#like I can’t take them seriously when they look awkward but I’m so used to it that when they don’t look awkward for once

[allinsideyourhead]

The Concert in Central Park rehearsal, 19th September 1981

[disneyprincemuke]

best dress * fem!driver

when pictures circulate on instagram of her on a night out in her best dress, the guys start to get curious who she’s out and about with on a saturday night

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver

warnings: none

notes: i may have gotten carried away with this one… and this might have played out a LOT funnier in my head than it does written down

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

-> the aftermath

she pushes the door open and steps out of her racing home. she looks left and right cautiously, careful not to catch her colleagues’ attentions. there’s many nights she’d appreciate their companionship but tonight is not that night.

she can only step one down before her worst nightmare comes to life.

“hey, where are you going?” she turns her head, mouth agape as she meets lando’s curious eyes. his eyes scan her body and his head tilts. “and why are you all dressed up?”

she straightens her body and pats her dress down. she flicks her hair behind her shoulder, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the air.

“um,” she trails off, glancing at the group of engineers walking past them without another thought. “i’m going out tonight.”

lando’s smile drops. “oh,” he slouches, “i was here to ask you if you wanted to grab drinks with us at the bar tonight.”

“hey lando, did you f- what are you wearing?” oscar’s jaw drops, nose scrunched up as he points at her in what can only be described as disgust. “where are you even going?”

“out,” she answers with gritted teeth, glancing at the gantries of the paddocks. it’s so close yet so far away. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? i’ve really got to go.”

“but you never turn down post-quali drinks at the bar,” lando frowns. he presses his palm against his chest and throws his head back. “i can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”

oscar looks her up and down, eyebrow raising as it gets to the heels she’s put on. “why are you wearing heels? seriously, where the hell are you going?”

“exploring the city!”

“exploring the c– we’re here year after year. we know the best spots!” lando defends. “come on! we’re going to have so much fun!”

“you’re exploring the city in heels?”

she narrows her eyes down into a mean glare. of course this is the one time that oscar decides to remember she doesn’t wear high heels for exploration purposes. “yeah.”

“you know you want to come with us.” lando shimmies his shoulders, face hopeful that the driver would change her mind. but she still shakes her head and his smile immediately drops. “fine. be that way.”

“i’m sorry, i already arranged my plans even before we flew to miami,” she laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “if you guys are going out tomorrow, i’m free to join.”

lando intertwines his fingers. “okay. but if you cancel again, i’m crashing into you the next race.”

“okay,” she chuckles, readjusting the strap of her purse. “i’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”

oscar rolls his eyes, but a smile still stretches his lips. “don’t get lost. it’s a big city, (y/n).”

“yeah, penelope’s doing amazing,” max nods, his arm resting on the back of lando’s chair. one of his legs over the other, he takes a swig of his beer. “she just started school recently.”

“oh, i s-“

“hold up!” lando holds his arm out to max’s chest, his scream startling everyone seated around the table. the light from his phone illuminates his face as everyone turns to him with a puzzled stare. “oh, my god!”

“what?” max answers just as enthusiastically, smacking lando’s thigh to get his attention. lando lifts the phone up into his face, squinting as he tries to make out the person in the picture.

“yeah, don’t cut me off,” george scoffs as he folds his arms over his chest. “i was just asking if-“

“(y/n)’s out on a date!” lando yells, smacking max’s chest. he pushes himself off the chair and throws the phone into george’s lap. “dude, i knew it! i knew there was a reason she’s all dressed up!”

“seriously!” george screams towards his fellow brit.

“a date?” oscar scoffs, in absolute disbelief that his best friend could even have the ability to attract a man. “there’s no way.”

max grins sheepishly, handing the phone over to the australian. “i’m afraid so. someone saw her in a restaurant with a guy,” max states, “it’s all over instagram.”

oscar snorts, slowly analysing the grainy picture of the girl in a restaurant with somebody. sure, it’s similar to the dress she wore when they caught her sneaking out of the paddocks, but how sure can they be that it’s her?

“we should go and find her!” max suggests, his face lighting up and cheeks flushed from all the alcohol. he jumps in his seat and smacks george’s thigh lightly. “dude, let’s find her!”

“are you crazy?” george grabs max’s hand and throws it back at his body. “her date’s none of our business!”

though, lando disagrees with his friend. he clasps his hands together with a loud sound. “let’s go, gentlemen. we’re crashing (y/n)’s date.”

but only max stands up, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. “i’m ready. i’ve got my brave face on.”

“you look absolutely ridiculous,” george raises an eyebrow, “i don’t believe you used to scare off victoria’s suitors when you were younger.”

“me neither, but it somehow worked,” max nods proudly, turning slightly to look at george. “come on! this is practice for when it’s penelope’s turn! i have to make it believable this time.”

“you’re so drunk, mate,” george sighs. yet he still gets off his seat. “but i kinda want to see this with my own eyes.”

lando turns to oscar, still planted in his seat. lando doesn’t get to say a word before oscar starts shaking his head vigorously.

lando slouches. “why not?”

“i absolutely don’t believe that (y/n) is strong enough to take me in a normal fight,” oscar shakes his head, “but i’ve learned my lesson squeezing myself into a scenario that involves her dating life.”

george tilts his head. “what?”

oscar looks up, eyes scanning the three older men towering over him. “she gave me a really bad bruise one time when i scared off this guy that hit on her in the mall.”

“so?” max yanks oscar off his seat. “i’ll protect you. come on, i’ve got to see who’s sweeping (y/n) off her feet.”

“okay, but remember to tell her i tried to stop you,” oscar mutters, letting max push him towards the door.

after many dms sent on instagram, phone calls made, and struggles to find a taxi, the four have finally arrived at the restaurant. it’s a quiet establishment in the further end of the city, heads turning as passersby recognise the huddled men by the entrance.

“are you sure it’s this one?” oscar looks up at the sign. it’s a lot fancier than he expected. “doesn’t really seem like (y/n)’s gig.”

“if i were taking the grid’s princess out on a date, i’d take her to a fancy restaurant too,” max shrugs, following oscar’s stare.

the amount of time it took them to connect the puzzle pieces really sobered him up.

george taps his foot on the ground, craning his neck for a better look through the window. “are you sure it’s here? i don’t see her.”

“the girl that posted it said she was here when snapped the picture,” lando confirms, looking between his phone screen and the sign of the restaurant. “what if (y/n) tricked us knowing we’d come running?”

once the server comes back out, guiding them to their table, each of them does their own part to pick the girl from the crowd.

“i don’t see her,” max sighs, taking one last look at the restaurant’s tables and picking up the menu. “there’s no way we ditched the bar for a wild goose chase.”

“because she’s in the far corner over there,” oscar says nonchalantly, head flicking towards the other end of the restaurant where it’s slightly darker than normal. “i noticed her when we were outside the restaurant.”

george slowly turns his head to oscar. “while we were busting our asses looking for her?”

oscar shrugs, eyes boring into the menu for a snack to fill himself with. “i told you — i’m not getting another bruise for meddling with her love life.”

“nice! there’s a table closer to her!” max suddenly says, already on his feet to follow the waiter. he turns around and beckons his friends to follow him. “come on!”

they keep their heads low as the face of the familiar girl comes into sight. oscar even covers with his face with the menu, having learned his lesson from all those years ago.

they’re a table diagonal from her, menus up to cover their faces from her. “dude, who is she with?”

“i don’t know, i can’t get a look at his face without revealing mine,” george mutters, peeking slightly above his menu. he darts back down and rolls his eyes. “max, your turn.”

“don’t make it look obvious,” lando mutters, nudging max’s elbow with his. “look like you’re looking for a waiter.”

max swiftly turns in his seat, completely twisting his torso to get a look. but the man is faced away, the driver comfortably sitting in the booth seat as she giggles at something he said.

“dude, i can’t,” max shrugs, shying away behind his menu once more.

to the table next to them, a menu drops and reveals sebastian. “what are you idiots doing here?”

george’s jaw drops, pointing a finger at the older man. “we could ask you the same.”

“we saw her getting in a random ass car outside the paddocks.” the other menu across sebastian lowers, revealing logan with his hood covering his head. “we followed her here.”

“so you know who she’s with?” max asks in a hushed whisper, leaning towards their table. he looks down at the empty table. “you haven’t ordered anything?”

“it took us a while to get a table,” logan shrugs, pulling his hood further down to cover his face. “food’s in the kitchen.”

“oh, what did you get?” max asks, now looking back at the menu for something to order.

“mate!” george scolds, rolling his eyes before facing the other table. “who is she with?”

“according to blythe, it’s jacob elordi,” sebastian says, then shrugs with the roll of his eyes. “whoever that is.”

“oh, i’ve heard of him,” max nods, pressing his lips together. “he was in euphoria, wasn’t he?”

the table falls silent, heads turning to look at the dutchman as his confession falls from his lips. max notices their stares and he simply shrugs. “kelly and i like to watch shows over the break.”

“still not a show i expected you to be watching,” lando scoffs, turning slightly to get a glimpse of the girl once more. “isn’t he a bit too old for her?”

max straightens up, stiffly turning to look at lando. his head tilts as an unimpressed expression lands on his face. “dude. easy on the age gap.”

“yours doesn’t count,” lando sighs, “she’s practically a baby!”

oscar clicks his tongue. “but i mean… jacob elordi isn’t ugly, yes? an upgrade from her only boyfriend, right, max?”

max shrugs. “i guess.”

sebastian nods towards the table, his eyes suddenly widening at the empty booth seat. “where did she go? did she ditch him?”

“no, she caught you.” a low feminine voice makes all their heads turn to the end of the table. she looks down and pulls the hood off of logan’s head and shoves him forward slightly. “why are you here? you’re better than this!”

logan shrugs, chuckling slightly. “you were being secretive! i was just curious!”

“this is the last time i’m going on a date from the paddocks,” she grunts, stomping her heel into the ground. “go home, you guys! we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

sebastian hisses as the waiter stops behind her, dishes resting on top of the tray in his hands. “we already got some food.”

she narrows her eyes down, locking eyes with max. “you’re here too?”

max nods. “i suggested this,” his eyes go around the table, “team bonding activity.”

“i just wanted to see what would happen,” george admits. he points at max seated opposite him, “he said he wanted to scare off whoever your date is.”

“it’s true, i heard him say it,” lando nods, a small and guilty smile flashes at her. “we were just concerned about you.”

sebastian grabs her wrist gently, shaking her arm. “don’t be mad anymore. come on…”

“and you!” she points a finger at the australian sitting quietly between logan and george. his head snaps up at the yelp, wide and guilty eyes meeting hers. “i told you to stop meddling with my love life!”

“what?” oscar screams back, dropping his menu. “i was dragged here against my will!”

“i don’t believe you!”

“max!” oscar looks at max, then points at the furious girl as he awaits his explanation.

max stares at him for a second too long, and a giggle erupts from his throat. “right! right… we forced him here. he did not want another bruise, he said.”

“good,” she scolds, turning on her heel. “we’re leaving.”

“but we just got here!” lando squeaks. he cowers into his seat when she turns back around to glare at him, giving him flashbacks to a time when his mother would use it on him. “i mean, enjoy your time and don’t get too tired. it’s race day tomorrow.”

oscar doesn’t bother looking at her again. “see you tomorrow, loser.”

“where are you going?” george asks, a mischevious grin on his face to challenge her. “back to the hotel for some fun time?”

“a walk,” she sighs, dropping her head. she leans on the table. “my heels are killing me.”

“oh, i’ve got you,” sebastian mutters, disappearing underneath the table. out of his bag is a pair of doll shoes, the ones that she keeps in the garage when her time in the race car is over. “i saw these lying around aimlessly and thought i should keep them for you before it gets too dirty.”

she glares at him, hesitantly taking the shoes into her hand. “you took these from my room, didn’t you?”

sebastian shrugs. “you don’t wear heels very often, kid.”

“give me recommendations for date places,” logan smiles. “maybe next time i’ll have a girl out here with me. like you with jacob elordi.”

her mood changes back to what it was before: a mixture of irritation and not one of amusement. “i will kill you guys tomorrow. my date is waiting for me outside.”

oscar waves her towards the door. “i trust you’ll text logan and i about this later.”

“hey, i want in!” lando adds on, completely ignoring the girl walking away to the door.

“dude, this is seriously none of our business.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife

[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.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Ford x fem!reader x Stan

minors dni

Stan’s grip on you tightens, pulling you against his frame as he crashes his lips against yours. There’s no hesitation, just raw, impatient hunger, the kind of kiss that takes your breath away and leaves you wanting more. His hands roam with a boldness that leaves no room for doubt, fingers digging into your hips as if claiming you.

From behind, Ford’s approach is way softer. His lips ghost along the curve of your neck, pressing tender slow kisses to your skin. Such contrast between them makes you dizzy, overwhelmed by the intensity of their touches. You groan softly, caught in the heat of it all, and instinctively lean back into Ford’s embrace. There Stan's face visibly frowns.

Stan pulls back just enough to mutter, “Don't let him think he's in charge here.” his tone is rough, tinged with jealousy, his hand slides over your side, possessive and demanding as if trying to take you away from his twin.

Before you can respond, Ford’s voice cuts through, quiet but confident. “She can decide for herself, Stan,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “can’t you, darling?”

The tension between the brothers is palpable, but so is the way their hands explore your body. Stan’s touch is firm, always a little too eager, while Ford’s fingers trail gently over your skin, savoring every inch. They both can’t get enough of you. Stan’s lips crash back into yours, but Ford’s kisses never stop, his mouth pressing slow, sensual kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, you literally melt between them. 

A loud moan escapes your lips when Stan's hand slaps your butt, you sob from a little pain and feel Ford's body tense behind you as he glares at his brother. “What? Are you trying to make me look bad?” Stan huffs.

Ford smirks softly, nipping at your skin gently before whispering, “no? Im just appreciating how beautiful she is.” his touch is feather-light, contrasting with Stan’s more possessive grip. “and I'm trying to please her, Stanley, not hurt her."

“Yeah? well, I’d like to appreciate her too,” Stan bites out, jealousy bubbling inside him. “don’t forget who’s been here longer.” he murmurs into your mouth and leans in again, capturing your lips.

You whimper softly, overwhelmed by their attention, your face all flushed as you try to hold yourself. Both men vying for your attention. Ford smiles against your skin. “Good girl,” he praises softly.

Stan, at the exact same time, mutters, “Atta girl.”

They both fall silent as their words intersect in the most unexpected way. They pull away, looking at each other over your shoulder, realizing what just happened. There's an awkward silence for a moment, but then Stan huffs in annoyance, his grip on your waist tightening. “Seriously? you gotta steal my lines now?”

Ford, always calm, arches an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk. “Didn’t realize praise was trademarked,” he remarks dryly.

You laugh softly, but the sound breathy from arousal. "Are you really arguing about this right now?” you ask them, needing their attention and kisses so badly, you don’t want that to stop.

Stan shoots a half-grin your way, nodding. “You better believe it, sweetie. I’m not lettin’ this nerd outdo me.”

Ford still remains calm and patient, although his hand slides up, cupping your chin, gently turning your face towards him. “Outdo you? Stan, we’re not in a competition.” his lips gently touch yours as he murmurs, “we’re both making her feel good.”

Stan’s cocky grin widens, and he leans in, his voice rough as he rests his hands on your thighs. “Speak for yourself, i think she likes me better.”

Ford chuckles smoothly, rolling his eyes and pressing another kiss to your shoulder, his breath tickles your skin pleasantly. “Is that so? Why don’t we let her tell us herself?”

Your heart pounds, your body burns at their touch and it takes your breath away when their eyes focus solely on you, waiting, watching. “I. . . I like both of you,” you admit breathlessly. “please, just- just continue, I need you both.”

Stan’s eyes light up, his fingers slide lower, his thumb brushing teasingly along your hip. “That’s my girl.”

Ford’s touch remains soft still, his lips pressing a delicate kiss to your neck as he murmurs against your skin, “You’re perfect, darling.”

[evie-sturns]

Friends - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and chris are friends with benefits until you notice a change in his behaviour, he starts to get angry about how clingy you are.

contains: fwb!chris, arguing, angst, yelling, crying, making out.

--------------------└── •✧• ──┘---------------—-

chris and i have known each other since we were barely able to speak, i've known him my whole life and we've always just. been. friends. until around 8 months ago. i don't even remember how it happened but suddenly his hands were roaming over me, and we fucked.

we both decided after that experience that would be friends with benifets, how could we not after getting a feel for eachother? it was so convinent because i'm always over at their house with nick and matt, they're also my closest friends.

7:39pm

i lay on the sturniolos couch in my small shorts and a tank top, nicks laying beside me as we talk about absolute bullshit.

"nick, you're seriously yapping now" i laugh, "no but tell me thats not the best wednesday video ever, i'm getting matt." he declares, heaving himself up and running out the room, he comes back with matt.

"i will happily cook salmon tomorrow for the wednesday video." matt says with a deadpan face, he speaks like he's being held at gunpoint.

nick claps, "let's go get the shit now" he says with a know it all smile on his face, "dickhead." i scoff to nick, he shrugs with a wide grin.

"you wanna come get the stuff from the grocery store with us?" matt asks, i shake my head "i'm not dressed for the occasion" i joke.

he laughs before grabbing the keys which are attached to his jeans loop, he walks with nick outside, shutting the front door behind him.

i put my phone down on the pillow beside me before standing up, aimlessly walking upstairs.

i open the door to chris's room, "chriss" i say with a smile before entering the room.

"why aren't you with nick and matt." he says, sitting up against his headboard. "hello to you too." i say sarcastically, jumping into bed beside him.

i lay my leg over chris's thigh, my hand reaching out and tracing random shapes on his arm, he pushes me off casually, an awkward silence filling the room.

“can i not touch you now or something.” i say jokingly, chris snaps.

“can you fuck off for once?” he raises his voice, i sit up in bed as my heart thumps. “what?” i say, slightly shaken up.

“all you do is touch me and be around me,” he starts, my mouth falls open slightly.

“we are FRIENDS with benefits, i don’t know why the fuck you act like we’re together?” he says, emphasising the ‘friends’.

“so for fucks sake, act like it, act like we are normal friends because the only thing different about us is we fuck, nothing. else.” chris finishes before standing up off his bed, walking out of his room and slamming the door behind him.

tears pool in my eyes, first of all he knows i can’t take being yelled at, he also knows that i’ve always been insecure about how clingy i can get.

i didn’t have any friends other than the triplets when i was growing up, they were all i really needed. so i’ve stuck to them majorly,

i always ask nick if i’m coming over too much, and if they want me to stay at my apartment i can, but nicks always shut down that, telling me that he will literally lock all doors so i can’t leave.

but that was just nick, nick wanted me to stay, did chris like me round?

i sit alone on chris’s bed, replaying each word than came out of his mouth over and over in my head.

“i don’t know why the fuck you act like we’re together”

“can you fuck off for once?”

i let out a small sob, tears starting to paint my cheeks. i bring my knees up to my chest as i bury my face in his pillows

i let out shaky breathes, having a poor attempt to calm myself down.

-

7:46am

i don’t know when i fell asleep, all i know is that i’m slowly starting to wake up in chris’s bed.

his arms are wrapped around me, spooning me as he snores lightly into the back of my neck, i stir as i look down.

i sit up in bed, chris’s arms still on me as he lets out a tired groan. all events of what happened last night start coming back to me. i instantly try to get out of bed but chris has a firm grip around my waist,

“chris, let me go.” i whisper yell, he shakes his head.

i place two hands on his wrists and try to pry them off of me. chris is slowly waking up, i feel tears start to form again, knowing that he most likely had to sleep next to me cause i fell asleep in his bed.

i let in trembling breathes, chris sits up. “sh shh.” he says, pulling me down onto his lap as he sits up against his headboard.

“can i please talk to you.” chris says, his voice hoarse.

“chris.” i say, small droplets of tears rolling down my cheeks as i fight his grip.

“i’m going home now.” i say again, “no you’re not.” chris starts.

“i am so sorry.” chris says, grabbing my face and making me look at him.

“i am so sorry.” he repeats, rubbing my arm with his free hand lightly

“i am so sorry for opening my mouth last night , i am so sorry for making you cry, i am so sorry for walking out of the room, i am so sorry for yelling.”

“i love you so much, more than you understand and there is actually no excuse for what i said, i don’t know why i said it. i have never felt truly loved by someone other than my family so it’s really throwing me off that you want to touch me, you want to be near me.”

“i think i’m so scared of getting to attached to you and then you leaving, because i can’t handle that, i don’t want you to leave, ever.”

he finishes, my tears came to a halt as soon as the words ‘i love you’ left his mouth.

“do you mean it..?” i ask, looking up at chris.

he grabs my jaw staring at my lips,

“chris, i have morning breath.” i laugh slightly

“i do not care at all.” he says, slamming his lips onto mine,

his arms holding me tighter than ever, he doesn’t let me go for the rest of the morning no matter how much i protest.

—————-

[zweiginator]

thinking about casually hooking up w patrick after art and tashi dump us both <3 stress relief and it’s not exactly clear who is seeking out who but then lines get blurry and he’s in love whoops and he becomes a softie who only lets his guard down for her aHhhH he just wants to be taken care of fr

tashi dumping patrick because he doesn’t take her seriously enough and art dumping you because he says he doesn’t feel anything for you anymore. you’re both heartbroken and want them back. and drunkenly with a lack of better judgment, patrick calls you up. you’ve never talked to him on the phone and you honestly forget ever giving him your number but you answer, sniffling.

“are you crying?” he asks you.

“no.” you lie. “what’s up?”you don’t know patrick all too well. just that he’s in tashi and art’s circle and your heart aches because you’re sure art will be going to tashi for comfort and you wonder if he has a crush on her.

“tashi dumped me.”

you had heard it through the grapevine, but half considered it a rumor until now. “i’m sorry patrick.” you feel awkward; you’ve only spoken to patrick a handful of times and now he’s on the verge of tears on the phone with you.

“well if it makes you feel better, art dumped me.”

patrick, of course, knows this. it’s why he called you.

“art has never been smart with women.” patrick sighs. he asks to come over because he doesn’t want to be alone tonight. you mutter a yes please. it sounds desperate but patrick beats you in that race because he’s over at your place in ten minutes flat when the drive would usually take eleven.

you open the door and he towers above you, eyes bloodshot as a puts out a cigarette.

you pull him inside or he’s stumbling in neither of you remember because you don’t need to exchange words or awkward condolences to the other. you end up on the couch, straddling him, pulling his t-shirt up to feel his chest and abs and he helps you tear it off.

you moan. he’s hot. art is hot too but you’re not thinking of him. patrick is hot and so masculine, with hair peppered on his abs and chest and your fingers loop in the waistband of his sweatpants.

“fucking kiss me.” he yanks you down to him, his huge hand splayed across the back of your head, guiding you. his tongue pries your mouth open and you can’t help but grind yourself down on him.

time goes quickly but you feel like you’re wading in water, moving fluidly as patrick pulls his erection out. he’s not wearing underwear and you wrap your hand around him.

you don’t want to ride him, you want to forget about everything and just be fucked. patrick reads your mind as he flips you over on your stomach and hovers over you, his stomach pressed against your back.

“tell me you need me.” he rubs the head of his cock against your dripping pussy and you mewl, looking back at patrick. you’re more present than you want to be. art would never fuck you like this. too animalistic.

he yanks your hair, spits on your face. your cunt flutters around nothing.

“i need you—fuck.”

“yeah you fucking do.” and he pushes in all at once. it knocks the wind out of you. your knuckles are white from gripping onto the couch cushions so hard and you’re drooling onto the fabric. patrick’s moans are dropping in filth like his words are as he splits you open, somehow managing to rock your couch forward.

and wordlessly, in the midst of this impromptu hookup, you both realize you fucked up the moment patrick’s head rests in the crook of your neck to find your mouth for a kiss. he loves this, and he thinks he loves you and tashi will never forgive him if she finds out about this.

he just fucks you harder.

[miffy-00]

i literally cannot stop thinking about jean being the epitome of getting no play despite being so fine

like his friend literally clown on him so hard for like being one of the finest guys in their fg but once he starts opening his mouth he repels girls 😭😭 i picture eren and connie being the meanest.

“tbh he’s wasted genetics” “what are you good for bro..” eren is his biggest hater hes like “talking about girls won’t get you a girl man you need to talk to them” and “i can try help you but it would just be a waste of my time” and ITS MESSING HIM UPPP LMAOO WHY AM I BEING SO MEAN TO MY BBY. okay anyways yeah he just gets even more in his head about talking to girls

i don’t even think jean is THAT bad when talking to girls like he’s not rude or gross but more so just SOOOO awkward. like he’s confident bc he knows he is fine but he is also soooo unsure of who he REALLY is and it shows iwl. like he just covers everything he says with sarcasm as a way to avoid being deep and personal. bc jean is so emotional and can really see eachothers emotions and feelings but i think it’s hard for him to be open. it really comes out when he’s talking with girls though he’s like yes i’m so ready to talk to her but he just misses the mark. every. single. time.

“you’re cute, but i know that so it doesn’t even matter”

and bless him bc he’s so happy with himself. but it makes no sense. you’re so puzzled and he’s just looking at your adorable face but then he’s repeating it under his breath bc you look so confused.

“you’re..cute..but..i..know….i..know..?” then the light bulb comes and “oh shit, i meant that you’re cute but you know that so there’s um..no point in me talking to you” and he’s so embarrassed bc it’s equally as shit the og way. but he’s rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact.

but yk you’re patient you wait it out. you giggle and he’s just becoming more attracted to you bc why wouldn’t he be ! and you lean in to him making him more comfortable and say “it’s nice to be complimented. thank you” and he’s just so happy like he would never admit it but he loves when a girl takes the lead ! your head is slightly tilted you’re looking up at him through your lashes your glossy lips are curving into a smile like he can feel your body and energy next to him and it’s driving him cray cray !

“youre jean right?” you smile “it’s crazy you really do live up to the rumours” you start to giggle again. jean is giggling too just because you are and is ignoring what you just said. until he clocks it and he’s like oh fuck

“my rumours…i have rumours…what..rumours?” rubbing his neck again is clearly a habit for him when he’s nervous. internally, jean is worrying so bad like rumours RUMOURS ?!?! i think jean knows his reputation is a bit um yk divided let’s say ! but he’s genuinely feeling something with you so whatever bad flirting story it is he is literally praying that you still like him.

“that you can’t flirt. for shit. if a gun was pointed at your head you’d break down and tell your family you’ll miss them bc yk you’re going to die“ and jean is relieved there was too many stories that could be used against him but a simple “you can’t flirt” he could live with that.

“oh..yeah..it’s true ! i’m fine but the f in fine doesn’t stand for flirting with girls” he joked, desperately wanting for your approval “who told you you’re fine ? hmm? maybe i just can’t see it ?” you tease but he starts scrambling “i was just um joking mb mb” throwing his hand up and rubbing his neck AGAIN you have him sick lol. “ i was just playin with you jean.. you’re fine…but yk that though so we don’t need to talk”

he shakes his head and starts laughing. you two are a giggly mess. you’re matching his energy PERFECTLY and he’s so down with it “if we can’t talk right now.. can i get your number..” he’s PRAYING on this on you because seriously you match his energy so well and there’s just something so magnetic about you and he just wants more. like he can’t even look at you he is down BAD he’s never waited so anxiously for something in his life

“pass your phone…” he’s fumbling around in all his pockets his hands are sweaty and he’s like juggling his phone just to not drop it. he hands he phone and even if it’s just for a second his hand touch’s yours and you guys are smiling like idiots at eachother. his heart is pounding he’s so nervous around you. “anddd..done…bye bye jean” you chastely kiss his cheek and walk away with a grin plastered all over your face. and as you walk away eren and connie walk in.

“you good man?” and he’s just in shock jaw is wide open hand covering his mouth and he is gripping his phone. he’s just staring at his phone thinking maybe i can flirt… he’s full on reflecting on himself and thinking what the fuck i did it i really did it.. and eren and connie are just shaking him and slapping his face to like break him out of his comatose state LMAOO

but when he starts speaking again and reveals what happened theyre like “I KNEW YOU COULD DO THAT SHIT! lowkey we’ve been sleeping on you man !” and “about fucking time man well done” and the hug that men do follows and there’s even more hyping up after they find out it’s you that he pulled “NAH I DONT BELIEVE IT I DONT BELIEVE IT” connie legit starts jumping up and down he’s hyped and eren he’s like a dad or something patting him on the back and saying “good job” 😭

that was the day jean flirting worked successfully

a/n: gulp this is so scary !! first post..but tell me what you think i’m open to literally any feedback and i hope you enjoyy

[ambivalence-is-me]

Your Power (3)

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: You made it out of the meeting with Azriel and the Inner Circle. They wanted to work with you, but how was it going to work? It seemed impossible with the crush you seem to be developing on the Shadowsinger.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: none

A/N: This is 3 months late, I know I know. Forgive me but I haven't forgotten about this story! I'm hoping this month I can get more parts out so don't give up on me pls. Dont forget to comment and let me know what you think! Thank you for the feedback!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Remembrance Day... 

A day meant for remembering all of the lives that were lost to the war. Remember, honor and grieve for them. Five years too late but it was better than to continue like it never happened. 

Right?  

That was better than any idea you had. You just wanted it to be acknowledged, that a major event happened to a whole freaking city and left them, left you traumatized. And trauma needed to be acknowledged and healed, not shoved away.  

It was going to be a big day, major really. The idea is for every citizen of Velaris to attend and pay their respects. The logistics and details?  

‘’Gather people who will be willing to work for this. Create a team, have a meeting and lead them.’’  

Rhysand had said back at that cozy-not-formal-at-all room in the Library. Wait, did they expect you to do everything? It was their idea! They can’t just throw everything at you! Well, they can but... 

‘’We will be right there with you, every step of the way.’’ Feyre said, noticing the look on your face. She smiled ‘’Anything you need, you tell us, and we’ll get it done.’’ 

It made sense for you to be the one to gather the people. They didn’t know them, didn't know your neighbors, your co-workers, the old fae who owned a bakery down the street from you who also lost someone to the war, the people who made the city.. Velaris. But they knew you.  

‘’How am I supposed to convince them?  I’m so...awkward and I talk to much sometimes.’’ You expressed your worry to your sister-in-law the next morning after your encounter with the Inner Circle.  

She gave you a look in return that said ‘’only sometimes?’’ But she knew what you meant, it was a valid worry to have.  

‘’I doubt you would need to convince them, Y/N. We’re all on the same page here, if they see how much this means to you, they will join.’’ She gave you her best reassuring smile, her body language seemingly relaxed. She had no doubt that you were the perfect person for the job. And the Inner Circle knew it too.  

And they were right.  

On your way to work, you made some stops at some shops, talked to the owners and asked them to meet with you in two days' time at the Library. Some had looked skeptical but after telling them what it was about, they instantly agreed. The majority though, had agreed right away. It made you feel all warm and happy inside, to know they respected you enough to take you seriously for this. You only hoped it would continue to go smoothly.  

You opted not to mention that the high lord and high lady would be there. If some of them were anything like you, they would decline out of fear. Or maybe they wouldn't have, and it would have motivated them, who knows but you didn't mention their assistance and hope it didn't come and bite you in the ass.  

You did that for the rest of the day and when the sun started to go down, you closed the shop and made your way home. A sigh of relief leaving your lips that the day was almost over. You needed to seriously organize if you were going to juggle this event plus work plus your family all at the same time. Thinking about how you were going to do that, you failed to notice someone had joined your walk and was walking beside you.  

‘’You should really pay more attention to your surroundings’.  

The scream that left your mouth would’ve put a scared child to shame. You moved your hands frantically as if looking for something to hit or push, preferably the someone who had scared you. But it wasn't just anyone, no.. 

It was a 6’2ft tan, Illyrian warrior whose wings could easily hide someone, with the most beautiful hazel eyes that made you feel all sorts of things... like distress at the moment.  

Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. You spoke before you could analyze what had just occurred. 

‘’What the heck is wrong with you?!’’  

He couldn't hide his amusement, a small smile on the corner of his mouth. His shadows flew circles around you as if they were too laughing at you. His response to your outburst was to raise an eyebrow.  

Which quickly made you stop your walking and realize that you had just screamed at the freaking Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court.  

Great. 

If he thought you had a death wish well, there was no way to prove him wrong.  

You shook your head and managed to get out a ‘’I-I’m sorry. I’m not actually implying there's something wrong with you! You just scared me, you appeared out of freaking nowhere, I didn't even hear you!’’.  

‘’I’m a spy, it's part of my job’’. 

Right yes, that made sense. What didn't make sense is why he was walking you home when you’ve seen him just the day before. Your thoughts went..there. 

Did they regret your alliance (if you could call it that) and now wanted to kill you? Perhaps the High Lord thought you would squeak to everyone how he had apologized and now wanted your head.  

‘’I’m not going to murder you, Y/N’’. If Azriel wouldn't have found the situation amusing, he would actually feel disappointed that you still managed to think they- he was going to hurt you.  

He said your name. Out loud. You couldn't remember him saying it out loud and Mother did you love the way it sounded coming from him. Gods, you felt pathetic.  

You exhaled. ‘’ I know that.’’ Clearing your throat and looking away from his pretty eyes, you asked him, trying to understand what was happening . ‘’What are you doing here?’’.  

He found that he didn't like when you weren't looking at him. He enjoyed observing your expressions and figuring out what you were thinking. Not that there was much to figure out since you were an open book. He slowly resumed the walk, waiting for you to catch up before replying.  

‘’Feyre sent me to check how it went with gathering the troops.’’  

A lie. Nor Feyre or Rhys had sent him but you didn't know that. You didn't need to know that he enjoyed your company, it was refreshing. He enjoyed that you didn't know anything about him except his title, enjoyed that you didn't even try to know his business and every step he took.  It was also great to be away from so many happy couples when he didn’t have that. And you didn’t either.  

Troops. He made it sound like you were going into battle, jeez.  

You were glad you weren't looking at him so he couldn't see the small quirk in your face that revealed you were hurt. It hurt you a little to know that he was only there with you because he was ordered to.  

Well, what other reason did he have? None, to you at least. Besides this ‘’job’’, there was nothing else you could offer him, nothing else that tied you together.  

‘’Right.’’ You cleared your throat once again and resumed walking with him next to you.  

‘’It went well. I think’’ You fidgeted with your fingers. ‘’The majority said they would go to the meeting. Not sure if all of them will help with anything but I’m hopeful they’ll at least attend.’’  

He nodded. ‘’Anyone we should be worried about?’’ 

The thought made you chuckle, and you looked at him. ‘’If you think an old baker with an affinity to touch everything is a threat, then yes. You should be worried.’’ You motioned to his siphons that seemed to glow exceptionally pretty against the light of the sunset. ‘’I would put those away just in case.’’  

The smile you gave him made him feel..things. Things he hadn’t felt since he lost his chance with a certain Archeron sister. Things that made him want to get you to smile like that again.  

‘’Noted.’’  

You nodded and looked away from him to pay attention to the street. Knowing your luck, you would trip over air and fall on your face in front of him. Thankfully that didn’t happen.  

You didn’t have a clue what was supposed to happen next to be frank. The conversation seemed to be over since you told him what he was there for.  

So, why did he continue to walk you home? You didn't know if he knew that was were you were headed but he still accompanied you for the rest of the walk.  

You wondered how it must've looked. A 5’5ft nervous, average looking female walking next to a 6’2ft handsome male with wings on the streets of Velaris. With the sun going down behind them. Did it look as silly as you felt?  

Nonetheless, you decided to stop questioning it because it only made your head hurt and spent the rest of the walk enjoying his quiet company and listening to the buzz of the streets around you. His silence wasn't uncomfortable, which surprised you. You often felt uncomfortable around people you didn't know and especially if they weren’t yapping your ear out like you would often do.  

No, you quite enjoyed the peace his silence provided. It was also different from the silence that often accompanied you in your office, if Sabrina wasn’t conversing with you about anything.  

This was...nice. You hoped he wasn’t feeling awkward.  

He wasn’t. Azriel was also enjoying it. Although secretly, he liked it more when you were talking to him. Which is why, once you’d made it to your house, he noticed the different house materials thrown around and asked.  

‘’Renovating?’’  

You cursed under your breath and sighed. Of course, he noticed the state of your messy house. Like you promised to yourself, you started working on the backyard finally and noticed you were missing stuff so you bought them and instead of placing it where it belongs in the backyard, you had thrown it in front of your front door (quite literally) because you were late to work.  

You had forgotten about it until now.  

‘’Umm, something like that?’’ You rushed to open your front door so you could push the materials inside. Something you should've done that morning in the first place.  

‘’I’m actually making this..thing. Like a patio? On my backyard. These are just some things I left here by accident.’’ You said while pushing some of it inside with your foot.  

Noticing how heavy a particular item was, Azriel picked it up and asked: ‘’Where to?’’.  

You only looked at him, flabbergasted, all words seem to fly over your head. ‘’Um--’’ 

He smiled internally, feeling glad he was able to make you feel whatever it was you felt. He raised an eyebrow, an amusing look in his eyes appearing once again.  

Right. ‘’Just-you can put it here in the living room, its fine.’’ You motioned inside and stepped away so he could walk in. Praying to the Mother that the inside of your house was decent. You couldn't remember if you had put away the clean clothes.. 

But he knew that’s not where the item was supposed to go so he suggested ‘’I can put it outside if it’s gonna be easier for you’’.  

And indeed, it would be easier for you but that would also entail having him walk all the way to your backyard which was an even bigger mess. Plus, it would mean a couple more minutes with him. Did you want that? 

Obviously. But you tried not to show it.  

‘’Um- sure. Yeah, thanks that would be great.’’  

And you would never forget the scene of him trying to walk through your house with his wings, not wanting to collide with anything.  

Trying to contain your amusement, you quickly stepped up and showed him the way to your backyard. Thankful he couldnt see your face.  

‘’Here it's fine.’’ 

You said once you made it outside to your yard. Motioning to the other supplies on the floor.  

He nodded and placed it next to them. He took a look around your backyard and gave you a single nod. ‘’Looks like a big project.’’  

‘’It is.’’ You nodded and also looked around. Your brother’s face and enthusiasm to be a part of it popped in your brain, dampening your mood for a second. 

Azriel saw it and he wanted to ask, really wanted to ask about the reason of your expression but held back. He didn't know you and you didn't know him. And he clearly made you nervous, so he wasn’t going to push it.  

At this point, you didn't know what else to do or say so you looked at him and said ‘’Well, thank you. Um- you can tell the High Lady that everyone will be there.’’ 

Accepting this as a goodbye, for now, he nodded and said ‘’Goodnight’’.  

And that was all you got before he disappeared. Literally.  

Eyebrows raised, widened eyes, you spinned and looked everywhere for him. He just...disappeared?  

Well, then.  

At least you made it. You actually managed a normal conversation with Azriel. Right? That was considered normal.  

If this interaction was a preview of what was to come, you needed to be prepared of anything and everything. Including your surroundings, clearly.  

[cupids-archives]

֢━━━━━━𑄽𑄺₊˚♱ kinks..,! featuring, lucifer. ) made them too long so I had to make them into different parts lolz ) ₊˚♱

contains. (breeding, rope play. praise, pnv, nasty shit. )

𐙚₊˚⊹ ֢━━ your sex life starts off very awkward, not due to lack of experience on his part, it’s just he’s never been with someone like you before or had someone squeeze around his cock like you. when your sex life starts to speed up so do his true kinks.. ઇ ࣭ ࣪

֢━━━━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 BREEDING... ઇ

֢ ☆ ⊹ not exactly to get you pregnant but likes the comforting feeling of cumming inside you, especially when your moaning for him not to pull out. -

☆ he especially when it comes to certain positions, loves doggystyle because he can see how your body react to every thrust, and when he finally orgasms, he can see his cum drip out of your swollen pussy before shoving himself back in. -

☆ loves how inflated your stomach gets after your the third to fifth round, loves to use his dick as a plug and just cuddle with you after, rubbing his hands around your lower stomach.

☆ if you seriously don’t want him to cum inside, he might consider it but if he does anyway, he’ll just blame it on how tight you were squeezing his cock. but he’ll still make it up to you by “cleaning” it off with his tongue. <3

֢━━ “mm’ fuck baby, your so cute like this,” his cock bullies itself inside you again, and you’re already lost count of how many times you’ve came already, his dick constantly hitting that sweet spot inside you. with your legs thrown over his shoulders for the entire time of him fucking you, he’s pushed your body into different positions, each position deeper than the last. “a-angel-fuck, I’m gonna cum.” his fingers find your hair as he pulls you in for a kiss, your stomach swells with pleasure as you both cum, your sweet juices combining. he moves your body once more, now your laying on your stomach with your back slightly arched, his cock already slipping inside the messy entrance - ready for another round ֢━━

֢━━━━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 BONDAGE. ઇ

₊˚♱ his fascination with you tied up started off rather innocent, while when you got stuck in something, he would always try to help you before going to take care of himself.

₊˚♱ loves that worried look you have when your tied up under him, even more when you beg for him to stop but can’t do anything to push him off.

₊˚♱ he loves tying you up in different positions , tying your hands behind your back, and using it as leverage while he’s fucking you. or while your bouncing on his dick, trying to ask him for help out of exhaustion.

₊˚♱ or even while your sucking him off, your hands behind your back and you can only use your mouth, he loves seeing that scared face while you choke on his cock.

֢━━ “luci- p-please,” your pleases and cries fall on deaf ears. his fingers rub against your clit, his tongue licking up the juices falling from your messy pussy. you struggle against the rope keeping your hands bound, uncomfortably tied behind you. Finally he stops his assault against your pussy, putting his hands against your hips, stilling you. “can you stay still for me love?” his voice unbearably sweet, “p-please luci, ‘s too mu-uch” one of his hand drift down to your clit, starting to rub against your pussy, then slipping inside the messy hole, your back arches, letting out sweet mewls as you cum on his fingers.

֢━━━━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 PRAISE... ઇ

₊˚♱ adores praise, whether your praising him or he is to you.

₊˚♱ adores when he eats you and you tell him how good he is, it’s good inspiration to make you cum all over his face.

₊˚♱ for him, he’ll praise you while he’s fucking you, while cockwarming, or even just everyday life. you cannot do wrong in his eyes so it’s only right he lets you know that.

₊˚♱ likes to whisper soft praises in your ear while he’s fucking you particularly rough, fucking your messy little cunt while telling you how good you are for him.

₊˚♱ even when your riding him or giving him a blowjob, will let you know how good you are, and how you make him feel so good.

֢━━ his face is buried in your neck, kissing up and down the already bruised skin as his fingers drift around your body, he rolls your clit in his fingers. “your doing so well for me darling”, he drags his lips up and down your neck, leaving soft kisses and bite marks. his hands slide up and down your already wet folds. “your so wet love, all for me.” his fingers slide into your cunt, moving in and out than curving his fingers, hitting that sensitive spot inside. the curve and hit the same delicious spot. your hands instinctively try to push him off, “move your hand and take it baby,” before starting to rub your clit as well. ֢━━

honorable mention : + corruption ₊˚♱

֢━━ his lips softly meets yours, he starts to lay soft kisses on your chin to your jaw going down until he’s pinching and sucking on your nipples. his dick lays hard inside you, not moving but still making you feel full. “p-please move luci”, he stops his motions to chuckle slightly, “aw, does my little girl want me to fuck her?” you shake your head rapidly, his chuckling causes vibrations causing even more stimulation to your edged cunt. “wanna’ cum p-please” he looks at you warmly, angling his hips slightly, just enough to brush against your clit, “look at you darling, you used to be so shy, guess your my little slut now huh?” he kissed your neck one more time, before starting to move. roughly thrusting into your puffy pussy. ֢━━

©cupids-archives . requests are open !!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Party Favors, Bribes, and Sharks

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!(goth!)fem!reader

Summary: When Tim finally invites you to meet his friends, it takes more than party favors and promises to convince you to go.

Warnings: fluff, brief depiction of anxiety/nervousness, teasing

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“What are you wearing?” Tim asks, frozen in the open doorway.

“A shark,” you answer softly. “It’s a hammerhead.”

Tim presses his tongue against his cheek and nods. He’s seen you in nearly every outfit imaginable over the last year, except for bright colors… or, as it seems, sharks.

“I didn’t know your fascination had extended to clothing,” he mumbles as he finally closes the door.

“It’s a hooded blanket,” you explain. “And it was on sale.”

Tim nods again, unable to take you seriously with the plush hammerhead pulled over your hair or the patterned sleeves your arms are in. He drops his bag and sighs as he sits beside you. It’s been nearly a week since you saw him. As you offer him one side of your shark blanket, he smiles.

“We solved the case,” he says, laying your blanket over one of his legs.

“I knew you would,” you murmur, looking at his neck rather than his face.

“And we decided to have a little get-together to celebrate.”

You hum, straightening the edge of the blanket along Tim’s thigh.

“You should come,” he adds, placing his hand atop yours.

Frozen, you pinch your brows and consider what he said. You’ve been dating for about a year but haven’t met any of his friends or coworkers yet. For good reason, you think.

“Funny,” you whisper, looking away from Tim.

“I’m serious,” Tim assures. “I’m inviting you to the… Lucy’s calling it a party. You can meet everyone.”

You look at the television screen, the rainy night ambiance video threatening to weaken your resolve. “Tim,” you begin. “I’d rather eat my own eyes."

Tim tips his head back and laughs, not at you or your shyness, but at your graphic response. You’re all things darkness, but Tim knows the softness and shyness lying underneath.

“C’mon, you have to come with me.”

“No, I don’t.”

Tim sighs before he turns toward you and places his hands on your sides. “If you come with me, I’ll get you fresh strawberries from that farmer’s market in Santa Monica you love so much.”

Your eyes widen at the idea. Those strawberries are the best things you’ve ever had. Unconsciously, your hand raises to your neck, and you toy with the strawberry charm tucked beneath your other jewelry.

“We can go this weekend and buy as many as you want,” Tim continues. “Maybe even eat some on the beach.”

“I… Tim, I can’t just go,” you argue softly.

“Yes, you can. Listen, I promise that everything will be completely fine. This isn’t a huge thing, it’s casual, you can be yourself.”

You scoff and look down at Tim’s arms.

“I’m serious,” he says firmly. “They’re going to love you. So, if you’re just nervous about them not liking you, that’s not enough of a reason to say no.”

You purse your lips to think. It’s not fair that Tim knows you so well or is willing to use your love of strawberries against you.

“Fine,” you whisper. “But if it doesn’t go well, I stand by my eye-eating comment.”

“I have no doubt of that.”

The day of Mid-Wilshire’s celebratory party, you’re a mess. From the moment you wake up, you’re stressing about every little thing and growing more nervous. You peruse your closet, then turn to Pinterest for outfit ideas, but you keep questioning what Tim meant when he said casual. His casual and your casual are very different, and you don’t want to wear the wrong thing and make the night even more nerve-wracking or awkward than you’re sure it will already be.

“Breathe,” you remind yourself.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and exit your room. After a break in which you have a snack, watch a short shark documentary, and wave to your neighbor’s cat out the window, you return to your closet. This time, the outfit seems to jump out at you.

As you lay a pair of baggy jeans on your bed, the rest of the look falls together effortlessly. You choose a black sweater with a skeleton made of stars, black Converse with colorful jewels on the laces, and your daily rings and necklaces. The strawberry charm Tim got you on one of your first dates gets lost among the dark, gothic jewelry, but you know it’s there.

With an outfit picked, your heart rate slows, and your nervousness eases slightly. There’s plenty you could be concerned about, but your question will be answered soon enough.

“Worst case scenario,” you murmur as you straighten your outfit in the mirror. “They hate me, and Tim leaves me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Tim says, suddenly behind you. You turn quickly, and he pulls you into a hug. “You’re perfect, and everything is going to be fine.”

“You can’t know that,” you complain against his arm.

“I brought you something to help convince you.” Tim steps back and pulls his backpack off the floor. “I’ve been holding onto this for a special occasion, and this seems like a good time.”

You watch as Tim pulls a stuffed animal out of his bag. You want to make a joke, but then you see what it is. The shark plushy is colored like a strawberry; it combines your two favorite things in the world. Things that Tim knows make you melt. Your shyness and worry are forgotten as you hug the strawberry shark to your chest.

“This is like Halloween!” you cheer.

“You mean Christmas?” Tim counters.

“I mean my favorite day of the year.”

Tim nods, kisses your forehead, then steps around you to get ready. As you wait with your shark, you allow yourself to be distracted. When Tim returns a few minutes later, you reluctantly set the stuffed animal on your bed and pat its back.

“Thank you,” you tell Tim. “I love him.”

“Is that why he’s in my spot?” Tim inquires with a knowing smile.

You smile and look down, clasping your hands together behind your back. Until you get to the party, you won’t know what to expect. You’ve heard Tim talk about everyone in attendance, but that’s different than meeting them, seeing them face-to-face, and allowing them to judge you. These people mean something to Tim; they’re his family, and if they don’t like you, there might be a risk of losing him.

“Are you ready to go?” Tim asks, offering his hand.

“Is it down to that or eating my eyes?” you question.

“Yes, and I happen to like your eyes.”

You grumble under your breath and take Tim’s hand. He leads you to his truck and whispers that everything will be fine. You try to believe him.

Halfway through the drive, your leg bounces so hard that the entire seat shakes. Tim turns, then places his hand on your knee, brushing his thumb over your leg. He has seen you nervous, but never like this.

“You’re fine,” he promises.

“What if they-“

“They’re going to love you.”

“But I don’t want to-“

“We’re here.”

You look up from Tim’s hand and sink in your seat. He squeezes your knee gently, opens his door, and rounds the truck to help you get out.

“Tim,” you whisper.

“I got you,” he promises, smiling despite your obvious concern. “Trust me, and then we’ll go get strawberries.”

“I like my rocks better than you,” you complain quietly, sliding out of the truck.

“Remind me who found your favourite rock.”

You huff, unwilling to acknowledge that the rock that looks like it’s covered in raindrops is your favourite or that Tim found it in your backyard. He takes your hand and leads you to the door. When you step behind him, Tim allows you to pull his hand with you, reaching behind his back to comfort you. Although, he knows you won’t need a buffer.

“Tim! You made it!” a woman cheers as the door opens. She gasps and drops her voice to add, “And you finally brought her!”

Tim lifts the hand not trapped in yours toward her, and you assume he motions for her to take it easy on you. Your eyes are on his back muscles, visible through his shirt, rather than anything or anyone around you.

“I was beginning to question if I’d see a night off,” another voice says.

“Tell me about it! Especially when Oscar called.”

Everyone groans, and you look up, still hidden behind Tim but able to see some people in the room. They’re dressed casually, you notice, and one of them is wearing an outfit similar to yours, minus the skeleton design.

“What?” Tim asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” the woman who opened the door answers.

You step to the left and raise your chin, accidentally locking eyes with her. She smiles but doesn’t move toward you or speak. You appreciate it and return her smile.

“Thanks for letting me come,” you say before introducing yourself.

After you say thanks, she moves to your side and pulls you away from Tim. Away from him and the others, she directs you to sit with her.

“I’m Angela, and I’ve been waiting so long to meet you. When Tim slipped and told me he had a girlfriend, I, well, I didn’t believe him at first, but I’ve never seen him like this,” she explains. “He’s been so happy with you! He refused to show me pictures, but you’re even prettier than I expected.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly. “Sorry, I’m not great at, uh, anything interpersonal.”

“Then you’re perfect for Tim.”

You laugh at her friendly teasing and are surprised when you fall into a short but easy conversation with her about how you met Tim.

“Give her some room, Lopez,” Tim calls from the doorway.

“It’s okay,” you tell him.

“Yeah, Timothy,” Angela replies. “It’s okay. It won’t be once she meets Nolan and Lucy, but I’m her new best friend, so you need to watch your back, Bradford.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he nods. He waves for you and Angela to join the others when you’re ready, then retreats around the corner again.

“I’m still nervous,” you admit to Angela.

“Well, now you have me. Just remember these two things: one, Nolan never shuts up, but he doesn’t actually say much.” She pauses as you chuckle, then raises another finger to add, “And we all tease each other, but there’s nothing except respect and care between us. You’re going to fit right in, I promise.”

“As my best friend?”

Angela loops her arm through yours after you stand and replies, “You understand already.”

You sit between Tim and Angela at the table, and less than ten seconds after she joins you, Tim's friends begin asking questions.

“Guys,” Angela interrupts. “Okay, this is Lucy, Nolan, Wade, Nyla, her husband James, and my fantastic husband, Wesley.”

“Why did he get a fantastic husband?” James challenges.

“You heard me.”

“Okay, how did you meet Tim?” Lucy inquires.

“We just ran into each other,” you answer nervously.

“Did he ask you out?” Nolan adds.

You nod, and they continue taking turns to better understand your relationship with Tim. A few minutes into the conversation, your answers are louder and contain more words.

“What’s your favorite animal?” Wade asks in the first lapse of silence.

“Sharks,” you and Tim answer together.

“Tim!” Lucy exclaims, clapping her hands together.

You laugh and realize at that moment that Tim was right. His friends are chill, open, and seem to like you.

“I don’t get why you’re with Tim,” Nyla tells you on the way out, “but I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Me too,” you answer. “I’ll see you around.”

“Count on it!” James calls.

Tim helps you into the truck and then reaches into the backseat. He passes you the new strawberry shark, and you clutch it tightly.

“Your friends are great,” you tell him.

“I tried to tell you,” he responds lightly. “And they’re your friends now, too.”

“I like that.”

Tim nods and murmurs, “You didn’t like it before I agreed to get you strawberries and watch Halloween movies.”

“We’re watching Halloween movies, too?!”

[moonmaiden1996]

Do you have some hcs for Law (he's my favorite 🥰)? Romance, dating, sexuality would be nice😙

Law takes time to let someone into his life romantically. He’s cautious and observes from a distance before making a move. “You’re... persistent,” he smirked, a rare glimmer of amusement breaking through his guarded demeanor.

Once he trusts someone, Law’s actions start showing his affection in subtle ways. “Here. I noticed you kept forgetting to grab your gloves before heading out.” He quietly leaves a new pair of gloves by your side without making a big deal of it.

His love language leans heavily on actions rather than outright declarations of love. “I tightened the straps on your gear. It wasn’t secure enough,” he says while pretending it’s purely for practical reasons, though it’s clear he cares.

Law prefers intimate, understated dates rather than grand displays of affection. “There’s a quiet spot on the next island where the stars are supposed to be brighter. Let’s check it out after we finish up here.”

A perfect date for Law often includes deep conversations that stimulate his mind. “You think the Will of D is connected to the Void Century? Interesting. I’ve thought about that too, but there’s not enough evidence yet,” his eyes lighting up as he leans into the discussion.

Law has a sly sense of humor that comes out once he’s comfortable with someone. “So, that was your grand strategy back there? Bold move. Reckless... but bold,” he says, grinning slightly as he shakes his head.

Law’s connections need depth and trust before becoming intimate. “I don’t... rush into things like this. If you’re okay with that, we’ll figure it out together,” his voice soft and unmistakably vulnerable.

He thrives on mutual trust and a sense of safety in relationships. “Tell me if something’s wrong. I can’t fix what I don’t know,” his voice steady, but there’s genuine concern in his eyes.

Law pays attention to what you need or enjoy, ensuring you feel cared for. “You looked tired, so I brought this tea. It’s supposed to help with headaches. Drink it while it’s warm.”

His compliments or expressions of interest are understated but meaningful. “You handled that sword pretty well. Who taught you?” he asks, a faint smirk playing on his lips, though the compliment is sincere.

Law’s gaze often conveys what his words don’t. He doesn’t say anything, but his sharp golden eyes linger on you during a quiet moment. When you notice, he looks away with a slight smirk.

His unpolished approach to personal matters can be surprisingly endearing. “Why are you smiling like that? Did I say something strange?” he asks, genuinely confused, but his awkwardness only makes him more charming.

Law takes commitment seriously and sees you as part of his crew and life. “You’re not just a passing thought to me. I don’t do things halfway, especially not with you,” he says in a low, determined voice.

He deeply appreciates someone who understands his larger goals. “I won’t stop until we’ve destroyed what’s broken in this world. If you’re with me... then stay with me,” his voice firm, almost like a plea.

You become an integral part of his crew. “The crew already likes you. Don’t make me regret letting them spoil you,” he says with mock annoyance, though there’s an affectionate undertone.

Law prefers rational discussions over heated arguments. “I’m not going to argue with you. Let’s talk when we’re both calm,” he says, walking away momentarily but always coming back to resolve the issue.

He listens to reason when you present a strong argument. “Fine. You’re right about this one. But don’t get used to it,” he concedes, crossing his arms but flashing a small grin.

NSFW

Law is someone who thrives on trust and emotional connection, and that extends to his physical relationships as well. He’s not the type to rush things—he likes to take his time to really understand his partner's needs and desires. His approach to intimacy is patient, thoughtful, and a little commanding.

Given his personality, Law likely enjoys positions that allow for a deep connection with his partner. He would prefer something that feels intimate, where he can be close and in control but still maintain that tender closeness. Positions like missionary or modified spooning could be his go-to. In missionary, he can look directly into his partner’s eyes, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. Plus, he can hold them close, feeling their body press against his—a comforting reminder that they’re his safe space.

Modified spooning would be another favorite of his—it allows him to feel in control but still intimately close, with his hands free to caress or explore his partner’s body. The closeness would appeal to him, as he enjoys feeling the heat of your body against him as his hips push against your ass. His hand slides along your skin as he cups your breast and buries his head in your neck.

Law likes to savor every moment, paying close attention to how his partner reacts to his touch. He’s not the type to rush into anything; he wants to make sure his partner is fully comfortable and engaged before moving forward. He loves exploring every inch of them, perhaps starting with gentle caresses, whispering soft words of encouragement, and gauging how they feel. The buildup is essential for him; he wants you begging before he even slides inside you.

While Law enjoys being the dominant partner, he is not overly aggressive. His control is subtle—a soft but firm hand guiding things along. He can be a little rough when necessary, enjoying having you at his mercy, completely under his control. He might pin your hands above your head, leaning down to whisper commands in your ear—sliding himself in deeper, not moving, just ever so slightly nudging against your G-spot, not moving until you’re a quivering mess beneath him.

He doesn’t say much at first, but as things heat up, his words become more frequent and pointed. He might tell you what he wants, whispering, “Let me hear you,” or “You’re doing so well,” as his hands move expertly over your body. The praise is genuine, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down your spine. This man is a grunter, so be ready for deep grunts.

He enjoys kissing deeply—not just on the lips but along your neck and shoulders, leaving soft, lingering touches that make you feel wanted and adored. His hands are a little rough from years of handling weapons, but they’re still capable of making you feel like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Let’s not forget how good his rough fingers will feel against your clit.

His neck and jawline are sensitive, and while he doesn’t often ask for attention there, he appreciates when someone takes the time to kiss or nibble lightly. It’s a tender spot for him, so when you do this, the man is putty in your hands.

Law is the type who wants to make sure his partner is as satisfied as he is. He won’t stop until he knows you cannot move. He will be taking the time to figure out what works best for you, whether it’s through his hands, his lips, or his thick cock. He’s attentive, observant, and doesn’t shy away from exploring what feels good for both of you.

Omg I love this! I just had to write it. Keep sending asks, any character, any ask?

[imfinereallyy]

Dinner Date

For STWG daily drabble and, more importantly, for Goldie @steventhusiast. Happy Birthday, you deserve the world. I know you’re asleep right now, but it’s technically still your bday here. 

“Dingus, this is a really fancy restaurant.” Robin leans back in her chair, but her hand plays with the fork on her napkin. 

Steve sips his wine; some of it tips over the edge onto the tablecloth. “What? Can’t a guy take his best friend out to a fancy dinner?” He tilts his head and takes in his best friend. What was once an awkward teen now had a beautiful, but still awkward, woman in her place. 

“Steve, I love our friend dates, but usually they take place in a greasy diner or dollar pizza.” Robin picks the fork up and starts twirling it into her napkin. Steve watches her get mesmerized by the wrinkles that wrapped around the silverware, even though they both know the napkin should be in her lap by now. 

Steve smiles softly, moves his napkin from his lap to the table, and begins to mimic Robin. “Okay, maybe I wanted it to be a special occasion.”

Robin giggles at Steve's poor fork-twirling form and leans over the table to fix it for him. “All occasions are special when we are together, so that doesn’t really mean much.” Robin’s nose scrunches in concentration as she gently guides Steve’s hand. She has done this plenty of times before, guiding Steve where he needed to be. Like taking him to the bookstore near her college so he wouldn’t have to go into sex with Eddie blind, or when she taught him how to whisk eggs properly. Both are equally important skills he now uses in his everyday life. “But you seemed nervous. You keep sipping your wine, and I know for a fact that you hate dry wine.”

Steve puts down the glass that was halfway to his mouth, “It’s not my fault Moscato tastes like candy!”

Robin snorts, “Seriously, Dingus. It’s just me. What’s up?”

Steve puts down the fork and his glass and looks Robin in the eye. “I wanted to ask you to be my best man.”

Steve expects a lot of reactions out of her: excitement, an eye roll, hell, even straight-up rejection. Maybe a little speech about how weddings for them aren’t even legal. Instead, a look of betrayal crosses her face. “You asked Eddie to marry you, and you didn’t even tell me you were proposing?”

Immediately, Steve clenches his stomach in outrageous laughter, nearly having to bend over the table. Steve tries to take Robin seriously; he really does. But she is supposed to be the smart one out of the two of them. 

Rage takes over Robin completely as she reaches over the table to start slapping Steve’s arm. “Don’t laugh, you asshat! I am actually mad at you!”

“Ow—” Steve laughs. “Ow, Robin!” Another giggle escapes him as he gets her to sit back in her chair. “I’m laughing because, of course, I didn’t propose to Eddie without talking to you first.”

Robin settles a bit at this, “I’m confused.”

Steve reaches for her hand across the table; Robin doesn’t hesitate to wrap her fingers around his. “I’m asking you to be my Best Man first, doofus. Before I even pick out the damn ring. Which I definitely need you to steal one of Eddie’s rings for me so I can get the size; man watches those things like a hawk.” 

Robin squeezes his hand, “Wait, why would you ask me that first? Isn’t that kind of backwards.”

“I do everything kind of backwards, babe. Kinda the Steve Harrington special.” Steve rubs a thumb against the back of soulmate's hand. “Of course, I ask you about being my best man first. There would be no wedding without you, so if you say no, there would be no proposing.”

Steve could see tears beginning to fill Robin’s eyes, “What are you saying?”

“Whoever gets stuck with me gets stuck with you. We’re a package deal, babe.” 

Robin throws herself across the table, knocking the wine everywhere. Steve laughs and clenches her tightly. “Of course, I’ll be your best man! Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t hurt yourself going down the aisle.” She sobs.

Steve’s throat gets thick, “Pretty sure that’s the father's job, Robs. And you’d have to fight Jim for that role.”

“Fine.” Robin sniffs, leaning back to look him in the eye. “But I get stand by your side as you make a complete fool of yourself with your vows.” 

“Deal.”

Robin leans forward, placing her forehead against Steve’s. “You and me against the world, babe.”

Steve hugs her tight, “You and me against the world.”

[melanchol1cs]

CHERRY FLAVORED

childhood friend!leon x reader

wc: 1.6k summary: sweet and sour motivation, wish i could keep concentration. masterlist | taglist | wips

no warnings. just alot of angst, mentions of marriage, cheating/infidelity, kissing. based on ‘cherry flavored’ by the neighborhood.

a/n: daddy’s home ;) super happy to be back, missed you guys so much mwaa! so i was actually working on this piece before i decided to take a break and i’m super happy i finally finished. but be warned, this doesn’t make any sense and i strongly encourage you to ignore the grammatical errors and my horrible writing. p.s. i swear the next part of ltts is almost done, just need to fix a few things and proofread (yes, this is for u @lottiies)

he had always liked cherries.

ever since you we’re kids, he would go out of his way just for those silly fruits.

you used to tease him about how much he loved them, but deep down, you enjoyed his enthusiasm too. he claims to remember how cherries were your favorite too, which is why he'd share his stash with you, and you'd pretend to savor each bite, even though they always made your face scrunch up in an exaggerated grimace.

you never really liked cherries. you found them too sticky, too sweet, but you had always made an effort for his sake.

the sticky fingers and cherry pits were all worth it though, just to see that slight, knowing smile on your face when you humored him. those small, secret moments were like little treasures he'd collect in his heart, each one more precious than the last.

he remembered the times when they'd steal a few from the farmer's market, giggling as the juice stained your fingers and lips. now, as adults, the habit remained. sometimes, on late summer mornings like these, he'd swing by your place with a bag of fresh cherries, a nostalgic smile on his face.

"hey," he'd say softly, as you opened the door to greet him, the sunlight catching the wisps of hair escaping your bun.

"thought you might like these. still got a sweet tooth, right?" he'd hand over the bag, watching as your expression transform from a sleepy haze to something short of appreciation.

“leon,” you rub your eyes begrudgingly, stepping aside as to let him in. “it’s like.. six in the morning. you can’t keep doing this,”

“i know, i know,” he chuckled, stepping into the dimly lit foyer, the overpowering scent of the fruit carrying over to you. "sorry, couldn’t help myself," he said with a shrug, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "old habits die hard, you know." he set the bag of cherries down on the entry table, the red fruit seeming to glow in the morning light that filtered through the front window.

“no, seriously.” you deflect, hands on your hips.

“you’re getting married next month, leon.”

he winced at the reminder, his free hand raking through his hair. "i know," he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

his smile faltered slightly, the corners of his mouth dipping into a small, regretful frown. the cheerfulness draining from his features like water down a drain.

"can't wait." he forced a smile, but you were certain it looked more like grimace. "ada’s been planning everything for months... i’m just along for the ride at this point." he laughs awkwardly, trying to deflect the underlying tension in the air. but he trailed off, unsure of what to say next, the words sticking in his throat like a cherry pit.

he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. his eyes dart away from yours, unable to hold your gaze any longer. he fidgets with the strap of his bag, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“okay,” you try to ease the awkwardness. “do you.. wanna go sit on the porch? i can make us coffees,”

a small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he looks up at you, some of the tension dissipating from his frame. "coffee sounds great, thanks,"

he follows you to the kitchen, the silence between you thickening like a dense fog that clung to the trees outside. he’s perched on one of the bar stools, his long legs stretching out before him as he watched you move around the kitchen with practiced ease. the morning light highlighted the subtle lines of fatigue around your eyes, the tiny creases on your forehead, your shoulders hunched slightly in a gesture of quiet contemplation.

you hand him a steaming cup of coffee, the warmth of it seeping into your palms as you slid it across the counter. he took a sip, the flavor both bitter and sweet on his tongue. a small, contented sigh escaped him, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation.

“c’mon,” you tilt your head towards the door, and he’s quick to follow behind.

the morning air is crisp against his skin as he stepped outside, the chill of it seeping into his bones. he followed you to the porch steps, its wooden planks worn smooth with years of use. the world seemed to come alive in the golden glow of dawn, the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze and the smell of petrichor carried by the wind.

he sat down beside you, the cool wood biting into his thighs as he shifted to get comfortable. you were quiet for a moment, the only sound being the soft crunch of cherries as he munched on the fruit. his fingers stained a deep red from the juice, the color matching the rosy hue of your cheeks in the soft morning light.

"i— i know i shouldn't keep doing this, i'm not supposed to still have feelings for you." his words trailed off, lost in the gentle lapping of the breeze against the porch railing.

he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "but i do." he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "i always have. and i probably always will,”

“leon,”

"you're still my best friend, you know? my person." he let out a short laugh, the sound a little shaky. “and—“

“leon.” you know what’s about to come next, and you don’t know if you can handle it.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“i…” he lets out a strangled laugh, the bitterness of it written plainly across his features. “i’m sorry, don’t know why i’m like this,” he bowed his head, his elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands, his long fingers tangling in his hair. “i’m awful.”

“yeah,” you scoff, offering a pitiful smile. “yeah, you are.”

he laughed mirthlessly at your words, the sound raw and broken. “i know." he shook his head, his hair swishing against his wrists.

"never thought i was good for you, ‘ts why i stayed away for so long." he laughs bitterly, the sound hollow and empty. "i thought i could move on, forget about you.” he breathes, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own inadequacies.

he turned to you, his eyes, normally a bright, warm blue, were dark and heavy-lidded, the rims a deep shade of red. "please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling of the leaves. "just one kiss. for the sake of what we could've been."

"please?” he repeated, his hands dropping to his knees, fingers curling like he wanted to crawl towards you and envelop you in his arms. your shoulders form something short of a shrug, your mouth dry, unable to respond.

he leaned in, hands coming to cup your cheeks, eyes closed, his lips pressed against yours in a soft, chaste press of mouth to mouth. he lingered for a moment, every fiber of his being silently begging you to reciprocate, praying that you'd meet him half way, that you'd kiss him back.

and for a moment, you really do think of doing so, to kiss back and feel him as more than a friend one last time. but you didn't. your lips were cold and unresponsive under his, your body stiff and unyielding. he taste of cherries and bitter regret that eventually seeps into your very core.

the warmth of his breath ghosted against your lips, lingering, yearning. he didn't move away, didn't pull back, just held himself there, suspended in the moment of his foolish hope. after what felt like an eternity, he broke the contact, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

"okay," he whispered, his voice small and defeated. "okay, i get it." he pulled back, sitting up straight and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, the ghost of your lips lingering there. "i shouldn't have..." he trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence.

“know what, i think i should go,” he stood up, his movements stiff and jerky, like a puppet with its strings cut.

“you should,” you swallow.

he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. his eyes downcast, feet shifting nervously on the porch steps. "yeah," he mumbles, voice barely audible. "yeah, probably for the best." he picks up his bag and turns to leave, but hesitates, his hand on the railing. he spares you one last glance, his eyes a deep, aching blue. you look down, not being able to bear the weight of his gaze.

he’s out of sight the next time you look back up.

he doesn’t call or text after that, his visits become infrequent, until he they stop completely.

the world didn't slow down for you, nor did it wait for your heart to catch up. everything seemed to keep spinning, the sun rising and setting, the seasons changing, though your feelings remained stagnant. you tell yourself its for the best, that moving on is inevitable. reality is cruel that way — it never delivers on the promises of our fantasies.

eventually, you’ll start to miss him a little less, the hollow ache in your chest slowly starting to dull. life will move on, and so will you.

though the thought of him would still occasionally cross your mind, it no longer feels like a stab to the chest, but a nostalgic memory from a bygone era. something that could’ve been.

maybe you did like cherries after all.

tags: @crowleyco

[scented-morker]

Enhypen when you’re their Bite Me dance partner

Idol!enha x background dancer reader (they’re female, but I didn’t use any pronouns so can be read as gn) 945 words. ⚠️PSA: just bc idols interact with the other gender doesn’t mean it’s romantic and I am in no way trying to imply that!! This is fanfiction and shouldn’t be taken too seriously!! ⚠️

Heeseung

No because when you first meet him he seems so calm and polite and you’re like “wow this is gonna work out so well”

Because even tho he’s super hot (hello?) He’s not trying to use it on you

But we’re all very familiar with the switch up when he starts performing

suddenly he’s smirking and holding eye contact and just 😳

You feel like you might need to go take a lap and cool off

HAVE YOU SEEN THAT PART IN THE SECOND VERSE WHERE LIKE HE GRABS HIS DANCERS HANDS DOWN HIS CHEST??? (1:39 in the 230602 mubank performance 🫣)

He chills out eventually but the first time he literally made you run your hands down his chest 🫠🫠🫠

“You know you can touch me right?”

He notices your hesitant movements and literally grabs your hands to put them on his neck 🥵

“See that wasn’t so hard was it?” bark bark bark bark bark

Jay

Literally SO respectful

When you guys meet for the first time he goes out of his way to get to know you because he doesn’t want it to be awkward when you start dancing

He keeps it up later too, he always asks “is this okay?” before putting his hands on your back or anything (even when you’ve run the song fifty times)

Every time you come back on stage he gives you a little wink 🫠

And everytime you do the like dip/lean back thing he makes silly faces at you when you come back up 😭

So all the fancams are trying to figure out why you’re laughing in the middle of the dance 😔

Jake

Okay because he’s a flirt and he knows that he should keep it professional with you but you’re just so pretty 🥹 he can’t help it

You notice how he always seems to be touching you a little longer than everyone else

Like Jake the choreographer stopped everyone five minutes ago why are you still holding on 🤨

Always acts like he’s gonna drop you when you lean back in that one part (I hope you know what I’m talking about)

Like he’ll have his hands on your waist and then let go just to watch you drop and then catch you again

(He thinks your angry face is cute when the song ends and you smack him for it)

Bites his lip EVERYTIME on the part where you touch his chin 🫣

Sunghoon

He’s so awkward I’m sorry 😭😭

Like you’re ready to start dancing and make your choreographer proud but he’s really making it hard

You can tell he doesn’t love the idea of touching you (rude 😐) so you try to go a little easier on him

You just lay your hands on him instead of grabbing or anything, and you don’t lean as far back bc he’s not actually holding your waist he’s just putting his hand in front of it 😭

But then the choreographer yells at him because he’s gonna end up dropping you so he has to actually touch you

“Uh is this okay? Where- where should I?”

You try not to laugh at his bashfulness, grabbing his hand and putting it on your waist

“You have to support my back right here okay? Don’t let me fall.”

BUT HES THE ONE WHO FELL (for you) 🤭🤪🤩

Sunoo

Literally made you feel instantly comfortable, he has the least threatening aura ever

He was all “hi! I’m sunoo!! I can’t wait to dance with you 🥰😁”

And you were like ☺️

At one point when you guys had marked it a few times, not actually doing the partner stuff you looked at him and went “are you sure you can hold me up?”

It’s not like he had to hold all of your body weight but like dang you needed some support ya know, and he just moved so gently that you were a little suspicious

This offended him immensely of course, and he picked you up right then and there

Just threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes

“Yeah, I’ll be okay”

okayyyyyyyyyy 🥵

Jungwon

Slow burn x100 bc he’s a responsible and professional leader 👏

He asked Niki about how to better dance with a partner because he didn’t have any experience with it and wants to make sure he does a good job 🥹 (my baby)

He is DETERMINED to make this choreography perfect, and is not afraid to correct you

“Make sure you actually touch my chest when you do that, it doesn’t look as good when you just pretend.”

Okay Jungwon 🤭 I’m sure that’s why 🤭

When he starts really performing with facials and everything you’re literally losing it 😭

Like face burning bright red, what happened to the cute guy you were dancing with for the last month why is he staring into your soul mid dance

One time he touched your knee while you did the like drag up by their chin move and you literally had to take a walk

Riki

He knows what he’s doing okay?

Like I said previously, he’s the only one with experience in partner dancing

So you were worried at first that he’d be shy because you knew he was the youngest one

But then the first time you ran the song together he grabbed your waist and dropped you so low your ponytail wiped the floor 😭😭

He makes SO MUCH eye contact you literally are on the verge of combusting

When the boys point it out he says it’s because he has to watch you to make sure you don’t need anything because that’s what good observant partners do (boys a liarrr)

Since you’re one of the ones that has to start on the ground he always put his jacket on the ground during practice so you wouldn’t hurt your back/shoulders 😭😭

[atypicalamortentia]

Their Reactions To You Reading A Spicy Book

Synopsis - The boys reactions to you reading a spicy book.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - Characters aged 18+!

Word Count - 1.6k.

{Caffeinate Me}

{TikTok}

SEBASTIAN SALLOW walks in on you reading a spicy book in the Undercroft. At first, he’s completely unaware of the contents of the book, that is, until he takes it off you and begins to read the lewd words aloud. Your face heats up as he reads, his eyes wandering to your form every now and then. He stops mid sentence and stares at you, “you’re seriously reading this when I’m right here?” He asks, folding his arms. 

“I thought you were busy!” You exclaim, throwing your arms up into the air. “Besides, it’s just a book.” 

“An extremely raunchy book by the sounds of it,” Sebastian grins, throwing the book onto the conjured sofa you were sitting on. He practically launches himself onto you, kissing you as if his life depended on it. 

When he pulls away from you, Sebastian is grinning like a mad man. “What?” You ask softly, almost breathless from his kiss. 

“Why don’t we enact some of that book out, hm?” He asks with a hum, fingers trailing down to buttons of your blouse. 

“Sebastian!” You gasp, face blushing red. 

“What? Don’t tell me you’re going shy now,” he grinned. “I liked the part where he spat in her mouth. Are you going to let me spit in your mouth, pretty thing?” With wide eyes you find yourself nodding slowly, watching as Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “Then let’s not waste another moment.” 

Let’s just say, after the intense sex that has Sebastian cumming multiple times, he is more intrigued by the books you read.

OMINIS GAUNT is blind, so obviously he can’t see what it is that you’re reading. Sure, he’s enquired about what you read before but you’ve always said they were cheesy romance novels, something you didn’t think he’d be interested in. It’s when you’re reading one evening, next to him in bed, that you feel it’s probably appropriate to tell him what kind of books you’re actually reading. “Ominis, are you awake?” You asked, gently shaking his shoulder to gain his attention. 

He stirs for a moment before sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and facing his head towards your general direction. “What is it sweetheart?” He asks softly. 

“Wanted to tell you about this book I’m reading,” you say shyly, closing the book and placing it on your lap. Ominis nodded as you began explaining the plot to the book: a woman escapes death and is being stalked by a ‘faceless man’ both in her waking and sleeping life. “And then they have rough sex in the shower.”

Ominis’s eyes widen as the words leave your lips, completely not expecting them to fall so effortlessly. He almost choked on his saliva. He was that surprised. “I’m sorry, what?” He asks, wanting to make sure he had heard you properly. 

“They have sex in the shower,” you repeat, an awkward smile on your face. 

“You read smut?” He asks, eyes still wide as his head continues to look in your general direction. You hum at him in response and watch as his face contorts into a sly smile. “So you don’t read cheesy romance novels?”

“Sometimes!” You defend quickly. “But most of the time, it’s smutty goodness.” 

Ominis’s hand finds yours on your lap and he brings it up to his lips, pressing soft kisses to the back of your hand. “Well, do you want to go and have some shower sex?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You pinched your legs together, desperate for some sort of friction between your pulsating cunt. “Use your words baby.”

“Yes please baby,” you whisper back almost breathlessly. 

“Come on then,” he smirked, removing his lips from the back of your hand. “And I promise, you won’t ever be able to read that scene again without thinking of me when we’re finished.”

GARRETH WEASLEY likes to read with you. Finds it’s a nice bonding experience for the two of you, but there is something about the most recent book you had picked up that felt different to him. Yes, the author was different, the writing style was different, but there wasn’t really a plot to it… it was just, porn. You couldn’t help but squeeze your legs together as you got up to a particularly raunchy part of the book, all of which didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. He raises an eyebrow and looks away from the sensual book scene to focus on your face, your own eyebrows knitted together as you squirmed uncomfortably. “Are you okay, pet?” Garreth asks you with a sly grin on his lips. 

“Mhm,” you respond, your hum a slightly higher pitch indicating that you were, in fact, lying to him. 

Removing his arm from around your shoulders, Garreth places a hand on your thigh and squeezes slightly. “Getting a little bit worked up there, sweetheart?” He leans in against your ear, whispering seductively. You can’t help but bite your bottom lip, trying to stop a low groan from emitting from your throat. You place the bookmark into the book and close it, turning to Garreth with a look of desperation on your face. “Do you need some help, bunny?” You nod at him and almost immediately, his fingers hook up your skirt and play with the fabric of your underwear. “You’re so wet darling, maybe we should read spicy books together more often if this is where it’ll lead.” 

Garreth climbed on top of you, pressing his lips to your neck and sucking at your flesh. “Don’t tease me,” you whimper softly, arching your back as Garreth’s fingers prod at your entrance. 

“As you wish, pet,” he growled. Let’s just say, if he was going to fuck you that way everytime, you’d ready smutty books together more often.

LEANDER PREWETT isn’t one for reading, so when you read he usually leaves you to your own devices but today was different. You were sitting in the Room Of Requirement with Leander by your side when a soft noise escapes your lips. Your eyes widen and dart towards your boyfriend who is just as surprised as you are at the noise that slipped past your lips. “What was that?” He asks, obviously teasing you. 

“Don’t know,” came your response as you casted your eyes back down to the pages of your book. 

Leander watches as you turn your attention back to the book in your hand, admiring the way your face scrunches up as you mime the words. Leander was interested now. “Whatcha reading?” He asks after a few seconds of watching you. 

“Nothing!” You exclaim, closing the book shut with a slam and turning your attention to your boyfriend. 

Leander smirked at you, “hiding something, are we?” 

“N-No,” you stuttered. 

“Let me just…” Leander yanked the book out of your hand, opening it to the page you were on before scanning the words. His eyes widened at the crude words in front of him. “You’re reading this filth?”

“It’s interesting,” you mumble, trying to reach out to take back the book. 

“Interesting? What’s interesting is that you’re getting horny over words on a page,” Leander snorts.

“I didn’t say I was horny!” 

“Oh sweetie, it’s obvious,” Leander grins down at you, throwing the book across the room and allowing it to land on the floor with a slight thud. “Need some help baby girl?” You bite down on your bottom lip and nod slightly, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. “You just sit back and let me do what I need to do baby, I’ll take care of you better than a stupid book ever could.” 

A low moan leaves your throat as Leander forces your legs open, bunching your skirt up around your hips and tugging your underwear to the side. He made you cum twice on his tongue before he finally fucked you the way you needed it after reading that book.

AMIT THAKKAR is the one who introduced you to spicy books but he didn’t think they’d become a daily occurrence for you. Every book you read outside of classes had some level of smut in them. He even gave you recommendations when you first started reading them, handing you book after book and simply exclaiming, “you’ll love them.”  

Now you were sitting in the library reading a particularly hardcore smutty book that you had discovered on your own when Amit approached you. Peering over your shoulders, he briefly read the erotic scene before looking at you with wide eyes. “What?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow. 

“This is… different,” Amit said, motioning towards the book you were holding. 

“Different? How?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in slight confusion. 

“Knife play, gunplay, blood play,” Amit read aloud, “the list goes on…” 

“What’s wrong with that?” You asked, eyebrow raising as you closed the book slowly. 

“N-Nothing!” Amir stuttered, his face blushing bright red. “I just, I didn’t think you’d be into that.”

“I just love reading smut now, thanks to you,” you reminded him, placing the book on the table. 

“Well if you’re into that, there’s actually something I want to try,” Amit mumbled shyly under his breath. He whipped his wand out of his robes and began to trace your thigh with it, getting closer and closer to your sopping clothed cunt. Your eyes widened when you realised what he meant, a blush spreading across your own cheeks now. “If you’re up for it,” he whispered, kissing your cheek.

“Meet me in the astronomy tower, five minutes,” you giggled. Standing up you rushed to the astronomy tower where, true to his word, Amit met you. He might not have had a knife, or a gun to fulfil your seemingly dark desires, but he had a wand and boy, did you make a mess of it. 

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 65

part 1 | part 64 | ao3

cw: angst, weed

Eddie reaches out then stops, hand hovering just above Steve’s knee, something like panic in the tremor of his wrist. “Steve, for real, man, please let me—��

“No, you for real, man.” Seriously? Man? As if there aren't so many more important things to discuss right now. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and pinches his nose, the voice of an old swim coach ringing in his ear. Game time, Harrington, c’mon, where’s your head?

“Look,” Steve sighs, fingers clenching around his shin. “We can talk about... this," he gestures between the two of them, "later. Let’s just— Important stuff only for right now, okay?” 

Eddie’s breath shakes when he answers. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

“Good.” 

This is somehow worse than silence.

Steve shakes his head, tries to focus through the fog of awkward energy. Important things. Important.

Like, how about ‘what were you doing with a pretty girl in my fucking trailer?’ for starters, or maybe—

Oh, fuck. 

Steve looks sharply at Eddie. “Why were you asking if I was real?”

Eddie stares back in silence, eyes huge, bottom lip trembling as Steve presses into his space; drops his voice, brings a hand up to wrap around Eddie’s arm — just above his elbow, soft leather and warm muscle shivering under the touch. God. Please. Not him, too. “Eddie. Did you— did you see something? Are you…?”

“No,” Eddie shudders. “No, sorry, just, uh—” He shakes his head with a grimace, a shrill sound spilling out, some frantic braying thing that might have counted as a laugh if his face wasn’t doing that. “Pretty goddamn sure I’m just losing my mind after seeing the— the fucking—”

His palm floats up to the ceiling in a wobbly zig-zag, looseleaf drifting to the classroom carpet in reverse, then he clenches his fist and lets it explode open with a ‘boom,’ the sound effect ruined by another strangled laugh. “Oh, my god,” he giggles. Humorless, horrified, nervous system overwhelm. His entire arm is shaking. “Oh, shit, oh, Jesus Christ, Steve, Chrissy’s—”

“Hey.” Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s arm; waits for Eddie to take a breath, gasping and wet. “We can’t think about it, alright?”

Eddie’s voice cracks miserably. “That’s not fucking fair to her.”

“I know.” Steve loosens his hold; smooths his palm over the leather sleeve; wonders who he’s really trying to soothe. “I know. But we can’t— if what you and Dustin said is true, if it’s really some— some monster that hurt Chrissy, that’s trying to hurt us? We can’t grieve yet, okay? We can’t give him an opening to attack. We need a game plan.”      

Eddie exhales like he’s trying to mimic an owl. “Okay,” he nods eventually, slapping his thighs as he stands up. “Okay. Game plan. Yeah. Shit. Games and sports and plans and…” 

He trails off, mouth moving around mumbled gibberish as he wiggles his fingers and drums on himself, hands slipping up his torso, tongue over his top lip. He pats his front pocket. “Oh, hell yeah, baby.” Whirling to face Steve, he slips his forefinger and thumb into the narrow pouch and pulls out the Altoids tin where he keeps his pre-roll stash. “How’s this for a game plan?”

—

part 66

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