#ok it would repeat itself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eff4freddie · 3 months ago

Text

Play With It

Joel Miller x AFAB Reader

Explicit - Minors DNI

Your busy schedules have meant you just can't get it together, and you're starting to miss each other. Joel is finding it particularly...hard.

(AU no outbreak)

Warnings: Just some good old PWP, smut, phone sex, Joel is a menace, dirty talk, praise kink, Joel talks you through it, kind of soft pleasure-dom vibes? Please tell me if you like this, if you can't already tell I also have a praise kink, love me damnit

Words: 3.5k

NEW! Sequel - Play With Her

You just kept missing each other – literally and figuratively. If you had a late shift at the hospital, Joel had an early start on the site. If you got home to make dinner, Joel was working late. If you both managed to get home at roughly the same time, you lay on the couch next to each other in sweats and barely scraped the energy together to turn the TV off for bedtime. Your schedules were just out of whack. It happened.

But you were missing him. The fold of his crow’s feet when he smiled, the gentle little huff of effort when he bent down on his bad knee to pick up a fallen utensil, his heat behind you in bed, enveloping you and soothing your frazzled, jangling nerves. Your hindbrain was struggling to soothe itself without the weight of his body on yours. You were unmoored.

This morning was no different – you’d come home late, past midnight, tiptoeing up the stairs and slipping under the covers as gently as possible, knowing he had an early start. You were tired to the bone anyway, your knees aching from hours upon hours striding up and down hospital corridors.

You could sleep in, at least, until 10 AM the next morning. It was the one solace as you drifted off, pushing yourself against Joel’s back and winding your hands around his chest. All of this work the both of you were doing was for your future, for yours and his and Sarah’s. Within a year you should have scraped up enough for a deposit on a house. It would be worth it, even if you ached for him.

Your phone woke you, and you cracked an eye to try and gauge the time. You determined it to be half-past too early. You let it ring out. If it was important they’d leave a message.

A minute later it rang again and you fumbled for it on your bedside table just to silence it, seeing as you lifted it that it was Joel. A little scalpel of panic sliced at your insides. He never called twice unless it was important, and never during the day. What if he’d had an accident? What if he was hurt?

‘Joel?’ you asked, your voice cotton and sandpaper.

‘Hey, baby,’ he said, his voice calm, gruff, maybe a little frayed around the edges.

‘What’s happening, are you OK?’

‘M’fine, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry ya.’

‘Y’never call twice,’ you muttered, settling back down against your pillow, your eyes closing of their own volition.

‘I needed my girl,’ he said, and you noticed his tone, then, the darkness in it. You let out a little shiver, wrapped up warm and tight in your bed.

‘What are you playin’ at, Joel Miller?’ you asked, and you heard him hum in response.

‘I’m bored at work, baby,’ he said, and you could hear that he was pouting.

‘Surely you can find yourself something to do,’ you said.

‘S’why I’m callin’,’ he replied.

‘Something productive,’ you clarified, and you listened to him huff out a little laugh.

‘Baby?’ he said, his voice back down to burnt honey and salted caramel.

‘Mmm?’ you asked.

‘I wanna watch you play with it.’

Your eyes shot open, gasping. You felt the tangle of want in your belly, little tendrils reaching down your thighs to tug, tease, at your cunt.

‘Joel!’ you scolded, and you heard him snicker. ‘Aren’t you on site?’

‘Found m’self a little quiet place, out of the way.’

You didn’t respond, thoughts obliterated as your traitorous mind replayed his words on repeat in your head. Wanna watch you play with it. Wanna watch you play with it.

‘I’m in the truck, baby,’ he said. ‘Parked way down the back. No one can see, no one can hear.’

You felt the tension in your shoulders release, slightly, but your heart was still racing and you supposed it wasn’t going to stop. Not while you could hear him gearing up to destroy you without even being in the same suburb.

‘She droolin’ for me?’ he asked, his voice gravelly and you could hear the way his breath was shaking, knew that his own pulse was thrumming so hard in his neck it was making it hard for him to breathe out the words to you.

You squirmed, rubbing your thighs together under the sheets. He knew, of course he knew the fucking filthy old man, that you were almost permanently wet for him.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you said, and you heard him groan a little, snuffle it down with a bite to his lip.

‘Fuck, baby, been thinkin’ about you all morning. Woke up with you wrapped around me like a fuckin’ koala bear, took all my strength not to roll you over and fuck up into you while you were dreamin’.’

You gasped again, struggling to hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. Joel was so stoic, used his words so carefully in real life, that you could hardly believe your luck when you got him into the bedroom for the first time and he let loose the filthiest stream of consciousness you’d ever heard. He bathed you in his dirty little fantasies, doused you in his furious want for you.

‘Can I see her?’ he asked, and suddenly you were shy.

‘Just woke up, Joel,’ you said in protest, reaching up to smooth your hair without even thinking of it.

‘Love it best first thing,’ he said, ‘when you’re all warm and soft and pliant, let me do whatever I want to ya, keep those sweet warm thighs wrapped around my ears… or my cock buried deep in that sweet little cunt of yours and have you too sleepy to tell me to quit it.’

‘Mmm…quit it,’ you said, stretching, and he snickered.

‘Too late, baby, want you too bad.’

You liked him like this, although you’d never tell him that. Liked him a little bit needy, a little bit cunt drunk, wanting you so bad he had to pull his car out back and see to himself. You sighed. You were going to do it for him, you were always going to do it for him, but sometimes you had to put up a fight just for the appearance of the thing.

‘Please, baby,’ he said, and his words were punctuated with little breathy sighs, now.

‘Wanna see you too,’ you said, bargaining, stalling for time and not sure why.

You heard his voice grow distant as he pulled the phone away from his ear, and you did the same, waiting for facetime to connect.

You held your breath, holding the phone above your face as his ancient phone camera adjusted.

Then there he was, those beautiful brown eyes you could never say to, so soulful and kind and currently blown wide with want. His hair was scruffy like he’d been tugging at it. You giggled a little when you saw him, genuinely pleased.

‘Hey baby,’ he said, grinning at you, and you watched as his dimples emerged.

‘Hi,’ you said, suddenly shy, burying half of your face in your arm.

‘My beautiful girl,’ he muttered as he gazed at you through the phone screen. ‘I’m missing you, baby.’

You nodded, humming your agreement. ‘Miss you too,’ you said.

‘She missin’ me?’ You blushed, your core pulsing the moment he came on the screen. You nodded again. ‘Show me, please, baby,’ he implored. You could never refuse him.

He waited, his eyes bright and watchful, as you positioned yourself onto your back, angling the phone to travel down your body; first the tips of your straining nipples against the light cotton of your singlet (he whimpered at this, especially as you reached down and tweaked one a little), then lifting the cotton to reveal your belly, softening in the years you had known him but confident that he loved it just the same (he cooed at it, and you thought you heard him inform your belly he wanted to nip it and then kiss it better when he got home), then down a little further, your other hand now trailing along with the lens, to the aching heat of your core (you heard his sharp intake of breath as your pussy came into view, still covered by your panties, where the gusset was darkening with your slick. ‘There she is, fuck…’ he trailed off, and you felt your clit throb at the heat in it).

‘Let me have a little peak,’ he said, his voice reverberating around your empty bedroom as it shot out of the speaker on your phone. ‘Somethin’ to get me through the day.’

You giggled, pulling hard on your underwear so that the cotton stretched over your lips, outlining them perfectly for him as he groaned. You ran your fingers over the cotton, pushing and pulling at your lips, teasing yourself as much as you were teasing him.

‘You hard for me, Joel?’ you asked, and you heard his guttural ‘uh-huh’ in response. You slipped a finger under the leg of your panties, pulling them to the side so he could inspect the pink, the slick, of your folds.

‘Oh fuck, baby,’ he said, ‘such a good girl for me.’

You preened under his praise, your clit throbbing as you fought to control your breath, determined not to let him know what he was doing to you, not to let him win. Instead, you pulled your phone back up to your face, grinning at him.

‘Hey, where’d she go?’ he asked, and you laughed.

‘You know exactly where she is.’

‘Want to see her, baby, please,’ he said again, whining now, and you saw his shoulder moving slowly, the flex of his bicep just within view of the camera.

‘Show me what you’re doing to yourself, Joel Miller,’ you said, and he grinned at you, busted. His cheeks were pink, and he was starting to glisten from sweat. You wanted to lick it off him, take the salt of him into your body.

He angled his own phone down, so that you could see he was palming himself through his jeans. He let out a little gasp at one particularly hard tug.

‘Take it out,’ you said, and he tutted, raising the camera back to his face.

‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,’ he said, and you were up on your knees in an instant, swivelling to prop the phone up against the head of the bed, balancing on a pillow, as you reared back and slipped your underwear from your skin.

You watched as he freed himself, his belt moving aside so he could reach into his pants and pull himself out over his waistband. You felt more slick gather at the top of your thighs as you gazed at it, thick and large and with a vein on the underside you loved to rub along your tongue.

‘Play with it,’ he said, and you hated that you couldn’t gaze at his cock and his face at the same time, resolved to settle for the current view for now, as beads of precum gathered at the tip. You watched as he ran his fist over the shaft, leaving the head. You knew how sensitive it was, that when you sucked on it as you pulled, gently, at his balls he couldn’t help himself but to buck himself up into your throat, grunting your name as though you would bestow him mercy. You hadn’t, yet.

‘With this?’ you asked, teasing your fingers along your glistening cunt, avoiding your clit because you were already too close, wanted to prolong it, see how crazy you could make him.

‘Fuck yeah you know with that,’ he said, his irritation real and adorable, and you grinned.

‘Tell me how,’ you said, feeling your cheeks go hot and remembering that only recently had you built up the guts to tell him you loved it the most when he encouraged you, instructed you, talked you through it.

‘Run your fingers along the outside, gather up the slick,’ he said, and you did, shivering a little both at his words and the gravelly tinge to his voice. You could see his hand trembling as he held himself, the way his cock was flexing, throbbing, for more. ‘Run your fingertip over ya little clit, tight little circles… but not too hard,’ he said, and you groaned when you touched yourself there, your stomach clenching and nearly pitching you forward, the pleasure shooting down into your legs and up into your chest. ‘Nuh uh, too hard,’ he said, and you released the pressure a little. You realised he was going to punish you for teasing him. You realised you were going to let him.

‘She feelin’ good, baby?’

‘Mmhmm’ you breathed, nodding, momentarily incapable of words.

‘I want to watch her stretch,’ he said, and you opened one eye to see that he was now tugging at himself, pulling at the skin of his cock, drooling precum and using it to lubricate the head. He was grunting a little, his breath catching as he fought to keep talking. You smiled to yourself.

‘With my hands?’ you asked, feigning innocence even as you sank down further on your knees so he could get a better view.

‘Just give her one finger f’now, don’t wanna scare her,’ he said, and you nodded. ‘She’s so tight, baby, need to be gentle with my precious little pussy.’

You gasped, rolling your head back to the ceiling as though Jesus himself might save you.

‘Oh, I want it,’ you sighed, not sure what ‘it’ even was.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he cooed, soothing you even as he tortured you by proxy. ‘Slide one inside, let that little cunt gobble it all up, that’s the way.’ You bucked again, riding your own finger, as you whined. ‘Rub that clit baby, make it easy on her.’

You took your other hand and kept the tight little circles on your clit, whimpering all the same. You raised your eyes to him, realising now he had placed the phone on the dash so you could see his face, the naked heat in his gaze as he watched you, and you gasped at the sight of him, your cunt clenching on your fingers as a bolt of want shot through you at the sight of him.

‘Joel…’ you whimpered, called for him, and his brows furrowed.

‘I know, baby, but you can do it,’ he said, and you keened, speeding up on your clit.

‘It hurts, I want you so bad,’ you complained, and you saw the grin start to emerge on his face before he schooled it, pulled it back down to faux concern for your predicament.

‘My poor girl,’ he said, nodding at you as you saw his shoulder flex, watched as he licked at his lips, trying to stave it off so that he could continue to torture you. ‘Give her one more, let that greedy little cunt have what she wants.’

You could feel tears prickling the back of your eyes, the ache for him in your chest nearly as strong as the ache for him in your core, and you slid another finger in without any resistance, your slick leaking out to pool in your waiting palm.

‘S’good baby?’ he asked, and you nodded, then shook your head, then nodded again.

‘S’better when it’s you,’ you answered, honestly, trying to hook your fingers forward like Joel did but not having the length, not having the angle.

‘Imagine I’m right there behind ya, baby,’ he said, and even as he said it you felt heat bloom on your back. You rolled your head back again, as if his imaginary shoulder could hold it. You were dimly aware that you were swivelling your hips, fucking yourself down onto your hands, as you imagined Joel’s delicious, throbbing cock poking at the small of your back.

You could feel every nerve ending from the tips of your toes to the edge of your tongue singing for him, the sparks combining with the throb of need in your cunt. You couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stay still, set on fire by the heat of it.

‘Look at me,’ he grunted, but you couldn’t, couldn’t coordinate your movements, couldn’t crack open your eyes, drowning in it, feeling the pull of it slip over your nose and mouth. ‘Look at me while you play with it,’ he said again, louder and a little meaner this time, and you felt yourself react almost purely on instinct, snapping to attention.

He was panting, his own hips shifting as he tugged at himself, sweat gathering now at his brow, the sides of his forehead wet. He was jutting out his bottom lip, jaw flexing as he bared his teeth to you, trying hard to stave off the pleasure while simultaneously being driven mad by it.

‘Look what that sweet little cunt does to me,’ he said, his voice dangerous now, low enough that you found yourself holding your breath. ‘You seein’ this, baby?’

You nodded, almost wanting to apologise for how thoroughly you had deranged him.

‘Such a good girl,’ he praised again, and you felt a shudder of your hips. ‘Can she take one more?’ he asked, and you nodded, without hesitation. He had done that to you, had made you so wet and so wanting, your cunt pounding so soundly now, that you would take anything he instructed you to give yourself. ‘Do it,’ he grunted, and you did, a third finger sliding in to greet the others, a yelp of beautiful agony leaving your lips.

‘Fuck…’ you muttered, breathless, winded with the pleasure. ‘I can’t…’

‘Yes you can, baby, doin’ so good,’ he said, and you were losing yourself to it now, could feel the momentum, that you were nearing the point of no return, that you wouldn’t be able to pull your fingers from your needy, stretched little pussy until you’d come on them, until Joel had made you come.

You tried to bark out a warning, that you were getting too close, that it was about to sweep you away, except that when you opened your eyes to look at him you saw that he was right there with you, that he was sucking in great billows of air to steady himself, that he was panting and sweating and gasping your name, calling for you, his head rocking backwards to the headrest of his truck, overcome by the want for you, only to immediately swing forward again to watch you, to stare at your hands between your thighs on his phone screen, his hard, bulging cock in his hands, ready to burst.

‘Oh!’ you gasped, when you saw the state he was in, and his eyes snapped from your cunt to your face.

‘I know, I know,’ he repeated, fighting for air, ‘I know, I know, I know….’

‘May I?’ you asked, as though you would have been able to hold back, as though you had a choice, and he nodded, releasing you from the torment. You felt it speed up, the peak rising up to meet you, the backdraft scorching a path through your core as it caught you, and you came, hollering for him, whimpering and huffing, shocked at the intensity of it, at the way it obliterated you, whited you out, the sound of Joel’s twin cries nearly drowned by it.

At some point you had collapsed, falling from your knees to your belly on the bed. You could hear Joel, buried somewhere under the pillows, whimpering as he came down from his high, and when you had recovered the strength you fished the phone out and brought it back to your face. He sat, his head thrown back in his truck, as he gathered himself.

‘Christ on a cracker,’ he said, and you giggled. It had been too long. You wanted to do it again.

‘You OK, honey?’ you asked, and you heard him huff out a laugh.

‘Made a damn mess of m’self,’ he said, and you giggled again, little fizzing joy finding your chest. You felt lighter, not having realised how heavy the burden of missing him had been.

‘You got a towel or anything?’ you asked, and he rolled his eyes.

‘No, I don’t have a towel. Didn’t expect to be doing that this morning.’

‘You didn’t plan it?’ you asked, incredulous.

‘Just got overcome,’ he said, his dimples re-emerging as he looked at you, bashful, through the phone.

‘Mmmm,’ you agreed, feeling somewhat overcome yourself.

‘What time’s your shift start tonight?’ he asked, and you felt reality encroach ever so slightly on your happiness.

‘Start my shift at 5,’ you said, and he nodded. You could see the crease in his brow as he concentrated.

‘Fuck it,’ he said, having apparently come to a decision. You watched as he reached forward, turning the engine over, and heard the truck roar to life. ‘Don’t move a muscle,’ he said, putting the truck into gear and reversing out of the lot.

‘Joel, what are you doing?’ you asked, laughing a little at the look of pure determination on his face.

‘You stay right there,’ he said to you, winding down the window and calling out – presumably to his boss – that he was feelin’ poorly and needed to head home.

‘Joel, you can’t leave in the middle of the day,’ you said, and you saw his smile as he totally ignored you.

‘Be there in fifteen minutes,’ he said, pausing for a second to gather his thoughts. ‘You got to play with it,’ he said, picking up the phone and preparing to hang up so he could drive. ‘Now it’s my turn.’

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller the last of us

756 notes · View notes

nrdmssgs · 1 year ago

Text

Kissing König on the forehead

Masterlist Kissing Ghost on the forehead Kissing Price on the forehead

TW: mentions of social anxiety

His life consists of you. Literally: you have become the measure of everything. There are no more 'Fridays' or 'Novembers' - there are days, weeks and months, until he sees you again. No more rooms in his house - there is a wall to which he pressed his back, giving you more space to pass by, when he first saw you. There is a stove where you burned your fingers, making his heart ache when he saw your tears for the first time. There is a window, by which he fell on his knees and frantically stroked and kissed your hands, after he heard your timid confession. Anything beautiful he witnessed, anything meaningful he heard or read, made sense, only when he thought, how would he share it with you.

König knows, It's too much, his eagerness to be by your side constantly, his hunger for your touch, his feelings - he is too much. And he is afraid, so terribly and utterly afraid, that one day you see it too and leave him. So he restrains himself, tries to be less vocal, clasps his hands around his elbows to not hug you every minute, he is around. König carefully plans every conversation, you two will have, when he is back from deployment. Sometimes these imaginary chats end good, other times - you yell at him, but what is even worse - you cry. Your tears, even ones, he imagines pain him so badly - he immediately takes out his phone and texts you.

"I am so sorry, Schatz."

He snaps back to reality only when he gets your worried answer. Of course, you get scared and want to know, what happened. So he has to come up with some excuse.

"I am sorry for not being right now with you. I know, it's evening back at home, and you are probably watching some show, and I remember, how you like cuddling, while doing it. I'm sorry for not being there."

König finally puts the phone away, hissing at himself for this episode.

When he finally returns, you refuse to wait for him at home and come straight to the station. He allows himself to squeeze you in his arms, but deep inside his head, König counts. "One-two-three-four-five-it's time to let her go, you can't just stand there and embarrass her with your tenderness in front of everyone. You are becoming too much once again."

You interrupt his inner tirade. "Let's go home, love."

An entrance door shuts behind his back, and he finally takes a deep breath in, feeling the familiar scents of your shared house. König hears some strange repeating noise, lowers his eyes and notices that you are immersed in the fight with a jamming zipper on your jacket. On the very next moment, he kneels before you, moves your hands away from the zipper and tries to figure it out himself. It takes him a while, because he is afraid to pull too hard, finally destroying the jacket. You look at him warmly and laugh softly. "König don't worry, I can handle it."

At that moment, zipper finally breaks. König frowns.

"You couldn't just mind your business, you idiot? Now she is going to finally see, how overwhelming you are, how you break everything, you care for, how you smother those, who you love. Is that what you wanted?" An angry voice inside his head shouts and silences everything around, including König himself. He doesn't feel his lips starting to tremble, forming some apologetic mumbling. He doesn't hear, when you try to reassure him.

So you take a quick step forward, and embrace him, pressing your lips against his forehead. Maybe that angry voice exists only in his head, but it's not the first time, you witness König tearing himself apart for no reason.

"You are overthinking again, love. But its going to be ok, I promise." Another kiss on his forehead.

"You are not overwhelming to be with, you are not annoying. No." By this time, you know all the terrifying things König's mind whispers and shouts to itself.

"No one is going to get tired and leave you. Especially not me." You kiss his closed eyes, not caring for remains of dark camouflage paint on his skin.

"You are overthinking, and it is ok, because it shows, that you really care. It's not your fault." You press your lips against his face, so that he not only hears, but also feels, what you are saying.

And that silents Königs anxiety and self-doubt. He suddenly feels tired, but endlessly loved. He finally comes back home, pulling you into a long and tight embrace, not counting seconds this time.

2K notes · View notes

fangirl-dot-com · 5 months ago

Text

🤩Track 8 - Gorgeous

*I am alive!! I apologize for taking so long. I had to finish my internship before I could really start to get back into the groove. so here we go, almost 4k words just for you! lemme know if y'all like the redemption arc!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Logan was on cloud-9 right now.

Sure, the only person who could rival his good mood was probably Charles, who had just won his home race. But with Logan, he had you in his arms and another trophy to take back to Italy.

The only issue was that he could feel eyes on him. He had felt it since he shared the podium with the McLaren driver hours before. The sad puppy dog eyes that used to have Logan on beck and call for the boy. The ones that belonged to the person he used to call his best friend.

Oscar was a mystery that the American couldn’t figure out.

How much of their childhood was a lie? How much of their “supposed friendship” was all fake? In his heart, Logan still wished that it was all true. That maybe, he could go back in time and live in his F3 era, where he knew that Oscar would always be there for him.

But, if he did that, then you wouldn’t be in his arms, in the back of Jimmyz after Charles won the 2024 Monaco grand prix.

As if you could tell something was wrong, you tilted your head to look at Logan, who had a sad look in his eyes.

“Everything ok Log?” you questioned.

The blond gave a slight nod before digging his head into your shoulder. You knew that Logan could be a different type of drunk every time the two of you partied. You guessed that Monaco was a sad-drunk Logan, which also meant a very lovey-dovey Logan.

Your hand reached up and scratched his head, making him lean into your palm. You knew that Oscar was watching, he always was. His eyes were on the two of you like glue ever since the club mishap after the opening race back in January.

You and Logan wouldn’t admit it, but the months in between the argument and Imola were some of the worst months for the both of you. If you thought being in Indy was isolating, you couldn’t compare the weeks of silence. Then again, it was mainly silence from you and Logan. But you two had been hurt and it was easier to build up walls again then let people in.

Now, it was better. You and Logan made use of the on-team therapists that the team provided. They helped you get through things that you didn’t even know were problems until you talked about it.

And a few of those discussions were about Oscar.

A part of you wanted to push Logan in the Aussie’s arms and make sure that they apologized to each other. You could tell that Oscar wasn’t having the best season. His Monaco placing of P3 was the highest he had reached. Imola before that wasn’t the best.

On the other hand, if they apologized and were friends again, where would that leave you? Deep down, you knew that Logan wouldn’t abandon you. But sometimes, the past liked to repeat itself. You had friends that dropped you so quickly and you couldn’t afford to lose Logan like you lost your other friends.

Your therapist had mentioned that you had attachment and abandonment issues after everything you had been through. You weren’t going to argue with her as it made sense. You were scared of being replaced, that was it.

When Oscar met your eyes, you flashed him a quick smile. However, that had the Aussie turn his eyes away and to the floor, which made you frown. Maybe if you could be nice to Oscar, Logan and him could make up.

A snort from Logan had you looking away from where Oscar sat. A soft smile made its way to your lips as you looked up at Logan.

“What is it?”

He leaned in to your ear to whisper, “Look at Charles right now.”

You looked around for the Monegasque and completely lost it when you noticed his Monaco flag covering his face, or well, his entire torso. What had you more intrigued was Max, who had Charles’s hand in his as he dragged the probably black-out-drunk man into a quieter corner.

“Is there something going on between them?” you asked.

A hum came from Logan. “I don’t know. If there is, they’re not being very discreet.”

You leaned back into his chest. “You can’t talk Mr. Kiss Me On The Podium.”

Logan whined, “It was one time.”

You took your phone out and your eyes widened at the time. “We should probably get back to the hotel. It’s nearly 3 in the morning.”

The blond nodded and grabbed your hand, much like Max did with Charles. The two of you dodged and weaved through multiple people as they also congratulated Logan on his race. Yours wasn’t as impressive as you crossed the line in P4.

As you led Logan away, you passed by Oscar’s table.

“Congrats on P3,” you said, hoping that he’d heard you over the music.

Oscar, at first, hadn’t thought you were talking to him. But, the words “congrats” and “P3” made it clear that you were, indeed, talking to him. His eyes widened as he looked up at you. Logan behind wasn’t really paying attention, and Oscar didn’t know whether to feel glad or deflated.

He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

You didn’t respond, but that same lopsided smile was flashed his way before you turned around and dragged Logan to the front, leaving Oscar frozen in his seat.

A long sigh left his lips as he put his head down on the table. He didn’t know what to do. Logan had been his best friend, there was no lie about that. But with McLaren and all the success, he had pushed the American to the point of no-return. And he was dealing with the consequences. A firm hand landed on his shoulder, making him look up.

His eyes, now partially watery, met the blue ones of George Russell.

George was expecting Oscar to have fallen asleep, because if there was anyone who could close his eyes and nap at a club, it would be Oscar. However, he wasn’t expecting the younger man to be close to tears.

The Briton quickly sat down next to the Australian.

“What the matter Oscar? Not happy with P3?”

That did it.

It was only a matter of minutes before the floodgates opened and Oscar began to sob. George’s eyes widened in a panic, not knowing what to do with a sobbing Oscar. He frantically looked around, trying to find someone who could help him.

His eyes landed on Charles and Max, but by the way they were both swaying, neither of them would be very much help.

He glanced to the other side, eyes connecting with Lewis. He made a weird motion to the heap on the table that was Oscar and wildly beckoned him over.

The older Briton picked up what George was putting down and ended his conversation. He walked swiftly over and sat on the other side of Oscar.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lewis questioned, now hearing the very clear sobs.

George ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I congratulated him on P3, and he just started crying.”

“He didn’t even look at me,” came a wail from Oscar.

Lewis was now confused. “Charles looked at you a bunch mate.”

“No!” Oscar sat up, fire in his eyes. To George and Lewis, he looked like a very peeved kitten. “Logan!”

George was even more confused. “Logan?”

Oscar sadly nodded, lip pouting. “Our first podium and he didn’t even look at me.”

His head thunked back on the table, which made the two Mercedes drivers want to laugh. Lewis took a deep breath before putting his hand on Oscar’s back.

“Mate, the two of you aren’t exactly friends right now.”

That made Oscar quickly sit up, and more tears fell from his eyes. “B-but, he’s my best friend. I didn’t mean to push him away.”

George sadly smiled. “Does Logan know that?”

Oscar looked at the Briton. “He won’t let me talk to him. He turns away. Even Y/n talks to me sometimes but he won’t. I just want my friend back.”

Another set of wails fell from his lips, making some people look in their direction. George grit his teeth as he tried to comfort Oscar. He hadn’t expected the Aussie to be so heartbroken about this.

Lewis leaned in so that Oscar could hear him. “Well, then you just have to make him listen. Logan is guarded, so you have to keep pushing.”

A sniff came from Oscar.

“But what if he never forgives me?”

“Then he won’t. But you would be able to apologize and move on.”

That was definitely the wrong choice of words as Oscar started to sob once more. George sent Lewis a stink eye over the sobbing heap of McLaren driver.

The younger Briton took a deep breath. “Lewis didn’t mean it like that. He’s just saying that you have to give Logan the chance to know that you are sorry and process things. It took him almost three months for him to forgive Lewis, Max, and Charles.”

That at least got Oscar to stop sobbing. George made a mental note that Oscar was a sad-type of drunk. He was only hoping that you and Logan were doing fine, knowing that Logan tended to get sappy when drunk as well.

However, it was about the same in the hotel that you were staying at. Logan had unexpectedly started crying in the car, making you panic. By the time you got him to the room, he was almost in hysterics.

You had no clue what to do as Logan flopped face down on the bed. His sobs were still audible through the multiple blankets. You sat next to his head and rubbed his back.

“Logan, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you.”

You knew he said something, coming from the muffles. You rolled your eyes, even if he couldn’t see them.

“I can’t hear you through the blanket.”

Logan pushed himself up, letting you see his red eyes and tear streaks.

“Oscar hates me,” he wailed and flopped back face down.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry with him. Obviously, the Aussie didn’t hate Logan. In fact, you think that Oscar is very sorry for what happened between them. You pushed all your feelings aside, wanting to help your boyfriend.

“Baby, I don’t think Oscar hates you.”

The sobbing blond turned his head. “But I yelled at him.”

“You yelled at Max, Charles, and Lewis. Do they hate you?”

There was some silence before he spoke up again and huffed. “No.”

You giggled. “So why do you think that Oscar hates you?”

Logan’s lip wobbled as he spoke. “Because he was so distant. I tried talking to him, and he kept pushing me away.”

You thought for a moment. “You both were rookies with a lot on your plate. And, he had a pretty mean teammate. Maybe think about that?”

Logan nodded. In his drunk mind, his thoughts were all over the place. But deep down, he knew that Oscar may have not meant to be distant. There was a difference between Williams and McLaren. The Aussie might have had more pressure than what he wanted to tell anyone.

When he finally looked up at you, you could see the puppy dog eyes. Those bright ocean blue eyes that you loved so much. You always felt like you might sink, drown, and die in them. Logan sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on your lap. His arms came around your waist to hold you.

“What if we invite him to paddle in Canada?” he whispered, a bit nervous to your reaction.

He knew that you dealt with some abandonment issues and didn’t want you thinking that he’d replace you if him and Oscar miraculously saved their friendship. So, by asking to invite him to paddle, it wouldn’t just be the two of them.

He opened his eyes to see your reaction and was pleased with the soft look in your eyes. “We can do that baby.”

“You’re so gorgeous. I love you.”

You snorted, not expecting that. “I love you too, Logan.”

A soft snore was your answer, making you giggle again. You gently rolled Logan onto his side of the bed and undressed him down to his boxers. You knew he tended to overheat, and sleeping in jeans was never fun for anyone.

You stripped as well, but took one of Logan’s shirts out of his suitcase to use as pajamas. The bottom of the t-shirt ended a bit above mid-thigh. It was perfect.

When Canada arrived two weeks late, it was wet and cold. The race was a perfect reflection of the weather. You and Logan couldn’t be bothered by either of you not getting pole. In fact, you both almost ran over George when he managed to set the fastest time right before Max.

The two of you, of course, hugged Max with the same ferocity. With Charles, you both hugged him a bit sweeter. You and Logan had made it to the lower ranks of Q3. Charles almost made it but was knocked out by Lance.

Oscar stood by the sides, watching you two do a quick debrief with your small group of friends. Even Lewis, who had normally stayed away after quali-sessions, was excitedly waving his hands around, happy to be in the front of the pack for this race.

The Aussie almost looked away, but Logan had decided to look in his direction, locking eyes with him. Oscar was ready for a sour expression, but was confused at the small smile the American threw his way. He quickly flashed one back before Logan’s attention went back to you and Max, who seemed to be in a very serious conversation.

It really wasn’t as Max was telling you about his cats, but Oscar didn’t know.

He was brought out of his staring by Lando wrapping an arm around him. He was then led away, but he quickly glanced back. You had caught his eyes this time, giving him the same smile that you had at the club. But this time, Oscar was brave enough to smile back.

When his teammate dragged him away, you turned back to the group. “Are we all good for paddle on Monday? I know it’s very quick after the race.”

George nodded. “I can come. Is it just us?”

Logan chewed his lip. “I think I might invite Oscar?”

Four pairs of wide eyes stared at him in disbelief. But they quickly smiled at him.

Charles, who had made his way over after qualifying, said, “I think that’s very nice of you.”

Logan nodded, sighing softly. “You guys don’t have to come.”

Max wrapped an arm around him. “We won’t leave you to the wolves. Y/n could take care of you if we can’t make it. I’ll let you know on Monday morning.”

The Ferrari driver grumbled a bit. “I just want to get through tomorrow.”

lamborghini_racing has posted

liked by sargeantgirlie, Dior, lambo&co, and 3,204,284 others

lamborghini_racing tough race, but we'll get them next time. guess the bees don't like the rain 🐝

see all comments

lambo_duo we'll get them next time! still leading both championships!!

papa_tonino corsa superba. coraggio, ci arriverai la prossima volta 👏 (superb racing. chins up, you'll get there next time)

allofitaly what papa tonino said - Spain is ours !!

formula_delulu lando should have gotten a worse penalty. five seconds is nothing when George was almost 10+ behind

lestappenlove this just shows that lamborghini is more consistent. p2 and p3 should have been ours but whatever. heartbroken for Ferrari, Williams, and Lambo

Logan remembered how Charles grumbled as he had to hoist himself out of his car in the middle of the race. He was grumbling the same way. There were only ten laps left with Max in the lead, you and him trailing behind the Dutchman. However, it seemed like one of the McLaren drivers wanted to go bowling after getting a pitstop with new tyres.

Everyone knew the track was cold, reflecting the rainy atmosphere. Going for gaps on cold tyres was not something that should be done. However, Lando wasn’t everyone.

After coming out of the pits, he had barreled past you and then past him, clipping his tyre, which sent him turning back into you, ultimately resulting in a double DNF. He had made sure that you were fine as he helped you out of your car. You had gotten shunted more than he did, but he was still sore.

It was silence in the recovery car as it drove you back to the pits. You two kept your helmets on as you got to your garage. Both of you were trembling as you walked in, expecting looks of hatred for crashing. Because that’s what happened with Williams and Arrow. A DNF was a death sentence for you and him.

However, you two were met with sympathetic looks and very comforting hugs and pats. The team medics quickly looked you and Logan over for any major injuries. You looked over at Logan, who probably wanted to cry from the kindness as much as you did.

Getting dressed was hard as your shoulders and fronts hurt, but you got through it. Max had won in the time that it took you both to get back and change.

Still wanting to be good friends, you watched the podium celebrations as Max, Lando, and George stood tall. You were thankful that George wasn’t right on your tail as Logan hit you, because you would have hit the Briton.

You wanted to say something to Logan, but were instantly pissed once again. The crowd of papaya-clad fans around you were chanting Lando’s name during the Dutch national anthem. You hoped that Lando would have the decency to gesture to them to stop chanting as Charles had done in Monza last year. However, the Briton seemed to bask in the praise. Logan sneered as Lando raised his fist, almost jeering them on.

You scoffed.

You watched as Max and George both side-eyed him.

After the podium celebrations, you and Logan made your way back to the Lamborghini garage. You passed by Ferrari, noticing Charles glaring at someone behind you. A quick turn to see who it was also had you glaring.

Lando and the McLaren team were celebrating the podium. But a swatch of blue had you calming down as you noticed Max sneaking into the bright red garage.

Logan took your hand to lead you into your own yellow and black. The two of you went to Logan’s driver room and sat down. Your head was resting on his shoulder when there was a knock on the door.

“We’re not expecting anyone right?” you asked.

Logan looked confused as he got up and walked to the door. When he saw a flash of papaya, he wanted to slam it closed. But the McLaren kit belonged to Oscar and not Lando.

The three of you just looked at each other before Oscar cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

Logan said nothing, but turned to the side to let the Aussie in.

You went to say something, but he held out his hand. “Can I say something first?”

Logan huffed. “Sure. Unless you want to be like your teammate out there and be disrespectful.”

Oscar, with wide eyes, shook his head. “I can here to apologize.”

You and Logan were interested now.

The Aussie took a deep breath. “I know words won’t repair the past year, but I want to slowly start fixing it.”

He looked to Logan first. “I’m sorry Logan. I shouldn’t have let Lando be so influential on me last year. Because of that, I lost you as my best friend and I regret it every day. Your friendship meant the world to me, and I’m paying my own consequences.”

Oscar then turned to you. “Y/n, we don’t know each other well, but I’m also sorry to you. I noticed how everyone seemed to distance you at McLaren functions and I should have been the better person instead of following the crowd.”

He was on the verge of tears, but so were you and Logan.

“I’m not here because anyone asked me. I’m here because I want to make things right. And I know that I probably won’t be forgiven immediately, I’m not asking you to. But I wanted to say sorry first and hope to be on the right path to be friends. And – ”

Oscar couldn’t finish as he was brought into a big hug by Logan. His breath shuddered as he melted into the hug. He sobbed a bit more when he felt your arms wrap around him and the taller blond. He squeezed Logan a bit tighter as more tears fell.

Logan released the hug after a few moments and wiped his own tears. You also wiped your tears as you giggled at the moment of three drivers all crying together. Your laughs made Logan start, which made Oscar join in.

It felt ridiculous as you three really started laughing.

When you came down from the laughing high, Logan finally looked at Oscar in full. His eyes were red, but so where his and yours. He smiled at the Aussie.

“Oscar, how do you feel about some paddle?”

venus2 has posted

liked by oscarpiastri, pheonix95, sargeantgirlie, and 204,295 others

venus2 padel after the storm

see all comments

loscar4ever OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH 😱

presidentlogan LOSCAR IS BACK????

phoenix95 we totally crushed them 😌

venus2 YEAH WE DID

charles_leclerc if only SOMEONE put in the same amount of effort we could have won 😡

maxverstappen1 I SAID I WAS SORRY

y/ns_world everyone is focused on the first pic but the second one is so cute 🥺

y/nxlogan I know righttttt

lambo_duo glad to see smiles in the comments, we'll bring it back in Spain!

pheonix95 has posted

liked by venus2, charles_leclerc, logang2, and 402,947 others

phoenix95 you're so gorgeous it actually hurts 🥴

see all comments

loscarlife I CAME STRAIGHT FROM LOGAN'S POST

cardar8155 carlos and oscar are still superior

lestappenlove ummmmmmm no.

venus2 you're so gorgeous 🙃

charles_leclerc someone complemented me once 😒

maxverstappen1 I'M STILL ALIVE????

charles_leclerc y'all hear that 🤨

lewishamilton just the wind

y/n.nation they're such couple goals

oscarpiastri has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, opeightyone, venus2, and 805,294 others

oscarpiastri never playing doubles with them again 🥲

see all comments

opeightyone looks like we should start a padel line

lando_no_rizz glad that it seemed to be the group plus oscar

sargeantgirlie he's on thin ice, but I guess oscar is now fine

phoenix95 admit it, you're just scared of us 😏

oscarpiastri yes. on and off track.

venus2 AS YOU SHOULD BE 😤

oscarpiastri @/maxverstappen1 come get your son pls

maxverstappen1 that's George's son

georgerussell63 oh so he's only my son when he's acting out

loscarland MY FAMILY IS BACK TOGETHER

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

739 notes · View notes

vulpes115 · 7 months ago

Text

Narcissa, specifically the Marauder’s fandom take on her, makes me want to sob and I need her to be appreciated more. Just, imagine you are the third daughter of parents that only wanted sons. A flower in a sky full of stars. A flower, an object only meant to be looked upon and be pretty. You know your parents never loved you, will never love you, you who is not the long awaited son they asked for. But even still, you can’t help pushing yourself to fulfill the mold they expect from you, beautiful and perfect. But even still you receive love from your family, just in the form of your older sisters. Your eldest who tries so fiercely to protect you and your sister but is clearly starting to slip into insanity. The middle starting to slip away, finding comfort in a man who’s kind you were poisoned to hate. Still, you love them. No matter what you love them, you have so little else. The only other one you have is your baby cousin, made in the same mold as you, who you try so desperately to protect.

At Hogwarts you are expected to be a good mark on your family, prefect, ace student and quidditch player. Willing to drop it all as soon as graduation to be a wife and mother. You only let yourself break the rules once, for her, the one decision you made that goes against your family wishes, the girl whose kisses taste like powdered sugar, whose natural kindness and beauty shines like a candle in your otherwise dark life. For years you let yourself indulge it. For years you pretend. But you know it must end.

The end comes quicker than thought. Your middle sister comes to you, she’s going to elope with her own secret love, she’s going to escape the family and the rot it contains. She asks if you want to come with. You want so badly to say yes. But you have been the perfect daughter for so long, being anything else scares you. So you say no. So you close the door. So you marry the fiancée that sister left behind. So you accept it when your lover breaks up with you, unwilling to be just a mistress. So you tell yourself you’re better without her, all the while knowing you will never find love like her again. Never stop loving her. You say as much when your cousin asks you if it ever gets better, heartbroken over his own Gryffindor. But still you made your choices and well, your fiancée is…fine, as pure-blood men go. He loves you but you don’t love him, can’t ever love him but you’re ok playing your part, even if it’s never him you picture when you play it, not even on your wedding night.

Before you know it, war is at your doorstep. Your eldest, no, only sister and your husband both pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord. So does your youngest, no, only cousin. Your cousin, so young, so naive. He dies, you never find the body, he was only eighteen and you couldn’t do anything to protect him. And the only person you ever loved? Well when you first realized she was going to be fighting on the opposing side you figured she’d be ok. Her and her new husband were powerful, well respected aurors, true Gryffindors, if anybody was going to be ok it was them. You were wrong, oh so wrong. Death would have been kinder with the fate they suffered. A fate brought on by your sister. The only one you ever loved as much as the love of your life. A love now only matched by hate.

You watch as your sister is dragged off in shackles, trying to hide any expression behind an icy mask. You watch as your lover looks back at you with distant lifeless eyes, eyes that don’t recognize you. You visit as often as you can but it’s hard to get away from your duty as mother and wife, even harder to see your lover permanently near death like this. You don’t mean to, but you stop visiting as often.

You only have one thing left to hold on to now, your son. Your darling boy. As a second war fast approaches you fear for him. You saw what happened to your cousin, you fear history is doomed to repeat itself. You do everything you can, extract whatever vows are needed, you do not believe you can survive if he too is taken from you. Then the pivotal moment comes. You have no idea if your son is alive or dead, but the chosen one is lying on the ground and he tells you he’s alive. In that moment you make a choice, you lie, you lie to the most powerful man alive, you lie to a mind reader, you lie to save your son, and you never admit it to yourself but you lie to avenge your lover he stole the sanity of, your cousin he stole the life from, and your sister he stole the soul of.

When the war is over, your action lets your family escape consequences. For the first time since the war began, you find the courage to come and visit your old lover. You apologize for not visiting more, and tell her about your sons, how her son had finished what she started, how your son had done what you never could. It takes several years longer until you make a visit to a different ghost of your past, knock cautiously on the door, a door opened by your sister, a woman you haven’t seen in almost thirty years. Things are awkward at first, of course they are, she is resistant, she’s lost so much to this war and she is slow to trust again, but eventually you two are having a heart to heart over tea, apologizing to each other about old wrongs. It’s not much, but it’s a start. As for your boy, he finds comfort in, of all people, the chosen one, the boy your whole family was supposed to hate, the boy who you helped save the life of. You are glad he is happy, you saw how miserable he was during the war. But a small part of you can’t help but feel envious, that this is a happiness that you could’ve experienced, that your cousin could’ve experienced, if you had made different choices, better choices, found your voice earlier, instead of being left with just an empty shell. Still, you made those choices, had made your bed, and now you must lie in it. But, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, if you get to see your son smile, if you get to hold your grandchildren, if you get to see your sister for monthly tea, if you get to hold your old lover’s hand once in awhile and pretend for just a minute that everything turned out ok between you two.

That’s something your parents didn’t know when they named you after a daffodil, that even after a harsh cold winter, they can make a comeback.

#Narcissa Black #Narcissa Malfoy #The Black Sisters #Andromeda Black #Andromeda Tonks #Bellatrix Black #Bellatrix Lestrange #NobleFlower #Alice Fortescue #Regulus Black #Marauders

486 notes · View notes

thewosoway · 2 months ago

Text

Missed you - Lena Oberndorf x reader

* based off of the video from the olympics of Lena showing up to the hotel to support germany*

With Lena injured you became the one who cared for her aside from her parents obviously. That was until you needed to go to France with the German team to play in the Olympics. You had sat together and thought about how you could support her from France, deciding on multiple FaceTimes and matching bracelets you had made together so you would always feel connected with them.

Lena made it obvious that she wouldn’t be able to come because of rehab and you had become ok with the idea of going alone and hanging out with other players like Jule and Lea instead of Lena.

Before the USA game you had been spending the day going around with Laura, taking pictures of random things and the team. After the pictures you both decided to go sit in the chill room of the hotel and play a card game while watching a movie.

Around half way through the card game you got up and told Laura you needed the bathroom and then you were going to come back and finish the game. She nodded and off you went, passing through the lobby on your phone unaware of the car having just pulled up containing your girlfriend.

Lea saw you walking past and panicked you were going to see what was happening and ruin the surprise. You kept your head down while sending Lena a message asking how she was feeling and that you were worried about her. Lea sent a quick text to Alex popp asking her to distract you and walk you back to the chill room the other way not through the lobby.

Coming out of the bathroom Alex was stood there waiting for you. “Hey y/n, just wanted to come find you and have a little prematch chat” you nodded and went with her talking about how you felt about the match and different things.

Lena had gone with Lea to the chill room where you were originally and sat down on some beanbags at the back of the room, out of sight from the door and where you were sat with Laura.

You walked in finishing your conversation and gently throwing a breakfast bar at Laura that you had picked up on your entry before sitting down in your previous spot and continuing the game. Completely oblivious to your girlfriend watching patiently at the back of the room.

Laura decided to start a conversation about Lena and how her recovery was going, talking about her and other things.

“I love Lena with all my heart and this knee issue is just a minor setback for her. Shes doing good with recovery so far, I just miss her so much. She gets a little annoyed at my constant hovering around her since she got hurt” a small laugh escaped as you talked about her small temper which showed itself more often on the pitch.

Lena sat at the back of the room listening to you talking about her and how her injury was affecting you but all around listening to you constantly repeating how you missed her. She watched as you and Laura stopped playing the card game and stood up going to the pool table while you typed at your phone sending her a message checking on her even though you just checked in, hearing a small cough to get your attention you looked up and in the direction of the sound.

“Lena?” She nodded and smiled “hi love” you dropped everything and ran to her. “What are you doing here?” Holding her close to you like she was going to disappear if you let go “thought id come see the girls play and support my favourite girl” she held you tight being careful of her knee

“I missed you” she kept hugging you and holding you close to her not letting you go. “When you guys are done I wanna play pool” Laura watched from her position at the pool table laughing slightly at her comment and Lena’s reaction of putting her middle finger up to her. “Just got my girl back.. fuck of Freigang” she mumbled into ur neck.

You held onto each other and stayed hugging for a moment before Lena started to get uncomfortable stood on her injured leg which you noticed and lead her to sit down on a beanbag so she could relax for a moment. “I love you Lena, I’m so happy you’re here with me as you should be. I missed you”

Lena made sure to keep you close like you were going to disappear and you would be apart again. You sat together cuddled into her side wrapped together talking to Lea and Laura before the rest of the team walked in to have a chill before the match and talk about tactics. It wasn’t until guilia looked over to the back of the room hearing voices in deep discussion “obi?” The team looked up from where they were stood and saw her with their jaws dropping as each of them looked up to see Lena sat with you half asleep in her arms just listening to her voice and her heartbeat happy to have her back and be in her arms.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #lena oberdorf x reader #lena oberdorf imagine #lena oberdorf

296 notes · View notes

siriuslylantsov · 23 days ago

Text

birthday kiss

pairing: roomate!spencer reid x reader

description: its readers birthday!

tags: fluffy fluff, first kiss, gn!reader, expensive watch but its okay because papa pasta paid for it, idk bro there are no warnings this is just cute.

a/n: more roomate spencer because i am a sucker for close proximity. this is the watch for reference (i rlly want it, let me live) and im choosing to be ignorant about spencers financial sitch, but in this its a tad too expensive for him. watched gilmore girls before writing this and had the overwhelming urge to write (somewhat) snappy dialogue. happy reading!

wc: 882

“make a wish.”

spencer holds out the cupcake with a single candle on it infront of your face. you blow out cold air extinguishing the frame with your eyes closed.

“what’d you wish for?” you.

“i can't tell you, it won't come true.”

the two of you are sitting on the couch, facing each other. it's midnight, which means it's officially your birthday. spencer picked up a cupcake on the way home from work, it was red velvet with assorted coloured sprinkles, very festive. you split the cupcake with him, laughing when he inevitably gets frosting on his nose, swiping it off with your thumb.

“so i got you something,” he starts as stands up to go get it.

“oh?”

“yeah,” he hands you a neatly wrapped box, sitting back down next to you, a little closer this time to gauge your reaction. you peel away the paper and a red leather box reveals itself, and in small print; cartier.

“spencer, this isn't funny,” you look up at him, eyes wide.

“open it,” he urges.

you open the box, and your breath hitches. the most beautiful silver watch sits inside it–one you've had your eye on for months.

“this isn't funny,” you repeat, looking at the watch in disbelief.

he swipes the box, taking the watch out and putting it on you, seeing as how you're frozen. he holds your wrist gently, admiring the piece he got you. he can't help but lift your wrist up and press a kiss to the soft skin, letting his lips linger there for a moment before putting it down.

his tenderness makes you frown. you look down and let out a slightly incredulous scoff. “i can't believe you…” you trail off before returning your glance to him, “how did you afford this?”

“i've got money.”

“i know you do. but you're also splitting the rent with me so that has to put up some spending limitations.”

“ok fair enough,” he surrenders, “rossi hooked me up, and by hooked me up, i mean he paid for most of it.”

you smile, a bright beautiful smile that loves. “that sly fox,” you chuckle, “remind me to kiss him next time i see him.”

“he gets a kiss and i don't?” he fake pouts.

“no, you get a kiss,” you lean over and lightly peck his cheek, you stay close. your lips are still curled up but this time it's a giddy grin.

you have an idea.

“i got something for you too.”

“it's not my birthday, why would you get me something?”

“it just came up,” you shrug.

“okay…” his uselessly veiled scepticism is very obvious.

“close your eyes.”

he does and a small crease forms between his eyebrows in confusion when you don't get up, he can feel the way the cushions dip as you shift in your seat, you're moving closer? why haven't you left to go get it yet? maybe it's in your pocket? maybe-

all rational thought vanishes from his mind when he feels your lips on his, soft. your hand is on his cheek as you kiss him. it's gentle and hesitant and he feels as though he might explode. careful not to make you think he doesn't reciprocate, spencer kisses you back, with a touch of desperation. you hum quietly into the kiss and pull back, resting your forehead on his.

“thank you,” you whisper, the soft puffs of your breath can be felt on his face and he relishes in the proximity.

he laughs, low and behind closed lips. “you're welcome. if i had known that getting you a watch would have earned me a kiss, i would've done it a lot sooner.”

“don't get too excited, dave gets one too.”

he shakes his head with a scoff, forehead still pressed against yours.

“thats what i wished for by the way.”

he leans his head back to look at you, “us kissing?”

“mhm, something like that.” you wished for a lot more than kissing but for now this was perfect.

“well, you know what they say…”

“what?” you inquire, amused.

“if the wish is granted within five minutes of the wish making, you're allowed a second one.”

“really? where'd you hear that?”

“i read it somewhere.”

“no sources?” you retort.

“nope, forgot.”

“likely story.”

you roll your eyes yet you humour him, picking up the liner filled with the mound of frosting you picked off your share of the cupcake earlier and sticking the previously lit candle into it. spencer grabs the match box and relights it.

you get all up in his space again, face dangerously close to his with the contraption you've made held next to you. “i wish you'd kiss me again,” you request, turning your head to blow out the flame.

his fingers catch your chin to bring your face back to him, “we can definitely arrange that.”

you giggle as his lips hover over yours. “if this wish gets granted within the first five minutes too, do i get a third?”

“you can have whatever you want, angel.”

“good deal,” you murmur against his lips as he kisses you.

it was just a little over 15 minutes into your birthday but you could say with full certainty that this one was going to be your favourite.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic #icymi <3 #icymi

223 notes · View notes

dcxdpdabbles · 9 months ago

Note

ok but imagine

batman with gun tim time travels to the past but instead of trying to seduce baby tim to the dark side he,,, ignores him

after all baby tim is young and pragmatic he'll realize that company policy is ineffective and kill people gets shit done

no bwg!tim has more important things to handle

like killing the ppl who murder his boo danny

and he knows exactly who to target

bonus points if tim and danny aren't dating yet

extra bonus points if they haven't even met yet

The plan was simple really. Time travel and start the correct way to handle criminals early. Take out the people that had taken from him the only person he really loved.

His past self was still running around trying to talk the Bats down from murderous rage, and while that itched, it was a lesson he needed to learn in order to finally wake up and properly get things done.

Tim saw no reason to track him down. He's stubborn as a mule, he can admit that, and his past self heartily believes that the crazy bastards should be locked away instead of put down. It would be ages before he could get close to getting him to listen to what Tim had to say.

Time, ironically, is not something he has to waste. The machine that brought him back had preset departer times. If he missed it then Gotham in ten years would be without it's Batman.

The carefuly iron control he has over the city would be questioned, and some fools would try to make a power grab in the sudden vaccum Batman had left behind.

So while it would take years for his past self to come to his senses, it would happen on its own, and Tim was alright with waiting for it. What he wouldn't allow to repeat itself was the death of his lover.

His plan involved killing the people that killed Danny. What Tim forgot in his grief was that those very people were the ones to raise Danny.

Yes, Jack and Maddie Fenton had killed their son in an accident. The ray gun that they designed had been faulty and had exploded in wide outburst instead of shooting straight.

It was meant to paralyze the ghost for capture.

Instead, it attacked ghost cores in horrific, fast-acting disintegration. Tim remembers the blast washing over him, the green ripples doing nothing to him as a human, and for a brief second thinking it funny that their gun was just a fancy light show, only to hear Jack Fenton's cry of celebration.

Then Danny's scream of agony.

His skin had been falling off, and Tim had been rooted to the spot watching his boyfriend, his lover, his entire moral compass melt before his eyes.

He had watched Maddie's smug face break into hysterical grief when Danny's ghost form vanished, and the sluggish body that fell to the floor with a splat had been her son. The two scientists had reached Danny first, and the fools had begged him to hold on.

As if they were not the ones to have done this, indirectly or not.

Danny's last words had been "I forgive you. I love you"

and then he was gone. In seconds his Danny was lost. He had died painfully, unfairly, and all because his parents had believed in their bigotry so purely they never saw reason to change their minds, even when there were signs their son was part of the group they loath so much.

The Fentons hadn't even been charged with Danny's death. It was deemed an accident; the worst they had to do was pay a fine for their blast, knocking out the power. All because ghosts were not protected under meta laws, and Danny was no longer recognized as human.

Tim hated them more than any villain in the world, hated that they lived well, Danny did not.

His own comfort was that they couldn't live with themselves either. Jack Fenton had taken his life the night after the funeral Jassmin had planned for Danny. Maddie Fenton had lost her mind, speaking to the air as though her husband and son were still there, and was moved to an asylum by a grief-stricken daughter.

There she died of a broken heart.

Tim took care of Jazz, he felt that Danny would have wanted him to, but she was never the same again. She was one of the first to agreed with him that Batman had to stop people before they went too far.

That thinking "they'll come around" was no longer an option. She made him the bullets for the gun that killed Bruce's parents, and she was the one that watched that same gun put down the Joker.

It was the first time she smiled in years.

All that hurt because of these fools.

Tim wasn't going to let them hurt anyone anymore. He aims his gun at the shaking forms of Jack and Maddie Fenton, their pathetic attempt to fight him off, were nothing comparied to his training.

He had them on their knees, bound to hold still, and with one push of his finger, the toxic outlook on ghosts would die with them.

But foolish-loving Danny wasn't about to let him put them in the ground where they belonged. The boy had thrown himself in front of them with a cry, throwing up a shield seconds before the bullets found their mark.

The Fenton couple gasped while Danny turned to them with clear worry. "Are you alright?"

Tim felt as if though he was kicked in the chest, seeing the boy- for he was a boy. How had he forgotten that his love died so young? Now with all the years under Tim's belt, did he truly see how pre-maturely Danny had died.

He was as beautiful as the day Tim lost him, but he was far too pure and innocent now. Tim's killing was a necessary that ruined him, while Danny remained kind and forgiving till the end.

He can't stop the rush of air that threathens to burn tears into his eyes escape him. Thankfully his training kicks in and Batman is able to shut everything that was Tim in his mind.

All that remain was the mission within human shape.

Danny growls, voice as cold as his ice core "Who are you?!"

"I'm Batman"

"Liar!" The boy hisses, thin pieces of frost growing around his green shield. "Batman doesn't kill!"

Tim scoffs, "Killing is the only way to stop more death."

Danny doesn't respond. He merely shoots a blast at him, momentarily dropping his shield, and Batman rolls away. He will overwhelm the boy and get him out of the way.

Then, he will do what he came to accomplish. Danny must know that, for he sees the moment, he shuts away his own human part and melts into Phantom.

The young ghost who took on a King for his people and became the hero that supported Red Robin above all else.

Phantom leaps at him, and Batman meets him halfway, each wearing emotionless expressions that promise a fight to the bitter end.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #dead tired #tw: mention of suicide #Tw: painful charater death #Batman with a gun #Dark #Tim of the future trying to kill the Fentons #The fentons died with their grief before #Danny doesn't even know Tim #Is it love or is it obession at this point?#I did the best I could I don't really know that comic plot well

552 notes · View notes