#and i still think they could do a good job of it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherspastries · 2 days ago

Note

Cher!! I love your writing and you aesthetic so much :)

You’re a graphic designer yeah? What driver do you think would work well with a graphic designer reader, and on that note, what occupation do you think each driver’s s/o would have?

And do you do emoji anons? 👀 If so can I be 🫧?

I LOVE HER AS SHE IS,

DOING HER THING!

WORK IT!

2025 Grid x Reader

SUMMARY 𐙚 What jobs I think each driver’s girlfriend would have + how you first met.

WARNINGS 𐙚 Fluff, reader is described with feminine terms, mentions of alcohol / handling alcohol, not proofread

WORD COUNT 𐙚 6.3K

A/N 𐙚 Hi!! Tysm I love my theme, and yes I do accept emoji anons! Hello 🫧 !! Also, before I actually write, I love all the WAGs and respect their jobs, but I wanted to romanticize this a bit so… All the drivers are getting hypothetical new girlfriends with weird and interesting occupations and personalities

DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN

RedBull ෆ

Max Verstappen

Bartender

You cannot convince me this man isn’t always in need of a drink. Whether he’s celebrating or he’s upset, Max likes a good gin and tonic. Sure, he can make his own, but nobody makes it as good as his lovely girlfriend: a bartender. That’s right! He met you at a club in Monaco, of course. It was after he had won a grand prix, and he kept coming back for more and more alcohol until he was blackout drunk. You had to call him a cab home, and he kept mumbling about how beautiful and perfect you were. When he came back to retrieve his lost phone the next day, he apologized and properly asked you out.

But it’s also nice because Max’s favorite way to relax with you is to lay across the couch, drink in hand, and watching a show you both enjoy. He doesn’t want to overwork you, but if you offer to whip something up real fast, he’s definitely not going to say no to your hard work and encourage you to keep doing what you love. Side note, I genuinely think he loves being able to party at the club you work at. He loves getting to enjoy a night out, but also being able to visit you whenever he wants. His friends have stopped wondering where he’s ran off to after they found out who was behind the bar. They shouldn’t be surprised when he disappears every five minutes to go chat you up again. Sometimes regular patrons give him dirty looks because they think he’s hitting on you inappropriately, but then you flash the matching set of rings and they simmer down.

Yuki Tsunoda

Seamstress

I’ll be honest, I was unsure about this one, but I honestly think it makes a lot of sense. Yuki has really good style, so I had a feeling his partner should be related to fashion. However, seamstress was a bit of a stretch. I think you’d make a lot of clothes for him, which is why he has such great style to begin with. He’s wearing handmade, high quality patchwork hoodies and jeans and shoes that you decorated yourself, all made by you! So yeah, whenever someone compliments his very fitting form of fashion, he lets you know that the people are certainly admiring your work. Do we all remember when the internet went crazy over Yuki wearing his RedBull shirt unbuttoned? Yeah. All you.

He first met you when you were still just a fan. Some might argue the dynamic seems inappropriate, but you were never a huge fan of him specifically. Just… An F1 fan. You sewed shirts for the RedBull team, and they weren’t the typical tacky wear that the team usually received. These had lots of thought and enthusiasm put into them— He could only imagine how hard and how long you have slaved away making those, so he wore it with pride… Even if it was a tad bit too big. After that, he kept seeing you in the paddock, communicating with various engineers and drivers, collecting autographs like it was your job. He complimented your work, you introduced yourself, and the rest was history. So yeah, you ended up falling for the irresistible charm of Yuki Tsunoda, and honestly who can blame you?

Mercedes ෆ

George Russell

Graphic designer

Yes, okay. This is my line of work, and I honestly believe George would be the most supportive for a graphic designer out of everyone. I mean, he at least thinks he knows fashion and technology, so he assumes that he’s being helpful. I can see the two of you being high school sweethearts that pursued different paths, but stuck together. Of course you knew George was into racing at the time, because he was karting even back then, but you never expected him to reach such fame. He even managed to get to a job with the FIA, designing graphics for winners and podiums and such, so yeah. People have been silently appreciating your work for years. You’re the one who gets to see all the unused winner graphics.

Whenever you’re working on a project, you consult George. Even though half the time you don’t listen to his advice, it’s nice to get somebody else’s opinion and support. You know he’ll be honest instead of giving you that “it’s perfect the way it is” bullshit, so his unfiltered opinion is just what you need to get a sense of what the right direction might be. He used to sugarcoat it, but you eventually told him that his honesty wouldn’t hurt your feelings, and he started to be more open. Not that it was rude, because his opinions were still helpful and polite! He always tops it off with a kiss and a wish of good luck. He knows you’ll make the right decision.

Kimi Antonelli

Tutor

Alright. We all have fun joking about Kimi needing a math tutor, but what if he doesn’t. Because his girlfriend is one. You know? You’re still in school, just like him, so you make a lot of money by people paying you to help them out in classes. Yes, Kimi needs a nerd girlfriend I feel it in my SOUL. Now, contrary to popular belief, you actually don’t tutor him. Why? Because he gets distracted by you very easily. He can’t stop looking at your pretty eyes, your plump lips, and your soft hair. All he wants is to bury his face in your neck and lay on top of you 24/7/365, because you’re so soft and warm. So no, you don’t tutor him. You can’t tutor him. You’ve tried. You’ve failed.

He brings you to the Imola Grand Prix, happily showing you off and introducing you to all of his track mates with that huge boyish grin. He tells them all that you’re just his tutor, and that afterwards you’ll be in his drivers room teaching him the pythagorean theorem (which he doesn’t even know how to pronounce in any language, mind you, so he’s just stumbling over syllables to get the idea out.) You correct him and politely let them know you’re actually his girlfriend. They all tease him, insisting that this whole story was just an excuse to sneak you into his room for a cheeky make out session, which you both quickly deny with flushed cheeks and slight stutters. Looks like he’s been caught before he could even try.

Ferrari ෆ

Charles Leclerc

Fashion designer

Now this isn’t to say that Charles doesn’t already have good fashion sense, because he definitely does. However, I do think that after the two of you started dating, there was a noticeable change in his choices. He started to dress in a manner that was suitable to his… Well, everything. He had custom made clothes with logos pertaining to him on them, everything matched his face and body shape, and he was dressed to an absolute T. All thanks to you! He doesn’t even have to ask, you just quietly sketch up designs for jackets and shirts that he can proudly show off at races, and you’ve even helped him customize merch that is both affordable, and fits the aesthetic of most of his fans. Goodbye trashy t-shirts with a logo lazily slapped on, and hello well thought out designs.

You were definitely hired to design some of his merch after the team saw your concept sketches. He was completely clueless to your arrival, but once he saw you he knew there was something irresistible that surrounded you. Your aura was undeniably attractive, and you were a genius when it came to your job. Of course. He loved your sense of fashion, so Charles discreetly asked you out to go get coffee and discuss things some more. Except, the two of you ended up talking and laughing the entire time, so of course you had to reschedule. And then you had to reschedule again because the same thing happened. Then finally you realized what he was doing, and asked him out on an official date. From then on, he proudly showed you off as his girlfriend. No more hiding!

Lewis Hamilton

Makeup artist

Yes, both of the Ferrari boys have their fashion girlfriends. I think if they existed in the same universe they’d be really good friends, too. I think Lewis loves to listen to you rant about different qualities of makeup, and how different makeups can affect break-outs on skin, and how to prevent all that. There’s a lot that goes into your line of work, and he never gets tired of hearing it. I think his favorite thing is hearing you talk about different color palettes and how you decide what colors suit a client best. You’ve definitely done similar things on him, and he stays true to your advice and tries to mix those colors in to his outfits. He also refuses to hire anyone but you to do his makeup for events, and he brings you everywhere he can. Trust that you were attached at the hip during the Met Gala, and that he was announcing to everyone he met that you did his makeup, and how talented you are. Watch out because you’re gonna have so many clients coming your way.

Unlike Charles and his girlfriend, you were not hired to work for him when you met. It was actually more of a meet cute— He was asking for advice in your local beauty shop, because he figured you looked like you knew what you were doing and could tell him what the correct shade of blush was for his niece, who was clinging to his side. You were in awe because holy shit, the Lewis Hamilton was asking you for advice, which you gave while stammering to an embarrassing extent. He thanked you, and asked for your number with the excuse that he might need more advice in the future. You did not hesitate to give it to him, and while he didn’t call for advice, he did call to ask you out properly. Your dynamic is very much so “girlfriend who knows a lot about fashion and boyfriend who pretends not to so he can hear her ramble.”

McLaren ෆ

Oscar Piastri

Food critic

Oh yes, the two of you are most certainly bonding over a shared love of food. Oscar Piastri doesn’t present himself as a foodie, but it’s more of a hidden pleasure of his. I won’t lie, when you first mentioned your occupation he thought it was somewhat funny. Reviewing food for a living seemed like something simple. He took it at the base level ideation and assumed that’s all it was. However, when you got really invested with talking about it, Oscar was quick to learn there was so much more. You discussed about different types of recipes, and methods when it came to baking. You ranted about cuts of meat and how each one had its own taste. With your influence, he quickly became quite the enthusiast himself. So, every time you guys went to a restaurant, you both ordered something entirely new to compare and contrast to past dishes. It was fun getting to try new things with you.

When you first met, it was in a restaurant. One of those crowded places where you ended up shoulder to shoulder with a random stranger because of how busy it was. For you, that random stranger ended up being famous racer Oscar Piastri. Although it was awkward at first, you sparked up soft chatter about the meal. He told you he was having the same thing he always did: pasta. You explained your meal, which was exotic to the both of you. When you expressed your disinterest in the taste he teasingly asked what made you so qualified to comment on such a thing. That’s what he found out. Intrigued by your charm, and your passion for all things food, Oscar couldn’t help but ask for your number.

Lando Norris

Teacher

Lando, in my firm opinion, is fantastic with children. He’s a little immature himself, which gives him that natural charm that makes getting along with children easy. He has no troubles throwing on that enthusiastic tone that lights their brains up. One morning in particular, Lando’s dear friend Max had a huge favor to ask of him: Take Penelope to school. Kelly was out for work, and he was running a high fever, which meant ‘Uncle Lala’ was on duty for the day. Admittedly she was a little late, and she showed up with a smoothie from Lando’s favorite coffee shop and a brand new pair of shoes. While he’s good with kids, he’s terrible at saying no. He walked the young girl into her classroom, and he damn near lost his mind. You were perfect— radiant, kind, soft-spoken but not timid. The dream girl that mirrored him perfectly. Even though you playfully scolded them both for being late, all he could focus on was how beautiful you were.

From that day forward, Lando made it painfully clear that something was up. He offered nearly everyday to take Penelope to school, which Max and Kelly would not complain about. She always returned with a huge grin on her face, recommending that her uncle take her again because he was so fun. However, when she started talking about the flirty comments he’d exchange with her teacher, they realized why he was suddenly taking an interest in the life of their child. Lando loves hearing about your day and listening to the various interactions between the kids in your class. He’s smitten with you and your ability to flawlessly interact with children— Unfortunately this means your relationship is destined to be filled with baby fever from you both. 24/7.

Aston Martin ෆ

Fernando Alonso

Wedding planner

As expected, you meet at the wedding of a mutual friend. You planned everything from the venue to the number of flowers in each arrangement, and both the bride and groom were eternally grateful for your help. It was always much easier to have someone else do a majority of the planning for you while you got to sit back and nod along to every suggestion made. In short, your efforts paid off immensely. When you sat down at your assigned table, you were surprised to see the Spanish man in question not far behind you. He seated himself across from you, reaching a hand out to shake yours politely. He was charming right off the bat, his flirty comments flowing with ease. You almost wondered if you were intentionally set up to sit beside this guy, because your fun-loving personalities matched up nicely. He matched your vibe and you matched his.

Now you were going 20 years strong, each anniversary celebrated more profound than the last. You were teased nonstop by friends and friends of friends about the lack of a ring on your finger. “Twenty years and he still hasn’t made it permanent?” was something you heard more often than you were willing to admit, but in all honesty, neither of you were interested in the concept of marriage. Your love was all you needed to seal the deal. You didn’t require a fancy ring to know that. But finally, after years and years of waiting, Fernando dropped down to one knee to give you the opportunity to finally plan your own damn wedding, and you happily accepted. You harbored no anger towards his decision to wait, because ultimately it made the experience a lot more special. You finally got to be on the other end of things and understand firsthand why people hire you to begin with: Planning your own wedding is not all it cracks up to be.

Lance Stroll

Author

Lance needs the peace and quiet that an author girlfriend brings to his life. He’s a well known introvert, which has yet to go unnoticed by anyone that he’s met. Lance prefers to keep to himself, and tends to distance from individuals who are overly loud. While opposites tend to attract, such an ideal is not the case for this fellow. He dreams of a romantically quiet life, and you’re there to fulfill that for him. You meet in the most cliche spot possible: a library. He’s not even that big on reading, but the spot was quiet and it gave him an excuse to brood in a corner and listen to music. You happened to be doing a book signing that day, which made the joint just a tad bit louder than he would have liked. However, when he saw you sitting at a table with a line extending outside the door, a cute smile on your face… Lance was utterly captivated. Your voice was low, your smiles were awkward, and your hands were trembling. Maybe it was weird, but that was everything he yearned for and more. When people started to clear and you started to pack up, he made a move.

Safe to say that said move was successful. The early stages of the relationship were less than ideal with both of you waiting on the other person to initiate every single thing, but finally you warmed up to each other and fell into a comfortable rhythm with your everyday lives. He cherished the days where he came home from loud engines and bustling crowds to the soft clicking of your keyboard, and the occasional flipping of pages. At the end of the day, no matter how stressful things get, Lance will always be grateful for the safety of your warm embrace as you hold him close to you at night. You’re his rock and his anchor, keeping him safe from the extroverts of the world. The media finds the two of you to be the ideal celebrity couple. Matching aesthetics, personalities, and beliefs. Your relationship is private, but it’s far from a secret!

Alpine ෆ

Pierre Gasly

Social media manager

I thought I was funny for this. You’re not a very good manager, because you’re always sitting there beside him, giggling at every post he scrolls by that’s related to him. With that being said, you always reach out and double tap the screen, liking whatever stupid thing had you guys giggling to begin with. So, to the people who wonder why Pierre is always liking every F1 related post, it’s actually your doing. You’re less focused on your actual job, and more on whatever content other people have managed to come up with. It’s really funny, in your defense. You guys first met because you were hired as the Alpine social media manager, but you always ended up laughing just a tad bit too much with Pierre over your ridiculous ideas that he kept building on to. Half the time you barely were able to execute said ideas, and ended up going with something entirely different.

Pierre loves that he found someone to match his energy and be okay with his teasing, along with tease him back. You’re fun— sometimes even more fun than him. Everyone in the paddock would agree. He loves filming videos and taking pictures with you for social media pages, and he loves even more than you get a little bit more freedom with his personal account and have directly spiced up all of his most recent content. Pierre fans have been wondering why most of his stuff has been a lot more enjoyable. Little do they know, you’re quietly working your magic behind the screen. Sorry Pierre, you get no credit. Although, having a hilarious muse does make it much easier.

Franco Colapinto

Florist

With this little flirt, knowing a lot about flowers actually proves to have some value. Franco’s always going out of his way to impress you: fact. He loves bringing home flowers, especially after triple headers, or just generally weekends that felt extra long without you right there beside him. It’s a new bouquet every time. While it is handpicked and arranged by him, it’s safe to say that Franco actually has no clue what he’s doing; his decisions are based off the initial beauty level of the flower. But, we can’t rule out that he intentionally picks randomly, because he does seem to love hearing you lecture him about flower language. He’s got roses being romantic burnt into his memory, but he can’t quite remember that yellow carnations are supposed to mean rejection. He does remember your face the day you brought them home, though, so he decides based on that. You sounded so sad as you explained the initial idea, and Franco was quick to make something up. So now, you guys decided they meant the love of Franco Colapinto— Yeah. He got his own damn flower.

You, as expected, had a meet cute as well. It came straight from a tacky hallmark movie. You had simply been arranging your outdoor stand one day, when a particularly fast biker flew by, clipping the edge of your stand and sending flowers flying through the air. You were devastated to see your hard work flying through the air and drifting away from you. Thankfully, one kind passerby stopped to help you pick up the lost work. He was handsome in his own, unique way. Somewhat familiar, you were sure. He laughed with you as he helped you set things back up, dropping a few flirtatious remarks that had your cheeks growing increasingly warm. It wasn’t until he dropped a joke related to racing that you picked up on it and breathed out a rather distressed, “Oh my God you’re Franco Colapinto!” He barked out a laugh and nodded to confirm your suspicions. He insisted you take his number. You know, just in case you need help dealing with a runaway biker again. It had nothing to do with the fact he thought you were the most beautiful person alive. No, no way.

Williams ෆ

Carlos Sainz

Baker

Get this man a beautiful baker girlfriend who can make him all the sweets in the world. No, but I did have a thought process for this. First date, he still doesn’t quite know that you’re a professional baker, so he’s going on and on about his incredibly pancake recipe when you mention that it’s your favorite breakfast food. You have a recipe of your own, of course, but you’re intrigued by the way he seems so cocky with said recipe, so you let him make you some when you visit him. And honestly, they’re really quite good! You’re considering replacing your own recipe. You repay his kind offer by baking him sweets— and I mean you really got busy in that kitchen, because you’re probably about to hand over 10 large containers full of sweets with flushed ears that tell him everything he needs to know. He’s a little embarrassed that he was ranting about his tasty pancakes to someone who makes them professionally, but he was happy to hear you sincerely liked them.

Now imagine Carlos’ embarrassment when he recounts how the two of you met to begin with. After a long night, he stopped by a local café to pick up a pick-me-up. You were there, but you weren’t behind the counter. You were standing off to the side, leaning over it as you chatted to the barista with a cup of coffee in hand. He approached the register, and you both paused your conversation so said barista could assist him. When Carlos pondered on a dessert from the display case, you very casually suggested that he take a croissant with that ‘trust me’ sort of vibe. He teases you— asks you what makes you a master of breakfast pastries, and you just shrug nonchalantly and tell him that maybe you have ‘insider’ information. He assumes you’re a regular by now, and accepts your suggestion. He gets the croissant. And your number. And a first date… And the embarrassment of finding out way too late into your relationship that you’re the damn baker for the café. That was your insider info.

Alex Albon

Veterinarian

The more obvious choice, yes. While I was afraid this might be too on the nose, I think it makes a lot of sense, really. He has a lot of pets. What does a guy with a lot of pets often do? He takes them to the vet. Alex already takes great care of his pets, so this visit was a little out of the ordinary. His cat had fallen ill, and he needed to get the proper medicine to care for her. But there was you, the newest hire at the clinic who seemed so good with his pet. You gave her treats to keep her distracted as you checked her out, ensuring the man that this was just a common sickness and would pass, but if he wanted he could slip some allergy medicine into her food next time. He was forever grateful. But then, suddenly his pets were falling injured or ill left and right. A man who rarely visited the vet was now becoming a regular, always coming up with some sort of concern. “Doesn’t her leg look weird?” “Nope, looks good to me.” You eventually caught on, and told him that at a vet clinic there was no rules against dating clientele. Now, there was rules against dating patients, but that was because your patients were animals.

He works well with your nonchalant charm. You’re easygoing and laidback, and that’s just what Alex needs. He appreciates having someone he can chill with because his life is often so chaotic that it’s hard for him to take time for himself. Therefore, he has you now. Plus it’s always nice to no longer have to visit the vet when you can now just stop by his house for a quick check up. It becomes even easier when you move in with him, because instead of being worried he can just rely on you to tell him when things are wrong and need to be taken more seriously. All in all, he found an absolute keeper, and the internet won’t stop encouraging him to put a ring on it to ensure nobody else does. Although, not sure anyone needs a veterinarian quite like Alex Albon does. So, I think he’s safe for now.

Visa Cash App Racing Bulls ෆ

Liam Lawson

Actress

I like to think you actually met when filming the F1 movie. You’re a background support character in the film, and Liam was just there to play himself, much like all the other drivers. You two managed to bump into each other, and it seemed like day to day conversations started to take place. You’d share a joke you heard while standing behind him at the coffee making station, or catch him up on the latest set gossip in passing. He was charmed by your wit, and you were charmed by the way he cluelessly fumbled over words around you. Imagine how surprised he was when you asked him out. He felt somewhat disappointed because he had been hoping to have that honor for himself, but he was glad that you reciprocated his feelings.

I think Liam with an actress girlfriend just makes sense anyway. He’s all for the drama you bring to the table, and loves watching every single film you star in, whether it’s a big or small role. He’ll go to every premiere, red carpet, and gala you’re invited to as your plus one. Not only does he love to show his support, but he also realized early on that he gets to meet a lot of his own idols this way. You have lots of connections, and he now has a stack of autographs from famous celebrities at home. It’s a win-win.

Isack Hadjar

Photographer

Your first time meeting Isack was actually a little chaotic. The team hired you to shoot some shots from the first practice on Friday. It was experimental, because it was their first time hiring you, and it was your first time working for a huge company, let alone shooting athletic shots. When it started raining, you hadn’t even noticed. You were so focused on capturing everything perfectly, and with the right settings, that eventually you were completely drenched without a care in the world. It was really down pouring. Subsequently, teams were pulled in from the nasty weather to dry off and warm up. You, however, were still perched in the stands out in the rain, laser focused on your camera. Isack, ever the gentleman, came out with an umbrella and held it over your head. You hadn’t even realized he was there until you felt his shadow cast over you. You looked up, and nearly dropped your camera. You were stuttering all like “Oh- It’s- Oh no, it’s you- Gah, I’m so sorry!” Which only confused him more. You explained you were meant to be taking shots of his team today, but all the ones you got were bad. You were better with portraits. He was stunned by you too. You were beautiful, even with your wet hair plastered to your face and your clothes soaking wet. So, with red cheeks himself, he invited you in to take some portraits, which would hopefully give you a chance at staying with the team. And you did! Which then gave him enough time to work up enough courage to make a move.

You’re a little scatterbrained, it’s true. Every-time you come to the paddock, you’re in a panic as you ramble about how you accidentally left your SD card at home in your laptop, and that your whole reason for coming was now ruined because you didn’t have a way to take photos. Isack reassured you that missing one race wouldn’t be the end of the world. Besides, he ended up finding your SD card in your purse when you asked him to grab your phone. You’re lucky to have found him, because he certainly helps keep you grounded. You’d probably have floated off into space without Isack there to hold you down and keep you steady.

Kick Sauber ෆ

Nico Hülkenberg

Sommelier

You were evidently flawless at your job. You knew everything there was to know about wine, and all of its pairings with food. It was an elegant and refined drink to be saved for fancy events, much like the one you met your beloved at. Your relationship has been in the making for about three years now, and despite its… Awkward start, the two of you have been developing nicely. There was an event for F1 drivers hosted at a vineyard, and you were hired to take care of the wine: a rather simple job. Famous people weren’t a surprise to you anymore, but as you were sharing with your audience the history behind the drink you picked out, you felt your breath leave your body in an untimely manner. That was when he walked in, stealing away your attention. Salt and pepper stubble, a lazy smile, and an appearance that screamed ��just woke up from a nap in the sun’ in the most endearing way possible. You, a normally charming and easygoing woman, were caught off guard and ended up muttering something stupid like “this wine is… fermented” followed by a nervous laugh, which cued your audience to chuckle along with you.

He teased you later. Of course he did, because how could he not notice the way you’d freeze as you quietly eyed him. When you were setting up glasses, he approached from behind, and you immediately turned around at the sound of his voice, which consequently sent one of the glasses flying. Nico, a man trained in his reflexes, caught it with ease that made your heart flutter. Thank God you managed to snatch him up, because nobody had ever made you feel such a way. It didn’t matter if he didn’t win on the track, because everyday he came home to the most beautiful woman possible, who’d shower him with lots of well deserved love. Plus, you always knew what wine would suit his mood. Yeah. He made the correct choice.

Gabriel Bortoleto

Streamer

We know how brain-rotted Gabriel is. You can’t tell me he doesn’t have a favorite streamer too. It’s you. Before you guys started dating he was a fan. He found your unique commentary on games to be interesting and the way you played— yada yada. Truth be told, he just thought you were pretty and funny. He even suggested through donations (under a secret account name, mind you) that you play one of the F1 games. With the money you earned from the donation, you bought it and showed the whole world just how awful you were. Gabriel secretly messaged you on instagram, claiming he had just found you when you were playing F1 24, and would love to come properly teach you how to play on stream. You agreed, of course. And it was a success. After the cameras turned off, he shyly admitted that he had actually been a fan of yours for awhile, because he felt bad for deceiving you. You just thought it was cute, and offered him the opportunity to come back if he so wanted.

Now, Gabi is a frequent feature on your streams. Not necessarily just as your partner in multiplayer games, but he can be seen on your face cam. Maybe he’s sleeping in the background, or he just happens to pass by. Sometimes he’ll even come give you a kiss in front of thousands of viewers, acting like he forgot you were streaming when in reality it was done intentionally. Sneaky bastard. Your fans love him, but Gabriel also loves to remind them that you’re a happily taken girl. You don’t mind anyway. It’s nice to see your longterm fanboy staking his claim in a way he thinks is secretive. Trust that you know… You always know what he’s up to. There’s no hiding it. Don’t be surprised if he starts spamming your chat with italian brainrot. Imagine having to explain to newcomers that it’s a regular thing, too.

Haas ෆ

Oliver Bearman

Artist

This is a pair nobody expected, to be honest. The Haas team was directed by PR to show up to an art event. Apparently the establishment was sponsoring them for the next race, and it was the polite thing to do. Oliver didn’t really care— He wasn’t a fan of PR events and media. He was outgoing and charming, but he tended to keep his life private for the most part. But he was glad he went, because when he saw you on a shaky ladder hammering in a stubborn nail with frustration, he knew you were someone to keep him on his toes. You had on overalls covered in paint. Some was fresh, but most of it seemed deeply imbedded in the fabric, like you wore them just to get them dirty. Your arms, too, were covered in colors. It was quite the sight. When you saw him, you dropped your hammer. Right on your foot, and then it tumbled down the ladder to fall unceremoniously on the ground. You hissed as you descended the ladder, jittery with excitement. You greeted him with a very enthusiastic handshake, announcing how you didn’t think he’d show up. You kept rambling, and he kept listening. Eventually you asked him if he could sit still, and he said yes, to which you replied with, “I wanna sketch you, then. You have this beautiful angelic vibe and I need that.” So, if that’s not forward I’m not sure what is.

It’s true. You’re his joy, and he’s your muse. And, for what it’s worth, Ollie was right. You certainly do keep him on his toes because he never really knows what’s next with you. You’re vibrant and fun and you love nature— The stereotypical small town girl who falls madly in love with a city boy. You like to run through tall grass barefoot and paint in the middle of giant fields whatever your heart desires, and now you’re dating Oliver Bearman. But it’s a good thing, because you both have changed each other in the best way possible, and even though you’re so different, you work harmoniously in a healthy relationship. You’re both happier than you’ve ever been, truly.

Esteban Ocon

Model

This man is TALL. He needs a tall girlfriend to sit by his side, and that just so happens to be you. You met at a huge gala for F1, where various other celebrities were invited to bring more attention to the sport. You’ve always been a fan, so you were glad to have the opportunity to meet a lot of the people you had admired for so many years. One of those people was Esteban Ocon. He was hated by his own community, regarded as one of the least likable people around, but you saw through that. This was a sweet guy with a bad reputation over one incident that took place many years ago. He was a bit surprised when you intentionally sat down beside him and introduced yourself with a huge smile and a delicate handshake. You were beautiful. It was almost too good to be true. He couldn’t let go of an opportunity like this, so he clung to you the entire night and asked if you’d be willing to see him again. Of course you would.

He supports your career through and through. He admires your skill, and all the thought that goes into modeling. It’s truly impressive. In turn, you support his racing career. You frequently feature his races, and while you do try to avoid the cameras, it’s impossible to not be featured when reacting on occasion. You have a loving dynamic— almost the perfect couple, and everyone in the paddock knows it. You’re the type of people to solve every disagreement by calmly talking it out. You’re the type of people to live by the rule “never go to bed angry.” You both get bad reps. In his community’s mind, Esteban is cruel and vicious and impossible to like. In your community’s mind, you’re stuck up and bossy and rude. So, together you make a perfectly misunderstood pair that understands one another. Delightful, right?

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 23 hours ago

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"GET WELL SOON!!"

MARK GRAYSON X FEM WB!READER

Bio: Mark got beaten up again, so you try your best to cheer up your sick boy. Based of this post

He's invincible for Christ's sake, so how does he get beat down like some D-tier hero? This sucks. It just sucks sitting down in bed with a broken leg and a fractured wrist. God, this sucks. It's just sucks. Everyone else is out fighting crime, and he's home watching dumb trash TV. He's about to lose it; if he doesn't get any action, he just might go insane from all the boredom. But he can barely get up, and his mom gave him specific rules not to leave the house when she's not around, and the other guardians are watching out so he won't leave bed. Ugh, this just isn't fair. It's just a broken leg and a bruised wrist; he can still kick ass, he thinks.

SLAM

"What the?" Mark sits up but instantly feels lightheaded from all that lying down. "Do not fear, fellow citizen, for Invincible is here!" you yell, wearing your signature yellow, blue, and black costume, flexing your very non-existent muscles at him with a big smirk. "I am here to cheer you up," you say with a wink, hitting him with some corny finger guns. Mark let out a surprised laugh; he couldn’t believe his eyes. This was probably the worst impression of him ever, like when parents hire a fake Spider-Man to come to their kid's birthday party. But he'll play along; plus, you really do look good in that suit. "Wow Invincible showed up to cheer up little ol' me," he chuckled, covering his mouth with his good hand.

"Yup!" you said confidently, pointing at yourself with a grin. "I'll do whatever you wish," you said, doing a little spin for him, making him laugh a little bit more. But you see, saying you'll do whatever he wishes was your very first mistake; your second mistake was not letting him check you out in this little invincible suit. "Oh really? You'll do whatever I say and some more?" he questioned, rubbing his chin with a good hand. "Well, that wasn't what I—" Oh, what the heck, he's bedridden; it's not like he could do anything. "Yeah, that's actually what I meant. Your, dear Invincible, will do whatever you ask!" Big mistake, huge.

"Can you do a little spin for me, Invincible? I want to see the suit; I mean, I never got to see it up close." You felt a strong surge of pride, and you couldn't help but do a little spin for him, slower than the first one, so he could see everything from the front to the back, the way it hugged your curves so nicely and how stretchy the material was so that it wouldn't be too tight. There were some parts that were a bit too tight, like around the chest area, but it was no biggie. Mark let out a whistle, watching it, which just boosted your ego more. "You like?" You did a dynamic pose for him. "Oh, I love it!" You couldn't control the little giggles that escaped your lips. "I made it myself. I wanted to wear it to a convention, but I felt this was better." Lies, you really made it for him. "Well, you did an amazing job, baby. I mean, Invincible," he said with a soft smirk on his face.

You sat on his bed, just for him to pull you into his lap. You keep forgetting how strong he is, even when he's half-broken. "Are you sure you can hold me? You're still a little... well, broken," Mark frowns and flexes his very existing muscles. "Does this look broken to you?" You wanted to laugh and blush at the same time. "No, sir!" You saluted him. "Good girl. Now, can the great Invincible show me her secret identity?" he said, gently rubbing your hip in a little circle, just for you to shake your head. "Nope, secret!" You giggle, "Not one peak," you shook your head again, and Mark makes a mock-upset face. "UGH! You're not fun. How about this: why don't you take care of me, then?" he asked, a wicked little grin on his lips. "Like what? I could make you something to eat—" Then his lips were pressed against yours. Oh, that's what he meant.

Mark's way of kissing was kind of like conquering you, if that made sense. His arms were wrapped around you, pulling you closer until you were both chest to chest. He devoured you with one kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, needing you, drinking in every whimper and gasp while letting out heavy breaths of his own. Then you heard a rip followed by a tear; his hand was clawing at the back of your suit, ripping it like confetti. "H-Hey, quit that!" But he didn't; he kept on ripping like you were some Christmas present waiting to be unwrapped. He had ripped the front and the back of the suit, making you pout. "You could have just unzipped it." It took you so many nights to make this. "Sorry, sweet thing." He wasn't sorry; you could see it in that devilish smirk. "No panties, huh? Invincible..." And here comes your shame: "It didn't look good because of the panty lines," but to be honest, it really didn't look good with the panty lines either. "Or you were planning this." His fingers flicked your clit, making you gasp, and his thumb slipped between your folds, feeling your wetness. "Definitely planned." He acted so cocky, like his cock wasn't throbbing at the idea of you in a custom-made hero suit just for him. "Come on, Invincible, why don't you cheer up your sick boy?"

"M-Mmh-" his hands were practically glued to your tits; even with a broken wrist, it didn't stop him from grabbing and pinching just to make you smirk as you bounced on his cock, barely even taking him in. Your mask was already lifted over your head; he needed to know your "secret identity." It was actually an excuse to see your cute little fucked-out expressions, like how your eyes would roll to the back of your head if he bucked his hips while you were riding or how you let little tears leave your eyes when overstimulated. "F-Fuck, baby!" you whined, feeling him fuck into you mid-ride. You pushed his hips down to stop him from bucking again. "Y-You asked me to take care of you," soft pants left your kiss-swollen lips. "Let me do that; you're hurt." He let out another needy whimper; it was getting harder and harder for him to keep control of himself when you looked so cute like this, with little baby hairs sticking to your forehead from sweat, how your hips always stuttered just a little when you tried to grind down on him, and the way you let out small curses in between when he was just too much. So Markus sat back and watched the view of his little Invincible.

But a part of him didn't like how you were doing all the work, his pretty girl, so why not help you just a little? And by a little, he means a lot. He wrapped both arms around you and pulled you closer to him so the two of you were face to face. Both of you let out pathetic little "ahh ahh ahh" sounds as you fucked like rabbits in heat. Mark bent his good leg up so he could get a better angle, hitting that spot that left you quivering. You tried to get out of his grip but remembered he's the hero here. "F-Fu... my g-god... y-you're so... w-warm... and... tight, shit!" He bit his lip hard; just feeling you was enough to make him cum, but he had to hold out. "Fuck!" He looked to see your blissed-out face. "God, you're so pretty like this," he breathed, nipping at your lips, trying to pull you into one of his very sloppy kisses, and it worked like a charm. You felt him grip your thigh, a sign that he was close, but at the same time he was moving, there was no way in hell he was pulling out or letting up on his pace. He moaned into your mouth, his cock twitching as he came inside you, thick hot ropes of cum painting your insides. "I-I really did like the suit," he choked out in between gasps, just for you to slap his chest; there was literally no suit left.

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el4ise · 1 day ago

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I’M GONNA SHUT YOUR MOUTH, PUNK!

feat. ⤷ lads li’s x reader

genre / cw’s ⤷ fluff, swearing, lads guys get MAD esp caleb :'p

✦ you were just mindin’ your own business when someone calls you out. oops.. bad idea!

𝗿𝗮𝗳𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗹

you were at the beach with rafayel, he offered to take pictures of you since you were wearing the bathing suit he’d bought you, which he thought you looked insanely good in. he told you to just be yourself, and instruct him if you needed to—he knew he wasn’t the best photographer. this wasn’t his form of art anyway.

“raf, could you tilt the camera a ’lil? yes like that! okay... now uhm, move to the side a bit- okay good.” admist your small instructions, rafayel’s eardrums bang to the sound of a man commenting. “gosh, that woman’s a commander. it’s just a picture why try that hard? ha! so annoying.” you wondered why rafayel suddenly stopped and dropped the camera down.

the voices of the waves covering the man’s inappropriate comment. suddenly, rafayel storms at his way. the man turns around, confused as to why a sudden purple haired boy is marching at him, before he could react, his ears were suddenly pinched & twisted— hard. his comrads could barely react either, not knowing what to do.

“for your information— her instructions are clear and precise. photography is a form of art that isn’t made with just a few simple clicks. I suppose you don’t know that since your brain is too fogged up meddling with others. bastard.” he lets go of the guy’s ear, looking painfully red.

he then grabs your wrist and gently drags you away. “c’mon cutie, i’ll mame thomas set a schedule for us. I’ll do a whole photoshoot of your beauty.”

𝘀𝘆𝗹𝘂��

he took you to a shoe shop, letting you pick whatever heels you wanted. though he wonders why you wouldn’t just tell him to buy everything. all of it looks good on you anyway. still, he lets you pick the right one.

“what do you think about this one, sy? it has a red bottom which I love, but this other one.. has the higher heel I was looking for! but not the red bottoms. I don’t really know what I should pick.” you show him both the heels, he gives out his opinions. “why not get them both, sweetie?” you pouted. “I don’t like having many shoes.. it’s hard to pick for a certain occasion. so I just want one.” he nodded.

“jeez. indecisive people are so annoying. why can’t you just pick one? it’s not that hard.” he hears the saleslady speak, and he suddenly gazes to her, one that doesn’t need any words. she stills in her spot, a sudden shiver runs down her spine.

“the way your mouth runs is like cutlery grinding on a plate. it irks me how brash you talk about my wife yet you can’t even afford one of these even if you wanted to.” you gasp at sylus’s sudden defense, you sigh though— he defends you without a doubt. “let’s go, kitten. this brand was far too cheap for my liking anyway.”

𝘅𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗲𝗿

he booked a 5-star hotel for the both of you since there was a day-off at the hunter’s association— and the next day is a saturday. you were politely asking for some things to be added in your room.

“uh yes, we’d like an extra comforter on the bed, a few more bathroom amenities, since he forgot his. and a pair of home slippers. oh and we’ll order our dinner a little later. thank you so much!” you then go and check your purse, checking if all your stuff are there. the front desk lady then sighs, mutters something under her breath, among the lines of, “jeez so many requests, how annoying.” one that went unnoticed by you— but definitely not xavier.

“excuse me, is there a problem?” xavier speaks up, catching the attention of both you and her. “from what it looks like you’re the person at the front desk. so, it’s your job to tend to our requests and why are you acting like this is your first time? my girlfriend told you politely and I ask for you to attain to that nicely as well..” his speech made the lady freeze in her position. unable to act. “..or we’ll find some other place that’ll treat us well– and i’ll have a word with your manager.”

𝘇𝗮𝘆𝗻𝗲

you were waiting for zayne to finish up some documents at the hospital. phone on speaker as he listened to you talk. “..just please hurry up, okay? I miss you.” he lets out a hum, “mhm. I miss you too, darling.” suddenly he hears one of the interns mumble. “pfft. that kind of clingyness is annoying.” thankfully the sound was too quiet to be heard on call by you, but zayne wasn’t having it. “.. actually, I’m done here, honey. I’ll be home in five. love you.” he says before hanging up, hearing your quick “wait, huh-” reaction. as he packed his stuff and marched towards the door, his eyes glanced to the intern with a cold glare. one that made him shiver.

when he got home, he showered you with so much affection. it made you curious. “why the sudden affection, zayne?” you giggle as he peppered your cheek with light kisses. “mm, nothing. I jus’ love your clingyness s’much.. thought i’d return the favor.”

the night went on with zayne spoiling you. the next few weeks the intern wasn’t to be seen around akso ever again.

𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗯

he treated you to an arcade date after finally becoming caleb-the-boyfriend and not caleb the big bad colonel. you’ve spent around 5 minutes on the same claw machine— trying to get the green & red apple plushie that was holding hands. it reminded you of him and you.

you were already pouting, sulking because of the amount of tokens you’ve spent attempting to get that damn plushie. you whine, “ugh! I’m so upset claw machines are so rigged! I hate this.” you hear a man scoff from not far out, “god girls and their silly tantrums these days are so annoyi—” before he could continue, he felt a strong force pull his lips shut. “god ignorant strangers these days are so annoying. don’t ya think, pips?” he glances at you, then back at the guy with a dark gaze. you could only gulp and grip caleb’s hand, gesturing him to stop. he then stops his evol, the man rubs his mouth in relief. he pulls your wrist and drags you. “c’mon pipsqueak. I’ll treat you to ramen.” you nod, thankfully you didn’t see the last look he spared to the guy. muttering “you should be lucky my girlfriend told me to stop or else, you wouldn’t be able to talk for the rest of your life. "+

tags ──── @nishikio, @jeondyy, @ruenaie

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amypihcs · 2 days ago

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A-HEM.

Beautiful art OP! I might've tripped and written something for it <3

Biggest thanks to @fruitviking for the setting: Just post Three Garridebs!

Hope you like this lil thing!

In my arms

John Watson smiled softly, his eyes focused on his husband’s form as he locked their door and finally let his coat fall to the floor.

“Come here, handsome man.” He called, consciously relaxing his posture.

Holmes’ posture got immediately more rigid as he turned on one heel, eyes sharp and concern all over his face.

“John...-” He started.

“Calm down, my dear fellow, I’m not dying yet. – Smiled Watson interrupting him. – Now, why don’t you come here and lie down? We’re both awfully tired and we both could use a few hours of sleep.” He proposed, his eyes drinking in the long, thin form of his husband.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Asked the detective tentatively.

The doctor smiled sweetly, patting the bed at his side. “Absolutely, my darling. You’re here, what could I want more? Come here, darling.”

Holmes sighed softly, approaching his husband and sitting where Watson had told him to. “John…” Was all he could say, as his husband cupped his cheek to caress his sharp cheekbone with his thumb.

“You don’t have to worry Sherlock, my heart. I’ll be fine, I just need a good night of sleep and I’ll be as right as rain.” He reassured.

“It’s still very much not right that I got you shot.” Insisted Holmes, stubborn, his jaw clenched and worry still clear in his eyes.

“You didn’t, my dearest, it was an accident. We’ve always known that this is a dangerous job.”

“You shouldn’t get hurt, John. Ever.” Insisted Holmes.

“And we both know it’s impossible, my dear. I’m fine, we’re alive and we’re together. – Dr Watson moved to kiss his husband softly. – Come to bed, Sherlock. We both need to rest, my dearest.”

“My dear, dear Watson. – Sighed the detective. – I… Are you quite sure it’s alright?” He asked again, with a small, tentative smile.

“Quite – Smiled the doctor. – You need to sleep, Sherlock.”

“You shouldn’t be worrying for me, John. Not-”

“You’re my husband. Worrying for you is what I’ve been doing for the last 20 years.” Interrupted the doctor.

“That you have. Give me a moment, just time to slip into my nightshirt.” Smiled Holmes, the worry in his eyes not quite eased, but not as tense anymore.

He was a man of his word: in a few moments he had undressed and got ready for sleeping just as Dr Watson had removed his waistcoat and shirt and lied down under the covers, waiting for his partner.

“I’ll hold you tonight, dear one.” Stated the detective, climbing on the bed and settling at his husband’s side.

“Don’t look at me like that, John. I wouldn’t manage to sleep without knowing that you are sleeping and are safe.” He continued at the doctor’s slight protest.

“You are a tyrant. And worry too much. And I love you, my little bee.” Smiled Dr Watson, settling on his right side and snuggling on his husband, his head on Holmes’ strong, bony shoulder.

“I love you too, my dear. And I don’t know how I could manage without you.” Replied the detective, placing a kiss on his husband’s silver streaked hair.

“Shush now. Don’t think such thoughts, nothing bad happened. And you were so very keen to show off by carrying me upstairs, my dearest. So with a bit of luck none of us will have to manage without the other for a long time still.” Smiled Watson, basking in Holmes’ strong hold and caressing his body with light fingers.

“You shush. – Rebuked Holmes. – As much as you are a bit heavier than a few years ago, you’re certainly not nearly heavy enough that I can’t carry you upstairs, such ideas!” He joked.

Dr Watson chuckled. “Good, I manage to make you joke.”

“I do worry for you, my Watson. You are the person I hold more dear than everybody in this world.” Murmured Holmes, his voice very soft.

“And yet…”

“Not so much as to spare your pride about that, my little bear.” Smiled the detective, patting his Watson’s backside.

“You simply don’t operate in the system most of us operate in, dear Holmes. I’ve turned fifty-one a few months ago and you’ll turn fifty in a few months and yet you’re still the most uncomfortable pillow I’ve ever slept on.” Joked Watson, his hand pressing on his partner’s flat stomach, caressing him through the nightshirt.

“And yet I’m also getting old and soft in more than one way, dear John.” Smiled the detective in the dark.

“And is that supposed to be a bad thing?” Asked Watson rhetorically.

“I-”

“I don’t think so. – Smiled the doctor, interrupting Holmes’ attempt to answer. – It’s good that you also relax a bit, that you unwind. I’m glad of every single white hair on your head, Sherlock, and of every single line on your face, because we’ve managed to live to our fiftieth birthday, my dear fellow, and I never thought we would get to it. Now sleep. And don’t think dark thoughts.”

“You are an insatiable romantic, my dearest John. And you need to sleep, I’m sorry I’ve been keeping you awake.” Replied Holmes, wishing his partner good night.

Dr Watson replied in kind, grumbling a bit, jokingly, about his Holmes being the most uncomfortable man another man had ever used as a pillow and closing his eyes.

Mr Holmes’ eyes stayed open for some more time still. Pondering their luck, working through how frightened he had been, handling his worry, listening to his husband’s breath, his soft snores, feeling his chest move with it against his own body. Letting his Watson’s quiet presence calm him down until he fell asleep as well, with his husband’s arm around his waist and his own arm around his husband’s strong shoulders, listening to his calm breath.

Eep

#not my art #my fic #fanfiction for fanart #victorian husbands #sherlock holmes #john watson

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honeypiehotchner · 2 days ago

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Couldn't Make It Any Harder (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Anxious girlies rise!!! I'm just fantasizing about someone staying and not being an asshole and in my mind Hotch would stay and wouldn't be an asshole, so this was born (also yes I listened to Sabrina Carpenter's song by the same title while I wrote this!)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst all over the place, very anxious reader, Hotch being the kindest and most understanding man alive, est. relationship, fluff!, maybe autistic!reader if you squint

WC: 3.2k

Dating Aaron Hotchner is never short of any surprises.

With how hectic his work schedule can be, plans are often impromptu and random text messages before phone calls asking if you’re free for anything: dinner, a drink, a movie, a walk.

Dating him is also never short of innocent questions.

These, you didn’t expect, but maybe you should’ve — or would’ve, if you truly understood what his job is. He explained it to you, but it’s hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that he’s part of a team of people so good at reading the behavior of other people that they can catch criminals based on it alone.

His job almost seemed fake, too good to be true — and so did he.

Especially when, after a month of dating, neither of you had stayed the night with one another, and he wasn’t pressing the subject when he’d suggest it and you’d politely tell him no.

You almost thought it meant he didn’t like you at all and was only being nice by going on dates with you, even though he didn’t seem like that kind of guy at all. Still, you can never be too careful.

And when he made reservations for your six-month anniversary at a fancy restaurant downtown, and told you when he’d pick you up, and even showed up a few minutes early but told you to take your time, you thought you were going insane. There was no way it was true, that he was true.

But he was. And is.

Except, your relationships have a shelf life. Or rather, you have a shelf life.

None of your previous relationships have made it this far, none of them too thrilled about the fact that you’re not well-experienced sexually, or the fact that you want to actually wait until you feel secure in a relationship before taking that step. Of course, none of them said that was the reason they were ending things, but you knew. You could tell.

After having it happen to you multiple times, you can’t let yourself relax. Any time that you feel like you’re maybe going to get comfortable, some anxious thought rears its ugly head and sets you right back where you were.

You try your hardest to enjoy the relationship with Aaron, and you do. Knowing his work schedule varies allows you to keep your distance, making it easier to keep telling yourself that you’re keeping your guard up. You’re keeping yourself protected for when the inevitable other shoe drops to the ground like a bomb.

So, it’s no surprise that as your relationship approaches the eight-month mark, and Aaron asks if you’d like to come over to his place for dinner on a random weeknight after a couple weeks of not seeing each other, you think the worst.

“How do I look?” you ask your best friend over FaceTime as you spin in a circle. “Hot enough to be broken up with?”

“You are not getting broken up with!” she cries over the phone. “And yes, hot, as always.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, strategically not commenting on her theory that you’ll still have a boyfriend by the end of tonight.

“He’s not going to break up with you,” she says again, softer this time. “He’s different.”

“I always think they’re different, that’s the problem,” you mutter. “He just took a lot longer than I thought he would.” You don’t need to spell it out for your best friend to know that this one will hurt the worst out of them all.

Because this time, you love him.

“You don’t know that he’s going to break up with you.”

“You know that gut feeling I always had before the others?” you say, looking at her solemnly. “I have it right now.”

She frowns. You almost think she’s going to argue with you, but she doesn’t. Because she knows. You had the same gut feeling the last five times. Why would it be wrong on the sixth?

“I’m sorry,” she finally says.

“It’s okay,” you shrug, picking up your purse and lifting your phone. You glance at the clock. “I guess I should go.”

He offered to pick you up, but you said you’d drive yourself. You figure you’d rather do your future self a favor and save yourself from the awkward post-breakup drive home.

“Call me after,” she says with another sad smile. “We can cry if you need to.”

“Thank you.”

“And hey, if he does break up with you, I can come up this weekend and key his car for you.”

“Babe. He works for the FBI.”

“So?”

You laugh as you roll your eyes. “Goodbye. I’ll call you later.”

You drive to Aaron’s in complete silence. You don’t even intend to, you’re just on autopilot.

You’re trying not to shut down emotionally, but you can already feel it happening. It’s inevitable when you feel like you’re about to be hurt. The shield goes up, the walls raise, and nothing gets past them.

With any luck, you won’t even cry when he breaks up with you. You don’t always, which gets you labeled as a cold hearted bitch, but that doesn’t bother you.

You put your brave face on when you pull into his driveway, only it quickly morphs into shock when Aaron comes out the front door in dark jeans and a black button down. He opens your car door for you with an easy, genuine smile, looking as handsome and happy to see you as ever.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you chuckle nervously, stepping out and letting him shut your car door.

“I wanted to,” he shrugs, leaning in for a kiss.

You accept it, trying not to seem so stiff, but the slight furrow of his eyebrows tells you that he felt it. He doesn’t say anything about it though.

“Come on,” he murmurs, one hand on the small of your back as he walks you inside. “I’ve never made this for dinner before, so we might end up with pizza.”

“All good,” you laugh, setting your purse in its usual spot on the table by the door.

The conversation is fine, if a little awkward, as you sit in his kitchen so he can keep an eye on dinner in the oven. He offers wine and you decline, just taking some water. He keeps furrowing his eyebrows just a little, his tell for when he’s reading your behavior but doesn’t quite know what to make of it yet.

You sip your water and avoid eye contact while he shuffles around the kitchen, finishing up dinner.

He washes his hands, leaning back against the sink as he dries his hands with a towel. He watches you with a soft expression.

“Is everything okay?” he finally asks.

You hate when they do this. Because if you say you’ve had a rough day, they won’t break up with you because they don’t want to “make it worse”. But if you say you’ve had a good day, they will go through with the breakup, because they’d rather ruin your good mood instead of make the bad mood worse.

“Yep,” you say with a tiny smile. “Just watching you.”

He returns the smile, but it’s not at all easy like before.

Fuck. Should you just rip the band-aid off and ask?

You nearly do, but then he says dinner should be ready, and you can’t. You almost expect to be eating right here at the stools on his counter, or for him to break the news and you leave without eating, but he waves you through to the dining room.

You follow after him, a little confused, stopping dead in your tracks in the doorway when you see the sight before you.

A white table cloth over his little square table, candles in the middle, a small bouquet of your favorite flowers set aside to make room for the dish he made, plates and cutlery and a wine glass already laid out on either side.

“What is this?” you ask, your heart hammering in your chest and threatening to escape up your throat.

“Our favorite restaurant was fully booked,” he explains with an awkward laugh. “So I tried to recreate one we always order, and thought I’d try to recreate the table too. It’s a little…wonky, but it’s close enough I think.”

You blink. “Why?”

The deep concern returns to his face. “Because I want to.”

“But why?” you ask again, staring at him with wide eyes, like you’re trying to catch him in something.

He comes closer, the worry on his face only growing. “We haven’t been able to have dinner together in a couple weeks because the cases have been packed, so I wanted it to be special.”

“Okay,” you swallow, nodding slowly. He just wanted it to be special. Right. “Okay.”

“Come sit,” he says softly, hands reaching out for you as if he needs to steady you. You kind of need him to.

After he safely has you tucked into your seat, and he’s brought your water over for you to drink, he sits in the chair beside you.

“Dinner’s gonna get cold,” you murmur, not wanting to be the subject of his profiling right now. You stare down at the empty plate.

“I can warm it back up,” he says, taking one of your hands. “Can I ask you a question?”

Skeptical, you nod.

“Why do you always seem so shocked when I do something nice for you?”

Your eyes close as you grimace. Great. Now he thinks you’re ungrateful on top of it all.

“I don’t mean it in a rude way,” he clarifies, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand, soothing you. “I just mean…when you ask why I do these things, like dinner and bring you flowers and open your car door, and I say I’m doing it because I want to… You almost look like you don’t believe me, and today you really look like you don’t believe me.”

“I do believe you,” you rush to say, but now he looks like he doesn’t believe you. “Or maybe I don’t,” you add quietly, looking back down at where your fingers are tangled. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, honey,” he says, and he sounds so desperate that it makes your heart ache. “I just want to understand you better.”

Your face crumples at that, the emotion too much to keep at bay when he’s being this kind to you and you were thinking he was going to break up with you — and he still could.

“Sorry,” you sniffle, your free hand coming up to cover your mouth as you shake your head. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not, it’s not stupid,” he says, using both hands to hold yours. “Is it something I did? Or said?”

“No, it’s just—” you cut yourself off, letting out a shaky breath. “I thought you were breaking up with me tonight.”

He stills. And it makes your heart freeze. You caught him. Here it is. You brace for impact.

“Honey, I— That’s not at all what I was planning on doing tonight. What made you think that I was going to break up with you?”

“You invited me to dinner at your place,” you cry, and when you say it out loud like that, it really doesn’t make any sense.

“Why would I do that if I was going to break up with you?”

“You wouldn’t believe the ways I’ve been broken up with,” you let out a laugh, trying to make light of this now very emotional and awkward situation. “I’m sorry, I’m ruining what was supposed to be a very normal, romantic dinner—”

“Listen to me, you are not ruining anything,” he says firmly, still looking up at you with those kind brown eyes. “I just want to understand what’s going on in that brain of yours.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Trust me, I do.”

You stare at him for a moment, wondering when the twist is coming. The moment he says it was all a ruse and he is ending things. The moment you can call his bluff.

But it never comes. His gaze doesn’t waver, and neither does the care in his eyes.

“Okay,” you murmur. “But can we talk over dinner or after? It smells really good.”

He laughs at that, the sound warming you from the inside out. His smile is infectious as he nods and says, “Of course we can. We should probably taste this and see if we need to put in a pizza order.”

He moves his plate so he stays sitting right beside you, where he can keep his hand tucked in yours. It feels safe.

One bite in and you’re amazed at how well he recreated the dish and how good it tastes. You’re too busy devouring the food to even think about explaining your thought process behind tonight anymore.

Except, Aaron does return to the subject, not wanting to let it go just yet, because clearly you have him spooked after saying you thought you were going to be broken up with.

So, you explain. There was the guy who broke up with you on your birthday. And one who did it a day before Valentine’s Day. And another who decided that mid-six-month-anniversary date was prime time to end things. And then a couple others with bad timing but not the worst. But all had one thing in common.

“I know we haven’t had sex yet and I guess I’ve just grown to realize I have a shelf life.”

Aaron looks alarmed. “Shelf life?”

“Yeah, like, I tell people I want to wait before I take the step to do anything sexually, and I only have so much time before me being desirable…expires, I guess.”

He blinks. You watch what looks like a thousand emotions cross his face at once and you’re unable to read any of them. “Did someone…say that to you?”

You shake your head. “Not really. Not exactly those words. But I kind of came to the conclusion after the third time it happened. I guess I just expect it now.”

Aaron is quiet for a moment, thumbs rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand. You’re not sure at all of what he’s going to say. “The last time we had dinner before my work schedule got so crazy these last two weeks…did we move too fast?”

You try to think back to that night. It was dinner and then the two of you came back to Aaron’s for a drink. Nothing crazy because you needed to drive home still. But the two of you did get pretty hot and heavy on the couch.

Come to think of it, you didn’t drink much at all that night, because there was hardly a moment to spare when Aaron’s lips weren’t on yours, or on your neck, or your collarbones.

It didn’t escalate. He offered, you declined, said you wanted to just continue what you were doing, and that was that.

Then, you didn’t see Aaron for two weeks because of his work schedule, which meant phone calls were short and rare and text messages were as good as you could get. And so your mind put pieces together and created a scenario that wasn’t true.

“We didn’t,” you say, genuinely meaning it. “But I guess my brain freaked out because it thought you had finally had enough of hearing me turn you down and that I had finally…expired, I guess.”

He squeezes your hand. “Please don’t ever talk about yourself that way. You don’t have an expiration date. And I don’t care that we haven’t taken that step yet. I am willing to wait as long as you need to—”

“That’s what they always say,” you murmur through a watery smile. “But thanks.”

He frowns. “How can I make you believe me?” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” you reply truthfully, your face crumpling again. Your hand slips from his so you can cover your face, sniffling hard into your palms. “I’m sorry. I know I don’t make it easy.”

“Honey…don’t make what easy?”

“Dating me,” you sob, not knowing if he can even understand you through the tears. “I get it if you— If this is your limit, I get it. I'd understand.” You sniffle again, wiping your face and nose and trying to regain any sort of composure that you can find.

Aaron looks up at you, and after a moment too long of silence, you almost think he’s actually going to do it, but he doesn’t. He does the opposite.

“I love you,” he says.

You inhale sharply, wiping under your nose again. “You do?”

He doesn’t move to grab your hands after you’ve taken them away, but he reaches toward you, nodding. “I wanted to say it at our favorite restaurant, but that fell through, so I thought I’d make it special and tell you here instead, but…I had no idea you were feeling like this.”

“I didn’t wanna tell you in case I was right,” you murmur. “I didn’t want to scare you away by being too needy, I guess.”

He smiles gently. “Nothing is going to scare me away,” he assures you, taking your hand again. “Can I ask a favor, though?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell me the next time you’re feeling like this?” he asks softly. “I want to be able to help, but I can’t if I don’t know what’s going on. And I hate the thought of you silently suffering with this when I’m right here and I can give you the reassurance you need.”

You nod more now. “I can. I can do that.” You pause. “Hey Aaron?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I love you too,” you reply, feeling a wave of relief come over you after you let it out, knowing he feels the same. It makes fresh tears spring into your eyes all over again. “I’ve felt it for so long and I think it was scaring me because I can’t ever let myself relax into a relationship without worrying that something is going to go wrong—”

He hauls you into his arms without another moment’s hesitation, letting you cry into his shoulder. It’s all the months of worry building up and finally boiling over, and he lets you get it all out.

“I’m so sorry,” you say into his neck, taking in shaky breaths.

“Please don’t apologize, honey,” he replies, rubbing circles on your back. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for listening,” you say, barely able to get the words out through the emotion in your voice. You take a deep breath, relaxing further into his arms while simultaneously gripping his shirt as hard as you can. This has exhausted you.

“Do you want to move to the couch?” he asks. “We can put on that show we were watching together. I can pour us some wine if that might help you calm down?”

You nod into his neck, not quite wanting to leave this spot just yet. “I’d like that,” you sigh. “Can we stay like this for a minute?”

“Of course,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We can stay as long as you need.”

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whimsical--cat · 1 day ago

Text

Operation Lover Boy: Declassified

Summary: BAU’s resident genius hid something from the team. As #1 Office Informant, Penelope Garcia swore she would get the truth out of him. Or Spencer had a secret girlfriend, and the team was about to find out.

Genre: Humor (kind of) with a dash of fluff

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2638

Warnings: Mention of Spencer got shot, but he was fine, and it was kind of important to the plot.

Author Notes: This one is so much fun to write!!! The majority of this fanfic was written from Garcia’s POV, but I added a tiny bit of Spencer’s POV at the end of it.

Penelope might not be a profiler, but as (self-proclaimed) #1 Office Informant, who knew every tittle-tattle in each nook of the office, she sensed that the Boy Wonder hid something from the team (her) — she hasn’t figured out what yet. That, the part that bothered her the most. She didn’t like secrets when it came to her family. She understood that Reid was a private person, but what if the thing he hid from the team (her) got him into trouble? She just wanted to be a good friend, you know?

She noticed it around 2 months ago. It was subtle, and almost went on unnoticed at first. Right after Hotch said wheels up, Reid pulled out his phone from his pocket and texted someone. She initially thought he just needed to contact someone from the care facility his mother was in. But then it happened every single time just like clockwork. He always texted someone before they went to wherever the case whisked them away. In all the years Penelope has known the Boy Wonder, she never saw him texting someone that often, especially during office hours.

The text thing wasn’t the only one that she noticed, of course. Next was the fact that Reid has stopped hanging out in the bullpen after office hours. Shocking. She couldn’t believe her eyes when that happened. Most of the time he was no longer on his desk when Penelope walked to the elevator. What could he possibly be doing?

The last thing, and definitely the most shocking one happened when the team just finished a case in Portland last week. It was common for the team to go back to the office when they finished a case. But that wasn’t what happened that day. Once they were landed, Reid went straight home.

JJ said it was something to do with a new book he needed to pick up at the bookstore before closing time. Sure it was common knowledge that Boy Genius loved books, if he could live in the library, he probably would. Back to the main point, it’d take less than an hour if he came down to the office first, and she was certain that the bookstore would still be open by then.

What frustrated her even further was she had zero idea how he behaved on the field recently. The disadvantages of a desk job. Did he act differently? Did he also secretly text someone when the team was building the profile of their UnSub? She definitely needed an additional set of eyes and ears on the field. And who would fit this role better than her favorite Chocolate Thunder, hm?

The team was currently in San Diego, dealing with yet another serial killer. Morgan just happened to call her to do some digging, in hope it’d help build their profile further. Perfect timing. A little chit-chat with your colleague during working hours wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Hey, before you go… Do you, perhaps, notice something going on with Reid?”

“What about Reid?”

Penelope immediately caught the change of tone in his voice. The playfulness in his voice was gone, and replaced with a concerned one. She knew how protective Morgan could be, especially when it came to Reid, and she felt bad for making him think something bad happened.

“No-no-no, I promise it’s not something bad. Well, I hope it’s not.”

“Garcia, what’s going on?”

So, she told him everything. Every little detail she had observed the last 2 months. How it drove her insane that she hadn’t figured out what was happening.

“Ah. I see.”

“Derek.” Her voice was firm even through the phone. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Well, now that you mentioned it. When we shared a room in Portland, he was almost never in the room by the time I finished my shower. Every time I asked him, he either said he just needed some air or took a phone call.”

“Is this what I think it is?” She gasped as she came to a realization. “I don’t even want to say it out loud — afraid I might jinx it.”

“You think Pretty Boy hides a Pretty Girl from all of us?”

If anyone listened close enough, they would recognize her squeal through the phone. “OH GOD. Is this really happening to our Einstein?”

“Maybe. I can keep an eye on him for you.”

“You know me too well. This is why I love you.”

“Alright, baby girl, I gotta go.”

Throughout the investigation, as promised, Morgan kept feeding Penelope new information. Thanks to the additional findings from him, her suspicion was correct. Reid had been constantly texting someone while on duty. Not all the time, of course. But he’d make time to take a little break to text someone.

When they were back to the hotel, as expected, Reid left the room again once Morgan took a shower. One time, after his shower, Morgan searched for Reid, and found him in the lobby, making a phone call. He lingered for a bit, and discovered that Boy Genius was apologizing to whoever he had a phone call with — explaining that unfortunately it took them longer to solve the case, so he wouldn’t be back any time soon. Based on Morgan’s observation, he definitely talked to a special lady friend.

After 6 long days, the team finally managed to catch the UnSub. When they cornered the UnSub, unfortunately Reid got shot on his arm — they had to stay another night until the hospital discharged him. Hotch had instructed him to take a few days off, starting effectively the moment they were back to Quantico.

Penelope, as the best friend that she was, had suggested that if they didn’t have any pre-existing plans on the weekend, they should go visit Reid together. Sadly, not all the team members could go. With Morgan and Emily on both of her sides, they stood in front of Reid’s apartment door.

After a few knocks, the door was finally opened. They had expected Boy Genius to open the door, probably in his pajamas or any comfy loungewear he’d usually wear at home. What they didn’t expect however was a woman, wearing a CalTach hoodie (most definitely his hoodie) and shorts, opening the door. You looked completely cozy at his apartment. Emily even did a double-take on the apartment number, in case they knocked on the wrong door.

“Hey. Are you guys Spencer’s friends?” The sweet girl hesitantly asked them.

“Yes. We work with him.” Emily chimed in, and they could hear the amusement in her voice.

“Oh! The BAU! Come in. He’s still asleep though.” You stepped aside to let them in.

As the 3 of them stood in the living room, they watched you go to what they assumed was Reid’s bedroom. They heard some noise from inside the room, you probably tried to wake him up.

The grin that had taken its rightful place on Penelope’s face from the moment you opened the front door hadn’t faded — her face started to hurt a little, but she didn’t care. Dr. Spencer Reid actually hid a girlfriend from them!

“Do you know about any of this?” Emily whispered from her right.

“Uh-hu, I had suspected it for almost 2 months.”

After a while, you re-emerged from the bedroom, Reid was hot on your tail. That was also the moment he realized that the two of you had companies.

“Hm, hey, guys.” Reid stood awkwardly next to you.

“Pretty Boy is hiding a Pretty Girl from us this entire time?” Morgan’s signature smirk was on full display on his face.

“Right. This is Morgan, Garcia, and Emily.” Clearing his throat, Reid turned toward you, and introduced you. “This is my girlfriend.”

You, who looked completely entertained throughout the exchange, said your name. “Spencer talks about you guys a lot. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Penelope, who had been keeping her excitement at bay, finally exploded. “And we sadly had heard nothing about you, sweet girl. Our Einstein here clearly wants to keep you for himself.”

“I understand that Spencer is a private person, and I want to respect his wish to keep this between us.”

“Can I hug you? Please, I want to hug you.” Penelope looked at you with her pleading eyes.

“Sure.” You chuckled at her request.

They spent the next few hours chatting in Reid’s living room, grilling the couple with many questions regarding their relationship. They all were simultaneously shocked and amazed when they learned that the two of you had been together for 7 months! Boy Wonder managed to keep his relationship private for 7 months. Who would’ve thought?

What actually shocked them the most was when they learned how you two first met. Apparently, from time to time you did dog-sitting, and you usually took the dogs for a walk to this one particular park. That was where you met Reid.

One fateful day, the dog you took to the park ran towards Reid and quite literally knocked him off of the bench. You immediately apologized to him, and offered if there was something you could do to make it up to him. He easily brushed it off, saying it was nobody’s fault. With a funny twist of fate, you two kept seeing each other in that park from that day on. At some point, Reid finally gathered his courage, and asked if you were single. Once you said yes, he asked again whether or not you wanted to go on a date with him. The rest was history.

Their conversation flew effortlessly, bouncing from one topic to another. They shared some (embarrassing) stories about Reid to you. As if it was possible, his ears visibly got redder with each story they shared. You seemed to enjoy the whole interaction. Seeing this side of Boy Wonder, one where he engaged with his closest friends, you’ve never seen before.

Penelope just had to tell you how happy she was knowing that Reid had you in his life. He smiled at that statement. A smile that she had never seen before. Surely it was something that was intended to be kept for a more intimate moment between the two of you.

Not only did they share stories of Reid, they also asked some questions about you. They wanted to know more about the woman who clearly had stolen the heart of one Dr. Spencer Reid. So you told them about where you grew up, what kind of job you do, what you do in your spare time, and many more.

You even confirmed that yes indeed Boy Genius always texted you before the team traveled to deal with the bad guy. Another shocking truth when you revealed it was actually his idea to have a nightly phone call when he was away. Who would’ve thought that Reid was a romantic?

“You do realize that once this story reaches the rest of the team, you have to retell it all over again for them, right?” Morgan teased him.

“Right. It’s only fair for them to hear it, too.” Emily added in.

“I hate you guys.” Reid groaned, then buried his face in his hands.

“No, you don’t.” Penelope cheerfully responded. “Once JJ knows about this too, we should have a girl’s night!” This time she talked to you.

“Sure.” — “No!” The two of you answered at the same time.

It caused all of you to burst out laughing, well except for Reid. In defeat, he threw his head to the back of the couch. Accepting the impending endless teasing from the team that he was sure wouldn’t die down any time soon. She caught how you brushed his knuckles, perhaps trying to calm him. A soft smile adorned Penelope’s face at the loving gesture.

When it was time for them to go home, you two walked them to the front door. To Reid’s dismay, of course Penelope had to ask for your number before they left — really solidified the upcoming girl’s night that could happen any time soon.

“See you on Monday, Lover Boy.” Morgan waved at you two as he walked towards the stairs.

“I’ll text you later, sweet girl.”

---

Once the door was closed, Spencer wanted to hit his head on the door so badly. This was exactly why he kept his relationship private. Not that he was ashamed of you, or his relationship — no, he loved you dearly. However he had a noisy group of friends. He knew this would eventually happen, but still, he wished he could keep it private for a bit longer.

Probably sensing his distress, you turned him around so he’d look at you. “It wasn’t that bad. I like seeing your friends, and they’re clearly happy for you. For us.” Clearing your throat, before continuing. “It also makes me happy knowing it’s me that makes you happy.”

He gently stroked your cheek, and pleased when you immediately leaned into his touch. “Of course you make me happy, sweetheart. I guess I’m doing such a poor job on showing how grateful I am to have you in my life if you ever doubt that.” He kissed your forehead, and his lips lingered seconds too long. “I love you.”

“I love you too, genius. I hope you’re ready for Monday.”

“Please don’t remind me.”

A serial killer didn’t catch a break over the weekend unfortunately, because Hotch had contacted the team to gather in the round-table room first thing first on Monday. On the other hand, Spencer was thankful, it meant they would immediately discuss the case, and they wouldn’t have time to tease him about his relationship.

This time, the case would take them to Austin. The local PD had requested the assistance of the BAU on their ongoing investigation. Once Hotch announced wheels up, and the team was about to get ready, Garcia however stopped them. She encouraged him to tell the rest of the team. They were back to their seats, and staring at him with knowing looks. Fantastic.

So, dejectedly he disclosed his relationship to the rest of the team. There were a few gasps from JJ and Rossi who weren’t at his apartment then. Even Hotch looked somewhat pleased with this newest discovery.

“Go on, Lover Boy. Aren’t you going to text your girl?” Of course it was Morgan who started it.

“I can’t believe you managed to keep it private this long, kid.” Rossi joined in.

“Maybe we should grab a drink when we’re back, and invite her to join us, Spence.” JJ added with amusement in her voice.

“Oh, that’s a fun idea! You better tell her soon, Doc. If you don’t, remember that I have her phone number, and I’ll definitely do it.” Garcia threatened him but with so much glee in her tone.

With a long heavy sigh, Spencer admitted his defeat. “Fine. I’ll tell her.”

One by one, the team started leaving the room — getting their stuff ready for the trip. Morgan patted his back before leaving the room. Spencer still sat in his seat, pulling out his phone to text you.

Spencer [08:47]: We’re going to Austin this time. You [08:48]: Please be safe. Did you survive the interrogation? Spencer [08:49]: I will. It could’ve been worse. The whole team wants to meet you when we’re back. Garcia threatened me that she’ll personally contact you if I don’t inform you. You [08:50]: Do you think I should meet them? Spencer [08:51]: Yes, but only if you’re comfortable with it. You [08:52]: Well, I guess I’ll see everyone when the case is over.

Spencer put his phone back in his pocket. The corner of his mouth quirked up. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that the team now knew about you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #aaron hotchner

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harrysangel23 · 3 days ago

Text

Stuffy*

A/N: Hi guys!! So happy to see my last fic got some attention and it seems y'all liked it so I thought I'd post another. LMK what you think and send in some requests if you'd like, not sure when I'll post next but I hope you guys enjoy this one as well!

pairing: soft dom H x sub reader

WC: a little under 2k

Warnings: humping, dirty talk, oral (f&m receiving), fingering F recieving, daddy kink, spit play. (I think thats all? just know its low key filthy)

18+

Out of all the things Harry thought he would walk into, he never expected you to be humping a stuffy while tears streamed down your face.

He had been at work all day, long meetings and boring paperwork that slowly drained the life out of him. He loved his job sure, days like this though made him want to walk away and never come back. His bunny was sweet enough to send him encouraging texts throughout the day and figured she'd be asleep by the time he returned home. Much to his surprise, this was clearly not the case.

She turned her head when she heard their bedroom door open but that didn’t stop her hips from moving across the stuffy that lay between her legs.

“What's this all about bunny?” He spoke softly, moving towards the bed to grab her chin in his palm as he lightly thumbed away the tears that moved down her cheeks.

She whined and he gave her a pointed look, she knows she has to explain herself. “Daddy it hurts so bad, I can’t h-help it.” She let out a soft sob as her clit grazed the beaded nose and he felt his heart clench a little.

“What do you mean darling, what hurts?”

“My pussy daddy, I need you to help me, please. I’ve been trying, I just can’t make it go away.” His eyes couldn’t break away from the very noticeable damp spot on her panties and how it only seemed to grow the more she grinded down.

“Why didn’t you say something sweetheart, hm? You’ve been texting me all day.”

“I-I know how rough your day was, I d-didn’t want you to have to look after me w-when you had a lot going on and I thought I could do it myself.” Tears continued leaking out of her eyes and he tried to wipe them away with his thumbs.

“You know I’m supposed to look after you, I love looking after you.” He pointedly looked at her after her previous statement. “Even if I had a rough day, I would love nothing more than to take care of you and your sweet little pussy.”

She let out another cry, reaching her hands to hold the wrists that were cupping her face. She needed to feel some part of him. Already being worked up, him showing up home with an unbuttoned shirt and pants that clung to his hips wasn’t helping. She moved her hands to tug on the pants and pull them and his boxers down. His growing erection now right in your face.

A gentle hiss left his throat as you quickly spat in your hands and began to stroke his length up and down. While still rocking your hips against the stuffy, your neck bent and you happily licked at him. He watched intensely as your tongue made its way from his base all the way to the tip before you sucked the precum that was sitting there. Letting out a gentle moan at the taste vibrated against his cock and he felt all the tension leave him.

His head falling back with a slight grunt at the way you began taking his length in your mouth and hands occupying his balls. “That's it, good girl. So sweet t’me.” At the sentence alone you grind your hips harder and took him deeper. Bobbing your head, his hands reached to pull and tug your hair back. Spit was easily drooling down his cock and pooling near his balls when you pulled back to give them some love. Moving your hand up and down his cock you licked and sucked his balls and made sure they were fully coated in your spit before taking him in your mouth again.

“It tastes so good daddy, I missed you.” You greedily licked the tip as more of his cum dribbled out. When you took him all the way you heard him let out a loud moan at the feeling of your tight throat constricting around him. “I’m gonna cum bunny, doing so well.” His words only encouraged you to fasten your movements. Your panties felt flooded at the noises and curses especaping his mouth as he finally came and his cum filled your mouth. Your hands moved from his balls to help stroke him and milk his cock completely dry and give you everything he had to offer. “That’s it bunny, swallow daddy’s cum.” With your mouth full you happily swallowed and opened your mouth wide to show him.

He beamed as he looked at you, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip before leaning in and encapsulating your mouth with his. Your tongue greedily licked into his mouth, moaning as his lips sucked around your tongue. Your kiss was messy as you licked into each other and he stroked your neck. His hand soon reached to take your neck, squeezing it before he pulled you back away from him.

“Go lay down. Going to help your poor pussy out honey.” Your pussy ached the moment you climbed off the stuffy and towards the headboard. Your hair laying across the pillows and your thighs clenched together. Harry completely discarded his clothes that had been resting by his ankles and climbed up on the bed. His hands gripped your thighs as he pulled them apart and his eyes quickly zeroed in on the flimsy panties that were doing a poor job at covering you up.

His hands tightly gripped your thighs as he pushed your legs up, your knees resting up by your chest. “Hold your thighs for me bunny.” You quickly complied, hands resting on the backs of your thighs as you kept your legs up in order for him to have easy access to you.

He tsked and mockily pouted at you just from the state of your panties, the current position making your cunt almost swallow your thong. “My poor bunny. Look at the mess we got here. Waited all day for me, humped your little stuffy, and took me down your throat like a good girl. Your pussy is just aching for me, isn't it honey?”

“Yes daddy. Needed you so bad.” You spoke as you gazed at him, his eyes still fixated on the condition of your panties.

“I can see that. Bet it’s just waiting to be licked up.” His hands on the sides of your ass moved to grab the side of your panties, expecting him to pull them down, he did the opposite. Your panties now pulled up higher as he gazed at the way your pussy swallowed the panties, your lips now on either side. You couldn’t help but let out a whine at the friction it caused to your clit. His index finger moving to stroke your folds that were bulging against the fabric. Once he made contact with your clit you couldn’t help but speak up.

“Daddy p-please. I’ve needed you so bad.” You whimpered out. He looked up to see your watery eyes. Who was he to deny you? He hand left and soon your panties were pulled down, a string of your juices connecting and you saw his eyes darken when he made eye contact with your bare cunt.

“Oh bunny, look at this poor, weepy, little pussy. She's a mess f’me.” His lips pressed to your thighs as he took in a deep breath and groaned. “God you smell so fucking good. Gonna lick you up and make it all better. Doesn’t that sound nice angel?” You eagerly nodded and anticipated his next move.

He wasted no more time, immediately diving in by licking a fat stripe up your folds, tasting your juices. You let out a sob at the feeling, what you have been waiting for all day and it felt incredible. His tongue licked up all your excitement that kept leaking, not swallowing it, but spitting it right back out on your clit and eagerly lapping at it. You couldn’t help but drop your hands from your thighs and reach for his hair. Wanting to pull and tug on it but his movements were paused as he lifted his head.

“Nuh uh angel. You gotta hold your thighs up f’me, be a good girl.” You pouted but nevertheless moved your hands back to your thighs to keep them held up. He smiled appreciatively at you before diving back in.

His tongue making kitten licks at your clit as the noises that left your mouth were obscene. His hands tightened on the sides of your ass as you kept wiggling, finding it hard to stay still. Harry’s tongue didn’t let up. He kept slurping at the juices coming from your weepy hole and groaned against you.

“God baby, you’re so fucking wet,” his one hand reaching up and using to fingers to spread your pussy lips. “Juices are leaking everywhere honey, taste so good.” He licked up more of your arousal, spat it against your clit once again before his fingers took over to trace circles against you. His tongue soon prodded at your hole before he licked into it.

You couldn’t help the moans that escaped you. His lips, tongue, and fingers felt so good. Harry, appreciating the feedback, just became more eager to please you. His fingers replaced his tongue, inserting two into your pussy and his tounge connecting with your clit had your eyes rolling back. He swirled it against you, sucking on your clit as he groaned at the noises of your wet pussy and his fingers.

“God honey, pussy’s fucking soaking for me isn’t it? Just swallowing up my fingers and leaking juices everywhere.” He looked up at you between your thighs to see you watching with your lips parted in an o shape at how incredible it felt. Both his lips and fingers parting from you, making you almost whine as the knot in your tummy was approaching its breaking point. “Want to feel you cum on my tongue bunny. Wanna taste your cum leaking out of your pretty pink pussy.” His palm came down your pussy, slapping it. His cold and thick rings leaving a stinging that was soon soothed by his tongue connecting again and lapping you up.

You cried out, finding it more difficult than ever to keep your hands on your thighs and not tug his hair. You knew better though. Keeping some restraint, you leaned back, closing your eyes at how good it felt and how close you were.

“Daddy, I’m g-gonna cum, can I please cum.”

“Of course you can cum baby, be a good girl and cum for me.” The combination of his slurping against your pussy, him brutally fingering you, and the lewd noises that came from both, the knot finally burst.

You cried out, hands at last touching his hair and pulling as he licked you through your orgasm. He didn’t pull your hands away, simply letting it slide this time as you tugged his locks and scratched at his scalp. Your hips rocked into his face at the incredible high you were experiencing. He kept slurping at your pussy until he collected all your juices.

Instead of swallowing, he simply climbed up to you before tugging your lips open and spitting it into your open mouth. He roughly pressed his lips to yours. His tongue pushed your excitement all around your mouth as you did the same to him, both of you groaning at how filthy it was. He parted from you watching you swallow your own juices and smirked.

“Did so good for me baby. Such a fucking angel.” You smiled back at him, grabbing his shoulders to bring him in for another kiss. Parting from each other, he grabbed you to clean up.

Soon returning back to the bed from the bathroom, you both fall asleep in each other's arms, beyond tired but extremely content.

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #sub reader #dom harry styles #angel reader #smut #18 + content

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loveabunbun · 1 day ago

Text

; CAMBOY!WOOYOUNG 🦊 & CAMBOY!BEOMGYU 🧸 hard thoughts . . .

— includes; starting out, streaming routines, audience interactions, where you come in, and favourite kinks 🤍.

— cw; pornstar au, sex worker reader (wy), dom top amab reader (could be seen as strap), sub bottom woo, sub bottom gyu, brat tamer reader, light bd/sm, uhh specifics under the cut.

; STARTING OUT

— camboy!wooyoung

woo was no stranger to, well, strangers. one too many guys on grindr told him he could sell his nudes. and so he did. first it was pictures, then it was selling short audio clips and videos of him spilling on his soft stomach, then came the longer productions: lighting, camera angles, and action plans. welp. the money came rolling in fast. he doesn't bother hiding his trade much, it's fun and he's sexy. not hurting anybody! also,, i said action plan, but there's not really a plan — wooyoung started with his physical desires leading the way, and they haven't betrayed him yet!

— camboy!beomgyu

def started in uni. he's tall and hot, not to mention extremely charming, but hookups didn't really work out for him. instead of getting validation from randoms on a dating app, why not get validation, and money, from anonymous randoms on a porn website? (🤓☝🏻 <- how he felt explaining the logic to his friends). took a couple of months for him to get a dedicated audience going because he's not very consistent… but it’s an incredibly welcome surprise for his fans when they get the alert for a late-night live. caters to quite a niche audience due to the way he prefers to run things.

; STREAMING ROUTINES

— camboy!wooyoung

literally born to do this i'm not joking. it makes him feel good, confidence overflowing as the comments and cash roll in. likes to tease real bad: feels himself up when the camera starts rolling & rarely begins fully clothed — there’s always a sliver of skin to entice. his viewers fall right into his claws, hoping to see more of his beauty marks. obviously wooyoung loves keeping them on their toes: muses about his day, complaints about the coworkers from his primary job, or other noteable life events.

does all of this while either stroking himself, or perched on a vibe and slowly rolling his hips. it's his favourite way to wind down. just when they start losing patience, he's whimpering and shaking as his orgasm catches him off-guard. although they appreciate woo sharing about himself, moan-ridden and all, their entitled grumbling quickly turns into applause. and that is just the warm-up. he locks in after the first and really gets down to business, with the audience commanding his full attention.

— camboy!beomgyu

was incredibly shy at the start of his camboy streaming n didn’t even show his face for a while, until he put more effort into his chosen platform and security. even with his humble loyal fan base, beomgyu is still timid minutes in, but as the comments flow — calling him handsome, praising his soft skin and his strong, defined muscles — his confidence grows.

teases himself for a bit, knowing the audience likes it when he gets worked up. blessed with a naturally deep voice, gyu’s whines of pleasure gets the audience emptying out their pockets liberally. but he doesn’t play around too much since everyone knows what he’s there for (himself). yet while he gives in to his needs pretty quickly, beomgyu can go for a long time! switches up positions and toys often in one stream, so there's plenty of content for his starved fans. gets so sleepy and lethargic after he's put his body to the test, makes his viewers wanna baby him. takes care of himself with a well-deserved shower and nap.

; AUDIENCE INTERACTIONS?

— camboy!wooyoung; PLENTY

woo can put on a show, oh my god. has hella fun getting requests and fulfilling them (thinking of those tiktok lives and emotes,,). his audience always returns because, on top of being dastardly sexy, wooyoung knows how to handle the crowd. face the other way? bounce faster? take this off and put that on? on good days, he plays along well. his favourites get a little daring with their wishes and money when they notice his generous mood (the chances of success are zero if you never try). other days, he holds the cards. and his prices are not low.

— camboy!beomgyu; SPARINGLY

as said, beomie prioritises himself and his own needs. the money comes later. that's not to say the correct amt won't push him out his comfort zone... as his fanbase gets bigger and it's harder to maintain 'close' relations and remember usernames, the veil between them gets thicker. he's also reminded camming was always temporary employment. nonetheless, beomgyu also knows how to perform, and that always keeps them coming back. even if they didn't, he's more than happy with you alone. speaking of you...

; WHERE YOU COME IN

— camboy!wooyoung; COWORKER

you also make explicit content and have definitely seen his before. got in contact through a mutual friend who knew of your side hustles and suggested a collab off-handedly. so the first time you met was over a drink at a bar to sus out the vibes and determine compatibility. you quickly learnt that the talkative cutie was hilarious, and charismatic too. his apartment was the next location, a surprise for both your viewers. maybe it was watching him spit on your dick and deepthroat you with sparkling eyes, or his sweet offer to stay the night after the camera switched off but you were whipped.

— camboy!beomgyu; CAMERAMAN

you were friends first. good friends actually. you knew about his side hustle from basically the start (one of the friends responding with -> 😯🤨) but never mentioned it unless he did first. doesn’t mean you weren’t curious tho… at some point, you ended up stumbling across his account. and like any person with functioning eyes n ears, just couldn't swipe away. you eventually confessed and beomgyu, after his mortification passed, went "oh! my tripod broke recently! and i know you're broke." it was good money fr. soon enough, you were streaming your bestie impaled on your fat cock and moaning for you instead of some shitty toy (his plan all along ♡).

; FAVOURITE KINKS

— camboy!wooyoung

brat taming. the Brat. like i said, he knows how to tease. you, especially. you’re an open book to woo and he takes advantage: responding to your polite requests with snark or sarcasm; embarrassing you to his (and yours!) viewers (or ‘discouraging the competition’, but jokes on him bc everyone loves a hot loser); just being vexing in general. and you’re patient! but not that much. you know he does it for your attention, and you’re more than happy to give it to him. punishments cover impact play, sensory deprivation, and plain old orgasm-denial the worst one iho. maybe all three. often you’ll let the audience choose. they’re meaner than you are ;)

role-playing. LOVES a cheeky little scene. anything with clear power dynamics: professor/student, doctor/patient, police officer/offender, supervisor/intern, even owner/pet. watching you get into character kinda reminds him of the first time you met and introduces him to another side of you. it's also just hella fun. the viewers get a kick out of your improv and enjoy being involved in the world-building. favourite scenarios are definitely recycled.

size queen. wooyoung loves to get stuffed. swallows your dick like he was made for it, and i'm not just talking about his mouth. his ass could be designated a black hole if you didn't know any better lmfao. beads, plugs, beaded plugs… he's taken them all. gets sooo fucked out and moans so pretty when he's filled to the brim. once got sent a dragon didlo n had one of the best nights of his life. it’s his most viewed live and many people have asked for a recreation. this time they wanna see how far woo can stretch with you in the picture…

manhandling. push him around. throw him around. pls. even non-sexual occasions where you pick him up and toss him onto a surface, woo is alr opening his legs and ready to let you do as you please. really likes chokeholds where your arm is wrapped around his throat and holding him against you when you fuck. pin his legs open when he’s being a brat or keep him still when he tries to squirm away from the pleasure, tears in his eyes and moaning like a girl. he can take it.

praise kink. woo likes to act like he doesn't care abt what others think and pushes that narrative constantly. bc, shit, haters are gonna hate and in a vulnerable industry like sex work where depravity runs high, he protects himself. but who's gonna protect him? 🫵🏾. tell him he's perfect, tell him yk how hard he works and how much you appreciate him for all of him, for his authenticity in everything he does. he doesn’t need/want it often during sex but it’s a guaranteed way to make him fall apart below you ♡.

— camboy!beomgyu

soft dominance. beomgyu's more often than not pulling your strings bc he likes riling you up. but it's never really that deep for you, hence no punishments. he gets off with a slap on the wrist, a.k.a. being tossed around a bit more, spoken to a little more harshly, fucked a touch harder. s'not long before he's crying and begging you to be nicer. so spoilt. sometimes you leave it up to the viewers if they think he's learnt his lesson. usually it’s not until he's drooling & incoherent, and can only think of you. they rarely get to see him in such a mess and he gets off to the humiliation.

soft sex. most of the time. his intentions for recording are for a relaxing time: gyu hates feeling rushed and likes to take things at his own pace. prefers it when you fuck slow, but not too slow, and deep. hard thrusts where it feels like he’s drowning in ecstasy really make him lose his mind. soft kisses on his face, back, shoulder, chest, ankles, whatever's close enough to your lips when you're inside him, balance out the firm snap of your hips perfectly. orgasms the hardest like this, shaking and gushing copious amounts of cum all over himself with how full both his heart and his ass is.

pet play. duh. will sometimes put on the puppy or bear ear headbands his viewers send. he’s down to play the part, esp if there's a matching plug! beomgyu really ups his game when you're involved, panting, grunting, and growling in your ear as you make him feel good. enjoys his pet names (puppy, pup, beomie bear, teddy, etc.). fucking LOVES getting mounted, like 'ass-up-face-down-your-full-body-weight-pounding-him-into-the-bed-like-dogs' mounted. he'd never admit it (doesn't need to w the way his dick leaks) but submitting to you in this way turns him on so fucking much. and confirms the love and trust he has in you as his friend turned lover. his viewers EAT. IT. UP.

marking. goes hand in hand with the pet play. likes when you leave a couple of bite marks and bruises on his body. he loves the sight of the dark marks against his pale skin; something like the dragon tainting the prince(ss) in his tower. the marks also remind his viewers that he's spoken for, esp during solo shoots. likes pressing on them and feeling the burn, or running a finger over their edges in recollection. even in the moment, he fucks heavy with the idea of you claiming him and him claiming you too (biiig biter).

phone sex. when the camera isn’t on, and there’s distance between you, gyu’s calling late at night bc he misses you. both his body and his mind. sometimes he’s ranting, sometimes he’s bragging, other times he just needs to hear your voice. after conversing he craves more, a physical connection. you’re the same. direct his thoughts and tell him where to touch, let him hear how he makes you feel too: hot and wet. always on his best behaviour for these calls, like a love-sick puppy. get back to his side quick, okay?

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cherspastries · 2 days ago

Note

Okay, but here's another question... What jobs do you think the drivers would have of they weren't a driver? Or what they would major in? (loved the story btw!! :))

YOU DON’T GET WHAT YOU WISH FOR,

YOU GET WHAT YOU WORK FOR.

WORK FOR IT

2025 Grid x Reader

SUMMARY 𐙚 What jobs I think the drivers would have if they weren’t in F1. Part 1, where I talk about the reader’s job, is here! I will be referencing this so I advise reading it first.

WARNINGS 𐙚 N/A!

WORD COUNT 𐙚 2.9K

A/N 𐙚 It was really hard to decide for all of these guys. Some of them do have doubles because I couldn’t think of anything else 😬 Maybe a university AU with some of the younger drivers is needed now. Love ♥︎ Cher

DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN

RedBull ෆ

Max Verstappen

Motorsports

Unfortunately I’m a firm believer that if it’s not F1 for Max Verstappen, it’s gonna be a different motorsport. He has racing so deeply imbedded in his soul that I just can’t imagine him doing anything else. I also think that he could potentially be a streamer in another universe, but I think he’s a racer first. Imagine MotoGP Max, or maybe even Nascar Max. He loves the thrill and that’s not something he’ll abandon. So, if he doesn’t make it to F1, there’s lots of other options for this boy.

Let’s go with MotoGP. Imagine the badass pairing of a bartender and a motorcyclist. It’s quite literally a match made in heaven. Bonus points if the reader also rides motorcycles, so they can go out on adventures together. Or, if that’s not your style, he loves to have you ride on the back with your arms around his waist and all.

Yuki Tsunoda

Chef

This guy loves his food, which leads me to believe that culinary school is in his alternative future. I think Yuki could live it up as a chef that experiments with food from all corners of the world— Except America. He refuses to partake in the oily food from America, as we’ve all learned.

And hey, a chef and a seamstress isn’t exactly the expected duo, but it could work. Maybe you’re the one making the uniforms for his restaurant, and designing the logos and such. Even if he’s just in the kitchen working his magic, he still needs to look good to represent his business! It works, okay?

Mercedes ෆ

George Russell

Politician

There was a video where drivers made up what another driver would do if not F1, and a lot of people suggested George was a politician, and I 100% agree. While he said he’d be a farmer, I think he has a talent that shouldn’t go to waste. He’s a very convincing fellow that has a knack for following the rules and maybe even being a bit bossy. He exudes the vibes of someone who is a great leader, so he’d likely be a pretty decent politician.

I don’t really think your jobs intertwine much, but that’s just fine. Graphic design doesn’t have the biggest role to play in politics, but he always tries to find a place to squeeze your work in. Besides, it’s not like they have to match up perfectly anyway. You both have your own respective lives, and the life that you share together. He’s still super supportive nonetheless.

Kimi Antonelli

Scientist

Scientist Kimi! I don’t know why, but I can see it. I think if we want to be more specific, he’d study pharmacology, but I can really picture him working with chemicals in some way. I need to see Kimi in a lab coat and goggles messing around with chemicals. Maybe he’s not the best and maybe it blows up in his face, but he’s having a lot of fun. Maybe he’ll accidentally create a whole new element.

And he has his tutor girlfriend to stand by his side and support him. You’re there to offer knowledge and help in all fields. An intelligent girl matched with an equally intelligent boy is a nearly dangerous duo, and people acknowledge that. All of his friends are a little scared. You have the potential to someday rule the world— But with your childish smile and his cute curls nobody would take you seriously. Maybe it’s best you stick to science.

Ferrari ෆ

Charles Leclerc

Architect

An architect and a fashion designer. Yes, this seems about right. You’re both designing, just in your own way. I’d like to think you each contribute and help each other with the designing process, and it’s always easy to tell what aspects were thrown forth by the other person. Suddenly he’s bringing math equations into your designs, and you’re bringing little details and trends to his.

Charles himself said he’d like to be an architect, but if I were to assign him something from my own mind, I’d probably say music. It’s clear it’s something he’s very passionate about, and he’s very musically talented too. I can picture the reader sitting with him and resting her head on his shoulder while he plays.

Lewis Hamilton

Fashion designer

Yet another obvious choice. Maybe him and Charles’ girlfriend can be friends. Anyway, a makeup artist and a fashion designer kind of go hand in hand. You’re in the fashion industry, and you both work with specific clientele. Maybe you’re even a package deal. Celebrities hire one of you, and they end up hiring the other too. Just for fun.

I think this choice is obvious because it’s clearly that Lewis has a talent for fashion. His work with the Met Gala, and his day to day wear just proves that. He’s always dressed to the tens in my opinion, and I think he should spread that knowledge with the world. He’s a genius!

McLaren ෆ

Oscar Piastri

Engineer

Yes, Oscar’s expressed before that he would go into engineering if it weren’t for his current career. It makes sense. The boy’s smart, and his family has a history with racing so it’s not like mechanical engineering is all that far off. I can even see him being a track engineer. I think he’d have some decent strategies to share with a team, and would be smart enough to handle all the numbers and stats.

Now, it’s not really like his occupation matches up with yours either, but again… I think that’s okay. If he was an F1 engineer, I could see him taking you along with him, so as a food critic you’re getting to travel the world and experience dishes from different regions. So maybe in that sense, you’re perfect for each other. Who knows.

Lando Norris

Similar to George, a lot of the other drivers said that if he wasn’t a racing pilot, he should be a DJ. Esteban Ocon himself said that Lando got up behind the booth and made some decent beats, so with a bit more practice he could definitely do it. He also has the necessary party boy energy to pull off being a DJ, so it makes a lot of sense in the long run.

I’m not sure how well a teacher and DJ would work, but I think that’s ultimately part of the charm. You’re total opposites. One of you is quiet and collected while the other is loud and chaotic and it makes you relationship consistently interesting and engaging for you both. If you were paired with people exactly like yourselves, you’d probably get bored after awhile. Each of you brings something new to the table.

Aston Martin ෆ

Fernando Alonso

Football / Soccer

This was hard because, much like Max, it was hard to see Fernando doing anything but racing. I was almost tempted to keep him in motorsports as well, but I chose not to because I remember Fernando saying he liked football, and that just makes a lot of sense in my mind. I definitely don’t think he’d play football as long as he raced for F1, so after he reaches a certain age he retires, but I can see him pursuing this career at some point.

The life of a football player with a wedding planner wife is rather domestic. You’re constantly doting on him and taking care of him, treating your retired lover as if he’s old and decaying. He insists that he can do everything on his own, but he does like the attention nonetheless, so Fernando sits back and lets you pamper him like he’s your princess. Hey, whatever keeps the man busy.

Lance Stroll

Business man

I was unsure about this one, but I think considering that his dad is a business man, it makes sense for Lance to follow a similar destiny. Maybe he also ends up owning his own F1 team, who knows? I think he’s a very diplomatic guy, even if he’s somewhat introverted. That doesn’t mean he’s rude or anything, so talking business would come along just fine for Lance! He’s a very smart guy. I’m picturing him as a CEO of sorts.

He doesn’t play about you, either. You get to act as his sugar baby for a while, even though you make plenty of money yourself. He loves getting to tell you to buy whatever you want using his card, and he loves spoiling you. If you need new equipment for writing, he’ll buy it. If you need help getting your books published, he’ll talk to people for you. If you need help advertising, he’s on it. Lance is there to assist you in everything. He’s your partner in crime!

Alpine ෆ

Pierre Gasly

Football / Soccer

Okay I KNOW, this is unoriginal, but if you look at Pierre’s instagram there’s lots of photos of him playing football and I think it just makes sense to me. He kind of has the appropriate build for one too? Muscular, but also very strong legs and a good runner. I can’t really describe it, just trust me.

And, since he’s still in a sport, you can continue to be his social media manager and like everything related to him. People are still stunned to find out that Pierre runs his accounts and is the one viewing everything, but they’re even more stunned to find out that a majority of the time you’re the one actually liking the posts because every time you see anything related to him you giggle uncontrollably and spam the like button. Still a perfect, dynamic duo.

Franco Colapinto

Journalism

This guy likes his gossip. Franco’s charismatic enough to be able to easily interview people, and I firmly believe in that. He loves catching up on all the latest gossip and posting about it online for everyone to see. It doesn’t matter if it’s none of his business, because he’s gonna make it his business. Either way, he tends to be fairly respectful about what he posts. Even if he wants to phrase it in the most dramatic way possible, Franco sticks to the facts. And what he assumes are facts.

He likes to work on his pieces while he’s in your shop. He’s usually sitting behind the counter while you tend to customers, typing away on his newest report back to his boss. Every now and then he gets a few weird looks, almost like people recognize him, but they aren’t quite sure if it’s actually him or not.

Williams ෆ

Carlos Sainz

Boxer

Ohhhh… Okay sorry let me compose myself. Carlos gives off these casual aggressive vibes that tell you he’s not someone to be messed with, but also he’s a very sweet guy deep down. He loves his job, but he makes sure to remain unbiased and sportsmanly throughout, because it’s important to ensure that your opponent knows they did a great job too. He always said he’d remain an athlete if he was to do something other than F1, and while boxing probably isn’t on the top of his list, I can see it happening.

A boxer and a baker. It’s very much giving cute wife who bosses her strong husband around like it’s no big deal. Sure, he’s a champion in the ring, but when Carlos comes home he has to listen to you first. You’re the one wearing the pants in this relationship. He doesn’t mind, either. It’s nice to come home and be ordered around by you.

Alex Albon

Golfer

Vet gf and golfer bf. Makes perfect sense to me. He’s out there enjoying a nice day on the fresh green grass while you’re taking care of very cute patients. It’s a win for you both, and at the end of the day you both get to come home and relax together and talk about your days.

I think golf suits Alex. I know he always jokes about being terrible about it, especially in comparison to his actual girlfriend (The beautiful that is Lily Muni He) but if he had years of experience like he does with F1, I think he’d be really talented! It’s something that he loves already, so it makes sense.

Visa Cash App Racing Bulls ෆ

Liam Lawson

Actor

Uhm, hello have you seen him acting in the VCARB tiktoks? Perfect. But also I think he’d be typecasted as a stereotypical teen in the 90’s. He looks young enough, and that’s exactly how he dresses and acts. He’d be very charming with younger audiences due to his boyish charm. He just needs to brush up on those acting skills a bit and then we have the perfect actor.

And hey, you’re an actress. It fits perfectly. Maybe the two of you meet on set. Maybe you’re even casted to play lovers, and then it just ends up being that you come out of the experience actually dating. Who’s to say if it actually works out. Lots of actors say it’s hard to date your co-worker, but you guys would have to disagree, because you’re going strong!

Isack Hadjar

Physicist

Isack’s dad is a physicist! I think it would be cute if he followed in his footsteps. Most F1 drivers do follow in their parent’s footsteps, especially their dad, but Isack didn’t. However, imagining a universe where he did is interesting. He’d probably have the brain for it, he’d just have to dedicate a lot of his time to school, which might be hard.

A physicist and a photographer. I think you guys both like to discuss your more nerdy occupations. You get to rant about photo editing and camera settings, and he gets to rant about astrophysics and a lot of stuff you don’t entirely understand, but you enjoy hearing nonetheless. This is my favorite duo, never stop being a nerd.

Kick Sauber ෆ

Nico Hülkenberg

Male model

Nobody can convince me otherwise. He has the perfect face for modeling. Ruggedly handsome with a slight stubble and nice hair. I almost gave Carlos this role, but I think Nico is perfect for a model. If he hasn’t already received offers, he should, because he’s 37 and he looks fantastic still.

A model and a sommelier is a great duo, actually. You both have jobs seen as sophisticated. You’re a killer duo, the type of couple that can kill with your looks alone. He’s always impressed by your extensive knowledge, and you’re impressed by just how beautiful he is. You like to show him off at events you’re invited to, and he likes to do the same himself. Power couple. End of sentence.

Gabriel Bortoleto

Sports commentator

Not sure of this one either. I think Gabi would be a very fun commentator, always making silly quips and witty jokes that draws the audience in while retaining that necessary sports knowledge. At first he’d definitely let the other commentators do a lot of the talking, but once he’s warmed up to the environment, you hear him just as much as you hear the others. There’s no more hiding!

I think a streamer and a commentator is a silly duo as well. Maybe sometimes you stream sports and commentate it to mimic your boyfriend, which he always pretends to be offended by, but he thinks it’s adorable in reality. He likes showing up on your streams too. I love them. I’m jealous of you, reader.

Haas ෆ

Oliver Bearman

Male model

ALRIGHT I KNOW. I’m being unoriginal again, but have you SEEN Ollie?! He’s absolutely model material as well. Tall, handsome, fit. He might need some training on how to pose and walk a runway, but he’ll get it down eventually. I can also see him being like a hand model for watches and jewelry and such. He has very nice, soft hands that are still very masculine.

A painter and a model are you SERIOUS? I know I wrote it but I’m also fangirling because wow. He can quite literally be your muse. He doesn’t even have to sit there, because there’s thousands of beautiful pictures online for you to use. Although it does make the experience a lot more special when he offers to be your live model and pose for you. It’s like something only you get to see. Yeah… Huge fan of this.

Esteban Ocon

Comic book editor

PLEASE he would have a BLAST. He gets to read all these superhero comics, and he actually gets to contribute to the process of making them. I don’t know I just love the idea of a superhero fanatic, especially someone who loves Spiderman like Estie, getting to edit the scripts for comics. He’d be so into it, too. Like “this idea is unoriginal, so you should go for something like this” because he’s already read so many comics out there that he can recite plot lines from a lot of them.

And trust that I am a huge fan of goddess girlfriend and loser boyfriend. A model with a comic book editor? Nobody would see it coming. Imagine pulling up to the red carpet, cameras flashing as a tall, handsome figure emerges from the limo and it’s… Oh, it’s just some guy they’ve never seen before, but you look so happy that it’s impossible to harbor any judgement. It’s adorable how much you two love each other.

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4kozy · 2 days ago

Text

sophia as ur monster gf hcs

━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━

sophia is a vampire, so messes in your home is a guarantee. she’s a messy eater; regardless of if it’s your blood or someone else’s, there’s gonna be a lot of cleaning up afterwards.

vamp soph has very pointy ears and teeth. she doesn’t have claws–common misconception–but she likes to get acrylics to match the look. she’s deathly pale when hungry, a big problem for her because she misses the natural color of her lips from time to time, but hates having to feed to get it back.

vamp soph mentioned feeding on you as nonchalantly as she could ( so as obvious as possible ) at the start of your relationship… saying how good you smelled, how much she wanted to try you, how feeding was an honor… it was kinda cute, so you kept teasing her as if you never heard any of it. she got so sick of it😭 she almost tackled you so you’d listen… ( ended differently than planned )

vamp soph always kisses you deep before eating–she says it makes you taste better, but you think it’s an excuse to make out. you also know that it’s to relax you before her fangs pierce your pulse, and that way, it hurts you a lot less. ( sometimes she gets drunk off of it, not stopping until you weakly push her off, in which case she profusely apologizes, giving you the aftercare of the gods🙏 )

vamp soph does NOT go outside. no, the sun doesn’t burn her alive, but it might as well… she also doesn’t do well in temperatures that aren’t moderate. fall and early spring are the times you go out the most–not too cold; not too hot.

vamp soph would sooner fly you everywhere you need to go than invest in a car. she thinks they’re the root of all evil, and would rather you stay home anyways.

vamp soph is very expressive–she never has to say that she’s feeling anything because she wears her heart on her face…? she’s upset? oh, you know. she’s pleased? oh, honey we can tell. you don’t tell her this either, because she will lie in your face about how she’s feeling even though it’s really obvious.

when vamp soph first fed on you, it kinda linked you two together. when you feel physical pain, so does she. it’d be a bit more romantic if you weren’t so clumsy at the job.

vamp soph doesn’t sleep period. she will lay in bed with you with her arms crossed and eyes open. she is literally counting the seconds until you wake up again. she never brings it up because she knows you like sleeping with her and you’d feel bad.

vamp soph can’t eat anything but blood ( and odder enough, raw butter ) and STILL takes the time out to make you dinner; yes, it’s good asf; yes, you ask for seconds and thirds.

vamp soph likes to play games with you more than anything. you two don’t play collaborative games anymore–a phantom woman knocked on your door and kinda cussed y’all out… ( you guys apologized and now hang out regularly. sophia has to wear 3 layers though. )

vamp soph likes to collect antique sharp objects! it’s cool until you’re asleep and wake up to sophia holding a broadsword over your face! more incidents of falling weapons occur and you thank whatever otherworldly force for her reflexes.

vamp soph broods like a teenage boy and listens to ptv very obnoxiously when it’s her journaling time. she likes to say that vampires have concerns the world would blow up over… falling over while attempting to stand up after a week of flying straight is not one of them.

vamp soph is super protective over you. remember how she can feel when you get hurt? it took months for her to stop showing up at the job after a prick–she still shows up for a fall every time; she also takes you home, because why would anyone beef with a vampire?

when vamp soph met you, she swore off eating anybody else… you think it’s cus she’s picky, and she thinks you guys are soulmates.

vamp soph loves receiving cheek kisses. especially after rescuing you from work, it’s like her special reward.

like manon, i also see vamp soph as being lesser on the possessive side, just because everyone can see that you’re taken. also she’s really confident in herself; you’d be stupid to try anything. you are very very smart! ( unfortunately some people are not. sophia knows she swore off eating anyone else but when that idiot man was messing with you, she got so mad she couldn’t control herself. she didn’t fully eat him–he tasted quite gross–but the point was made when his mangled body was found off the side of the road… oh how protective your girlfriend gets. )

vamp soph’s fav thing to do with you is talk. conversations with are never dull, so you enjoy them too!

vamp soph was turned a long, long, long time ago. you don’t ask about her age, or who turned her, it’s a topic that isn’t taken very well. ( sophia spent the first thirty years of her life post-turn almost animal-like–vampires only get more human the more they feed )

another ability of vamp soph’s that backfires on her a lot is her shape shifting. this one is still one she has yet to control, her body usually going haywire when you make her flustered. ( tugging on her cheeks teasingly ended up with them stretching to 22 inches. it took a lot of butter, hard work, and apologies stifled by laughter–on your end–to fix it. )

vamp soph can also hypnotize you. she doesn’t realize when she’s doing it most of the time, until she jokingly tells you to die on the game and you rush to the nearest weapon ( which wasn’t far due to her odd obsession with them ) and she has to restrain you for the next hour.

vamp soph is really loud and argumentative; this is only exacerbated by the fact that she’s lived for hundreds of years so she thinks she knows better than you do. when google gets pulled out, phones get broken. and better phones get bought…

when vamp soph gets asked her favorite era of life, she will 100% without fail say it’s the one with you in it. it’s not meant to be corny, it’s genuinely how she feels about you.

vamp soph likes taking extravagant baths with you, and she will do one every night with a different theme. your favorite was pride month ‘23.

you like to massage vamp soph a lot! for such a homebody she gets a bunch of knots in her back. ( it has something to do with her workout routine… flying… for a long time… )

vamp soph likes to capture spiders in your home and name them. you currently have a lot more than you’d be comfortable with, but you love sophia more than you hate spiders.

you like to crochet vamp soph new clothes all the time. you originally picked it up as a side hobby, but seeing her enjoy every piece–from the ugly ducklings to the beautiful swans–you continued. she wears everything and proudly shows them off to everyone in the building, despite your embarrassment.

you and vamp soph’s favorite place ( outside of your home, that is ) is the beach! especially at night, you both love it there.

where the phantom neighbor’s apartment is minimal with barely anything but string lights and the occasional clothes on the floor, you and vamp soph turn your place into a maximalist dream–there is stuff everywhere, in a way that’s full but not cluttered. it reminds her childhood home in a way, her father was a toy store owner in their town.

you laugh at all the jokes vamp soph tells, even when they aren’t funny, just because you know your laughter makes her happy.

after 4 years of being together, and multiple internal monologues, you finally bring up to vamp soph about your wish to be turned. sophia stares at you like you’ve grown three heads. this is equally because of her trauma and her need to keep you safe at all costs. she tries to argue with you, saying you’ll need to eat a lot to turn human, you’ll have horrible pain for the first few weeks–or in her case years, and that living forever means watching the people you love die. you’re determined though, telling her that it’s forever with her or nothing, and you’d be willing to do anything it takes for it to work. after a few months of pleading, she finally relents, and just as she told you, it hurts like fucking hell. she brings you humans every day, hoping that you’ll have it just a bit easier, taking care of you the best way she knows how. when you recover, all you can feel is overwhelming love, and you know you’ve made the right decision 🩷

━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━

wow vampire sophia😍😍??? how surprising!!! all i know is that i need her–and bad. (in a tone of voice that is not appropriate)

#katseye ⭐️#wlw #katseye x reader #katseye imagines #sophia laforteza #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia my filipino enchantress how i love and miss you #ko’s works

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theseh00perscanh00p · 1 day ago

Text

Coaching Violation: Part 2

paige x azzi

a/n: mannn to the anon that gave me this suggestion thank youuuu because i'm truly hooked on this dynamic

word count: 4.9k

Early Morning – Film Room

Paige’s POV

The film room was cold. Fluorescent lights buzzing. The only sound was the click of the remote and the occasional squeak of a sneaker from the court down the hall.

Paige sat alone, hoodie sleeves pushed up, pen tapping against her legal pad as she watched the same baseline out-of-bounds set for the fourth time in a row.

Click. Rewind. Play. Pause. Scribble.

Click. Rewind. Play. Pause. Cross out. Start again.

The notes weren’t good enough. The angles weren’t right. The rotations were late. Or maybe she was just late — to everything. To this job. To letting go. To moving the hell on.

She leaned back, shoulders tense, eyes flicking toward the top of the screen.

There she was again.

#35.

Azzi, moving through defenders like water, setting the pace, seeing things before they unfolded. Controlled. Confident.

Too confident.

Click. Pause.

The screen froze on Azzi mid-cut, head turned slightly toward the camera. The edge of a smirk barely visible.

Paige stared at it too long.

Her jaw clenched.

She tossed the remote on the table and rubbed her eyes with both hands.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, as if hearing herself say it might snap her out of it.

But it didn’t.

Because now she could hear her voice again — Azzi’s voice — from the day before, soft and dangerous in front of the press:

“I’m gonna do everything I can to be the best player for Coach P.”

And she’d meant it. Not just in the way a player says something for media points. No — it was laced with something real. Something Paige hadn’t let herself feel since—

Vegas.

Damn it.

She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to remember the flicker of candlelight from the hotel bar, the click of the door shutting behind them, the way Azzi’s laugh sounded when it was muffled against her shoulder.

Or the way her fingertips had skimmed across Azzi’s ribs in the dark — slow, reverent — like she was tracing a play she didn’t know how to run.

The gasp Azzi made. The heat of her skin. The way Paige had wanted to stay.

She blinked, hard.

No.

She shoved the image out of her head, stood up too quickly, her chair scraping loud against the tile.

There was no room for that. Not here. Not now. Not with her coaching this team and Azzi in a Sparks jersey, looking at her like—

Like that night hadn’t ended in silence.

Like Paige hadn’t walked away.

She picked up the clipboard, flipped her drill plan to a fresh page, and started over from scratch. Again.

Third rewrite this morning.

Didn’t matter.

She’d work it out. She always did.

Even if her hands were shaking just a little when she gripped the pen.

Pre-practice Locker Room

Azzi’s POV

Her jersey hung in the locker like it belonged there.

#35 stitched in clean gold and purple.

A new start.

A new city.

And still, the same ache sat in her chest like it had unpacked with her.

Azzi tugged on her compression sleeve, then peeled it off again — too tight. Or maybe she was just restless. Something in her body wouldn’t settle. Not since that first practice. Not since the look Paige had given her like she was just another player, just another job.

She wasn’t supposed to care.

They weren’t supposed to even speak again, let alone orbit the same facility five days a week.

And yet, here they were.

Azzi sat on the bench, elbows on her knees, eyes fixed on the floor as players drifted around her — lacing sneakers, sipping pre-workout, tossing jokes back and forth.

She wasn’t in the mood.

Because none of them knew what it was like to have seen Paige.

Not the version who stood at the front of the gym clipboard-in-hand, posture perfect, voice steel.

The other one.

The one who had kissed her slow. Whispered between breaths. Traced her ribs like she was something precious. The one who had made her laugh so hard she had to pull a pillow over her face just to quiet down.

Azzi swallowed hard, a rush of heat pressing behind her eyes.

God. Why do I still care?

They’d had one night. One damn night.

But Paige hadn’t faked it. She couldn’t have. Not with the way she’d looked at her afterward — like she wasn’t sure whether to stay or run.

And now she was running at full sprint, clipboard-first, pretending like it never happened.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek.

She wasn’t even sure what she wanted anymore. An apology? A second chance? Or just some acknowledgment that Paige hadn’t walked out of that hotel untouched.

Because she hadn’t.

A voice broke through the fog — one of the assistants calling for stretch.

Azzi stood, rolled her shoulders back, tucked her hair into a bun.

If Paige thought she could hide behind plays and drills forever, she was wrong.

Azzi had seen through her once.

And if there were still cracks in the armor?

She was going to find them.

Paige’s POV

Whistle in hand. Clipboard tight to her chest. Voice low, direct.

“Drill two. Half-court motion. Full contact. Let’s clean it up.”

Paige didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. Her tone did the work — sharp, composed, impossible to misread.

She kept her eyes on the movement. The floor. The rotations. The drills.

Not on Azzi.

Not even once.

Which was harder than it should’ve been.

Because Azzi was flawless again — flowing through sets with ease, voice clear on switches, every step purposeful. She wasn’t showboating. Wasn’t smirking. Wasn’t performing for attention.

She was just… locked in. Quiet. Present. Dangerous.

And somehow that was worse.

Because if Azzi had cracked a joke, Paige could’ve snapped back. If she had smirked or said something smart under her breath, Paige could’ve disciplined her and moved on. But this?

This calm. This discipline. This poise?

It felt like a dare wrapped in grace.

And it was working.

The gym pulsed around them — sneakers on hardwood, the faint echo of bounce passes and shoe squeaks and shouted screens.

But there was a second silence layered under it all.

Azzi hadn’t said a word to her today.

Not one.

No Coach P.

No smug glances.

No flirtatious edge in her voice.

It was like she’d flipped a switch, and Paige… hated how much she noticed.

She shifted her clipboard to her other arm and walked the baseline slowly, correcting foot placement here, calling out spacing there.

She still didn’t look at #35.

But she felt her.

Every time she moved. Every time she shifted her weight. Every time her voice cut clean across the court to direct a play.

It was haunting.

The silence between them wasn’t absence — it was weight. Everyone felt it. You could see it in the way players kept glancing between them, waiting for something to snap, or spark, or shift.

But Paige wouldn’t give it to them. Wouldn’t give it to her.

This was her team. Her court. Her rules.

And if that meant biting her cheek until it bled just to keep her face neutral?

So be it.

Scrimmage was live.

Tempo was high. Bodies colliding. Voices overlapping.

It was exactly how Paige liked it — loud, messy, real basketball. The kind that showed you everything a box score couldn’t.

She paced the sideline, whistle tucked into her hoodie collar, eyes sharp.

“Talk through the weak side! Don’t wait for the rotation — anticipate it!”

The second unit was running hard. Rickea was giving Azzi hell on-ball, trying to impress. Paige clocked it. It was good energy.

But even before the play unfolded, she saw it happening in slow motion.

Rickea pressed too high. Azzi pivoted, protecting the ball. Cam rotated late on help — not malicious, just overeager — and stepped straight into Azzi’s drive.

Bodies tangled. Contact hit hard.

Azzi went down with a loud slap of skin and hardwood.

The room held its breath.

And Paige — before she could think, before she could breathe — was already moving.

She was halfway onto the court before she caught herself, a sharp “Hey—!” already halfway out of her mouth.

Azzi sat up slowly, face unreadable, hand pressed to her shoulder where she took the brunt.

“Sub out,” Paige said, sharper than she meant to. “Now.”

Cam froze. “Coach, it was clean—”

“I said out.”

Silence fell. Paige exhaled through her nose, sharp and controlled.

Azzi got to her feet on her own, brushing herself off, giving Paige a quick — almost unreadable — glance.

But Paige saw it.

Saw the flicker of surprise. And something else. Something softer. Like thank you hidden under pride.

Shit.

She turned on her heel, calling the next set like nothing had happened.

But her pulse was loud in her ears. Louder than the sneakers. Louder than the ball.

You can’t do this. You can’t react like that. Not with her.

Azzi’s POV

She wasn’t hurt. Not really.

The shoulder sting would fade.

What wouldn’t fade? The look on Paige’s face the second she hit the floor.

For a moment — just one — Paige looked at her like she did that night.

Like she still cared.

Azzi’s lips twitched, almost a smirk, but she buried it.

So Paige could pretend all she wanted. Coach voice, coach rules, coach distance.

But she saw it now.

Beneath the hoodie and the whistle and the ice?

That woman from Vegas was still in there.

And Azzi? She wasn’t letting her go that easy.

Post-practice Locker Room

The locker room was a little too quiet for post-scrimmage.

There was music playing — something low and vibey off someone’s playlist — but it felt like background noise to the tension Azzi still hadn’t shaken.

She sat at her locker, towel around her shoulders, hairline damp, shoulder stiff.

The fall wasn’t serious, but the reaction? That was the part echoing in her head.

Paige crossing half the court without thinking. The sharp edge in her voice when she called Cam out. The way her eyes had locked on Azzi like she was the only one that mattered.

Azzi’s skin still tingled from it.

She rubbed her shoulder absently, trying to play it cool, when Rickea slid onto the bench beside her.

“You good?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. Just landed wrong.”

Rickea raised a brow. “Didn’t look like Coach thought it was that casual.”

Azzi looked over, caught the teasing glint in her eyes.

Rickea leaned in just slightly, lowering her voice. “What’s going on with you two?”

Azzi paused. Just for a breath.

Then she smirked — easy, practiced, not quite real.

“Nothing.”

Rickea snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Azzi shrugged, turning back to her locker, voice lighter than she felt. “I’m just here to hoop. Not get into drama with the boss.”

It was technically true.

It just wasn’t the whole truth.

Because Rickea didn’t know what it felt like to have had that mouth on your neck and that voice in your ear and then be coached like you were just one of twelve. Didn’t know what it was like to go from being held to being ignored — coldly, carefully, professionally.

Azzi stared down at her shoes, jaw tight.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew the stakes.

She’d never jeopardize Paige’s job. Or her own.

But the part that scared her?

She wasn’t sure how long she could pretend this was just basketball.

Practice Facility – After Hours

The gym was dim, lit only by the overhead emergency lights and the glow from the scoreboard clock, frozen at 00:00.

Everyone else had cleared out an hour ago. Trainers. Teammates. Staff.

But Azzi stayed.

She always stayed when her mind was too loud and her chest too tight — when the only thing that made sense was the feel of the ball in her hands and the sound of it kissing the rim.

She took another shot. Swish. Caught the rebound. Reset. Shot again.

Her shoulder still ached from the fall, but she didn’t care. The pain kept her grounded. Reminded her this was real. Not a memory. Not a dream. Not Vegas.

She turned, caught the ball, and froze.

Paige stood in the doorway of the coach’s office, clipboard in hand, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows.

Azzi’s pulse tripped over itself.

They stared at each other across the half court line — too much air and not enough space between them.

Neither of them spoke.

Paige stepped onto the court, her sneakers echoing softly. That same silent intensity. Controlled. Lethal. It made Azzi’s stomach twist.

Azzi let the ball fall into her hands again, spinning it slowly under her fingers. “Forgot something?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Just nodded toward the bench. “My clipboard.”

Azzi tossed a look over her shoulder. “You always grab it like it’s a shield.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “You always stay late like you’re trying to prove something.”

“Maybe I am.”

Silence again.

Paige moved to walk past her, just barely brushing Azzi’s arm. Skin grazed skin — a whisper of contact. Barely there.

But it was enough.

Enough to set off a spark in Azzi’s chest that spread too fast. Enough to make Paige stop in her tracks, just for a second too long.

Azzi didn’t look at her. Couldn’t.

Paige stayed still for a moment, breath shallow, her body just inches from Azzi’s. The heat from their brief contact still lingered, coiled beneath her skin like a live wire.

Her eyes flicked down for the briefest second — not to Azzi’s shoulder, not to the ball, but to her mouth. Then back up.

A war waged just behind Paige’s eyes. You could see it. Feel it. Like she was counting every reason not to lean in.

She finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“This can’t happen.”

Low. Controlled. Ice beneath fire.

Azzi’s breath hitched. She turned her head, eyes burning into Paige’s profile. “Then stop looking at me like that.”

Paige didn’t flinch, but something cracked in her eyes — a flicker, small but real. Her throat moved like she wanted to respond, but nothing came out.

Azzi didn’t look away. “You think pretending it didn’t happen makes it easier? Because it doesn’t. Not for me.”

The silence wrapped around them, thick and hot and unbearable.

Paige blinked hard, like she could force the memory away — that hotel room, that laugh, that impossible softness.

Then she finally tore her eyes from Azzi’s.

Paige’s jaw clenched. Her grip on the clipboard tightened until her knuckles whitened. Her entire body seemed frozen in place, like she wanted to move forward but couldn’t.

She said nothing. Just turned, too fast, and walked away.

No explanation. No softening. No second glance. Just the sound of her footsteps fading into the quiet.

Azzi stood alone, chest rising too fast, the echo of Paige’s presence still heavy in the air.

She shot once more. Missed.

Behind her, a phone buzzed on the scorer’s table. Her phone.

One new message.

P. (You Know the One)

Don’t stay alone in the gym after hours. Not with your shoulder like that.

Azzi stared at the screen.

No emoji. No softness. Just concern disguised as control.

She glanced at the contact name — P. (You Know the One) — and hated how honest it still was.

And it was exactly the version of Paige she couldn’t stop wanting.

Sparks Training Facility – Weight Room, Morning

Paige’s POV

The weight room was humming — plates clanking, trap bars thudding, breath short and sharp as players moved through their lifts in focused circuits.

Paige stood near the racks, clipboard in hand, checking reps off as she moved from station to station. Her expression was calm. Blank. Professional.

Except she couldn’t stop tracking #35 in her periphery.

Azzi was across the room spotting Cam on trap-bar dead lifts, focused and efficient. No laughing. No joking. No reason for Paige’s pulse to be doing what it was doing.

But it was.

Azzi’s braids were tied back tight. A soft sweat glinted at the base of her neck. Her shirt had ridden up just slightly, revealing the sliver of a scar near her ribs. And suddenly Paige was back in Vegas — fingertip to skin, breath caught, laughter half-muffled under hotel pillows.

Damn it.

She looked down, scratched through a line on her clipboard that didn’t need scratching, and moved to the next station.

“Split stance rows, four sets — let’s stay clean with the back angle!” she called out.

KK walked up beside her, sipping from her stainless bottle. She didn’t look up from the athlete she was watching when she spoke.

“You good?”

Paige didn’t flinch. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

KK shrugged, still tracking motion. “Your eyes keep drifting like you forgot which side of the gym you’re on.”

“I’m watching the floor.”

“Mmhmm.”

Paige didn’t answer. Just checked another name off, a little too fast.

KK stepped closer, voice low but pointed now. “You know I don’t care what happened before this job. But if it’s bleeding into your drills? I do.”

“It’s not,” Paige said flatly.

“Then why you gripping that pen like it’s holding you back from doing something dumb?”

Paige said nothing.

KK leaned in just a fraction more, dropping her voice like a scalpel: “You can lie to the team. You can lie to her. But don’t try it with me, Bueckers.”

Then she walked off, calling out rep cues like nothing happened.

Paige stared at her clipboard, jaw tight.

Across the room, Azzi caught a clean hang clean and reset her stance. She didn’t look over.

Not once.

Which somehow made it worse.

Coaches’ Office – Midday

The hum of the projector ran in the background, casting muted movement on the wall like it might distract from everything Paige didn’t want to talk about.

It didn’t.

She stood at the whiteboard, marking up transition schemes with one hand and gripping her coffee like it was the last tether to reality with the other.

KK was leaning back in one of the office chairs, legs stretched, arms folded. Watching her. Not even pretending not to.

Paige kept talking. “I want to adjust our rotation cadence next scrimmage. Rickea and Cam need more reps running the secondary transition, especially if we’re going to see a guard-heavy defense in preseason.”

KK blinked. “Cool.”

“But I wasn’t asking about the rotation.”

Paige didn’t turn. “Didn’t think you had to.”

KK stood, stretching with a slow, exaggerated shrug. “Just saying. You look like you’re coaching through a panic attack.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

Paige finally turned, arms crossed. “Are we gonna talk about basketball or feelings, KK?”

KK gave her a look — the kind that made rookies shrink and veterans shut up.

“You know I don’t do feelings,” she said. “But I do do problems.”

Paige said nothing. Her shoulders were too square. Her jaw too tight.

KK stepped forward, dropping her voice. “Look. I know what happened last year messed you up. You put your whole life in one lane and the universe ripped it out from under you. I get that.”

A pause.

“But if you think you can fake your way through coaching and pretend you don’t give a damn about the woman you left in a hotel room, you’re gonna get yourself caught up real fast.”

Paige blinked.

The silence that followed was heavy — not loud, but dense. Like everything in her head had collapsed inward.

“I’m not—” she started, then stopped.

KK raised a brow.

Paige swallowed. Looked at the wall like it might give her an answer.

“She’s just doing her job,” she finally said. “I’m doing mine.”

KK stepped back, letting her off the hook — for now.

“Keep telling yourself that, Coach,” she said. “But figure it out before she starts doing more than her job.”

Then she turned and left, the door swinging shut behind her.

Flashback – Las Vegas Hotel Room

The light crept in soft and golden through the edge of the blackout curtains, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets.

Paige lay still on her side, hair mussed, one arm tucked under her head, the other stretched across cool sheets.

Azzi wasn’t there.

Not entirely, anyway. She was at the edge of the bed, back turned slightly, blanket low on her spine, scrolling lazily through her phone. Her bare shoulder rose and fell with each breath, soft and unbothered.

Paige’s eyes traced the line of her neck. The curve of her waist. The same ribs her fingers had followed the night before, slow and quiet, like they were learning the shape of something they’d never forget.

She hadn’t meant to stay.

That was the thing.

It was supposed to be one drink, one night, one mistake you tuck into your past like a receipt in your back pocket.

But she’d stayed.

And now she didn’t know what the hell to do with herself.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She turned over carefully, grabbed it.

A text from her agent:

Front office’s calling early about pre-camp media. We’ll need you back by Monday.

Another buzz — a WNBA alert. A push notification about contract restructuring. The world, inching back in.

She felt the ache of it low in her ribs — the pull of reality, sharp and heavy.

Azzi turned over slightly, eyes half-closed, still sleepy. “You always wake up this early?”

Paige blinked, shoved her phone face-down. “Habit.”

Azzi smiled, lazy and real. “That’s sick.”

Paige chuckled under her breath, but it felt tight in her chest.

There was a pause — not awkward, but close.

Azzi propped herself on one elbow, looking at Paige like she was something worth staying for. “So…”

Paige looked back at her.

Then Azzi asked it — soft, tentative, but not small:

“What is this?”

A beat.

A breath.

Everything tightening at once.

Paige stared at her. At the woman who had let her in last night. The woman who touched her like she wasn’t broken, like she wasn’t just one more walking headline with too many eyes watching.

And then Paige did what she always did when something felt too much like truth.

She shut down.

Her voice was quieter than she meant it to be.

“It was just a night, Azzi.”

Azzi’s expression didn’t shift right away — just held, still, like a dropped glass that hadn’t shattered yet.

“Oh.”

Paige looked away.

Azzi didn’t ask anything else.

And Paige didn’t stay long after that.

Return to Present Day

The memory burned through her as she stood at the film board again, marker in hand, lips tight.

She blinked hard and crossed out the same line of notes she’d written three times already.

Behind her, the door creaked open.

A voice: “You good for media this afternoon?”

Paige didn’t look up.

“Yeah,” she said.

And her hand shook just slightly when she picked the marker back up.

Sparks Facility – Private Team Dinner

Azzi’s POV

The dining room was loud in the way only good teams could be — food clattering onto plates, laughter bouncing off the walls, music thumping low from someone’s speaker in the corner.

It was the first time all week they’d felt like a team instead of twelve women trying to outrun the roster cut list.

Azzi sat with one leg tucked under her at the end of the table, a half-empty plate in front of her and a bottle of water she hadn’t touched. Her hoodie sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, and her braids were still damp from a post-practice shower.

She wasn’t tired, but her smile was.

Across the room, Paige was seated next to KK, posture clean as always, shoulders square, face unreadable. She was laughing at something — or at least giving the polite version of it — but her eyes weren’t in it.

Not once had she looked Azzi’s way.

Not that Azzi was counting.

“Hey, Fudd,” Rickea called from a few seats down, eyes glinting. “What’s it like playing under your former rival?”

The table laughed — low and teasing — not mean, just curious.

Azzi blinked.

She leaned back slowly, lips curling just slightly. “Let’s just say… she still knows how to keep me on my toes.”

A few scattered oohs floated through the air.

Paige didn’t react. Not obviously.

But Azzi saw it — the slow lift of her eyes. The flash of tension in her jaw. The half-second pause in her hand before she took another sip of water.

Their eyes met. Just for a moment.

Azzi held it. Just long enough to make it count.

Then Paige looked away — back to KK, back to her perfectly untouched plate.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek, heart thudding.

She hadn’t meant to say anything that would press. But the truth was — it was hard to be this close to someone you once held with both hands and not want to test the distance.

Parking Lot – Just Outside the Sparks Facility

She hadn’t meant to linger.

Everyone else had peeled off in pairs, jackets slung over shoulders, laughing as they disappeared into the night. Azzi stood just outside the side exit, leaning against her car door, scrolling through nothing. The kind of stalling that didn’t need a reason.

The heavy door clicked open behind her.

Footsteps. Measured. Familiar.

Paige.

Azzi didn’t turn around right away.

“You always the last to leave?” Paige asked, her voice even but quieter than usual — like the dark softened her.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, offering a shrug without looking. “Someone’s gotta close it down.”

There was a pause.

“You really don’t know how to shut off, do you?”

Azzi smiled to herself, finally glancing back at Paige. “That’s rich coming from you.”

That pulled a breath of a laugh from Paige — soft, but there. And still, her eyes lingered.

Azzi added, more lightly now, “Besides… it’s quieter when no one’s around. Easier to think.”

The words hung between them. They both knew what it echoed.

FLASHBACK – All-Star Weekend, Vegas

Bar, late. Just the two of them leaning in close.

“I don’t date much,” Azzi had said, swirling ice around her glass. “Everyone either wants the version of me they see on TV, or they’re intimidated by it.”

Paige had looked at her then, really looked. “Same. People always say they can handle the schedule, the pressure, the travel. But they never stay.”

Azzi’s voice had dropped. Honest. Hopeful. “Maybe it’s different when someone else actually gets it.”

Paige hadn’t replied right away.

But the way she’d reached out, fingers brushing Azzi’s knuckles — that had said enough.

BACK TO PRESENT - Parking Lot

Now, Azzi’s voice carried a playful edge, even as her chest felt heavy. “I figured if I kept staying late, eventually someone might stay too.”

That landed harder than she meant it to.

Paige’s mouth opened, then closed again. She didn’t have a clipboard this time. Nothing to hide behind. Just her hands shoved into the front pocket of her hoodie and eyes that looked like they wanted to say something — but didn’t.

Instead, she gave a small nod. Almost imperceptible.

“Goodnight, Fudd.”

And then she walked off into the dark, the soft thunk of her car door the only sound left behind.

Azzi stood there, heart racing for reasons she didn’t want to admit.

She should’ve said more.

Or maybe Paige should’ve.

But it was always like this now — full of almosts.

And no one ever stayed.

Azzi’s Apartment – Late Night

The city outside her window was still — the kind of stillness that made every thought louder.

Azzi sat curled into the corner of her couch, knee tucked under her, hoodie pulled over one shoulder, wine glass dangling loosely between two fingers. Her playlist hummed in the background, something mellow and moody that only made her chest feel tighter.

She should’ve gone to bed.

Instead, she replayed the way Paige had looked at her in the parking lot — the flicker in her eyes, the pause before her goodbye, the way she remembered something so small from that night in Vegas.

Something Azzi had never forgotten.

I figured if I kept staying late, eventually someone might stay too.

She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

And Paige hadn’t meant to let it show on her face.

Her phone buzzed beside her — a teammate dropping a group pic from dinner. She ignored it.

Because the thread she had open was the one that mattered.

P. (You Know the One)

Still pinned. Still untouched.

Still holding the weight of everything unsaid.

Her eyes drifted to the last message.

Don’t stay alone in the gym after hours. Not with your shoulder like that.

Professional. Impersonal. Barely.

But that wasn’t what Azzi remembered.

She remembered fingertips and tension and words whispered in a hotel room when no one else was listening. She remembered Paige agreeing that their world was lonely — and maybe, just maybe, they could make it less so.

But now Paige was her coach.

And Azzi was still waiting for her to break.

She exhaled, long and shaky, then typed:

You ever gonna stop pretending it didn’t mean anything?

Paused. Deleted.

You still look at me like it did.

Backspaced again.

Another sip of wine. Another deep breath.

And then—

Azzi

This probably breaks like… eight rules, but I can’t stop thinking about your hands.

Send.

She stared at the screen.

No typing bubble.

No read receipt.

Just silence.

And suddenly, the quiet outside wasn’t nearly as loud as the one inside her.

If Paige didn’t answer…

That would hurt.

But if she did?

That might be worse.

#pazzi fics #paige x azzi #pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd

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animeomegas · 1 day ago

Text

Omega!Haku x Alpha!Reader - My Alpha

Congratulations to Haku, the winner of the second poll! It has been ages since that poll, but a lot happened in my life lmao I've been wanting to write some streamer!AU for a while though, so I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: It was equal parts flattering and embarrassing that you had apparently been named hottest alpha streamer by some weird, trashy gossip magazine. Your mate had his own thoughts on the matter, too.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: None that I can think of, other than the fact that I didn't proof read this :D

"'How does it feel to officially be the hottest streamer?'" you read out from your chat, already feeling heat rush to your face. "Ugh, chat, seriously, so fast? That stupid listicle was bullshit by the way, there are so many alpha streamers hotter than me."

Nooo, you're super hot

True, but ur up there

I was most surprised by second place lol did he pay for that position?

one time my oma walked in while i was watching the stream and asked if i was chatting with a friend... i wish ☠️

You laughed awkwardly. It was still so weird to have parasocial relationships like this. Most of your friends had already filled the bullying quota when they'd found the article listing you as the number one 'hottest and most eligible' alpha streamer, but you would prefer bullying over people agreeing. It was so embarrassing!

"'What is your type then? For no particular reason 👀'," you read out this time, rolling your eyes. "That is privileged information! I'm a delicate alpha, you know, I can't go around letting such things slip. Think of my reputation!"

i bet ur into some weird shit lmaooo

I could see you with a super cute omega, like the type to give you cavities, just my opinion

oh no but how can i build my whole new personality in order to make you love me if i don't know what you like??? /hj

Speed dating stream pls!!

are you even single?

You looked at the last question and just answered with a wink and a finger to your lips. You and Haku had been together for over three years at this point, but he was still a secret. You hadn't wanted him to get any unwanted attention, nor have his career impacted by popping up on stream, and he seemed to agree.

Haku had actually just recently decided to quit his job now that you were making enough from streaming to support both of you, and was spending time tending to the house and working on projects. He had taken to full time domesticity with effortless enthusiasm, but he hadn't mentioned anything about his stance on popping up on stream having changed, so you continued on as you had been for years, happy to follow his lead.

You turned back to your chat to find a flood of thirsty messages.

i hope ur single because then i have a chance loooool

No way an omega hasn't mated you yet, you're so perfect!

i don't even know if you're mated but u deserve better regardless lol

anyone else notice how they always wear high collared clothes? 🤔

if you do have a mate i bet they aren't good or pretty enough for you, i swear

You were about to send a message to your mods to get some of the more toxic viewers timed out for a bit, when the click of the door to your office made you jump.

Was that Haku?! You startled and quickly muted your mic and pulled off your headphones. The door was behind your monitor and cameras, so no one could see him, but that didn't mean there wouldn't somehow be a reflection or rumours spawned by the sound of his voice. Didn't he know you were live?!

Sure enough, Haku glided into the room, long, brown hair loose and floating behind him, the strands brushing over the uncovered shoulder as the oversized t-shirt he was wearing fell off at one side. He was also wearing a little touch of make up, only noticeable because you knew his face better than you knew your own. Make up? But he was staying in all day, wasn't he?

You almost forgot that you were on stream for a moment until you stood up and the chair behind made a noise against the floorboards.

"I'm on stream right now," you said quickly shooting him a grin. "I'll be done in a few hours, okay?"

Haku only tilted his head and smiled, holding up a plate with a couple of savoury pastries on it.

"I made lunch." His voice was light as airy, but there was an undercurrent that made you pause. "I thought I could bring it in."

"Thank you, baby, I'm on stream right now though." You were blocking most of the camera and the microphone was off, but you were sure they could all tell that you were talking to someone, and there would be a barrage of questions as to who, especially just after the conversation you'd been having.

"I don't mind popping in to say hello," he said, that gentle smile still on his face. "Just for a second."

You blinked, mouth moving around nothing for a moment. He wanted to pop up on stream? It took a second to comprehend what he was dropping on you so suddenly, but you managed to boot up your brain with a slightly flustered smile.

"Oh! Yes, um, of course, if you want to." Haku started moving to your desk, putting your plate on the side. "Are you sure, darling, I don't want to open a door that can't be closed, you know?"

You sat back down, glancing at your chat briefly. Haku was still out of frame, but you could see him looking also.

Everything okay???

who're they talking to 👀👀

if that's their mate i bet our favourite streamer is way out of their league lol

Haku's eyes hardened.

"I'm sure."

"Okay, okay, right, I guess we're doing this!" You took a deep breath and turned the microphone back on. You were just going to play this cool, like it was no big deal. "Sorry guys! Funny timing actually, seeing as we were just talking about this, but my mate actually came in to bring me lunch! And he's the best cook ever, aren't I lucky?"

You lifted up the plate of mushroom tartlets towards the camera, careful to keep any from sliding off.

"He wanted to say hi, so you guys better be nice to him, okay?" You tried to keep your voice light and playful, but still serious enough that your mods would know what to do about anyone who said anything cruel.

Haku, understanding your introduction, poked his head into frame and gave a little wave, bashfully tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You expected him to crouch beside you, but instead he gracefully slid straight onto your lap and leant his head against yours. One of your hands settled on his waist automatically.

"It's lovely to be formally introduced to you all. My name is Haku." A sweet smile pulled at his lips. "I've lurked in the chat before and you all seem so... friendly."

The chat went wild, moving so fast you could barely comprehend it.

UM????

Did they just summon a god live on stream???

👀👀👀ahhhhhhh

He is so pretty wtf

my self esteem is dead now lol i'm suing for damages

what is his name what is his name what is his name pls pls pls

is this a prank?

this reminds me of that meme about dating so far out of your league it makes it look like your partner is doing charity work lol

Your eyes narrowed on that last one. They didn't have to point it out so abruptly.

"That was mean," you pouted. "But admittedly true, Haku is well out of my league."

Haku giggled and the speed of the chat only increased.

wtf wtf wtf

he's laughing it's so pretty i feel like crying suddenly???

how did you two meet?

pretty boy pretty boy

this is literally the hottest omega i've ever seen

it feels like he's looking at me i'm embarrassed 😍😖

"Nonsense," Haku said, softly tucking his hair behind his ear. His shirt slipped a little more off his shoulder and you hurried to put it back. "I'm the lucky one here."

Your heart warmed, almost enough to drown out the immediately disagreeing of your chat.

Um lol

lies and slander

they wish!!

"Wha- you guys are supposed to be on my side, y'know?"

You immediately received about a hundred messaged along the lines of "not anymore".

Haku laughed again, kissing you on the cheek and silencing your complaints.

"I won't hijack your stream any longer." He turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours for a second. Even after so many years, he took your breath away like no one else. "It's been fun though... It was lovely meeting you all. Don't hog my alpha too much though, okay?"

yes sir

whatever you say 🥴

if you get lonely you can have me as well!

How long have you been dating? Are you married?

nooooo don't go, haku stream when????

Haku stood, leaving your lap cold and empty. For a moment, he leant back down, lips to your ear but certainly speaking loud enough to be picked up by the microphone.

"Eat your food," he whispered. "I made it with love, after all."

Haku reached out with a finger and ran it around the side of your face. You could feel yourself getting warm. You were probably staring at him like a fool and everyone could see, but you couldn't find the power to stop.

With that, he left the view of the camera and exiting the room, but not before giving you a wink right as the door shut behind him. His scent lingered all around you, soft and alluring, and oh so tempting.

You swallowed harshly. You really didn't want to stream anymore. Thankfully the camera was waist up.

Chat wasn't showing any signs of slowly down.

if you don't eat his food and tell us how it tastes i will literally riot

did you sell your soul for him??

does he have any siblings?? cousins?? any dynamic or gender is fine, asking for a friend

their face lol honestly i don't blame them

🥴i thought I was watching a stream today not meeting an angel

couples onlyfans when? i'd pay for it

dude i'd pay so much for it i'd be homeless

You took a deep breath and pasted a smile back on your face.

"Alright, alright, that's enough everyone, don't be creepy! Let's get back into it."

#haku #naruto #a/b/o #omegaverse #haku x reader #alpha reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #alpha!reader #omega haku

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meikooo200 · 3 days ago

Text

Teth Adam, A.K.A. Black Adam, don’t usually help the Marvels or the League.

He’s more an antihero than a hero or villain, although he constantly flies to Fawcett to fight the Marvels. He protects Kahndaq as his champion, doing what Hurut would have wanted.

He’s also a second dad to Amon, and a brother to Adrianna, both lost the alpha of his pack. So he took that place when both omegas let him get into his life.

In theory, he is still the Champion of Magic, he has his powers and a connection with the Rock of Eternity.

So, he was shocked the time he discovered Captain Marvel and his connection to the Rock, meaning that he’s also a Champion of Magic.

“I don’t know, the Wizard just gave me this power and died.” Marvel responded the first time he confronted him.

He hated Captain Marvel in that momento.

He, Teth Adam, is the Champion of Magic, a gift that Hurut gave him with his life. Not this man.

Every time he could, he went to Fawcett just to fight him, making him leave that power. Every time, he came back to Kahndaq defeated.

The strength between him and a real Champion was abysmal.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Every time he saw Marvel, Teth found new similarities to Hurut.

Same sub-gender. Same gaze. Same pure Heart. Same needed to help people. Same age.

And that curse to attract annoying people.

Adam rarely helps the Justice League on missions.

This was one of those occasions. Some random demon was trying to get into the Rock of Eternity, and Captain Marvel needed help to combat the army of little demons while he combat the big one.

The other only available person at that moment was Booster Gold.

Booster Gold, who knew Superman is a mated omega and still tried to flirt with him.

Booster Gold, who decided that trying to steal Wonder Woman’s omega was a good idea.

Booster Gold, who even John “I eat everything” Constantine rejected.

Adam knew this wouldn’t end well.

And it didn’t.

At the end of the battle, just after Captain Marvel defeated the Random Demon King, didn’t take long for Booster to go and flirt with the most powerful (and naive) omega of the first 7.

“Hey, Captain!” He said, ignoring the fact that he had to hanscup the demons. “Great job fighting that demon.”

“Thanks, Booster! You did it great too!” Marvel responded, smiling at the blond.

“I think we need to celebrate this successfully completed mission.” Said the blonde, putting his arm on Marvel's shoulder.

“I agree!” Said Marvel. “We can get some ice cream and Capri-Sun!”

“I was thinking of something more…Hot, Captain.” Said, moving his arm to the Captain's weist.

“A hot chocolate?” He asked, in a mix between confusion and nervousness.

“Come on, Captain, I know you kn-”

“You better be three meters away in two seconds or I’ll break every single one of your bones.” Adam growled.

“What?”

“Two.”

Billy was not fast enough to stop Teth.

The civilians didn’t see Booster Gold in two months, because he was out of duty while recovering the broken bonds.

Billy did know what Booster was saying, he’s 16, but acted like if no because he knew what the Super Seven and Arthur would do to the man if he let them see his state.

He already saw what they are capable of.

Third part of my Billy Omega AU

#dc comics #shazam #billy batson #captain marvel #dc universe #justice league #dc captain marvel #adopted billy batson #shazamily #black adam #teth adam #billy batson is an omega #omegaverse au #omegaverse #my hcs #hc #booster gold #soft #drabble

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bewitched-hours · 2 days ago

Note

I'M BACK WOTH ANOTHER ELLIOT REQUEST!! I literally cannot get enough of your writing, it's so inspiring and captivating I can't help but kick my feet and giggle. Anyways, how about some Elliot x GN!Reader where Elliot comes home from a stressful day of work and to help him feel better, Reader cuddles him and gives him kisses? (I'm a sucker for physical affection). Please take your time and don'tfeel pressured to write it! (Also a good song recommendation that makes me think of Elliot is Boyfriend by Hot Freaks so give it a listen if you can hehe) - Lume

Lume you are a goddamn genius, I'm in love with this band now- And I'm a sucker for physical affection too(touch starved mf right here) so you best believe I'll be putting my heart into this one!

As requested, reader's pronouns are they/them!

You and Elliot had been living together for almost 4 months now.

You'd met way back when you worked together because you were just trying to get out of your parents' place.

Not that you had a bad relationship with your family but you felt guilty about living with them without at least a job.

It took 5 months for you two to fall in love. But you made sure to wait for the 'honeymoon phase' to be over before you suggested moving in together.

And it was the best choice Elliot could've made.

You brought peace to his chaos, even when you changed jobs to something that spoke more to your hobbies but paid almost triple with only night shifts. He didn't fault you for jumping at the opportunity.

And now? You were happily playing the 'house spouse' and have a routine of getting home, waking up Elliot for his work and having breakfast with him before he disappears for the day and you get to sleep.

Usually, you had made it a habit to wake up at least an hour before he was set to come home and getting things ready for him to get comfortable after the stress of working at a pizza place.

It was bliss. It was a life you two built together and enjoyed more than anything.

Even your families loved each other and family gatherings would always include both families betting on how long it'd take for either of you to propose. You'd always play into it while Elliot tried to shut you up with a cute and flustered look on him.

And tonight was another night evening.

Elliot came home early for once, almost immediately ranting about 007n7 and c00lkidd while you quickly finished up dinner and quietly rushed to hug him.

That was usually already enough to help him feel better.

You were his peace. His lover. His bliss.

Sometimes he wondered how he got so lucky with you. Little did he know you were dead set on making that last forever.

As you both hugged and kissed each other both gently and passionately, you subtly led him to the kitchen and perhaps you were acting a little too cheery~

"You have a surprise for me, don't you?" He giggled, seeing your cute but shocked face as you knew you were busted.

You hesitated and just told him to eat as you sat down. "It's in the bedroom but I wanted to save it for later because I got a couple days off..." You sheepishly admitted, soon realizing the adoring gaze Elliot gave you. God, it still gave you butterflies to see him look at you so lovingly...

When you were both done, he offered to do the dishes and you took the time to set up the bedroom with a romantic display.

When he walked in, his face was flushed immediately upon seeing you lying in bed and giving him your most un-serious flirtatious look. He almost couldn't stop laughing and it only made you laugh along.

You knew this was a horrible setup usually but for Elliot and you it was perfect.

As dramatically as you could, you rushed to his side and began asking him what was wrong in an over-the-top tone. But soon he began to notice you were calling him your 'husband' and the surprise made it easier to calm down.

That's when you shocked him with a small box and a ring inside.

"Elliot... I know this might be a little soon but I really do mean it when I say I can't see a future without you..." You'd tell him with the softest of voices. "I don't want anything expensive or elaborate. I just want to be able to call you my husband and it being the truth... Will you marry me?"

He was stunned into silence, only to start chuckling which got you confused.

Until... He pulled a ring box of his own out of his pocket.

"I guess we had the same idea... I even took off the next couple of days for this." He'd return your softness and you both quickly slipped the rings on each other's fingers before falling into each other's arms and kissing passionately like there was no tomorrow.

Tonight... You two were more than each other's bliss and peace...

You were each other's everything...

Kicking my feet over my own writing all casually over here-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

#forsaken roblox #forsaken #roblox forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken x y/n #elliot forsaken #elliot x reader #fluff #comfort #domestic fluff

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sugardollcurse · 2 days ago

Note

Could you do a john x reader where the readers the bands assistant and at first he cant stand the reader but slowly falls for them?<3

𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 | john lennon x reader

𐙚 summary ; john thinks you’re uptight, nosy, and irritatingly good at your job. you think he’s an arrogant, lazy sod with a nicotine addiction. somehow, falling in love happens anyway.

𐙚 note ; i love this dynamic. john being emotionally incompetent!!?? yeah i’m gonna eat it up xoxo

“Tell ‘em to piss off, would you?”

You weren’t even fully in the doorway before John had flung that at you, voice echoing over the piano keys like he was hoping it’d bruise on impact. You blinked, unfazed, balancing the clipboard against your chest like a shield.

“They’re your interviewers, not mine.”

He slumped deeper on the bench. “Don’t care. They’re wankers.”

Paul looked up from the mixing console, brows lifted, waiting. You didn’t flinch. The stack of studio notes in your arms didn’t either. George was half-asleep on the floor, eyes shut and legs crossed, clearly trying to pretend none of this was happening. Ringo was eating crisps behind a partition. John hadn’t even acknowledged you yesterday. Today, he was yelling before you opened your mouth.

“Lovely seeing you too, Lennon,” you said flatly, brushing past him to drop the notes on the table. “I’ve got the revised track timings, the itinerary for tomorrow, and a list of people you’re allegedly supposed to be nice to this week.”

“You’re one of them?”

“Not a chance.”

Ringo snorted. Paul grinned.

John looked up slowly. He had the cigarette still dangling from his mouth, barely lit, and his eyes were bloodshot behind those stupid yellow glasses he wore indoors. You didn’t know if he was drunk or just pretending to be, but either way, his glare slid down you like he was trying to x-ray you for weaknesses.

“You’re that new one,” he said, like it was an accusation. “The one with the attitude.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who called me a parasite on day one.”

“I said the lot of you were parasites. Don’t get big-headed.”

“Thanks for the clarification.”

He sneered. You smiled. There was no real heat behind it, just the static of two sharp things scraping too close together. You turned on your heel and walked out before he could say something clever.

The door clicked shut behind you. He exhaled smoke through his nose and muttered, “Who hired that one?”

“You did,” Paul said, laughing. “Well. You insisted you wanted someone who wasn’t a ‘yes man.’”

“Well, fuck me, I got one.”

You started seeing more of John after that, unfortunately.

He was always the last one out of the studio and the first one to pick a fight. When things went wrong, he found you. When things went right, he found someone else. But you started noticing patterns in his tantrums. He only really snapped when he hadn’t written anything good in a while. When he walked in silent and stiff-shouldered, he’d pick a fight within the hour. When he was buzzing, humming with ideas, he barely noticed you were there.

Sometimes he’d mutter lyrics to himself. You started jotting them down without being asked.

“You writin’ down my thoughts now?” he barked one afternoon, catching you scribbling something about “a fish and a god and a yellow sky.”

“No,” you said, “just your ramblings. Figured I could blackmail you someday.”

He stared at you, lips parted around his smoke. Then, to your surprise, he grinned.

“…you’re mental.”

You shrugged. “So are you.”

That grin stuck with you longer than it should’ve.

You caught him watching you a few days later. Middle of the afternoon, everybody out for lunch except the two of you. You were going over press releases on the floor, cross-legged, red pen tucked behind your ear. You felt his gaze before you saw it.

“You gonna keep staring or help me highlight?”

He didn’t blink. Just sat there with a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray, arms crossed, and said, “You talk to me different than the others.”

You looked up. “Yeah?”

“You don’t give a toss.”

“About what?”

“Me.”

You stared at him for a beat. Then went back to your notes.

“I give enough of a toss to keep your schedule from collapsing. Anything beyond that’s a risk to my mental health.”

He laughed, soft and throaty. “See, that’s what I mean.”

“You want me to care?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Just...” He squinted at you. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

“I’m scared of things, sure,” you muttered, underlining a sentence. “Just not irritable Liverpudlians.”

“You should be! I bite.”

“You sulk.”

His mouth twitched. You didn’t look at him again, but you felt the tension shift. He didn’t leave the room. Didn’t snap. Just sat there, quiet. Thinking.

He started asking where you were.

He never did it directly, John Lennon wasn’t sentimental, obviously! But when you were late to the studio one morning, he cornered Ringo.

“That assistant of ours, yours, where’d they go?”

“Dentist,” Ringo said through a mouthful of toast. “Why?”

“Just noticed it was quieter.”

“You miss ‘em?”

“Miss the arguments,” John muttered. “S’good for the blood.”

When you came back, he didn’t say anything, but the whole day passed without a single insult.

You almost missed them.

It was late when it really shifted.

A Friday. Rain slicked the windows, and the others had left hours ago. You were still fiddling with the week’s expenses when you noticed him, curled on the couch with his guitar across his lap, staring at the ceiling.

“You’re not playing anything,” you said, not looking up.

He didn’t answer right away, just kept flicking the strings with a pick he wasn’t really using. Lazy. Aimless. His foot tapped, heel against the couch cushion, and you were about to repeat yourself when he muttered, “Yeah, well, maybe I’m just sittin’ with it.”

“With what?”

He glanced over, hair falling in his eyes. “The fact that we’ve written the same fuckin’ song four times this week.”

You laughed under your breath. “You’ve said that every week.”

“Yeah, and it’s true every time.”

You stood, stretching your arms over your head. “Want a drink?”

“No.” He shifted, leaned back against the couch, fingers now just resting on the strings. “Don’t want much of anything, really. Not when I’ve got three producers tellin’ me which note’s best and a tape operator breathin’ down my neck.”

“Sounds like hell.”

“It is hell,” he muttered. “But it’s also... I dunno. Not like I’d be anywhere else.”

You crossed the room and sat near the end of the couch, not quite close enough to touch. “You like pretending you hate it.”

“I do hate it.”

“You love it.”

He narrowed his eyes, flicked his gaze at you. “You don’t know shit.”

“Mmhm.”

He sighed, dramatically. “Can’t even sulk in peace around you, can I?”

“Nope.”

“Fucking menace.”

You smiled at the floor. Then, quieter, “You want to talk about it?”

He arched a brow. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever’s chewing on you.”

He sniffed, scratched his temple. “It’s called a band.”

“You’re the one who insisted on staying this late.”

“And you’re the one still here, clipboard-for-brains.”

You flicked a crumpled receipt at his knee. He swatted it away.

“Listen,” he said after a moment, voice slower, less sharp, “not every night has to end in an epiphany, y’know. Sometimes a bloke just wants to sit and be miserable in peace.”

“You’re doing a fantastic job at that.”

He glanced at you sidelong, and for a flicker, just a second, you thought you saw something like relief pass over his face. Like your refusal to pry too deep was the nicest thing anyone had done all day.

He shifted again, looser now, guitar across his lap like a blanket instead of a shield.

“You’re not bad, y’know,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

You sat back, eyes squinting like you were analyzing a riddle. “You mean that as a person or as an assistant?”

John lit another cigarette. “Either.”

“Wow,” you said, mock-dramatic. “Praise from Caesar.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

━━

You started noticing when he didn’t fight. That was the real tell. The days when John just sat at the piano and let his fingers drift across the keys, absentminded and raw, were worse than when he exploded. The quiet was heavier. Less self-important.

One evening, you came in early. Thought you’d beat the morning circus. Instead, somehow, you found 'Mr. Lazy Always Getting Everybody Late TO EVERYTHING' already there, coat still on, hunched over a notepad like it had done something to offend him. He didn’t hear you at first.

“I thought geniuses slept in,” you said, setting your bag down.

He looked up, startled. “Thought assistants knocked.”

“I did.”

“Not loud enough.”

You shrugged, crossed the room to refill the empty kettle. “You ever try just writing something bad to clear the pipes?”

“I don’t do bad.”

“You do nothing, though.”

He glared. “Helpful.”

“You’re welcome.”

A pause. Then: “You always this bloody cheeky, or just when I’m creatively constipated?”

“Must be something in the air.”

He huffed, but didn’t argue. When you handed him a cup of tea, he took it without comment, and for a few breaths, you both stared at the same spot on the carpet, neither talking.

It started happening more often, these accidental mornings, these in-between moments. You’d linger after hours finishing paperwork, and he’d drift to the couch and play the same three chords over and over, cigarette burning down in the ashtray. Sometimes you’d catch him tapping lyrics into the notepad with the end of a pen like he was interrogating the paper itself.

Once, he asked you, “What rhymes with ‘anhedonia’?”

You blinked. “Is that even a word?”

“Apparently.” He groaned and dropped the pen. “I’m a fraud.”

“You’re a rich fraud.”

“That doesn’t help.”

You chuckled. “Try ‘California.’”

He snorted. “Too obvious.”

“You asked.”

Later, you caught him using it. Not the rhyme, but the word. In a line buried two stanzas deep in a demo you weren’t supposed to hear. He hadn’t told anyone he was recording again.

“Thought you were dried up,” you said when you passed the booth the next day.

“Must’ve found a better muse,” he replied, eyes fixed on the console.

You froze for half a second. He didn’t look at you.

After that, the air changed.

You never talked about it. But something unspooled between you, less tension, more elasticity. He got less cruel when he was angry. You got less guarded when you were tired. You shared biscuits, half-hearted complaints, knowing glances when the press came sniffing around. Once, he asked you to help him smuggle a reel of rejected mixes out of the building because he didn’t want “the bloody suits” to have final say.

“Is this legal?” you asked, holding the bag like it might explode.

“No, but it’s funny.”

“You’re going to get us fired.”

“You’d land on your feet.”

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Some nights, you stayed too long and forgot why. He never told you to leave. Once, you fell asleep on the studio couch with a file folder on your stomach. You woke up to find a blanket over your legs and a fresh cup of tea on the floor beside you, still warm.

Another time, you had a headache and couldn’t shake it, couldn’t focus, couldn’t listen to one more half-formed chorus. John took one look at you, cursed under his breath, and tossed you a packet of paracetamol from his bag like it wasn’t weird he’d thought to keep some.

“You’re just trying to keep me working,” you muttered.

He leaned on the wall beside you, arms crossed. “Can’t keep up without your clipboard, can I?”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll think you miss me when I’m gone.”

He didn’t respond.

━━

The next day, you were balancing a stack of mail and two chipped mugs of tea, trying not to trip over a stray cable someone had left running across the hallway, when the door creaked open behind you.

John slipped in like he'd forgotten how to use hinges, quiet but not subtle, wearing the same rumpled button-down from yesterday, collar askew, one sleeve halfway rolled, as if he'd started getting dressed this morning and lost the thread halfway through.

You didn’t even turn.

“You’re late, again” you said through clenched teeth, edging toward the table where you could offload your cargo. “I was five seconds from drinking your tea out of spite.”

“Oi,” he said. That voice of his, thick from sleep or smoke or both, caught the back of your neck like a hook. “You got a minute?”

You raised an eyebrow as you finally set everything down, the mugs clinking onto the desk, the mail sliding half-off the edge. “What, did I schedule you too tightly again? Paul complained about-”

“Come with me to dinner.”

You froze halfway through straightening the mail. Looked up. “What?”

“Dinner,” he repeated, scratching the back of his neck like he wanted to claw something out from under his skin. “Out. With me. Food.”

Your head tilted. Your lips didn’t move yet. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You stared, one hand still on the tea, the other on a stray letter addressed in unreadable handwriting. “You're asking me out?”

He looked like he wanted to choke on his own tongue. “M’not askin’ for your fuckin’ hand in marriage, am I? Just-Christ, yes, alright. Asking.”

He said it like it physically hurt. Like the sentence was too intimate to wear in daylight.

You swallowed a laugh that was mostly disbelief. “I thought you hated eating in public.”

“I do,” he said. “Figured we could both suffer.”

For a second, you just stared.

There was something wrong about how still he was. No quips. No fake bravado. Just the jaw tight, his fingers twitching like they hadn’t decided yet whether to brace for mockery or a punch. He wasn’t doing the Lennon thing, wasn’t posing, or smirking, or sneering. He was just...waiting.

And it hit you then, how rare that was.

You glanced down at your clipboard, just for the sake of something to look at that wasn’t him. Then you plucked the pen from behind your ear, flicked it open, and started scribbling.

He blinked. “What’re you-”

“Adding it to the schedule.”

His mouth twitched, curved, slow and crooked like it couldn’t help itself, even if the rest of him was still holding its breath. “Suppose that means yes.”

“Don’t be late.”

He turned to leave, half a smile still on his face.

And just before the door swung shut, you called after him, “Wear a clean shirt this time, yeah?”

He shrugged you off without looking back.

You grinned to yourself and sipped your tea.

God help you.

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