elinty

[elinty]

His depressed english professor looks and his whorish soul have enchanted me + Dr. Robby + text posts

[elinty]

I just can't stop thinking about how much dr mike and dr robby look alike ehh they're both hot and smart makes sense ig.. or even like dr john carter oooo love it..

[elinty]

Wrong | O.P81

౨ৎ˚ summary -Oscar Piastri breaks every rule in the steward’s office just to hear you whisper his name

౨ৎ˚ pairing - oscar piastri x steward!reader

౨ৎ˚ warnings - suggestive

You weren't supposed to speak to the drivers.

Definitely not like this.

Especially not when one of them was Oscar Piastri, with his composed demeanour, cleverness, and the filthiest mouth hidden behind that flawless, innocent face.

You were only a steward. A regulator. A quiet and reserved person, it’s amazing how much power a clipboard and a roughened line have over the fate of a game.

He had no right looking at you as if you were the next curve he was ready to take straight out.

"That's a stern look," he muttered, lying lazily against the garage wall, his race suit ripped halfway down and fireproofs stuck to his chest. "Are you going to write me up, ma'am?"

You narrowed your eyes. "If you keep talking like that, yes."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

You complained and flipped over your paper. "You crossed the white line on the pitting exit."

"Really?" he asked, his voice smooth and low.

He moved nearer. Too near. Your pen halted in the middle of the paper.

"Possibly I was overwhelmed. "Maybe someone was staring at me with those beautiful eyes."

You bit your lips.

"Look."

"Yeah?" he asked, his crooked little smile forming the one he used just before doing something that surely would end in a penalty.

"There are cameras."

"Let them watch."

Your eyes widened just in time to notice the way his hand brushed against your waist, low and teasing.

"What's the penalty, sweetheart," he mumbled, "for thinking about you every time I hit high speed?"

"Five seconds," you said, heart pounding.

He laughed quietly and smugly. "Worth it for you”.

Later, you were alone in the hallway behind the FIA room. Cool atmosphere, shimmering lights, and thankfully no cameras.

It was definitely not the best place to be there with him.

Of course, when you turned back, he was already there, closing the door behind you.

"Are you going to lecture me now?" he said. "Tell me I'm out of line?"

"You are through," you said.

He cornered you. Not touching you yet.

"What are you going to do this time, steward?" he asked quietly. "Write me up again for thinking about your legs during qualifying?"

Your breath caught.

"Oscar…"

"Or maybe," he said, his eyes falling to your lips, "you'll finally admit that you like it when I break the rules for you."

You hated how weak and soft your knees felt when he said things like these.

Heat crawled up your neck as his fingertips barely touched the hem of your skirt.

"Mhm," he whimpered, "someone better not see you wanting to bend you over the timing desk, right?" "Or else what's the point of being a steward, right, my girl?"

You choked on air.

He smirked devilishly. Dangerous. Still not touching.

"That's what I thought," he replied, licking his lips. "Still silence. "They still let me talk dirty while wearing the badge."

Your fingers twitched by your side. You should for sure love. You should report him. You should...

He leaned in and breathed warmly on your neck.

"Tell me to stop," he stated.

You just couldn't.

"Didn't think so."

The steward's office was not meant for whatever was going on right now.

Not appropriate for shaky breaths.

Not for a Formula One driver who pushed you up against the metal file cabinets as if he wasn't the most disciplined man on the grid.

"You're going to get me fired," you shouted, palms flat against the cold desk behind you.

Oscar simply smirked, pushing you in with one arm held beside your head and the other already sliding fingertips down to your hips.

"That's rich coming from the one who keeps letting me in after hours."

You gulped hard. "I told you not to come in here—"

“"No," he said, his nose brushing your cheek. "You told me not to get caught."

Your breath caught. His hand slid dangerously low, brushing against the curve of your ass, as if he was seeing how far you'd let him go.

As if this were a further turn on the track that he could round faster if he pushed hard enough.

"What's the rule," he hissed against your ear, "about touching the stewards?"

You attempted to speak. Failed.

"Hm?" His fingers squeezed slightly. "No touching?" "Or no touching unless they ask for it?"

You shivered, your chest rising rapidly. "Oscar—"

"God, you say my name like I'm your favourite penalty."

His lips touched your jawline.

"Want me to bend you over this desk and create marks that will stop you from being so fucking beautiful all the time and not distracting me?"

Your knees nearly buckled.

"Still not stopping me," he continued, his voice smug, cocky, and cruel in the finest way.

His hand flattened against your lower back, pulling you toward him.

Is this how I get you to punish me? Hm?"

"Break another rule?"

"Talk dirty over race comms again?"

"What if I tell Lando I make you wet in FIA whites?"

You shoved him lightly, but enough. "Oscar."

He remained still. Eyes are now dark. Hungry.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

“Say my name like you did during Baku.”

You blinked. "You mean when I was screaming at you?"

"No," he interrupted. "I mean, when you came to yell at me in parc fermé, I was so fucking hard the whole time."

You actually choked. "Are you serious—"

"very much."

And suddenly his hands were on your thighs, dragging you halfway across the desk before you were able to stop him, your skirt pushing up with each inch.

The cool surface met the backs of your thighs, and his eyes fell, as if you were the podium he stands on.

"This is so wrong," you murmured, lost.

He grinned and leaned in between your legs. "Then don't moan when I am doing these things to you." The office was tense, Oscar's fingertips ghosting over your waist as if testing boundaries. Then, he let go of the tease and gave your ass a clear, hitting slap that rang around the quiet room.

You gasped as fire spread over the skin where his hand hit.

"Too soft, steward," he said with a mischievous grin. "You need to toughen up if you want to keep playing this game."

Your breath caught, your lips parted, and your gaze fixed on his, both of you charged with something electric and frightening.

"You like that, don't you?" he teased, trailing his fingers back to cup your hip and draw you closer.

You bit your lip, face all flushed, attempting to remain composed but failing miserably.

"Oscar," you whispered, your voice trembling, "what are you doing to me?"

He chuckled low, his voice dark.

"Breaking the rules. And you're enjoying every second."

Just as you were about to get back your breath, Oscar's fingers grasped your hip, and his lips brushed a slow, burning kiss along the back of your neck.

Every nerve was on fire as his breath brushed against your skin, causing you to tremble and feel your heart racing.

In a harsh voice, he whispered, "Don't you forget that you are mine."

The thought of more clung as his other hand moved down, fingers grabbing the exposed thigh beneath your skirt.

The heat of his mouth and the fire burning deep within you wrapped the words that caught in your throat when you tried to speak and stop him.

His dark and wild eyes smirked as he drew back just enough.

“I’m so screwed,” you breathed.

Oscar grinned, low and wicked.

“That’s the point.”

[elinty]

༄ - fluff | ✧-angst | ༊- dark

⁀➷ Oneshots

Coming soon…

ೃ⁀➷ Series

Coming soon…

ೃ⁀➷ Requests

Coming soon..

[elinty]

Obsession | K.M

wordcount:651

pairing:klaus mikealson x reader

summary: klaus Mikaelson is obsessed with you, and a single, desperate kiss seals your fate.

In New Orleans, the air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and something darker, something that was unmistakably Klaus Mikaelson.

He was full of an ancient sort of attraction.

Rumours of the city's magical underworld had drawn you here in search of a fresh start. He was something you weren't expecting.

The name Niklaus Mikaelson was not unnoticeable. A legend, a monster, and a monarch.

They had warned you to avoid him, but warnings didn't really matter when his eyes met yours at a dimly lit Royal Street jazz bar.

Leaning against the bar with the confidence that only centuries of life could bring, he was devastatingly beautiful.

The city's heartbeat suddenly synced with his as his blue eyes focused on you.

He whispered, "You must be new here," in a tone that was pleased and a silky guarantee of trouble.

You tilted your head unimpressively to meet his gaze. "And you must think that line still works."

Instead of struggling, his chuckle grew more intense.

Refusing to give him the upper hand, you crossed your arms and continued, "I'm just not easily impressed."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Is that so?"

This was Klaus, he was everywhere after that night. A shadow hovering at the edges of your life, never quite touching but always there. Roses showed up at your door with an unsigned message, but it was obvious. As if you didn't know any better, he showed up at your favourite café, all charm and false coincidence.

His gaze would linger a moment too long, a smirk hidden behind his coffee cup, and you could almost feel his eyes on you even when he wasn’t there.

Additionally, the body parts of another vampire who made the mistake by approaching you too closely were discovered in the alley behind the apartment as a cruel and quiet reminder that you were his to keep safe. There was no need for words.

There was nothing for him to say because you knew what it meant.

The way he chased you was intoxicating. When it came to you, a man who had everything seemed to become even more hungry.

He stood behind you one evening on his lavish estate's balcony, his breath warm against your skin.

"You should fear me," he whispered. "I am not the kind of man who loves softly."

You looked up into his eyes. "Maybe I don’t want you to be soft."

A part of him snapped.

You were trapped by his hands against the railing in a flash of speed.

A storm created inside of him caused his eyes to darken.

He threatened, "I would destroy you," in a voice full of intensity and a hint of affection.

Whispering, "Then destroy me,"

And then his lips crashed against yours, centuries of longing pouring into the kiss. It was possessive, desperate like he had been starving for you long before you ever existed.

Klaus's hands moved to your waist and held onto you as if he were afraid you could escape.

Centuries of loneliness and need compressed into a single, desperate moment, his kiss was fire and fury. You were something he needed, not simply something he wanted.

His breath was worked when he finally pulled out, resting his forehead against yours. In a respectful yet possessive manner, his fingers caressed your jaw.

His voice was thick with something dangerously near to vulnerability as he whispered, "Love, you don't understand what you're inviting." "I won't let go."

Unfazed, you looked him in the eye. "I don't want you to, maybe."

He let out a quick exhale that was half disbelief and half laughter. His dark, unreadable face took over across your lips as his thumb did.

"A stupid little thing," he said. . “You’ve no idea what you’ve done to me.”

For a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson was a ruler, a monster, and a symbol of strength and evil. Damage was his closest companion, and ruin stalked behind him like a shadow. But something changed, something beautiful and terrifying as he whispered your name in between lips.

At last, he had discovered his weakness.

And it was you.

a/n: yall my first fic of tvd/originals how we feeling?? this type of fic is kinda like my other ones but yk that’s what I love to write sooo yeah !! Also thinking about writing Elijah I think he’s a great character to write so tell me what yall think??

[elinty]

Behind the Scenes | L.N

summary : ̗̀➛In the face of increasing tension, you and Lando have a deep and secret attraction.

pairing: ̗̀➛ Lando Norris x Journalist!reader

word count: ̗̀➛ 1,038

The paddock became a cold, dark mess as the rain continued to pour down. Desperate to get away from the storm, drivers and team members hurried between motor homes, heads down. However, you were forced to stand in the media pen with your microphone in hand and pretend that the rain wasn't getting inside your jacket.

It wasn't the worst part, though.

The worst part was him.

With his arms folded across his McLaren fireproofs, Lando stood a few steps away, adjusting himself. Even though his hair was wet and there were water drops running down his jaw, he looked calm and beautiful as usual, other than the glint of annoyance in his eyes.

That look was too familiar to you.

He had no intention to do this.

But neither did you.

because nobody was aware.

Nobody was aware that you were his, that every harsh comment made during a news conference was met with hushed regrets in hotel rooms, that every long look across the paddock resulted in tangled sheets and desperate kisses behind locked doors.

He had to act as though none of it was genuine at the moment.

The camera light went red, and you took a short breath, taming your facial features into something calm. It's showtime.

"Lando," you said in a firm voice. "P9 today. Not exactly where you expected to end."

He let out a breath and cocked his head. "fit analysis."

His tone was biting, but you overlooked it. "After the pit stop, it appeared that you were having trouble maintaining your hold.”

“Could you explain what happened ?”

Lando's mouth tightened. "I can. But you probably already have your own version of the story.”

You twisted the microphone in your fingers. He was pushing and testing. As he always did when he was angry. And with half the paddock acting as if they weren't listening, you couldn't react the way you wanted to.

You looked at him sharply. "I would prefer to hear it from you."

There was a flash in his eyes. Frustrated? Laughs? More than that?

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his damp curls.

“After the pitstop , the vehicle lacked speed. The undercut didn't operate as we had hoped. That's all.”

You raised an eyebrow. "That simple?"  

There was a faint twitch in his lips. "It can be that simple sometimes."

The wind whipped between you as the rain pummelled harder. Only you and Lando were aware of the tension, even if some of the other drivers had turned their heads.

How much he wanted to be near you.

How much you wanted to reach for him and break the rules.

You cleared your throat instead. “ Final question. On the radio, you sounded irritated. Was the team the target of that, or—

Lando shifted on his feet and sighed. "Is it fun to put me on the spot?"

You suppressed a grin.“It’s my job, Norris.”

His eyes darkened, but now something else was there, something that, regardless of the cold, made you feel hot.  

A few seconds later, he leaned in a little and spoke in a voice that only you could hear.

“Can’t wait for you to do your job later.”

Your breath caught. It was clear what he meant when he talked.

You were about to argue, scold him, or do something, but he was already backing off and smiling at the cameras as if nothing had happened.  

Lando Norris disappeared into the rain in a matter of seconds, leaving you breathless, nervous, and eager to see what would happen behind closed doors.

The rain had turned to a light drizzle by the time you finished your interviews and returned to the paddock. The cameras had stopped recording, the media pen had been cleared, and the majority of the drivers had gone to their garages

Lando, however, was waiting.

You saw him with his arms crossed and his hood up, leaning against the McLaren entrance .

He appeared to be just another driver dodging the rain to anyone else, but you knew better. His lips curved into something knowing and arrogant the instant your eyes met.

Despite rolling your eyes, you moved in his direction and slipped through the sliding doors. You walked as you got shivers down your spine from him following you.

"You were having fun with that, weren't you?" You mumbled without looking back.

"Having fun with what?" He teased in a quiet voice.

With a sigh, you let your bag fall onto a chair. "acting like an absolute ass in front of everybody."

A laugh. Then, his hands holding you waist just enough to cause you to let out a bit strongly.  

He said, his breath warm against your neck, "You like it when I push you."

You took a long breath, rolled your eyes, and turned to glare up at him." “I like it when you act professional for few minutes so I don’t have to work twice as hard to clean up your mess.”

Lando tilted his head and grinned. "You enjoy cleaning up my mess."

You were about to start an argument but as soon as you opened your mouth he pressed his lips to yours, closing the gap between you.

His hands moved up your sides and wrapped around your jacket as if he needed you closer during the slow but meaningful kiss.

The tension from earlier melted into something else, something powerful, and you melted into him  with your hands grabbing the fabric of his race suit.

"Are you still upset with me?" he whispered, stepping back just enough.

Your eyes narrowed. "You're crazy"

Lando smiled. "But here you are anyway."  

He simply laughed and grabbed your wrist before you could get away, despite your yelling and pulling at his chest.

"Stay," he said, his tone now softer and more serious.  

Your determination failed. You were supposed to return to the press room, edit interviews, and pretend that nothing was going on. However, here, in private, with Lando staring at you like this.

You let out a breath. "Only for a short time."

He smiled mischievously. "You said that the last time."

You already knew you weren't going anywhere, just like the last time.

a/n: if you have requests lemme know! Also im really excited for the first race of the season!!

[elinty]

*yells into the void* HELLO??? Anyone here???

IMM HEREEEE😩 and im back with 2 fics guys soon 🥹like tmrw💋

[elinty]

omg we need a pt2 on shattered promise !!! xx i love ur tom x reader ficss 💘

wait guys I’m finally back after so long!!😭😭anyways trust imma get to it soon and thank u🤭 it’s coming promise 🤞🏼

[elinty]

hey hey!! how’s everything going?? 💜

helloooo🫶🏼🫶🏼 everything is going greatt!! Except for school… but that’s okay and writing some ficsss..!!! Anyways how are youu???💌

[elinty]

Guidelines ୨ৎ

hello my loves welcome to my guidelines!

I will write fluff and angst but no actual smut only suggestive. I won’t write anything that is problematic. You can request anything as long as it is not offensive or weird and I will try my best to write it.

people who I often write :

Tom Riddle.Charles Leclerc. Lando Norris. Damon Salvatore. Klaus Mikealson

guys this blog is only for fun and I am not a very good writer but I love to write so that’s why I made this blog! hope you guys will enjoy this blog<3

[elinty]

Behind the Scenes | L.N

summary : ̗̀➛In the face of increasing tension, you and Lando have a deep and secret attraction.

pairing: ̗̀➛ Lando Norris x Journalist!reader

word count: ̗̀➛ 1,038

The paddock became a cold, dark mess as the rain continued to pour down. Desperate to get away from the storm, drivers and team members hurried between motor homes, heads down. However, you were forced to stand in the media pen with your microphone in hand and pretend that the rain wasn't getting inside your jacket.

It wasn't the worst part, though.

The worst part was him.

With his arms folded across his McLaren fireproofs, Lando stood a few steps away, adjusting himself. Even though his hair was wet and there were water drops running down his jaw, he looked calm and beautiful as usual, other than the glint of annoyance in his eyes.

That look was too familiar to you.

He had no intention to do this.

But neither did you.

because nobody was aware.

Nobody was aware that you were his, that every harsh comment made during a news conference was met with hushed regrets in hotel rooms, that every long look across the paddock resulted in tangled sheets and desperate kisses behind locked doors.

He had to act as though none of it was genuine at the moment.

The camera light went red, and you took a short breath, taming your facial features into something calm. It's showtime.

"Lando," you said in a firm voice. "P9 today. Not exactly where you expected to end."

He let out a breath and cocked his head. "fit analysis."

His tone was biting, but you overlooked it. "After the pit stop, it appeared that you were having trouble maintaining your hold.”

“Could you explain what happened ?”

Lando's mouth tightened. "I can. But you probably already have your own version of the story.”

You twisted the microphone in your fingers. He was pushing and testing. As he always did when he was angry. And with half the paddock acting as if they weren't listening, you couldn't react the way you wanted to.

You looked at him sharply. "I would prefer to hear it from you."

There was a flash in his eyes. Frustrated? Laughs? More than that?

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his damp curls.

“After the pitstop , the vehicle lacked speed. The undercut didn't operate as we had hoped. That's all.”

You raised an eyebrow. "That simple?"  

There was a faint twitch in his lips. "It can be that simple sometimes."

The wind whipped between you as the rain pummelled harder. Only you and Lando were aware of the tension, even if some of the other drivers had turned their heads.

How much he wanted to be near you.

How much you wanted to reach for him and break the rules.

You cleared your throat instead. “ Final question. On the radio, you sounded irritated. Was the team the target of that, or—

Lando shifted on his feet and sighed. "Is it fun to put me on the spot?"

You suppressed a grin.“It’s my job, Norris.”

His eyes darkened, but now something else was there, something that, regardless of the cold, made you feel hot.  

A few seconds later, he leaned in a little and spoke in a voice that only you could hear.

“Can’t wait for you to do your job later.”

Your breath caught. It was clear what he meant when he talked.

You were about to argue, scold him, or do something, but he was already backing off and smiling at the cameras as if nothing had happened.  

Lando Norris disappeared into the rain in a matter of seconds, leaving you breathless, nervous, and eager to see what would happen behind closed doors.

The rain had turned to a light drizzle by the time you finished your interviews and returned to the paddock. The cameras had stopped recording, the media pen had been cleared, and the majority of the drivers had gone to their garages

Lando, however, was waiting.

You saw him with his arms crossed and his hood up, leaning against the McLaren entrance .

He appeared to be just another driver dodging the rain to anyone else, but you knew better. His lips curved into something knowing and arrogant the instant your eyes met.

Despite rolling your eyes, you moved in his direction and slipped through the sliding doors. You walked as you got shivers down your spine from him following you.

"You were having fun with that, weren't you?" You mumbled without looking back.

"Having fun with what?" He teased in a quiet voice.

With a sigh, you let your bag fall onto a chair. "acting like an absolute ass in front of everybody."

A laugh. Then, his hands holding you waist just enough to cause you to let out a bit strongly.  

He said, his breath warm against your neck, "You like it when I push you."

You took a long breath, rolled your eyes, and turned to glare up at him." “I like it when you act professional for few minutes so I don’t have to work twice as hard to clean up your mess.”

Lando tilted his head and grinned. "You enjoy cleaning up my mess."

You were about to start an argument but as soon as you opened your mouth he pressed his lips to yours, closing the gap between you.

His hands moved up your sides and wrapped around your jacket as if he needed you closer during the slow but meaningful kiss.

The tension from earlier melted into something else, something powerful, and you melted into him  with your hands grabbing the fabric of his race suit.

"Are you still upset with me?" he whispered, stepping back just enough.

Your eyes narrowed. "You're crazy"

Lando smiled. "But here you are anyway."  

He simply laughed and grabbed your wrist before you could get away, despite your yelling and pulling at his chest.

"Stay," he said, his tone now softer and more serious.  

Your determination failed. You were supposed to return to the press room, edit interviews, and pretend that nothing was going on. However, here, in private, with Lando staring at you like this.

You let out a breath. "Only for a short time."

He smiled mischievously. "You said that the last time."

You already knew you weren't going anywhere, just like the last time.

a/n: if you have requests lemme know! Also im really excited for the first race of the season!!

[elinty]

Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!!💖

helloooo this is soo sweet and cute??!!! 🫣🤭 love uuu!!

[elinty]

Obsession | K.M

wordcount:651

pairing:klaus mikealson x reader

summary: klaus Mikaelson is obsessed with you, and a single, desperate kiss seals your fate.

In New Orleans, the air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and something darker, something that was unmistakably Klaus Mikaelson.

He was full of an ancient sort of attraction.

Rumours of the city's magical underworld had drawn you here in search of a fresh start. He was something you weren't expecting.

The name Niklaus Mikaelson was not unnoticeable. A legend, a monster, and a monarch.

They had warned you to avoid him, but warnings didn't really matter when his eyes met yours at a dimly lit Royal Street jazz bar.

Leaning against the bar with the confidence that only centuries of life could bring, he was devastatingly beautiful.

The city's heartbeat suddenly synced with his as his blue eyes focused on you.

He whispered, "You must be new here," in a tone that was pleased and a silky guarantee of trouble.

You tilted your head unimpressively to meet his gaze. "And you must think that line still works."

Instead of struggling, his chuckle grew more intense.

Refusing to give him the upper hand, you crossed your arms and continued, "I'm just not easily impressed."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Is that so?"

This was Klaus, he was everywhere after that night. A shadow hovering at the edges of your life, never quite touching but always there. Roses showed up at your door with an unsigned message, but it was obvious. As if you didn't know any better, he showed up at your favourite café, all charm and false coincidence.

His gaze would linger a moment too long, a smirk hidden behind his coffee cup, and you could almost feel his eyes on you even when he wasn’t there.

Additionally, the body parts of another vampire who made the mistake by approaching you too closely were discovered in the alley behind the apartment as a cruel and quiet reminder that you were his to keep safe. There was no need for words.

There was nothing for him to say because you knew what it meant.

The way he chased you was intoxicating. When it came to you, a man who had everything seemed to become even more hungry.

He stood behind you one evening on his lavish estate's balcony, his breath warm against your skin.

"You should fear me," he whispered. "I am not the kind of man who loves softly."

You looked up into his eyes. "Maybe I don’t want you to be soft."

A part of him snapped.

You were trapped by his hands against the railing in a flash of speed.

A storm created inside of him caused his eyes to darken.

He threatened, "I would destroy you," in a voice full of intensity and a hint of affection.

Whispering, "Then destroy me,"

And then his lips crashed against yours, centuries of longing pouring into the kiss. It was possessive, desperate like he had been starving for you long before you ever existed.

Klaus's hands moved to your waist and held onto you as if he were afraid you could escape.

Centuries of loneliness and need compressed into a single, desperate moment, his kiss was fire and fury. You were something he needed, not simply something he wanted.

His breath was worked when he finally pulled out, resting his forehead against yours. In a respectful yet possessive manner, his fingers caressed your jaw.

His voice was thick with something dangerously near to vulnerability as he whispered, "Love, you don't understand what you're inviting." "I won't let go."

Unfazed, you looked him in the eye. "I don't want you to, maybe."

He let out a quick exhale that was half disbelief and half laughter. His dark, unreadable face took over across your lips as his thumb did.

"A stupid little thing," he said. . “You’ve no idea what you’ve done to me.”

For a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson was a ruler, a monster, and a symbol of strength and evil. Damage was his closest companion, and ruin stalked behind him like a shadow. But something changed, something beautiful and terrifying as he whispered your name in between lips.

At last, he had discovered his weakness.

And it was you.

a/n: yall my first fic of tvd/originals how we feeling?? this type of fic is kinda like my other ones but yk that’s what I love to write sooo yeah !! Also thinking about writing Elijah I think he’s a great character to write so tell me what yall think??

[elinty]

❦.

[elinty]

Marked | T.R

Pairing :Tom Riddle x reader

summary : You ran. He found you. Now, you’re his again.

wordcount :758

It was peaceful in the village at night.

The brightness of flickering streetlamps was softened by a cooling mist that twisted through the dark streets.

It was the kind of place where secrets could be buried under everyday life and where people weren't asking lots of questions.

That's why you chose it.

Nothing magical. Not history. No him.

After working at a little bookstore, you walked home with your hands buried in your cloak and breathed in the chilled air. While your new life was safe, the silence was terrible in its own way. You couldn't afford to take safety for granted, either.

Then..

Something whispered.

The backs of your neck stood on end.

It felt wrong, the magic in the air. Known. It's obvious.

No. It was not possible. You took caution. There was no sign of you.

Pulse pounding, you approached the corner more quickly. You could see your tiny cottage. The entrance could be locked. Put on protective care. Go into hiding.

However, he was already there as you reached for the door.

Did you really think you could escape me?"

This was a smooth voice. It's too smooth. As though he found your stupidity amusing.

You turned slowly.

Standing in the shadows in the doorway, his black robes untouched by the wet night air, was Tom Riddle. His expression was a flawless mask of icy laughter, but his eyes , his eyes burned.

"You're not real," you murmured in a whisper while struggling to breathe."You're a hallucination."

He smiled, but his look lacked humour. "Am I?"

You backed to the door as he stepped forward slowly.

You hissed, "I killed you..,

"I made sure of it."

"You tried," he said, arching his head a little. "But you should know by now death isn’t something that applies to me."

Your stomach twisted around. This was not possible. After years of running, hiding, and making sure he wasn't alive but here he was.

"You belonged to me," he added, his tone suddenly quieter and threatening. "And you thought you could simply leave?"

Your fists clinched. "I was never yours."

His expression hardened, but his smile remained unwavering.

"That’s where you’re wrong."

You sensed the power surrounding you like invisible ties with just one quick turn of his wrist. Your breath froze as your body became still, rendering your own power useless against his.

He had complete control.

"You’re afraid," he said, taking a step toward her. "Not of me, though. Not really, no."

He lightly touched your jaw with his fingers, sending a chill down your spine.

He repeated, pushing your chin up so you had to look him in the eye, "You're afraid because part of you doesn't hate this as much as you should."

You should hate it.

You should stop him, you should fight, yell, and set everything on fire.

But his voice it sank into your bones, surrounding your determination like a knot his touch was seductive, his grip was firm.

Tom went on, "You betrayed me," as he slowly and possessively ran his other hand down your arm. "And yet… I find that I don’t want to kill you."

Your breath caught when you made the admission.

You sensed the shadow of his mark as his fingers moved down to your wrist. The one he had put on you ages ago, which bound you to him in ways that could not be broken by magic.

You burned yourself raw in an attempt to get rid of it.

It remains.

A silent, cruel claim.

"You’ve been running," he thought, observing you as though you were a fragile thing that he was deciding whether to break. “You assumed I wouldn't notice. That I wouldn't care."

His gaze darted to your lips as he let out a breath.

He said, "Do you know what I hate most?"

You took a breath.

"That even after all this time " He traced the mark on your wrist with his fingers. "I still want you back."

There was a slow, uncomfortable silence between you.

As his nails dug into your flesh and his grip tightened, your heart raced.

"You have two choices," he whispered to her. "Come with me freely”

His gaze grew dark.

"Or I'll take you."

There was a real, heavy, and obvious danger.

A decision that wasn't really a decision.

Your breath trembled. He was already winning. He had always won.

Because you had never really escaped, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.

He still had you.

He knew it.

A/N : Soo.. I am alive guys sorry that I haven't posted in soo long but I am back and better then ever!! I sadly won't post the Charles leclerc fic but any other requests you guys have I'll do! I know this type of story has been written many times so gimme some ideas.!

[elinty]

Beyond The Finish Line | CL16

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

summary: A heartfelt moment helps Charles find comfort and self-worth beyond failure.

genre: angst with a fluffy ending

I found him in the quiet paddock. Too silent. It’s completely still, like if it's keeping its air.

Charles remained in the Ferrari garage, leaned on a folding chair with his head in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees. I paused at the doorway, observing him for a while. He appeared so small, in contrast to the confident man who drove the car.

I hated seeing him like this.

“Charles?” I whispered.

He didn't raise his head. "Go home," he said, entering nevertheless and shutting the door. "No chance. Do you think I'll let you spend the entire night sitting alone?

No reply. My heart hurt even more when he remained quiet.

"Charles," I said once more, harder this time, and moved across the room to face him. "Speak to me."

When he did look up, his emerald eyes had become worn and red-rimmed. "What is there to discuss?"

"You tell me."

With a sigh, he leaned back and gazed at the ceiling. "I failed everyone. The team. The supporters. Myself. Once more.

When he finished speaking, his voice broke, and it took everything in me not to pull him into my arms right then and there.

I said, sitting in front of him so he couldn't avoid my eyes, "You didn't let anyone down." "Charles, you put your all out there. All anyone can ask is that.

"It's not enough," he replied angrily. "It never is."

"It's for me."

At that, he froze. His eyes slowly came into contact with mine, and I could see his confusion and doubt there. His voice was raw and gentle as he said, "Why?" "When I keep failing, why do you still believe in me?"

My heart began to crumble even more. Before I could question my words, I blurted out, "Because I know who you are." Charles, you're more than just a driver to me. You're a tough person who plays this sport. You're a good person who truly cares about others. That's the reason.

He simply looked at me for a moment, as though he was unsure whether or not he could trust me. Then he let out an anxious breath and combed his hair.

"To me, you're too good," he whispered.

"You make it easy," I replied, smiling a little.

It was like light seeping through the clouds as an eerie image of a smile grasped at his lips.

I stood up and extended my hand, saying, "Come on." "Let's leave this place."

He hesitated and asked, "Where?" "Anywhere but here."

He told me he used to go to this view outside the city when he was younger. In the distance, the car's lights sparkled, yet everything seemed darker here. less noisy.

With his arms folded, Charles gazed out at the scenery while leaning against the hood of my car. After some time, he said, "I used to come here whenever I needed to think."

"What were your thoughts?" As I stood next to him, I asked.

"Me winning. proving myself. bringing honour to my father. The softening of his voice as he spoke about his father made my heart hurt.

"And now?" I lightly pushed. "Now." He walked off staring at the horizon. "Now, I question whether it was all worth it."

My chest tightened as I turned to face him. "Stop saying that."

"It's true," he said quietly. Something always happens just when I believe I'm getting closer. A mistake, a collision, fate... I feel like I'm pursuing a goal that is impossible.

I put my hand on his arm and moved ahead of him. "Listen to me, Charles. You are more than all that you accomplish. More than the victories or losses. You have no one to prove anything to. Not to yourself, not to the team, and not to the supporters.

For some time, the pain in his eyes was nearly unbearable as he gave me a serious look.

"You think that's true?" he said quietly.

"With all my heart," I said in a firm voice.

I could sense the change in the atmosphere between us—the hidden bond that had always existed but was simply waiting for the proper time.

With a slight smile on his lips, he continued, "You know, I don't think I've ever thanked you for putting up with me."

In an attempt to lighten the situation, I mocked, "You haven't." However, I thought it was stated.

His laughter was warm and sincere. Thank you for everything."I answered, scarcely raising my voice above a whisper, "Charles, you don't have to thank me." "I want to be here, so I am."

For a minute, it seemed as though the world disappeared and there were only the two of us as his face softened. He gently put his hand against mine and linked his fingers with mine.

“He said, his voice a little shaky, "I don't know where I'd be without you."

I squeezed his hand and whispered, "You don't have to." "I won't be leaving."

Then he giggled, a genuine smile that extended to his eyes. And that night, for the first time, I caught a glimpse of the Charles I knew—the one who never gave up.

I came to a conclusion as we stood hand in hand. He might never have the same level of self-confidence that I did. However, I would remind him whenever I could while I was here.

Because he had already won in my eyes.

A/N: guys this is lowkey bad but hope you enjoyed this!! anyways im working on the Charles Leclerc series and i think you guys are gonna like it!!!

[elinty]

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