comfortable now that Lyney has told you that you’re not alone in your anxiousness. Your relief defies all logic, but perhaps it’s the knowledge that your feelings aren’t entirely unreasonable that soothes your nerves.

“I see,” you whisper. “Well I’m sure you’ll do great. We’ll get through this together.”

Lyney nods.

“I’m just glad it’s you,” he says, pausing for a moment as if deep in thought. “Actually, ‘glad’ would be an understatement. ‘Beyond overjoyed’ is more accurate.”

Your breath hitches, and for a second, the world seems to still, suspended in a momentary utopia. But despite your giddiness and the euphoric feelings that arise in your heart, you shrug Lyney’s words off, trying your best not to get your hopes up. After all, if you expect too much, you might find yourself disappointed in the end.

“The feeling is mutual. Although maybe we should get to rehearsing now. I think I’m ready,” you tell him, pulling your hand out of his grasp in a light motion, clinging on to the last of his warmth as his skin grazes yours. It’s reminiscent of fading sunlight comforting you with the dazzling radiance of a dying crepuscule, lulling you into a daze as it causes shades of twilight to waltz in a dance of fantastical wonders.

“Your wish is my command,” Lyney responds playfully.

However, after only a few seconds, his features shift into a more serious expression. Although the same smile adorning his lips, it’s softer now, more sincere.

Is this all part of an act, or is it real?

Additionally, an unidentifiable emotion now glints in a display of diamond lights, illuminating the seas of amethyst contained within Lyney’s eyes. Locks of platinum hair, composed of starlight essence, frame his face in a way that makes him look undeniably handsome. Once again, your heart, which had just barely stilled, begins to beat in a frenzy.

You want nothing more than to freeze time, stay in this ephemeral moment, relish in the sensation of his breath gently tickling your skin and engrave the ethereal sight before you into archives stored deep within your memories. But unfortunately, it’s impossible to pause the scene before you. Reality, unlike the countless movies and videos you’ve watched to study your part, stops for no one.

And before you know it, the divide between your lips and Lyney’s is diminishing, the blank space fading at a pace that feels both far too rapid yet far too prolonged at the same time.

Closer.

Closer.

And closer.

Until your lips meet in a clash of opalescent sparks, shedding light and embellishing the magical moment with an atmosphere worthy of any stage. The lilac butterflies that dance in the pit of your stomach prompt sensations of glee to arise within your heart.

His skin is soft and warm, and the feeling of his lips against yours is just so right. There’s no one else you’d rather kiss. There’s no one else you’ll ever long for. There’s no one in the world you’ll ever love more.

No matter how much you deny it, your relationship has crossed the line from platonic to romantic, gradually edging closer and closer to a thin border before finally falling over onto the other side. Your kiss with Lyney confirms everything. There’s far too much passion, far too much care and longing exchanged in a single act of affection.

Best friends don’t kiss each other like this.

At this point you’re certain the feeling is mutual. Now, all you have to do is wait until one of you inevitably confesses, and you’ll both be able to finally live happily ever after, basking in the splendor of true love.

thank you for reading <3 if you enjoyed this fic, i would really appreciate it if you could comment or reblog!

#r.archives *ೃ༄ #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin lyney

[c-rowlesblogs]

the last time I made a post about a character type I really like it went well, so here's another one: I love a character who is a piece of shit loser.

Let me explain: a very specific kind of piece of shit loser. This is a character who is almost never (at least not at first) a major protagonist or a major villain. They might be a mercenary or thief or black-hat hacker or in some other sort of antisocial "bad guy" line of work. They are some sort of henchman, or at least have strong henchman energy: dangerous and/or talented in specific skills perhaps, but also, importantly, undeniably a loser. Their personality sucks. They're uncharismatic and unpleasant. The heroes interact with them only when they must-- and this character deliberately cranks up the cynicism around especially sunny or optimistic heroes. They know the world is a cold, hard place, and the only thing they trust is cold, hard cash (if they're even getting paid for this shit). Things like "hope" and "friendship" are for suckers.

Until... somehow, some incident or confrontation or compounding sequence of events puts a crack in their armor. It's a crack where the light can get in-- and also, alarmingly (to others and to them), shine out. It turns out this piece of shit loser had a little spark of goodness buried deep inside all along, and no matter how much they dig in their heels and insist they don't care, their conscience is steadily pulling them over to the "good" side, and it's winning. And the heroes know it, too: this character might still be a piece of shit loser, but now they're their piece of shit loser, and there's no going back.

#writing #characters #blorbo #catie talks #this character is also almost never a woman but when she is u bet she is my favorite even more #the last time i made a post like this the blorbos people tagged it with were really diverse and good #i hope that happens again this time i want to see who people's favorite shitty little guys are #psychic damage tags - this post is generalized but I did have some specific characters in mind while writing too #and one of them is absolutely Iago from Disney's Aladdin and its sequels

[monzamash]

ruin the friendship — charles leclerc

summary – maybe you were a little more than friends but that was between you, charles and god. nobody else. and you refused to be the one to break the pact. pairing – charles leclerc x you (female reader) rating – 18+ (smut, language, sexual references, probably bad french/italian) word count – 2.5k a/n – “we passed being friends like 20 fucks ago” requested by anon. thank you! masterlist

“Everybody get changed for dinner and we will meet downstairs at the restaurant in an hour. Le Bein?”

The group of nearly a dozen of Charles’ co-workers, employees and friends all nodded in agreement and went their separate ways in the foyer, buzzing about how beautiful the resort was. And it was truly magnificent. Extravagance fortified every wall, even the ceilings. Chandeliers dangling from the rafters above, sparkling and flaunting the huge amount of wealth that was stashed away in the Italian Alps. Eye-watering amounts of wealth.

You weren’t enamoured like the rest because simplicity was more your taste, minimalist living was the way of the future and you weren’t afraid to voice that to Charles as he walked up beside you, eyes trained on your rolling ones. His hand was dangerously hovering above your lower back, the large puffy jacket the only thing keeping his hot touch barricaded from your cool skin – he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s over the top but Ferrari is paying for all of it,” He whispered into your ear, too close for your comfort, especially around his brothers who were no doubt watching your every move – adamantly sceptical that you and Charles were just friends.

“I should report you for misuse of company funds, sir. And if anyone from work asks why I was here when we get back next week – it was a coincidence. Purely happenstance.”

“Si,” Charles drawlled, toggling between his native tongue and Italian, which always threw you off, “You coming up to my room after dinner will just be some luck too, yes?”

You could hear the smirk on his face before you let your eyes glance his way, breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck and again, standing way too close for a pair of colleagues who, by chance, had accidentally found themselves in the same place, at the same time. That was the story and you were sticking with it. Unfortunately Charles was a horrible actor – that much was obvious since the moment he sparked up this unlikely romance with you but in his defence, his impulses were intensified after weeks of being away from you. And you felt the same.

The relationship wasn't exclusive by any stretch of the imagination in the beginning, but as time went on, you became loyal to each other. The friends with benefits label was a facade for the public and for your employment but deep down, you both knew there was more to your relationship than just sex. You knew each other so intimately and spent hours staying up ‘til dawn, sharing your deepest, darkest secrets. He made you feel safe, like you were more than just a girl who happened to work for the same company he worked for. It was easy to get swept up in the lavish lifestyle and reap the benefits that came with it but Charles saw you differently – saw life differently. And to him, you were the missing piece to his puzzle.

You were friends’ first – great friends but he was charming and by far the most attractive man you’d ever laid your two eyes on. And by some miracle, he felt the same way about you. But all of that meant your friendship had been compromised, your working relationship was hanging in the balance because if either of you caught feelings and made them public, then you’d have to report it to HR and you didn’t want to lose what you had.

Because sneaking around was kind of hot. Or really hot if you asked Charles and you didn’t want to burst his bubble. You weren’t that selfish and truth be told, you enjoyed the thrill of it. The secret glances from across a table when you were supposed to be taking notes, subtle touches whenever he complimented your suggestions in a meeting and riskiest of all, the quick fucks in his drivers’ room between qualifying blocks. That had unabashedly become a perk of your job and a scandal waiting to be blown wide open but you loved it.

“I think it might just be your lucky day, Leclerc,” You replied and looked away from the man who was seconds away from exposing your secret, calling off dinner and dragging you up to his room for dessert. But he was better than that and obviously he could control himself for a couple more hours. Surely. 

“See you soon then.”

He looked like a man tortured when you walked into the restaurant, all of your glorious curves swaying side to side, eyes on everyone but him. Since simplicity was your style, you’d gone classic – long, black satin skirt hiding the stilettos you wished you didn’t have to wear, paired with a black blazer and a white, lacy bustier top underneath. It was a fancy establishment, which meant everyone was done up to the nines, their best attire on display and you were pleasantly surprised that Charles hadn't caved to the pressure of appearances, marching to the beat of his own drum in a basic black tee. He still looked as delicious as the aperitini he’d already ordered for you, eagerly awaiting your arrival.

“For me?” You asked him politely, feigning surprise even though these were the little things he would do for you in place of physical touch.

“Of course.” He smiled, delighted that you took the seat directly across from him and not the one being offered to you by his annoying younger brother.

You are beautiful, he mouthed once everyone returned to their 'round the table small talk. You are. Charles had you blushing and fidgeting with your thin gold chain, as if it was first time he'd ever said that to you. It wasn't but it still had you squirming in your seat, grinning like a lunatic.

The 3-course dinner was sensational, and more than satisfied the hunger you’d conjured up during your long day on the slopes and Charles agreed wholeheartedly. He had also worked up quite the appetite retrieving you from the snow every time you stacked it, brushing the ice from your suit and cheeks, lingering longer than he should have. It was great fun but famishing once you all made it back to the resort.

“All my training has gone down the drain after that meal – my god.” Charles groaned and patted Andrea on the back with a mischievous smile, taunting his trainer and closest confidante. Andrea simply shook his head and muttered something to the effect of vaffanculo before disappearing into the bar with the others, sick of Charles' shit after being stuck with him in the Dolomites for the last 3 weeks.

You and Charles hung back from the group, both waiting for the other to send up the bat signal, or in your case, holding up the three-finger salute. Your first solo hang out – not a date – with Charles was watching the Hunger Games together, snuggled up with a glass of wine. Ever since, your signal to abort mission had been the sign used in that film and more recently it’d become your gesture for sex. Would you have liked it to be a little more sexy? Sure but it did the job.

“People are going to miss you, ma belle,” Charles whispered between the soft kisses he was sloppily pressing to your trembling lips, backing you against the only blank wall in the room.

“Don’t care.” You rasped, moans caught in your dry throat as you felt a pair of cold hands unzipping the long silk skirt you’d worn to dinner and gliding it down your shaky legs like it was as light as a feather.

A small gasp slipped from your lips as you caught Charles’ dark eyes again, his soft laugh fanning warmth across your face, "All I've been able to think about tonight is this..." He stammered off with a smirk before running his hands down your sides, pushing the thin blazer off your shoulders and gaining full access to the length of your neck.

You moaned quietly and brushed your dainty fingers through his soft, dark brown locks, "It's all I've wanted since we got here," You whispered and rested your head back against the wall, enjoying the feeling of his hands smoothing down your to your ass.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Charles growled against the tops of your breasts that were being pushed up by the tight bustier top, leaving you breathless and shaky under his touch. He got off on having complete control over your body, especially like this – desperate and panting for him in the darkness.

Charles dropped down to his knees and pushed his hands up under the hem of your top so he could access the waistband of your panties. You were spellbound now with your eyes closed and heart thumping in your chest, head dizzy and skin sizzling as he trailed his hands down your thighs, gliding your flimsy underwear down far enough that you could step out of them without needing to look.

"So sexy." Charles groaned at the sight of the dark red lace that had been hidden by your skirt, his hot breath now fanning over your shaky legs that were now completely bare and exposed to the cool air, even though your were burning up, "Le rouge n'a jamais été aussi beau." Red never looked so good.

His large hands gripped you thighs and roughly separated them in front of his mouth, every single little movement riling you up even more. Charles was ravenous, hungry to devour your after hours of deprivation – starved of your taste, of his name falling from your lips. He needed it, needed you to sing his praises, beg him for more and you never disappointed.

Your fingers brushed back up the side of his head as he hooked your leg over his shoulder and buried his tongue between your thighs, sending you into overdrive and taking your breath away. Your hands instantaneously gripped the tuft of brown waves on top of his head, trying to control the moans that were threatening to escape your chapped lips, his fingers doing the work of a maestro, orchestrating your body like a symphony.

"Feels so good," You whined as Charles grunted, mouth still attached to your cunt as he readjusted your leg on his strong, muscular shoulder, deepening the achingly perfect angle even further and making your already shaky legs start to tremble with pleasure.

Charles took your sensitive clit between his teeth, gently and pressed his free hand that wasn't clutching your thigh to your stomach, balancing you as best he could as you uncontrollably bucked your hips, riding his perfectly flat tongue. You placed your smaller hand over his and arched into his face, trying to alleviate the knot building in the pit of your stomach. He felt so fucking good and looked even better when you did dare open your eyes, peering down into his sinful ones.

The small smirk that appeared on Charles’ dimpled cheeks when your gaze met his was enough to send you spiralling into a whimpering mess, unable to stop the loud moan that ripped from your constricted throat – you were getting closer with every single teasing stoke he gave you, his thick fingers fucking you into a blackout and you were losing it. He muffled a laugh and didn't relent one bit as you white knuckled his wrist, attempting to hold in the noises that were so close to escaping, jaw clenched.

"I wanna hear you, bella – let me hear you," Charles panted as he glanced up and continued to taunt you, “I want to hear you moaning for me like this for the rest of my fucking life.”

Even in your orgasmic haze, you furrowed your already rutted brows at his comment, head throw back, still whimpering, “Friends don’t say that to each other, Charles.” You breathed, gliding on his unrelenting fingers, his pace slowing as he processed your words.

Charles scoffed and pulled back from your pulsing core, eyes trained on yours as he pressed a sweet kiss to your thigh, voice hoarse. “I think we passed “just friends” about 20 fucks ago, baby. You don’t have to pretend when it’s just you and me.”

It took you a second until you nodded silently, agreeing that you didn’t need to keep the act up with him. You brushed your fingers that had been knotted in his thick, beautiful hair, down the sides of his glistening face, lips raw and looking like a mirage.

“I like it when it’s just you and me.”

If you blinked, you thought he may disappear from your vision but he made sure you knew he was real, kitten licking your sensitive bud and reassuring you that he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.

“Me too.” He whispered.

It didn’t take long for Charles to resume his toe-curling assault, sending every nerve in your system into lockdown as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. He’d put both of your feet on the ground, thighs spread as far as they go so you could ride his face, insisting that you came like that for him. The feeling of having every breath suppressed from his lungs while you let yourself go on his tongue, fingernails clawing at the skin on your thighs was worth the rush of blood to his brain. His face was beet-red, pupils blown out and he was achingly hard, scared he was going to blow in his pants like a prepubescent teen.

"Oh my fucking god, Charles," You moaned loudly as he reached up and pressed his palm firmly on your flushed chest, needing to feel your heart thumping under your skin, making him feel alive.

"I've got you."

"I'm – baby, I’m right there!" You cried out, head thrown back against the wall again as Charles eased you through your earth shattering high, panting and sweltering under his touch.

Loud moans echoed through the hotel room as he lapped up everything you had to give, holding you in place and making sure you were completely satisfied before removing his shaky fingers and pressing a couple of pecks to your reddening thighs – no doubt leaving bruises from his tight grip. You couldn’t wait to feel those small reminders of his touch in the morning. It took a good couple of seconds for your mind and body to float back down from the clouds above and god, it was a gorgeous sight when you did come to.

"You are so good at that," You breathed as Charles used your hips to drag himself up off the carpeted floor, hands still clutching your waist to also keep your knees from buckling. He knew you too well.

The sensation of his swollen lips kissing yours brought you back and without hesitation, you hooked your arms over his shoulders and deepened the kiss. His hands snaked around your lower back, bodies flush and you could finally feel how hard he was underneath his trousers.

Knowing Charles was that turned on from making you feel ethereal triggered a proud smirk to sweep across your flushed face, “Would you like some help with this, friend?” You teased, reaching down for the button on his pants, flicking it open with ease.

“It’s what friends are for, no?” He cockily replied before you clutched his stiff cock in your palm, causing him to gasp at the sensation.

“Absolutely would love your help – thank you very much,” Charles quickly added, desperate for your attention as he captured your lips in a rough kiss and nudged your body towards his messy bed.

“That’s what I thought,” You chuckled into the kiss, letting him cash in every single benefit he could imagine. All night long.

let me know what you think!

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #f1 one shot #formula one #formula 1 imagine #monzamashmasterlist #monzamashprompts #f1 smut

[greatooglymooglyyy]

The Last Ride Chapter Five (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

series masterlist

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

contains: drinking, arguing, insecurity, 3.6k words

a/n: holy shit so many words. what the fuck

“Okay, okay, I got one. Lucky Charms or Frosted Flakes?” A familiar voice asks.

The soft breeze that fluctuates throughout the air sifts through the boy's hair softly, the sun beating down only furthering the color in his eyes.

This was always my favorite weather, not too overwhelmingly hot and stagnant, but also not a windy mess of a day—Just calm.

I scoff jokingly as I come around the fence, my demeanor more relaxed than it usually is on the ranch. “Frosted Flakes, duh. What do you take me for?”

Chris smiles and gives me a raised brow look, almost mocking me in a sense as he speaks. “Yeah okay, little Ms. ‘I like my eggs poached’.”

“Hey! Not everybody can scramble them hard like Birdie.” I say in defense, pulling myself up to perch on the ledge he’s leaning against.

He rolls his eyes and glances around at the ranch, probably counting off our tasks to make sure we haven’t missed anything. As he thinks, his body shifts closer to mine, his arm brushing my thigh and setting off sparks throughout my body.

It’s just Chris, just annoying egotistical Chris who happened to place his hand on my thigh, and I happened to like it more than I'd care to admit.

In the couple weeks since my birthday, we’ve fallen into something of a friendship. The teasing is still persistent, but it’s a lot less serious. There’s something new between us, something that feels like understanding but also seems a bit more tender.

Chris turns back to me, smiling brightly. “Well, I think it’s ‘bout time we call it a wrap, huh Scotch?”

He pushes off the fence and comes to stand in front of me, placing a hand on my hip and guiding me off of the ledge. Heat floods my skin at the casual touch and multiplies when he doesn’t immediately pull away once I’m on the ground. The moment holds for a second as our eyes lock; his thumb resting on the tiny patch of skin right above where my shorts end and my shirt begins.

When the moment ends, I expect him to do what he always does and deflect but this time he doesn’t. He just gently pulls away and smiles at me, as if finally acknowledging this dynamic between us.

We walk back to the truck to meet up with Uncle Buck, Chris growing a bit unusually quiet, nothing but the sound of our shoes on the dirt and the occasional rock getting kicked to the side. I reach over and gently push his shoulder in question and he meets my eye. He stops walking and I follow his slowed pace, now turning to stand in front of him. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing tonight?” He asks, visibly cringing at himself as he asks and I can’t help but smile at his new sense of awkwardness. “I just mean like, do you want to get out of the house?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.” I lie, nodding my head up slightly knowing damn well I’d go anywhere he wanted at this point. But, Chris doesn’t seem to know this, shifting the feet in his cowboy boots like he’s nervous, like I make him nervous.

“My friends and I usually meet up at Hank’s on Friday nights. It’s pretty fun, I think.” He says, looking over my shoulder and moving around his toothpick that rests in his teeth.

“Who’s Hank?” I ask, a bit concerned with the idea of going to a stranger's house for a first hangout. But, Chris just laughs, breaking the tension with a sound I'm more than happy to hear exit his lips.

“It’s a honky-tonk, girl.”

“Oh,” I think for a second, racking my brain to attempt to figure out what the hell a honky-tonk is. “Still lost, bud.”

He rolls his eyes, a proud smirk growing on his face. “Ain’t you ever seen the Hannah Montana movie?”

My jaw drops and I blink at him rapidly, processing the new ammo he just gave me for free. “Holy shit.”

“Alright, don’t start-”

“Pop it, lock it, polka dot it, countrify, then hip-hop it-” I sing obnoxiously as I slide around in front of him doing the dance.

His tongue glides over his front teeth, hiding the smile that so desperately wants to come out. “You know what? Stay home. You ain’t invited anymore.”

“Want me to do The Climb next?”

Chris shakes his head and steps around me, a small smile playing on his lips as he begins to walk towards the truck again. “Shut up. It’s a country bar. You coming or not?”

I sigh dramatically as I catch up to him, cocking my head to the side. “Way to make a girl feel special. ‘You coming or nah.” I mock.

He reaches out and grabs my elbow, tugging me to a stop. “Please come.”

I fight every urge to stop fully in my tracks at his words, the sudden affection catching me completely off guard. “Wouldn’t want a city girl like me ruining your fun with the boys” I tease, mocking his Southern accent.

He doesn’t reply, instead just staring down at me with a look of seriousness that I have yet to see through his eyes. “I’m kidding, I'd love to go,” I say, suddenly feeling smaller under his gaze.

He gives me a bright smile, the sun hitting just right to light his entire face up as relief sets into his shoulders. And just like that, I’m a goner.

*********************************************************

Aunt Birdie sits on the edge of my bed, watching as I sort through every piece of clothing I brought to Louisiana. I’ve been trying to put an outfit together for an hour but nothing is working. Everything is either too LA or meant to be work clothes only. I don’t want his friends to think I’m bougie but I’d rather die than wear overalls off of this ranch.

“So…” My aunt starts, trying and failing to sound casual as she kicks her feet gently. “Chris, huh?”

I toss her a look over my shoulder, immediately stiffening up. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, sure, bunny.” She answers with a knowing smirk. “Just friends.”

I sigh and stand from the floor in defeat before falling backwards onto my bed letting out yet another breath. This is impossible. “I’m not going.”

“The hell you ain’t!” She exclaims, hopping up and walking over to my closet with a new sense of urgency. “What’s wrong with this one?”

She pulls out a red, simple dress that I don’t even remember packing and holds it against her body, looking down at it with a confused expression. I tap my finger against my chin as I think but then throw my head back in frustration. “I don’t know. Just tell me what country girls wear, please.”

Birdie frowns and lowers the dress, coming back over to the bed to sit beside me. She taps my leg so I will sit up and look at her. “Is that what all this is about?”

Not wanting to admit how insecure I’m actually feeling, I say nothing for a second and then shrug as a familiar pit digs deeper into my stomach. “I just don’t want to stand out.”

It sounds pathetic, I feel pathetic, but the last thing I need is to look like some prissy LA girl that Chris dragged along. I just want to be liked.

My aunt laughs and places her palm to my face, cupping my jaw delicately. “Hate to tell you this darling but you’d stand out if you were a grain of sand at the beach.”

I groan, dropping my head onto her shoulder in full defeat. “Great.”

“Just be you, my love. If Chris wanted one of these little country chickenheads, then why did he go looking for you?” She insists, handing me the red fabric and standing.

Giving her a small smile, I take the dress and head to the bathroom, stopping on the way to grab my cowboy boots. It’s about time I give them a try.

The mirror and I aren’t friends in any capacity. My hands smooth over the dress, my mind still fighting every urge to text Chris and say I can’t go, but I don’t let myself, instead taking in a breath of air and letting it leave my lungs.

A smile replaces my once sad face. I'm going to a bar with a cute boy, and I'm excited about it.

Once I’m ready, I check my phone expecting to see a text from Chris saying he’s on the way but there are no notifications. I scrunch my face up but head to the living room to wait, the sight of him waiting on the couch taking me by surprise.

“How long ago did you get here?” I ask in confusion, looking over to where my uncle and aunt sit.

“Not long. Just an hour and a half.” He looks down dramatically.

“Chris! Why didn’t you-”

“I’m joking. Like ten minutes. You ready?” He says, standing with a smile on his face and dusting off his blue jeans.

“Why didn’t you just wait in the car and text me or something?” I ask as I walk over to meet him at the door.

Three pairs of eyes stare at me as if I’ve lost my mind, Chris’ holding genuine offense. “What?” I question defensively, my gaze shifting between the eyes on me as my eyebrows furrow together.

“Man, those city boys ain’t worth a damn.” He mutters as he holds the door open, waiting for me to walk first and following behind shortly.

I’m still a bit confused but I shake it off as I climb into his truck. To my surprise, it’s spotless like he’s just gotten it detailed and I look over at him when he gets in. “Why is your car so clean?”

The smell of cleaning materials and an air freshener overtakes any other sense.

Tossing an arm over my headrest to reverse, he kisses his teeth and shakes his head. “Can’t ever win with you huh? If it’s messy, you talk shit. If it’s clean, you talk shit.”

“I’m just saying.” I laugh, trying not to focus on how close his face is to mine. “Last time I got in here, it was a biohazard.”

“Last time, I wasn’t tryin’ to impress you.” He replies, sending my heart into overdrive. I can’t even think of a witty response so I just lean back in my seat, biting my lip to hide a smile.

Chris reaches forward and turns up his music, melodic rap music flooding the car, and then leans back. He places his elbow on the center console, his palm facing up, and I can’t help but stare at his hand, wishing he’d reach over and take mine.

Something takes over me and in a surge of confidence, I lace our fingers together, turning and looking out the window so I don’t have to see his reaction. He seems to tense up for a second so I let his hand go and move to pull mine away, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he intertwines our hands again, smoothing his thumb against the back of mine, and doesn’t let go until we pull into the parking lot.

Chris jogs around the car and opens my door, extending his hand to help me out of his tall truck. When I’m on the ground, he takes a step back and trails his eyes over me. “You’re wearing the boots.” He comments quietly, taking my hand again and leaning us towards the bar.

“For the first time,” I say looking down at them with a smile. “Hope I styled them right.”

He looks over at me again, his easy smirk pulling back up to his face. “You styled them right.”

I sigh at the way he always talks in circles instead of giving direct compliments, trying to push away how it reminds me of Jace. But he notices and squeezes my hand so I’ll look up at him. “You’re gorgeous, Scotch. Everyday. But especially in those boots.”

Thankfully, he swings the door open to Hank’s before I can melt into a puddle on the sidewalk and we head inside. He spots his friends and starts toward them, tugging me behind him.

Hanks was definitely unlike any other bar I’ve been to, a more laid-back, old-fashioned vibe as a crowd of cowboys overtakes the open space.

As much as I can love parties, the pit in my stomach before entering them never goes away.

A couple of the boys whoop out Chris’ name when they notice him and he chuckles, pulling back his free hand to dap them up. I stand awkwardly behind him, preparing myself for the moment when he’ll drop my hand now that we’re with his friends. But it never comes.

Instead, he pulls me to his side and introduces me with a smile. It’s a pretty big group, four girls and five boys, and they’ve pushed two tables together to make room for all of them. They all give me a friendly smile as Chris rattles off their names; a wasted effort since I’ll never remember them all.

“Y/N?” One of the girls says and I squint at her in confusion before recognition hits. “Hi, Abby!” I answer, relieved to know at least one other person besides Chris.

The girl next to her, Kayla, tosses Abby an annoyed look and scrunches up her nose. “How do you know her?”

I listen as Abby explains how we met in her store as Chris leads me to the chair across from her and pulls it out for me.

One of the boys, Jason, who I remember Chris describing as his best friend, leans across the table giving me a mischievous smirk. “So you’re the girl haunting our group chat, huh?”

Tossing a look at Chris as he settles next to me, I smile and shake my head. “I don’t think so. Your boy here hates me.”

Jason laughs and opens his mouth to say something but Chris cuts in quickly. “What’s everybody drinking? I’ll get a round.”

Everyone shrugs and says they’re good with whatever but their eyes all seem to settle on me as if I’ll need a special order. I roll my eyes, agreeing softly that anything is fine.

Chris heads off to the bar and the boys turn back to each other starting up a conversation about sports. Kayla stares me down, flipping her jet-black hair over her shoulder, and I narrow my eyes back.

“What were you from again, Amber?” She asks sweetly, feigning innocence.

“Y/N.” One of the other girls corrects, but they lower their eyes to the table when Kayla glares at them. She turns back to me, poking her lip out in a forced pout. “Oops, sorry. That’s right. That was Chris’ last hoe of the week.”

I smile widely, knowing she thought that would really get me. “Interesting. Which week were you?” I ask, adopting her sickly sweet tone.

This is a game I've played before, and I've won it in the past.

The table goes quiet as she sneers at me before Jason barks out a laugh and Abby fights back a smile.

“Don’t be bitter, Kayla baby. You know I’m still single.” He says as he slings an arm over her shoulders. She turns to him and sniffles before knocking his arm off. “Shut up, Jay.”

I strike up a conversation with Abby and the other two girls about their shoes until Chris finally returns with the drinks.

He sets the tray in the middle of the table before he comes back to his seat and leans in to whisper in my ear. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to. Hank only serves us the real cheap shit.”

I pull back and give him a look of disbelief. “You think I’ve never had cheap vodka?”

Kayla snorts across the table and I glance over at her, starting to get annoyed with her attitude. “What’s cheap to you? Forty dollars? Please. You’re strung up tighter than a corset.”

“You got an issue?” Chris asks, leaning forward and staring at her until she sits back. I place a hand on his arm and smile, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s fine. Wanna see a party trick I learned?” I ask the table.

When they agree, I lean forward and pick up a shot glass with my mouth, tilting my head back and rotating it with my tongue until the liquid splashes down my throat. When it’s gone, I lower the glass back to the table, all the while keeping my arms at my sides. “No hands.” I sing, giggling a bit when the table starts to whoop and cheer for me.

“Alright, that was kinda cool, Scotch, I’ll give you that. But can you do this?” Chris says, grabbing a glass of Guinness from the tray and chugging it down until he splits the G.

I smile at him and shrug. “Maybe not but mine was more impressive.” I tease as he wipes his mouth.

“You’re right, it was. Teach me how to do it.” He says, reaching down and grabbing the base of my chair to slide me closer to him.

*********************************************************

“So you actually want to try not to hit the white ball into the pocket,” I call out with a grin. “I don’t know if you knew that or not.”

“Oh yeah. Thanks. That was real helpful.” Chris yells back sarcastically as he digs out the ball.

I’m sitting on a decently comfy chair in the back of the bar watching Chris get obliterated in pool. The rest of the girls went to join line dancing, something I was definitely not ready for, so I decided to stay back.

Jason sinks the 8 ball into the pocket, grinning and holds his hand out for payment.

“No way you’re not cheating,” Chris says as he slaps a twenty into his friend’s palm. He sighs and comes back over to me, bracing a hand on either arm of the chair and leaning down. “And you. Ain’t you supposed to be my good luck charm or something?”

I shrug noncommittally. “I tried. I can only do so much.”

“Is that right?” He says laughing as he reaches down and grabs my sides causing me to squirm. God, I regret the day I ever let him find out I was ticklish.

Someone calls Chris’ name and he turns, saving me from my torture. “Hank the man!”

A man who looks about my dad’s age steps around and gives us both a wide smile. He’s got kind eyes and the type of receding hairline that just makes me want to trust him.

“What’s going on with you, huh? You come into my spot and you don’t give me a wink!”

“Aw, you know it’s not like that. I was a little distracted.” He answers, nodding his head back at me and sending heat up my neck.

Hank looks back over at me and extends a hand, introducing himself. “You must be Y/N.”

“Don’t say that. She’s gonna think I sit around talking about her all day.” Chris sighs in fake annoyance.

“Don’t worry. I already assumed you did.” I chime in, laughing. Hank chuckles and taps Chris on the chest. “I like her. Keep her close.”

Chris smiles over at me, electricity humming between us. “Trying to figure out how to do that as we speak.” He admits.

I study him, wanting nothing more than to stand and kiss him with every bit of emotion I can muster but refrain.

“Well, you better figure it out. I ain’t seen a beauty like that in this town since your mama.” Hank jokes, nudging a shoulder against Chris’. And before he even responds, I sense the change in the atmosphere.

Chris narrows his eyes, his nostrils flaring out as he levels the man with a stare. “Shut your fucking mouth about that.”

Hank looks startled, clearly not meaning any offense but Chris storms out of the bar before he can apologize. The bell over the exit announcing his departure.

I stand there dumbly for a second before I follow him out, calling his name. He slows slightly, looking over his shoulder at me, but the fire in his eyes hasn't cooled a bit.

“Not now, Y/N.” He snaps as we reach the car, going around to the driver’s side and slamming it shut before I can even open my door. I hesitate for a second and he lays on the horn as if I’m taking an hour. Biting back my irritation, I hop into the truck silently, stealing looks at his hardened profile as he speeds out of the parking lot.

Once a bit of time has passed, I chance speaking, hoping to help him out of this sour mood. “Are you alright?”

He chuckles bitterly, shaking his head in annoyance. “Stop pretending like you care.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, turning my body towards him and hardening my eyes.

“You heard me. Why does it matter? You ain’t my girl. You’re just some broad who’s gonna fly out of here in a couple of months and never look back.” He rants, his breathing heavy.

I blink at him for a few seconds trying to reconcile this boy next to me with the one who I just spent the night with. Before I give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me, I turn away, whispering a quiet “okay”, and focus on the passing town.

When we pull up in front of the house, Chris opens his mouth as if to say something but I quickly toss the door open and slide out. Not allowing myself even the slightest glance at his face, I slam the door shut and head inside.

And just like every time I’ve ever gone out with Jace, I end the night wondering where exactly I went wrong.

🏷️/ @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @clemlament @fwskullz

@luv4kozume @xoxo4chrisss @lacysturniolo

#maggie b writes #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #maggie b talks too much #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fic #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo angst #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fandom #sturniolo fanfic

[whisperingtales]

I would like for you to envision something adorable with me, okay? Let's go on the journey together.

Let's say you are a customer of Eddie's, right? The first note he received in his locker from you was a few weeks into senior year — your first, his third. The first dealings of many between the two of you, as time goes by the deals become more frequent, last a bit longer.

A friendship blooming, growing into something exquisite — but the never ending interactions only happen in the forms of deals. Never a date, or a phone call.

Stealing glances, inches apart — never to touch, never to taste. Not for a moment, no none at all. The spark extinguished.

A night out with friends at the annual fun fair — hands in your jacket, lips turned up in a small smile, listening to your friend ramble about her newest crush as you wait your turn to ride the ferris wheel.

You didn't feel the gaze of loving, auburn eyes admiring you from a far. Eddie clocked you in the ticket line — a few groups behind you, he fought the urge to run up to you. To merge groups, ultimately leading to the two of you going off by yourselves.

Alas the scared, little boy inside kept him at bay — fills him up with insecurity and hesitation, settling for glimpse of you.

He keeps an eye out for you, listening for your voice or laugh.

He watches from the booth — Jeff and Gareth battling it out at balloon darts, trying to see who could pop the most. His heart thumps, faster and harder against his ribs cage as if trying to escape, trying to get to you.

His heart wanted nothing more than to burst from his chest, run towards you, mesh into your own heart, returning to its rightful place.

Eddie couldn't fucking take it anymore — it was time for him to go home.

He walks up behind you — quietly, a smirk on his lips. His callous palms cover your eyes, body melding with yours as his chin rest on your shoulder.

He's about to whisper in your ear, only for you to speak first. "Eddie?" You ask, baffling him. You whirl around to face him, smile crinkling your sparkling eyes. "You're here!"

His smile mirrors yours, hands finding refuge in the back pocket of his ripped jeans, shoulder shrugging as his feet sway. "Yeah, came with the guys."

"Think they mind if I steal you for a ride on the ferris wheel?"

He doesn't bother looking back towards his friends, waving them off as he mumbles about them under his breath. "Lady's first." He gestures, holding out his hand to help you into the ride. It goes around once, twice, stopping at the top on the third go. You slide closer to Eddie, admitting your fear of heights.

"I got you, sweetheart."

He slings his arm around you, pulling you into his side as close as possible. You nuzzle into him, looking up at him — gaze stuck on his lips, soft and plush.

Tempting. Oh, so tempting. And, to put simply, you just couldn't resist any longer. You lean in, hoping he'd get the hint. Boy did he, smashing his lips to yours.

He pulled away once out of breath — forehead smushed against yours, nose nestled with yours, matching smiles as his thump caresses your cheek. The spark blossoms, igniting into a wildfire. Another kiss, parting at the jerk of motion as the ride starts to descend. "Win me a teddy bear, Eds?

"If my girl wants a teddy bear, she gets a teddy bear."

And he most certainly does win you that teddy bear — after the fifth attempt, at least.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #fanfic #blurb #fluff #*emfics #*emblurbs #i got on to write something else and here we are lol #i hope this is okay

[deltamb3r]

What is your analysis and interpretation of Lamb’s character? How do you see them from the game story to your AU?

Mhh...

To my AU we have a Lamb that for most of their younghood has been living in a warm community of sheep over the edge of the Lands until a raid happen and witnessed all of them being killed. They had their innocence, as well as all what was important to them being taken away. They were scared and hopeless.

Until they were called in by The One who Waits. As he offered the crown, Lamb had gained a spark of hope the maybe at the end they could have their kind back. They were grateful for the opportunity of having life back again and for it to have a meaning. Not to say that starting a Cult was that easy, fortunately they had Ratau's guidance back then. They were genuinely happy to build a shelter for animals who were looking for a new place to live in and hoped to build a community as warm as their own, but much different was when they were on crusades, they mastered the art of weaponry and became a cold, merciless killer against the heretics who took everything away from them. Even The One who Waits was aware of their coldness when summoned to him.

Months passed. Years passed. Decades passed. Lamb became a beloved leader oh their humble and ever growing cult, but within them they felt more and more lonely, as they watched people coming and dying, unable to create everlasting bounds of friendship or relationships alike. Their genuine smile was replace by a facade. Their only recurring acquitances being their mentor every once in a while, and their Lord.

When the moment of freeing The One who Waits finally arrived, Lamb was doubtful wether requesting the resurrection of their kind, but every hope they had was crushed as their Lord requested their sacrifice for his freedom. Accepting the fact that their God wasn't any different than his siblings, they challenge him and the fighting ensues. Lamb in the end wins over The One who Waits, now Narinder, and over deciding to take revenge, they decided to spare him. After all he was the only living being left in the wole ordeal who could understand them. Of course they kept distance from them as long as possible without interacting with Narinder at all, just observing from afar his adjustments to mortal life (and freedom), but not without a punishment first.

Very long time passed, however it did not heal both of their wounds. Both of them started regretting their life choices. Lamb wanted to live, to have their family back but had no idea how to use their power to its fullest. Narinder calmed down eventually and realized that in his freedom was feeling empty without his family. They were alone, but in loneliness, at least they had each other.

Their healing was slow, few hundreds of years passed. Both of them had scars and that became a catalyst for an eventual change of conversation. Their conversation added more and more to the mix, and the duo found comfort in talking to each other. As they opened up more, Lamb's smile around Narinder became more real. They felt less lonely with him around, as they had hoped.

And in the end they ended up as having more than a unlikely friendship. Lamb shows their real feelings around Narinder and vice versa. They know whatever is going to face them, they know they're not alone anymore.

however, the seed of doubt blossoms deep within them...

And that will lead to consequences.

#ask #cult of the lamb #scarlet oblivion au #cotl au #cotl #lamb cotl #narinder #the one who waits #narilamb #true devotion

[windvexer]

the Chicken furthermore tries to convince you to practice sorcery in a fun and fulfilling way

There is a difference between practicing goal-oriented practical sorcery, and placing the entire value of your sorcery on whether or not you achieved the goal. One of these things is soul-crushing.

Practicing sorcery should be it's own reward. The actual steps you are performing should be stuff that you like, or thrills you, or captures your fascination. As an activity, practicing sorcery should be satisfying regardless of whether or not the spellwork manifests properly.

If the sorcery on your plate is not satisfying, compost it and return to the endless buffet and try a different type of sorcery.

If you do not have the things you need, your first step to a spell becomes innovation. What is the purpose of the thing in the spell, and how can it be replaced?

A spell can be cast with a length of string, or a paper and pen. Or with a bit of crayon. Or a dead fly. Or with just you.

Sorcerous knowledge tends to reveal itself when the clutter of correspondences is placed aside, so having few things to practice with is not a curse.

You do not need an interpersonal spiritual friendship with every single spirit you want to work with in magic. YOU DO NOT.

Interpersonal friend relationships with spirits should probably be reserved for very special spirits in your "inner court," the beings with which you choose to share your life and that you honor as teachers and guides.

Many spirits are pleased to assist with magic, but have no interest in getting to know us personally.

Imagine if everyone in your askbox wanted to ask you for help on something you're knowledgeable about, but instead of just asking for help, they first wanted to DM you for a few weeks to make sure you're comfortable with being asked for help, meanwhile on your correspondence chart pinned post it says "I can help with [topic]! Just ask!"

Asking spirits for help in magic is a good, valid way to start building a relationship with them.

Repeatedly calling on the same spirit or type of spirit over and over in spellwork is a fantastic way to deepen your relationship with them.

Working with a spirit in magic does not mean you are obligated to build a shrine to it, venerate it, talk to it outside of spellwork, or any of that.

Practicing sorcery is not the same thing as casting a spell. Practicing sorcery also means practicing the composite skills which come together to make a spell.

A spell is like a completed painting. But to make that painting, the artist needed several skills: the ability to sketch the scene, knowledge of how to apply and work with their paint, color theory, an understanding of how to render landscapes, and so forth. As a sorcerer, your skillset might be imbuing intent, raising energy, centering and grounding, practicing trance, practicing psychism or divination, etc. As you gain familiarity with these things, spells become less like an imposing stranger, and more like someone you're sure you've met before.

Practice can be it's own reward, but discipline is often required for progress.

Raising energy once a day, forever? I think not.

Raising energy once a day for seven days? Or, dedicating to doing it a total of ten times this month? Perhaps so.

An artist may not be in love with every single step of the process, and sometimes a sorcerer may have to get good at a skill that's not their favorite. But if no part of the process sparks joy, then something is wrong.

Sucking at something is the first step to being kind of good at something. Be reasonable with yourself: does the beginner artist doodle a landscape, then look at their work and declare that their art "doesn't work"?

Not every witch is talented at every sort of sorcery. Not creating a potent prosperity spell after five tries doesn't mean you're bad at magic. It might mean that your current understanding of prosperity magic precludes good results, or that you are casting on one very intransigent situation, or that your true talents lie in destruction and chaos instead of peaceful growth.

Set practice goals, give it an honest go, and move on when the time is right: "I am going to practice raising Fire energy and putting it into this stone using the Pore Breathing method. I'm going to do it fifteen times." (3 months later): "That sucked and it never worked, but I did it all fifteen times. Next I'm going to do a grounded roots visualization and use it to channel water energy to cleanse my room." (10 days later): "That was awesome, I want to do it more than 15 times."

Play around and be silly with it. Taking your path seriously is not the same thing as taking your path somberly.

Sports teams practice drills to be ready for game day. Sorcerers are wise to take a page from their book, because when real-life game day arrives, it feels much better to deal with it when you know you've been having pretty good success with channeling water energies, so maybe it's best to do something with that, because you can't move fire for dick.