#but that means flooding. so like. hope they make it okay.

[readingloveswounds]

i have family moving to florida this week, like closing on a house type of deal. they'll be on the atlantic side but will still be directly in the path of the thing. if they were from a place that gets hurricanes, i'd say yeah this is bad luck, but as long as they get their supplies and batten down the hatches they'll get through it, but they're from literal oregon. they're not ready for even normal heavy rain in the south and they're not going to be ready for a fucking hurricane. Pair this with the fact that my mom and her brother don't really talk directly, I think it's going to be a fucking disaster. I hope they have good neighbors.

[littlelamy]

a/n: the beginning is loosely based of S4 with rafe and sofia! I’m kinda obsessed with rafe being needy behind close doors 🥵I hope you guys enjoy!

you couldn’t stop replaying his words over and over again in your head. each syllable hit harder, cutting deeper than the last. always running her mouth? what. just a hookup, id never date a pogue.

you stood there, behind the slightly ajar door, heart pounding so loudly you were sure it could be heard. but rafe didn’t notice—he was too busy tearing you down with topper, speaking like you were nothing more than a nuisance in his life. he’d never know how those words would haunt you, how the trust you had in him shattered like glass.

your eyes burned with unshed tears, the sharp sting of betrayal settling into the pit of your stomach. but there was something else bubbling just beneath the surface—rage. not the hot, fiery kind that comes and goes. no, this was colder, more calculated. the type that stews, planning its revenge.

your fingers itched to grab your things and leave, but not without making sure he understood who held the power in this relationship. you weren’t going to walk away defeated, not when you could leave him begging for mercy.

so, instead of running, you turned, heart hardening with each step as you walked back into the room, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled out a suitcase from under the bed.

if he thought he could treat you like this, he was about to learn how wrong he was. you weren’t some weak girl who would let this slide. no, rafe was about to see a side of you he never had before.

the door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, you could hear his confused muttering. "yo, topper, i’ll catch you later."

rafe’s voice rang through the hallway, much closer now, but still carrying the same arrogant tone. you ignored him, hands moving swiftly as you tossed your clothes into the bag, each item thrown more aggressively than the last.

when rafe finally stepped into the room, his eyes immediately fell on you, and panic flickered in his expression. "what the hell are you doing?"

his voice wavered as he took in the scene—your half-packed bag, the angry flush on your cheeks, the tight set of your jaw.

"what does it look like?" you shot back, barely sparing him a glance as you continued packing.

he hesitated, taking a step closer to you, but the sight of your seething rage stopped him in his tracks. "hey, let’s just—let’s talk about this, okay?"

you laughed bitterly, slamming the suitcase shut before finally turning to face him. "oh, now you want to talk?" you snapped, the sharp edge in your voice slicing through the air between you. "funny, because earlier, it seemed like you had plenty to say."

his face paled as realization dawned on him. you watched as his lips parted, searching for words but finding none. for the first time in a long time, rafe cameron was speechless, guilt flooding his features.

"i didn’t—" he started, but you cut him off.

"save it," you hissed, stepping closer to him now, your eyes blazing. "i heard everything, rafe. every. single. word."

rafe’s breath hitched as the full weight of your words crashed down on him. his eyes widened in panic, and he took another shaky step toward you, reaching out as if to touch you, to ground himself in this spiraling nightmare. "i didn’t mean it, baby. i swear, i wasn’t thinking—i was just venting—"

"venting?" you scoffed, stepping back from his touch. "do i look like someone you just 'vent' about, rafe? am i just some girl you get to shit on when i’m not around?" your voice cracked slightly, the hurt bubbling beneath your fury slipping through the cracks.

rafe’s hands trembled as he dropped them to his sides, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he shook his head. "no, no—please, you know i didn’t mean any of that. i was just—" his voice broke, and you watched as his composure started to crumble, tears pooling in his eyes. "i was just talking, okay? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it. you have to believe me."

but you weren’t about to let him off the hook that easily. your eyes darkened as you stepped even closer to him, your voice dropping to a dangerously low whisper. "if you’re really sorry, rafe, you’re going to have to prove it."

a flicker of hope sparked in his eyes, and he nodded eagerly, desperate to fix what he’d broken. "anything," he breathed, his voice shaky. "i’ll do anything."

you stared him down, watching as he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with nervous anticipation. there was no trace of the cocky, confident rafe now. instead, he was a trembling mess, willing to do whatever it took to keep you from walking out that door.

you grabbed your phone from the dresser, starting the recording and letting the soft beep fill the silence. rafe’s eyes widened as he watched you, confusion and curiosity mixing with the fear in his gaze.

"get on your knees," you ordered, your voice firm, leaving no room for hesitation.

rafe blinked, momentarily stunned by the command, but the second your eyes met his, cold and unwavering, he obeyed. he dropped to his knees before you, looking up with wide, tear-filled eyes. the vulnerability radiating off him was palpable, his breath shaky as he knelt before you, completely at your mercy.

"you don’t get to speak," you warned, holding the phone steady as you circled him slowly, capturing his wide eyes, his trembling hands. "you only get to listen and do what i say."

he nodded quickly, his throat tight with emotion as he blinked away the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

you positioned yourself on the bed, spreading your legs slightly, and gestured for him to come closer. "you know what to do," you said, your tone soft but commanding.

without a moment’s hesitation, rafe shuffled forward on his knees, his eyes glued to your thighs as he leaned in, his lips pressing soft, tentative kisses along your skin. his breath was hot and shaky, the desperation in every touch making your pulse quicken.

"good boy," you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, guiding his mouth exactly where you wanted it. "now, show me how sorry you are."

rafe wasted no time, his tongue flicking against you with a desperation that sent shivers down your spine. his hands gripped your thighs, holding on for dear life as he worked to prove himself, his movements frantic, eager to please.

your head tipped back slightly as a soft sigh escaped your lips, but you quickly regained control, focusing on the phone’s camera in your hand. you adjusted the angle, making sure you captured every second of rafe’s unraveling—his lips swollen and red from the effort, his face flushed, sweat beading on his forehead.

"look at you," you cooed softly, your free hand caressing his cheek. "you’re such a mess for me, aren’t you?"

rafe whimpered in response, the vibrations from his soft sobs sending waves of pleasure through you. his eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his face harder against you, the tears finally spilling over and streaming down his cheeks.

you could feel the shift in him—the way his body trembled beneath your touch, the way his breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps. he was breaking, right in front of you, and the sight sent a surge of power through your veins.

"don’t stop," you whispered, your fingers tugging on his hair as his pace quickened, his tongue working furiously. "not until i say so."

rafe let out a choked sob, his tears soaking into your skin as he continued, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate. you glanced down at him, the sight of his tear-streaked face and swollen lips sending a rush of heat through you.

"you’re mine," you whispered, your voice dripping with possession as you tilted his face up slightly, capturing the tear that rolled down his cheek with your thumb. "and you’ll never forget it."

rafe’s body shuddered at your words, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he clung to you, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. another tear slipped down his face, and you leaned down, your lips brushing against his cheek, kissing the tear away.

you recorded it all, making sure you caught the exact moment rafe broke for you, his body trembling beneath your touch as he whimpered your name.

"please," he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "i’m yours. i’ll never leave you. i love you. please…don’t leave me."

his words were slurred, thick with emotion, and you smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair in a soothing motion.

"good boy," you whispered, pressing one last kiss to his temple as his body finally collapsed against you, completely spent and vulnerable.

slowly, you stopped recording. rafe barely noticed, his head resting against your thigh, still trying to steady his breathing. his tear-streaked face was a picture of surrender.

you stood up, gently pushing him off you, and his body slumped against the mattress, too weak to even protest. you didn’t say a word as you picked up your phone, your fingers tapping with practiced precision.

rafe watched through bleary eyes, his chest still rising and falling with uneven breaths, the reality of the situation not quite sinking in yet.

the video—the raw, intimate recording of rafe at his most vulnerable—was right there, in your hand. the smirk playing at your lips deepened as you attached it to a group chat, the names of topper, kelce, and several other friends flashing across the screen. rafe’s inner circle, the same ones he was so eager to talk big around. they’d all see this.

and then, for the final touch. your fingers hovered over the keyboard for just a moment before typing: looks like the pogue got your boy.

the message was delivered, the little ‘sent’ confirmation making your heart race with satisfaction. the power was now entirely in your hands, and you relished the silence that followed, the calm before the inevitable storm.

rafe blinked, finally realizing what had happened as he noticed the shift in your demeanor. “w-what did you do?” his voice was small, trembling with fear as his eyes darted from your phone to your face, dread sinking in fast.

you leaned down, brushing a lock of hair out of his face with surprising gentleness, and a sweet peck on his lips. “just reminding you who really holds the power here, rafe,” you whispered softly, your voice laced with a wicked edge. “you thought you could talk shit about me behind my back? guess again.”

rafe’s eyes widened as he tried to sit up, his body weak and uncoordinated. “no, no, no—what did you send? please, baby, please!” he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation.

you straightened up, staring down at him, your smile never faltering. “i sent a little reminder to all your friends. they’ll see it soon enough.”

he scrambled to reach for his phone, but it was too late. his friends were already watching the video, seeing him like they’d never seen him before—broken, crying, at your feet, worshiping you. and with that message—looks like the pogue got your boy—they’d know he wasn’t the powerful rafe cameron anymore. not with you around.

rafe’s breath hitched, panic surging through his veins as his phone buzzed incessantly on the bedside table. “no,” he whimpered, tears spilling over again, pure terror flashing in his eyes as he looked up at you, utterly helpless, still with a needy gaze.

you bent down one last time, tilting his chin up so he could meet your gaze, your thumb gently brushing against his swollen lips. “next time you even think about talking behind my back,” you whispered, “remember this moment. because there’s more where that came from.”

with that, you walked away, leaving rafe alone in the room, his phone lighting up with messages from his friends, the weight of his humiliation crushing him.

you didn’t even glance back as the door clicked shut behind you, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

you owned him now. completely.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[uzurakis]

megumi and yuuji falling asleep on the reader (pre dating era or established relationship) and the others teasing the reader abt it bc everyone knows they're in love <333 have an amazing day ahead bb 🫶🏼

DOZING OFF ON YOUR SHOULDER . .

featuring: fushiguro megumi. itadori yuuji. gojo satoru. yuuta okkotsu.

n. thanku for your req nonnie ^v^ i added other characters cs i dont wanna waste ur idea, most of these are pre-dating and gojo’s part took place when he was still in hs with the rest. hope ya like it !

ITADORI YUUJI

the soft glow of the tv illuminated the room as the four of you huddled together on the bed, engrossed in the movie playing before you. yuuji sat beside you, his eyes glued to the screen as the plot thickened. you couldn't help but steal glances at him, his features softened by the flickering light.

as the movie reached its climax, you felt a weight lean against your shoulder. you turned to see yuuji, his eyes closed in peaceful slumber, his head now resting comfortably on your shoulder. nobara noticed and couldn't resist a playful grin. "well, well, looks like someone's found a comfy pillow," she teased, nudging megumi with her elbow. megumi chuckled calmly, his gaze switching between you and the screen. "seems like itadori’s enjoying the movie a little too much."

you felt your cheeks flush at their teasing, unsure of how to react. "he must have been really tired," mumbling, trying to hide your embarrassment.

nobara only gave you a wink, "or maybe he just wanted an excuse to get closer to you." subsequently, you gave her a playful stare, hoping to deflect the attention away from you. "you're reading too much into it, kugisaki."

despite your attempts to downplay the situation, the thought of yuuji sleeping near you made you feel warm. as the movie went on, you found yourself stealing looks at him, unable to shake the fluttering feeling in your chest.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

the four of you were alone with just the gentle hum of the engine as the car moved through the peaceful streets. megumi sat beside you in the backseat, his eyes heavy with sleep after a long day of exorcising curses. whereas infront of you, yuuji and nobara chattered away, their voices blending into the night air.

the man leaned against you, his head drooping lower and lower until it finally came to rest on your shoulder. you couldn't help but smile, feeling the warmth of his breath against your neck. "looks like someone's had a long day, hm?” you whispered, gently shifting to make him more comfortable.

yuuji turned to look back, a sly smile growing on his face. "aww, how adorable both of you!"

nobara then laughed, delight glinting in her voice. "looks like he finally warmed up for you."

"shh, you'll wake him up!" you said to shut them up.

but it was too late. the sudden burst of light from nobara's phone camera flash flooded the car, causing megumi to jolt awake with a start. he blinked owlishly, confusion written all over his face as he realized where he was.

"sorry guys," nobara said, trying to contain her laughter. "but i gotta send this to gojo-sensei.” yuuji immediately chimed in, continuing nobara’s teasing. "they’re so over once he sees this photo."

megumi's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he straightened up, rubbing his eyes sheepishly. "i-i didn't mean to fall asleep," the words jumbled from his mouth. you reached out to gently squeeze his hand, giving him an understanding smile. "it's okay, megumi. you needed the rest."

he glanced up at you, his eyes softening with gratitude. "thank you.”

with a contented sigh, megumi settled back against you, his head once again finding its place on your peaceful shoulder.

GOJO SATORU

gojo sat next to you on the train going home whilst geto and shoko stood across. the man beside you leaned back against the seat as the train lurched into action, his eyelids getting heavier by the second. before long, his head tipped just enough to rest against your shoulder as he fell into a quiet sleep.

geto raised an eyebrow at the sight of you both, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "if i were you, i’d shrug him off. right, shoko?”

“that’s mean, suguru,” shoko chuckled softly, rolling her eyes. "it's like they planned it all along."

"it's just a coincidence, guys," you stammered, embarrassed by their words.

geto chortled, shaking his head in amusement. "sure, sure. we believe you." then shoko slowly leaned closer, whispered a penny of thought.

"although, i have to admit, you two do look pretty cute together."

you shot her a glare, trying to ignore the redness spreading through you at the thought of gojo sleeping beside you. "damn, you guys really gotta stop with the teasing."

OKKOTSU YUUTA

the soft rustle of leaves filled the air as yuuta and you lounged beneath the shade of a grand oak tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. you felt yuuta's head slowly come to rest on your shoulder.

but you and yuuta’s moment of peace was soon interrupted by the approach of familiar voices. maki, inumaki, and panda emerged from the nearby path, their laughter echoing through the clearing as they spotted you both.

maki surveyed the sight in front of her, knowing what to tease already, prodding inumaki and panda with her elbow, "can you really be asleep that fast?" panda added his cheery voice and inumaki nodded in accord. "maybe he’s just pretending to—."

your eyes darting between them in an anxious manner. as you objected, trying not to look embarrassed, "hey, tone it down.”

but maki wasn't convinced. with her usual grin of mischief, she stepped forward and gently shook yuuta awake. "come on, sleepyhead. you can't just doze off on someone like that." yuuta blinked groggily, his eyes adjusting to the sudden light. the man glanced up at you, a smile spreading across his face as he realized his position. "sorry about that," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

you couldn't help but laugh along with them, the warmth of the friendship washing over you as wondered, did he really fall asleep that easily though?

@uzurakis — rqs are open <3

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter one

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a small town somewhere in beautiful greece, early morning coffee runs, and the cute boy that you keep running into. (4.8k)

warnings: sort of shy!reader, a bit of swearing, lando being both smooth and a little awkward

a/n: series masterlist coming soon :)

“That guy is totally checking you out.” 

You reluctantly drag your attention away from the truly addicting pasta you’d ordered to meet your friend’s gaze across the table, slightly suspicious, but also a little curious as to what she’s talking about.

Samira is grinning knowingly at you already, mischievously, like she’s got a tasty bit of information you don’t know about. Probably not tastier than the food in front of you, but your interest is piqued nonetheless. 

“What guy?” You sigh, giving into your curiosity quite easily. She arches a perfectly sculpted brow at you, then tilts her head to the side discreetly, and you follow her gaze towards—

Oh. That guy. 

You saw him on your way to your seat at first, a group of four guys sitting a few tables away in the same patio area of the restaurant, drawing your attention even before you’d sat down. Artfully messy brown curls swept up out of his face, thick dark brows framing bright eyes crinkled with laughter at something his friend had said, you’d felt yourself growing conscious of the man’s existence with just one glance. 

And then his gaze had flicked to your friends passing his table, but more importantly, your own gaze, and you’d nearly stumbled on your own feet.

Your cheeks had grown hot at the intensity of his stare following your path to your seat, not to mention the embarrassment that had flooded your veins at the thought of nearly eating shit in front of this very attractive stranger. 

Had you grown the nerve to look back at him at the time, you would’ve seen his lips quirk into a goofy grin, as well as all the shoving he’d gotten from his friends as they’d caught wind of his unabashed staring. 

Now you’re almost done with your meal, and you could swear you’ve felt him looking at you plenty more times. Not that it mattered at all, because your eyes have been firmly glued to your food and your friends only. 

Okay, so you might’ve hastened a few covert glances over in his direction too, but he’s been chatting away to his friends every time, so maybe you’re just making nothing into something. 

“Don’t even try to hide it, you’ve been making eyes at him too, girl,” Your other friend, Maren, pipes up, elbowing you in the arm playfully. The last of your girls, Camille, nods her agreement, smiling gleefully. “He’s hot.”  

Right, so perhaps not as covert as you’d thought. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” You reply, spearing another piece of pasta through your fork. You’re kicked under the table at that moment, hard enough to warrant the whine that escapes your mouth. “What?” Now you're met with three pointed glares your way. “Okay, fine. Yeah, he’s cute.” 

“Go talk to him!” 

“Go flirt with him!” 

“Absolutely not!” You exclaim. Your voice comes out louder than you intend and you duck your head quickly, worried you’d disturbed the peace of the quiet area. “He’s probably got a girlfriend already or something.” 

“If he does, she better dump his ass because he's been giving you fuck me eyes all damn night.” 

“No, he has not,” You hiss, which only gets you yet another look from them. You’re starting to get tired of all these looks, actually. “Has he? I mean—are they? Fuck me eyes?” 

“Oh yeah, he—” 

Camille clears her throat, cutting Samira off. “No, they’re not,” She assures you, placing a hand over yours. “He’s been smiling every time he looks over.”

“Maybe he’s looking at one of you guys?” 

“He’s definitely been looking at you.” 

You bite your lip, nose scrunching skeptically. You haven’t really been the subject of any guy’s attention before, let alone one as handsome as this one. You’ve learned it’s better not to get your hopes up when it comes to certain situations. This seems like one of them. “Are you sure?” 

“If I’m wrong, I’ll give you back your share of the villa rental.” 

“Can I get that in writing, or…?” 

Before any of them can come up with a smart remark, a plate is placed into the center of the table, on which is a large square of baklava, light and flaky with that sweet, sugary filling spilling out the sides of the piece that almost makes your mouth water. You’d seen it in the dessert section of the menu earlier, but had decided against ordering it in favor of trying an appetizer instead. 

“Oh, excuse me? We didn’t order this,” Maren speaks up, looking up at the waiter. 

He does a half turn, sweeping an arm in a vague direction. “It is from the gentleman in the blue shirt.” 

You follow his gaze, and fuck, your heart skips a beat in your chest, because it’s him. It’s the same guy you’ve been drawn to all night, and he’s actually looking right back at you this time. His hand comes up in a wave, then back down to his side almost immediately, like he’s worried about it seeming too eager, before settling with a reserved nod. All the while, he’s still got that smile gracing his face that makes your stomach flip flop. 

“He sent over a dessert?!?! I am so keeping that money, girl,” Camille hums, picking up her fork to dig in while Samira and Maren voice their agreement. 

You, on the other hand, well…you’re not sure what to think. You appreciate the gesture, but you're also confused. Why did he send something over? What did he want? 

It doesn't occur to you that he’s truly taken an interest in you until you're huddled outside with your friends talking next steps of the night. Whether you want to keep exploring this new place, or call it a day and go home. You’re firmly on the latter’s side because you're tired. But you’ll go along with whatever is decided. 

The guy and his friends have coincidentally left the restaurant at the same time as you did, judging by the sudden commotion that erupts behind you. Like a moth drawn to a flame, your gaze lands on him yet again, only this time, you actually lock eyes with him. Something jolts through you, something electric up your spine like a tiny shock. Something you’ve never felt before. You shove the foreign feeling deep down, no matter how much you’d like to explore it. 

He looks away, teeth sunk into his bottom lip to quell the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and you avert your wandering eyes too, before anyone else notices. Evidently you’re a little too slow, because all three of your friends catch on instantly. 

“Go talk to him already.” Camille says matter-of-factly. 

“No, I—what do I even say?” 

“Maybe hello would be a good start?” 

You press your lips together, unimpressed, and you get a snicker in return, something about how you're not asking for his hand in marriage, you’re just trying to make conversation. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him, it’s that you’re not exactly sure how to approach it. You’ve already convinced yourself of the worst, but to possibly have it play out in real life is a tangible fear of yours, and always has been. 

One of your girls (you’re willing to bet more money it’s Maren) gives you a not so gentle shove towards him, as does one of his friends over in his group. Now you’ve got no choice. You meet each other in the middle, just looking at each other for a few moments. It’s awkward and you have half a mind to turn and go, but then he speaks. 

“Hey,” He says. 

“Hi,” You reply shyly, shifting on your feet nervously. He shoves both hands into his pockets. He looks a bit nervous too, which does a significant wonder to calm you. “Thank you for the baklava. It was delicious.” 

“Yeah, of course. Glad you guys liked it. Figured you can’t go wrong with a classic.” He bobs his head, shoulders creeping up towards his ears in a shrug before dropping back down. “I’m Lando, by the way.” 

Lando. It’s not a name you’re expecting, but it suits him well. 

He sticks his hand out almost instinctively, like he’s been conditioned to do so. Maybe he has, considering the aura of professionality it gives off when you do shake his hand. 

His palm is smooth and warm against yours, long fingers curling around your hand like the sincere smile that curls his lips as you tell him your name in return. Dimples bracket his mouth on both sides. 

The handshake almost lasts a little too long for two people who’ve just met literally a few moments ago, as does the way his eyes linger upon yours. 

Even in the dark of the night, illuminated only by the warm glow of the lamps above you, you can see him much better up close. His sunkissed skin does little to hide the flushed pink on his cheeks that travels down to his chest, disappearing under the generously unbuttoned blue linen. You feel exposed under his intense gaze, looking back at those mesmerizing eyes. Blue, green, gray—maybe a mix of all three, you’re not sure, but you can’t help but want to figure it out. 

Then you remember that you don’t know this guy at all, and it brings you back to reality. 

“Lando, like…the guy from Star Wars?” You ask. It breaks the invisible tether between the two of you and he smiles, laughs a little bit too. 

He shrugs casually. “Not according to my mum and dad, but I do get that a lot.” 

“You must get tired of hearing it from people then.”

His head tilts to one side, smile going endearingly lopsided. “Depends on the person. Like, I didn’t mind when you said it just now.” You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you just smile, and he takes your reaction in stride, moving on. “Are you guys from around here, or…” 

“No, actually, we’re—um, we’re just here on holiday.”

“Oh, same! Yeah, we’ve been here a few days now, it’s been great. Is this your first time in Greece?” He asks, smile turning warm. You nod. “Have you checked out the local market yet?”

“Can’t say we have yet, no. We just got in the day before last, so…still figuring out our footing first. But I’ll keep it in mind, thank you!” 

Lando inhales sharply, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Hey, y’know, if you want, maybe we could—” 

“Oi, Lando! Let’s go, mate!” 

He glances back over at his friends, one of whom is waving for him to return to his group rather wildly, before turning back to you. Whatever he was about to say is lost now, because he shrugs loosely. “Guess that’s my cue,” He sighs. Then his gaze softens, smile turning a little hopeful. “Will I see you around again? Small town and all.” 

“Uh…I dunno. Maybe, if it’s meant to be.” You have to try with all your might not to take the statement back, even though you really, really want to. 

If it’s meant to be—who the fuck says that? Like fate has anything to do with this miraculous interest Lando seems to have taken in you. If you were him, you’d find your words quite off putting. Instead, he smirks, crooked and cute. 

“Meant to be,” He repeats, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah alright, I’ll take my chances. Have a good night.” 

You bid him a soft goodnight, barely able to stifle the giggle that spills from your mouth when he nearly trips over the cobblestones on his way back to his friends. He’s awkward, you think, but still confident. It’s cute. 

Lando stays rooted in your mind the rest of the night, all the way up until you’re lying in bed, waiting for sleep to take hold of you. It’s weird to think this much about a guy you’ve just met, a guy who you’ve only had one conversation with and have left things up to chance in terms of seeing him again. 

-------

You’re the first one awake this morning, roused from your sleep by bright sunlight pouring through the window, even through the curtains. Contemplation of going back to sleep crosses your mind, but it’s no use. You’re up now, so you might as well make the most of your early morning. 

You love your friends dearly, but some alone time sounds like heaven right about now. There’s a coffee spot not far from where you’re staying that you remember seeing on your way in that seems like a perfect match to your solo walk, so you head there. You’ll be a nice friend and bring coffee home for when they eventually wake up too. 

After dropping them a text letting them know you’ve gone out, you set off. The walk back into town is short but serene, a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of your daily lives, and a reminder of why you’d all decided to vacation in this particular region of Greece in the first place. 

Someone calls out something that sounds like your name before you can step into the shop and you pause, casting a glance around to see if your ears might be playing tricks on you. You’ve only been here a few days, and the only other person who knows you other than your friends is…Lando. 

You squint a little harder to see through the glare of the sun, and lo and behold, there he is, hands linked behind his head. The grin that lifts your face is almost embarrassing, or would’ve been had Lando not been so eager upon seeing you wave at him. 

He’s clad in athletic shorts and a cutoff tee that shows off muscles you’re trying your very hardest not to stare at as he makes his way closer, curls tucked away in a baseball cap pulled low on his head. Headphones dangle from around his neck, and he’s panting, chest rising and falling heavily very clearly once he’s stopped in front of you. 

“Hey, good morning! I thought that was you,” He breathes, attempting to catch his breath. “Early riser too, I take it?” 

“Honestly, not usually! The sun decided I would be today, though, so…here I am.” 

“Here you are. Guess it was meant to be then, huh?” He chuckles, reaching up to flip his cap backwards. If you thought he was tan the night you met, he’s even tanner in the sun, bronze skin stretching over sinewy muscle that flexes as he sweeps a hand through his hair before tugging it back down in one smooth motion. “Doing a coffee run?” 

“Yeah, I’m the only one of us awake at this hour so I figured I’d bring them back a little something.” 

“You’re a saint. I’d let my mates suffer if it were me,” Lando snorts. 

You shrug. “Guess that’s the difference between the two of us.” 

“Yeah?” He hums, looking amused. “What else is different between you and me?” 

“Well, first of all, I would never be on a run at eight in the morning. Is someone punishing you, or is this a self-inflicted torture type thing?” 

That gets another laugh out of him, shoulders shaking with mirth. “Gotta keep in shape or my trainer might try to kill me with workouts instead.” 

“You’re an athlete?” You pry, intrigued. He looks the part, you think. Lean but not skinny, strong but not massively built. A runner, maybe? 

Lando freezes a split second, rocks from foot to foot, scratching at his nose. “Kind of, yeah.” 

“What’s your sport?” 

“Uh…golf. It’s more like a hobby than anything else.” 

“Golf,” You repeat, an amused smile poking at the edges of your mouth. “Can’t say I know a thing about it.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely something else, for sure. Super intense stuff, really grueling.” His words say one thing, but he’s grinning like he’s pulling your leg, lip pulled between his teeth in that same way as last night, nose scrunching adorably as he bobs his head quickly to further sell it. 

“Sure, if you say so. But d’you think your trainer would get mad if you cut your super intense training short to grab a cup of coffee with a friend?” 

You’re almost expecting him to say no, but Lando perks up instead, eyes crinkling happily at the corners. “Not at all. Shall we?” 

Over coffee, you find that Lando is an excellent conversationalist—funny and a good listener, an even better storyteller. He asks about you without seeming pushy or prying, and because of that you feel yourself relaxing a bit in his presence. Opening yourself up to the possibility of a good thing with him, no matter how short or fleeting it may be, whether it’s friendship or something more. 

A few weeks of summer in a place you've never been with a boy you don’t know is the time to be a little bolder. Chances are you’ll never see Lando again after this trip, so why not loosen up just a little bit? 

It’s only when more people start to trickle into the shop and you start to notice Lando’s eyes shifting over your shoulder more that you realize you’ve been here with him for a while now. And judging by the dozens of missed calls and texts from all three of your friends on your phone when you go to check it for the first time since you’d left, you’ve been gone a lot longer than you said you’d be. 

You know them well enough to know that they’re not above calling the local police to send out a search party for you if you don’t find your way back soon. 

“Friends wondering where you are?” 

You nod, sending a quick message that you are indeed alive and not kidnapped like they feared, before tucking your phone away again. “Guess I better get them their coffees for sure now, or else they might not let me back in the house.” 

“Lemme buy it for them,” He offers sincerely, offering you a lopsided grin. You shake your head rapidly at the suggestion, but he continues, “I’m the reason you’ve been gone so long, the least I can do is buy them drinks. Call it an apology for making them worry, yeah?” 

“You really don’t have to, Lando.” 

“I know. I want to,” He insists, looking truly genuine. First dessert last night, now coffee today. You have half a mind to push back a little more, but you get the feeling Lando is as persistent as he is handsome, so you taking a firm stance on something like this seems like a moot point. Giving in, you nod, and he mirrors it, looking proud. 

He lets you take the lead in reciting your friends’ orders once you’ve made your way back over to the front counter, stepping forward with a hand to the small of your back to pay for the drinks before you have any bright ideas to pull one over on him and pay for them yourself. 

The barista smiles politely, pen hovering above a cardboard cup. “And a name for that?” 

Lando casts a furtive glance around the area before leaning in and saying his name quietly, as if he’s worried he’ll run into someone who he doesn’t want to see. You notice, but don’t really pay it any mind. You understand far too well not wanting to talk to someone you're unprepared for. 

Soon enough Lando’s got the drinks in hand and you’re back outside, and he’s smiling again. You’ve noticed he does that a lot when he looks at you. You’re sure you’re the same way with him. 

“My mates and I, we’re planning on having a little barbeque at our villa tomorrow night. You should come,” Lando says encouragingly, tilting his head to the side. When your brows raise in surprise, he hastily adds, “And your friends too, obviously. We’d love the company.” 

“Ah! Um, I dunno. Wouldn’t wanna crash your thing.” 

“You wouldn't be. Seriously, come hang out. We’re fun, I promise!” 

“I just—I forget if we’ve got plans, that’s all.” You’re not lying when you say it, you truly forget if you’re free tomorrow night. Most of it stems from your awful memory, but a small part of it attributes to how your brain kind of stops working properly around Lando. 

“Right, well, you figure that out, and if you find you’ve got a free evening,” He balances the drinks deftly in one hand, the other fishing his phone out of his shorts pocket and swiping at the screen briefly before holding it out to you, “text me, let me know.” 

You’re not sure where you find the boldness to tap your phone number into his contacts, but you do it with confidence, saving it under your name and a smiley face. 

“Cute.” Lando smirks, chuckling as he sends a simple hi so you've got his number too. “Now, I believe these are yours, and…maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? If it’s meant to be.” 

You smile at the mirroring of last night’s words from him as you situate the cardboard tray in your own arms. “Maybe.” 

The smile hasn’t left your face even by the time you arrive back home, because you’ve been thinking about Lando the whole way. For a stranger you’ve met only yesterday, he’s sure been occupying a lot of space in your mind. You aren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. 

You’re already prepared for the berating you’re about to get as you close the front door behind you carefully, making your way to the kitchen.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

You look up to see all three of your friends sitting around the kitchen table, and none of them look particularly happy. You smile innocently, holding up the cardboard tray of drinks up as a peace offering. “Coffee?” 

“It better come with an explanation.” 

Nodding vigorously, you dole out each drink to your friends. “It does, I swear. I didn’t just disappear, I ran into—” 

“Hold the fuck on. Why does this say Lando? Why is that man’s name on my cup—” 

“Oh my god, you did not get coffee with him without telling us!” 

“You bitch!” 

That’s how you end up telling them the whole story—running into him in town, talking for ages, and that brings you to your next point. 

“We don’t have any plans for tomorrow night, do we?” 

“There’s the vineyard tour in the afternoon, but that should end around five. Why?” 

“Lando invited us to a barbecue at his villa,” You say quickly. That gets their attention immediately, all of their eyes widening in the same shocked looks. None of them answer your question though. “Is that…something we’d be interested in?” 

Samira is the first to snap out of it, mouth curving into a playful smirk. “Invited us, or invited you?” 

“Definitely just her.” 

“Whatever! Do we wanna go or not?” You grumble, doing your best to fight the grin threatening to overtake your face. The thought of him wanting to spend time with you brings you a teensy bit of satisfaction. 

“Of course we’re going!” 

After they’re done poking fun at you, you’re able to take a moment to top out a quick message to Lando. That barbecue invite still up for grabs? 

You're not expecting an immediate answer, but your phone dings with a text back before you even set it down. 

Lando: Of course. Plans fell through? 

You: seems like you’ve really made an impression on my friends 

Lando: Not sure whether to be scared or flattered…

You: your guess is as good as mine! we’ll find out tomorrow :)

Lando: Brb gotta go call my lawyer and update my will 

“You’re texting him right now, aren’t you?” 

You look up from your phone to see Camille leaning in the doorway to your room, a soft, knowing smile on her face. “Yeah, he—uh, he says he’s looking forward to meeting you guys again.” She comes to sit beside you, looking like she wants to talk about something. You set it aside, head tilting in a silent question. 

“Do you think you’ll stay in contact with Lando after we leave?” 

“I’m not sure. Haven’t really thought about it all that much, to be honest.”

If you do think about it, you haven’t even known Lando for more than a day. You’ve only just met him yesterday, seen him twice, one of which was completely spur of the moment. So what if that spur of the moment encounter was the most connected you’ve felt to someone in a long time? 

You don’t know him, and chances are, he’s not looking for anything serious. You don’t even know if you’re looking for anything serious. 

“It’s okay if you want to.” 

“I shouldn’t want to,” You say. It feels like you’re trying to convince yourself more than anything. You look to Camille for an answer, but she just pats your hand. “Right? I’m never gonna see him again, so I shouldn’t get attached.” 

“You don’t know that for sure, do you?” 

“I guess not. It feels scary, though. Opening yourself up to something when you don't know what’ll happen.” 

Camille hums, a placating, even comforting sound to soothe your worries. She’s always been pretty good at getting you to see the brighter side in things. “There’s fun in that too. Being spontaneous, surprising yourself. You never know, Lando could be just the thing you need, the one you didn’t know you were looking for. And if not, you don’t have to see him again. A win-win, I’d say.” 

She leaves you alone to your thoughts after that, left to ponder what exactly it is you want. It might be stupid and entirely over-optimistic of you, but Lando has already pulled you in. You’re not sure what it is about him. He makes you want more, want to know more. 

Whatever happens will happen, and if things don’t work out…well, Camille is right. You never have to see Lando again. 

His name flashes across your screen later in the night, right before you’re about to go to sleep. You’ve been texting back and forth all day, but this one is different. He’s video calling you right now. 

You stare at his name for longer than you should, finger hovering over the answer button a few beats before pressing it. His face pops into view once the call connects. Like you, he’s sitting in bed, leaned up against the headboard, cozied up in a soft looking jumper. He looks like he’s moments away from drifting off, but he called you, so he must want to talk. 

“Hi,” You say softly. 

“Hey, you.” He smiles, warm and sleepy and all squinty in a way that makes you want to crawl through the screen and tuck him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. “You must be tired.” 

“Eh, I’m alright. Why?” 

“‘Cause you’ve been running through my mind all day.” 

You let out a wildly unappealing snort of laughter at his poor attempt at a pick up line. “That’s terrible! Oh my god, that was awful, Lando, seriously.” 

“No?” His smile grows giddy, shoulders shaking with his chuckles. “Yeah, it was pretty bad, wasn’t it? Got you laughing though.” 

Conversation falls into the same easy nature as this morning, like you’ve known him for ages. He makes you laugh until your ribs hurt, smile until your cheeks feel the same. It still amazes you just how comfortable you feel around him, as someone who usually takes a while to warm up to people. 

Maybe you should take it as a sign. 

A jumble of muffle voices offscreen some time later makes Lando squint. “Hang on, I’ll be right back. Don’t hang up. ” He lets the phone drop onto the bed, checking once to make sure you’re still there before disappearing from sight. 

You hear his footsteps fade, then more voices you can’t quite make out. Someone laughs off in the distance, and then he’s back, resituating himself with the remnants of an amused grin on his lips. 

“Everything okay?” 

“My mates are yelling at me to turn off the light, so I’d better go,” He sighs goodnaturedly, lips turning down into a frown. Then he yawns widely, and you realize how late it’s gotten since you’ve picked up his call. Losing track of time when you’re talking to Lando seems to be a recurring theme. “I’m glad you’re coming tomorrow.” 

Your breath catches a little in your chest, both at his words and the way he’s looking at you through the screen as he says it, nothing but genuine. “Me too.” 

You’re starting to think this whole try not to get attached thing is going to be much harder than you thought. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new chapters :)

[sonnyangeluvrrr]

˚୨୧⋆｡first impressions

You’ve been avoiding his texts for three days.

Each message that pops up from him is like a reminder—of how you tripped on your own feet, how you’d misread his joke, and how the waiter had looked at you, slightly baffled, when you’d accidentally ordered two desserts. Not to mention the spilled wine incident. It plays in your head on repeat, every mortifying moment, until you’re sure he's already written you off as a clumsy mess.

You see his name flash on your phone again—another text—and your stomach tightens.

Nanami: “Are we still on for coffee this week? ☕️”

Nanami: “Let me know if you’re around! No pressure.”

Nanami: “Hey, is everything okay?”

You sigh, feeling that familiar warmth flood through you at his gentleness, at how he's somehow still reaching out. But it’s just a matter of time before he realizes. Before he thinks better of it. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. To just… fade into the background, to let the embarrassment settle without having to explain.

But you hadn’t expected him to show up.

The knock on your door is light but insistent, and your heart lurches. You hesitate, fingers brushing against the handle, already knowing who it is. You open the door, and there Nanami stands, a faint smile playing on his lips as he offers a small wave.

"Hey," he says softly, searching your face with a steady gaze. "I, uh… was worried about you."

You shift on your feet, glancing down, not quite meeting his eyes. "Sorry, I… I've just been busy," you say, voice barely above a whisper, knowing how thin the excuse sounds.

He gives you a look, that quiet, knowing expression he's so good at, and something in it makes your defenses falter. "Really? Busy? Because it kind of seems like you’re avoiding me."

You swallow, rubbing at the back of your neck. "It’s not that. I mean, it’s just…" The words slip out before you can stop them. "I feel like I embarrassed myself on our date. And I didn’t want you to… think about it like that."

His brow furrows, confusion, and something else—something like affection—softening his gaze. "Embarrassed?" he asks, tilting his head. "I thought we had a good time."

You let out a half-laugh, shaking your head, unsure if he's humoring you or if he really means it. "Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I ordered two desserts by accident. And I definitely spilled wine on you. Twice."

He smiles, and it’s the kind that makes you feel seen like he's not just hearing your words but understanding the heart of them. "So you ordered two desserts and spilled some wine. That’s part of what made it fun," he says, leaning against the doorframe as though settling in for a real talk. "You were being yourself. And I liked that."

His words hang between you, each one softening the tightness that’s been sitting heavy in your chest. Still, the doubt lingers.

"But I just… felt like I ruined it," you murmur, finally meeting his eyes. "Like I didn’t come off the way I wanted to."

He reaches out, his hand brushing your arm in a way that’s gentle, grounding. "Hey," he says, his voice gentle but firm. "I wanted to see you. Not some perfect version. The way you laughed at yourself, or how you were excited about that dessert, or even how you kept trying to wipe the wine off my shirt when I said it was fine… that was all you."

You feel your face heat up, but this time it’s something warmer, something less tangled with anxiety.

"So… you’re not, I don’t know, regretting it or anything?"

Nanami laughs, and it’s soft but real like he's surprised you’d even ask. "Regret it? Not a chance. Actually, I was hoping we could do it again," he says, his tone playful, but there’s that sincerity again, woven into every word.

For the first time in days, you feel yourself relax, letting a smile slip through. "Well, maybe next time I won’t spill anything on you."

He chuckles, eyes brightening. "Hey, I make no promises. Maybe I’ll order three desserts this time. Just to keep things interesting."

You laugh, feeling the last of your embarrassment start to dissolve. And when he reaches out to take your hand, his fingers slipping through yours, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Homicipher ending 17 spoilers:

what abt mc clinging onto Mr Crawling after getting kidnapped by Mr Stitch bc they’re still shaken up but super relieved that Mr crawling came to save them

That route is so 🥹🥹🥹

You hasn’t stopped clinging onto Mr Crawling since he saved you from Mr Stitch, fearing that if you’d let go of him that you’d only get kidnapped again and taken elsewhere where you wouldn’t be so lucky. It also didn’t help that your mind kept wandering back to that moment where you were being hauled away, hand outstretched as you called out to Mr Crawling in desperation, before finding yourself in a room with Mr Stitch and fearing what he might do to you before the feeling of relief flooded your body when you saw Mr Crawling.

You were so relived that you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself into his arms, clinging onto to him as he rubbed your back as soothingly as he could, hoping to bring you some sort of comfort while trying to reassure himself that you weren’t going anywhere nor that anyone was going to try and take you away from him.

‘You pain have?’ He asks as he cradles you against his chest and looking you over to make sure Mr Stitch didn’t bring you any harm. ‘Me worry.’ He adds.

‘I’m fine thanks to you, just still a little unnerved is all.’ You replied as you tried to smile at him but it came across as forced and you instead just cling onto him even more, just wanting to get it into your head that you were safe, that no harm would come to you when Mr Crawling was there to keep you safe like he did moments prior; Unfortunately it seemed that no matter what you did your brain was leas to believe that you were still in danger somewhat and it made you unable to feel Mr Crawling’s attempts at comfort and reassurance which you absolutely hated.

Mr Crawling lets out a mournful sound from the back of his throat as he burrows his head into your neck, taking one of your hands and placing it atop of his head and gesture for you to stroke his hair with it, albeit it was a little clunky and clumsily but it did manage to make you smile a little as you began to stroke his hair on your own accord while he purred. ‘Keep you safe. It okay cry.’ He said softly as he made sure to keep a look out, daring anything to try and pry you from his hands and if they do, he’ll make sure to make it hurt however he can if it meant keeping you safe and sound in his arms like you were now.

You chuckled tearfully as you burrowed your head into his shoulder, breathing him in and ignoring the fact that Mr Crawling didn’t smell so pleasant, but in this moment you didn’t care as it was what you connected him with in means of calming yourself downs an regaining composure. ‘You did keep me safe, you really, really did. Thank you Mr Crawling.’ You said while your fingers became entangled in the long black tresses of his hair, toying with them at your own leisure, not feeling the need to escape his embrace just yet when it’s done nothing but bring you back down to reality and back to him.

‘You okay. Happy.’ Mr crawling utters as he shifted a little but as he does so he feels your grip on his tighten and your breath hitch in your throat, almost as though you were scared that he was leaving you when he would never dare entertain such a thing, and he lets out a sound akin to whimpering as he nuzzled your neck in reassurance. ‘Not going.’ He adds. ‘No leaving you.’ Mr Crawling felt you relax in his arms once again and your hand went back to fiddling with his hair and trying to even out your breathing.

‘Im sorry.’ You muttered against his shoulder. ‘Me seem weak.’ Mr crawling frowned as he was the one to tighten his hold on you this time, wanting nothing more then to infuse every ounce of affection and love he has for you into the embrace , letting you know that he was always going to be with you whether you wished for his company or not but in this moment in time you needed him more then ever and he wasn’t going to throw the opportunity to show how capable of a partner he could be away.

‘You strong brave. No weak.’ Mr Crawling reassured as he kissed you lightly on the head, keeping you close, keeping you protected and safe while he kept guard as you felt relaxed enough to fall asleep in his arms though not before saying one final thank you to Mr Crawling and pressing a sleepy kiss to his neck.

[elijahstwink]

i also have the fantasy of fucking elijah in red door mode yooo 😳 ... but if you ever feel inspired and want to write smut abt it , Im interested in reading it ofc,, and there is also just so few red door elijah shit out there 💔

𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓖𝓸

(I’d let him punch me holy this gif is hot)

Your boyfriend is going through a rough time. You help him feel better ;)

Thank you for the request anon! I always feel like writing dark!Elijah smut so this was so fun! It’s also the freakiest thing I’ve written lol. I hope you enjoy - Dex

Warnings: Blood play, Spitting, Choking, Slapping, Oral F!receiving, Dom!Elijah, Sub!reader, Elijah’s pretty mean, overstimulation, blood drinking, degradation, use of slut, whore etc

Seperate warning for this one. This has CNC! (Aka Reader consents for Elijah not to stop when she asks him too)

Your white dress billows behind you as you sprint down the hallway and towards the red door. Your bare feet burn at each step on ragged tile. You glance back to see Elijah turn the corner. His stone cold face and bare chest are covered in blood, all emotion void from his expression. Desperation fuels your speed, your legs burning and your lungs screaming as adrenaline courses through you. Elijah follows at a steady pace, his deliberate steps echoing, his breathing animalistic. He could catch you in an instant, but he prefers the thrill of the chase. He wants to savor your fear, your pain.

His footsteps are unnervingly close as you near the door. Just a little farther…

You slam into the red wood, pain shooting through your arm as you grasp the brass doorknob. It’s locked. You pound on the door, scream, and glance back in terror as Elijah approaches.

“Elijah, please!” you plead, but he keeps coming. This isn’t your Elijah, the kind and noble man you loved. This is a monster.

You turn back to the door, pounding and screaming for help, but it’s too late. Elijah’s hand clamps onto your upper arm, yanking you toward him. You struggle, but his grip is unbreakable. His eyes darken, veins pulsing as he opens his mouth, revealing sharp fangs glinting in the darkness.

Elijah jolts upright in bed, his body drenched in sweat and trembling. Nightmares of hurting you plague him every night since the incident with his mother. The red door haunts his mind, and he can no longer ignore it.

Breathing deeply, Elijah clutches his hair and turns to watch you sleep. Usually, this sight calms him, reminding him that he isn’t the blood-covered man in his dreams. That red door Elijah is just a fragment of himself, a dark fraction everyone has.

But tonight is different. The dreams are more vivid, leaving him feeling feral and dangerous. Every small sound or touch threatens to make him lose control. He needs blood.

Elijah carefully slips out of bed, pulling on grey sweatpants. He moves silently through the dark compound, descending the staircase to the large kitchen. He rounds the island, opens the blood fridge, and light floods the dark space. He grabs three blood bags and rips into one.

As the blood overtakes his senses, veins web below his eyes. He grips the marble countertop harder, ripping open the second bag, anger rising. The taste of blood makes red door Elijah creep to the surface.

“Lijah?” you call from the doorway, wrapped in a silk nightgown. Elijah’s head snaps up, his red eyes meeting yours as the marble edge crumbles in his hand. You rush to him, but before you can reach him, he grabs you by the neck, pinning you against the wall.

Despite his aggressive state, you’re not scared. You’ve been worried for him since he returned, his personality flipping randomly between normal and red door Elijah. The worst was on Bourbon Street, when he tried to rip out a man's heart for bumping into you. Red door Elijah is possessive, never letting you out of his sight, fearing that if you walk away, he’ll start chasing you like in his dreams.

Elijah's grip on your neck is firm but not painful, and you see the conflict in his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay, my love,” you say softly, cupping his cheeks and tracing the veins with your fingertips until they fade.

Elijah’s eyes return to their regular onyx shade, guilt washing over him as he releases your neck and drops the empty blood bag.

“Shh, you’re alright, I’m alright,” you comfort him, wrapping your arms around him as he breathes heavily into the crook of your neck.

“I- I don’t know what to do, I crave you,” Elijah growls into your skin, his fangs gently scratching along your pulse point. Your eyes shut at the contact, but an idea pops into your head. A crazy, probably stupid idea... but an idea nonetheless.

“Perhaps you need to release all the pent up anger.” You suggest carefully. Elijah pulls away from your neck and stares at you in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He places his hands on the wall either side of your head, keeping you trapped against him. You can tell by the look in his eye that he definitely knows what you mean.

“I mean,” You rest your hand flat on Elijah’s bare chest, sliding it down to cup him over his sweatpants. “Let go, take it all out on me.” You gaze up at him innocently, something you know drives him nuts. Elijah swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement.

“No y/n. I wouldn’t be myself, I could hurt you.” Elijah shakes his head, already feeling his alternate personality taking control as his cock thickens under your touch.

“That’s the thing, you won’t hurt me. And as soon as you prove that to yourself, you can start to move past this.” You explain, slipping your hand under his waistband and taking hold of his erection, his length warm in you grasp.

You completely believe what you’re telling him. You know that he would never hurt you if not for pleasure, but that doesn’t stop you feeling like this may be a mistake. After all, Elijah is pretty dominant in bed already. If normal Elijah can edge you for hours or make you cum so much you’re begging for him to stop. Who knows what red door Elijah will do.

“Do you kn-“ Elijah interrupts himself with a deep groan as you push his pants to his feet and bring your unoccupied hand down to play with his balls, rolling them between your fingers. You can’t tear your gaze from his swollen cock and the bead of arousal gathering at the tip as wetness builds between your legs. You could mentally pat yourself on the back right now for not dropping to your knees and licking it up.

He suddenly grips your wrist, rough enough to leave a mark, making you gasp in surprise and release your hold on him. When you look up, you see that his eyes have returned to that crimson shade with veins underneath them. He grabs your neck with his free hand and leans down till your faces are inches apart.

“Do you know what you are asking for?” He breaths against your lips, tightening his hold when you nod. “Words.” He commands sternly.

“Yes, Elijah.” You squeak. He smirks at you, the veins flowing under his eyes.

“And you are aware that if you say stop, I won’t.” Elijah growls. You can tell he’s holding back, needing your consent before doing anything more.

“I know. I want you…” You murmur, bravely grabbing at his crotch again before whispering in his ear, “to ruin me.”

You can visibly see when red door Elijah fully takes over, any apprehension within him vanishes as he suddenly rips your night gown off your body and steps out of his pants, leaving you both naked.

“I didn’t mean here!” You whisper, looking around anxiously. The kitchen is one of the main rooms of the compound. If anyone were to wake up it’s highly likely they’d come to this room.

You squeak as Elijah lifts you onto the centre island and pushes you to lay flat on it. The cold marble countertop against your back sends chills down your spine as Elijah stands between your legs. His eyes are clouded,

“What if someone walks in?” You ask as Elijah bends your knees so that your feet are on the counter and your core is exposed. Elijah doesn’t respond, instead grabbing the last blood bag and holding it over you with a smirk.

You don’t have time to even question what the hell he’s planning before he rips the plastic in half with his hands, drenching you in blood. God this man is lucky you love him because no other human would still be turned on while covered in blood. Elijah leans down so you are face to face, his chest is getting covered in blood now as well.

“If anyone walks in here,” Elijah dips a finger between your breasts, “I’ll snap their neck.” He growls, sucking on his now bloody finger, moaning at the taste.

Red door Elijah doesn’t seem to be the slow and steady type. His movements are rough and almost crazed as he grips your thighs and pulls your legs over his shoulders. Now eye level with your blood covered cunt, Elijah doesn’t hesitate to practically devour you. The filthy sound of his mouth slurping up the mix of blood and arousal between your folds echoes throughout the kitchen. You release a choked moan as he sucks harshly on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Normal Elijah usually starts soft and gradually builds your pleasure to its peak. So this unfamiliar pace fills you with an uncomfortable sensitivity, causing you to grip his hair in both your hands and try to push his head away. Elijah releases a disapproving grunt at your actions. He moves his grip from your thighs to your wrists and pins them straight down at your sides. Your hands clench helplessly at the sleek countertop in an attempt to find something to grip as you squirm with oversensitivity.

When your wrists are tugged on slightly, you lift your head for the first time to watch the man between your legs. Elijah’s face is coloured crimson and veins are moving beneath his skin. A whimper passes your lips when his tongue thrusts inside you and his red eyes meet yours. His gaze is intense and demanding, practically shouting ‘behave’. You throw your head back against the marble with a loud moan as Elijah starts fucking you with his tongue. The feeling of the pointed muscle curling against your sweet spot has you arching your back. Sharp stabs of overstimulation are turning into waves of pleasure, causing you to clench your thighs around his head.

“E-Elijah I’m so close.” You wail, all your pleasure knotting together, building up in your lower stomach. Elijah hums in approval, his tongue working faster. and his nose nudging against your clit. Your moans increase in pitch as you’re brought closer to the edge, your hips jerking and your legs starting to shake. It doesn’t take more then a few thrusts of Elijah’s tongue against the spongy spot inside you before you’re coming, wailing in pleasure and practically grinding on your boyfriends face as you get lost in the euphoric feeling. Your legs are almost vibrating with the intensity of their shaking and your walls are pulsating around Elijah’s tongue as you come down from your orgasm.

Elijah pulls away quite suddenly, releasing his bruising grip on your wrists and dropping your legs from his shoulders. “Stand up.” He orders, taking a step backwards. You would have given him a ‘are your serious right now?’ type of look, if you weren’t too out of it. Instead you stay lying across the counter, trembling as you come down from your high. After a moment of silence you manage to speak out, “Elijah, Can’t.”.

“I said,” he grabs you under your arms and hauls you upwards so you are standing on shaking legs, all your weight being supported by him, “stand up.” He seethes, releasing his grip.

Your knees instantly buckle underneath you and you fall into Elijah’s chest. You would have hit the ground if not for him wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you against his chest and smirking at your feeble state.

“My naughty girl,” Elijah tugs your hair so that your head swings back, your eyes meeting his, “can’t even follow a simple task, hm?” He taunts.

His face has returned to normal, and he seems to have wiped the blood from around his mouth at some point. Elijah’s eyes are clouded with more than lust and you can see the red door version of him staring back at you. He usually talks much more during sex, and you can’t deny that you miss the comforting praise.

That thought is literally smacked away as Elijah’s palm meets your cheek in a light slap. You probably look like an idiot for a split second as you process what he just did.. and how much you liked it. You release a drawn out moan as he repeats the action before grabbing your jaw, holding your head up to his and smirking.

“Do you like that?” Elijah chuckles as you flush in embarrassment.

“If you wish to act like a slut, then I will treat you as such. Open.” He growls, pulling at your jaw as you open your mouth. Red Door Elijah is seemingly full of surprises, as he lines up his mouth with yours and spits. The feeling of someone else’s spit in your mouth would likely make you throw up. But this was Elijah, your boyfriend and the love of your life so of course it feels good. A rush of arousal wets your spent cunt as you gurgle slightly.

Elijah clamps your mouth shut, grinning like a maniac as he instructs you “Swallow,” The slide of his spit down your throat makes you moan, absolutely loving the filthiness of his actions, “Good girl.” He praises you for the first time, giving your jaw a light squeeze before releasing it.

The praise is gone as quickly as it came when Elijah spins you around, bending you over the counter. You gasp at the coldness against your sensitive nipples. He holds your hip with one hand, the other guiding his erect cock through your shiny folds. The pleasure of Elijah nudging your clit with every upstroke distracts you from the feeling on blood slowly drying on your skin.

Your mouth drops in surprise, screaming out as Elijah suddenly enters you in one bruising thrust and with no warning. The stretch is painful, but you’re wet enough that he slides in easily. Your hand shoots behind you on reflex, pushing hard against his torso. Elijah only chuckles at your pathetic attempt of pushing him away, grabbing your wrist and holding it behind your back.

“Too much Elijah, please just wait!” You plead when you feel him starting to move inside you, blood smearing the whit marble underneath you.

“Shh, take it.” Elijah shushes, not waiting for you to adjust before slamming into you again, his tip pressing against your cervix and causing you to sob out a moan. With every battering thrust of his hips, the loud clap of skin meeting skin fills the room.

It doesn’t take more than a minute before the pain dulls into a numbing ache and the pleasure overwhelms you. You’re moaning like a whore, taking every inch of his thick cock inside you, your walls fluttering around him. The way his shaft glides across your g spot makes you jerk with pleasure.

“That’s it, such a sweet little slut falling apart on my cock.” He coos, releasing your hand and pulling you up till your back meets his chest. He wraps his arm around your neck so your chin rests on his bicep and keeps working his hips back and forth, fucking into you in long, brutal strokes. The base of his cock throbs every time he bottoms out, and his balls slap against your slit with wet, filthy noises. His animalistic grunts mix with your cries of pleasure.

“Still too much for you?” He teases, laughing when his only response is a gurgle of incoherent words that you didn’t even notice came from your mouth. “Yeah?” He murmurs, pounding into you at an inhuman speed.

Elijah rests his other hand on your blood stained lower stomach, sending a jolt of warmth through you.

“Who do you belong to?” Elijah whispers, his breath tickling your ear. “Who owns this cunt, y/n?” He runs the tips of his fingers over your clit.

“Y-you Elijah!” You sob, tears forming in your eyes from the intense pleasure this man is giving you.

“That’s my girl.” Elijah praises before bringing his hand down hard on your clit. Surprisingly it wasn’t painful at all. You heard the smack before you felt it and suddenly you were gushing around his cock, the mix of his cock rubbing at your walls and the sharp pleasure to your clit plummeting you into an unexpected orgasm. Your eyes go blurry from tears as you squirt all over the counter and floor. Euphoria runs through you in a single wave as your walls uncontrollably pulsate around Elijah.

“Look at you, cumming on my cock like a good little girl. Making such a mess.” Elijah’s groans, pulling out of you suddenly. You whine at the loss, feeling your slick cunt clench at the air. Elijah turns you to face him before bending down and hooking his arms under your legs. You squeal as he lifts you up, essentially folding you in half as your knees touch your shoulders. Elijah’s hands cup your arse, and you wrap your own around his neck. He shows no strain as he holds you in mid air, turning you both so he can lean slightly against the counter.

You throw your head back and clench your eyes shut as Elijah pushes inside you again, the sensitivity of having just cum causing you to claw harshly at his back.

“Elijah, stop!” You call out, the overstimulation feeling like too much. He doesn’t listen, not that you were expecting him too.

You’re absolutely helpless as he starts moving you up and down his length, using you like some type of fuck doll. You fidget and squirm relentlessly in an attempt to make him stop.

“Look at me!” Elijah barks. You use the little strength you have to lift your head, meeting his intense and feral gaze. “You are going to shut up, take my cock and you’re going to fucking enjoy it. Do you understand?” He sneers, slowing down so you can catch your breath and come up with a coherent sentence. You’ve never heard Elijah speak so vulgar before and it strangely turns you on.

You know that if you put up enough of a fight, your Elijah would come back and stop immediately. He’d probably beat himself up with guilt while he holds you and apologises way too many times. But you don’t want Elijah to feel bad, you asked him to do this in the first place.

“I understand, wanna take it.” You rush out before crashing your lips onto his, you can feel his grin as you try to shove your tongue into his mouth. He parts his lips for you and you whimper when he sucks heavily on your tongue.

Elijah thrusts his hips up erratically, his thrusts reaching vampire speed as his climax steadily approaches. You break the kiss to bury your face in his neck when you feel your own rising in your gut.

Elijah lifts one hand to grip your hair and pull your head back to present your neck. Searing pain rushes through you as his fangs pierce your skin, mixing with the pleasure of his thrusts. Your vision goes black as your third orgasm of the night crushes you. The feeling of Elijah’s cum filling your tight cunt only prolongs your pleasure. You feel Elijah retreat from your neck as his moans fill the air, mixing with what you realise is your own screams.

Elijah slips out of you when his cock stops spurting, feeling the aggressive, lust filled haze of red door Elijah dissolving with every passing moment. He sits you on the counter momentarily to unhook his arms from underneath your legs. Then he lifts your trembling form back into his embrace, one hand holding your bum for support and the other cradling your head into his neck. Your grip around him loosens as you continue riding the waves of pleasure, shaking like a leaf in his hold.

Elijah chuckles endearingly as you moan into his neck. “Still coming baby?” He grins, kissing the top of your head. You manage a small whimper of agreement as you feel him start to walk somewhere.

Thank god for vampire speed, because Elijah has you in a warm shower within the minute. You rest against him, half asleep, as he washes the dried blood off your skin. After you are both clean and dry, you settle under the covers of your bed, cuddled up to the love of your life.

“Please tell me you don’t regret it.” Elijah mumbles into your hair. You release a tired laugh, your face pressed against his chest.

“No my love, I don’t regret it at all. Did it help?” You yawn, cuddling further into his comforting embrace.

“Definitely.” Elijah sighed, his mind feeling a lot calmer and his body tired. You tilt your head up, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

“Love you lijah.” You smile into the kiss as you speak. Elijah copies your grin as he responds, “Love you so much baby.”. He gives you one last peck before leaning back into the pillow and closing his eyes, waiting till he hears your cute snores before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

The couple are passed out cold by morning, still recovering from their late night. Klaus however, is very much awake as he stumbles into the living room, where Freya and Kol are engaged in an intense game of chess.

“Do not go into the kitchen!” Klaus gags, collapsing onto the couch in a dramatic heap. “And remind me to kill both Elijah and Y/N.”.

T A G L I S T (msg or comment to be on it)

@b1tchy

[pucksandpower]

Black Magic

Charles Leclerc x witch!Reader

Summary: famously non-superstitious Charles takes drastic measures to break the Monaco curse

Charles rubs his temples as he stares at the phone, mentally rehearsing how he’s going to convince you to meet with him. He knows it’s a long shot — from what his mother told him, you’re not exactly eager to use your … abilities, as she called them. But he’s desperate at this point after years of the Monaco curse haunting him.

He takes a deep breath and taps the call button. It rings once, twice, three times before you finally pick up with a cautious “Hello?”

“Y/N? Hi, this is Charles Leclerc. I was given your number by my mother ...” His voice trails off as an awkward silence stretches between you.

Finally you respond, sounding confused. “Pascale? But why would she ...”

Charles rushes to explain. “She said you might be able to help me with … well, with breaking a curse of sorts. One that’s been plaguing me for years at the Monaco Grand Prix.” He pauses, cringing a little at how ridiculous he sounds saying it out loud.

There’s another long pause before you let out a soft sigh. “I should’ve known this would happen eventually. Listen, I only do that kind of thing for family emergencies these days. Curses and spellwork … it’s not something I take lightly.”

“I understand,” Charles says quickly. “But you have to know what the Monaco Grand Prix means to me. It’s my home race, the most meaningful one on the calendar for me. And yet, every single year something goes wrong — mechanical failures, crashes, bad strategy calls, communication issues. It’s like I’m cursed to never win it.”

You’re silent for a moment, seeming to consider his words. “I’m aware of the … situation,” you say finally. “But even if I did agree to look into it, breaking an actual curse isn’t something that happens overnight. It would take time and effort.”

“I’ll give you anything you need — time, money, whatever it takes,” Charles insists. “Just … please. I’m desperate here. My heart can’t keep taking these kinds of blows.”

Another pause, then a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. But you have to promise to take this seriously and listen to what I say. No skepticism, no brushing it off as some kind of joke. This is real to me.”

Relief floods through Charles. “Yes, absolutely, I promise. When can you come by? I’m staying in Monaco until the race next weekend.”

“I’ll need a little while to prepare,” you say slowly. “But … I can try to come by Tuesday? We’ll need to talk more about this in person.”

“Tuesday is perfect,” Charles agrees eagerly. “Truly, thank you for this. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for your time.”

You let out a small huff of laughter. “You keep your championship hopes, I’ll keep my soul. We’ll call it even.”

A bemused smile crosses Charles’ face at that. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yes. I’ll be there Tuesday.” You hang up abruptly, leaving Charles staring at the phone with a mixture of hope and trepidation. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into … but he’s willing to try anything at this point.

Two days later, you show up at Charles’ apartment looking rather apprehensive. He ushers you inside, eyes raking over you with obvious curiosity. You’re younger than he expected, maybe mid-twenties, with a casual air and slight frame that doesn’t exactly scream “all-powerful witch“.

Still, he tries to withhold any skepticism as promised. “Thanks for coming. Can I get you anything? Some wine, or ...”

You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks. I’d rather just get down to business if that’s okay.”

Charles nods and you both settle onto the couch, an anticipatory silence stretching out. Finally you clear your throat. “So. Tell me more about this … curse.”

And so he does, relaying in exhaustive detail the string of unlikely disasters that have befallen him at nearly every Monaco Grand Prix since he started in Formula 2. Crashes, mechanical failures, pit stops gone wrong, you name it … it’s like the racing gods have it out for him every year on his home streets.

You listen patiently, nodding along, your expression unreadable. When he finishes, you’re quiet for a long moment before speaking. “You know curses and superstitions have existed in motorsports for decades, right? It’s a high-adrenaline, high-risk environment … prime territory for that kind of thing to take root.”

Charles frowns. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

“I’m not saying that.” You shake your head. “I’m just … managing expectations here. Breaking an entrenched curse, if that’s even what this is, isn’t easy. It’ll take much more than a couple of days of spellwork.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “So you’re telling me you can’t help.”

“I didn’t say that.” You eye him levelly. “I’m saying this is going to require time, patience, and an open mind from you. If you’re willing to put in that kind of commitment, then I’ll do what I can. But you have to go into this knowing it might not work.”

Charles is silent for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally he nods. “Okay. You’re right, I’ll stop being skeptical and doubting this. I’m ready to fully commit, whatever that takes.”

A small smile flits across your face and you nod. “Alright then. I’ll need to gather some supplies first, do you have anything personal I can use? Something meaningful, something that represents your driving?”

Charles scrambles up to rummage through his drawers, finally emerging with a battered red fireproof racing glove, handing it over to you. “Will this work? My godfather gave it to me when he first started teaching me to kart.”

You take it with a nod, turning it over in your hands. “It’s perfect. I’ll need to attune it and prepare a few … components.” You glance up at him. “This may take me a day or two. But after that, I can try to get a sense of what we’re dealing with.”

He nods, feeling that flicker of hope rekindle in his chest. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything else.”

You rise, slipping the glove into your bag. “I will. And Charles?” You hesitate, looking almost nervous for the first time since you arrived. “I know we’ve only just met, but … I want you to understand how serious I’m taking this. Messing with forces like curses … it’s not something I do lightly. If I can’t help in the end, it’s not for lack of trying, okay?”

Something about your sincere tone puts Charles at ease and he nods. “I know. Thank you for this … really.”

A shy smile ghosts across your lips before you slip out, leaving Charles alone with his doubts and hopes alike. Over the next couple of days, he tries to distract himself with race prep and strategy meetings, but his mind keeps drifting back to you and your mysterious preparations. He’s not sure whether to feel hopeful or just plain foolish for entertaining all of this curse nonsense.

Finally, Thursday afternoon rolls around and you arrive once more at his door, looking oddly serene. You accept his offered glass of wine this time as you settle on the couch, clutching the battered racing glove and a few other strange items.

“Okay,” you say, taking a fortifying breath. “I’ve done what I can to attune myself to your energy and prepare. I should be able to at least get a sense now of what we’re dealing with.”

Charles nods, feeling an anxious flutter in his chest as you close your eyes, seeming to slip into some kind of trance-like state. The seconds tick by, tension building in the air around you. Just when he’s about to break the silence, your eyes fly open with a gasp.

“Wow,” you breathe out, looking utterly stunned. “This is … wow.”

“What?” Charles prods urgently. “What did you see?”

You shake your head, almost looking scared now. “I’ve never encountered anything like this. The sheer scale, the power … Charles, this isn’t just some simple bad luck curse. This is dark, powerful magic rooted over years and years. Maybe even generations.”

A leaden feeling sinks into the pit of Charles’ stomach at your ominous words. “So you’re saying you can’t break it?”

“I didn’t say that.” You draw in a steadying breath. “But it’s not going to be easy. Or quick. This is going to take serious ritual work over an extended period of time. I’ll need more supplies, maybe some help from others. It’s … a huge undertaking.”

You look up at Charles, expression grave. “But I think I can do it. If you’re willing to fully commit and see this through, no matter how long it takes or what I need from you, then I’ll put everything I have into breaking this curse.”

Charles stares at you for a long moment, feeling the weight of what you’re saying. This is so much bigger than he ever imagined. Part of him wants to run from the sheer enormity of it all.

But then he pictures it — finally winning his home race after all these years, the crowd roaring as he drinks in the euphoric feeling. No more bad luck, no more disasters clouding his joy. Just pure triumph.

His jaw sets in determination as he meets your eyes. “Whatever it takes. I’m in.”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “Okay then. We’ll get started right away. This may get … intense at times. But I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

“Thank you,” Charles says fervently. “Truly, thank you for taking this on.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you reply, something sparking in your eyes. “We’ve got work to do.”

And just like that, you dive into preparation mode — making lists, sending messages, gathering spell ingredients and components that have Charles raising his eyebrows more than once. He tries to follow along as best he can, but it’s like a foreign language to him.

After a while, he can’t help but ask. “So … did you always know you could do this kind of thing? The witchcraft, I mean?”

You pause, considering his question. “It’s a family tradition, passed down. My grandmother started teaching me from a very young age. But I’ll be honest … I never fully embraced it until recently.”

Charles feels himself grow curious. “What changed your mind?”

A strange look crosses your face and you’re quiet for a moment before replying. “My grandmother was ill. The doctors had … given up, more or less. So in desperation, I tried to help the only way I knew how. And it … worked, somehow. After that, it was hard to keep denying what I could do.”

“Wow,” Charles says softly. “That’s amazing. I can’t even imagine ...”

You shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. “It’s a lot, I know. Probably hard to wrap your head around. Which is why I appreciate you being so open-minded about this.”

Charles gives you a crooked smile. “Well, I’m relying on you here. I figure I should at least return the favor and be open-minded.”

A surprising laugh escapes you and you shake your head in amusement. “You’ve got a point there.”

A surprisingly comfortable silence lapses between you, broken only when you glance at your watch. “Alright, enough waiting around. We should get back to work if we want to be ready before race day.”

Charles feels nervous anticipation flutter in his chest again. “You really think we can pull this off that quickly?”

“We have to try,” you reply, already focused and in work mode once more. “Just be prepared … this isn’t going to be easy for either of us.”

Charles swallows hard and nods. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Over the next several days, Charles is swept up in a whirlwind of strange rituals and practices — chanting, incantations, symbolic offerings, things he never could’ve imagined before this week. You lead him through it all with a calm patience, guiding him every step of the way.

It’s completely draining, leaving him wrung out and exhausted every night … but he can’t deny the noticeable shift he feels with each passing day too. It’s almost like a weight, a cloud of dread he’s carried for years, is slowly dissipating. He tries not to get his hopes up, but it’s hard … especially with the way your face glows with quiet pride whenever your eyes meet his.

Finally, the night before the race arrives. You’ve worked practically around the clock except for when Charles had to leave for free practice and qualifying, both of you barely sleeping or eating as you poured everything into breaking the curse.

As the sun sets over Monaco’s famed harbors and hills, you finally seem to pause, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I think … I think that’s everything we can do for now.”

Charles stares at you with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “You mean … it’s done? The curse is broken?”

You exhale slowly, looking suddenly drained but at peace. “As much as it can be, at least. The groundwork is laid, the ritual completed. But actually severing that kind of ancient tie ...” You shake your head. “We’ll have to see what happens tomorrow. I’ve done everything I can.”

Relief and gratitude wash over Charles as he reaches out to grasp your hand impulsively. “Thank you,” he says fervently. “For all of this … I can’t even begin to express how much it means.”

You seem surprised by his emotional outburst for a moment before squeezing his hand back gently. “You’re very welcome, Charles. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure I had it in me at first. But you put so much faith in me. That meant everything.”

He holds your gaze, feeling an unexpected sense of connection pass between you. So much has happened in such a short span of time — he came to you a skeptic, but now he feels like he’s been through a transformative experience. And you … you’ve put your entire being into helping him, far beyond any reasonable expectation.

The air almost seems to crackle with tension as you both search each other’s eyes. Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, you start leaning towards each other infinitesimally. Charles’ heart kicks up a staccato rhythm as your faces inch closer together ...

Until finally, your lips meet in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It’s achingly gentle and sweet, at odds with the intensity thrumming underneath. When you finally part, Charles feels almost dazed, his heart pounding.

“Wow,” he breathes out, unable to tear his eyes away from yours. “That was ...”

“Yeah,” you murmur back, looking equally affected. “It was.”

A silence stretches out as you simply gaze at each other. So much has passed between you in these short days — an entire lifetime’s worth of intimacy and connection. It’s overwhelming and exciting all at once.

Finally, Charles seems to shake himself out of the dazed reverie. Clearing his throat, he says gruffly, “Anyway, um … thank you again. I should probably try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

“Right, of course,” you respond quickly, flushing slightly. “The race. Yes, that’s … probably a good idea.”

An awkward pause hangs in the air before Charles blurts out, “You’ll be there though, right? At the race, I mean? As my guest?”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He returns your smile, feeling lighter than he has in years. “Okay, good. That’s really good.”

With that, and one last lingering look, you gather your things and slip out, leaving Charles alone with his whirling thoughts and cautiously rising hope. He has no idea what tomorrow will bring — triumph or despair. But for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s not facing it alone.

As he climbs into bed that night, his mind keeps drifting back to that unexpected, electric kiss and the connection you seemed to share, if only for a moment. He can’t stop replaying it, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin ...

With a groan, Charles rolls over, trying in vain to shut off his thoughts. He needs to rest. Tomorrow is everything he’s been working towards for years — his best hope at finally ending the Monaco curse. And you’ll be there, your faith and magic bound to his dream.

Finally, Charles manages to drift into a restless sleep, his unconscious mind swirling with visions of chequered flags and your smiling face in the crowd. Whatever happens, he knows nothing will ever be the same after tomorrow.

***

The next morning dawns bright and clear, a perfect Monaco day. As Charles gets ready to head to the circuit, he can’t shake the anxious flutter in his chest.

This is it. His moment of truth.

Just before he’s about to leave, a soft knock comes at the door. When he opens it, you’re standing there looking almost as nervous as he feels.

“Hey,” you say with a small smile. “Thought I’d come wish you luck in person. And … give you one last thing for the race.”

You hold out a small silk pouch which Charles takes curiously. Opening it up, he pulls out the same battered racing glove he’d given you days ago, now embroidered with strange runic symbols.

“I imbued it with every protection ritual and good luck charm I could think of,” you explain. “As an extra boost on top of the work we’ve already done. Maybe it’ll help settle those pre-race jitters too.”

Charles feels a wave of affection crest over him as he looks at the glove, then back up at you. “You’re incredible, you know that?” He says softly. “Truly, I don’t know how to thank you enough for everything.”

You duck your head shyly, but he can see the pleased flush on your cheeks. “You don’t need to thank me. Just go out there and get that win you’ve been waiting for, okay?”

“I will,” Charles promises fervently. He pauses, then seems to make a split-second decision, stepping forward to cup your face in his hands. “And when I do … I’m taking you out for the biggest celebration Monaco has ever seen.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but you give a breathless little nod. “It’s a date then.”

The corner of Charles’ mouth quirks up. “It’s a date,” he echoes, letting his thumb brush over your cheekbone lingeringly before forcing himself to step back. “I should get going. But I’ll see you out there later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you confirm, looking almost as flustered as he suddenly feels. “Good luck, Charles.”

He shoots you one last, blazing look before tearing himself away, hurrying out to his waiting car. The entire drive to the circuit, his heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He can’t decide if it’s just pre-race adrenaline or something more … something sparked by you and that searing, promising look you gave him.

By the time he arrives, gets into his race suit and fireproofs, and settles into the cramped cockpit of his Ferrari, Charles is wound up like a tightly-coiled spring. His eyes keep drifting over to the embroidered glove still clutched in his hand, feeling the weight of everything it represents — your devotion, your magic, and the hope of finally breaking free from years of heartbreak.

As the cars are wheeled out onto the grid and the pre-race festivities begin, Charles scans the garage until his eyes finally land on you. You’re standing with a perfect viewpoint, eyes already locked on him, and when you catch his gaze you mouth “Good luck“ with an encouraging smile.

A determination like he’s never felt before surges through Charles’ veins. He’s going to win this race, not just for himself but for you too after everything you’ve sacrificed. Giving a firm nod, he slips the glove beneath his suit and grips the steering wheel tightly, watching the lights flick from red.

And as they finally go green and the cars roar away, Charles leans into the first turn in pure focus and exhilaration. For once, his mind is clear of any doubt or dread about the Monaco curse. He can only think about racing, about achieving his dream ...

And afterwards, celebrating that dream coming true with you.

***

As the deliriously happy celebrations continue around him at Monza, Charles can barely catch his breath. The euphoria of a hard-fought victory is still pulsing through his veins, that cherished feeling never getting old no matter how many times he experiences it.

He’s in the middle of accepting congratulations from his mechanics when he sees a Sky Sports reporter, making a beeline for him with her microphone in hand. Trying to tamp down his giddy smile slightly, he turns to face her.

“Charles! Huge congratulations on another amazing win today,” the reporter gushes as soon as she reaches him. “You’re really hitting your stride this season, what a comeback from the early struggles.”

“Thank you. Yes, the team has been doing incredible work to get me a car capable of winning,” Charles replies graciously. “I’m just thrilled to be able to deliver for them.”

“And for the fans too, who have been utterly captivated watching this gripping title battle unfold,” she continues. “Speaking of which, I have to ask — the viewers have been flooding us with one question in particular recently. What’s the story behind those little symbols that keep popping up on your race suit collar? Some kind of good luck charms maybe?”

At the mention of the embroidered symbols, Charles feels his lips quirking up into a small, unconscious smile. He should have known someone would eventually ask about them — the fans on social media have certainly been speculating endlessly.

“Ah, you spotted those?” He says lightly. “Well, it’s um … it’s actually something my girlfriend does for me before every race weekend.”

The reporter’s eyes widen with obvious interest, scenting a prime bit of gossip. “Your girlfriend? We had no idea you were dating someone, Charles! Do tell us more.”

Charles lets out a slightly self-conscious chuckle, feeling the tips of his ears going pink. He’s intensely private about his personal life, preferring to keep you out of the spotlight as much as possible. But the story behind the symbols is too meaningful to brush off entirely.

“Yes, well my girlfriend prefers to stay out of the public eye,” he explains carefully. “Let’s just say she comes from a rather … unique background and heritage. She has certain talents and practices that are very important to her.”

The reporter blinks at him in obvious confusion. “Wait, is she some kind of … psychic or something?”

“Not exactly,” Charles demurs, fighting back an amused grin at the mental image. “More like … well, I suppose you could call her a witch, of sorts.”

A shocked silence falls over the surrounding reporters who have tuned into their exchange. For a long beat, no one seems to know how to react to such an unexpected revelation. Charles doesn’t think he’s ever seen the media look so bemused before.

Finally, the reporter seems to find her voice again. “A … witch?” She repeats slowly. “As in, like, cauldrons and broomsticks and the whole bit?”

Charles lets out a full laugh at that. “Well, not quite like that, no. But she does practice certain … rituals and magics, let’s say. Most of which, I’ll admit, still seems completely mad to me.”

The reporter’s expression is one of fascination now as she leans in closer with her microphone. “And she does these rituals and … magics ... for you? Before races?”

“Exactly,” Charles confirms with a nod. “She adds protective symbols and charms onto things like my race suit, my helmet, sometimes other items depending on the ritual. It’s her way of looking out for me, of sending some extra luck and security my way on race weekends.”

He pauses, his smile softening unconsciously as he thinks about you. “I’ll be honest, I was pretty skeptical of it all at first. The whole concept of witchcraft and curses seemed ... well, rather far-fetched, you know? But she’s been so devoted to her practices, so sincere in her beliefs about the positive energies she wants to send my way … how could I not start to believe in it too?”

The media seems to be hanging on his every word now, caught up in this bizarre but undeniably romantic tale. The reporter lets out a wistful sigh. “Well, it’s clearly been working like a charm so far this season! Maybe the rest of the grid had better start looking into getting their own race day witches on board.”

A ripple of laughter spreads through the group at that as Charles shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, I can see that becoming very popular around the paddock.”

“So does she come to all the races then, your witch girlfriend?” Another reporter pipes up curiously. “Is she wandering around doing spellwork in the backrooms?”

“Oh, no no, nothing like that,” Charles chuckles. “She prefers to keep things … subtle, let’s say. Just the little symbols and charms. Though she is here today actually.”

The reporter’s eyes light up like she’s just struck journalistic gold. “She is? And does she get to celebrate with you after wins like this?”

A soft, almost shy smile plays across Charles’ lips as he nods. “Yes, whenever her schedule allows she tries to come to the races. And we’ll definitely be celebrating together tonight, just us.”

He gets a slightly far-off look in his eyes, seeming to get lost in the thought for a moment. The reporters watching on collectively hold their breaths, waiting for him to divulge more juicy details about this mysterious girlfriend.

Finally, Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat. “But anyway, I should really get back to the team to share this incredible day with them properly.”

The reporter makes one last attempt. “Oh, go on, just give us her name at least? Enquiring minds want to know about this charming race day witch of yours!”

Charles throws her an apologetic look. “You know I have to protect her privacy. All I can say is … she’s pretty remarkable. And she’ll probably hex me if I start giving out too many details about her!”

Laughs and groans of disappointment rise up from the reporters at being denied the full scoop. But they know better than to push Charles too far. With some final shouted congratulations, they gradually disperse, no doubt rushing off to publish their articles about the shocking revelation of Charles Leclerc’s witchy girlfriend.

As the small crowd clears out, Charles feels a light touch on his elbow and turns to find you standing there, eyes sparkling with amusement and fondness.

“Well, you’ve certainly given the paddock something to gossip about now,” you tease lightly. “A charming race day witch, am I?”

Charles makes a show of rolling his eyes, even as his cheeks flush a bit at your teasing. “What was I supposed to tell them? You know how much I hate discussing our personal lives with the media.”

“I know, I know.” You rise on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I thought it was … sweet, actually. How you talked about my practices.”

Charles’ expression softens as he gazes down at you. Ever since that electric evening in Monaco when you first worked your magic on the infamous curse (and him), your relationship has deepened into something truly beautiful. At first, he admits he was still somewhat skeptical of the mystical rituals and protective charms you claimed to do for him.

But race after race, as the victories kept mounting with no traces of bad luck or mishaps, he’s become nearly as devoted a believer as you. And it goes far beyond just race day superstitions now. Seeing the depth of your spirituality, your connection to unseen mystical forces, has opened his eyes in so many ways.

He pulls you flush against him, cupping your face tenderly as he murmurs, “I meant every word. What you do … it means everything to me, you know that right? Whether the magic is real or not, your rituals give me a sense of peace and security I’ve never felt before.”

You gaze up at him with those captivating eyes that never fail to make his heart stutter. “I know. And that’s why I’ll never stop doing them for you. You make me feel … connected. Vital. Like my gifts can actually make a positive impact, instead of being some weird family quirk.”

Charles lets his thumb gently trace the delicate line of your cheekbone, drinking in every detail of your beloved face. “They do make an impact, mon cœur. Probably more than either of us can comprehend.”

He draws you into a lingering kiss, one that sends delicious sparks of heat ricocheting through his body. When you finally break apart, you’re both smiling and slightly flushed.

“Mmm, I should really start charging the team for services rendered, if that’s the payment plan,” you joke breathlessly.

Charles arches one eyebrow at you. “Trust me, they would go broke in a week trying to keep up.”

You let out a full laugh at that, the musical sound making his heart swell. He loves this — the moments of playful intimacy and banter, feeling so incredibly grounded and content with you. Before you came into his life, such tender domesticity always seemed like an impossible dream given his lifestyle.

Pulling you close once more, he nuzzles into the soft skin of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. “Let’s go home,” he murmurs huskily. “I have a victory to properly celebrate … and I require your particular skills again tonight.”

You shiver slightly in his arms, drawing back just enough to fix him with a heated look. “My skills are always at your service. Shall we summon a portal or ...”

He huffs out a laugh at your playful tone, secretly loving when you tease him about the more fanciful aspects of witchcraft. “Why don’t we just take the car for now? No need to alarm the locals by apparating in the middle of the paddock.”

Chuckling, you lean up to steal one more lingering kiss before murmuring, “Deal. Now let’s get out of here before that reporter comes sniffing around for more gossip.”

Taking his hand, you start leading him away from the crowded pit lane and back toward the nearby motorhomes. With every step, Charles can feel the thrum of excitement building in his veins, fueled by much more than just the adrenaline of his race win.

There’s a steady warmth pulsing deep within him now, a sense of gratitude and contentment that suffuses his very soul. Ever since that fateful day in Monaco when he let you into his life, everything has shifted into vibrant new focus.

He’s never been superstitious, not really — he prides himself on being practical, logical, leaving little room for spiritual or religious beliefs. And yet … with you, a whole unseen mystical world has opened up to him in the most extraordinary way. Even if he still doesn’t fully understand the intricacies of your rituals and practices, he knows with certainty how they make him feel.

Protected. Centered. Empowered.

Loved, more deeply than he’s ever experienced.

As you make your way hand-in-hand through the chaos of post-race celebrations, trading giddy grins and teasing jokes, Charles feels it all shining outward from his very core — past the fame, the accomplishments, the never-ending pressures of being an elite athlete. With you by his side, he’s found a serenity and sense of self far beyond what any championship could provide.

So tonight, as you cuddle together and let your energies flow over him in that uniquely intimate way, he’ll pour every ounce of devotion and love he feels right back into you. Because in the end, that’s the most powerful force of all — one that transcends even the wildest of your spells and charms.

As long as you two are bound together on this path, no force in the universe could ever curse him again.

[ajortga]

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pairing: wednesday addams x supernatural!fem reader

word count: 5.1k

summary: wednesday has always thought she was destined to live alone without love, that is, until you come along, with a few negative first impressions.

-

“En garde.”

You pull the mask over your face, blowing the bangs out of your face, positioning yourself as students gather around. 

“Prete,”

You face your opponent, both catching your breaths. It was the last round, the score was tied, seven to seven, and this round was the tie-breaker. 

Wednesday faced you, the mask covering her stoic face as she calculated her moves to do. She couldn’t lose to you. She wouldn’t let it happen. Sure she had lost, once. 

But the Addams never lose. It made Wednesday feel vulnerable if she did.

“Allez!”

Immediately, Wednesday lunges towards you, aiming for your stomach. You dodge her, moving to the side as you both begin to try and succeed. It’s silent, the occasional gasps and murmurs of who may win flooding around the circle.

After a few long seconds of dodging, grunting, and clashing sabres, you start to notice Wednesday’s tactics. She rotates clockwise each time she misses another hit since you take at least 2 seconds to get back up. So as you jump back from another lunge, you make sure to bend your knees as you charge diagonally.

The whistle blows as your sabre barely grazes her uniform.

“Halt!” 

You pant, taking off your mask as everyone gasps. You had just beaten Wednesday Addams. 

Gosh did it feel good to feel your hair breathe, looking around at shocked faces. Particularly the one that stood in front of you, taking off her mask and her eyebrows furrowing as the professor raises your arm, “Y/N wins the point, meaning she has won the match.”

Okay..

-

“That was so awesome!” Enid says, looking quite ecstatic. “Wednesday was like pow poom poom! But you were like, no, pow pow pow! You should’ve seen yourself! You were basically flying in the air!”

“It was not that dramatic,” you huff, giggling a little and walking to the quad with her, “I didn’t even want to go against her, I seriously feel like she despises me. I only went up because everyone started making me pressured to go there.”

It was true, when you first transferred to the school, something in Wednesday made her feel sick. You were a lot better than her in everything, and though you were the complete opposite of Bianca, whom always wanted to challenge her, Wednesday had the urge to prove herself.

It started when you answered Mrs. Thornhill’s question within seconds. A question that required at least a few minutes of calculating. She could swear she cracked her pencil in half as she immediately looked up with bulging eyes.

She didn’t know what the feeling was. She was always at the top of her class. It made her intrigued by you. And she’d kill anyone who said it was admiration.

Wednesday Addams did not admire anyone. It was a stupid word that had a stupid meaning. 

-

“She’s some sort of mastermind,” Wednesday grits, pacing around her room as Thing taps around her bed. “First, she beats me at questions, and now fencing? She’s asking me for death.”

Thing doesn’t respond, making Wednesday turn to him. “What do you want now?” He makes a gesture with his hands as it takes the girl to process what he means.

“You stupid pathetic-” She grabs Thing, shaking him.

“Weds!” 

Enid’s voice makes Wednesday immediately put down the hand, looking at her. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you’d be out shopping with your friends.”

The colorful short hair girl looks around, “Well, it’s been two hours, but I’m here now. And I brought a friend! I hope you don’t mind!”

Oh god. She’s gonna see the end of it. “Enid, one of you is already bad enough. How bad is it going to be if you bring a-” She turns around to see that the friend was you.

Oh.

“Wednesday, this is Y/N, Y/N, Wednesday.”

At this point, you both knew who the other was.

You look around awkwardly, giving a lopsided smile that didn’t really look like a smile. Was it nice to meet her? You didn’t know.

Wednesday’s eyes that stared into yours looked to the side, “I know. You’re interrupting my writing time.”

Enid, being next to you, immediately furrows her eyebrows. “You weren’t writing when we came in.”

“And why are you the judge of that?”

“We aren’t going to bother you.”

“Your presence already bothers me,” Wednesday says stoically, for some reason you felt like that was directed to you more than Enid.

You elbow Enid gently, “Let’s just go, we can crash at Yoko’s maybe.”

“Sure.”

As Wednesday hears the door close, a part of her that won’t go away itches at her, wishing that maybe she could’ve let you guys stay.

..

After your magic lessons and school overall, you always found yourself in the library. It was peaceful, filled with books, even random cats roaming on tables. 

By the end of each day, to say the least, you were burnt out. 

As you studied, you glanced at a plant near the window, slowly crackling. With no sun, how could it grow? It was gloomy here at Nevermore. 

You placed a bookmark on your book and pushed it aside, focusing on the plant. Soon enough, it slowly drifted towards you, and plopped on your desk.

..

The doors of the library slightly opened and closed as Wednesday stepped in. Her hands were filled with cases and files of the Hyde, and well, many people of interest.

Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t stand Enid’s pop music, so she resorted to the library, looking for a place to sit.

She turned left, went straight, turned a corner, then turned back when she was met with a familiar figure.

An “oh,” fell from her lips as she watched your figure studying the plant rather than your actual work. You brought it closer to you, and then she saw the brittle plant begin to grow back to life, turning into a blue flower.

Something deep inside Wednesday’s chest twisted–she should be hating you.

-

A few days later, Wednesday was in the middle of her investigations. It was evening, and she was in her dorm the whole day alone, papers scattered everywhere, an evidence board up, an exhausted Addams.

A click of a door sounded as the girl turned around to be met with you and Enid. 

“Weds!” The girl next to you hollers, “We’re having a girls night tonight. You should totally join, a sleepover, smores, study hall, gossip-”

“I’m going out tonight for the Hyde,” Wednesday says, flipping through the pages.

“The Hyde?” You ask, looking between her and Enid.

“Stay out of this,” she snaps.

You narrow your eyes, brushing the topic off as you look at the item behind her. “Is that seriously a decapitated hand?”

Thing raises his fingers at you, tapping on the desk he was on.

Immediately he feels himself be lifted up as you bring him closer, who’s currently floating. Wednesday tries not to watch but she turns to look at her companion that is now placed into your hands. 

Most people would scream, instead, you look at him closely. “Hello, little one. I’ve never seen a creature like you before. What’s your name?”

The hand makes a few gestures, before you nod slowly. “Thing,” you mumble, testing his name on your tongue. “Suits you, you make me want to stitch you a little hat for Christmas.”

You place him back down, but instead, he jumps on your head.

“He never did that to me before!” Enid says, laughing as Thing happily rests on your head.

Wednesday can’t remember Thing doing that to her either when she first met him.

She keeps attention on her work as she speaks, “So, Y/N. How heavy can you lift?”

“Um.. My arms can handle maybe f-”

“I meant,” Wednesday gestures with her hands.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know.” You respond, taking one of Enid’s books as it drifts towards you and flips through the pages, before putting it away. “Usually anything I try lifting is able to lift, but if I’m being honest, I’ve only lifted lighter things. When it’s heavier, it’s like you need to put more effort to lift, and if it’s farther it goes the same for that.”

Wednesday slowly nods, looking away.

-

In the midst of night, the braided hair girl, wearing a snood, explores the dark forest. She had to prove that the Hyde wasn't a figment of her imagination.

A soft rustling noise sounded in the distance as Wednesday listened. She walked a little faster, coming across a tree with scratch marks. She nibbled her lip, taking out her camera to take a photo, before placing it back into her bag.

The sounds of leaves crackling grew newer, and before Wednesday knew it, she was met with.. You and Enid?

“What the hell are you doing here?” Enid whispered, looking freaked out. You just looked around, looking like you were just there for moral support.

“I told you, I’m looking for the Hyde. Gosh, Enid, I thought you were the Hyde.”

“Do you seriously just go out at night with no sense of self-protection?” You ask, shivering. It was freezing out here.

“It’s for the thrill,” she responds, her eyes slowly relaxing as she sees your shaking form. “And did you seriously go out at night in the cold with no jacket?”

“Well I only dressed for where I thought I was going to end up for the night,” you groan, kicking a rock on the floor.

“You two should probably leave, it’s dangerous out here.”

“Then why are you out?”

“Because I’m looking for-”

“I know, but shouldn’t you at least be more careful?”

Before Wednesday could respond, a loud growl sounded in the distance, thumps getting closer and closer.

“Mierda,” Wednesday breathed out, taking you and Enid by the collar and dragging you behind the tree. “We need to get out of here, I think it can distinguish us, damn it, it’s your perfume Enid.”

You pull out a perfume bottle and spray it onto a piece of paper you had in your backpack. “Okay, I need you guys to carry me while I do this. It’s a little risky, but I’d rather do this than die.”

“I don’t think-” 

“Wednesday, let’s just do it,” Enid hisses as they both lift you up, Wednesday wrapping onto your torso as she sees the piece of paper fly away in your thoughts command.

Surprisingly, you were really light as Wednesday held you. And as the paper drifted farther and the Hyde chased after it, you suddenly grew exhausted. Where even were you again?

It was something you had struggled with, being able to withstand how far your abilities could go. And now that the item was far away and out of vision, your head began to pound and your eyes almost rolled back, like it was chasing the paper.

By the time the two girls carried you through the gates of Nevermore, your hand was twitching and you were close to looking lifeless.

“Y/N?” Wednesday shakes you, making you mumble the most incoherent noise she’s ever heard. “I think she’s tired out too much,” the girl says, carrying you inside her dorm. 

She placed you on the bed, but you were clinging onto her like a lifeline, your eyes fluttering in and out.

“Let go of me,” the goth says, and Enid sits by. Eventually, Wednesday is next to you, eyes pointed as she sighs. “Why did you do that? We could’ve made it out if you didn’t.”

Unfortunately, you were a little too tired to respond, shrugging in replacement. 

-

In the span of the next few days, Wednesday felt her feelings about you slightly shift. Was it in a good way? She didn’t know.

Mrs. Thornhill had moved seats, and of course, you were seated by her. 

At first, it had ticked her off, the way you looked curiously at the plants more so than the lesson.

Then she started noticing the way you looked intrigued in your notes, eyebrows knitted as you scribbled neat words on your notebook. 

“What are you writing?” Wednesday whispers, “She’s going over important information, Y/N.”

“The Declaration of Independence,” you say, smugly, before scratching your head as the girl gives you an unimpressed look. “She went through this yesterday, if I had a good pair of ears yesterday, then I won’t need them for this.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You turn to look at her as the bell rings for lunch. You stand up, walking to the doorway for lunch as she follows. “Why do you want to know?”

One of Wednesday’s eyebrows lifted, annoyed.

“Fine, I’m writing a letter to my older self.” You say, putting down your pen. “I like reflecting on how I’ve grown and I just talk about everything here, my favorite songs, people, things to do, goals I want to pursue by the next time I read it again, what I want to do in life, really anything.”

Your words weren’t what Wednesday thought they’d be as she blinks twice. She’s silent for a moment before she nods thoughtfully, “I see. That sounds.. Eventful. I didn’t think you’d be the writing type.”

You shrug, “Me neither.”

For once, you and Wednesday look at each other, a soft look on both of your faces.

Writing to your future self was stupid, she thought.

-

4/16

Dear Wednesday,

You attend Nevermore academy, you have been here for a year. And in that year, you have met many people, dare I say good ones for some? No. But you did meet some. I play the cello, I read. Is this boring enough? You met someone new. Her name is Y/N. She seems to beat you at everything, even the ones you thought you were good at. I feel almost annoyed, yet I can’t say much, considering the fact that she had tired herself out to save Enid and I. You like classical music, not Enid’s pop ear-bleeding ones. The less words, the better. As much as I love academics, I feel a sense of dread attending classes knowing I’ll be beaten. Where’s the fun in that?

6/24

Dear Wednesday,

You still like classical music, I must say nothing has changed. The case of the Hyde is still a mystery to be solved. Pugsley had visited, I’m thankful that little one has finally been aware how to fend up for himself, although I always do have a few tricks up my sleeve if he needs them. The month of the Poe Cup is arriving. The black cats had won last year, but merely because of our tricks. I’m almost shocked to say I’m excited, of course, not as close to watching horror movies. Of course not. I sometimes wonder if Y/N would join, would she be completely against it, then cave in like I once was? Or would she be the one to ask? Oh what could I be saying? I wonder if she would join the black cats at all. 

6/27

Dear Wednesday,

Y/N is on the black cats, I’m not excited. Though I do think she will carry the trophy for us all. I have faith in us three. 

7/2

Dear Wednesday,

We won the Poe Cup for the second time this year. She was the star of the show, she’s fast. We ask her to to poke a hole on a boat, she pokes 3 that even we didn’t see. We expect her to row her paddle fast, she somehow does, along with using 3 tree stumps. She’s a mystery to be solved. I’m carrying my mother's legacy, is this the start of a new streak?

10/5

Dear Wednesday,

The weather is growing colder, the seasons are changing and Jericho feels like a crisp breath of air. Y/N had written me poetry. But as the week progresses, she seems to be hiding a secret from me I can’t figure out It feels raw. Sincere. I’m learning the cello piece I overheard her talking about. Well, it’s not meant for the cello but we’ll make it work. She and Enid have been my company during nights when I’m searching for the Hyde. Nights where I’m alone, they fill the dark, and my sorrows have gone. Suddenly, the blank ideas for my novel have vanished. I just can’t figure out why. 

10/13

Dear Wednesday,

Today is my birthday. And I think I understand why I thought Y/N was hiding something from me. She had gotten me a gift. I’m not sure why it had made me smile in the moment but it did. She had crocheted me a black cat, I remember seeing a white one on her desk and I was so intrigued by it that I asked her what it was. Now I have one of my own. Maybe that’s why they call it happy birthday.

10/25

Dear Wednesday,

Y/N has been helpful with our search for the Hyde, I think I’m going to take her along with my searches at night so she can help me lure the creature. I’m getting one step closer everyday she tags along. Her and I search the forests of Jericho till 2 hours after midnight sometimes.

10/28

Dear Wednesday,

Something in my chest tells me that Y/N is growing more tired by the day. I’m starting to feel worried. I shouldn’t let her abilities get out of control, shouldn’t let her stay so late knowing that she’s probably 2 times more exhausted than I am. 

-

It was true, Wednesday had noticed that you began to feel drained out. 

At first, they were small things, not fully comprehending a conversation, a small yawn every half hour or so. 

But then Wednesday would see the bags under your eyes, your dozing off in class, missing out on Nevermore events. 

Yet you still came with her every Hyde search. You felt like wanted you to come so she could talk to you, and if it was, sleep was something you could push aside.

And before she knew it, you were at the wrong place at the wrong time when Wednesday was in her dorm, talking to Enid.

“She’s clearly tired, Weds, I think you should let her rest.”

“But I’m so close to finding-”

You peek through the door crack.

“She’s only tagging along on the searches because she wants to be with you,” Enid says, her voice assuming. “Don’t you think you should stay with her here for one night so she can recharge? I know you like being with-”

“Enid, your reasoning is incorrect.” Wednesday mumbles, trying to deny what Enid wanted to imply. “I’m solely focused on finding out who the Hyde is, and Y/N is the only person who can do that for me. She’s one of the only students in this school that can do it. I’m not taking her because of my preferences.”

But even Wednesday’s voice was unsure, because she felt that deep inside, there was something lodged inside of her that enjoyed your late night thoughts.

That wasn’t the case for you as you bit your lip as Wednesday went on. “I don’t see anything in her-”

Your heartbeat was erratic, anxious. You were so blinded by her that you couldn’t even tell she was using you. She didn’t even like you.

Before you could hear more, you slipped back into the shadows, silently promising yourself that you’d shut yourself from everybody tonight, from her. just like how you always would so you could be alone.

-

Wednesday knew something was up. The next few days went by in a haze. 

You would avoid her in the hallways, look at anywhere but at her during class, give her tight lipped; one response answers to her questions.

A day became a few, and Wednesday felt like she had done something wrong. She couldn’t help but realize how much she missed your stupid grin and the completely immersed look on your face whenever she was talking. 

You didn’t go out to help her search for the Hyde anymore. You didn’t know if she had even gone on her journeys.It seemed like most times when you weren’t in school, you were sleeping. But Wednesday never believed that was what it was.

Night approached, and soon enough, the raven haired girl pulled up her snood and crept out the gates of Nevermore. She had heard small pitter patters behind her as she kept her eyes straight forward. “You’re not coming, Thing. Not today.”

Thing makes a snap of protest, still following her and she stops in her tracks. “No, go. I don’t need your help, I can do this on my own.”

In the midst of the night, the Addams disappear into the deep ends of the forest, a sniffling Hyde not far behind.

-

“What the hell do you mean she went out alone? It’s like, the coldest of the month and she didn’t even bother to take somebody with her?” You stared Thing down, your voice hoarse from trying to whisper loudly.

You shouldn’t be worried, she could take care of herself. 

You just couldn’t get the stupid nagging feeling in your chest that something bad would happen. The same feeling that you felt in the afternoon that kept bothering you, the reason why you wanted to check up on her to find her gone.

“Well, Enid’s out with Yoko, and I don’t think anyone knows about Wednesday’s shenanigans except us.”

You walk out to the open balcony from Wednesday’s dormitory and look out. “What about we just go check on her? Not like I have anything to do anyway.”

Thing shakes his fingers incredulously. 

“You can tag along to make sure I’m okay,” you sigh out.

-

You were only wearing a sweater, minus the fact you were holding Wednesday’s jacket with you so you could give it to her when you saw her. You didn’t want to have her freeze to death.

“It’s a little creepier than I remembered,” you say to your little companion. “Darker, too.”

The rustle of leaves sound here and there, the air blowing right through your clothes as you shiver. You keep Thing closer, wrapping him in Wednesday’s hoodie.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmur, “you’re basically like any other naked hand and I’m making sure you don’t freeze either, I’ll be fine, got a tanktop under this.”

A very thin one.

The leaves rustling and skidding of footsteps grow closer, a heavy pant sounding in the distance. The breeze, you think.

You keep walking forward, “Wednesday?” The flashlight that you’re controlling, floating next to you skitters around each tree.

“Is it me, or do I not remember hearing other footsteps half the time we searched for the Hyde?” You joke, Thing now clinging onto you.

“Wait a fucking minute.”

The last time you heard footsteps that weren’t yours or Wednesday was when you had first seen the Hyde. 

You look down at the hand with a dawn of realization as the flashlight drops to the ground from your anxiety. And suddenly do you take account of the ground beneath you shaking as the Hyde approaches, its eyes tracking you in the dead of night.

Your wide eyes meet his as your feet take off.

No longer than 30 seconds later does a crying scream ring through the woods.

-

“What the hell do you mean she went out alone?” Wednesday yells, panicking, her heart going miles per minute as a worried Enid stands in the room awkwardly. Her hands trail through her cheeks, thinking, thinking. “I shouldn’t have gone out tonight, I should’ve known-”

Her snood was basically hanging off her shoulder as she tosses it to her bed and runs out to look through the balcony.

“Wednesday, let’s think this through, maybe she didn’t go into the forest-”

“Enid Sinclair, it’s 12:39 AM and you think Y/N and Thing would magically disappear to do something like go get a fucking sandwich?”

“I’m sure they’re okay, they’re together. And come on, you know that she’s been with you endless times before.”

“But she hasn’t came for like 2 weeks! I don’t even think I had gone out searching for the Hyde-”

“I think she’s still upset at you,”

“I know,” Wednesday says, sighing. She doesn’t know why you had gone out tonight, but she was worried.

After short moments of making quick decisions, Wednesday tugs Enid’s hand out of their dorm. “We need to go, I can’t lose her–them.”

..

It had been 10 minutes of searching and no sign of you or Thing. 

Gosh, where are you? 

Wednesday is frantically calling out your name, searching through each tree, her restlessness just growing more. Her eyes that were pointed straight around and ahead of her don’t take account of the flashlight. Her feet are just about to trip on till she actually feels herself tripping.

Her hands are filled with dead leaves as she squints in the pale moonlight, taking notice of a flashlight.

Your flashlight.

She holds it between her palms as she bites her tongue hard, forcing herself to move forward. 

After a few long moments, Wednesday’s wide eyes can be seen in the night as they meet your quivering body curled up against the leaves.

Wednesday doesn’t pay attention to Thing, who's laying atop of you and moving around frantically. She doesn’t pay attention to how badly you're shaking. She only notices how there’s a large gaping scratch tore against your chest that blood trickled out of.

“Why would you go out alone? It’s freezing,” Wednesday says, her voice higher than she could control, her vision messy.

Your hand comes to rest atop of your wound, “I could say the same for you,” you joke softly, but she isn’t rolling her eyes or showing any emotion. 

Instead, her lips are quivering and her eyes are searching all over you. You were wearing her jacket. She would’ve found it amusing, something that made her feel a little happy. But nothing.

“I just felt like I needed to know you were okay,” you say, your eyes drifting in and out. 

“I thought you were dead,” she choked out, picking you up as she realizes just how much blood you’ve lost. It was all over her hands. “Don’t do that ever again, I’m serious. Or else I’ll handle you myself.” The addams says incoherently, shaking the tears out as Enid and Thing follow close behind.

“Wednesday Addams actually cares,” you say, trying to crack another joke with a weak voice.

“Shut up,” Wednesday says, but her voice is raw, not stopping the tears that escape her eyes.  “Just shut up, it’s tiring you out and I can’t have you risking passing out.

She can’t shake the feeling that she’s losing you. 

After a few moments of silence, Wednesday looks back down at your closed eyes. “Wait, Y/N, I didn’t mean it, no please keep talking. You have to keep talking so you can’t go to sleep. Shit, please.” She turned corners, you were so cold. “If you die, I’m not digging a grave for you,” she rasped, trying to keep her demeanor, though it already had fallen.

She keeps shaking you until you make a confused noise, your blood all over her jacket.

Your eyes were half open as you gave her a half-smile. “You’re so bossy, Addams.” Your voice trails off, eyes hazy, not knowing where you were at this point anymore.

Wednesday clutches you closer to her, running past the gates of Nevermore.

-

The beeping of the monitor beside you served as the braided girl’s lifeline. Her hair was tousled, messed up, but there were more things important than her hair, anyway.

Wednesday turned away from it, looking at your resting face. 

“If you died, I would’ve dug a grave for you,” she said, her voice small. “I would’ve dug one and probably not even attend if it meant knowing that I had lost you. Probably would’ve sat next to it for days.”

You give her a silent breath, unconscious.

Thanks.

The next few days, Wednesday had read you her letters. 

“I feel like I should share them with you,” she said, not expecting a response as she flips through the pages. “You are the reason that I’ve started them.”

She reads the pages out loud to your sleeping form, like a night time story.

Her eyes trace each word she had written, ‘I don’t like people touching me. But Y/N makes me not so sure. Her hands are like a soft murmur of sweetness I’m not used to.’

‘She makes me realize how big of a heart somebody can have’

‘I learned a song for her’

‘I learned a poem for her’

‘I wrote a poem for her’

‘She’s like the sun, her personality. I don’t really know how much I need it until I come here all dead. Then she comes and it’s like everything is okay again.’

-

“You better heal faster,” Wednesday says impatiently, sitting next to you. “I said I was sorry almost thirty seven times, I just don’t like sounding stupid in front of other people, even as much as I want to.”

“I literally am dying,” you respond, her words cracking a smile on you nonetheless. You look at the black dahlias on your bedside.

Her hair was down, rolling her eyes. “Well you’ve wasted enough of my time.” She said, though she didn’t mean it. She’d take more days off so someone could look after you.”

“Oh, careful Addams,” you say, putting a hand up in front of you. “Someone might think you’re worried about me,” you whisper.

She takes your hands in hers–her hands are like a soft murmur of sweetness I’m not used to. “Well, I’m not. And if someone thinks that, you better make a piece of tape fly to their mouth,” she says, in denial as she turns away from you.

But you had already seen another side of her. The side that you knew always existed in her. The side that was vulnerable, the quiet weeps of worry when you were close to death, the letters that expressed her apologies.

“Well you already have one person,” you say, your little finger poking her chest. She huffs, but her lips twitch up, “I think you’re hallucinating, then.”

She was glad you were okay. Would she have been months ago? She didn’t know. Would she have crawled into your hospital bed and let you rest against her months ago? Maybe not. But she was now.

Somewhere between the blurred lines, Wednesday Addams had fallen for you.

-

author's note- this was meant to have a angst ending but unfortunately i didn't want people to be sad

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : stream hype

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary: based on this ask!!! just a lil blurb where yn gives hamzah and viewers a try on haul during a stream

mickey speaks: ok i did smthg different than the tiktoks for this one but i love writing these & im glad u love them too 😭💗 i need hamzah as my boyfriend like NOWWW

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

hamzah’s streaming in the corner of your shared bedroom when you get home from a day out with your girlfriends

he can hear you make your way through the house before you peek your head into the room with a smile, “hi, i’m home!”

he’s immediately grinning at the sight of you, “heyyy, look who’s back” and motions you to come closer with his hand

he’s not shocked at alllll when you have handfuls of shopping bags with you when you open the door fully

you place them on your bed with a large sigh before coming closer to greet hamzah

he remains seated as you hug; his face tucked into your lower stomach and loving arms wrapped around your hips as you play with the bits of hair peeking from his beanie

he whispers “i missed you” hoping the stream doesn’t catch it since he’s further away from the mic

they totally hear that shit and the chat is flooded with remarks about how cute the two of you are

he pulls away and looks up at you as you talk, “missed you more...do you need me to grab you anything? i’ll probably go watch something and give you a haul whenever you’re done here.”

“no, im good. i won't be on for too much longer”

"m'kay," you nod your head and make sure to greet the viewers before you exit, bending down so you’re in frame and showing off your lovely smile and energy (that hamzah admires in the monitor) “hiiii and byeeee!” you wave and blow a kiss. hamzah’s smile never fades as he watches you.

as soon as you’re gone hamzah reads over the chat, which is full of people begging for you to come back, “seriously??? am i not enough for you guys?”

after a while he gives in and pulls out his phone to call you, showing the camera his screen with your name and photo on it, before putting it on speaker for them to hear

“hi, are you okay?” your smooth voice comes through the scratchy phone audio

“yes, but the people are not. they want you to hang out in here” he smiles and bites his lip in anticipation of your response

“are you lying?”

his face screws up, “why would i lie??”

“well why’d you call instead of yelling for me?? im just in the other room,” you giggle

“because this is fun-er.”

“okay, im coming”

“YOURE WHAT?!”

you hang up and hamzah laughs

★

you have a chair pulled up next to hamzah as you both sit and interact with the chat for a bit

you tell them multiple stories about your shopping trip and he suggests you give everyone a haul

you waste no time getting up to grab your bags from the bed and bring them over to his set up

as you go through and unfold various tops, bottoms, and dresses he adds plenty of commentary and “lemme see”s while holding them in front of his face

“this thing is not gonna cover your ass, are we serious???” he holds up a mini skirt with a laugh

and you grab it from him with a playful shake of your head, “i was gonna wear it for my other boyfriend anyway”

hamzah just stares at you with a smirk until you look back over to him, “what?!” you giggle.

“don’t play with me, girl” he smiles and leans back in his chair, “go ahead and show them the rest”

when you get to a particular dress you just about squeal, “h, you’re gonna looovvveee this one! i almost sent you a pic in the dressing room it’s so perfect.”

“show me, show me!” his eyes are wide now and his mouth spreads into a grin.

you reveal a soft, coconut white dress with leafy ruffles tied into roses (me when my describing skills shut down bc what does this even mean bruh)

“oh wow…” he looks from your glowy face to the dress held beside you and back. “can i see it on you?”

you nod your head, “yeah i took pics at the store,” you go to grab your phone.

he kisses his teeth, “now why would i wanna see some pics when i have you right here??”

you look up at him from your phone and begin to laugh under your breath. you look over to the monitor and your face gives away the joke you’re thinking of, “uh huh, okay. look someone said ‘the sassy man apocalypse has gone too far’” you point to the screen

hamzah looks for a second and then adds to the joke himself, “oh em gee, they’re saying ‘girl go put on that damn dress we wanna see already, with the rolling eye emoji!!!’” he covers his mouth as if he’s shocked, “are you really gonna take that bae??”

you try not to laugh at the pet name he uses, “hamzah whyd someone just say ‘take that fuck ass beanie off your head before you speak on a bad bitch, lil boy’?” you act just as shocked as him, “they’re some haters for real…”

hamzah deadpans and gives a side eye to the camera

★

“okay you can look now” you tell him and he slowly uncovers his eyes.

he immediately pretends to faint at the sight of you in the material that hugs you so perfectly

“oh fuck, my heart- it’s giving out, everything hurts. i can’t- breathe-!” he gives out a breathy monologue and you laugh at him before moving further away from the camera to give the viewers a better view

you turn around and ask them what they think all while hanzah fakes his death nearby

you eventually find a spot across his lap and tap his cheek telling him to be normal

“my bad my bad, i need to lock in.” he exaggerates a shake of his head

“you like it though?”

“of course i like it, look at you!!!!” he points at the both of you in the monitor

“good, i think ill wear it when we go to curaçao”

“that’ll be perfect- can you get up and do another twirl for me please? i missed it”

you pout but when he squeezes your thigh you get up and does as he asks

“guys isn’t she the prettiest??” he gushes

you blush in the form of a large smile and bend down away from him to grab another item to show off, to which he jokingly makes various sexual gestures and faces at your ass that is left pointed towards him

when you turn back around hamzah pretends to adjust a watch, which is actually just him hovering awkwardly over his wrist

[binniesbooks]

heyyy! absolutely loved your 100 followers special fic like it was so insanely good!!!

please can i request a bsf!beomgyu fic where he discovers through porn that women can squirt and during your next hangout he asks you about it and when you tell him you can he gets all excited and asks you to show him. this then ends in him fucking you till you squirt on his dick multiple times. can you make both beomgyu and the reader a switch if you don’t mind and only if you’re comfortable tho :) the beomgyu brain rot is getting to me 😭

• IS IT TRUE?

BG 001 .F23 2024

wc 3.6k

pairings bestfriend!Beomgyu x fem!reader

warnings switch reader x switch Gyu, mutual pining, porn watching, caught self relieving, oral sex (m. receiving), slight flood play, kissing, marking, unprotected sex, pull out method, squirting, mentions of hair pulling and scratching if you squint (+ anything I've missed)

faye's note I tried my best to make a great plot, I really did! I hope it worked. To the anon who requested this one, I'm sorry it took me so long, I was procrastinating, LMAO. SORRY 😭

"Beomgyu-" The nasty moans and lewd sounds coming from the computer were abruptly stopped when Beomgyu slammed his laptop shut. 

"What the fuck were you watching?" Yeonjun's brows creased as he stared at the younger awkwardly sitting on the bed, a pillow on his lap and a blanket covering his lower half.

"W-what?" Beomgyu stammered. 

Yeonjun's grin grew wider as his eyes scanned the room. A laptop that was forced shut, a box of tissues, a sweaty body in this air-conditioned room—what else was a guy to do, if not pleasure himself when alone?

"Damn, it looks like I've caught you at a bad time!" Yeonjun exclaimed, a faint chuckle rumbling within his chest. His teasing voice and giggles made Beomgyu blush.

"Okay, okay, I'll just talk to you later, take care of yourself first," Yeonjun said, throwing a knowing look and a teasing smile.

"H-hyung, hyung wait!" Beomgyu tried to stop Yeonjun, but the door was already shut. Besides, he can't just get up naked, can he?

He throws his head back against the pillow, groaning in embarrassment as he runs his palm against his face, muttering a frustrated "fuck" under his breath.

"So..." you started. "Why are you here again?"

"Can't a friend visit you? God, you're not as welcoming as before," Beomgyu barked, rolling his eyes as he threw the plastic bag full of snacks on the table and plopped down on your couch. And when he removes the hood of his jacket, he reveals the mess that was his hair underneath.

"I mean, you can, yeah. But... Do you know what time it is?" you replied, pulling your jacket against your body.

"3 o'clock," he answered.

"3 o'clock in what?"

"3 o'clock in the morning! But whatever!" he grunts, throwing a temper tantrum on the couch.

"Why are you here then?" you asked, sitting beside him.

"Just wanna see you. It's been a while," he muttered under his breath.

"You know you can't just drop by anytime, right?"

"I know, I know. I've just had trouble sleeping at night these past few days again," he sighed, leaning his head back on the couch.

"Am I your sleeping pill or something?" your brows raised and your voice teasing.

"What if I say that you're my medicine?" Beomgyu looked you straight in the eye. And there you are, embraced by his warm gaze, trapped inside the pretty door to his soul.

You leaned closer to him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, running your fingers through his hair.

"Stay the night—or whatever you call the time now, I hope you have a good rest even if it's just for today." 

Beomgyu has been your friend since you were in your teenage years—typical. He shuts other girls off, as he only gives his attention to you. He doesn't want to be involved in any relationship of sort—that includes you, though. He may be your best friend, your best partner, but neither of you two admitted anything. Just two young hearts showing care and love towards each other. 

Some say you should date each other, which the two of you would only answer with a sheepish smile. Sometimes, he would drop by at your place, hang out with you, and enjoy the rest of his free time. You've been to his place a few times, but you insisted on him going to your place instead, since he's living with his friends. 

Often times, you'll share a kiss or two with him—anything but a kiss on the lips. He loves it when you sit on his lap while he plays at your computer, giving your shoulder a few bites and planting soft kisses. He loves cuddling you to sleep, draping his arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, his warm breath fanning across your nape. 

Beomgyu could walk around your house half naked without you giving a fuck. He does anything as if it were his own home, and you don't mind at all. You're used to it, nothing new. 

Everything about this is pretty normal between the two of you. The kisses, the skinship, the hugs, the cuddles—anything that a 'just friends' friend won't normally do. Well, in your case, it was. 

"Can you come closer? I need to feel your warmth," Beomgyu pleaded, unzipping his jacket.

"Gyu, how much closer do you need me to be? Should I just sew my skin onto yours?" you chuckled as you shifted on the bed, scooting closer to him.

"I missed you. I missed holding you in my arms." he mumbles as he hugs you tight. 

"You're such a baby, Gyu. Do you know that?" you complained, burying your face in his chest, hugging him closer.

A few minutes had passed, yet Beomgyu was still awake. Busying himself with combing his fingers through your hair as he watches you peacefully sleep. 

His fingers traced the outline of your face. "I love you. I hope you know that," he whispered, planting a kiss to the top of your head before he shuts his eyes.

You woke up with heavy limbs draped upon your body. Beomgyu may have mistaken you for a pillow.

"Gyu... Gyu, you're so heavy, move over." Your voice cracked as you gasped for air.

"Gyu, what the hell, scoot over," you grunt again, trying to push him, but his body is far too big for you to push on your own.

"Choi Beomgyu!" You shouted.

Beomgyu squirmed. And instead of getting himself off of you, he pulled you even closer.

"What's your deal?" You frowned, trying to push him away.

Beomgyu grunts as he hides in your neck, rolling over, causing the two of you to crash down onto the floor. 

But instead of getting angry at him, your frown turned into a fit of laughter as you saw him wince and massage the back of his head and his buttocks.

"Did you have a good sleep?" you asked, stirring a cup of coffee.

"Mhm, I did, thank you. I'll get going now, the boys might already be looking for me," Beomgyu said as he pulled you in for a hug.

"You're not gonna eat breakfast here?"

His tall figure towers over you as he pinches your cheeks, "I'll do it next time. Let's have breakfast together next time, okay? Eat the snacks I brought earlier and take care of yourself." You watched him step out, closing the door behind him. 

It hadn't even been a whole 24 hours when he came back to your place.

"I wanna watch a movie; the guys are boring to be with!" he frowns, feigning frustration--- He actually never asked them to do so. Just a reason for him to drop by your place again.

"Bring the ice cream from the freezer, then," you said as you prepared the couch, bringing some soft pillows and a fuzzy blanket. 

You actually have no idea what the movie was all about. You even missed the title because you went to the restroom last minute. The only thing you know is that it's a 18+ rated movie. Well, it's not your first time watching something like this with Beomgyu, you've watched multiple movies that aren't child friendly. 

Plus, the fact that the two of you could even talk about anything sexual as if you're just talking about food and any other light topics makes this normal. Although sexually wise, neither one of you has experience. Considering that you both shut people away as if your world only revolves around each other.

And although this isn't the first time you're watching something like this with Beomgyu, it is the first time you saw him shove a pillow over his lap. It is the first time he's trying his best to avoid any skin contact with you. 

"Is everything okay? You're so distant," you commented, licking a spoonful of ice cream.

"Actually... There's.. there's something I want to ask," he started, turning his body to face you.

"That is?"

"That.. I.. Uhm, I just watched this from... You know..."

"Porn?" you bluntly answered.

"Y-yeah. And uh, is it true?"

"What's true? Geez, say it straight, Gyu," you rolled your eyes as you dug another spoonful of ice cream.

"Let me finish my sentence!" he pouts, making you chuckle. Beomgyu wasn't normally nervous around you, this is the first time.

"Is is true.. that.. girls can.. uhm.. the liquid... Like.." he continued stammering.

You looked at him straight in the eye and said, "That girls squirt?" Beomgyu nodded frantically as he tried to avert his gaze.

"It's more common than you think, Gyu," you answered as you returned your gaze to the movie. However, you're shocked about what's already happening on the TV. It was a fucking sex scene! Obscene sounds are coming from the speakers resonating in your living room. You gulped and shifted nervously.

"S-so you mean, you can do it?" Beomgyu dug his fingers into the pillow, his face painted with embarrassment and anticipation at the same time.

"Well..."

"Can you show it to me?" he said, cutting you off.

"W-what?" You looked at him in surprise. Why would a friend ask something like that?

"I.. I mean. I mean... Like..." he tried finding an appropriate approach.

"Are you initiating something, Choi Beomgyu?" You turned your whole body towards him. He bit his lower lip, his adams apple bobbed up and down as he gulped, swallowing the same embarrassment and sexual frustration.

"If... If you want to... I... I wanna see it.. I wanna see you," he whispered, his lips already red and swollen from how hard he was biting them. 

You weighed the pros and cons in your mind first. But, yeah, who cares? You're attracted to him anyway! It's a win-win situation, right?

"I swear, if you tell a single soul about this," you warned before straddling him, grabbing his shirt, and crashing your lips on his.

He forcefully pulled the pillow from his lap away, causing you to stumble a little, desperate to feel you even in the tiniest bit. His hands landed on your waist, trying to push you down on his lap.

You pulled away, "Stop. Hands off."

He stared at you with big puppy eyes and a pout, "Y/n," he whines. 

"Keep your hands off me if you want to know if it's true." Beomgyu placed his hand on his side. Trying his best not to touch you, gripping the fuzzy blanket instead, veins popping on his neck as he threw his head back. What a good day to wear sweats, he could fully feel you, and you could fully feel him hardening each second. 

Beomgyu used to order you around. He's a bit bitchy and bossy. Yet he's being pliant today. So you were enjoying this, watching him crumble under you, doing anything you were saying.

You moved your hips again, making him emit a desperate moan. Calling your name like the sex-deprived man he is, "P-please... Please it hurts..." he whines again, tears threatening to spill, nails almost tearing your blanket apart. Yet you grind again, teasing him some more. "If you cum too early, you'll end up not knowing whether it's true," you taunt. So he bucks his hips up, along with loud moans and whimpers, drowning the long forgotten movie in the background, too desperate and stimulated.

"M-more..." he whispered under his breath, almost unheard if you didn't pay attention, not wanting to get ahead of himself. 

You stopped your movement, making him groan and gasp. But blush crept up his pretty face when you moved down between his legs, spreading them open, kissing the tent on his sweats. He drapes his arm on his face as he throws his head back. He didn't know this would happen. He only asked if you could show him how you squirt, but he didn't expect for you to give him more.

"Y/n," he muttered, his hand muffling his mouth, "I-if you don't f-feel like it, you d-don't have to do this...."

"You don't want this, Gyu?" He looked down at you, only to throw his head back again when he saw you pouting with big round eyes. 

"Fuck..." He sighed, "Can I at least hold your head?"

And you let him. You let him tangle his fingers on your hair, but he's not allowed to push you down. You let him grip on your hair, but he's not allowed to pull you back.

As you pulled his sweats down, he tried his best to look at you. But he would end up closing his eyes because he can't look at you straight in the eye. 

"I won't give you a head if you don't look at me," you giggled, making him whine for the nth time.

And so he tried his best to maintain eye contact. Even when he's struggling to keep his eyes open because it feels too good. Even when he could only gasp because you're doing your best to take him whole in your mouth. He heard you gag over and over, yet he can only tangle his fingers in your hair gripping it. He wants to push you down, to fuck your pretty little mouth, to cum already, but he's waiting for your signal. He wants to be a good boy for you. He wants to be good. He wants you to praise him. He wants you to shower him with kisses later on because he was obliging to your commands.

And an idea came to your mind. You scooped out some of the melted ice cream and let it drip on his fully erect and wet cock. Beomgyu whimpers at the cold sensation.

"T-that's... Ahhh..." His voice was too shaky as he tried to form a sentence. Which he wasn't very successful in doing.

You carefully licked the melted ice cream, pushing your tongue on his slit.

"Y/n, c-can I cum? It.. ahh.. it hurts s-so much, p-please," he pleaded, drool rolling down from the corner of his lips, crying.

"Since you're too pretty, sure," you smiled sweetly, full of innocence. He lets go of your hair, placing them down on the couch, clutching on the blanket again. With one thrust in your mouth, he came undone, shooting spurts of sticky white cum inside your mouth. 

Beomgyu tried catching his breath as he looked down at you. He reached for your face, pressing on each side to make you open it. He watched your tongue swirl around the pool of his cum. Beomgyu pressed his thumb on your tongue, playing with his cum. "Swallow."

With a single command, you quickly obliged, swallowing the mix of sweet and salty taste from his cum and the ice cream. This time you felt so little under him as you sat on the floor between his legs. You opened your mouth for him to check. "Good girl," he smiled as he pulled you up, making you straddle him again.

"Did you enjoy your time ordering me around, baby?" He asked, tucking your hair behind your ear. You smiled at him, nodding with a wide grin.

His hand ran lower to your chest, touching your breast, causing you to bite your lower lip. 

"Tell me, why aren't you wearing a bra, hm?" He stared at you straight in the eye, raising his eyebrow, looking for a proper answer.

"I didn't know you were gonna drop by again," you pout.

"I see," he said, pinching your nipple.

"G-gyu..." you whimpered.

"Hm?" You looked away, clutching at the hem of your shirt. 

Beomgyu rolls your nipples against his finger again, making you quiver.

"G-gyu!" You moaned, holding his wrist. 

"What is it? Are you lost?" he chuckled, pulling your nipple.

"Ahh! Shit! Mhhmp!" you collapsed above him, hiding in his neck, whimpering and whining over and over again. You heard him let out a hearty chuckle again before wrapping his arms around your waist. 

"Too much?" he asked, and you nodded as an answer. "Okay, okay, I won't do it again, remove your pajama," he whispered.

You get off of him to discard your silk pajama, before repositioning yourself on top of him again. He kissed your forehead and played a little with the band of your panties.

Aligning his tip on your clothed pussy, he tried thrusting, teasing you, and smirking at how you squirm and pout at the stimulation.

Yet when he pushed your panties to the side, he saw the sticky wetness on the cloth from your hole. "So you're ordering me around while you're being wet like this, am I right?" he grinned.

He started teasing your pussy, pushing his red tip and letting it slide away. "Aww, too bad, I think it won't fit," he pouts, still teasing you. You whined back, wanting to feel him bare.

He teased you more and more. Until you couldn't take it anymore as you rose to your knees and aligned him against your hole, forcing your way down. You ended up collapsing in his arms again. Not prepared at all as you felt a burning pain from the stretch of his fat cock.

"God fucking damn it, don't do that again, you'll end up hurting yourself," Beomgyu winces as he tries to soothe you by combing your hair and kissing your face.

"No matter how desperate you want to feel me, don't do that again, okay? I haven't even properly stretched you out yet," he whispered, rubbing your back.

"Come here," he pulled your face to give you a kiss. A kiss that washed the pain away. Tongues fighting, teeth clashing, saliva mixing. It was nasty, lewd, and filthy. Yet you love it, moaning at the feeling. Especially when Beomgyu started to thrust his hips up, slowly training you with his size. 

His lips traveled down to your neck, leaving splotchy red marks and wet open-mouthed kisses in his wake. His hand fully grasped your breasts, slowly massaging them, occasionally rolling your nipples beneath his fingers, enjoying the way you moan his name in his ear as you catch your breath. 

Then he pulled away, holding your waist as he started his precise and delicious thrusts. 

"Deep?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with a grin. You nodded, both of your hands on his chest to keep your balance.

"How deep?" he smirked.

"H-here," you managed, pulling his hand and letting him press on your abdomen. You whimpered when he pressed harder, making you feel every curve and vein of his cock.

"Will you show me how you squirt? How did you find out you can?" he bombed you with questions, still maintaining his pace in thrusting inside your gummy walls.

"W-will show you G-gyu, will do... I ..ahh.. f-found out... One time when I t-touched myself," you started. "W-when you c-called me.. mmmph! W-with your morning voi....voice."

"You're touching yourself to my voice? Fuck, how desperate are you?" he scoffed, thrusting harder.

"W-wait! Ahh! Too m-much! Gyu!" You hid on his neck again, feeling so little and inferior. 

"I-it was only one time! I.. I never did it again!" You managed to squeak out, voice muffled on his neck.

"Then let's make you squirt again, yeah?" he sneered, pulling you back by your hair as you groan at the pleasuring pain spreading through your scalp.

He lifted you up for a bit, and he started fucking your hole with a faster and rougher pace. "Squirt on my cock, squirt on my cock." He kept on repeating it over gritted teeth, adding force to every thrust.

"G-gyu, w-wait, I'm gonna cum--" Clear liquid came out gushing from your hole, pushing his cock out along with your creamy cum, soiling your couch.

"Fuck.. do it again!" His grin grew wider as he lifted you up again and thrusted even harder with greater force.

"Gyu! Gyu! Beomgyu!" You chanted his name over and over again, your toes curled and your stomach twisted at the overstimulation. Yet he kept on fucking into you.

And again, you let out a gush of clear liquid. Whole body spasming above Beomgyu. His cock twitches as he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. 

"T-this is dirty G-gyu," you muttered below your breath, body spent as you found support from his shoulder.

"No. I like it. This is fucking hot. Makes me wanna fuck you more," he laughs.

You eyes flicker across the room. The couch, the blanket, and the pillows were wet. The chocolate-flavored ice cream smeared on his pants.

Beomgyu slowly slides himself inside you again, thrusting more precisely, wanting to cum inside you this time. He buried his face in your neck as he pushed your hips down. 

"F-fuck! Wanna fill you up!" 

"P-pull out, Gyu! Please!" you pleaded, clawing his back.

Beomgyu pulls out. Hissing through his teeth, he pumped his cock a few times and ended up cumming on your tummy. 

"Fuck," he pants, leaning back on the couch and pulling you to his chest. 

You heard how his heart thumped so hard and how his breathing was so ragged. You buried your face in his neck, allowing your heart to calm down. And realization settled in. You just had sex with your best friend.

"If you won't still ask me to date you after today, I'll ask Kai out, I know he likes me." You muttered, feigning nonchalance.

"What the fuck? Do you want me to tell them how good I made you feel?" he taunts, tangling his fingers in your hair as he gives it a little pull, making you moan.

"See? Only I am allowed to see you like this, to make you so spent like this, understood?" he frowns.

"Only if you date me," you said as you latched your lips on his neck, leaving a mark of ownership.

"Fuck," he scoffed, touching the part where you left a mark when you pulled away. 

@binniesbooks 2024

[sxcretricciardo]

you broke me first - L.N - pt. 2

part 1

•

It had been a month since the night of the concert—the night Lando showed up unannounced and left you reeling with his apology. You hadn’t spoken to him since, not because you didn’t want to, but because you were scared. Scared that letting him back in would undo all the progress you’d made.

But he hadn’t disappeared.

Lando found ways to show you he meant what he’d said. A bouquet of your favorite flowers arrived on your doorstep one morning, with a simple note attached:

“I’m sorry. I’m here when you’re ready. – Lando”

When you traveled to Paris for the next leg of your tour, a small care package arrived at your hotel: your favorite snacks, a candle that smelled like home, and a handwritten letter.

“I know I hurt you, and I’ll spend every day proving I’m not that man anymore. Take all the time you need.”

It was little things like this—unobtrusive, thoughtful gestures—that made you start to believe he might be serious.

One quiet evening after a show in Amsterdam, you found yourself staring at his name in your contacts. Your finger hovered over the call button for what felt like hours. Finally, with a deep breath, you pressed it.

He answered on the second ring.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, almost hesitant.

“Hi,” you said, your heart pounding so hard you thought he might hear it over the phone.

There was a pause on the other end—long enough to make you second-guess calling at all. Then, his voice came through, breathless and relieved.

“I didn’t think you’d call,” Lando said softly.

“I didn’t think I would either,” you admitted, sitting on the edge of the hotel bed. “But… you’ve been showing up in ways I didn’t expect. And it’s made me wonder.”

“Wonder?” he repeated cautiously.

You ran a hand through your hair, staring out the window at the glowing lights of Amsterdam. “If you really mean it. If this isn’t just… another mistake.”

“Y/N, I swear to you,” Lando said quickly, his tone desperate but steady. “This isn’t a game for me. Not anymore. I’m not that guy who stood in front of you and let you walk away. I know I screwed up, and I hate myself for it every single day.”

You swallowed hard, the ache in your chest familiar but different this time—less sharp, more bittersweet. “It’s not easy for me to believe you, Lando. I need you to know that.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I don’t expect you to just forgive me overnight. I just… I just want the chance to show you. To earn back the trust I threw away.”

His sincerity cracked something in you, and for the first time in months, you let your guard drop, just a little.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Maybe we can talk. Start with that.”

The relief in his voice was palpable. “I’d love that. Anytime, anywhere—just say the word.”

“Not anytime,” you teased softly. “I still have a tour to finish, you know.”

Lando chuckled lightly, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you. “Right. You’re busy being the rockstar I fell in love with.”

Your breath hitched at his words, but you let it slide, pretending they didn’t affect you the way they did. “Goodnight, Lando.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice.

When you hung up, you felt lighter—hopeful, even. It was small, but it was a start.

The first time you saw him again was two weeks later, during a rare break in your tour. You had agreed to meet at a small café in London, far from the prying eyes of the public. It felt strange, seeing him sitting there, his hair slightly messy under a cap, a nervous smile on his face when he spotted you.

“Hey,” he said softly, standing up as you approached.

“Hi,” you replied, shifting awkwardly as you slid into the chair across from him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It was as if you were both figuring out how to exist in each other’s presence again.

“You look good,” Lando finally said, his voice gentle. “Really good.”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Tour life has kept me busy. I think I’ve forgotten what sleep feels like.”

He chuckled, but then his expression grew more serious. “I listened to your album, you know.”

Your smile faltered. “Oh.”

“It broke me,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “Hearing those songs… knowing I caused that much pain. I sat there for hours just… listening. And crying.”

You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. “It wasn’t easy to write, either,” you admitted. “But I had to get it out somehow. Music was the only thing that kept me from falling apart.”

“I’m glad you had that,” he said. “But I wish I’d been the person you could lean on instead of the one who hurt you.”

You looked down at your coffee, stirring it absently. “Why did you do it, Lando? Why did you let me walk away that night?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because I was scared,” he said honestly. “I thought if I let myself feel how much I loved you, I’d ruin it. I didn’t think I was good enough for you, Y/N. And instead of facing that, I pushed you away.”

You stared at him, your heart aching at the rawness in his voice. “And now?”

“Now?” He looked you straight in the eye, determination etched across his face. “I know what I want. I want you. I want us. I don’t care how long it takes or how hard I have to work—I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not that guy anymore.”

The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave, and for the first time, you let yourself believe he might really mean it.

“Okay,” you said softly. “One step at a time, Lando. That’s all I can promise.”

He nodded, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Over the next few months, Lando kept his word. He didn’t push you or demand more than you were ready to give. Instead, he showed up—consistently, quietly, and with unwavering patience.

He sent you texts after every show:

“You were incredible tonight. I’m so proud of you.”

Sometimes, he’d surprise you by showing up in the audience, sitting quietly at the back, cheering you on without fanfare.

When you had a break in your schedule, he invited you to his place for casual dinners—no pressure, no expectations. Just the two of you catching up like old times, laughing over silly stories and reconnecting in ways that felt real and easy.

One night, as you sat on his couch watching a movie, you caught him looking at you.

“What?” you asked, smiling softly.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I just… I missed this. I missed you.”

You didn’t respond right away, but instead rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap around you.

“I missed this too,” you whispered.

It wasn’t until the final night of your tour—another sold-out show in London—that you realized how far you’d come. Lando was there, as he always was now, standing off to the side of the stage, his eyes never leaving you.

When you sang You Broke Me First, your voice steady and strong, you glanced at him briefly. This time, there were no tears—just a quiet understanding between you.

After the show, he found you backstage, grinning like a little kid.

“You were unbelievable,” he said, pulling you into a hug.

“Thank you,” you replied, your arms wrapping around him tightly.

When you pulled back, he looked at you with a seriousness that made your heart race. “Y/N… I know I don’t deserve it, but I love you. I love you so much it scares me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with emotion. “You’ve already started proving it, Lando. And I think… I think I’m ready to try again.”

His face lit up with a smile so genuine it nearly took your breath away. “You mean it?”

“I mean it,” you said softly, cupping his face in your hands. “But no more mistakes. No more running.”

“Never again,” he promised, leaning in to kiss you—soft, slow, and full of everything you’d both been holding onto for so long.

And in that moment, you knew: this was your new beginning.

[hereforthehitsbaby]

prompt 16 with Logan on the fluff list! thinking that their messing around and reader accidentally confesses and it’s a toooootal love bomb after that

Confession | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2.7k…did I get carried away? Yes.

Author’s Note: Okay but why am I sobbing at my own writing? This request was so cute, thank you for this nonie!

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Wade when I said we should watch The Wizard of Oz, I didn’t mean that you need to dress up as Dorothy and act out the entire movie!” You exclaimed in the living room, trying your hardest to suppress a laugh as Wade twirls in front of the couch. The blue and white checkered dress swirled in the air as he spun, arms wide out as he threw his head back. In the background, droning on was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” to which Wade decided it was the perfect time to lip sync. Days like this are what you cherished most, especially when things were a bit shit all around. The world wasn’t as safe as it used to be, but in this little apartment – it was comfort. Solace, everything you all needed to wait out the storm down below.

“You may not have wanted that, but they did.” Wade lets out nonchalantly, whispering the last part at the brick wall, causing you to look around him. Every so often he would stare off into a hidden camera, like it was The Office, speaking to the “audience” about what was going on. At first it was funny, charming even – but when it got to be quips about you, it was almost instinctive how you needed to roll your eyes. Now? It was just another thing about Wade you admired, how he could keep himself entertained like this and forget how things were outside, there was no judgement but pure love and laughter. Shaking your head with a smile, you sigh out as you stand from the couch, stretching your back. “Whatever you say, Wade.” As you felt your tailbone crack, you smiled softly at the release. It felt nice to get up and walk, to stretch out a bit before engaging more with Wade’s antics of today. It was endearing to see him doing this – you knew everything was getting to him as well, and you both needed a good laugh. What you silently hoped for though, was for Logan to join the two of you.

It was obvious your feelings for him, Wade called that out the second you both first met. The way your eyes went from thin slits of weariness to full blown hearts was enough to make his head spin – Logan on the other hand seemed to have no effect. But that’s what he wanted you to think. It had been months since your apartment flooded, causing you to move two floors up with Wade, Logan, Laura and Al. But it had been the best months of your life, creating new friendships and hoping to blossom out of the awkward phase with Logan. A stoic, quiet man who truly needed this – needed a friend – needed to know he was loved. You wanted to help him with that, if only you could get over this little hump of self-doubt. It was a silent battle you faced internally; Rejection scared you and hurt more than anything else – but you’d respect the decision if it happened. The struggle was the worst part of it, how it ate you alive. Wade would always try to help quell it but alas, your mind could be very fickle.

As you made your way into the kitchen, you rounded the counter, back facing towards the living room as you hummed along with the song. Lost in your own little world, you didn’t notice when the bedroom door to the left started to slowly open, your head down to face the coffee maker as you stuck your mug underneath, using the hot water for your tea. It wasn’t until you saw something sparkling out of the corner of your eye that it caught your attention. You knew Mary Puppins had a flashy little get up, since Wade spent four days bedazzling her suit, but then you remembered Laura had taken her out for a walk a few minutes prior. Cocking your brow, you turn slowly to see what that shine is – not expecting to see what you did. “Holy shit,” you mumble out, your eyes shooting wide open. There was no proper way to react except shocked, your body freezing at the sight.

Logan was home after all, hiding away in his room. But what you didn’t realize was that Wade had gotten him to dress up for the movie. Standing there in his gray and black flannel, gray sweatpants, and white socks was your Logan – face covered in silver face paint, sparkling against the orange hued lighting of the kitchen. You stopped to stare at him, admiration making your heart grow as Wade let out a dramatic gasp, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. “Robocop has arrived!” Wade cheered, hoping over the back of the couch and standing on the opposite side of the kitchen. At the comment, Logan growled in Wade’s direction, sending him straight daggers. “Don’t give me that look, Pookie. You know what you signed up for.”

Logan could help but groan as his gaze shifted back towards you; The silvery color making his eyes glow brighter than usual. A soft green, like a meadow on a cloudy day always stared back at you. But today, it was Emerald City. The glints of golden flecks and little silvery tendrils drifted through his irises, causing your heart to race. You didn’t mean to gaze so deeply into his eyes, finding your own eyes losing focus the further you delved in. You couldn’t tell but Logan’s heart was racing a mile a minute under his shirt, his claws quivering inside his hand. “You’re taking shine bright like a diamond to a whole new level, Lo.” You let a bright smile cascade over your lips as you looked up at him, tilting your head to the side to admire his application skills. Under all the silver you could see a gentle pink blush creeping up his neck, fanning over the little exposed patch of skin beneath his flannel. It wasn’t everyday that Logan blushed – but with you, he couldn’t stop. Even at your teasing, he was a mess.

“His idea.” Logan snickered as he pointed to Wade. “Dipshit told me we were all dressing up as characters.” Of course he did, because that is just how Wade is. He always says one thing, then never tells anyone else. In a way you knew he said it for you, knowing this was your favorite movie and all. To have Logan dress up like the tinman was all for you. A simple admission you made not too long ago about how he was your childhood crush; Convincing Logan to dress up as him only seemed right. Wade could tell you both were mutually pining over one another, and he was tired of the will they won’t they. All he knew was that he wanted his two best friends to be together, to be happy; He knew you’d be good for one another. Wade blew Logan a kiss as he spun in his dress, twirling his way through the kitchen and living room.

“Wade you dirty dog.” You laugh as you roll your eyes, shifting your focus back to your now freshly brewed tea. Taking the mug away from the coffee machine, you bit your bottom lip as you giggled, nudging Logan with your shoulder. “When we need a disco ball for Al’s 70th birthday, we will just strap you to the ceiling and spin you.” You winked in his direction as you slightly raised a brow, indicating that you were joking, but also being a tease. Logan liked when you did that, finding it invigorating how his heart would pound out of his chest. A hearty, sincere laugh slipped from his silvery lips as he narrowed his gaze. Leaning against the countertop, Logan crossed his arms over his eyes, his lips turning up into a challenging smirk. “Oh yeah? You think so, beautiful?” He let out without question, tilting his head to the side as he eyed you up and down. He could hear, smell, how hard your heart was racing as he leaned closer, how your palms grew clammy, how your body shivered under his gaze. There was something so primal clawing its way beneath his skin; He wanted all of you, to be the only one to make you feel this way. “I know so!” You shot back without hesitation, trying to keep your cool.

Logan thought it was cute, how hard you were trying to fight yourself off. Trying so hard not to spill the beans or say what was on your mind. It was a game of hardball, and Logan was going to come out on top like always. Huffing with amusement, he placed his hand softly on your shoulder, letting his wade palm graze down your arm, fingers drifting over the expanse of your wrist. Leaning closer to you, only a hairsbreadth away, Logan whispered as he held your hand lovingly. “Well what if I…”  You were so entranced with how he was coming onto you, months of tension finally reaching its peak as the knife cut through it, releasing that hold on you. Closing your eyes as you prepped yourself for what he was about to do next, you pursed your lips instinctively, waiting to feel him on you. Alas, that never came.

In a singular second, Logan roughly pulled you close to him as he rubbed his face all over yours. The burn of his beard across your cheeks made you yelp out, the slippery feel of the face paint flowing over your skin made you laugh. A fit of giggles and playful pushing ignited the room, filtering out the sound of Mary Puppins and Laura coming back from their walk. You couldn’t breathe from how hard you were laughing, trying to muster up the energy to speak as Logan held you close to him. Though you felt his touch burning through your clothes, not one of a friendly nature but one of pure passion. The way he gripped your hip with one hand, and the side of your neck with the other. The way his face slid over yours, it was pure love. Your mind was reeling with endless thoughts of what it would be like to be in love with Logan, never realizing how you spoke aloud. “Ohmygod, I’m in love with an adult man-child.” The words fell out before you had anytime to think about it, not realizing what you had said as you fought yourself through the giggle fit. You didn’t realize what had come out, until Logan stopped.

The tension in the air was palpable, your heart pounding in your ears as you caught your breath. Logan stopped the ministrations on your face, his grip to your neck and hip growing harder, steadier as his breathing picked up. “In love!?” Wade and Laura yelled out from the living room, Mary Puppins gave a little bark as well. In that moment you stopped, your eyes growing wide as you panned upwards. “In love?” Logan asks, his eyes turning from a vibrant green shade to mocha, his pupils blackened. Meeting his gaze, you swallowed back the words I’m kidding, because in reality you were not. It was out there now, there was no taking it back even if you had tried. There wasn’t anything that would make this moment easier to digest, it was all or nothing. “Shit.” That was your only response. The movie in the background grew quiet. Laura, Wade, and Mary Puppins stared at you with wide eyes, trying to process it themselves. Al on the other hand sat by the open window and laughed, keeping his head towards the street below.

All you wanted to do was run; Fight or flight kicking in made you want to scream. It wasn’t the way you announced it that made you scared, nor nervous – but how Logan was staring at you. His once playful demeanor was now clouded with something unreadable, enough to make tears well in your eyes. At the end of the day, if he didn’t feel the same there were no hard feelings, and you both could live with that. But right now, you wanted to be alone, to calm down from the panic rising in your chest. “No, no running away.” Logan whispered for you, and you only. His hardened grip on your neck moved to gently hold your face, his thumb sweeping against your cheek. He could see the fear in your eyes, the unknowing – he wanted to settle that for you. Logan leaned forth to press his forehead against yours. The switch of Logan gave you whiplash; Usually he wasn’t this affectionate with his actions, always keeping to himself, not thinking himself worthy of love. But today, that all changed. “Sweetheart…do you mean that?” Logan’s voice broke slightly as he asked, his own eyes welling with tears.

“Of course she does! She’s in lov-“ Wade began, not even giving you a second to explain yourself. Logan grew tense at hearing him speak. He never pushed his face away from yours as he growled out into the room. “Shut the fuck up!” A shiver ran down your spine at the dominance in his voice, your hands instinctively going out to hold onto his hip as you steadied your breathing. “Ohhh my god,” was all Wade could respond with as he sunk back into the couch, Laura holding her hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t say anything more. It was now or never; Forever hold your peace or tell Logan how you really felt and see where it led from there. Taking a deep breath, you nodded against Logan’s forehead, a shaky breath exhaling from your parted lips. “I do.” The words felt right coming out, there was no line of awkwardness or reluctance to them. It was the truth, and now it was known.

You refused to open your eyes as stare at Logan, hearing the deep inhalation he made at your comment. You knew if you opened your eyes tears would fall, and you were not about to have that. Nothing came to mind on what you could say, nor could you move from where you were planted. Internally you begged someone to say something, to break the silence. Logan must’ve heard your internal thoughts. “Finally, didn’t know how long we were going to play that game, sweetheart.” Logan let out, causing you to open your eyes. He extended himself to his full height as he held your face, peering down into your soul with a genuine, loving smile. It was in that moment his words fully clicked inside of your brain, the mutual pining was over. “I’ve been in love with you since day one. I could tell you were too, but I didn’t want to come on too strong, if you weren’t ready. I wanted it to be on your terms, when you felt it was right.” Logan’s word held you tightly, holding you close to show you just how loved you are, how cherished you are, how appreciated you are. You could tell Logan had more he wanted to say but, actions speak louder than words.

Surging forth, you pressed your lips lovingly against Logan, feeling how the world faded around you. The dull, orange lighting of the kitchen burnt out around you. The hum of the coffee maker, fridge, and lights became silent. The only thing that could be heart was your heartbeats, merging into one. Around you swirled endless love and possibilities, flecks of the brightest yellows and blues flowing out like clockwork, binding you two together. This feels so right. Everything felt so right. Logan felt so right. Nothing in life ever felt like this, nothing ever felt meant to be. Only now did you realize, the love you have been waiting your entire life for, finally arrived. In the form of Logan Howlett, The Wolverine. Your hero.

-----

Hugh Jackman Taglist: @anamiad00msday @coowayeoo

Logan Howlett Taglist: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444

[jiarkives]

livestream

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you ask your boyfriend to watch your followers.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — bucky barnes (marvel)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — rushed ending WEEWOOWEEWOO also, this is based on @loveisallyouneed1125’s idea, i just added a ~little~ twist to it. i hope this is to your liking, bestie! 🤍

~

Occasionally, you would do a cooking and baking livestream where you would teach your followers how to cook certain dishes or bake, while you talk to them about other stuff. Your teammates would sometimes pop in and talk for a few minutes before leaving you to your thing once more.

Today, however, you had decided to let Bucky join you since your followers have been asking you for more boyfriend content with Bucky.

So you quickly set up your phone on the kitchen counter, making sure to leave enough space for you to work while also being in the camera’s view, then you went live.

You and Bucky waited for your followers to flood in, greeting some of them as they left comments and greetings. Although most of them were just smashing their keyboards and emojis, you still did your best to greet them.

After a few minutes, you got started on your baking with Bucky helping. You had mutually decided on baking chocolate chip cookies, finding it the easiest to bake together. Throughout the process, you occasionally gave out instructions to both Bucky and the viewers.

“Okay, you guys, let me just pop these into the oven real quick,” you said as you placed the last piece of dough on the baking tray. “Babe, can you please watch them while I do this?”

While you were busy with the cookies, Bucky watched the comments like a hawk, staring at them as they flooded in.

User 1: dude you’re literally so fucking cool

“Someone said a swear!” Bucky called out to you as he continued staring at the camera, his eyes narrowed.

“Tell them not to swear, it’s bad,” you chided like how a mother would to her child.

Bucky then recited the username of the commenter, pointing at the camera, “You better watch your language, kid. Your mama’s not going to like that. Mine certainly did not.”

The comments were flooded with all kinds of keyboard and emoji smashes, and words that are borderline incoherent as they reacted to you and Bucky acting like strict parents.

User 1: sorry mom and dad 😔

User 2: pls adopt me y’all are literally my parents

User 3: do u guys need a dog i can bark

User 4: ilysm pls dont die yet

“I don’t think your parents would appreciate you having Avengers as your new parents. Sorry, kid.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “No, we don’t need a dog. We already have Sam. And no, I’m not dying anytime soon. Thanks for your concern, I guess...”

Sam, who was currently in the livestream, spammed the comments with all sorts of insults for Bucky. He, of course, ignored them all, but not without rolling his eyes.

User 5: i’m gonna tell my friends i spent time with the avengers on the weekends 😎

“Well then, tell your friends I said hi.”

“Tell them I did too!” You said as you came into the camera’s view. “And you seem like you’re having fun without me. I am very hurt.”

User 6: NOOOO we love you mom!!!!

User 7: mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry.

You snorted as you saw the comment, while Bucky’s brows furrowed, “What does that even mean?”

You laughed, “I’ll teach you all those slangs later, babe.”

[famwhy]

Not a Morning Person

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

Hobie Brown X F!Reader

Synopsis: Mornings were always difficult with Hobie: he never seemed to want to get up, nor did he ever seem to want to let you to get up either.

Warning: slightly suggestive but mostly fluff.

Note: 'peak' is road slang for 'sad', 'likkle' is 'little', 'ting' is 'thing' (it seems like I need to clarify this but 'peak' can be used as a good thing and a bad thing, it depends on context. In this context, it is used to mean 'sad'.)

You loved your boyfriend—you really did. He had your whole heart in the palm of his hands and you trusted him with it; trusted him not to squeeze too hard on it—not to shatter it into a million broken shards of a love that once was.

And you damn well knew the feeling was mutual—he'd told you so himself, proclaimed it with eyes that were practically shaped into hearts as he gazed at you with that swirling sense of adoration; one that never failed to make you feel special.

But... you'd be lying if you said he couldn't get a little frustrating sometimes. Like now, for instance.

"Hobie, please."

"No." His response was curt, and very much final.

"I need to get up."

"That's peak for you then, innit?"

His snark edged one of your brows up, and you're sure you would've crossed your arms too had he not restricted your movement with his own—much stronger, might you add—limb.

Your lips parted—very much ready to have a go at him for the unwarranted attitude—when, instead of actual words, a light gasp left them; practically inaudible from how soft it was, but that didn't make what happened any less surprising.

His lips had found their way onto your neck, pressing soft, gentle kisses across the exposed area with an occasional—and very intoxicating—nip here and there. The contact flooded your vision with pink and you almost melted right in that very moment.

"Just a likkle longer, love," he muttered into your skin, lips making contact with the surface in a repeated pattern that shot tingles straight down your spine, "can't believe I got so lucky to land a pretty ting like you."

His hand slipped under your shirt; cold arm resting against the warmth of your stomach as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear in hopes of saving himself from a lecture—and you were afraid to admit that it was very much working. You were always such a sucker for sweet moments like this.

Stop it. Stand your ground, Y/N.

"Hobie."

"Hm?" His head tilted up, gaze looking at you with that sense of endearment only you were privy to receiving from him; the twitch of his lips showcasing his lovestruck smile in a show of vulnerability that, once again, only you had the pleasure of seeing on him.

His hues were softened and practically swirling with that domestic love you knew he held for you; the one that would instantly ease all his muscles and have him actively seek you out just to hold you in his arms, to love on you like he always claimed you deserved.

When you didn't respond immediately, his grip on you tightened and he pulled you further into his side; to fit against him like you were meant to be there, like he was incomplete without you—and you, without him.

Ah, you were always so weak to him when he got like this.

"...okay, we can stay like this for a little longer."

His lips tugged up and he grinned at you, lunging straight for your neck to attack you with another fit of gentle, adoring kisses—ones that made you sigh in what you could only describe as contentment, your fingers finding their way to his wicks, running through them with the bitter taste of defeat on your tongue and the casual swell of love in your heart.

Sure, Hobie wasn't much of a morning person but, to be completely honest—

—you weren't much of one either.

[wordsarelife]

—august

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: mattheo chose you and still you wonder why he even broke up with his ex in the first place

warnings: feeling like the wrong choice, insecure reader, angst but fluff ending

notes: i just wrote a little drabble since i already had a planned fic ready for lacy, i hope you still like it!

her hair was flowing effortlessly over her shoulders, caressing her back like it was some sort of clothing. she looked effortlessly pretty in general, soft pink lips and warm brown eyes reflecting the light of the sun when she would walk through the courtyard.

and the worst thing about her? she was nice. simply put. you couldn’t even manage to hate her, because next to being beautiful, she had a charming personality, a great sense of humor and friends everywhere she went.

you had understood if she had hated you. you, the new girlfriend of her first great love. but she didn’t and that made it impossibly worse.

“hey, y/n” she had greeted one morning, a smile plastered on her face and happiness reflecting in her eyes. “theo mentioned that you had some problems regarding the divination essay” she said and added, before you were able to retort something: “i finished mine a few days ago and thought it might help you to read over it. it was indeed a very hard task, i struggled too”

“oh” you had said, dumbfounded, and stared at the pieces of parchment she was holding in your direction. “thank you, aurora”

“no problem” she grinned. “and rory is fine, all my friends call me that”

she had left in a hurry, having to return books to the library, and you spent your time looking after her in awe, surprise and insecurity flooding your features.

it was beyond you why mattheo had decided to break up with her. aurora turner was simply perfect and you certainly weren’t.

"what's going on in there, huh?" mattheo slipped into the space beside you, touching your head with one of his fingers softly.

"oh, nothing" you quickly excused, taking your eyes off of aurora and looking to the book in front of you. "this reading for muggle studies is just taking up my brain"

"romeo and juliet?" mattheo questioned, studying the leatherbound book.

"yeah" you sighed. "the english is kinda off"

"i know" he shrugged, turning the book around in his hands and opening it to a random page.

"you know?" you repeated, trying not to laugh. "i never as much saw you look at a book before"

"i liked this one" he smiled.

your smirk died down. "oh, i didn't know that" you tried to find his eyes. "why did you never mention it? i would've read it sooner then"

"it's not a big deal, that was ages ago" he paused, unsure if it was okay to finish the sentence, but you urged him on, nodding repeatedly so he would continue. "rory liked it"

"oh" you said plainly, before you realized that your reaction was all the more telling of your inner jealousy and insecurity about his old relationship. "i mean cool"

"y/n" mattheo muttered, laying the book down in front of you. "it really doesn't matter. we don't even have to mention it again"

"i don't want you to feel like you can't tell me something, just because you experienced it with your ex" you smiled, but it was costing you all your strength. "you can talk about the past, it doesn't bother me"

"that's clearly a lie" mattheo saw through you completely. "you shouldn't have to hide your feelings to make me feel better"

you sighed, realising that it was to no use to lie to him. "sorry, i just—" you shook your head "i don't even know why you decided to break up with her in the first place and i think i'm scared that you'll realize that at one point too"

mattheo looked at you with a soft smile, his gaze searching your eyes as if trying to convey everything he felt with just that look. "y/n, i'm gonna be honest. it’s not that rory wasn’t great," he began, his tone gentle. "she is a really good person, and there was nothing wrong with her. but that doesn’t mean she was the right person for me."

you blinked, trying to process his words as he continued.

"i realized that being with someone just because they seem perfect on the surface doesn’t mean it’s the right fit. we just didn’t connect in the way i needed. with you..." he hesitated, as if searching for the right words, "...it’s different. you make me feel understood. you get me in a way that no one else does."

you looked at him with so much admiration that he had to look down, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

"look" he said, when he was able to look in your eyes again. "dating rory was like constantly standing on a pedestal and people expecting me to be something different than i was. that didn't feel right, and it shouldn't. but being with you feels like coming home after a long day, realizing that there's someone in my corner even if no one else likes me for who i am and not for who they see in me"

"i didn't know you felt like that" you muttered, ashamed that you had possibly made him uncomfortable.

"i don't, not anymore" he smiled. "not since i met you. because i don't care about the others. i just care about us, you and me"

"i love you" you said as he kissed your cheek, pulling you closer by your waist.

"i love you" mattheo mumbled against your mouth. "don't ever think you're worth less than her, just because you're not her. if anything that's what makes you more special to me"

you nodded, teary-eyed, as he pushed his lips forward to meet yours. your hands toyed with the hem of his curls as he deepend the kiss.

after that day you never questioned mattheo's choice again. and you could see that both him and rory held a lot of respect for each other. but both were not even interested in anything deeper. mattheo never looked up when he heard her voice anywhere. rory never came to the tree you had often seen them kissing at, back when they had been together.

you realized that being enough for mattheo had never meant being perfect—it had only ever meant being yourself.