#I don’t think I’ve seen anyone point that out yet

[gabriels-golden-kazoo]

So I rewatched s13 ep20 Unfinished Business and there’s something I can’t get out of my head.

Loki said that Gabriel promised not to get involved with any of his own family business in exchange for his help, and by showing up at the meeting in s5 he broke that promise.

Why did Gabriel show up? To save Dean and Sam.

[ncthandrake]

i literally played the mwiii beta and hated it so idk why i got my hopes up for today

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his  wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t now. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. ���I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[amourane]

so this is love

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 2.7k

summary: there's a weird feeling that erupts in theo's chest whenever he looks at you and for the first time in his life his mind goes silent.

warnings: none!

a/n: i honestly love this so much and it's so so sooo cute!

Theodore Nott was many things. Quiet, judgmental, emotionless and most importantly handsome. One of the prettiest boys in Hogwarts yet the most unapproachable. No one had ever seen a smile grace his lips and if you had tried to converse with the Slytherin he would only stare at you with blank eyes waiting for you to go away. He spoke little words but it was enough for people to get the point. Unlike his rowdy group of friends, he wouldn’t merrily join in conversation, rather make snarky remarks every now and then, an uninterested look always on his face. A scowl or a smirk always tugged at his lips as he listened to what his friends had to say. 

Even though Theo never voiced his thoughts out loud he always knew what to think. His mind was constantly running at a hundred miles per hour. Every little thing he wanted to say flitted through his mind. It was as if his head was a cacophonous symphony. 

Yet as he looked at the girl in yellow robes his mind was oddly quiet. He watched her silently as she dropped her ingredients into her cauldron. It was a rare moment. One he had discovered a month ago when he had finished his potion early and looked around to see if anyone else was done. There you were. Eyes scanning the contents of your Potion’s book but it was quite clear you had finished brewing whatever was in your cauldron as you leaned back into your seat. 

Theo’s mind was silent. 

There were no thoughts, no opinions, no judgments. He stared at you and it made him uneasy. There was something about you that unnerved him. He didn’t recall you from his other classes and it was the first time he had even seen you in Potions. As he felt the comforting silence settle in his head he concluded one thing - you were interesting and he was going to keep an eye on you.

“Nott, mate, what are you doing? I’ve been asking you to pass me a quill for about a century, have you suddenly gone deaf?” Blaise nudged Theo out of his trance and the brunette blinked for a second before passing over a quill. His partner frowned before following where his eyeline previously was and he smirked. “Still obsessing over the little Hufflepuff I see. Who knew you were capable of having feelings.”

“I don’t fancy her.”

“I never said you did.” Blaise’s smirk widened. “You came up with that on your own.”

Theo felt his face heat up. It wasn’t true. He didn’t like you, not in the slightest. He was merely fascinated at how you were able to turn his manic mind into a state of tranquillity. He looked over. You were talking to your partner beside you and Theo assumed she had said something funny because a grin had overtaken your pretty features and a giggle slipped past your lips. Theo didn’t fancy you but he couldn’t deny that you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

//

“He’s staring again.” Hannah said as she poked your side to get your attention. “It’s like he’s drilling holes into your skull. Do you think he wants to hex you?”

You looked up from your cauldron with a frown as you faced your friend. “He doesn’t stare at me, don’t be silly Hannah. I’m sure he has a reason for looking this way.”

“Y/n you’re terrible at finding excuses for anything. It’s so obvious he’s looking at you and his glare is starting to scare me a bit.” 

Behind your fellow Hufflepuff was Theodore Nott. Your eyes glaze over his perfectly tousled hair and his dark coloured eyes. He really was handsome. You watch as he says something to Blaise and you see a tint of pink touch his cheeks. Cute. You smiled to yourself. Merlin, he was really cute.

Theodore Nott had been watching you for a few weeks now and you weren’t oblivious enough to not notice the Slytherin’s gaze. At first you didn’t know how to react when you first felt his eyes on you. It was weird. Every time you would turn around he would already be looking down at his piece of parchment, scribbling something down with his quill. You had never caught him staring at you but you could certainly feel it. The piercing feeling of his stare made goosebumps rise on your skin. In a way you found it endearing. Sometimes you would turn around and find him, nose deep in his textbook and you could faintly see the tips of his ears blush red. It was those times you would giggle to yourself. 

It was arrogant to assume that Theo felt that way about you but for some reason you couldn’t help but get a little giddy at the thought he might. That someone like him would even think about going out with someone like you. That the cutest guy in your year would fancy you. Then reality came crashing back and you knew that a Slytherin would never be seen with a Hufflepuff much less date one.

“Hello? Earth to Y/n? You still there?” Hannah waved her hand in front of your face. “Merlin, one mention of Nott and you go all dreamy on me. When are you going to ask him out then?”

Your cheeks flared up with heat and you couldn’t help a smile that tugs at your lips. “Shush Hannah.” You try to sound serious but with your blushing face and bright grin it’s hard to do so.

“You’re actually whipped, Y/n.” Hannah let out a laugh and you let a giggle slip past your lips at her statement. You didn’t feel the need to deny it after all, maybe it held some truth. 

//

Theodore Nott always knew what to say and when but as he stood in front of you he found himself speechless. Now as his eyes wandered over your delicate hands and beautiful face he couldn’t find the words that needed to be said. His mind was quiet again. Silence. He opened his mouth to apologise for bumping into you and nearly knocking you over but no words came out. So he did the next best thing, help you grab your books.

You were scrambling to grab scrap pieces of parchment that had escaped the grasps of your books and Theo grabbed the Herbology textbook you had dropped. He watched as you gathered your things before finally meeting his gaze. You smiled and he felt his heart stop. Suddenly it was as if he was being engulfed in a tidal wave. There was a twinkle in your eyes and it set off a spark in his chest that he didn’t know was there. Theo felt himself grow hot as you stared at him and for the first time in his life he felt self conscious.

“Thank you.” You said and he felt his ears ring as your voice echoed through his mind. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going and I was in a rush to get to my next class. I hope you aren’t hurt anywhere.”

A beat passed.

Theo blinked. He watched as your bright expression slowly morphed into one of concern. He watched as you reached out to touch his arm.

“Theodore?”

“It’s Theo.” Is the only thing he can think to say before he realised how it must’ve sounded rude. “But you can call me Theodore. I don't mind.”

Another beat passed.

The two of you were now standing in the middle of the hallway as other students passed by. Theo could hear their whispers as they looked. The curious eyes wondering what a Slytherin could possibly be talking to a Hufflepuff about. For a second Theo thinks he’s upset you and you’re going to storm off but he’s proven wrong. The bright smile returned to your face.

“Well Theo, I’m going to need my Herbology textbook back, I’ve already been late twice this week.” 

“O-Oh yes right, sorry I forgot.”

Theodore Nott has never once stumbled over his words. Yet as he stood in front of you he found himself wrapped in a world he had never known before. He felt himself grow even warmer and he reached a hand to loosen the emerald tie around his neck. This was unlike him. He never went speechless, he never struggled to find a smart quip or retort and he most definitely never stuttered. You brought out a side to him that was new and he didn’t know if he liked it or not.

“Thank you for helping me Theo, I’ll see you in Potions.” You waved goodbye as you hurried off down the hallway. 

Theo’s eyes remained glued onto your frame as you ran. A rising bubbly feeling began in his chest and he felt his heart quicken. He gulped. You had long disappeared from his view but he still felt a burning sensation on his cheeks and he tried to cool himself down with his hands but it served no use. Giving up, he turned away and marched down the hall determined to figure out whatever he was feeling.

//

“You know staring at her won’t make her your girlfriend Nott.” Mattheo smirked as he watched his best friend. The others at the Slytherin table tittered with laughter and Theo rolled his eyes. He was now used to his friend’s teasing and even though it was relentless he didn’t pay any attention to it. Why would he? It wasn’t true anyway.

“Very funny Riddle.”

“You know me Theo, always the jokester.” He winked as he sipped the pumpkin juice in his cup.

“But seriously Theo you should ask her out if you like the girl. Salazar, it's better than drilling holes in the back of her head.” 

“Pansy’s right Nott, we’re all tired of you mooning over the girl just go ask her out already and then the two of you can go snog in the broom cupboard.” Draco snickered and the other Slytherins erupted into another round of laughter.

“Well you’ve got it all wrong I don’t fancy her.” Theo looked at his friends with a scowl present on his face. “She makes me feel all these things and I hate it. I hate how different it is. I hate how quiet everything gets when I look at her. I hate how she makes me feel and it’s all horrible and downright disgusting. It’s like I’ve got a fever whenever I’m around her and I’ve somehow contracted some life-threatening heart disease. My mouth dries up and I stumble over what I say and it’s not like me at all. So no, you’ve all got it wrong because I don't fancy her.”

With that Theo leaves the table, dinner untouched, with red cheeks and a rapidly beating heart. His friends watched dumbfounded as their friend trudged away. They all exchange knowing glances before shaking their heads at his obliviousness to his own feelings.

“That guy seriously needs to realise that sometimes not being an emotionless prick isn’t going to kill him.” Pansy dug into her beef as she scoffed at her friend’s stupidity.

Unbeknownst to the Slytherins a certain Hufflepuff was watching as their friend stormed off, her eyes never once leaving his ruby red face and the angry glare that accompanied it. She excused herself from her table before slipping away to follow a certain brunette.

//

Annoyance was the main thing that Theodore Nott felt at the moment. Anger at the persistence that he had a crush on you when he didn’t, he knew he didn’t. You had cast some sort of spell on him. Some sort of hex that made him notice every little bit about you. The way your smile lit up the room, the way your laughter echoed in his mind like the happy tinkering of a bell. Every second he saw you it was as if you overtook his senses. Clouding his sight with your beauty, suffocating him with your sweet scent, muffling his ravenous thoughts until everything was calm. 

When Theodore Nott looked at you he felt an overwhelming emotion, one that he couldn’t explain, but it made his hectic thoughts still and as cheesy as it sounded it made time itself stand still. When Theodore Nott looked at you he noticed every fine small detail like the way you like to smile at yourself whenever you get a question right or the way you tap your fingers on the desk when you’re concentrating. When Theodore Nott looked at you he felt his heart soar and he isn’t used to feeling this unnatural emotion that had been brewing inside of him.

He didn’t even notice you were behind him until he heard your voice. Soft and gentle and kind. He spun around. You had a look of concern etched upon your face and you stepped closer towards him and he backed away feeling his heart quicked once again. He glared at you hoping that his stare would force you to go away and would force whatever he was feeling to disappear.

“Are you okay Theo? I saw you leave and you didn’t touch your food, did something happen?”

You were so caring, so nice, so calm. You were so many things and Theo couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take looking at you when he could hear his heart pumping. “What are you doing to me?” He whispered, backing away further.

You frowned. “I haven’t done anything Theo. Are you sure you’re okay you look quite red and-”

“You’re lying.” He seethed. “You’re lying because why are you making me feel these things? Why does my mind go quiet, my thoughts stop, the words fail? There’s no explanation to this. I don’t understand why my heart races and everything suddenly feels hotter around me. I don’t understand this feeling I have inside me, some magnetic force that keeps pulling me to you. You’re everywhere Y/n.”

His glare intensified as he spoke, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate step forward. “I look at you and I feel things I’ve never felt before, this bubbly warm feeling. Whenever I’m around you I can’t think of what to say. I close my eyes and I see your smile, your eyes. I can hear your laughter even if we’re in the noisiest classroom. You’re everywhere Y/n. So tell me, what have you done to me?”

A beat of silence.

The both of you stare at each other. Your frown had long gone and now you simply looked at the Slytherin in front of you trying to decipher his anger.

“It’s love Theo.” You take a step closer. “All the things you’ve just said - it’s love.”

Theo froze. His expression remained stony yet his eyes betrayed his thoughts as he looked away for a second. He blinked before looking at you once again. Your eyes, the eyes he couldn’t help but notice everywhere he went, looked back at him. His mind was no longer quiet. An outbreak of noise erupted inside his head and he struggled to grasp what was going on. He couldn’t focus. All he could hear was his own voice in his mind, overlapping, shouting, screaming, crying. It all came crashing down and Theo didn’t know what to do.

Then your lips collided with his and he stilled. The noise died down. Chaos ceased. Theo let his eyes flutter shut as he kissed you back with fervour. Your lips were soft and you tasted sweet like strawberries. He wrapped his arm around your waist and you were warm as you leaned into his touch. He felt your arms tangle in his hair and he smiled at the feeling. This felt right. This didn’t feel weird or disgusting. It was something he never thought he would feel. 

The both of you broke apart and you blinked looking at Theo with your beautiful eyes. His heart continued to race. You beamed up at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. You were so pretty, so gorgeous and you had just kissed him. His mind was finally quiet again. The strange feeling that filled his body now didn’t feel so foreign at all in fact it felt natural as he gazed at you.

“It’s love Theodore Nott. That’s what you feel.” You give him another kiss. “And it’s what I feel too.”

Theodore Nott was many things but as he closed his eyes to kiss you once again there is only one thing that he wants to be - in love with you.

[eiightysixbaby]

hi there! i'm OBSESSED with your eddie works and I had a lil request for u!

(if this is out of your comfort zone, I totally get btw, i'm just actually hormonal rn)

thinking about reader and eddie while she's ovulating and absolutely, positively feral... maybe they've only been together for a little while and they've fucked before, but he's never really seen that side of her... idk i'm just thinking a lot of thoughts rn

thanks! 💞

hi angel! thank you so much!!! 🥹🫶🏻 i hope i did your request justice 🩵

18+ only plssss. fem!reader, unprotected piv

The clock ticks obnoxiously where it hangs on the wall, marking each passing second that won’t pass fast enough.

It’s not unusual for a shift at the library to go slowly, but today time feels like it’s trudging through thick molasses; barely crawling by. Or maybe it’s just going backwards at this point, who knows.

You chew at the cap of your pen, reading the same sentence of the novel in front of you over and over yet not fully comprehending it. Trying to ignore the desperate ache between your thighs, the heat that pools in the pit of your stomach. It had been a relentless desire for the last couple of hours, a hunger that couldn’t be sated just yet.

But the promise of seeing your boyfriend after work had you chewing-through-your-leash desperate for your shift to end. You know Eddie had a nice dinner planned for the two of you tonight, but all you can think about is how badly you need his hands on you. It makes you feel bad, but you can’t rid yourself of thoughts of his lips on your neck, his fingers splitting you open, your hips grinding against him. This always happens when you’re ovulating, only this time… you’re not hiding it.

The last couple of times, you’d made do with your vibrator at home; embarrassed to let Eddie see this side of you. Your relationship was still quite new, and you weren’t sure if ripping his clothes off any chance you got would scare him away or not. This time, though? You can’t hold back any longer.

The end of your shift arrives at long last, and you practically fling yourself from your receptionist chair. You gather your belongings with haste, throwing everything into your shoulder bag before hightailing it out the door. Your keys jangle as you fumble with them, searching for the correct one to unlock your car. Eddie will be expecting you, although maybe not expecting you in the state that you’re in.

It doesn’t take long to get to the trailer park, your thighs pressing together in an attempt to provide even the smallest amount of friction as you drive along familiar roads. Your car is barely in park before you’re killing the engine, ascending the few steps to his trailer door and swinging it open without a knock to alert anyone inside. Wayne isn’t home anyway, so really what do you need to knock for?

Eddie’s frame appears in his bedroom doorway down the small hallway, his face brightening at the sight of you. You feel like you’re sweating just looking at him, your clothes suddenly too tight as the space between your thighs vibrates with need.

“Hey, baby. I didn’t expect you so soon, did you fly over here?” Eddie asks, a lighthearted joke, but he’s not far from the truth.

You don’t even answer him, slipping off your shoes before you’re trodding down the hallway, throwing your arms around his neck when you reach him.

“Baby, what’s—” he starts to speak, only for you to cut him off with a hot kiss to his lips. His voice dies against your mouth, fizzling into a soft whimper as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Missed you so bad,” you murmur. Your nervousness over how he’d react is tossed out the window, unwilling to wait any longer. “And I’ve been wanting you all fucking day,” you ramble, kissing him between words. “I need you,” you plead, letting a hand fumble with his belt buckle.

He makes a sound that’s halfway between a gasp and a laugh, kissing you before speaking. “Do you not want to go to dinner?” he asks, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“I do,” you admit with a pout. “But I need you right now.” Your hands are on a mission, palming him urgently through denim as if he might disappear any second, never to be touchable again.

The corner of his mouth twitches up in a soft smirk, his thumbs rubbing over your hipbones where his hands hold them.

“I’ve never seen you this needy, sweetheart,” he teases you, brushing his lips across the shell of your ear before he bites at the lobe. “But I like it.”

You whine at this, the slightest touch, and he breathes a quiet laugh.

“Please, Eddie, don’t tease,” you beg as he noses your chin up, kissing at your neck.

He doesn’t listen, taking his time trailing kisses down your soft skin and letting his hands wander but never close enough to where you need him. You can feel yourself dripping, making a mess of your panties. His big hands squeeze your ass, taking greedy handfuls. You let out a moan, louder than you’d intended, earning the nip of his teeth against your skin. Taunting.

You’re riled up, frustrated beyond belief, huffing where you stand before you decide you’ve had enough.

You press your hands to his chest, pushing him off of you. He’s surprised by the action, giving you the opportunity to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him over to his bed and letting him fall onto the mattress. He sits on the edge of it, looking up at you equal parts dumbfounded and turned on. Your hands hurriedly undo the hefty buckle on his belt, unzipping his jeans as you start to straddle his lap. His cock is throbbing, leaking as it lays in waiting in your hand once you retrieve it from its confines.

“Told you not to tease,” you say. His big brown eyes roam over your face, his pretty lips parted just slightly in a state of awe. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

“Yes ma’am,” he obeys, but it’s less him doing the work and more you taking control.

You ruck your skirt up, pushing the fabric of your panties to the side and lining yourself up with his cock, sliding slowly down onto the length of him. Your name escapes his lips as his leaves yours, already starting to rock your hips against his.

He holds you firmly in place on his lap, guiding your movements to the best of his ability. The stretch he provides you with is delicious, exactly what you’d been craving, the entirety of him filling you up perfectly.

“You’re so fucking soaked, baby,” he remarks, bringing one hand up to briefly run through his messy curls, his cheeks already flushed pink. “Feel bad you had to wait so long for me while you’ve been this worked up.”

He’s teasing you, kind of. Pitying you in a way that only makes you ache further. You bounce faster on him, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. He’s cursing under his breath as you’re fucking yourself on his length, riding him with a fervor and determination he hasn’t seen from you yet. He finds it hotter than he’d have ever expected, seeing you in such a state, and it’s taking everything he has not to finish early.

Lucky for him you aren’t far behind, desperate to cum after waiting all day. He lets one of his thumbs lazily circle your clit, sensing your desire to let go in the way your brows furrow in concentration.

Strings of moans tumble from your mouth, curse after curse of his name as you quicken your pace. Your head tips back, pure ecstasy coursing through you as you take what you want from him unashamedly. The rough pad of his finger on your clit makes you feel like you’re on fire, ablaze beneath his touch. His hips buck to meet your bounces, the tip of his cock pressing over and over against your sweet spot.

“Eddie—” you gasp, just as you fall apart on top of him. Your walls grip him like a vice, making him bite down on his lip.

He works you through your high, pulling out when he can’t possibly hold off his orgasm any longer. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before he spills against your skin, cum dripping down your pussy.

Both panting, sweaty messes, you meet each other’s eyes and laugh.

“Feel better now, sweets?” he asks, lips pressing against yours in a heated kiss.

You break away momentarily, cradling his face in your hands. “You have no idea.”

He smiles. “Well, for what it’s worth, you have permission to use me whenever you need me.”

“Thank god,” you sigh, smiling against his cheek. “Cause I don’t think I’m done for the night.”

[ariasakka]

Viktor arcane smut

Talks of body insecurity, smut, fluff, 18+, female reader, similar/same age as Viktor, pussy eating, etc

Nobody has been able to make you cum before. Your best friend Viktor can help you with that.

If anything in this makes you uncomfortable at any point please don’t continue to read. <3

Enjoy ;)

Viktor is your best friend and has been in love with you for years. Jayce keeps hitting on you but you don’t like him. Viktor feels a little jealous every time someone flirts with you especially Jayce but tries not to let it be seen.

You often spend the night at Viktors place because hes your only friend and you’re his closest friend.

You and Viktor were gifted some fancy drinks after presenting your new idea to the council. You both go back to his place after and decide to celebrate. That and neither of you really feel like being alone. After all you both get along with each other better than anyone else. No one knows the two of you better than one another. Late night talks are always both of your favorite. After a few glasses of the worst alcoholic beverage you and Viktor have ever tasted you both lay down on his bed feeling tipsy and exhausted.

Viktor

“I saw Jayce eyeing you all day again.”

You

“Ugh I know, wish he’d leave me alone.”

Viktor chuckles lightly

“You don’t like him back at all? Not even a little?”

You

“I don’t want Jayce. He’s barely even an acquaintance in my eyes. I’ve always gone for men like Jayce. Not because I find any of them attractive but because I feel like I have to. To feel more feminine…or maybe not even just feminine. I guess more petite next to them? Womanly? Weak? I don’t know. None of them have ever been able to make me finish either. But I guess that’s my fault. It can’t be this hard to cum for other women. I don’t really see a point in dating if I don’t find hardly any men attractive plus they don’t satisfy me at all regardless of the non existent orgasm.”

Viktor

“Have you seriously never came with someone else before?”

You

“…no”

Viktor

“Does foreplay not make it easier? Or at the very least more enjoyable?”

You laugh

“Foreplay? That only exists in fiction. Men are not into that thing.”

Viktor

“Boys are not into that sort of thing. What about oral? Clitoral stimulation with the tongue? I feel as though that can always do the job. It’s not too rough nor too gentle. It’s quite intimate and romantic at the same time.”

You

“Um…no man I’ve been with as ever been into that.”

Viktor

“What?!”

You

“Not necessarily because of me they’ve always just said they don’t do that to any woman because “it’s weird” or whatever.”

Viktor sighs

“Let me guess they request oral from their women though.”

You

“Um well….i suppose..”

Viktor

“I feel sorry for you. I assure you men who are actually interested in women don’t prioritize their cock.”

You

“Then what would they even get out of sex if not that?!”

Viktor

“Do you really think men can’t enjoy sex if their dick isn’t involved in the equation?”

You

“Well yes. All men are like that. Aren’t they?..”

Viktor

“Absolutely not. Again men *who are actually into women* will be just as if not more satisfied with his face inbetween her legs.”

You

“…”

Viktor

“Real men have far more enjoyment with foreplay or oral, etcetera than just boring average penetration. It is not impossible for you to cum. You have just been unlucky with men who should look into fucking men or better yet themselves.”

You

“I guess. I’m still convincing myself it’s impossible though.”

Viktor

“Tsk. Jayce is nice but he would probably not know how to satisfy a woman so I suppose you are dodging a bullet there my friend.”

You chuckle and nod in agreement.

Viktor

“Well…what about Jayce’s looks? Do you like him in that regard?”

You

“He’s far from my type in looks as-well.”

Viktor teases

“Do you prefer even more muscular men then?”

You laugh

“Absolutely not! Quite the opposite actually but i always feel huge next to them. If I found a man i actually like he’d never go for someone like me. If he wouldn’t find my body unattractive he’d probably be put off by my strength. Men are always so inscure when I’m stronger than them..”

Viktor feels a warm feeling in his chest when he hears you say “quite the opposite” in hopes he’s closer to your type. That feeling quickly fades when he hears you insult yourself.

Viktor

“You can’t possibly think that can you?!”

You

“What?”

Viktor moves his face closer to yours on the bed in annoyance. He has to make sure you actually hear his words. Take them in. Believe them. You putting yourself down like this is making his head spin.

Viktor

“One you can’t possibly think you’re big. You’re quite small. For Christ sake you’re average height. Two you do not have to be this stupid beauty standard of stick and bone to be beautiful. Three you’re far from huge. Thats never once been a thought in my mind. Four you’re strong. Very strong but any man put off by that is a weak one!”

You

“There are women smaller.”

Viktor

“And you’re still the most beautiful one of them all.”

You

“You don’t have to be nice to me Viktor. I’m just rambling nonsense.”

Viktor

“All women have their own insecurities of course but I truly mean it. I do. You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I truly mean that. I’ve always thought that. I can’t possibly understand how you could think differently.”

You

“I-“

As he was talking he didn’t notice his face had gotten so close you yours now that your his nose was brushing against your cheek. He was so mesmerized with your beauty. So taken aback that you couldn’t see what he saw that with every word he spoke he grew closer and closer to you getting lost in your beauty. He can feel your warm breath against his face. He can hear every shaky breath you take. He was unsure before if you’d ever feel for him an ounce of what he felt for you. In that moment he knew you felt something. He could tell with every fiber of his being. He didn’t care if you felt the exact same intensity for him as he did for you at least he knew you felt something for him and that was enough. All he wanted to do was to please you. Make your legs shake. To make you feel loved. To cherish you. To hold you.

You both paused for a moment. He was lost in thought of you. Before you had time to respond he placed a gentle kiss on your warm lips. To his surprise you reciprocated. You gently tugged on his shirt pulling him in for more. He had always been your type. Always been the one you wanted. What you needed. You were too afraid to ever let him know before. Worried he wouldn’t feel the same way. Most importantly even more worried to push away your best friend. Your only friend. You didn’t know if what Viktor was feeling was just lust or love. The way he was kissing you. The way he was talking to you. It couldn’t help but make you feel as though it was both. You had never felt something this intense. Not even sex made your body react this way. You never wanted it to end.

Viktor felt intoxicated and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. Viktor hovered his hand above your waist desperately wanting to feel your skin with his hands but waited for your okay. You gave him a nod in approval when you saw his hand. With your nod he places his thin fingers on your waist gently tracing them under your shirt. Viktor pulled you closer to him with each kiss until neither of you get any closer together. He couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers into your mouth and tighten his grip on your hip every time you tugged on his shirt.

Viktor pulled away from your lips for a moment. He looked at you with need.

Viktor

“Please, please, I want to make you feel good.”

You

“I- I can’t finish you know that.”

Viktor groans

“I know you can. And if you really can’t at all then I at least know I can make you feel pleasure, please.”

You don’t respond too lost in the way he’s looking up at you with desire.

Viktor traces his fingers gently from your waist down to your legs to your knees then back up again.

Viktor

“I can’t let you live your whole life without feeling pleasure.”

You

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes. Just..do whatever you want.”

Viktor leaves your skirt on. He places soft passionate kisses along your neck while undoing your pants bringing them to your knees. You help him by kicking your pants fully off having them fall to the floor. Viktor slides his hand down on top of your panties and gently traces circles over your clit.

Viktor

“Do you want me to make your pussy feel good?”

You nod in response. You can’t help but moan in excitement as he starts to move his fingers up and down your wet slit over your panties.

You wonder if you’re feeling this good because of his skill or just because it’s Viktor.

Once he can tell you’re soaked, Viktor slowly slides your panties off. Admiring your bare pussy intensely starting to drool a bit at the mouth.

Viktor

“Fuck such a pretty pussy. Can I give it a kiss? Please?”

You

“Mm yes you may.”

Viktor slides himself down on the bed until his face reaches your cunt. He lays on his stomach and presses his face down into your folds. Smothering himself in your juices. He gently traces his tongue along your clit. Gripping your thighs in place as you start to shake from pleasure. You were already feeling so much bliss you couldn’t imagine what on earth an orgasm could feel like. How could you possibly feel better than this.

Once he can tell you’re enjoying this and getting used to the feeling he slides two fingers inside slowly. Gently thrusting them back and forth. Fuck you never knew sex could feel this good. After a while you start to unconsciously buck your hips into his face. When he notices this he starts to scissor his fingers inside of your hole sticking his tongue in between his fingers rapidly licking your insides. With his other hand he gently holds two fingers to your clit. He doesn’t move them, Viktor doesn’t want to overstimulate you too much. The bucking of your hips should stimulate his fingers on your clit enough. Viktor can feel you getting closer and closer to release. His boxers are soaked with precum from the sight of you. The taste of you. The sound of you. If he was to grind into the mattress he could cum in under five minutes but he won’t. He’ll hold back. This is about your pleasure. A few more licks deep in your cunt and your gushing cum all over his face. It doesn’t matter how much you shake his face never leaves your pussy it’s like he’s glued to it. He groans as he tastes your cum. The sight of him licking up every drop is making your brain go numb.

Once he’s cleaned you up he sucks your juices off his fingers before bringing his body up in between your legs. Resting his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

Viktor

“Did I do alright?”

You

“You did perfect. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling that good.”

Viktor smirks and says smugly

“I knew you could cum.”

You smack his arm gently in response before wrapping your arms around his back. Holding him tightly. He feels so good like this. You’ve wanted to hold him like this for so long.

You

“Do you..want me to do anything to you?”

Viktor

“No, no. This is all I needed. Do me one favor though?”

You

“Anything.”

Viktor

“Stay here tonight. In my bed. Let me fall asleep in your arms like this. Let me call you mine tomorrow.”

You

“Call me yours?”

Viktor

“Is it not painstakingly obvious I’m in love with you? Do you not feel an ounce of the same?”

You

“I’ve felt the same for a while. I just..I just didn’t think you felt that too. Or maybe I didn’t want to believe it because it would be too good to be true.”

Viktor

“Let me keep being too good to be true. Please. Let me spoil you. As more than a friend. Be mine.”

You

“I’m yours.”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Too Much (Little Sister Version)

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @redbird-tf

Synopsis: you have nightmares of dying like Mary, and you start to get really clingy with Dean.

It started out in a subtle way. Your first nightmare had been vague, and though it had jarred you, it wasn’t enough to curb your day-to-day activities…much.

“I’m going for a supply run.” Dean’s words had you looking up from the homework you’d been working on. “We’re out of beer…and food.”

“I’ll come.” You were on your feet before the words even left your mouth.

“It’s just a quick run,” Dean argued. “Don’t you have homework?”

“It can wait,” you insisted, already on your way to the Impala. “Let’s go!”

Of course it would be Dean—it had always been Dean. Sure, he had his anger issues and his bad moments. He drank too much and he isolated himself when he was upset. But he always came back; when Sam was at Stanford, when dad disappeared, it was always you and Dean.

So when you started having nightmares about burning on the ceiling, Dean was who you turned to.

Scary things shouldn’t phase you anymore, not after all you’d seen. But this was different. Your whole life you’d heard “what happened to mom.” Never any specifics—it was always, “the demon killed mom,” or “what the demon did to Mary.” Nobody ever gave you any details; they always said you didn’t need to know.

So when you snuck into Dean’s room in the bunker and stole dad’s journal, you were in for a surprise.

The pages you’d read had been stuck together—it didn’t look like anyone had read them—and it took you a moment to peel them apart.

I went to visit a shrink today—I thought he might be a vampire. I went in undercover, booked myself an appointment. I figured out pretty quickly that he wasn’t a monster, but I didn’t leave. It sounds stupid, but I actually talked to him. Told him about Mary. Well, as much as I could tell, which is more than I’ve told anyone. Point is, he told me to write down what happened to her. Every detail I could remember. I don’t like thinking about her…but maybe he was right. Little Sammy asked about Mary just the other day, and I yelled at him. I still feel bad…it’s not his fault, he’s just a kid. Maybe this is the only way I’ll be able to talk about her, but maybe that’ll be enough to keep me from going off on the kids. So here goes…

And John had laid out every gory detail of that night, and you’d read the whole thing. You’d always thought it would be better knowing; that it would somehow bring you some extra closure to know how your mother’s final moments went. You were wrong.

And so came the nightmares. The first one was fuzzy and indistinct; a fire, the sound of screaming. But it was enough to have you going with Dean whenever he left the bunker.

The second one was more vivid. It was also when you realized that it wasn’t your mother you were dreaming about—it was you.

It was so real—you felt the demon’s powers slashing open your stomach, you felt your body lifting off the floor…

But the worst part was the heat. It stung your eyes and sizzled against your blood and seared your skin. You tried to scream, but the smoke choked you and stopped your voice. You struggled to inhale, coughing on the smoke and crying at the pain that lit up every nerve ending.

The bright light of the fire left first, then slowly afterwards the pain. But you were still choking and gasping for breath when you sat up in your bed.

“Dean,” you whimpered, the lone word echoing through your empty room. You weren’t quite used to the bunker yet—you were so used to the motels, where your brothers were right next to you at all times. Most of the time it was annoying, but right now…

You threw your covers off you, finally getting a hold of your runaway breathing as you padded barefoot towards your door. You couldn’t stay in this room—it was this room that you’d dreamt of, this ceiling that you’d burned on.

You flung your door open and started down the hall, but you only got halfway to Dean’s room before you stopped. You couldn’t go to him like this, a tear-streaked mess in the middle of the night; he would know something was wrong, and then you’d have to talk about it.

You couldn’t talk about it.

A bang from the kitchen stole your attention and your breath, your mind wandering towards images of a yellow-eyed intruder. You tip-toed to the kitchen, peaking around the corner and breathing easily when you saw Dean rummaging in the fridge for a beer.

You slipped into the kitchen, heading straight for Dean.

“You’re up early,” he greeted, stiffening in surprise when you wrapped your arms around him. “Hey, something wrong?”

“No,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “Good morning,” you added lamely as you pulled away, as if the greeting would explain away the hug.

“Yeah, mornin.” Dean shrugged, choosing to ignore your strange behavior. “Couldn’t sleep? It’s only 5.”

It was later than you’d thought.

“Not really,” you said. “Can we make breakfast?” You weren’t hungry, but you’d take any excuse to keep Dean close.

“Only if you get the bacon,” Dean said with a grin.

“I think we’re out,” you answered.

“Unacceptable,” Dean decided. “You start on the pancakes, I’ll make a run.”

“Wait! Um…” you wracked your brain for an excuse. “Um, the pancakes can wait, I’ll go with you.”

Dean squinted ever so slightly as he stared you down—that was twice in a week that you wanted to go with him to the store without a good reason.

“You sure you’re ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, just…I want some fresh air.”

“Alright.” You both knew he didn’t believe you, but neither of you brought it up again.

You felt pathetic as you trailed behind Dean, but the idea of sitting around the empty bunker alone until he got back or Sam woke up…

You just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own home, without Dean around.

You sat just a little closer to Dean than you normally would once you got into the Impala, sitting towards the middle of the seat even though the right side was empty. You felt Dean watching you from the corner of his eye, but to your relief he didn’t say anything.

…

“Ok, so how many pounds do we want?” You held a brand of bacon in each hand, eyeing them both. When Dean didn’t respond to your question, you turned around to find the cart there, but no Dean. “Dean?” You glanced up and down the aisle, but he wasn’t in sight. You threw both bacon packages into the cart and ran down the aisle, going down the row and looking frantically down every aisle you passed. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

You rubbed a hand against your chest when your next breath wouldn’t go through your tightened wind pipe. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one was less satisfying than the last. Once you reached the last aisle with still no Dean, you turned around and started back the way you came, hoping that he was down an aisle on the other side of the store.

“Dean? Dean!” You were calling his name, but you could barely even hear your winded and squeaky voice in the vast emptiness of the store, so you knew there was no way Dean could.

You passed the aisle with your cart and kept going, looking down the first, then the second…

“Dean!” You rushed forward, flinging yourself into Dean’s surprised embrace.

“Hey, what happened?” Dean was stiff and alert, whipping his head around to see what had spooked you.

“I couldn’t find you,” you whimpered, tightening your arms around Dean’s midsection. “I-I didn’t know where you went. Don’t do that to me!”

“Ok, ok hey I’m sorry,” Dean soothed, pulling away and kneeling down, brushing your hair out of your face so he could see you. “C’mon, what’s going on with you? What’s got you so spooked?”

You didn’t answer—you just launched yourself forwards and wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck, burrowing your head against his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” you pleaded.

“Ok, ok.” Dean held you closely, rubbing your back. “Ok I’m right here kiddo. Let’s get out of here, ok? Let’s go home.”

…

You held Dean’s hand in vice grip on the way out to the car, but he didn’t comment on it. He waited until you were safely bundled into the Impala to speak again.

“Kid, you need to tell me what’s going on here.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean glanced at you, but he didn’t speak again.

…

You were feeling lucky for most of the day—Sam and Dean spent the morning going through books in the library, so you were able to do your homework right next to Dean without warranting worry or attention.

“Check this out.” Sam’s words to Dean had you looking up curiously while Sam turned his computer around. “Looks like a case in town.”

Your heart dropped to your toes—you were too young to hunt, so a hunt in town meant that you sat in the bunker while the boys were out.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking about the case before they got ready to head out. Dean was throwing guns in a bag in his room when you went to find him.

“We’ll be back tonight,” Dean promised. “But if we find the thing that’s killing these people, it might not be until late, so don’t wait up ok?”

“Can’t I come?” Your tug on Dean’s sleeve stopped his movements.

“You know you can’t,” he said. “What’s going on with you? And don’t say nothing, because I know something’s wrong.”

“I just don’t want you to go,” you said. “Please De? Please don’t leave me here alone.”

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked.

You shook your head.

“Then I have no choice.” Dean sighed. “People are dying, and you can’t come. I have to go.” Dean zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We’ll be back before tomorrow.”

“Dean—“ you reached out for your big brother, but in one stride he was out of your reach, then to the door, then he was gone.

…

You were trying to read the same page over and over, but the words were swimming around the page, blurred by the tears in your eyes and the shaking in your hands that had the pages fluttering. You looked up for the millionth time, a deep pit in your stomach convincing you each time that the yellow eyes demon would be standing in your doorway, waiting to kill you.

You dropped the book on your desk with a thud, finally giving up on homework—you wouldn’t get anything done until Dean was home, you just couldn’t focus.

You picked up your headphones and slipped them over your head, but you found that not being able to hear your surroundings made your anxiety even worse, and the soothing notes of your favorite song did nothing to help for once. You tried turning on the tv, but you found that you couldn’t look away from the door for more than a few seconds before you started to get scared again.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore—you closed your room door, your bathroom, and even your closet; open doors just had your imagination running away with images of yellow eyes coming to kill you.

You burrowed yourself under the covers and tried to force yourself to sleep. Hour after hour you convinced yourself that you’d just never be able to sleep, but you didn’t have anything else to do but keep trying, so you didn’t move.

You were still laying there when the door opened.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted. You smiled at him, and he smiled back for a second before the smile faded. “Me and Sammy have another case—we’re gonna be gone a while, ok?”

“No, wait!” You tried to get up to stop Dean, but you couldn’t move. “Dean, don’t go! Dean don’t leave!”

He was already out the door, and in his place stood Azazel, pale yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Dean!” You screamed, but it was too late; your pajamas were already soaked in blood coming from a painful gash across your stomach. You whimpered, finally able to move as you wrapped your arms around the wound as if you could protect yourself. You couldn’t.

You were sobbing as your body lifted off the ground, your stomach lurching as you went from wall to ceiling. There was no warning spark, or small flame—you were just suddenly and completely engulfed in flames, your hair burning and your skin scorched. You were still screaming when Dean came running back into the room.

“Dean,” you whimpered. “Dean no!”

Yellow eyes had a knife in his hand, and he turned it on your big brother in an instant. As the fire burned around you, you watched as Dean got stabbed again and again and again…

You woke up screaming. The fire was gone, and so was the pain, but you couldn’t even tell. Your eyes couldn’t take in a single detail of the room—they were blurry and unfocused from sleep. Your brain couldn’t decipher what parts of your dream were real and what weren’t. You sobbed out short and shaky breaths, and your cries were just starting to fade into whimpers when you heard it; the loud thunk of the bunker door closing.

Your fears and your crying returned full force, and you were gasping for breath as you felt around for any kind of weapon.

He’s coming he’s coming he’s coming he’s coming…

It was like all you could see was Azazel as you heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. You wanted to do what Dean always did—push his fear down, throw away his emotions, and just fight—but you couldn’t. You couldn’t catch your breath, you couldn’t stop sobbing, and you couldn’t find your gun.

When your door handle started to turn, you thought you were going to pass out. Your already-unsatisfying breath caught in your throat, and with the lack of breath came black spots at the edges of your vision.

You forced a single deep breath in and out—you couldn’t be unconscious when the demon came to kill you, you couldn’t be that helpless. You had to fight, even though you would lose.

The door swung open, and you were still gasping for breath and grappling for any kind of weapon when—

When Dean walked in.

“Dean!” You were off the bed and in your brother’s arms before he had a chance to speak.

“Hey, hey what’s going on?” Dean’s arms tightened around you when he heard you sobbing and felt you shaking. “Baby what happened?”

“Don’t leave me,” you begged between sobs. “Don’t leave me De, don’t leave me.”

“Ok, ok I’m not going anywhere,” Dean promised. “N/N I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?” Sam walked into the room, staring at his siblings with concern.

“I…I think we’re ok here,” Dean decided, carrying you to your bed. “You should go bandage that cut, I’ve got her.” When Sam hesitated, Dean assured him, “I’ve got her Sam.”

Sam finally left, and Dean climbed up on your bed, settling you into his lap when you wouldn’t let your vice grip around his neck go.

“I need you to talk to me,” Dean pleaded. “I need to know what’s going on, what this is.”

“There was fire,” you whimpered, your tears soaking Dean’s shirt. “There was fire, and it burned everywhere, and I was bleeding and I was on the ceiling, and-and yellow eyes stabbed you, and—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Dean started to rock you back and forth subconsciously. “Hey, how do you know about all that stuff.”

“I’m sorry.” You were sobbing again. “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I read his journal and he wrote down everything and I thought it would help but…but now I can’t stop dreaming about it. I’m so—I’m so scared, De. All the time.”

“Shh, shh you’re ok,” Dean soothed, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I’m right here. Listen,” Dean tried to pull away so he could look at you, but you just tightened your grip. “Ok. I used to have nightmares about mom, too. All the time. I still get them sometimes.”

“You do?” You sniffled. “What do you do about them?”

“Well now it’s easier, because we killed yellow eyes. He’s gone, N/N. Nobody’s ever gonna die like mom did again, especially not you. You know that, right?”

“The dreams feel so real,” you answered.

“I know, I know they do. But they’re not. And I’m gonna help you through this, but kiddo, I can’t be around all the time, you know that. I’ve got a job to do.”

“O—ok,” you sniffled. “I can do better.”

“But I’m still gonna be here when you need me. I promise.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you right now.”

Dean’s arms squeezed impossibly tighter around you.

“Then I’m here for you.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[moonstruckme]

hi lovely! can i request sirius taking care of sick reader?? where he's really sweet like total fluff!!

have a good day/night!!

Hey gorgeous, thanks for requesting! Hope you have a good day/night as well <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 940 words

“Can I just say,” Sirius says, leaning against the bathroom wall, “that this is the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a testament to your hotness that I’m still attracted to you right now.” 

You laugh, and it makes a bit of water come out of your nose, splattering into the sink. Though the bathroom mirror is fogged up from the hot shower you’ve just sat in, you have an idea of what you look like right now, and you’re inclined to agree that it’s a miracle anyone could find you attractive like this. 

You’re wearing the same bathrobe you’ve been in all day plus a fabric headband to keep your half-damp, frizzy hair away from your face as you bend over the sink, trying to flush out your sinuses with salt water. Your face is flushed and dry, your lips chapped, and your nose turned an agitated color from tissue overuse. 

“Are you sure?” you ask Sirius, taking another tissue from the nearly empty box. “You could leave me, I wouldn’t blame you.” 

You blow your nose. It makes a gratifying, horrendous sound, and Sirius’ mouth pinches. 

“Charming,” he mutters, but moves closer to you. “No, I’m afraid I’m in for the long haul, sweetness. After I catch whatever it is you have, no one will have me anyway.” 

“A cold,” you remind him, wincing as you wipe your raw nose. 

“Sure.” You don’t turn around, but you can practically feel the uplifted eyebrow directed at your back. “You done with this part for now?” 

You hum, letting Sirius take you back to bed with a hand curled in the fuzzy material of your robe. For someone who gripes about how sick he’s going to get so often, he sure hasn’t been holding back on the physical contact this past week. He pushes you down onto your bed, settling in beside you. 

“I know it’s good for your snot or whatever,” he says, low enough you think he might be talking to himself, “but I don’t like you sitting in that hot shower when you’ve still got a fever. I’m freaked you’re gonna pass out on the bathroom floor, and we both know my reaction time isn’t quick enough to keep you from cracking your head on the tile.” 

“I���m not gonna pass out,” you sigh, though you do let your eyes slip closed, succumbing to the exhaustion that seems to find you every time you stop moving since you’ve been sick. 

“Mm,” Sirius hums discontentedly. You hear him twisting the cap off of something, and when you open your eyes he’s reaching for your face. You stay perfectly still as he cups your cheek in one hand to steady himself, using the other to smear vaseline onto your chapped nose. 

You sniffle. “I could do this myself,” you say quietly. 

“Obviously,” Sirius murmurs, “but I haven’t been much help, so let me have something to feel like I’m contributing, okay? I promise I’ll ask you to do tons more when it’s my turn to lay around.” 

“You made me soup.” 

“That was a box mix, babe. When I’m sick, I’m going to want chicken noodle made from scratch.” 

You want to point out that chicken noodle soup isn’t all that difficult to make, but you stay quiet. 

You wonder if Sirius can feel your heartbeat with his pinkie tucked under your jaw like this, if you’re giving yourself away. It’s always nerve-wracking having someone this beautiful look at you, worse when you know you’re not exactly at your most winsome yourself. But Sirius’ touch is nothing short of adoring as he soothes the cold jelly onto the burning parts of your nose. He’s looking at you with a tenderness you wouldn’t have been able to picture when you first met him and yet suits him perfectly, gray eyes gone soft and quiet like the sky after a storm. 

They flicker up to you, catching something in your own expression. “What’s wrong?” 

What’s wrong is the unbelievable fondness of his thumb as it coasts down your cheek, the way he blows lightly on your freshly moisturized skin once he’s done with the vaseline, cooling it. The gesture is half teasing and half sincere, evidence of a thoughtfulness he doesn’t often show and almost never admits to. You think that if you were to tell James the other boy would probably bug your room with cameras to try and catch it on film. 

Sirius brushes a piece of hair behind his ear. “Does something else hurt, baby?” 

“My eyes,” you whisper, pressing your fingertips to the skin underneath your eyes to show him. You can actually feel your sinuses crackling when you apply pressure. “They sort of ache.” 

He makes a terribly lovely cooing sound, stroking your cheek and bending to press a kiss to your forehead. “Be right back,” he promises you. 

You close your eyes as he goes into the bathroom. There’s not much point in keeping them open when your boyfriend’s not here to admire. You hear cabinet doors opening, the faucet running, and then your mattress dips again. 

“Keep your eyes closed,” Sirius murmurs, settling a warm rag over your eyes. 

You sigh, the relief is so instant, and you hear him chuckle quietly. 

“God, I love you,” you say. 

“That feels rather conditional,” he replies. “Would you love anyone who warmed up rags for you and made soup out of a box?” 

“I think the real question is, could I love someone who I say ‘I love you’ to and they don’t say it back?” 

“Fickle.” Soft lips press to your cheek. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Fun Kind of Sparring

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x Reader

Minors do ¡NOT! interact. This is not for you.

A/N: I haven’t seen the Boys and won’t BUTT that finale, amirite??? So in honor of the glorious return of Jensen Ackles, maybe the finest man who’s ever existed- seriously, when the aliens invade, show them him and they’ll be besotted by his beauty- I wrote this for all y’all SB lovers. Just note that I do not endorse any of this man’s actions, and if you do… the fuck?

I think it goes without saying but this is not my picture, it belongs to EW. (Too tired to make icons 💪)

Anyways, icons by me and all interaction-especially commentary- is appreciated!

Content/Content Warning: straight filth. The mouth on this man is crazy. Diddle that skittle.

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

It really had just been sparring. A little one on one, if you will. Me and Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy and me.

If it were anyone else, being pinned down to the ground would be the opposite of erotic. It would be annoying, and I’d be flailing around, trying to hit my partner in the balls.

But with Soldier Boy? We’d been skirting around each other since The Boys broke him out. Well, that’s a lie. I’ve been skirting around him, he’s made it more than a little obvious that he’s into me. I don’t know if it’s that he just wants a quick lay or what, but because I’m unfortunately attracted to him, I don’t really care.

Especially right now, when I’m pinned under him on the gym mat.

“Y’know, we shouldn’t do this,” I stall, no meaning behind my words.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he humors me. His lips are mere inches away from mine, his hair falling against my forehead. And I think I’m drunk on the scent of his pungent aftershave.

“I mean, you’re like, what, 103?” I ponder aloud, trying to distract myself from the fact that the Soldier Boy is rested over me in a plank, shirtless. That I can feel his warm breath on my face. That it smells like peppermints.

“104, actually, sweets,” he corrects. He’s had this shot-eating grin plastered on his face since he managed to wrestle me down, because like me, he knows exactly how this is going to end. But unlike me, he’s not remotely hesitant about showing it. And because he’s a jerk, he’s making me make the first move. But I’m not ready quite yet.

“104, right,” I mutter. “Older than my grandpa.”

“Smart girl,” he just goes along with everything I’m saying, letting me stall. The mischievous glint in his emerald colored eyes never ceases.

I nod slowly. “You are a very attractive grandpa,” I state, my tone far away as if I’m talking about him while he isn’t on top of me. Ohhh do I want him on top. You know what I mean.

“Thanks, sugar. But I think I’d prefer ‘Daddy’ if we’re going for the titles,” he says cheekily, still making no moves. I on the other hand am blushing the brightest red. Between the nicknames and Daddy, it’s too much to handle.

“O-oh,” I stutter, swallowing thickly. “Noted. But, uh, aren’t you more into… more mature women?”

“I believe all women are mature. I don’t discriminate, sweets,” he says, his shit-eating grin somehow eating more shit.

“Very feminist of you,” I say sarcastically.

“Damn straight,” he agrees.

I bite my lower lip. “You’re very experienced, right?”

“Not to toot my own horn or anything, but yes, I’d say so,” I can tell that he can tell that I can tell that this is volatile, just moments from going somewhere.

“Okay, so I guess my last question is this: how would you go about it. Y’know? With someone that you hypothetically wouldn’t treat as someone you paid for? That you’re sort of friends with?” I have to know. I’m too nervous for him not to lay it out plain and simple for me, I need to mentally prepare myself.

“Well, firstly, I think I’d have to know my girl likes it,” he gives me a pointed look.

“Your hypothetical girl,” I correct.

“Sure, my hypothetical girl,” he agrees. How has he not broken a single sweat this entire time? He’s been in a plank over me for the last however long it’s been and it doesn’t even affect him??

Quit getting distracted.

“Maybe she likes it rough. She wants to feel it for a few days,” I suggest, feeling my stomach knot at the notion. I’d been consistently growing wetter since he put me under him, and my arousal shows no signs of stopping.

“Okay, so I’d give it to her rough. Work her up until she’s begging for it… maybe I’ll- I mean, I’d- use my mouth first, taste her pretty pussy before I get my dick wet.” It’s all I can do not to moan at the dirty words falling out of his plush lips. Not to mention his honeyed transatlantic 50s accent… I’m so fucked. In so many ways. “Probably get her to come at least once, cause I’m sure she tastes as sweet as she looks.”

“Uh huh,” I mumble, the sound coming out higher than it should as I look at him with wide, attentive eyes.

“Don’t get me wrong, even before then I’d be marking her up and down. So that way everyone can see who made her feel so good, who got her walking so funny,” he backtracks. And again, the notion is far too good to be true. But the promise in his voice? It’s real. “I’d have to get her ready for my cock, stretch her out with my fingers. Start with one, but she’d be so wet that that wouldn’t even do anything. She’d be begging for more if I just did two, so I’ll give her three, make that needy cunt happy,” he muses. And it’s so, so erotic. And I’m ready to just lean up and kiss him, make him do all the things he says. But I’m captivated by his words, his narration- I think I could come from it alone. “I don’t know if I’d let her come again then. Because I think she’d be begging for my dick with how good my fingers feel stuffed in her tight pussy.”

Mother. Fucking. Hell. Oh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He shouldn’t be real. These words should be banned from his vocabulary, because I am on fire right now.

“Where do you think this hypothetical girl would want me to come?” he asks out of curiosity, smirking. Probably at the way I’m looking at him like a bitch in heat.

“In her,” I mumble.

“In her where?” he asks smugly, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it.

“Ben,” I whine in protest.

“Oh, c’mon, tell me,” he chides. “For the sake of the story.”

“In my-her-pussy,” I answer in a breathy whisper.

“Good girl,” he praises, and it’s all I can do not to keen. I have to be soaked through my shorts by now, there’s no way. “Well, what I’d do next… that’s simple. I’d fuck her until she cried, and then I’d keep going. And I’d keep going until the only thing she can remember is my name, until she’s gooey and clingy and a sweet little fucked out thing, all for me,” he finishes, his grin from before returning back to his face. I’m losing it. I can’t think straight. And yet- he’s still waiting for me to make the first move. Son of a bitch.

“O-okay,” I clear my throat, unable to find my senses. “And if that hypothetical girl was me?” We both know it’s me, I just need to hear it.

“Well in that case I think I’d be the luckiest bastard who ever lived,” he says sincerely, looking at me with a gaze that can only be described as pure adoration and lust. Yep. That’s it for me. I lean up and kiss him with as much force as I can muster.

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

In the meantime… want more Soldier Boy?? Try Taming The Supe <3

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[9:16 am]

(cw: course language)

Dating Jeno was like a dream. You knew it was early, 2 months to be exact, but you were fairly certain he was the best man ever. He was sweet, thoughtful, he listened, he was funny, and he was handsome. He took you on dates that you could tell he put effort into, he gave you gifts just because he was “thinking about you,” and got you flowers weekly. What wasn’t to like about him?

You had just seen him the night before, he had invited you over to his so he could cook for you. His excuse was that he’d been wanting to try out a recipe, but it was too much for one person. He’d listened to you talk all night about your annoying boss and how she went on and on about anything under the sun. She made it impossible to make or take calls with her roaming the floor and talking. She tried too hard to be friends with her employees.

He had had glimpses of her before when he came by to pick you up for lunch or picked you up from work. She was always the first one to the door, twirling her hair and batting her lashes. She tried flirting and didn’t even try to hide her frown when he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“And I saw that little boy toy of yours yesterday! He was out and about during lunch yesterday and we had lunch together! You’re not mad right? According to what I’ve heard he’s not your boyfriend yet…” you heard her annoying voice, but she wasn’t talking to you, right?

You turned in your desk chair, “are you talking to me?”

“Yes! Jeno, your little boy toy! He’s a real cutie, a real gentleman. I can totally see what’s so attractive about him. We sat and talked together and got carried away. I was almost late,” she laughs.

You give her a fake laugh, claiming you have work to get back to while turning to face the computer screen. Instead of working, you mull over her words. On one hand yes, you and Jeno weren’t official or exclusive in the fact that you hadn’t discussed it, but you had assumed you were. There was also the fact that when you asked him about his lunch he had been very short and moved on as if it were nothing.

Had there been signs that you missed before? Were there moments that they shared when you weren’t around? Were there hidden moments? God, this was putting you in a downward spiral.

She was still stood near you when you heard an unfamiliar male voice. “Uhhhh, flowers from Jeno?” He asked.

As you moved to identify yourself, your boss squealed, reaching for the flowers. She pulled the card from bouquet and began to read out loud, “I had the greatest time seeing you yesterday. I can’t wait to spend more time with you. Love, Jeno. He’s so sweet! So sorry you had to find out this way, but I need to go put these in some light. Get back to work.”

The rest of your day was awful. Maybe he had sent those to her. Maybe he liked her more than you. Maybe he was two-timing you.

From there your anger grew and grew. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. His texts made your anger boil and bubble inside you to the point where once you saw him standing alone in the lobby of your workplace you walked right past him.

“Hey! Wait- hey, where are you going?” You heard Jeno’s voice as he followed after you.

You turned, your voice cold while your emotions were heated, “if you liked my boss you could have just said that instead of stringing me along. I know we never talked about being closed off, but at the very least I deserved to know you were seeing another person inside my office!”

He held his hands up, as if in surrender, “I don’t- I’m not seeing anyone but you. Can we talk about this?”

You groaned, running a had over your hair in frustration. You exhaled, calming your feelings, “my boss came in this morning and told me that you guys had lunch together. That you were such a gentleman and she totally gets what I see in you and that you spent the whole lunch talking and getting to know each other.” Your voice breaks as you keep explaining, “and then flowers were delivered that said you enjoyed your time with her yesterday. It’s just- I wish you had just told me.” You loon away from him as your eyes fill with tears and you desperately try to blink them back.

Jeno gives you your time to breathe and cool off before he speaks. “Babe, I didn’t get lunch with your boss. I happened to be at the same spot for lunch to pick up my order and while I was leaving she walked in. We did that whole awkward stepping the same way over and over again, and I greeted her just to be polite. I asked her how she was, but I didn’t have lunch with her. I don’t like her, she makes me feel weird and gross when she talks to me and I think she’s the same age as my mom, that or she has really bad work done.” You laugh at that and he smiles explaining even more, “the flowers were for you, babe. I have the receipt, it has your name on it as the recipient. They were supposed to be your weekly bouquet and that’s why the note says what it said. I don’t want to spend time getting to know anyone but you.”

“God, I hate that bitch. I’m sorry I assumed,” you exhale deeply, feeling an immense weight off your shoulders.

He pulls you into his chest for a hug, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “it was an unfortunate mess of coincidences mixed with delusion from your crazy ass boss. It’s the last time I’ll use a delivery service too, all your flowers are coming right from me.”

“You still want me after I made that horrible assumption?” You ask with a playful tone, but the nerves in your stomach have yet to calm down.

Jeno smirks, tsking nonchalantly, “if anything, I want you more. Something about you getting jealous, a little possessive, that’s hot.”

You shove him lightly, leaving him behind as you begin walking home again. You can hear him laughing and his steps as he runs to catch up to you. His arm wraps around your shoulders and he presses a kiss to your temple while you both dodge the other people trying to get home. He takes your bag off your shoulder and smiles at you warmly, “I didn’t think we really had to talk about it, but in all seriousness I do like you a lot. I don’t want to see anyone but you.”

“I like you a lot too,” you smile back, “so what? You’re like my boyfriend now?”

“Nothing would make me happier, and you should report your boss to HR. She’s a total bitch.”

[weirdkpopgirl]

Sulky | Jeno Imagine #12

Title: Sulky

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mildly suggestive, a little making out towards the end

Word Count: 952

Author's Note: Alright, I know I literally just posted something for Jeno a few days ago. But this idea was just living rent free in my mind, and I just couldn't resist writing it. I know you guys like this stuff too, so I thought writing this couldn't hurt. I'm Jaemin biased, but Jeno is just so cute especially when he's sulky. Anyway hope you guys like it ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

Now, it was no secret to anyone that Jeno got sulky easily. When you two first started seeing each other, you found it quite funny how things could so easily hurt such a tough, masculine guy. Of course, you’re usually able to provide him with enough reassurance to make him a smiley puppy again. Teasing your partner was never in your nature. But you’d occasionally step out of character just because Jeno’s reactions were hilarious.

The two of you were lounging on the couch in his apartment’s living room, mindlessly scrolling through your phones. You paused when you came across some photos from his recent concert. While you admired how fiercely handsome your boyfriend looked on stage, another member unintentionally caught your eye.

“Wah, Jaemin looks amazing in that stage outfit,” you remarked, showing him the picture. “I can’t imagine all the screams from fans when they saw his abs.”

Jeno glanced at the photo and shrugged, his expression unchanging. “I mean, it’s nothing new. Everyone knows Jaemin works out, so I don’t think that many people were surprised.”

At first, you didn’t even notice your boyfriend’s lack of interest in the subject, too preoccupied with scrolling through more photos of his attractive member. In fact, you found his comment a bit hard to believe.

“No, but the lighting from the stage makes you see how perfectly defined and sculpted his abs are!” you said in awe, as you came across a close-up picture that a fan had taken.

Your boyfriend’s grip tightened on his phone, and he shot you a sideways glance. To him, it was almost as if you had forgotten he was sitting right beside her. 

“My stage outfit showed my abs too, you know,” he muttered.

The hint of sulkiness in his voice was something you caught immediately, and that's when you realized he was jealous. Although it wasn’t your intention to make him feel this way, you couldn’t help but find the pout on his lips adorable. Deciding to push his limits just a little, you feigned obliviousness to his growing discomfort over your sudden interest in Jaemin.

Leaning back on the couch, you sighed. “Well yeah, but I’ve already seen your abs plenty of times. Not that I find them boring now, but…”

Jeno’s pout deepened and he whined softly, his jealousy now clearly evident. You bit your lip, stifling a laugh because he was just so endearing like this. However, your innocent teasing soon backfired. 

Determined to make his point, he sat up and lifted his shirt, revealing his own well-defined abs, a testament to his consistent workouts. Before you could even say anything, he grabbed your hand and pressed it against his firm stomach with an intense gaze.

“Tell me, who do you prefer,” he demanded in a dark yet calm voice. “Jaemin or me?”

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and your breath slightly hitched at the sudden contact. Feeling the ridge of his muscles beneath your fingers quickly brought out your instinctive shyness. You rarely saw this possessive side of Jeno.

“Jeno…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. You searched your brain for something to say, but you were too flustered to find the right words.

“That’s what I thought,” he interrupted, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

Before you could pull away, Jeno leaned in and captured your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips were soft yet demanding, a reminder that you belonged to him and him alone. As the moments passed and his lips showed no signs of moving, you closed your eyes and gently placed your hand under his jaw. One of his hands was already on your waist and as he felt you kiss back, he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss with a tender urgency. 

His lips moved against yours hungrily, the only sound of the room the soft smacking of kisses. The kiss deepened, and you felt his tongue gently part your lips, exploring with a slow, deliberate intensity. Your lips molded together, warm and yielding, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. The subtle, rhythmic movement of his mouth against yours was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but respond with equal fervor.

When you finally parted, you needed a moment to catch your breath. Jeno’s gaze remained fixed on you, silently seeking reassurance, his eyes revealing a hint of vulnerability.

“Of course I prefer you,” you replied, looking at him as if the answer were obvious. “Jaemin’s visuals might be impressive, but you know I only have eyes for you.”

Jeno’s grin widened, and he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you back to your previous cuddling position. “Good,” he said, sinking comfortably into the couch cushions with you.

Soon after, his tone turned playful yet still a bit possessive. “But I’m still putting you on a Na Jaemin ban from now on.”

The lingering sulkiness in his comment made you want to roll your eyes. But instead, you laughed and rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You knew that protesting would be useless, and he’d get over it eventually.

Yet, you also knew that what you and Jeno had was unbreakable. With how much you two loved each other, you were inseparable, no matter how sulky he got.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[thragedys]

Clear Mind

Ren x Fem Reader

REBOOTING...

Synopsis: With many dreadful thoughts lingering on your conscience, you have been experiencing trouble regarding trust in the people close to you. With the news rambling on about murders and the everlasting feeling of eyes glaring at you, you’re close to breaking. You can’t shake that forever-present paranoia alone.

Word count: 2.3k

Includes: Ren x Fem Reader, comfort, Ren being sweet, establishing a relationship, smut, oral, cunnilingus, kissing, clothed orgasm

A/N: Ren is too cute! I had to write something about him.

It was strange—his behaviour. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, the constant jitters in his facade. Your emotions are constantly changing. At this point, you are uncertain how you feel towards Ren. Part of you pities him and wants to remain his friend, but the other wants to get as far away as possible. Miles, perhaps a new city. However far your legs can take you.

He hasn’t done anything to harm you. He would never. His protectiveness, however, disturbs you deeply. How he told your friends he was your boyfriend without the slightest hint of hesitation, the way he’s so effortlessly affectionate and intimate. If you’re able to clear the air with him this evening, there will be no more worries remaining. Other than the uneasy sensation of a set of prying eyes burning through you every passing moment. 

You blame your neighbour, Violet, for that unnerving sense of paranoia. She just had to mention she witnessed someone exiting your apartment. Someone you weren’t aware was in there in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three gentle taps against your door. It’s Ren. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you stand to your feet, legs wobbling as you make your way to answer. Pulling down the handle, you take a deep breath and gaze up at the lanky figure before you.

“Hi! Is everything okay? You look… Ill?” Ren pats his hand against the side of your face and you huff, feeling guilty for ever suspecting anything of him. Awkward people tend to shift their behaviour when around new individuals to avoid getting embarrassed, that’s likely his reasoning.

“I just need to talk to someone. I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently.”

“Told you that you could stay at my place whenever you wanted, didn’t I?” His smile was soft, raising the bag of goodies he brought with him. “Can I come in? It’s food and a few other things.”

…

“Wow, you don’t look well at all… Are you sure you’re okay?” His concern grows as you snap out of your trance, opening the door further for him to enter.

“I’m scared, Ren.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything— everything for that matter.”

“I swear I saw someone outside of my window a few days ago. I don’t know what they were doing, but I saw them. Hardly anyone is ever out there.”

“Hmm? Were they looking your way?”

“…I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine! Don’t stress over it. We can talk about this after we eat. You need to get some food in you.”

Pulling out the boxed portions of food, he slides yours over and begins digging into his own, keeping a keen eye on you while you nibble at your meal. Even though you can’t shake the impending dread, you regain your appetite after seeing he purchased your favourite for you.

Now you feel a little bit better. You push any food waste aside and notice how he immediately goes to dispose of it, taking care of your duties inside of your own home without you having to ask. Ren was a sweetheart.

“How do you want to do this? Lying down, sitting, standing?” He taps his fingers against the tabletop, his eyes filled with worry as you space out yet again.

“Do what?”

“Talk. I wanna hear everything you have to say so you can get it off of your mind.”

“Oh, the sofa will do. Thank you for coming over.”

“No need to thank me! I’m happy to be here, so happy to be with you. I missed you so much.”

Not quite catching the last part of his sentence, you sink onto the sofa and rest your head against his arm. You pour your heart out to him, unsure if you’re overstepping by not holding back — but he did tell you he’s here to listen. And he did. 

When you finished listing off your worries, he hummed and squeezed you tighter, now realising that during your full confession, you somehow ended up in his embrace. His nose is pressed into your hair, one hand stroking up and down your back, hushing you as a few tears slip from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, Angel… You’re safe, I promise.” Judging from the tone of his voice, you can tell he is hurt by how upset you’ve been. “I’m here for you. Do you want to stay at my place tonight? Clear your head, get away from all those thoughts.”

“I can’t hide from my fears forever, Ren.”

“Then you’ll have to let me fight them off. I’ll beat up the bad guys for you and the bad thoughts.” He raises his fists playfully, locking eyes with you as you lift your head.

“Are you sure you could handle them?”

“Easily! Oh, I forgot to ask…” Ren murmurs, twiddling with the fabric of your shirt. “I am allowed to stay over, aren’t I? I brought my essentials, so…”

“Of course. I’m going to use the bathroom; you can go get yourself comfy.”

“You’re the best! I’ll be waiting for you.” He springs to his feet and wanders off into your bedroom, leaving you to tend to your nighttime routine.

Applying the final step of your skincare, you pat your face and yawn. It has gotten quite late, you’re starting to wonder whether Ren fell asleep without you. Entering the bedroom, you spot him sitting on the edge of the bed, as though he was seriously waiting on your command so he could lie down. His eyes sparkle when they land on your figure, and his arms open.

“Snuggle?” He flutters his eyelashes, his blue eyes boring through yours as you sit on his lap.

“Sure.”

“I checked outside of your window. I looked everywhere I could and saw nothing suspicious. I might have scared them off.”

“Maybe you did.”

“Do I get a reward?”

“Do you deserve one?”

“But… I protected you! I made sure any scary people left you alone. They won’t dare try anything while I’m here.”

“I was teasing you, Ren.”

“Oh…”

“You’re such a good boy. You do everything you can to help me.”

“Don’t say things like that…!” His face lights up a bright shade of red, eyes snapping to the side to avoid your gaze.

“Why are you so cute?” 

“Dunno… Why are you so beautiful? You are an angel. My angel.” Ren trails off, propping himself above you while your body is crushed to the mattress. “Mine.”

Your face is held in his palms, his eyes laced with nothing but adoration as they analyse you. He was tracing every detail of your face, trailing down your body, and stopping in their tracks when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his turtleneck. As he redirects his gaze back up to your face, he notices how your hand sneakily wrapped itself in his hair and edged him closer towards you.

He can never get used to this. The way you kiss him first destroys him. If he wasn’t desperate enough before, he is now. After recollecting his thoughts, he nips at your bottom lip and grants himself more access to your mouth, taking control from here. His pretty girl shouldn’t have to put all the work in.

“Can I…?” Ren mumbles into your mouth before pulling away, the string of saliva keeping you both connected. He twangs the waistband of your shorts, his index finger tracing swirls on your exposed stomach.

“Yeah…”

“I’ll be gentle. I know you haven’t been feeling your best, so let me do everything today. I just wanna take your mind off of things. I want you to be happy again.”

“I am happy when I’m with you. You make me feel safe.”

“…?” Ren halts, his hair brushing against your leg as he stares up at you from between your thighs.

“You mean a lot to me, Ren. More than you think. You drop everything for me when I need you most—no one has ever valued me that much before.”

“It will always be you above anything else. Nothing will ever be more important than you.” He slides down your panties, revealing the mess before him. 

“I love you.” Ren uttered, planting kisses down your inner thigh.

It went unheard, exactly as he was hoping it would. His words were mumbled as he delved in between your folds, his tongue exploring you frantically as if it were his first time. Your cunt was familiar with him now. His tongue traced the shape of a heart on your clit, then repeated similar motions until he watched your eyes flicker shut.

“Keep them open, please…” Ren laces his hand with yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

He wants you to watch everything he does, wants you to remember who made you feel so good.

Your hips buck forward, accidentally pressing yourself even closer to him. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you firmly in place while he savored your taste. No other reward could compare to this. The thought that you were this wet because of him riles him up. He made you this way, no one else. 

Slipping two fingers into your entrance, he remains gentle like he had promised. He was relishing in your reactions, slowly bringing you closer to an orgasm, then taking it away by altering his rhythm. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to cum for him—it’s that he doesn’t want this to end. For the past few days he hasn’t seen you face to face; he had craved this exact encounter.

Your walls tighten around him, an indicator that you won’t be able to hold on much longer, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s lost in your taste, entranced by the way you push yourself against him, allowing him to ravish you as if you were his last meal. The longer he goes, the sloppier he gets. Due to the grip you have on his hair, it became quite messy—the strays flying freely.

“I’m so close, Ren…” You whine, letting his name roll off of your tongue a few more times. Your eyes have grown hazy, unable to take them off him.

“Then cum for me. It’s my reward after all…”

Hearing his words pushed you, causing the cord building intricately inside of you to snap. You muffled your moan, forgetting the time and the likelihood of your neighbours attempting to get rest. The last thing you need is a visit from security due to a noise complaint. Ren pulls back, sliding his fingers from your cunt and wiping any fluid that smeared on his face away.

There was something odd about him. Whether it be the dark lighting or that look in his eyes—there was a different energy surrounding him. He likes the fingers that have been inside of you, sending a shudder down his spine. 

“What…? Do you want a taste too? I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.” Ren pouts, extending his fingers to brush across your lips, smearing your slick across them.

“You’re looking at me all funny. Is there something wrong?” Ren’s once smug demeanour disappears, his hand patting his face while you shake your head.

“You’re so handsome. I’m so lucky.”

“…!” Ren leans forward, his breath hitching as if he were in disbelief.

“I was jealous when that girl was all over you in that store. Really jealous. I don’t know what we are or if we even are an official thing, but I know I would love to be your real girlfriend.”

“Angel…” Ren murmurs, utter disbelief upon him as he tries to get his words out. “You’re going to make me cry— in a good way… A really good way! I never knew—”

“Can you stay over more often?” Your eyes water, locking with Ren’s teary pair.

“I’ll stay over whenever you want, all you have to do is ask. I can’t believe this is actually… Do you know— Ugh. I can’t get my words out, why now?” Ren mopes due to his poor communication, but your chuckle grants him enough reassurance to continue trying.

“I was hoping you felt the same way I did, but I didn’t want to force anything on you. I’m sorry things have been so confusing between us. If I would’ve known, I would’ve made it all so much clearer.”

“Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

“I suppose… but, if you want the truth, we already were a long time ago in my mind. My eyes have only been on you. They always will be. They always have been…”

“Hm?” You rub your thumb over his knuckles, curious to hear what he said.

“Nothing, I’m just rambling on, typical me…” Ren beams, nestling his head down onto your chest. “It feels nice to know you’re only mine now.”

“Did you think I wanted anyone else?”

“No… but! That doesn’t stop people from wanting you. They can’t have you, so I win.”

“You seem very proud of yourself.”

“I am. I’m an even prouder boyfriend knowing you’re the one I have.”

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Ren lifts his head, his brows furrowed.

“I didn’t have the chance to give you any pleasure.”

“I had lots, don’t worry. Seeing you like that was enough for me.”

“Did you…?” You raise an eyebrow, squinting your eyes as your inquisitive nature piques.

“…” Ren’s cheeks light up, already aware of what you are insinuating. “Well— Yes! How couldn’t I? You’re just soo pretty, and you were moaning my name in that whiny voice, and—”

“It’s okay; you don’t need to explain. Do you want to clean yourself up?”

“M’ too sleepy. I’ll take a shower in the morning and sort everything out then.”

“I’ll make sure to wake you up nice and early with me in that case.”

Accepting defeat at the early rise, Ren groans and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His body is sprawled out on top of yours, his limbs snuggling you tightly. There is no chance of you escaping him in the night with his sheer strength, you would need to be plied off of him to be free again. Before you know it, your eyes unwillingly close and your heart sinks with his, blissfully falling into a slumber together.

[oddlittlestories]

Thinking about Cuddy.

House is a genius. I’ve written about how Wilson is equally talented.

But Cuddy is, too.

One of three(?) female deans of medicine in the country. One of the youngest. And every time the spotlight turns onto her, she does things no one else can do.

She has a kid by herself. Wilson points out that a man in her position would have a wife, two nannies AND two assistants. (She tries to hire an assistant and the job is so demanding they quit regularly.)

She consistently gets things for the hospital no one else can get and is the trump card only she can play. In 5 to 9, she gets (I think) 7%, which is far and away better than her opponent, her board, or anyone else but her thought she could get.

In season 1, iirc it’s implied SHE brings in Vogler, and she’s the only person who can stop him when he starts tearing the entire hospital apart to get at House.

In season 3, she ends the nonsense with Tritter.

She’s also the only person who can and will keep House on her team (no one will hire House or Foreman, other than her). And she’s the only person who can wrangle him, canonically (I disagree with canon, but Cameron does hand the reigns back to Cuddy with this exact statement). Moreover, she makes House an ASSET. In 5 to 9, she explains that PPTH is on the cutting edge, which includes their world famous ddx department.

And! Despite the fact that House routinely accuses her of being an administrator and not a doctor anymore, she still successfully treats patients from time to time. She helps ddx the babies in Maternity. She saves her patient’s baby in Fetal Position. In s5 Joy, she clocks that something is wrong with the mom when no one else does, and pushes until the diagnosis is made and saves both their lives. She figures out the diagnosis in Joy to the World at the same time as House, and is so kind and respectful to the folks caring for the baby, yet still makes sure she gives the baby what she needs.

I have to admit that I don’t remember s7-8 well enough to go through those, but it’s clear to everyone that Cuddy is a great doctor. Much like Wilson, she gets dismissed in part bc she gets too emotionally involved. And it’s also clear that no one really understands her work or how good she is at it. Everyone only sees their part, and she has to see all of it and make it all fit together, making sure everyone gets what they need. Her ability to flip between caring and hardass undermines her ability to seem tough, but it’s also necessary. If she couldn’t care, she wouldn’t take such good care of her people or patients. If she couldn’t toughen up, she’d let people walk all over her. It’s a unique style, and not without its pitfalls, but it’s all hers.

And like Wilson, she doesn’t get seen as a genius. In fact, she barely gets acknowledged as smart at all. A lot of her successes come from charisma and social intelligence. And those things often get dismissed in women, especially women who care as deeply and obviously as Cuddy does. The ability to juggle so many things gets dismissed as “basically being well-organized,” and also, no one really SEES what she does. It sometimes takes her a minute, but she reads people like THAT. She figures out and outwits that sociopathic drug dealer. She sees through most of House’s lies. She often settles with plaintiffs because of guilt, but she also often talks them out of suing the hospital in the first place.

Cuddy is just as good, and just as brilliant, at her job as House and Wilson. But she doesn’t get seen as a genius anymore than Wilson does.

[skylarsblue]

✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.

[disneyprincemuke]

how you get the girl * fem!driver

and when logan comes in with a girl on his arm, then what?

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver

notes: hi it was only a kiss was the beginning of the end for my locky soldiers i fear and here u go lOLSIE OXOXOXOOXOOXOXO

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

“did you see?”

she tilts her head, turning around with her eyebrows furrowed. liam has walked around the barrier of their garages, sauntering in with his hands behind his back. “seen what?”

liam blinks at her. he purses his lips and shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “nothing.”

“what do you mean?” she laughs, putting her ipad down. “was i supposed to see something? why are you being weird?”

“i think he means logan and his girlfriend walking into the paddocks together.”

just like that, she can almost hear the glass around her shattering. there’s a ringing in her ears and she turns to sebastian with wide eyes and puffy cheeks. “what?”

sebastian blinks at her, his clipboard of data in his hands. “you didn’t know? don’t you guys live together?”

she blinks rapidly, trying to come up with an excuse. truthfully, only 2 people ever found out about the events of new year’s day. one of those was by default, logan’s brother, and she’d pulled liam aside during their team trip to new york to confess and vent about the events of her stay in miami.

liam’s been sworn to the highest level of secrecy, and she’s appreciated the fact that he’s kept his word. he never brings it up unless she does it first.

which isn’t a lot.

“we uh,” she drops her head and turns back to her ipad as she sucks in a deep breath, “we’ve been kinda busy lately. i didn’t know he was seeing somebody now. i was in los angeles for a while during the break.”

“that’s,” sebastian trails off, “odd. is it still weird after what happened in montreal? i thought everything was okay.”

she looks up. “it is! everything is okay! we’ve just been super busy,” she rambles, “you know… i’ve flown around for d&g and a couple of fenty events. haven’t really had the time to sit down and have a chat recently.”

sebastian hums, unsure if he’s fully buying her excuse yet. “i see. have you guys not gone to get ice cream lately?”

she shrugs and points at liam, “our schedules never really line up. sometimes logan is there, but not often. even then, there’s always something more important to talk about than our dating lives.”

liam finally clears his throat, making her eyes snap over to him. “let’s go? we’ve got an interview in a couple of minutes.”

she grins, turning to sebastian. she gives him a quick hug and hangs her head low before she follows liam back into the paddocks. “seriously? i didn’t know logan had a new girlfriend.”

“have you seriously not seen each other that you didn’t know about his new girlfriend?” liam whispers, looking around cautiously to ensure that nobody’s got the chance to eavesdrop on their conversation. he takes a step forward towards her and drops his head. “how do you feel?”

she pouts her bottom lip out with a shrug. “good for him, i guess.”

there’s no way that’s the only thing she has to say, right? “really? you’re okay with this?”

her eyes trail off to the crowd surrounding them, as if to really think over her answer, then turns back to him. “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?”

“you’re totally over the fact that you kissed on new year’s?”

“liam,” she scolds through gritted teeth, smacking his arm lightly. “you were sworn to secrecy.”

“i haven’t told anyone,” he throws his arms into the air, “but are you seriously okay with this? it’s just me — you can tell me if it bothers you.”

she tilts her head with a small grin. it’s endearing how liam is double-checking. but it’s been 7 months since they kissed. she’s kind of well over the fact by now. “i’m really okay. i’ve just been super busy. i flew in from los angeles right before touching down here. we haven’t really crossed paths in the apartment lately.”

liam pats her on the shoulder. “okay. but you can tell me anything, okay? don’t keep it in, mate.”

she smiles, “promise.”

max lifts his eyebrows, following the pair that’s just walked past him nonchalantly. his lips part in confusion as he then furrows his eyebrows and turns to the girl now approaching him. “was that logan holding hands with a girl?”

she follows his stare, tilting her head slightly. “yeah. i heard he brought his girlfriend to the race today.”

“you heard?” max scowls. “you didn’t know he had a girlfriend? aren’t you best friends who live together?”

she shrugs, “we haven’t seen each other a ton lately. we’ve been busy in our own right.” she puffs her cheeks out. “why is everyone so baffled that i didn’t know he has a girlfriend? he is a grown man!”

max puts his hands in the air as a small smile stretches his lips. “mate, relax. i was just curious. cause i thought you guys liked each other?”

“that’s crazy. where did you get that from?” she almost wants to laugh if it weren’t for the fact that max hit the jackpot with that guess. she only hoped that her wide eyes and racing heart didn’t give too much away. “he’s my best friend. with a girlfriend or not.”

max gives her a stare, one that tells her that he definitely isn’t buying her bullshit excuse. he lifts an eyebrow at her and sighs audibly. “really? you’re going to keep lying about you guys just being friends?”

she rolls her eyes. “your late-night gaming is taking a toll on you, i believe. you’re seeing things that aren’t there, max.”

“sure,” he snorts. “everyone can tell, by the way. alex, george… we know.”

she tilts her head and bats her eyelashes at him innocently. “i don’t seem to know what you mean.”

“that you and logan, at some point or another, liked each other,” max explains. “it’s only so obvious. mark my words, andretti racing driver, you guys are going to end up together someday be it in the near future or even it takes you years to figure things out.”

“you belong in a mental hospital.”

“rocky!” she feels a hand around her elbow pulling her back immediately, stumbling back a couple of steps with a soft yelp before she feels a hand on her back that steadies her. she knows that hand.

“why did you have to yank me like i’m an animal?” she whines, shaking away logan’s grip on her. “what do you want? i have a team meeting i’m gonna be late for.”

“i want you to meet somebody,” logan grins, stepping aside hesitantly. “ylona — my girlfriend.”

she tilts her head and into focus comes a slightly smaller girl compared to logan. slightly taller than her, tanned skin and the prettiest brown eyes she thinks she’s ever seen. ylona has her hands clasped in front of her shyly with a small and polite smile.

“oh, hi!” she squeals as her arm immediately darts out towards the girl. “i’m so sorry i just only got the chance to meet you now. i’ve been so busy — i’ve been out of the country lately.”

“yeah, i,” ylona laughs sheepishly and takes her hand, “i love your apartment, by the way. there’s no way you’re not an interior designer or something.”

she scrunches her nose. now, how is she supposed to hate someone as soft-spoken and lovely as ylona? she takes a deep breath, subtly looking ylona up and down. she’s just so pretty. “my younger sister actually helped with the apartment. i’d love to hang out with you after the day ends if you guys are joining us for ice cream?”

logan nods, his stare lingering on her in a way that she’s unsure what he’s trying to say to her. “of course. i’m not missing another ice cream night again in my life.”

“good!” she grins, patting his shoulder. “i’ll see you guys around. i’ve got to run.”

“who the hell is that!” alex barges into her room, george following suit as she takes sips from the drink in his hand. “when did logan get a girlfriend?”

she looks up from her phone, baffled at the comfortability that the older drivers have found in her hospitality home. especially her driver’s room. “you know, just because sebastian gives you guys immunity in the andretti hospitality doesn’t mean you should take advantage of it.”

“who is that girl? how did they even meet?”

george points at her beanbag, looking at her innocently as if to ask for permission. she nods and beckons him towards it before turning to alex. “i don’t know. i only just met her today.”

“like it’s so– what? you just met her today?”

“you also just met her today?” george pouts his bottom lip out, unsure if he should be concerned or impressed at logan’s success in hiding a secret from her. “how weird.”

“it’s seriously not that weird! we’re adults with our own lives!” she scoffs, returning her attention to her phone. “she seems lovely if you ask me. very pretty, very polite.”

she’s just opened her phone to send a message when it disappears abruptly, alex taking it into his hands and slipping it into his back pocket. “you’ve got to tell us more. there is no way you found out today like the rest of us peasants.”

she shrugs with a soft laugh. “i really have got no idea when or how they met. i’ve barely hung out with logan since we were in barcelona for the spanish gp. i’ve been frequenting los angeles a lot recently.”

“what are you doing in america instead of oxford with your family?” george scowls. “the fame’s gotten to you, mate.”

she rolls her eyes. “i’ve got sponsorships i need to show up for. seriously, it’s not that serious. logan’s 23 — let him have his girlfriend.”

“she is very quiet too, actually,” alex hums, dropping himself on the bean bag, and squeezing in with george, who scowls and pushes him away slightly to regain his space. “i don’t know. do i like her?”

george furrows his eyebrows. “logan isn’t your best friend. why are you speaking like that about his girlfriend?”

“hey, she’s going to be in the garage for a while. i have to make sure it’s an environment that i feel comfortable in.” alex looks to her for some support. “you get what i mean, right?”

she shrugs. “i guess you have a point. but you know… you can just ignore her if you don’t like her, alex.”

“it’s not the same though,” alex sighs, dropping his hands in his lap. “promise you’ll tell me when you find out more about her?”

“why don’t you just ask logan yourself?” george asks.

“he keeps running away when he sees me,” alex frowns. “i think it’s because i keep asking him if he likes rocky. i guess it’s not a good look if i keep asking that when his girlfriend is around.”

“you twat, why would you ask him that at all?” she scolds, hurling the small stuffed animal next to her towards alex. “such a stupid question to ask!”

alex catches the stuffed animal and chucks it right back at her. “i’m curious! for the record,” he rolls his eyes, “he avoids that question too!”

“that’s just stirring up the pot when you don’t have to, alex!” she hops off her massage table and runs over to where the 2 men are, arm wound back to hit the thai driver. “you’re so annoying! what is your problem?”

“i was curious!” alex screams to defend himself. “if you hit me, i’m telling james and he’ll never let you into our building to see logan.”

“i won’t have to. he’s got ylona now,” she points out before turning on her heel. “do you guys wanna go grab some coffee?”

“i know, i know,” oscar whispers, “it’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? i can’t believe he didn’t tell us.”

lily nods, leaning on the wall of the mclaren’s racing home as they await their friends so they can leave to get some ice cream. “i can’t believe even rocky didn’t know.”

oscar raises his eyebrows in shock. for him to now know, is one thing, but for logan’s literal roommate to not know of ylona’s existence until today? that’s just weird and even borderline off.

from the corner of his eye, he sees the young driver approaching them, typing away on her phone with a small grin on her face. he furrows his eyebrows and hits her gently on the shoulder as she comes to stop in front of them.

“what?”

“you and logan are being so weird lately,” oscar confesses. “seriously. what happened between both of you in the united states?”

she blinks at him. “nothing. we were just busy.”

“not spending valentine’s day together is one thing. but you didn’t even know about his girlfriend? you usually know everything,” oscar whispers, looking over his shoulder to make sure that logan’s not anywhere close to them. “what’s going on?”

“i’ve just been very caught up with my own things lately,” she laughs, putting a hand on oscar and lily’s shoulder. “relax. nothing happened between us.”

but she swears that there are some nights that she can feel logan’s lips on hers. it drives her crazy, actually. “relax. let’s just get ice cream and get to know her. it doesn’t have to be weird.”

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