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lovemomhatepolice · 7 months ago

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what brought back that smile? - lando norris

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pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

warnings: kinda established relationship, fresh relationship, curious muppets!, English is my second language!

type: fluff, pure fluff

word count: 3,5k

summary: 5 times when someone asked the reason for Lando's sudden surge of happiness, but he preferred to keep his sweet secrets to himself

more content: f1 masterlist, lando norris masterlist, birthday one-shot

Since Lando Norris broke up with his then-girlfriend Luishina in 2022, no one has seen him this happy since. Of course, there have been moments where Lando walked around smiling - for example, when he won his first race in Miami or partying with friends in Ibiza. On more than one occasion, fans saw him joking and laughing until his stomach hurt with other drivers, but further down the line, everyone knew that the old Lando was gone. The one who laughed through love. The one foolishly in love, who proved it at every turn. Since his former relationship, Lando hasn't bonded with anyone - there were only rumors of fleeting romances or PR relationships. Until recently. In fact, no one knows when it took place. And since when Lando felt like a foolishly infatuated boy again.

THE FIRST TIME: Oscar Piastri When Oscar noticed changes in Lando's behavior, it was not much before the Japanese race. Or at least it wasn't so visible before. Norris was walking around smiling from ear to ear, constantly forgetting what he should do or who he should talk to about the changes in the car. No one paid much attention to it, and Oscar initially tried to ignore it as well, and winning in Miami a month later further eclipsed the spy's thoughts. After all, Lando had won his first race after so long in Formula One and so many times standing on the podium. The Mclaren drivers weren't the best of friends on the grid, but Oscar knew it wasn't because of winning the race. Or at least not just because of that.

Oscar was curious, even if he said very little about his life, the Lando case drilled him from the bottom up. And it started off small.

One morning 2 weeks after the Miami race, Lando showed up for a meeting with a goofy smile on his face. His attention was focused on everything during the strategy discussion, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” asked Oscar, poking his teammate under the table. As if awakened from his trance, Lando stopped tapping his fingers against his thigh and turned his head toward the Australian, smiling that silly grin again. “Yeah, all good, mate. “ he asked, tilting his head to the side. Oh, how foolishly charmed he was. “Why do you ask?”

Oscar shrugged. “I dunno. You just seem... happier these days. What brought back that smile?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Lando hung his head and laughed quietly under his breath, as if he was thinking whether he wanted to say it or rather not. And that was the option he chose, keeping his new infatuation to himself.

“Well, you know, buddy, I won a race recently. A chance to celebrate, huh?”

Oscar laughed, but couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else behind that smile, and that Lando was lying right in his eyes. Something - or someone - had brought back that trademark Lando smile. But Oscar decided to let it go for now.

Meanwhile, Lando was smiling to himself. Was it really that noticeable? Could everyone now know his sweet secret?

Such questions were cluttering his mind, but he tried not to worry about them. They were quickly superseded by thoughts of [Y.N]. It was wild how fast she had slipped into his life. What had started as a chance meeting turned into hours of effortless conversation, late-night phone calls, and a connection that had somehow brought him back to life. He hadn't felt this way since…. well, he couldn't remember the last time. And that was the point of it all.

MUPPETS: Carlos Sainz Jr Carlos had known Lando since 2019, so this year was their 5th anniversary of knowing each other. From the very beginning, the men, despite the age difference, got along great. And they soon became friends, too, supporting each other in worse and better moments. You could say they knew each other like the back of their hand, so while Lando was drifting away more and more each possible time during their conversations, the Spaniard had no more questions or thoughts. He was well aware that his younger friend's head was occupied by not something, but someone.

The sun beat down on the lush green of the golf course, the Spanish heat was unrelenting even in the early hours of the day. Carlos set up for his shot, squinting against the blinding glare, while Lando stood to the side, waiting his turn. It was a rare moment of calm before the chaos of the Spanish Grand Prix weekend, and Carlos was glad to be spending it with his best friend.

Until he saw Lando miss every time, which hadn't happened all that often before. Well, okay, Lando was worse than Carlos at golf, but to that extent?

And those constant glances at the phone, which he was so reluctant to leave in the golf cart.

“Ay, muppet. What the hell is wrong with you?” rang out Carlos' voice as he hit the ball.

Of course it flew cleanly where it was supposed to fly. But what's the pleasure of playing as your friend drills a hole in the grass with his club, his other hand constantly checking his phone screen?

"Huh?" Lando snapped out of his trance. This had been happening to him more and more often lately, nay, it had been happening to him for more than three months now.

“You’ve been smiling like an idiot all day,” Carlos teased, though his tone was softer, more curious than mocking. “Actually, you’ve been like this for weeks like not months now. So, tell me—who is she?”

Lando’s cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly turned his attention to the golf ball at his feet, fiddling with his club. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, but there was a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. And in fact, I don't think he wanted to get rid of it.

Carlos laughed, poking Lando playfully on the shoulder. “Come on, cabrón. I know you too well and it's been a long time since you've been this happy. So who's the lucky girl? Who brought back that smile?”

Lando sighed under his breath - he knew he could trust Carlos, he was his best friend. He just liked the fact that he and [Y.N] were in a closed bubble of happiness that they had made for themselves in three months. Of course it was still fresh and nothing was certain yet, but Lando gave in. To whom as to whom, but to Carlos he already had to tell. It was drilling him from the inside.

“It's … nothing serious,” Lando finally said, shrugging his shoulders as if it was no big deal. “It's just… I'm meeting someone. I'm trying to keep it discreet.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Dude, I've known you long enough to know when you're serious about someone,” he said, and his voice became softer. “And if she makes you smile like that, I'd say it's more than a casual.”

Lando bit his lip, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break through. The truth was that [Y.N] had quickly become the best part of his days.

“Maybe,” he admitted, finally meeting Carlos' gaze. “But for now it's just … between us, sure?

Carlos clapped Lando on the back, a broad grin on his face. “I’m happy for you, hermano. And don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone. But I have to say, it’s good to see you like this again.”

They both laughed and Lando already knew he was lost. Together, with Carlos, were like the biggest gossips, so he quickly unlocked his phone, even jumping up and down with happiness, wanting to show Carlos some pictures of them together. What luck befell him when he found out that [Y.N] also loves to take pictures.

Carlos leaned closer, curious. Lando pulled out a photo from a few weeks ago - from his once-in-a-lifetime date with [Y.N]. They were sitting on a blanket in a meadow somewhere by the water, the golden sunset casting a warm glow over them. The girl's head was tilted toward him and resting on his shoulder, her eyes were crinkling with laughter, and Lando looked happier than Carlos had seen him in a long time. His hand was on the girl's shoulders, visibly embracing her closer to him.

“I want her to be the one, you know?” muttered Lando, smiling even wider when he saw the notification from her.

LUCKY CHARM: Lando's parents Lando was able to hide his fresh relationship from his friends, from his fans and from the rest of the world. But he definitely couldn't hide it from his parents and siblings. Not even a month of knowing [Y.N] had passed when he vividly talked about how much he had fallen in love and how he hoped she was the one and last woman in his life. His loved ones were damn happy to finally see the most sincere smile of his entire life on the face of this little Lando Norris.

The air around Silverstone was charged with electricity, and the energy of the home crowd gave Lando joy like no other race on the calendar. Walking through the bustling paddock, he felt lighter than he had in years. It wasn't just the thrill of racing on his own track - it was the realization that somewhere among the sea of faces there was [Y.N], watching him.

Fortunately, he managed to smuggle her into a private hospitality suite, away from prying cameras, journalists and fans. They had been seeing each other for almost four months, in truth they were not a couple, but everything was going for it. Lando wasn't the only one who was foolishly infatuated with the relationship; the girl, like him, walked around with her head in the clouds, as her university colleagues or friends seemed to notice more than once. But in her case it was easier to hide, after all, she didn't have a million eyes on her like Lando did.

When Lando entered his private area in the Mclaren garage, he immediately noticed his parents, sisters and brother, who were smiling at him from ear to ear. The entire Norris family had a close relationship with each other, so of course everyone knew about Lando's new sweetheart, whom he had been dating with for four months.

“And there's our smiling boy!” laughed Lando's mother, hugging her son tightly. The driver laughed under his breath, hugging his family one by one, fortunately in a place where the eyes of others did not reach and they could have a moment of peace. “I'm glad you're all here,” Lando said, stroking his younger sister Flo's hair.

“How could we not be here?” asked Oliver, Lando's brother, laughing under his breath.

The atmosphere was great, however, everyone knew this question would come sooner than perhaps it should?

“Well, you know what, tell us where she is,” said Lando's dad, poking him lightly on the shoulder. “You're laughing so hard, I won't believe she's not here.”

“Yes! Show us finally what brought back that smile,” said his mom, echoing her husband.

Lando felt his face heat up, but he couldn’t keep the grin from spreading. “You two don’t miss a thing, do you?” he said, shaking his head.

“We just want to meet her,” his mum said softly, eyes twinkling with warmth. “We’ve heard so much about her, and if she’s the reason our son’s been so happy lately, we’d love to say hello.”

After a moment's thought, Lando nodded. “All right. I'll bring her - but behave,” he said with nervous but excited energy.

Lando slipped stealthily out of the garage and headed for his room, which only he and a few Mclaren people had access to. Although it was a rather hidden place, [Y.N] did not complain. She could wait out the time until the race in peace, just as she could go out to Mclaren's garage and watch it there. Lando made her as comfortable as possible.

When the girl saw him, she raised her eyes and smiled warmly in his direction. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, everything is fine,” he assured her, taking her hand in his. At the same time, he forced her to get up from the soft couch. “But… there is someone who wants to meet you. My family is even dying to meet the woman of my heart.”

The girl took a deep breath and smiled. “I'd love to meet them.”

Holding hands, they returned to the hospitality. When they went inside, Lando's mother sighed quietly and immediately crossed the room to hug [Y.N]. “Oh, how nice to finally meet you,” she said, and her voice was filled with sincere warmth.

“She's beautiful,” Cisca whispered, looking at Lando. The boy only whispered a quiet “I know” and laughed under his breath.

Immediately the whole family greeted the girl, hugging her tightly and bestowing kind words on her, including telling her how happy they were that she was making Lando so happy again. And everything was somehow better. His parents and siblings were talking to the girl he'd had in his heart for several months, and everything was going smoothly. Lando was just standing off to the side, keeping his hand on her back and giving her a little kiss to make her feel better. But he was probably the most stressed one there.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-start jitters begin to overwhelm him. But today he felt a little better than usual.

“I have to go now,” he said reluctantly, turning to face the girl. His parents moved away to give them a moment of privacy.

“You can do it, you're amazing on the track,” she purred, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently correcting his suit.

Lando merely smiled in her direction and without hesitation placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a quick but tender kiss. This was not how they had imagined their first kiss, but in that moment it was their best memory and the time this kiss could have happened. Lando pulled away from [Y.N], their eyes met and they both smiled at each other, giggling under their breath.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-race jitters starting to creep in.

“I’ve got to go,” he said reluctantly, turning to her. His parents stepped back to give them a moment of privacy.

“Good luck out there,” she whispered, her eyes shining with pride. “You’re going to do amazing.”

Lando smiled, but there was a flicker of nerves in his eyes. “I hope so. This one’s important,” he said softly.

[Y.N] reached up, cupping his cheek with her hand. “You’ve got this, Lando. I believe in you.”

Without thinking, Lando leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a swift, impulsive kiss. It wasn’t planned, but in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He pulled back, their eyes locking, and they both smiled.

“For good luck,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

And even if he came in third place after the race, it didn't bother him much. He won something better and it was an amazing woman.

HI IBIZA: Max Fewtrell stream Max knew Lando since they were kids. Both could not imagine life without the other person, they were inseparable. Even if it didn't work out for them to be Formula One drivers by their side, it didn't change anything. They were always side by side, and as soon as Max heard about Lando's new crush, he knew this was the one. Norris had never talked so seriously and eagerly about any girl before. And Max liked to tease him about it. But at the same time, he was damn happy.

The warm glow of sunset in Ibiza paints everything with a golden sheen. Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell and their group of friends held a casual live stream at their bungalow, which they rented for the whole group of friends. This stream was definitely different from their typical ones, where they played games on two different sides of the screen, but that was good too.

Everyone was more muted than at times when they were playing and shouting at each other. However, the biggest difference could be felt in Lando. He was more subdued, gently but sincerely smiling, and his eyes shone with such happiness that you could envy him.

The stream had been going on for about an hour, and the fans didn't run out of questions. They were inundated with the same questions as always, but today they had more opportunity to answer them because they weren't stressed by the background game. Lando kept getting questions about the Championship, the races, the competition and some side silliness. Until Max caught one significant comment among thousands of others. And of course he had to ask them.

Fan comment: "Lando, what brought back that smile? It's been a long time since we've seen you so happy, and of course that's great, but what's your secret?"

Max looks at Lando with a smile and winks. "Good question," he says, leaning back in his chair. "So, man, what's been making you so happy lately?"

"Oh, you know. Life has been better lately. Beautiful weather, sunshine, we have a beach house. The break from racing is good for me too, my head isn't as busy," Lando replied, playing with his hair and smiling under his breath.

Oh how he lied, how he lied to keep his bubble of happiness calm even longer.

"Really? Gee, I guess I agree with that comment, you're somehow happier lately," said Max, glancing at Lando with a teasing look. He remembered well how Lando had talked down his relationship on the stream, but he wasn't going to do the same to him. "Or maybe you've found a hobby other than Formula One?"

"Maybe," he laughed lightly under his breath, feeling the warmth inside his body. "I guess I just got old and I'm not that rebellious 20-year-old anymore "

"Oh, it's definitely old age, you name it" Max laughed and went back to looking for interesting comments, leaving the matter of Lando's happiness. He wanted his friend to still have peace from prying eyes.

After the stream was over, everyone went their separate ways. Some decided to have a bonfire, but Lando felt he needed the solitude. He walked out to the beach, which they had right outside the gate of their cottage, and felt the cooler evening wind brush his face. He smiled under his breath when he saw [Y.N] by the shore. It wasn't a smile that the cameras could see; he reserved this one for her alone.

The girl was wearing a white loose dress that swayed gently in the wind, and her hair was tousled by the wind. It wasn't a moment before she heard him and gently turned toward him, giving him a beautiful smile. "Have you finished the stream yet?"

"It's been a while now," Lando stepped closer, feeling the sand under his feet surround him pleasantly. "I had to get away from the chaos. And the fans are getting curious, they asked what secret I have"

Girl raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Secret? What secret?"

Lando smiles mischievously and walks closer. "That I'm the happiest I've been in years." - he says in a quiet but sincere voice.

[Y.N] smiles, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Without another word, she steps into his arms, and Lando doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close. They stand there for a moment, just the two of them, the sound of the waves crashing in the background. Lando takes a deep breath and places a kiss on her hair, pulling her even closer to him. It was the peace he had needed for a long time

FIRST CHRISMTAS: [Y.N] Lando and [Y.N] had been together for almost half a year. Their lives were filled with happiness that neither of them had ever experienced before. From the first day, they understood each other like two peas in a pod, and that's how it stayed. That's why she was surprised by how happy Lando was.

The couple in love are together in the kitchen, with the countertop in front of them strewn with flour and other ingredients for making gingerbread cookies. [Y.N] is wearing one of Lando's voluminous sweaters and humming a Christmas carol, pacing next to the countertop. Lando, on the other hand, dressed in his loose Mclaren T-shirt and Christmas pajama pants, is trying to roll out the dough, but it's not going well. His hands are covered in flour and the dough keeps sticking to the rolling pin. Well, it's easier to say that his whole body is covered in flour.

"Do you need help, chef?" - asks [Y.N], leaning against the countertop and looking at him with an amused smile.

Lando raises his gaze, feigning impatience. "It's harder than it looks, sure?" - He laughs, combing his flour-dusted hair with his hand. "I thought baking was supposed to be easy."

"It's easy, you just have some manual problems," the girl laughs and moves to his side, gently taking the rolling pin from his hands. "Here, let me," she says, guiding him to the side. Their fingers brush as she takes over, a soft, tender moment.

"Sure, my baking queen," the boy laughs, looking at her with adoration.

"You could do the icing." the girl says, pointing to the already made gingerbread cookies.

Lando's eyes brighten, his smile widening. "Icing, huh? That's sounds better." He grabs a piping bag and starts filling it, but as he attempts to pipe a simple design, it all goes horribly wrong.

“Lando!” she laughs, her eyes crinkling with amusement. The icing has spilled everywhere.

He looks down at his hands, dripping with icing. “Well, that’s not what I had in mind…” He shrugs sheepishly.

“You’re adorable when you try, you know that?” She leans in and wipes a bit of icing from his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin.

“And you’re just adorable,” he says, moving closer to her.

Lando’s hands quickly find their place on her waist, and his face is twisted into a genuine big smile. They both giggle, putting the matter of the cookies aside.

“What brought that smile again, huh?” the girl asks, touching his lips, which is also dirty with icing.

“You,” he says simply, and his voice carries a quiet sincerity that makes her heart skip a beat. "It was always you"

For a moment, they both stand in silence, the hum of the Christmas music in the background, the quiet crackling of the small fire in the corner of the livingroom adding to the coziness of the apartment. It’s a peaceful stillness, the kind that only exists between two people who’ve found something real.

A/N: i know it's no nut november and this should be smut but i swear when i had a vision i had to write this. i hope you like it because i won't lie, i fucking love it!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

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gh0stsp1d3r · 6 months ago

Text

I’m your god

cw: religious imagery, questioning of God, sex in church bathroom, p in v, you call church bullshit, a lot of cussing…

a/n: my kickstart to angel!reader !

You didn’t believe in God.

Not really, anyway. It was merely a facade you crafted for your parents, a delicate mask worn to maintain their “precious reputation.” This was the belief system was instilled and drilled into your head from a young age, a doctrine you were taught to never question. At the age of eight, a flicker of doubt ignited within you, yet you chose to play the part of your parents’ “darling little girl”, continuing the charade.

Inside your twisted little head, Rafe was your God. And you were his little angel. His servant. His devotee. His. Only his.

As you stepped into the church, the scent of polished wood and old hymnals enveloped you. You plastered on a wide, false smile while you held the oak door open with an exaggerated flourish for the congregation streaming in.

The warm chatter of familiar faces filled the air. The pastor, had asked you personally, recognizing your family's long-standing bond with the church, to do this job. Hold open the doors and greet the people coming in, hand them flyers, it was easy enough.

Your parents, with their insistent nudges and pointed looks, had driven you to take on this role, leaving you feeling like a puppet on a string. So, you resigned yourself to the expectation, reminding yourself to embody the good girl everyone admired—even if the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Your smile faltered when you caught notice of him. The last person you expected Rafe Cameron was in a church. He smiled at you, you smiling back.

“Hey, sweetie!” Ward greeted you, stepping aside to wrap his arms around you. Rafe also stepped aside, his hands in his pockets as he watched you hug his father.

“Hey, Mr. Cameron!” You spoke, offering a smile to your boyfriend who was behind Ward. He pulled away, you giving Rafe a hug next, before giving him a small, seemingly innocent and cute kiss on his cheek.

You and Rafe locked eyes for a moment, before Ward interrupted.

“Why don’t you go on ahead, Rafe?” Ward spoke, waving his hand. Rafe’s smile fell, nodding along, before walking away to the rest of his family.

“You know, I really feel the need to express my gratitude to you,” he said. “I think you’re truly making a difference in his life. He actually asked to join us for church this morning,” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, can you believe it? That hasn’t happened in years!” A broad smile spread across his face as he glanced at you, you nodding in agreement.

“God will do that to you.” You replied, and god, You were too good at this. He so fucking believed that. “I’m so glad, Mr. Cameron.” You smiled at him sweetly, him patting your shoulder before walking to the rest of his family.

As the service started, the air felt heavy with incense and the rhythmic cadence of the pastor’s voice drifted over the congregation.

Your gaze flickered to the side, where Rafe loomed in your vision. He stood in the shadows, his eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if you were a fragile deer caught in the predatory gaze of a wolf. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, while the rest of his family sat beside him, oblivious to the charged tension that crackled between the both of you.

Your gaze kept drifting back to him, that undeniable pull drawing your attention. Suddenly, a vibration from your phone in your lap broke your attention. You quickly shifted the device to your side, careful to shield it from your parents, and stole a glance at the screen. You looked at the message, excitement flowing through you at the words.

rafe ! 🫶

bathroom.

You cast one final glance at him, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your chest. As you rose from your chair, you gently smoothed the fabric of your dress, ensuring every wrinkle was gone before you stepped away. Leaning toward your parents, you whispered you were going to the bathroom. They merely waved you off, their expressions full of indifference.

You swung open the doors that led into the narrow hallway where the bathroom door was slightly ajar. You leaned against the cool wall, your heart racing as you waited for him. When you heard the door open, your eyes went to him, noting the way he darted his gaze around, taking in his surroundings and making sure no one else was around. Finally, he made his way toward you, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans.

You got on the tips of your toes to plant a kiss on his lips, his mouth moving against yours. He let out a quiet groan when you put your tongue into his mouth, his hands traveling your body. He put his hands on yours ass, gently patting it. You jumped up, him holding you as he walked backwards intro the bathroom, locking it behind him.

“Oh, fuck.” You breathed out, your back hitting the cold tile wall. His hands fiddled with his belt buckle, pulling it down and his pants pooled to the floor. He bunched your little white dress up, pulling your panties to the side.

“We gotta be quick, baby. My parents-“ you started, before he cut you off with a kiss.

“Your parents can suck my dick.” He retorted, “I don’t give a fuck.” He panted out, his lips ghosting yours as he pulled his hard cock out, putting it to your entrance. The both of you panted, your breath mingling together

“Oh shit,” you cried out when he slowly slid in, his mouth moving to your neck, letting out a low chuckle, his hot breath on your neck. He left open mouth kisses on your neck, gliding his tongue and his teeth over your soft skin.

“Rafe.” You cried out when he continued to slide into your warm, velvety walls. He was so deep, yet half of him wasn’t even inside of you.

“I’m barely even in, angel.” He spoke mockingly, you could feel the grin he had on his face. He looked up, moving away from your neck.

“And you know you have to be quiet. Wouldn’t want your precious little parents to find you here, watching you get fucked by your ‘sweet, cute, little boyfriend.’”

You nodded, hiding your own face in his shoulder, wrapping your arms tighter around him. You looked almost like a koala hugging a tree branch.

He breathed out as he pulled out of you, before his hips bucked back into your warmth. You let out a cry, your hands bunching up the shirt he had on, tears falling onto it.

You could already hear your pastors voice ringing in your head. Don’t fall a victim to lust, but you couldn’t find yourself to care when Rafes hands were sliding down your thighs and his slender fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in circles.

“Oh god, oh my god.” you cried out.

“I’m your god, baby. Say it. Say I’m your god.” He spoke breathily.

“You’re-“ you were cut off by a particularly hard thrust.

“Say it.” He repeated.

“You’re my god!” You spoke while you came, hiding your face into his neck.

He grinned once again, his hips slowing for a moment, before he shot his seed into you, painting your walls. He groaned out, the both of you relishing in the after. You moved your legs from his waist, and stood up on wobbly legs.

He smoothed out your dress, pulling your panties to the side for you, collecting the mixes of both of you on his finger, before shoving his finger into your mouth.

You grabbed his wrist, letting out a moan on his digit as you swirled your tongue around it. He removed his finger from your mouth with a ‘pop’, and a sick smirk made its way onto his face.

“How’d you even keep me up for that long?” You asked with a giggle, wiping the remnants of the liquid from your lips.

He flexed his muscles with a smirk, you rolling your eyes and giggling at him. “It’s what I work out for.”

Your smile fell when you looked down at the Apple Watch on your wrist, grimacing now.

“What?”

“We’ve been gone for like 10 minutes, ray!”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Who cares? Just say you got your period or some shit.”

“What about you?” You asked him with a pout, leaning closer into the mirror, fixing your makeup and hair, looking at him through the reflection.

“I’ll say I couldn’t help myself and was having sex with my super sexy girlfriend.” He replied, leaning against the wall, staring at you from the mirror.

“Rafe!” Your cheeks warmed up at his dirty words, him smiling.

He laughed, “Nah, nah, I’ll just say I ran into some old lady and helped her or something. I don’t know.”

You let out a soft sigh, amusement dancing across your features as you turned to face him. Your lips formed a small, sad pout as you gazed up into his eyes.

“I don’t wanna go back,” you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. As if sensing your reluctance, his hands found their way to your waist, drawing you in closer, enveloping you in his warmth. “Everything they say is bullshit, anyways,” you continued.

“Then don’t.” He replied, as if it was that easy.

“I have to.” You let out a weary sigh. You leaned in closer to the boy, pressing your lips softly against his in a gentle kiss that. As you pulled away, your fingers brushed the warmth of his skin before dropping to the cool metal of the doorknob.

“Well, I’m gonna go Toppers' party later, if you want to come.” he said casually. You turned to look at him, your expression curious as you met his gaze over your shoulder. "How about I swing by and pick you up?”

“Sounds good.” You beamed, him moving to your side to kiss you one more time.

“Love you, sweetheart.” He told you, patting your ass once more when you opened the door. You giggling and rolling your eyes at him.

“Love you too, ray. See you.” You blew him a kiss over your shoulder as you left, him smirking to himself, running a hand through his now messy hair, and looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“Damn.” He mumbled, pulling his collar down to look at the marks your lipstick had left from when you kissed his neck, smiling and shaking his head to himself as he pulled it up higher.

With every sinful act you committed, you dug a hole deeper and deeper into hell. You couldn’t find yourself to care, because Rafe was there right next to you, shovel in hand.

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dreamdragonkadia · 1 month ago

Note

Could you pleasee write something about Xaden Riorson cause I just love that men and I love your writing💕

I saw this and immediately said, “Okay—but what kind of drama can we stir up with it?” So here we are. Thank you so much for your support. I promise there’s plenty more Xaden where that came from. x.riorson x tauri!reader Part Two

Was it a secret that the Princess of Navarre was spoiled?

Gods, no. Everyone knew it. The kingdom whispered it like a warning and a prayer, that the youngest of the first-borns, the only current Crown Princess, had everything handed to her on a gilded plate. Silk gowns, jeweled hairpins, tutors flown in from the capital and beyond.

But Cam—Cam was the only one you really got along with. The only one who saw an older sister.

And he was the one who told you the news. Who—offhandedly, as if it was just some political footnote—mentioned that your father was trying to marry you off to the King of Deverelli. ‘In good faith’ apparently.

So yes, you ran. Slipped through the palace halls like a shadow, packed only what you could carry, cut your hair to your shoulders with the same blade that now rested on your thigh.

And no one stopped you. Because no one suspected a thing.

To the kingdom, the Crown Princess didn’t vanish into the night—she fell “gravely ill,” too weak to be seen. Bedridden. A tragic occurrence in the aftermath of Prince Alic’s death. Oh, the royal family was surely cursed. Poor Crown Prince Halden. First his twin slain, now his twin sister withering away behind silk-curtained windows. The gossip was delicious.

But the truth?

You had slipped into the Riders Quadrant under a false name, a year older than the rest of your year, blending in with a cohort of freshbloods too busy trying to survive to ask many questions.

The leathers chafed at first. The hair against your neck felt foreign without its silk ribbons. But the sword on your hip? The dagger tucked into your boot? Those felt right.

And when your Red Swordtail picked you—when she looked at you and chose you—you knew you’d never go back. Not willingly.

Especially not when Xaden Riorson started looking at you like he saw straight through every layer of disguise.

Not even when you started looking back.

Because if the kingdom ever found out that their precious Crown Princess wasn’t just alive and well but fraternizing with the great betrayer’s son?

It would be the kind of scandal that topples monarchies.

But no one knew. Not even Xaden. Not really.

You hadn’t told a soul your real name. Not the other riders. Not your squad. Not the boy whose shadows curled too close whenever you got too hurt.

Only your dragon knew. She’d seen it all—your grief, your fear, your fury. And she'd kept your secrets with a glint in her eye that promised she'd burn the whole kingdom down before she'd ever let them take you back.

And Xaden?

It really hadn’t been that hard to fall for him.

Not when he spent your first month pretending he didn’t care whether you lived or died—as long as you didn’t drag the rest of the squad down with you.

Not when he coldly pointed out your weaknesses in front of everyone like he was reading a report.

Not when he muttered corrections under his breath during sparring drills, like he couldn’t help himself.

Gods, he was infuriating. And he was right.

Because that’s the thing—Xaden Riorson never wasted time. Not on pleasantries, not on weakness.

So when he started pulling you aside after hours, correcting your stance, showing you how to angle your weight to drive a blade home—

When he didn’t stop you from collapsing on the training mats but crouched beside you afterward, voice low and shadow-laced, saying, “Get up. You’re not done yet.”

That was when you knew.

Because Xaden didn’t waste time on things he didn’t think would survive. And he sure as hell didn’t teach people how to win unless he wanted them alive.

Which meant he wanted you alive.

And for the longest time, you didn’t know why.

Not until you started catching his gaze every time you won a challenge. The way his eyes lingered just a second too long—not impressed, but watching, like he was cataloging every move you made. Like he was memorizing you. Every strength you tried to hide, every weakness you refused to let show.

He never said anything. Never praised you. But his silence wasn’t the kind that dismissed—it was the kind that noticed.

Not until you started seeking him out on purpose. Going out of your way to say good morning, even when he rarely answered. Just to see if you could make him crack the smallest smile. And maybe once or twice, when no one else was looking, you did.

Not until you stopped flinching at the marks inked across everyone’s skin. Stopped pretending you didn’t know what they meant.

Even though you never understood—never could understand—how killing their parents was supposed to prove anything.

Because somewhere in the middle of all that distance and danger, something shifted.

It was in the way his voice changed when he spoke to you—still pointed, but no longer cruel. In the way his shadows hovered just a little closer after you got tossed during sparring, flickering against your wrist like they were checking for broken bones.

It was in the quiet between drills, when he stood closer than necessary. When his gaze dropped—not to assess, but to see.

Not until you found yourself backed against the cold stone of a shadow-laced hallway, breath catching as the air thickened around you.

He wasn’t touching you. Not yet. But his eyes were molten and unreadable, like he was waging a war inside himself and losing fast.

Then his mouth was on yours—rough and desperate and so careful, like he wasn’t sure he deserved this, but needed it all the same.

He kissed you like he was trying to breathe. Like he’d been holding his breath for months. Like you were the first thing that ever felt real.

And you kissed him back like you’d been waiting your whole life to be chosen—not for your crown or your name, but for you. For the girl who’d carved herself out of ashes and made a new name fit like armor.

He didn’t know your secrets. Didn’t know your bloodline or your history.

But he saw you. All of you.

And wanted you all the same.

And for a while, it had been perfect.

Not easy. Not gentle. But real—raw in a way that left you breathless and aching and desperate for more.

It started small. Stolen glances across the sparring mats. A hand on your back that lingered half a second too long. Shadows curling like smoke around your ankles when you were too still, too silent, too far away.

But then came the other things. The quiet things.

Xaden Riorson loved chocolate.

Like—actually loved it. Not just tolerated it, but hoarded it. Would trade for it in secret. Smuggled pieces back to you like it was contraband. You’d caught him once, sitting on the edge of your bed with a napkin-wrapped square of dark chocolate and a completely unbothered expression.

“What?” he said, when you stared. “I’m a grown man with stress. Let me have this.”

You learned that he slept with one arm thrown over his face, like he hated being vulnerable even in dreams. That he wasn’t a fan of the cold but would always give you his jacket without comment. That he preferred old books with cracked spines and spent hours sketching things he never let anyone else see—battle formations, dragons in flight, once even you when he thought you weren’t looking.

And gods, the way he touched you—always with control, always with intent. As if he didn’t want to want you, but couldn’t help it anymore.

He never pushed. Never took. Always asked.

But once you gave—once you pulled him in and whispered yes—He was devastating.

All rough hands and low groans, reverent kisses pressed to the hollow of your throat, like he couldn’t believe you were his. Like he needed to prove it with every touch.

And afterward, when you curled beneath the sheets and felt his shadows wrap around the both of you like smoke and silk, he would rest his forehead against yours and whisper things he’d never admit in daylight. Things like you scare the shit out of me and you make me forget I’m supposed to be careful.

Your dragons adjusted without a word. Red and Blue falling into step like they’d always flown together. As if they understood something binding had tethered their riders together.

And it was binding. Because he let you in. Let you see the boy beneath the shadows, the one who still mourned his father, who still carried the weight of a rebellion like it was stitched into his bones. And you—gods, you let yourself be seen. Fully. For the first time.

You weren’t a crown. You weren’t a name. You were just a girl, and he was just a boy who kissed you like you were his last chance at peace.

You should’ve known it couldn’t last.

Should’ve known the world would come clawing for you eventually.

It nearly unraveled when General Lilith’s daughter entered the quadrant. You hadn’t seen her in years—not since she was shoving Halden at court functions when no one was watching. Not since she caught you sneaking pastries and promised to keep your secret if you shared.

Her eyes landed on you like she was trying to solve a riddle she didn’t remember writing. But she never said anything. Just blinked.

Told herself the Crown Princess of Navarre was still bedridden. Still fading.

And your secret stayed safe.

For one more year.

Until Cam crossed the bridge and stepped into your room like the ghost of your past had come to life.

You didn’t even have time to speak before he was pulling you into his arms—arms that had grown stronger, taller, older while you’d been gone—and sobbing into your shoulder.

“Oh my gods,” he whispered, over and over again. “You’re not dead. You’re not dead.”

Your throat burned. “I tried to write,” you said, your voice cracking. “I couldn’t risk it. I’m sorry—I had to disappear. They were going to sell me off like a treaty, Cam. I had to go.”

“I thought I lost you too,” he choked out. “I thought I was alone.”

You buried your face into his shoulder then, shaking. Because even after everything—after all the lies, all the nights you cried yourself to sleep trying to remember how your real name sounded—this still felt like home.

But peace never lasted long.

Not in your life.

When Xaden arrived that weekend—under the pretense of Sgaeyl and Tairn needing a mandatory reunification flight—there was something about a book. Something about needing Cam’s help getting part of it. Something that should’ve been normal.

But then Cam’s eyes flicked to where Xaden stood beside you—where his hand had casually settled on your back, familiar, comfortable, intimate.

And something in Cam snapped.

His whole body went still. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

Cam’s voice was low, rough. “That’s him?”

You turned, your stomach lurching.

“That’s your little lover?” he hissed. “He’s the reason Alic is dead.”

The words hit like a blade between the ribs.

You froze.

And then Xaden—calm, cold, and unaware of the landmine he’d just stepped on—said, “Your brother was a craven, murderous prick.”

The air left your lungs.

Even if a part of you knew it was true—even if you’d known, in the quiet places of your mind, what Alic had become in the end—he was still your brother. And the truth still hurt.

“You…” The word stuck in your throat. “You killed my brother?”

Xaden blinked.

And that was when everything broke.

Violet watching you both like she was watching puzzle pieces slot into place, suddenly inhaled like she’d been struck.

“Oh my gods,” she whispered, wide-eyed. “You’re the crown princess.”

It felt like the entire hallway tilted.

The silence that followed wasn’t silent at all—it rang.

You didn’t wait.

Didn’t think.

You just ran.

Stormed down the corridor, every step echoing like a scream, barely holding yourself together. Your vision blurred with tears you refused to let fall. Your breath hitched as you reached out with everything—

“Please, come get me,” you whispered through your bond. To your dragon. Your constant. The only one who could carry you far enough away from this moment. “Please, I need you.”

But before you could reach the doors, footsteps thundered behind you. And then his hand—familiar, warm, calloused—closed around your arm.

“Wait—” Xaden’s voice cracked.

You turned.

And gods, he looked as wrecked as you felt.

Like someone had carved him open. Like he didn’t know whether to pull you close or fall apart entirely.

“You never told me,” he said, like it physically hurt. “You—gods, you never told me.”

“I know,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I know.”

His grip loosened, like he couldn’t bear to hold you if you didn’t want him to—but couldn’t let go, either.

You shook your head, blinking fast. “I can’t. Not right now.”

His eyes searched yours, desperate. “Just—tell me why. Tell me it wasn’t all a lie.”

And you almost broke then. Almost told him everything—about your father, the arranged marriage, the masks and how hard it had been to breathe before you met him.

But your heart was already splintering.

“I can’t talk about this,” you said, voice raw. “About Alic. About you killing him, and why, or what your reasoning was. I can’t do this now.”

He flinched. But he nodded.

And you—gods, you swallowed the sob threatening to rise as you stepped back.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” you said, barely audible. “I just—I need to breathe.”

Because at the end of the day, even after all of it—

You still loved him.

Were in love with him.

And that made everything hurt so much worse.

#✨️by yours truly✨️#fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #the empyrean #the empyrean series #fw #fw x reader #xaden riorson fanfic #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #listening to the studio ghibli soundtrack for this one

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cookiieduh · 27 days ago

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ʙᴏʏꜰɪᴇ!ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ༉ 𝓒𝓦: ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ʜᴇ’ꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ, ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴇᴀɴ ʙꜰ ᴀʟᴇʀᴛ, 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ᴀ ʜɪɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀᴄʀʏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘꜱ.

BF.ᐟsatoru who always finds a way to tease you, even if it's just a little. Seemingly subtle, inconspicuous little comments about how your hair’s a mess or how the clothes you chose to wear that day don’t match, always spoken so smoothly you barely notice. Seconds pass, you realise what he’s said, and by the time you’re snapping your head up to glare, he’s already smirking.

BF.ᐟsatoru who intentionally acts dumb whenever you try to confront him, to get under you’re skin at the very least. The leftovers you were saving? What leftovers? He swears he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, and he’ll gaslight you into thinking you’re crazy. Over the stupidest shit, too. Who left the TV remote where, if the toothpaste is actually finished, if it's Tuesday or Wednesday... He takes great delight in making you feel like you're losing it.

BF.ᐟsatoru who locks in when watching movies and psychoanalyses them to the point of exhaustion straight after. Want to ask him something while the film is playing? Fat chance. He’ll nod subtly with his eyes glued to the screen, barely pretending to listen—but as soon as the credits roll, he’ll turn to you and begin with a “so…” marking the start of whatever pseudo-analytical torture your boyfriend is about to subject you to.

BF.ᐟsatoru whose favourite pastime is scaring you half to death. Trust that he’s going to abuse his teleportation technique to get a quick laugh from how badly it makes you jump. You’re convinced his antics are going to drive you straight into a coffin far quicker than any high-calibre mission you’d ever faced.

BF.ᐟsatoru who swears he doesn't get jealous or possessive when he catches people staring, but will pull out the classic 'waist-grab' move to guide you away from shameless ogling and prying eyes while glaring back at whoever was leering. It's rinse and repeat whenever he notices you're getting a little too much attention for his liking.

BF.ᐟsatoru who secretly adores the quiet moments when you don't realise he's looking. He uses the chance to take everything in; the way you pout slightly when scrolling on your phone, the way you sway your hips and bounce your shoulders when you've got your headphones on. Lord knows he's memorising every detail, storing it deep inside his heart, where he'll keep it there forever.

BF.ᐟsatoru who loves overstimulating you to the point of tears, drilling you into the mattress with no tap-outs, no reprieve. He'd change his rhythm each time you were about to come, going from hard and fast thrusts to slow and deep strokes. When he finally lets you reach the pinnacle of pleasure, the relief you feel is short-lived when you realise it's far from over. Satoru's relentless, plunging in and out of your velvet heat, taking a special kind of joy in the way your mouth hangs open when the sensations become too much.

BF.ᐟsatoru who presses kisses against each droplet that rolls down your cheeks, hushing you with patronising coos of, "isn't this what you, hah, wanted baby? you were just begging me to let you come, and now you're giving out on me?" he'd pout down at you, arms braced around your head while fighting to keep his composure as he taunts you. "C'mon, sweetheart. I know you can be a big girl and give me just one more."

#᧔ෆ᧓ ᴠᴀʟ’ꜱ ᴘᴇɴ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x you smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo fluff #gojo headcanons #jjk fluff #fluff #smut

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200markies · 6 months ago

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　　　　jeno ♡ is the type of boyfriend to ... ⁺

jeno soft hours & headcanons. all are fictional.

pairing: lee jeno x fem!reader

genre: romance, fluff

result from the poll i gave (it's now deleted haha sorry)

author's notes: i made a poll on my main blog like around 3 weeks ago (i deleted it bc im transforming my main blog into something) and i saw that you guys chose jeno over renjun for a boyfriend soft hours headcanon. and well lo and behold, i will bring it to you as requested! i know you guys definitely liked my chenle and jisung headcanons (let's face it, i literally still get bombarded with a bunch of notifs saying you guys r still reblogging and liking my posts AND I WON'T COMPLAIN!) sooo i'll continue this entire thing since this is now probably a 7dream series. i hope this filled up your delusions AND. i hope y'all like this as much as you guys liked my jisung and chenle headcanons :>>

p.s i hope this is an accurate depiction of how i think jeno would be as a boyfriend.........

i am always open 4 requests, and my ask inbox is open so go ahead and request or ask me anything ! i'm always happy to answer each and every message <3

jeno is the type of boyfriend to act all whiny and pouty when you don't give him full attention for at least a second. he wants you to give him attention without any breaks. the moment you let go of him or the moment he finds himself no longer in your arms when he wakes up, he'll start whining and pouting for you to come back.

"wait, let me get something─" as you were about to get up to get something from your cabinet, jeno cuts you off by whining and gripping you tightly to keep you from getting up. you turn around to him, his pout becoming visible already as a sign that he doesn't want to let go of your arms just yet. "but.. baby... can't you stay here first with me? am i not deserving of your attention?"

jeno is the type of boyfriend to follow you almost everywhere you go. not in like a stalking way though, but in a way where he truly wants to go with you on anything you plan to travel or drive to. whether it's a gala with your friends, or something personal yourself. he just doesn't want to be alone and wants to join you almost everytime.

"baby, i'll attend a birthday party on saturday with my friends." you say softly to jeno in front of you, writing down the event on your calendar. you could feel his little stare at you when you said that, with a little nod which you knew that it meant he'll ask you again if he could come. you sigh playfully, rolling your eyes at him as you knew that he'll ask you any minute. "you know the drill.... can i come?"

jeno is the type of boyfriend to sulk and playfully fight you when you say something that doesn't fit the conversation. if, for example, you don't answer his question, he'll immediately sulk and fight you as if he hates you, literally! but, you know all the time he's joking by how cute he is when he fights you. and, even if he fights you playfully a million times, he'll always accept your apologies.

"baby, do you like my suit?" jeno asks, coming out of the fitting room in a tailor shop to see if his suit looks good for his occasion tomorrow. you were still talking about your anniversary plans together, which immediately made jeno sulk as you ignored his question. "heeey, you ignored my question!" he starts whining, sulking while putting up a cute angry expression. he goes to you and smacks you playfully, fighting you just because you ignored his question. "i'm sorry─ i'm sorry!" you start apologising while jeno kept smacking you, still sulking. "you didn't answer my question! do you like my suit?" he asks again, in which you nodded and gave him a little kiss on the lips for him to stop.

jeno is the type of boyfriend to send you something before he goes to work. it's either he sends you an adorable selfie, or something sweet, or maybe some funny jokes to enlighten up your mood if you feel down. he tries his best to at least make you happy in the most minimal way possible─ and it works!

"good morning, baby! hope you slept well. gonna head to work nowww, see you later my love! i love you pretty girl :>" jeno sends the message to you, hoping that you can read it now that you're probably awake. you were on your bed, looking at the notification on your lockscreen. you type out a response, saying, "hi cutie ! i did sleep well, good morning <3 i'll see you later! ilym" and pressed send with a giggle.

©️ 200markies / jyanihaes, 2024

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wroetominter · 6 months ago

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Platform Roulette - George Clarke

In which George and Y/n are good friends, and she tags along for a platform roulette video.

Pairing: George x Fem Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

"And today, we have a special guest appearance, Y/n!" Arthur Hill introduced me to his video.

"Am I not also a special guest?" George questioned Arthur.

"Get out of my spotlight Clarkey" I snapped back, pushing him to the side and striking a pose in front of the camera. This earned a laugh from the two boys.

"As always, Arthur is running late, but as soon as he is here we will let him choose a number between one and ten to find out where we are going today.

As if on cue, Arthur strolled up to the group. "Hello everyone!" He said excitedly.

"About time mate," George said. Arthur rolled his eyes at him, looking over to Hill for his question.

"You know the drill, choose a number between one and ten Arthur"

After all too much deliberation, Arthur chose 6.

"Manchester!" I exclaimed, looking at the board.

"Bloody hell, this is going to be a long trip." George commented, looking up train times.

We all shrugged, with nothing better to do and knowing that it would be fun regardless.

Making our way to the shop, we picked our beverages and some snacks for the trip, I choose a canned cocktail, a cranberry vodka and some various beers that George recommend. I had never been one for beers much, but I didn't want to just drink cocktails and get drunk before we'd even left the station.

Situating ourselves on the train, I sat on the window side next to George, across from the Arthur's. We opened our first drinks, bantering back and forth trying to make some good content for the video.

By the time we had arrived in Manchester, we were all two drinks in and I was definitely feeling some of the alcohol. Cursing the fact I was a lightweight. "George," I looked around to him, catching his attention he turned to look at me. "Please don't let me get too drunk and die" he laughed. "I'm serious. I get weird when I get drunk and I will try and run off." He nodded, saluting causing me to laugh.

"I'll make sure you don't die, but I think being weird would make Arthur happy to have good content." I shrugged, it was fair enough.

We bounced around from a few different pubs, taking a few shots and attempting to split the G, which I failed miserably at. "How the fuck do you drink this?" I questioned, pushing the drink towards George who happily accepted it from me. He grabbed the glass, downing it in just a few drinks. I stared in amazement.

"You've had what," I counted on my hands "six or seven drinks now? How are you not drunk?" I asked.

He shrugged in response. "That's what I'm saying!" ArthurTV chimed in.

"Guess I'm just better than everyone?" George smirked. I slapped his arm lightly, knowing I was well on my way to being pissed in a matter of another drop of alcohol.

Arthur Hill decided it was time to take it to the streets, wanting to find something else to do as it was nearing 7pm. We passed a few shops, nothing really catching our eyes until we found a vintage shop that Arthur Hill and I got way too excited about. With all of us walking side by side, Arthur and I decided in our nearly drunken states to race to the shop.

"Last inside pays for dinner!" I said before running off, leaving George and ArthurTV behind as Arthur Hill and I ran off.

We found a bunch of cool knickknacks, and some vintage clothes that we ended up purchasing before heading to a restaurant not far away for dinner.

Once again, Arthur began to feed us drink after drink - playing a few drinking games - mainly rock paper scissors because we had lost all creativity with the amount of alcohol we had consumed.

Deciding to call it quits, we tallied up our drinks. George had won by a landslide of course, leaving the three of us in the dust. I was just happy I had at least beat Arthur Hill.

On the way back to the train, I had noticed George was quieter than usual, not making his normal jokes and conversation with me or the boys.

"Everything alright?" I asked him, nudging him slightly as we walked next to each other.

"Yeah yeah, fine." He gave me a half smile. I felt something was off but I couldn't pin something specific that could have been upsetting.

We got onto the train, our banter dying down as we all realized how late it was, and how much we had to drink. The boys dozed off, and our cameraman for the day sat across the walkway from us, starting to filter through the footage while I mindlessly scrolled through my phone.

"Y/n," he gestured to the laptop showing me some of the footage from the day. I squinted, trying to place this exact part of the day. It was as we were walking to the vintage shop.

I watched the scene I had lived a few short hours ago, and a realization washed over me as I watched the video.

A few moments before Arthur and I were going to sprint towards the shop, George had reached down for my hand, narrowly missing it before I began to sprint off. The camera caught the accidental airing of his hand holding, and his reaction. He signed and looked towards ArthurTV. "This has to be the universe telling me to stop trying" George said.

My jaw was basically on the floor of the train car after that statement. I had to be the most oblivious person on earth.

Snapped out of my thoughts, which apparently had been happening for awhile as we were now back at kings cross. "Coming?" George asked.

I stood up, grabbing my bag and following the boys off the train.

Their flat wasn't far from mine, so we all shared an uber to theirs and I decided to walk back to mine. "Walk me home?" I asked George as we got out of the car. He nodded, following me as we started the short walk.

I looked up to him as we walked together, taking in his features. He looked handsome as always, his hair now growing out more with little curls sticking out at the back. Almost instinctively I reached down and grabbed his hand. He tensed instantly, his head snapping down to our hands now intertwined.

"I didn't mean to run away from you" I said softly. He smirked, turning his head slightly to hide the blush on his face.

“I could have just told you I wanted to hold your hand instead of being a weirdo about it, to be fair.” I laughed. We had now made it into my building.

“Or I could have told you I had a crush on you” I admitted. It felt so weird to be admitting this to one of my closest friends.

“You have a crush on me?” He gave me that signature George smirk that makes your heart flutter. We stopped at the door of my flat, and I leaned my back onto it.

“And what if I do Clarkey?” I retorted, playing into his flirtatious nature.

He didn’t say anything, putting his hands on either side of me on my door. He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine in a sweet kiss. I tangled my hands in his hair, deepening the kiss, tasting the alcohol he had consumed tonight.

Pulling back for air, I smiled at him, giving him a few more small kisses. “Come inside?” I asked, knowing where this would lead.

“Absolutely.” He followed me inside.

#george clarke #george clarkey #imagine #george clarke fluff #george clarke fics #george clarkeey #George clarkeey imagine #George clarkeey fics #arthur hill #arthurtv

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cupofteatoyou · 2 months ago

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What if she chose me pt3

You’ve been at Barça long enough now to know the drills by heart. Long enough to stop second-guessing yourself every time Jonatan calls your name. Long enough to know who’s watching you—and who’s really watching you.

Most of the team? You’re good with them.

Vicky laughs first at your dumb jokes and always asks for the playlist when you DJ warmups.

Ingrid brings you coffee when you show up looking like you got hit by a bus.

Aitana sends you playlists that are half bangers, half emotional damage.

Even Marta, usually composed and unreadable, offered you a quiet “bien jugado” last week that felt like a rare stamp of approval.

But Jana and Alexia?

They don’t warm. They burn.

Alexia only speaks to you when necessary—and every word feels like it's been dipped in frost and sharpened for efficiency.

Jana never speaks. Just watches. Just waits.

You gave up trying to win them over week ago.

You’re not here to be liked. You’re here to work. You can tolerate whatever agenda they have with you for few more months.

Still, some days? The air feels thick with everything that’s not being said.

The ball’s live, the pace is brutal, and the coaching staff is watching closely. You’re working on tight rotations—three defenders against two attackers, trying to close space before it opens.

You see the pass coming—Jana streaking up the center, Alexia closing on your right. You read it. Step forward. Just half a beat too slow.

The ball slips past your foot like it knew you were coming. Jana’s already moving. She scoops it up, cuts left, squares it to Alexia.

One touch.

Top corner.

Whistle.

“Reset,” Jonatan calls, but he doesn’t need to.

Because Alexia’s already on you.

“What was that?” she barks, walking straight toward you. “That step was pathetic. Either intercept or stay the hell out of the lane.”

You straighten, breath still high, sweat clinging to your neck. “I saw it late. My bad.”

“No shit it’s your bad,” she snaps. “You don’t see it. You feel it. If you wait for the ball to announce itself, you’re already too late.”

You nod once, trying to stay level.

But she’s not done.

“This isn’t some trial squad, alright? We’re not here to coddle learning curves. You want to keep up? Move your damn feet.”

The field goes quiet around you. Not silent—but quiet in that dangerous way. Like everyone’s waiting to see what happens next.

And then—

From the sideline, stretching out her legs with all the grace of a goblin in recovery, Mapi, loud enough to carry

“This level of tension requires preparation. I did zero.”

Laughter breaks across a few players—Aitana snorts into her bib, even Vicky chokes back a grin.

Alexia doesn’t laugh. But she stops.

Her jaw tightens. She shakes her head once like she’s brushing off a mosquito and stalks back into position.

You don’t look at Mapi. But you feel the look she gives you—quick, dry, full of mischief and mischief’s twin loyalty.

As the drill resets, she jogs up next to you and mutters

“Next time you hesitate, just scream ‘I volunteer as tribute!’ and go full chaos. If you’re going down, make it iconic.”

You huff a laugh despite yourself. It breaks some of the heat on your skin.

And when Jana passes you on her jog back to the line, she doesn’t say anything. just watching.

You’ve had a decent week.

No major screw-ups. No Alexia-level snipes.

Even Jana’s been… less icy. Not warm, not kind—but no stares that could peel paint. That counts for something.

The drills have been brutal though. Tight rotations, overlapping runs, one-vs-one marking that leaves your calves screaming and your head buzzing.

You’re mid-sprint when it happens—three sharp whistles from Jonatan. A pause. Then the call

“Bring it in!” Everyone slows—some jogging, some walking.

You grab your water and jog toward the circle forming around him.

The sun presses heavy on your back as Jonatan flips open his clipboard.

He doesn’t waste time.

“Ona’s out. Ankle’s recovering, but we’re not risking it this weekend.”

A subtle shift in the group.

People glance around. You already know what’s coming.

You’d heard the whispers. You’d seen the physio’s expression two days ago. Most of all ona has told you herself.

Still—knowing doesn’t make it easier.

“Starting at right back this weekend…” A beat.

“…Y/N.”

And just like that, the field goes quiet. Not silent—but still. Focused. Then—

Vicky whistles low. “Let’s gooo!”

Mapi yells, arms flung wide like she’s introducing you at a concert. “LET’S GO NORUEGA!”

Aitana claps—that short, precise, rhythmic kind of clap that says “hell yeah” without saying it.

You nod. Just once. Controlled. You’re not making it a moment. But next to you— You feel the shift. Jana doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t clap. But her stance changes—just slightly. Her weight rocks onto one foot. Shoulders pull tighter.

You glance her way, but she’s already looking past you. Like you’re just a space the sun fills.

Alexia, on your other side, stays completely still. No reaction. No comment. Just unreadable eyes locked somewhere beyond the pitch, like she didn’t even hear it.

But she did. You know she did.

Because when Jonatan moves on, giving reminders about press triggers and defensive lines, she turns slightly toward Jana.

And that is the real moment.

She looks at her. Just for a second. And Jana doesn’t look back.

She keeps staring forward like her jaw’s wired shut, like if she lets herself speak or blink, the whole thing will crack open.

The lineup’s been set.

Your name’s on it. And whether you wanted it or not, some of them treating it like a declaration of war.

Jonatan blows the whistle. Full-pitch scrimmage. Eleven versus eleven. Game speed. No holding back. You’re sharp early—tracking runners, holding your line, getting touches in tight spaces. But every time you’re near the ball, it feels like you’re being hunted.

Jana’s on you fast.

She presses harder than usual—shoulder checks, hip into your ribs, no space to breathe.

You shove back once. She doesn’t flinch.

Next play, she clips your ankle just enough to throw you off balance.

You stumble, catch yourself.

You don’t say anything.

Because maybe it’s not a foul. Maybe it’s just football. Maybe you’re imagining the edge to it.

Then Alexia cuts through midfield and calls for the switch. You track the play, fall back into position. You’re focused—locked in. You see the run coming, time your step, shift to intercept— And Jana’s already there.

You go shoulder to shoulder—too close, too much. Her elbow rides up, unintentionally or not, and hits you square in the ribs.

You hit the grass. Hard.

The whistle doesn’t come.

You sit up, coughing, wincing as the burn spreads under your ribs.

And then, over the thud of your own pulse, you hear it

“WHAT the hell, Jana?!”

Everyone freezes. Because that voice? That wasn’t Mapi. That wasn’t Vicky.

That was Ingrid. Loud. Sharp. Furious.

You’ve never heard her like this.

“You call that a challenge?!” she’s already stomping toward Jana. “She didn’t even have the ball.”

Jana stands over you, mouth tight, but for the first time—you see her hesitate.

Her eyes flick from you to Ingrid.

Then to the rest of the team, who have all gone dead quiet.

Alexia walks over, slow, casual—but there’s something cold in her stance.

“It’s a contact sport,” she says flatly, barely looking at Ingrid.

Ingrid turns.

And that’s when even Mapi steps in.

“Okay,” she says quickly, walking between them. “Whoa. Everybody breathe.”

But Ingrid’s not budging.

“It’s not contact,” she snaps. “It’s targeting. And I don’t care if she’s new or starting or replacing someone’s favorite—this is Barça, not some glorified grudge match.”

Mapi touches her arm. Gentle. Careful.

“Bebita…”

Ingrid doesn’t even look at her.

“Don’t ‘bebita’ me right now.”

Everyone goes still. Even Mapi’s eyes widen.

You’d never seen Ingrid look at her like that.

Like even she isn’t safe from the fallout.

You finally get to your feet, biting back the sting in your ribs.

“I’m fine,” you mutter.

No one listens.

Jonatan finally blows the whistle again. Hard.

“That’s enough. Take five.”

Everyone disperses slowly. Quietly. No chatter. No jokes.

Just space.

Mapi turns to you once Ingrid walks off. Her voice is low.

“You okay?”

You nod. She studies you. Then mutters— “Remind me never to piss off my girlfriend. Jesus.”

You exhale, hands on your hips, watching Ingrid pace toward the bench with the same energy she uses when she’s shutting down the world’s best attackers.

You can’t tell if she was defending you or defending Barça.

Maybe both. But one thing’s clear This isn’t about football anymore.

You don’t bother knocking anymore.

You stopped doing that weeks ago—somewhere between the second round of ankle sprains and the third box of cookies you dropped off “just because.” By now, Ona’s apartment might as well have a welcome mat that says come in, loser.

You nudge the door open with your foot, your arms full of whatever random snack Mapi shoved at you as a bribe-slash-offering "She’s injured. Let her eat like a raccoon."and two cans of recovery drink you grabbed out of habit.

Ona’s voice floats in from the couch before you’re even halfway through the door.

“You’re late.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I’m immobile. I get to be dramatic.”

You roll your eyes as you kick off your shoes and make your way in. The living room’s exactly as you left it two days ago—throw blanket half-off the couch, a half-zipped physio bag on the coffee table, and a tangle of athletic tape and snack wrappers in the corner like some chaotic altar to the football gods.

She’s sprawled across the couch like she’s auditioning for a very casual soap opera. One foot elevated, ankle still wrapped, hoodie two sizes too big—probably borrowed from Aitana or stolen from lost and found—and a heating pad balanced precariously across her knee.

“I brought bribes,” you announce, tossing the bag of snacks onto her lap.

“If it’s not sugar and it doesn’t crunch, I don’t want it.”

“You’re so ungrateful.”

“I’m injured,” she says, mouth already full of something chocolate-covered. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You sprained your ankle. You didn’t get exiled.”

“Same thing.”

You toss your own drink onto the rug, plop down on the floor next to her usual side of the couch, and reach for the remote. She smacks your hand away without looking.

“It’s already on.”

The TV’s playing a rerun of a La Liga match—one of those mid-table disasters where no one can finish and the camera crew looks bored.

“You’re really out here watching this voluntarily?”

“It’s either this or rewatch the 2021 Champions League final for the fiftieth time. And I’m trying not to feel powerful today.”

You laugh as you grab a cushion and settle in, back against the couch. The room smells faintly of menthol cream, warmed fabric, and that weird minty candle she always forgets to blow out.

It’s easy here.

The kind of easy that doesn’t ask for anything. Just shared space and steady breathing.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you say eventually, opening your drink.

“You say that every time.”

“And yet, I keep showing up.”

“Because I have an espresso machine and no rules.”

“No. Because your playlists are cursed and I feel bad for you.”

She gasps, half-chokes on a cookie, and throws a pillow at your head.

“My playlists are elite.”

“Your playlists have mood swings.”

“They have range.”

You dodge the second pillow, barely.

She grins, smug. You grin back, half-annoyed, fully like at home.

And for a few minutes—between the trash talking and the commercial breaks—everything feels like it’s exactly where it should be.

The match on TV drones on in the background—commentators saying a lot of words without meaning much. You and Ona sit in that familiar stretch of silence that only exists between people who don’t need to fill it.

Until she speaks.

“They still acting weird?”

You don’t ask who she means.

You know.

You keep your eyes on the bottle in your hand, rolling it back and forth across your palm.

“Weird isn’t the word,” you mutter. “More like… cold. Sharp.”

Ona hums. “Alexia?”

You nod.

“And Jana.”

She nods once, slowly. Like she expected that answer. Maybe everyone did.

“They still haven’t said anything?”

“Alexia only talks to me when it’s tactical. Like I’m an extra cone in the drill.”

“And Jana?”

You sigh.

“She doesn’t talk at all. Just stares. Like she’s waiting for me to fuck up.”

“She’s not.” You glance over. Ona shrugs.

“She already thinks you did.”

That sits heavy for a second. Because it’s true. Because the day Jonatan announced the lineup, you felt the crack in the air between you and Jana—sharp, invisible, immediate.

Like she’d drawn a new boundary in her head. One you didn’t ask to cross, but still somehow did.

“You think they hate me?”

“No,” Ona says. “I think they don’t know what to do with you.”

You blink. “What?”

She turns toward you a little, one leg still propped up under a cushion, mug nestled in her lap.

“You didn’t just show up and survive. You showed up and thrived. Fast. Too fast for people like them.”

“People like them?”

“People who were already comfortable,” she says simply. “People who don’t like being unsettled.”

You don’t reply. Not right away. Because part of you wonders if she’s right. If that’s what this is.

Not resentment. Not jealousy. Discomfort.

You’ve disrupted the balance.

And the ones who had control before—don’t anymore.

“It’s weird,” you say finally. “Feeling like you earned something and still being treated like a thief.”

Ona doesn’t argue.

She just sips her drink and leans her head back against the couch.

“You didn’t steal anything,” she says. “You were given something you worked for. If they can’t see that, it’s on them.”

A pause. Then, quieter “Let them figure themselves out. You don’t owe them comfort.”

You stare at the ceiling for a long second. Let the quiet come back. Let it settle in your bones. You don’t say thank you. You don’t need to. She already knows.

you and Ona just sit there for a while—TV still murmuring in the background, bottles slowly emptying, that easy kind of tired pressing into your limbs.

Until she shifts suddenly and looks at you.

“Okay,” she says. “So, if Alexia says something slick to you this weekend, what’s your move?”

You blink. “...what?”

“Like if she comes at you with one of those cold, condescending, Queen-of-Ice lines. What do you do?”

You pause. Think.

“Probably nod. Keep playing. Maybe mutter something under my breath when she walks away.”

Ona shakes her head with mock disappointment.

“No. Unacceptable. We’re going full unhinged this time.”

“You want me to yell at the captain mid-training?”

“Yes. Call her ‘Your Highness’ and then nutmeg her in front of everyone.”

You laugh, sharp and sudden. “Jesus, Ona.”

“She needs to be humbled.”

“You say that like I’m capable of that.”

“You are,” she says, dead serious. “I’ve seen you in tight drills. You move like vengeance in Nikes.”

You stare at her.

“That’s the nicest—and most terrifying—thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Good,” she grins. “Use it.”

You shake your head, but the tension in your chest loosens another notch.

Then—

“And if Jana tries to body you again,” Ona continues, shifting slightly on the couch, “I will limp across the pitch and throw my brace at her.”

“You’re not even cleared to jog.”

“Exactly. Imagine how unhinged I’ll look. Screaming while swinging a knee brace like a medieval weapon.”

“That’s not protection. That’s terrorism.”

“That’s loyalty.”

You laugh again, too hard this time. She grins wide, proud of herself.

“You’re insane.”

“I’m injured and bored. Let me have this.”

You lean back against the couch, shaking your head, a smile lingering on your lips despite everything.

Then she adds, quieter—but still her

“Seriously though. If they come for you, I’ve got your back. Even if I have to roll up on a scooter and swing on someone with a crutch.”

You look at her.

No teasing this time. Just gratitude.

“You’re the weirdest friend I’ve ever had.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

She nudges your shoulder with her sock-covered foot.

#woso x reader #barca femeni #woso fanfics #woso imagine #mapi leon #barca femini x reader #jana fernandez #jana fernandez x reader #alexia putellas #fcb femení #fcbfemeni #woso #ingrid engen #ona batlle

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osctwink · 23 days ago

Text

i. You and me, we got big reputations.

based on the prompt / landoscar.

part one, start:

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“This collaboration will run for the next six months. There’s going to be a photoshoot this Saturday for the sponsorship deal with Polo Ralph Lauren.”

Lando wasn’t entirely sure if he should be doing this or not, but truthfully, he never really paid full attention to what his PR manager was saying anyway. For the past half hour, the man had just been twirling a pen between his fingers, occasionally setting it down on the desk, only to pick it up again a few seconds later. It was like watching someone try to fight off boredom with the only weapon they had—office supplies.

Lando had stopped counting how long he’d been sitting in the meeting room. Two hours? Three? Who knew. All he gathered was that there was going to be a shoot—which wasn’t exactly groundbreaking news. He’d done more than enough of them to know the drill by now. Except this one… this one would include a model. And not the kind of model who also happened to be his teammate, Daniel Ricciardo.

“The concept’s a little different this time, huh?” Lando asked, lifting his gaze from the glossy table to the team standing across from him.

Charlotte nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I know, Lando. It’s a bit unusual since you’re not doing the shoot with DaniRic like you normally do. But honestly? I don’t think it’s going to be a bad thing.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. There was a quiet sort of stir in his chest—the kind that only comes from not knowing something you really want to know. Who was this model? A Vogue cover girl type? Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but he was caught off guard, mid-sip of his orange juice, when he heard the name. The name that made him choke just a little on the citrus burning down his throat.

“Oscar Piastri. Model from Australia.”

He knew, even before he looked up, that his reaction would end up as a meme somewhere. For at least a week. Maybe longer, considering the way Daniel—sitting beside him—was barely holding back a laugh. But Lando wasn’t faking it. Not even a little. It had nothing to do with the model being a guy. Gender was never the issue.

It was the name.

There was something about the name that struck something in him. Something distant, like a half-forgotten melody he couldn’t quite place. No matter how far back he dove into his memory—digging through twenty-five years of moments and half-lost days—Oscar Piastri felt like a name that mattered.

And that alone… was enough.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

“Lando Norris. Have you heard of him before?”

Oscar lifted his eyes from his phone, blinking at the sound of his manager’s voice. His back ached from sitting in the same awkward position for too long, and his feet were killing him. The catwalk training had been brutal—heels or not. Even if the sole wasn’t that high, it was still enough to make every step feel like a calculated risk. And then there was the posture. The upright, perfectly aligned posture that they insisted he keep for hours on end.

Oscar chose modeling. No one forced him into it. But sometimes—just sometimes—he wondered if it was worth the physical torture.

“I think I’ve heard the name,” he answered calmly, adjusting the way he sat. “Formula 1 driver, right?”

Mark Webber, his manager, nodded. “He’s the one you’ll be shooting with for Polo Ralph Lauren this Saturday.”

Oscar hummed a soft acknowledgment. The shoot was still days away. He had time.

“His face looks familiar, doesn’t it?” Mark added, scrolling through his phone. The man wasn’t quite old enough to be that old, but the wrinkles etched across his skin certainly said otherwise—though Oscar was self-aware enough to know he was probably just being dramatic about it.

“He looks like one of your classmates from high school. Do you remember?”

Mark turned his phone around and showed Oscar a picture. Lando Norris. The guy he’d be shooting with.

And Oscar had to admit—the man was not a disappointment.

The curls, styled into a soft mullet. The jawline, sharp and masculine. The entire face just had that effortlessly cool, dangerously attractive vibe. Honestly, Lando could’ve passed as a model if he wasn’t already driving at 300 km/h for a living. His face definitely felt familiar… but Oscar’s mind hesitated to latch onto the memory.

“I don’t really remember him,” he said, cheeks heating slightly as he glanced away. He didn’t want Mark reading too much into it. The man had a habit of jumping to conclusions.

“Wow, you’re ancient,” Mark teased with a laugh. “For someone who can’t remember their own classmates.”

Oscar only rolled his eyes and gave a sarcastic sigh, unlocking his phone to open Subway Surfers. His thumbs moved on instinct, tapping in rhythm with the running character on screen.

Still, in the background of his thoughts, a single question echoed again and again: Who the hell is Lando Norris? And why does his name feel like something he should remember?

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

“Mate, he’s actually kinda hot.”

“I know, Lan. He’s your type, right?”

“Wow. Since when do you know my type, mate?”

Laughter echoed through the apartment, bouncing off the kitchen walls and into the dining room, where Lando sat trying not to overthink things. Dinner with Max F and a couple of other friends had turned into something of a deep dive session on his upcoming modeling partner.

Thanks to Max and his impressive internet sleuthing skills, Lando finally had a face to match the name Oscar Piastri.

And honestly? He got it now. Why the guy was a model.

Oscar was tall, with that perfect balance of soft masculinity and delicate charm. His features were a little pretty, his waist was slim, and his hands—Lando noticed—were small. Almost fragile-looking. It wasn’t a weird thought, just… an observation. Probably.

“I guess I’ll wait till I meet him in person,” Lando mumbled, placing Max’s phone back on the table and focusing on his food.

Maybe—just maybe—that photoshoot on Saturday would be a little more… interesting than he’d expected.

#landoscar #lando norris #oscar piastri #ln4 #op81 #f1 #481 #formula1 #mclaren #enemies to lovers #model! oscar #f1 driver! lando #twinklaren #was hesitated to post this but whatever

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backtothefanfiction · 29 days ago

Text

No One Like You | Manny Alvarez Imagine

Summary: He always just wanted to be a good soldier and survive… until he met you.

Warnings: 16+, show typical violence, angst, fluff, reader insert, complicated relationship, a little trauma, spoilers for Season 2 Episode 2 if you still haven’t watched it

Word Count: 3.3k+

A/N: I’m still not fully sure I’m happy with where I’ve ended this but I wanted to keep the ending ambiguous. Do they stay together? Don’t they? Maybe one day I’ll decide and write more but for now, that’s entirely up to you.

Be a good soldier. Follow orders. Be a part of the team- and you might just survive. Those were the only things that had been drilled into his head since this all started. And it was going well for him too. The only thing that ever made him contemplate straying from those three easy steps was you.

You were a great shot, easy on eyes (even in your 3 day old uniform all dirty and sweaty from hunting down infected) and you always had his back.

His heart rate would always pick up when he found you were out on rotation with each other. He should have reported it to his superiors. Told them he struggled to look out for the whole team evenly when you were around. That it made him a liability. But he didn’t.

It was just a crush, nothing serious. It’d pass within a month, he told himself. But it didn’t.

“Yo Manny?” You said getting his attention, “You okay there?” You asked. He had been staring off into space again.

You were both on break, taking a moment to chill out on the top floor of the training building.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said coldly, trying to get you off his back. You knew it was an act. The ‘I’m a tough guy, I don’t have feelings’ act. But you knew there was more to him than that. Seen the few times he’d hesitated on mission. Seen the way he stared at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

“You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” you asked him.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he affirmed, but you knew from the way he shuffled in his seat there was something eating away at him.

“Okay then,” you sassed him lightly as you moved your attention back out to the view, but you could sense him bristling out the corner of your eye- he was clearly stewing about something.

“Do you ever question it?” he suddenly asked, his voice low so no one else would hear you, but the only other Fireflies that were up here were way on the other side of the room to you both.

“What?” You asked, turning to him intrigued.

“All this,” he said, faintly gesturing to your surroundings and the other people in the room. “What we do?”

“Having second thoughts about what side you chose?” You asked him.

“No!” he said adamantly. “I just…” his voice faltered as he struggled to put his thoughts into the world. “I know this is better than being in the QZ,” he said.

“But?” You asked him, dragging out the word as you encouraged him to continue.

“What if there’s another way of living? Away from all this,” he said as your eyes narrowed on him.

You never would have put him down as a thinker like this. He had always been so assured of himself as a soldier. A survivor.

“A way to actually live?” he questioned hopefully.

“Isn’t that what we’re fighting for?” you asked him.

He looked around at the fellow rebels that surrounded us. Fellow soldiers just following orders for self elected higher ups with a vision that was still fully unclear. “I think I’m just fighting for the sake of fighting,” he finally replied. “Because it’s all I’ve ever done. I was just a kid when all this started. My parents didn’t even survive day 1. I was all on my own. I was 8 years old. I learnt pretty quickly how to fight and fend for myself. I don’t think I’ve ever really stopped,” he confessed.

“Do you want to?” You asked, intrigued by this new vulnerable side he was showing you.

“I don’t know,” he replied before he hesitated, his eyes raking up and down the full length of your body, from your pulled back hair all the way down to your boots as he seemed to be making a decision. “But it would be nice to have the option to decide,” he finally said and you sighed.

“Y/N,” a rookie called out to you as you were both leaving the room to go back out on patrol. “Doc wants you downstairs for some tests,” she said.

“What sort of tests?” Manny asked for you, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“I don’t know, just routine ones I guess. All the women are getting tests done,” she informed.

“You too?” he asked.

“I guess so,” she replied. “I mean I haven’t been asked yet but I’m new so my name’s probably near the bottom of the roster.”

“Okay,” you agreed steadily, but you couldn’t deny the small dose of fear that flooded your veins. Tests usually meant needles- and you fucking hated needles. “Tell them I’ll be down in a minute,” you said and the younger recruit nodded before beginning her descent back down to the labs.

“What do you think it’s for?” Manny asked as you both began to slowly follow the recruit down at your own pace.

“Who knows? Probably just some routine health check,” you said optimistically.

“Then why isn’t everyone getting called in?” Manny asked skeptically.

“Maybe they will. Maybe they’re doing it this way to spice it up. They’ll probably go through all the men next week or something,” you replied.

“You want me to wait for you?” he asked when you both landed on the floor that held the labs.

“Nah, who knows how long this is gonna take. You guys go without me,” you said, encouraging him to go back down to the barracks without you.

“I’ll see you later though, yeah?” he said, already two steps down the next flight of stairs.

“Dinner at 7?” you joked as if it wasn’t at the same time every day. “Wouldn’t miss it,” you said, shooting him a smile and he quickly shot you one back before he hit the bottom step and pivoted to move down the next ones.

Little did he know, he wouldn’t see you again at 7. He wouldn’t see you at all. After that afternoon you just disappeared like you hadn’t existed at all.

When he asked his superiors about you, they pretended like they didn’t know. Maybe they had found part of the cordyceps in your system and had to put you down. Maybe they transferred you out to another branch of the rebellion. Maybe you had heard his words and just run off. Who knew? He certainly didn’t. And he doubted he’d ever get an answer either.

Without you around he became jaded. You were the only person who made him feel hope for something more. So when that Joel guy came along a few days later and massacred the majority of the fireflies in the building, he had nothing left to lose when Abby asked him to go with her to track him down. After all, it’s what he did best right. Working as a team. Following orders. Killing things. That’s all this life could ever be if he wanted to survive. And he wanted to survive.

It was a long journey. For ages they felt like they were going in circles, looking for any sign or evidence of where this Joel guy went. It felt like the blind leading the blind. They searched and they hunted. They took down infected and did anything and everything to find this Joel guy.

It took years, but eventually they did.

Abby was mostly mad by the time they all found him. She was so lucky he just fell into her lap the way he did. There was something twisted knowing he had just saved her life for her to take his, but at the end of the day, that was the mission and Manny was a good soldier if nothing else.

They left before anyone else could find them, headed back west towards Seattle. They had found a new group of rebels that way, a new group to join. After all, there was strength in numbers.

It wasn’t too long a journey, but with the snow storm they needed to find a place to rest again until it all blew over. They thought the town was deserted. There was no one on the streets. That’s because they were all bunkered down together in the old school.

He wasn’t sure who had started to fire first, all he knew was that he’d already killed three people. It was just instinct at this point, shoot first and ask questions later. Protect your team, no matter the cost.

It was a fire fight through the halls, the group of them slowly pushing the civilians back- but one of them stood out amongst the rest. He couldn’t get a good look at her, but she was clearly a good shot and was taking point on their defence. He could just about make out her voice over the sounds of gun fire. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

“I’m going after the leader,” he informed Nora who was taking cover in a doorway across from him. She gave him a brief nod, providing him a small amount of cover as he quickly began to move down the hall.

“STOP SHOOTING!” the familiar woman’s voice suddenly shouted. “STOP SHOOTING!” she cried again before she boldly stepped forward from her hiding place.

“DON’T SHOOT!” she called out as she walked out with her hands raised into the middle of the hall and Manny froze. He felt like he was seeing a ghost.

“Y/N?” he asked tentatively, his weapon still aimed at you defensively but you didn’t show fear.

You both heard the clicking sound of a bullet being moved into the chamber of a gun behind him.

“DON’T SHOOT!” he quickly turned and shouted as he spotted both Abby and Nora stood a few paces behind him with their weapons raised. “Don’t shoot,” he said again, his weapon lowering as he turned back to take you in.

It had been so long. He thought you were dead.

“Who is this man? Who are they?” A gruff older voice came from behind you as a man in a red flannel and braces stepped into the hallway behind you.

“They’re okay,” you quickly told him, “I know him. He’s an old friend,” you said, your eyes turning back to Manny fondly. “I mean, we are okay right? We can talk this out like adults,” you almost pleaded as you searched his eyes for just a hint of the man you knew he had been deep down.

He knew the rest of his team wouldn’t understand. Knew he would have to do all he could to keep them from doing any more damage, but you were here- standing right in front of him- alive and well and thriving and he had to know. Needed to know what had happened to you. How you had ended up here? Why you left him without even a word.

“Yes,” he said with a nod.

“Give us your weapons as assurance,” the older guy said and Manny willingly dropped his weapon for the first time in 20 years.

Reluctantly the others at his back did the same, sliding their weapons across the floor with their feet so the old guy could collects them.

“Can we take shelter from the the storm with you?” Manny asked you as you stepped closer to him.

You gave him a nod, “But your friends have to mind their manners,” you informed him.

He gave you a small nod before turning back to the rest of his team, ushering them forward to follow the other guys at your back towards the gymnasium where everyone else was hunkered down with food and blankets.

You could feel him hesitate in the doorway at your back before he reached out his hand for your arm.

“We need to talk,” he said lowly into your ear, his eyes scanning the full length and width of the room behind you. You quickly did the same before you gave him a silent nod and began to guide him back in the other direction towards one of the open science labs.

When you were both inside you closed the door, not wanting anyone else to be privy to this particular conversation.

“What happened to you?” he immediately asked racing forward to crowd your space. He was still as good looking as ever- even if his curls had grown out a bit more and were now getting into his eyes where they’d been on the road so long. “I tried to ask, I was so worried. They made me think that you were dead,” he said frantically.

You hesitated, unsure of how to tell him what had happened that day. What had happened to you in the days after. You had been relegated from loyal soldier to prime test subject in a matter of hours. They knew that girl was headed there. Knew there was a living human being who was immune.

“It wasn’t just a routine check up,” you told him, your eyes growing sad at the memory. “They were looking for prime candidates to test their little vaccine on when it came in,”

“What vaccine?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“There was a girl. She was found by one of the fireflies out in Boston. She was immune Manny. That guy who came and killed everyone. He did it because of her.”

Manny continued to frown as he processed that information. Usually when he thought like this he liked to pace a little, it helped him focus, but he didn’t want to stop looking at you for even a single second now he knew you were here and alive.

“Manny, they injected me with some of her blood,” you said earnestly, holding his gaze. He was the first person you had ever told this. It had been eating you alive for years keeping it a secret, but you knew you had to.

“They didn’t know what they were doing,” you said, your words coming quickly now, like breaking a hole in a damn and now everything was spilling out. But he was the only person who would understand. The only person who had known you before. “But it worked,” you whispered to him, so afraid that anyone would listen in and hear you.

“What?” he asked confused.

“It worked,” you said again, fighting to quickly lift your shirt and push down your trousers to show him the bite mark on your hip.

“Wait, you got bitten?” he urgently said in a hushed tone, his body quickly moving forward to crowd you further and hide you even though there was no one else around.

“But nothing happened,” you insisted, quickly trying to cover yourself up again, but you froze at the feeling of his thumb moving over your skin.

“When?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he traced his thumb backwards and forwards over the raised scar.

“Nearly five years ago,” you said shakily, your breathing becoming shallow at the feeling of his touch and the closeness of his body. “I thought everybody was dead. I thought…” you hesitated as you tried to confess to him the thing that had broken you the most. “I thought you were dead,” you said to him bravely. “I just- ran.” you told him as his thumb came to a stop, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

“I remembered what you said over lunch that day. Figured there had to be something more. So I ran. Moved across the country and back again until I landed here.”

“Does anyone know about…?” His voice hesitated, not wanting to say the words out loud just in case.

“No.” You shook your head.

“Why are you telling me?” he asked curiously.

“Because you were my best friend,” you confided. “Despite everything we went through, there’s no one I trust more,” you said and he finally stepped back, his hands rubbing at his eyes in what you feared was frustration.

“And what do you expect me to do now?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but- Manny please,” you said stepping forward, your hands reaching out for him. He froze. “I thought you were dead. Had I known I would have come back for you.”

“What does that mean?” he frowned, irritated and defensive.

“This place, here. You don’t have to fight anymore. We could live- together,” you insisted.

“What?” He said confused, feeling like this whole conversation was spiralling off the rails, before he’d had a chance to grasp it.

“Manny, I’ve found a place here where I can truly live, not just fight and survive all the time. I can relax. Do other things. Be a part of an actual community. We- we could-“ You didn’t know how to say it. “We could have a life together!” You finally spat out. “Oh come on,” you said confidently when he looked at you perplexed. “I know you liked me. I saw the way you looked at me back then. I wasn’t an idiot. I just never said anything because I didn’t see the point. We were soldiers, not just people back then. But now- here- we could live. We could be something.”

“I can’t just abandon my friends!” He said enraged. “And after everything that just went on out there, I doubt we’d be very welcome here in the long run.”

“Okay, then let’s go to Jackson. I hear there’s a large colony of people there.”

“We’ve just come from Jackson,” he said dejectedly and suddenly he couldn’t seeem to meet your eyes.

“What were you guys doing in Jackson?” You tentatively asked him, unsure if you wanted to hear the answer.

“We were hunting down that Joel guy.”

“And did you… find him?” you asked. He nodded. “And?” you presssd.

“Abby killed him.”

There was something about that statement that didn’t sit well with you. You weren’t sure why. I mean, they had been well in their own right to get revenge for what happened to the Fireflies- to your friends- but there was a feeling in your gut, that stemmed from the look on Manny’s face, that told you there was something more.

“What is it?” You asked him. There was clearly something eating him up about the whole thing.

“There was this girl. She gave me this,” he said shifting his hair out the way to show off the cut on his head that had scabbed over. “She seemed to be very stressed about the fact that Abby tracked him down and killed him.”

“You think she’ll come after you all in revenge?” you asked.

“All the more reason for us to get back to the group we found in Seattle. Strength in numbers and all.”

“So that’s it then?” You said to him. “You’re just gonna live the rest of your life as a soldier?” You asked him as he settled himself back on the edge of the desk in front of you.

“It’s all I know.”

“But it doesn’t have to be,” you said to him earnestly, stepping forward and he hesitantly placed his hands on your hips. Slowly he lowered his head until his forehead was nearly resting against yours.

“I missed you,” he confided.

“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you said breathing slow. “I would imagine you were at my side, talking to me. Protecting me. Having my back like you always did. When I got bit, it was your voice in my head telling me to get up. To keep going. I thought you led me here. Because you wanted me to live,” you confessed with tears in your eyes. “You were all I ever wanted. There was no one else like you.”

Suddenly his lips were on yours. They were chapped from days trekking through the cold, but they still set you on fire. You had dreamt of this so many times, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

“You were the only thing I have EVER wanted,” he stressed, your breaths mingling with your closeness. “You were the only person who made me want more in this life.”

“Then stay,” you insisted, your eyes searching his desperately now you finally had him in your arms once again. “Please... Stay.”

#manny alvarez #manny Alvarez x reader #manny Alvarez imagine #the last of us imagine #manny the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou #Danny Ramirez characters

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rinhaler · 1 year ago

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MORE UNCLE NANAMI PLEASIEEEE PLEASE 🥺🥺🥺🥺👉🏽👈🏽

++ 𝐡𝐢𝐢, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲/𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 🙈 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐤𝐬𝐣

It's been a while since I did any nanamin stuff hehe (combining two reqs bc u both don't have anything specific heheheee)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, incest, fem!reader, uncle!nanamin, fingering, exhibitionism, public sex ig, squirting, pet names (sweetheart, princess, angel, baby).

words: 1.1k

“W-Wow…” you muse, taking in the decadent atmosphere of the restaurant.

You’ve seldom been to places like this, like when your favourite uncle decides to treat you and your mother to a nice meal when he’s in town. But even then, there is a stark difference from the restaurants back home in the village you live in. It’s magnificent. You may have experienced a similar setting before, but never on a date.

A date with that very same uncle, nonetheless.

“You like it, sweetheart? I’m glad.” he tells you, taking your hand as you're guided by the maître d' to your table. He looks over the top of his menu as he studies your face. You’re so precious, that’s what he thinks as you look over the options and realise you don’t understand what any of them are. “I’ll order for you.” he assures you, taking the menu from your hand and setting it down.

You feel yourself get warmer, a little embarrassed that he picked up on your cluelessness so easily. But you smile, regardless, thanking him.

You’ve been so excited for this little trip since you first heard about it.

“Uncle Nanami wants to know if you’d like to spend the weekend with him?” your mother asked/told you. And, bless her, she had no idea what that would entail.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him. You were hardly surprised when your ankles were practically behind your ears as he drilled his cock in and out of your puffy, slicked up folds, the minute he got you to his house.

You’d been drenched the entire train ride.

“You look so pretty tonight, princess.” he tells you, cupping your face so sweetly with a rough, masculine hand. His singular hand is almost the size of your entire face. He coos at you as your eyelids become heavier, leaning in to place a delicate kiss on your cheek. “I’m so happy you’re here with me. Hopefully your mother won’t object to this being a regular thing.” he smiles.

You’ve been squirming in your seat since before your main course arrived. The way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, you forget how naughty your uncle Nanamin can be. Your panties are once again entirely soaked through. He’d mentally noted how much you were wriggling around, though he chose not to comment on it. Not until—

“Can’t sit still for five minutes, hm? What’s wrong?” he asks.

“N-Need you…” you whisper, putting your head down to avert his intense stare. Though you’re soon looking at him again as he tilts your head up by your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze.

“What was that, angel? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Need you… uncle Nanamin, need you real bad.” you pout. And at that, he smirks. You’re a little taken aback as his hand lowers beneath the table. Here? Right here? Your heart pounds as you look around at the other clueless restaurant patrons. This is so unlike him. He’s always so upstanding and discreet. But—

“My my, sweet little girl. You are soaked.” he comments as his fingers breach the hemline of your cotton panties. You bite your lip as his fingers drag up and down the length of your slit. He shushes you as your eyes well with tears, shame and pleasure wrack through you as he finds your slippery clit. And he targets it, skilfully. “Be good for me, be so good for me. If you make a single sound, I won’t touch you for the remainder of the weekend. Do you understand?”

You take his words literally, only nodding as he awaits your answer. It’s near impossible, though, when he makes you feel so good like this. Even with just a few pathetic rubs on your clit, your eyes begin to roll back.

“Na— Nanamin,” you do your best to whisper, his name leaving your lips as a ghoulish gasp. He shushes you, quietly, but it’s loud enough to make a statement. His eyebrows furrow, and you can’t tell if it’s anger or disappointment. You think you’ll die if he stops, though his ministrations haven’t ceased yet. Maybe you were quiet enough to test the boundaries of what he actually meant.

He doesn’t want you to cause a scene.

“Kiss me, please.” you whisper again. And that softens his features. He pities you, you think, although that assumption proves wrong as he indulges you. He closes the distance between you without letting up his gentle yet purposeful touches on your pretty pearl. You’re a little surprised when you feel his tongue enter your mouth, something you’ve never known him to do in public before. “I— I love you.”

“Yeah?” he smiles into your kiss before he breaks it completely. “You’re so close, you’re shaking. Let me see how much you love me. Cum for your favourite uncle, sweetheart, go on.” he instructs you.

He holds one of your hands with his free one while your other one curls into your seat. Your knuckles turn white as you finish, legs trembling and clamping around his hand as you douse his fingers. You can’t believe he’s made you squirt in public. Embarrassment rises through you once more, and you’ve never felt such a scorching temperature in your life.

You look around to see if anyone has noticed, while Nanami withdraws his hand and crosses his ankle over his knee. You watch him as he sucks his fingers clean of the mess, your mess, with a look of contentment on his face. You, however, are panting heavily while you rest your head in one hand on the table. You’re slumped over, and you couldn’t feel more self-conscious.

You don’t exactly look like you belong here.

“Would you be interested in some dessert?” a waiter asks as he approaches, though his question almost evaporates as he looks at you. Your sweat coated skin and your mussed up hair catches him off guard. Your irregular breathing makes him worry for your well-being. “Are you alright, Miss? You look…” he finds himself at a loss of what to even say. He knows he needs to be polite, but you almost look ill.

“She’s fine, just a little warm and worked up.” your dear uncle intervenes, smiling at the waiter graciously as he interlocks his fingers and rests his chin atop them. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart? I’m sure you’ll cool down after some ice cream.”

You nod, doing what you can to pull yourself together. You’d hate to embarrass your favourite uncle, after all. What if he doesn’t invite you back to do this again?

“Wonderful, sir.” the waiter smiles as he holds up a pad of paper with a pen to take your dessert orders. “You make a lovely couple, by the way.” you aren’t sure if he’s being polite out of obligation to his job, or if he genuinely feels that way. But you and your uncle share a knowing smile with each other, and yours only grows wider as he brushes a fallen section of hair out of your face.

“We aren’t a couple.” he starts. “I’m her uncle.”

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #uncle nanamin #tw:incest #tw exhibitionism

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i2rizz · 2 months ago

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hello!! May i request, itoshi brothers, shidou, isagi and kaiser with a football s/o?

Hello! And ofc! I just sincerely hope you didn't mean the reader as the football itself:>

Also i made the reader gender neutral because i wasn't sure if you wanted them to be a girl.

Bllk Boys With A Footballer S/O

Sae Itoshi

Sae didn’t fall for you the way people imagine. There were no cinematic glances or magical first touches—just quiet awareness. You played well, really well. Sharp footwork, even sharper mind, but none of the cocky energy most people walked around with. That got his attention.

He never said much at first. Just subtle things—lingering after practice, offering small nods after your goals, holding eye contact just a second too long. The day he gave you a water bottle without being asked, you knew. That was his version of a confession.

Dating him is subtle warmth. Sae doesn’t need words—he shows up. Every game, every practice, every quiet walk home where he slips his hand into yours and says, "I'd pass to you in the final minute. That's how much I trust you"

And you know what? From him, that’s everything.

Rin Itoshi

You were a bit too much for him—at least at first. You smiled too often. Talked too much. Walked into every room like you belonged there. It irritated him how effortlessly people liked you… until he realized he did too.

He started showing up early to joint drills, pretending it was coincidence. He’d grumble when you teased him but never actually walked away. The more you played together, the more he stopped seeing your brightness as loud. It became… comforting.

One day, someone made a snide comment about you during practice. Rin was across the field in seconds, shoving the guy back and saying flatly, "Shut your mouth" That was the day you knew he cared.

Rin doesn’t do sweet. But he does real. And in his world of pressure and silence, you’re his anchor.

Shidou Ryusei

It was bound to be explosive.

You’re steady. Focused. Strategic. He’s none of those things—and somehow, that’s what made it work.

The first time you played against him, he tried to rattle you with his usual wild energy. You stole the ball and scored without even acknowledging him. He was stunned. You ignored him. That was the exact moment he decided you were his favorite person on earth.

Now, he hypes you up constantly, way too loud in public, bragging to anyone who’ll listen. "That’s my s/o! You see that goal?! That’s them! I’d die for them, just saying"

Off the field? He crashes at your place, sprawled on your floor like a golden retriever with a nosebleed, asking you to replay your goal "in slow motion but also maybe shirtless this time"

Isagi Yoichi

Isagi fell for you the same way he plays football—with his whole heart.

He was starry-eyed from the beginning. You were composed and clever, your passes precise, and your game sense immaculate. Every time you spoke, he leaned in just a little, just enough to memorize you.

He cheers for you louder than he does for himself. After every game, he sends you voice notes breaking down your plays and ends each one with, "God, you’re amazing"

You two review footage together, debate tactics over takeout, and race sprints until you’re both wheezing from laughter. He loves your brain. He loves your play. But mostly, he loves that you chose him.

You once asked if he ever felt threatened by your skill.

He smiled, kissed your forehead, and whispered, "I just feel lucky I get to witness it"

Michael Kaiser

You weren’t like the others he was used to. You didn’t fall for his charm, didn’t care about his brand, and definitely didn’t back down when he got smug on the field.

You nutmegged him the first time you played against him. He stood there, stunned, then laughed—real and loud—and said, "Okay. You’ve got my attention"

It was a rivalry, then a partnership, then something that felt like destiny.

Kaiser calls you "queen/king/monarch"(whatever atp😭 doing a gn reader is hard fr) in interviews, but in private, he watches you like you’re made of gold. You’re the one person he trusts to lead alongside him. The only one he lets see the cracks behind the arrogance.

"You don’t follow anyone" he once said, voice low. "That’s why I’d follow you."

He meant it.

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sky-high-standards · 2 years ago

Text

Yandere Emperor x fem reader

set in medieval times. usual warnings y'all should know the drill by now☺

Your kingdom was being invaded and everyone did what they could to save it but the invaders were too strong you watched so many innocent people being slaughtered by the invaders and the survivors were taken hostage including you.

These invaders were sent by the emperor who was a cold and merciless man until he met you~

You were taken into the magnificent palace where you were forced to work for the emperor's wife Imelda, she was an extremely insufferable woman and treated all of her servants like crap. It wasn't the best life, but it could be far worse but unfortunately Imelda and the Emperor were having a rough patch and rumors said he was having multiple affairs with other women, so she was worse than usual.

You were on your way to bring Imelda her breakfast when someone bumped into to you and that person just happened to be the emperor you looked up at him wide eyed and covered in Imelda's breakfast and apologized profusely while he just stared at you he didn't look angry all he did was stare at you as you quickly collected everything and bowed before you ran off but little did you the moment he saw you that nervous look on you face got him excited in a way that no woman including Imelda had ever done something about you just caught his attention.

You walked into Imelda's room to see her crying on the floor you asked her what happened an she totally lost it.

Imelda: That's none of your concern you pathetic slave your lucky to be here but remember your place and stay out it!!!

You then left not wanting to deal with her again. It turns out that the king had just gotten tired of her and sent her off which was great news for everyone since they didn't have to deal with her anymore. Naturally the Emperor had to remarry so he had many beautiful women come to the palace where he would choose his new bride due to you being a servant you had to assist the women being sent but the strange thing was that each time a woman was being presented, he glanced at you for every single one it was as confusing to the emperor as it was to you he was just drawn to you every time he saw you a wave of excitement and...love? came over him that he wasn't used to.

Eventually he chose a wife she was very beautiful and seemed like a very suitable wife, but he never got that feeling when he was around her. The emperor's wife whose name was Miranda was very kind and caring and even befriended you she was great in every possible way, but everyone could feel the emperor didn't love her so poor Miranda made it her mission to win his affection yet nothing worked so she slowly began to give up on his affection while u didn't have to try you started to see the emperor a lot more often and you noticed his cold crystal blue eyes following you as you cleaned and unbeknownst to you it took a great deal of strength to restrain himself from pouncing of you and making you his he would go feral on the inside when you bend down to clean in his bedroom it was embarrassing how you didn't even have to do much to make him hard.

Slowly the emperor tried to have you around more to ease his hunger like "accidentally" brushing his hand against yours or having you bend down to get his pen that he "accidentally" dropped. All he wanted to do was make you his to own every inch of you, but he restrained himself, but it got harder to each time almost as if you were teasing him.

Tell me if I should make a part 2 I'm tired rn

Stay hydrated and safe love Y'all

#yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x you #name my yandere #yandere boy #medieval #yandere emperor

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tsukiflwr · 10 months ago

Text

𐙚 . CUTE PANTS…

𝓅airing ∿ ran takahashi x f!reader ᰔ 𝑜ne shot ; fluff, meet cutes, 𐙚 𝓌c 1599 ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓇oro's note. i’m so happy you sent a req for my boyfie ran, i have been wanting to write something for him for a while >.< . . based on this ask ﹒꒰ 𝓁ibrary ꒱

𝒮. you unexpectedly meet a new neighbor in . . . cute? pants during a fire drill

You had heard the alarms before you had even seen the apartment building you have been residing in for the past few years. Your thighs subtly ached as you rushed up the stone inclined path that led to the building.

A heavy breath of relief left your lips when you made it to the top and saw your fellow residents talking amongst themselves outside the apartment. No fire or fire fighters in sight, it was just a drill. You smiled politely at your neighbors as you passed them, walking closer towards the apartment building, the annoying alarm didn't bother you since you were used to the sound.

Your eyes traveled across the small sea of residents, some stood together most likely gossiping or complaining about the drill while others chose to stand alone. Your eyes did a double take when you noticed a tall and unfamiliar figure standing on his lonesome near the small water fountain that was to the side of the building.

He had his back to you as he looked up at the building, so it wasn't his face that caught your attention, no it was his pants. It was his black joggers with little volleyballs. On them. What an interesting choice of pants, you thought to yourself with a small hum. You could easily tell by his body language that he was anxious about something.

“No need to look so worried, they do this every other month” You spoke as you walked up behind him, your tone reassuring and soft, not wanting to startle him with your sudden presence. Your eyes widened at how fast he turned to look at you, despite your soft tone your sudden presence did seem to startle him.

Ran flinched and quickly turned around to face you when he heard your voice, his breath hitching once he made eye contact with you. He was not expecting someone so pretty to be standing behind him, hell even talking to him. His mind wasn't even comprehending your words, instead his eyes were taking in every detail of you that he could.

He suddenly felt very ridiculous, standing there with his lips parted as he looked down at you. He was internally yelling at himself to say something, but he couldn't form the words. Your lips parted in shock as you locked eyes with his sparkling brown eyes, your thoughts blanked for a moment as you took in his beauty. You started to become worried that you said something wrong when he didn't say anything back…just stared at you.

Your fingers nervously fidgeted with the strap of your tote bag, you clear your throat and continue to speak, your tone a lot less confident as it was before “Safety measures and all that”

Ran finally broke out of his trance, blinking a few times before giving you a small nod “Ahh right, that's nice to know” ran internally cringed at his poor excuse of a response, but he was thankful that you didn't seem to mind his awkwardness as you gave him a smile and listened to his words. He brought his hand up to awkwardly rub at his nape, he was totally blowing it and making a fool of himself.

“Cute pants” you mused with a teasing smile as your eyes trailed down his body, stopping longer at his pants before tilting your head back to look up at him. Your teasing smile and tone made his heart start to race, and his hands start to shake at his sides.

Ran’s eyes widened in panic, and he nervously rubbed his hands on the side of his pants, cursing himself for even stepping out of his apartment wearing them. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he chuckled nervously at the expense of himself “it's my laundry day”

Before you could respond, Ran took charge of the conversation, wanting to move past his embarrassing pants. He held out his hand for you to shake as he introduced himself with a shy smile “I’m ran, i just moved into 242”

His heart fluttered at the feeling of your soft hand holding onto his as you politely shook it. A choked-out gasp left his lips when you held his hand tighter as you got on your tiptoes to place a featherily light kiss on both of his cheeks before pulling away far too quickly for his taste.

You smiled at his cute reaction, judging by his slight accent he wasn't from here and in turn, wasn't used to the cultural embrace. You let go of his hand before introducing yourself “242, hmm seems like you're right above me, do you have an explanation for the shuffling noises at 6am?”

Ran didn't seem to pick up on your teasing tone and he's quick to apologize, trying to explain that it's because he has to be up early to stretch, but you found yourself getting lost in the way his eyes sparkled, his words completely going over your head. You giggled and shook your head, cutting him off from his small rant of apologies with your sweet tone “I'm just teasing ran, I'm already up by 6 so it doesn't bother me”

“Oh” he mumbled to himself before nervously joining you in laughter, instantly relaxing a little at your reassurance. He cleared his throat and looked around at the two of your guy's surroundings, avoiding eye contact with you, before mumbling shyly “Sorry I'm not usually this awkward”

You were quick to reassure him with a smile “It's alright, I'm sorry for –”

“No no no it's not your fault . . . well it is but –” ran was internally panicking as he quickly cut you off, the last thing he wants is his pretty neighbor blaming herself for something that wasn't her fault, well not entirely her fault. His heart was starting to race as you looked up at him in confusion with a slight tilt of your head “It is?”

Ran let out a heavy breath before confessing softly as he stuffed his shaking hands in his pockets “You're just really pretty and i'm standing here making a fool out of myself the more i talk”

He was worried that he came on too strong by calling you pretty when you physically froze and looked up at him with wide eyes. But he let out a small breath of relief when you let out a small giggle and took a step closer to him, he picked up on the small ‘cute’ you mumbled under your breath before saying “Thank you ran, and don't worry i don't think you are making a fool of yourself at all”

“That's a relief, because I would really like to get to know you better . . . if that's alright with you of course, I'm in need of a good tour guide,” Ran smiled, shocking himself and you at the confidence and flintiness in his tone.

Before you could answer you heard the manager of the apartment building calling out that it was alright for everyone to return to their apartments. You watched as your fellow residents made their way back into the building. You look back to ran to see that he hasn't looked away from you, his sparkling brown eyes begging for an answer, specifically a yes.

You bit your lip before reaching into your tote bag and pulling out your pen and small notebook where you always wrote down your grocery lists. Ran’s eyes followed your every movement as you flipped it open and started to jolt down a number. His eyes went back up to your face as you ripped the page out and held it out for him.

“Call me and we can schedule that tour, specifically not at 6am” You teased with a sparkling smile, slipping your pen and notebook back into your bag once he took the small paper. Ran smiled and let out a chuckle at your teasing, carefully holding the paper in his hands.

“I’ll make sure to wear a different pair of pants” ran quickly joined in your teasing, looking down at his pants with a smile before looking back at you. You giggled and looked down at his pants with a small smile before locking eyes with him, your sweet smile turning into a flirty smirk as you looked at him up and down before confidently saying

“Hmm i don't mind what you wear, i have a feeling you would look cute in anything”

Ran went still at your words, the flush on his cheeks were quick to come back at your openly flirting, he opened his mouth to try to come up with anything to say but nothing came out. You laughed and the sound sounded like heaven to his ears, you softly patted his shoulder as you walked away from him and towards the building lobby.

Ran quickly turned around to face you and watched as you walked away from him, his eyes following you dutifully. Before stepping into the lobby, you turn to face him one more time, giving him a smile and shy wave before leaving his sight. He returned the smile and wave before looking down at the light pink paper in his hands. His smile turned into a grin as his mind tried to memorize the numbers.

Living in Italy was a big change for Ran. The cultural differences, the greetings, the way people dined . . . the random fire drills in his new apartment, it would all take some time for him to get used to it all.

. . . but seeing his pretty neighbor was one change he could happily get used to.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓇oro's note. pls pls the way I screamed when I saw a ran req in my inbox . . . and it being my first ask for the acc 🤭 I had soso much fun writing this , i absolutely love ran sm . I’ve had a crush on him for years ( og ran girly mhm ) so finally getting to write for him is great ! I hope you guys liked this , please let me know what you guys think I would love to your your guys opinions (∩˃o˂∩)♡ ꒰ nav ꒱

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