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cheftsunoda · 21 days ago

Note

walk with me…

charles x lewis x reader! but wait….………………sainz!reader….i know, crazy! i’m a madman, call the cops. potential plot (i’ll take anything at this point, lewis never gets poly fics and im starving!) readers’s been dating charles for a while, lewis comes to ferrari, reader and charles are down bad for him. what’s worse? reader hates williams blue and refuses to wear it even to support her brother. it drives carlos crazy and everyone else finds it hilarious!

i never request but your writing has moved me, got me reading about drivers i don’t even like, that’s crazy! love you, please never stop writing!

forza ferrari - cl16 & lh44

smau + blurbs

charles leclerc x !sainz reader x lewis hamilton

carlos sainz x !sister reader

yn loves her big brother dearly- but her heart has always been with ferrari...quite literally. yn and charles have been dating for a little over two years and even though carlos has departed and has a new team- he can never get yn out of ferrari red. he especially won't be able to after she starts dating both ferrari drivers.

fc : saradeanii on ig (and i used a few pics of alex lol)

(a/n) : thank you so much for the love my angel. im so glad you enjoy my work!! love u smmmm.

such a cute ideaaaa. big brother carlos has had me in a chokehold since i wrote heal your heart.

f1gossipgirls

910,204 likes.

f1gossipgirls : YN Sainz was seen in the paddock decked out in Ferrari gear (this is the 6th time this season)...even when visiting her brother in the Williams garage. We love the dedication, YN!

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username00 : “support your brother” she is — from the wrong garage ��

username8 : this woman would rather be set on fire than wear Williams merch

↳ yn_sainz : yes i quite literally would

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williamsracing : yn, please.

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↳ yn_sainz : idk who u r stop bothering me

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username10 : ferrari PR really hit the jackpot with this one

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↳ scuderiaferrari : yn keeps the ferrari fan base alive and breathing

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lando : @/carlossainz55

↳ alexalbon : @/carlossainz55

↳ charles_leclerc : @/carlossainz55

↳ georgerussell63 : @/carlossainz55

↳ yn_sainz : @/carlossainz55

↳ carlossainz55 : guys please. im aware. ive just given up.

↳ alexalbon : i tried to give her a williams cap and she threatened me and pushed it off the table with her fork.

liked by yn_sainz and f1gossipgirls

I walked confidently down the paddock, decked head to toe in my Ferrari jacket, red-tinted sunglasses, and a cherry-colored mini skirt I definitely didn’t pick for subtlety. Heads turned. Some fans cheered. Some of the Williams crew actually groaned. It was exactly the reaction I wanted. I spotted Carlos near the entrance to the garage, mid-chat with someone from his team. He didn’t see me yet, but I could tell from the way Lando caught sight of me and immediately started grinning that this was about to become a moment.

“Oh no,” Lando said dramatically, nudging Carlos with his elbow. “Don’t turn around.”

Carlos froze. “Why?”

“Your sister’s here,” Lando replied, already snickering.

Carlos sighed. “And she’s wearing it again, isn’t she.”

I didn’t even wait to be acknowledged—I launched myself straight into a hug. “Hola, hermanito,” I said in my sweetest voice, squeezing him tight.

He looked down at me, scowling. “Seriously? In my garage? Again?”

“What?” I blinked innocently. “This is my neutral outfit.”

“It’s red. And Ferrari. That’s the opposite of neutral ground."

Alex Albon walked by, did a double take, and cackled. “She’s got the entire Ferrari look on. I think that’s even a team-issued hat.”

“It is,” I said proudly, turning around. “Limited edition. Only for girlfriends, siblings, or traitors.”

Carlos threw his head back in pain. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh come on,” Lando chimed in. “At least she shows up. That’s love.”

“That’s delusion,” Carlos snapped.

“You’re just mad I’m color-coordinated,” I replied, smoothing my skirt like I was on a runway. “Besides, red brings out my eyes.”

“You could wear blue. Just once. Please.”

I gasped, horrified. “Absolutely not. I have standards.”

Lando was practically folded over with laughter, and Alex had pulled out his phone and was already recording us.

Carlos turned to his engineer and mumbled, “I’m an only child. I don’t know who that is.”

I just smiled sweetly and handed him a little Ferrari sticker I had in my purse. “Here. For morale.”

He looked at it like it was poison.

Leaving Carlos to sulk in his navy nightmare felt like a personal victory. I walked back down the paddock toward the Ferrari garage, flipping my ponytail over my shoulder and ignoring the looks I got on the way.

Charles was leaning against the garage wall, sipping from his water bottle, sunglasses on. He spotted me and smirked immediately.

“There she is,” he called. “Williams’ favorite enemy.”

“I’m a symbol of brand loyalty,” I said, grinning as I walked right into his open arms. He pressed a light kiss to my forehead. He gave me one of those squishy, familiar hugs that made me feel like home.

“How bad was it?” he asked, pulling away to adjust the collar of my jacket.

“Carlos is two eye twitches away from changing his last name,” I said sweetly. “I gave him a Ferrari sticker. Thought it might help.”

Charles laughed. “You’re the reason he’s going to age prematurely."

“Good,” I replied, just as Lewis strolled out of the garage, helmet in one hand, towel slung around his neck.

The second our eyes met, his smile stretched wide.

“Should’ve known all that noise was you,” Lewis said, voice rich and teasing. “I heard dramatic sighing all the way down the pit lane.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, feigning innocence. “I’ve been a perfect guest.”

“She terrorized an entire garage.” Charles muttered.

Lewis grinned and looked me up and down—not in a gross way, just… appreciative. “I mean. If you’re gonna commit to a color, at least it looks this good.”

“You trying to win me over to Ferrari too?” I teased, stepping a little closer.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Who says I haven’t already?”

My stomach did that annoying fluttery thing, and I caught Charles side-eyeing us.

“Okay,” Charles said with a smirk. “Can we not flirt while I’m literally standing right here?”

“I wasn’t flirting,” I said quickly.

“You definitely were,” both of them replied.

I rolled my eyes and held out my hands. “Well, come on then. Escort me, gentlemen. Let’s make an entrance.”

Charles looped his arm through mine with a sigh. Lewis took the other side like it was the most natural thing in the world. As we walked, I felt Lewis’ thumb brush lightly against the back of my hand. Just a touch. Barely there. But it lingered. And I let it.

yn_sainz

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55 & 5,070,002 others.

yn_sainz : live laugh love ferrari

tagged : carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and scuderiaferrari

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username0 : the roblox meme im screaming. she is one of us.

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alexalbon : live laugh love betrayal

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carlossainz55 : can someone please tell her i drive for WILLIAMS now.

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↳ yn_sainz : who is william and why is he holding my brother hostage

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↳ carlossainz55 : i give up

lando : why weren't you like this when he was at mclaren

↳ yn_sainz : because mclaren sucks

↳ lando : honestly fair

scuderiaferrari : this year is our year.

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↳ yn_sainz : they are going to throw us in the same padded cell admin

↳ scuderiaferrari : no one id rather be stuck with

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charles_leclerc : forever glad you chose me...and ferrari

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↳ yn_sainz : even if you leave ferrari...i am staying.

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lewishamilton : no one was even paying attention to charles and i with you, roscoe and leo there :)

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time skip - mid season.

The cabin lights were low, casting everything in that dim golden glow that always made private flights feel like a dream. Outside, clouds rolled endlessly beneath us, cotton-soft and untouchable. Inside, everything was quiet. Calm. For once. Charles was somewhere toward the back of the jet, still half-typing something on his phone, while I wandered forward from my seat, stretching my legs. That’s when I saw him.

Lewis.

He’d fallen asleep curled on the corner couch—long legs bent awkwardly, hoodie pulled up over half his face, mouth parted just a little. His hand was still loosely holding his phone, like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all. I froze, just for a second.

It hit me then—how peaceful he looked. How rare that was. He was always on—smiling, focused, constantly carrying a million expectations that most people could never even understand. But here, in the soft hum of the jet, he looked like just Lewis. My friend. My… whatever he was now.

I grabbed one of the blankets from the overhead compartment and walked quietly over to him. Gently, I took the phone from his hand, setting it on the nearby seat. He didn’t stir. Then I draped the blanket over him, careful not to wake him. He sighed, shifted slightly, and then stilled again. I just stood there for a moment. Watching. Heart too full and too confused at once.

“Do you do that often?” came Charles’ voice, soft and low behind me.

I turned slowly. He was leaning against the wall, watching. Not upset. Not surprised. Just… knowing.

“Do what?”

“Take care of him like that,” he said. “Without thinking twice.”

I looked back at Lewis, the blanket rising and falling gently with his breathing. “I guess I didn’t realize I was doing it until recently.”

Charles nodded and crossed the space to sit beside me on the edge of the opposite couch. We both stared at Lewis for a long moment.

“I’ve been trying not to say it,” he murmured. “Because I thought maybe it would go away. That it was just the three of us spending too much time together. That it was… a phase.”

I didn’t look at him yet. I couldn’t. I was too afraid I already knew what he was about to say. So I said it first.

“I like him. Like I really do."

The silence that followed was heavier than the engines.

I felt Charles’ gaze flick to me. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.”

I finally turned my head. His eyes were glassy, but he wasn’t pulling away. If anything, he looked a little relieved to finally say it out loud.

“It’s not just a crush,” I added, needing to hear it spoken aloud. “It’s not… I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“I know,” Charles said. “Me neither. And it’s not instead of you. It’s not one or the other.”

My throat tightened. “Same.”

We sat there in the stillness, in the weight of honesty, with Lewis breathing quietly just a few feet away—completely unaware.

“I used to think you were the person I wanted forever,” Charles said softly. “And I still do. But maybe he is, too. In a different way.”

I reached out, linking my pinky with his. “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered. “And I love you. I always will.”

A beat passed.

“Do you think he feels it, too?” I asked, the question barely more than breath.

Charles smiled faintly. “I'm not sure but I don't think he would light up like he does around us if he didn't.”

I looked back at Lewis. His hoodie had slipped slightly, revealing the curve of his jaw, the line of his lashes against his cheeks. We’d spent months traveling together, laughing, getting closer without ever naming it. Somewhere along the way, our friendship had started to feel like something sacred. Like a secret we were all quietly protecting. I wanted to wake him. I wanted to say, Do you feel it too? Is this real? Are we already a we? But instead, I leaned into Charles’ side and rested my head on his shoulder.

“We’re going to have to tell him eventually,” I said.

“Eventually,” Charles agreed. “But for now…”

We watched him sleep. For now, this moment—honest and quiet and full of possibility—was enough.

yourusername

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yourusername : ferrari family vacay

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scuderiaferrari : where was my invite??

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↳ yn_sainz : don't play w me rn admin. i'll drop the addy.

↳ scuderiaferrari : omw. taking the company jet.

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franciscagomes : you literally own the color red. like no one has ever looked as good as you do.

liked by yn_sainz, charles_leclerc and lewishamilton

↳ yn_sainz : love u love u love u. come gimme a kisssss

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carlossainz55 : you do know that we are family?

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : yes we do share the same name and dna carlitos

↳ carlossainz55 : where was my invite?

↳ yn_sainz : you lost your invite when you started driving for that william guy

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charles_leclerc : best vacation ever. ❤

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alexalbon : how does one even own this much red??

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↳ yn_sainz : the same way you own that disgusting blue color

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username10 : yn!! carlando, charlos or carbono??

↳ yn_sainz : the feeling of watching your brother and boyfriend fall in love with each other is gut wrenching and alex is annoying me atm so carlando.

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↳ alexalbon : what she say fuck me for??

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↳ lando : i knew you liked me yn

↳ yn_sainz : do not get your hopes up. i only deal with you because carlos is madly in love with you.

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The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting everything in that golden-hour haze that made the ocean look like melted gold. The yacht rocked gently beneath us, anchored just far enough out that the only sounds were waves lapping against the hull and the occasional burst of laughter. I was curled up on a sunbed with a drink in hand, still wearing my bikini but now draped in one of Charles’ oversized Ferrari hoodies. It smelled like salt and sunscreen and him. Leo was snoring at my feet, paws twitching in his sleep.

Lewis walked over first, shirtless and sun-kissed, holding two cold lemon drinks and offering one out without a word. I smiled up at him.

“You’re spoiling me,” I said, taking it.

“Someone’s gotta,” he teased, settling down beside me and slinging an arm over the back of the lounger. His fingers brushed the back of my neck and stayed there—casual, but warm. Familiar.

A few seconds later, Charles flopped down on my other side, still damp from his swim, curls dripping onto the towel wrapped around his shoulders. “Leo’s living his best life,” he murmured, reaching to rub the sleeping dog’s belly.

“Leo’s not the only one,” I said, smiling into my glass. Because how could I not be? With the sea breeze in my hair, Charles pressed against my side, and Lewis’ fingers now gently tracing patterns at the nape of my neck.

Charles looked over at Lewis and nudged him with his foot. “We should do this more often.”

“What, take a yacht out and pretend we don’t have media day in 48 hours?” Lewis smirked.

“Exactly,” Charles said. “We’re very busy people. This is bonding.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” I laughed.

“I mean,” Charles said, reaching over to pluck my drink and take a sip, “If the PR team asks, I’ll say I was just strengthening teammate relationship.”

Lewis chuckled. “And what about her?”

“Oh, she’s just here for emotional support,” Charles said with a wink, handing me back the glass.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the warmth in my chest.

We lay like that for a while—Lewis’ hand moving slowly up and down my arm, Charles humming something under his breath as the sun dipped lower. Everything about it felt easy. Natural. Like the three of us had fallen into some kind of perfect, delicate rhythm without even trying.

Eventually, Lewis turned his head toward me, voice quieter now. “You happy?”

I looked at him, then over at Charles. At the soft smiles, the lazy closeness, the way we just fit—like maybe the sea wasn’t the only thing we were floating in.

“Yeah,” I said. “I really am.”

Charles leaned in and kissed my cheek. Lewis took my hand. And for a long, quiet moment, none of us needed to say anything else.

Charles was still asleep back on the yacht, one arm draped dramatically over his face, Leo curled up on his chest like a weighted blanket. I’d watched them both for a minute before I climbed down the ladder and stepped onto the sand, the heat of the day still lingering beneath my feet.

Lewis was already down there, walking barefoot along the shoreline with his pants rolled up to his calves and sunglasses perched lazily on his nose. He turned when he saw me, a slow smile spreading across his face—soft, warm, something private tucked in it.

“You escaped,” he said.

“Charles is unconscious,” I replied, falling into step beside him. “Leo’s his emotional support."

Lewis laughed, low and rich. “That dog lives the life."

We walked in silence for a while, the waves licking at our feet, the sun brushing the horizon in molten amber. The wind caught my hair, and I felt him glance over. Twice.

“You look happy here,” he said finally, voice softer now. “Not just today. Lately.”

I looked up at him. “I am. You’re part of that.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“You think I don’t notice?” I asked, gently bumping my shoulder into his. “You bring me my favorite juice every morning. You always walk slower when I’m tired. And you’re the only one who can get Charles to stop overthinking for five minutes straight.”

He looked away, like maybe it was too much to meet my eyes just yet. “Yeah, well. I like seeing you smile.”

I stopped walking. So did he. The breeze moved between us, teasing the hem of his shirt, curling around the silence stretching long and charged.

Then, so quietly I barely heard it-

“I think I’m in trouble with you.”

I didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because you’re with him.”

His eyes searched mine. “And I shouldn’t—”

He kissed me. It was quick. Messy. Barely even planned. His hands stayed frozen at his sides, like he hadn’t meant to do it, like his body betrayed his mind. My breath caught, my heart thundered. He pulled back immediately, eyes wide, regret crashing over him like a wave.

“Shit,” he breathed, taking a step back. “Shit—YN, I’m sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

“Lewis,” I said, stepping toward him, catching his hand. “Hey. Breathe.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his curls, pacing half a step away. “You’re with Charles. I can’t be that guy. I won’t be that guy.”

“You’re not,” I said quietly. “You could never be.”

“I crossed a line.”

I touched his chest—right where his heart was racing under his shirt. “You didn’t cross it alone.”

That got him to stop moving.

“Charles and I… things with him are real. But they’ve also changed. We’ve both changed. And what’s been happening between the three of us isn’t a secret. We’ve just been too scared to say it out loud.”

He looked at me then. Really looked.

“You’re saying he knows.”

“I’m saying,” I said carefully, “that Charles and I talked about you on the flight here. About how we feel. About the possibility that this—you—is more than just something we’re trying to ignore.”

Lewis swallowed hard. “And what did you decide?”

“That we’re not pretending anymore,” I said. “And that we should be honest—with you. And with ourselves.”

His expression cracked, a flicker of hope breaking through the storm cloud guilt.

“So,” he said slowly, his voice low again. “I didn’t just ruin everything?”

I shook my head. “You kissed me. That’s all. And maybe that kiss… meant more than either of us are ready to say out loud yet. But it’s not wrong.”

He reached for my hand this time, gently lacing his fingers through mine. “I’ve been trying so hard to be careful with you. With him. With this.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s what makes you you.”

He smiled, a little broken, a little disbelieving. “So what now?”

I looked back at the yacht in the distance, sails swaying. “Now? We walk back. And maybe when Charles wakes up, we tell him what happened. Together.”

“And after that?”

I squeezed his hand. “After that, we stop pretending we’re not falling into something that’s been waiting for us all along.”

He leaned in, slower this time, forehead brushing mine. And when his lips met mine again—softer now, no panic, just warmth and truth—it felt like something we had all already agreed to, even if we hadn’t spoken it yet.

By the time Lewis and I climbed back up the ladder, the sky had gone pink and deep lavender, the stars barely starting to blink through the haze of the day. My hand was still tucked into his, both of us quiet, steady, unsure what the next few minutes would hold. But when I stepped onto the deck, I knew. Charles was awake.

He was sitting on the padded bench, hair a mess of flattened curls from sleep, hoodie half-zipped over his bare chest, Leo tucked under one arm like a pillow he refused to give back. His legs were lazily sprawled out in front of him, but his eyes—sharp, clear, knowing—were locked on us before we could even speak.

“Oh,” he said lightly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So I was right.”

Lewis froze beside me. I held my breath.

Charles tilted his head. “You kissed her.”

It wasn’t angry. He didn’t look upset, just… open. Curious. A touch amused. He was watching us like we were characters in a movie he already knew the ending to.

“I—” Lewis started, instantly dropping my hand. “I didn’t mean to. It just—happened, and I freaked out, and I told her it was a mistake, which it wasn’t, but—”

“Lewis,” Charles interrupted gently, raising a hand. “It’s okay.”

Lewis blinked. “It is?”

Charles smiled, soft and crooked. “Yeah. It is.”

I stepped forward then, close enough to see the faint pink still clinging to his cheeks. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” he laughed, shaking his head. “No. I think I’m mostly relieved.”

“Relieved?” I echoed.

Charles looked between us—me still in his hoodie, Lewis standing like he was waiting to be exiled. Then he stood up, slowly, walking over until he was right in front of us.

“Because now we’re not dancing around it anymore,” he said. “Now we can actually say it.”

My voice dropped. “Say what?”

He looked at Lewis first. “That I love her.”

Then he turned to me. “That I love you.”

And finally, back to Lewis—his voice lower now, heavier, but full of truth-

“And that I think I might love you too.”

Lewis’ breath caught. So did mine. There were no fireworks. No dramatic music. Just the sound of the waves against the yacht and Leo sighing in his sleep. But it felt louder than anything I’d ever heard.

“I’ve known for a while,” Charles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “That this thing between us... all three of us... it wasn’t just in my head.”

“It wasn’t,” I said softly. “Not for any of us.”

“I’ve been trying not to screw it up,” Lewis said. “Trying to be respectful. But I—I haven’t stopped thinking about either of you.”

Charles stepped closer. “Then maybe we stop trying not to feel it. And just figure it out together.”

Lewis looked at me, eyes wide and soft and unsure.

I nodded. “I want that.”

And then, before I could even breathe again, Charles reached up and took Lewis’ face in his hands and pressed the gentlest kiss to his cheek. Lewis looked stunned. Beautifully stunned.

Charles turned to me. “Come here,” he whispered.

And I did. Right into the space between them. Between us. The three of us stood there, on a yacht rocking gently in the open sea, wrapped in something that finally, finally had a name. Not confusion. Not guilt. Not chaos. But something real.

And just as the sun vanished behind the horizon, I whispered, “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

Lewis smiled, pulling us closer. “God help your poor brother when he finds out."

I don’t know what time it was. Just that the track was buzzing, the garage was loud, and Charles was supposedly off doing media rounds, which left Lewis and me alone in his driver room with five stolen minutes and a locked door. Or… so we thought.

Lewis had me perched on the edge of the little leather sofa, fingers in my hair, lips pressed softly—then not so softly—against mine, his free hand sliding over my hip like he very much wasn’t thinking about the race happening soon.

“Five minutes,” I whispered against his mouth.

“I only need three,” he murmured with a smirk.

I swatted his chest, laughing, just as—

BANG.

The door slammed open.

“CHARLES! Have you seen my—WHAT THE HELL?!”

Lewis physically flinched back from me like he’d been electrocuted. Carlos stood in the doorway, eyes bugging out of his skull, pointing directly at us like he’d just walked in on a crime scene. I froze. Lewis looked like he saw a ghost. A very angry, spanish ghost.

“I—SHE—YOU—NO.”

“Carlos—”

“NO. NOPE. I AM HAVING A FULL STROKE.”

He started pacing, hands on his hips, eyes wide as saucers. “Why are you kissing him? Why is he kissing you? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING IN CHARLES’ ROOM?!”

Lewis opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He looked like a guilty golden retriever.

Carlos pointed at him again. “And YOU! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ZEN! You’re supposed to be—like—YODA or something! WHAT HAPPENED TO YODA?”

“I—I can explain—” Lewis stammered.

“Can you? CAN YOU REALLY?” Carlos turned to me. “And you! Miss Ferrari Cult Leader—you said you hated drama!”

“I do!” I protested. “I just happen to also… love charles and his teammate. Who loves me back.”

Carlos made a noise like a deflating tire. And then—perfectly timed, calm as ever—Charles strolled in, towel around his neck, water bottle in hand.

“Ah,” he said casually. “You found them.”

Carlos whipped around. “YOU KNEW?”

Charles took a long, slow sip of water. “I encouraged it, actually.”

Carlos choked on his own spit. “You what?!”

Charles shrugged. “It’s very healthy, emotionally. We communicate. We’re very evolved.”

Carlos blinked. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means your sister is in a consensual, loving throuple and you need to calm down before your heart explodes,” I said sweetly.

Charles high-fived me. Lewis still looked vaguely traumatized.

“I need to sit down,” Carlos mumbled, dropping into the armchair like it had betrayed him. “Is this why you won’t wear Williams blue?”

“That’s always been unrelated,” I said.

“Unbelievable,” he groaned.

There was a long pause. Then, finally-

“You’re dating both of them?”

I nodded.

“Like—romantically?”

“Yes, Carlos.”

“Like—kissing and cuddling and—”

“CARLOS.”

Charles dropped into the seat next to him, patting his knee. “You’ll adjust.”

Lewis finally cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, man… I respect her. And you. I’d never do anything that wasn’t right by both of you.”

Carlos stared at him. Then stared at Charles. Then stared at me. Then back at Lewis.

“You’re all lucky I love you,” he muttered, before pointing sternly. “But if you hurt her—either of you—I will run both ferrari's off the track."

Charles raised his water bottle in salute. “Fair.”

Lewis nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

Carlos groaned again. “I’m going to the Williams garage. At least there no one’s dating my best friend and Lewis Hamilton at the same time.”

He stood, dramatically, and paused at the door. “Also, you two owe me therapy. And maybe some dinner."

Then he left, muttering in Spanish. The door closed. A beat of silence.

Then Charles leaned against the wall and smirked. “Well. That could’ve gone worse.”

Lewis exhaled hard. “I genuinely thought he was going to punch me.”

“You’d deserve it,” I teased, looping my arm around his waist. “But it’s okay. He’ll be fine.”

“He’ll recover,” Charles added, coming to wrap an arm around my other side. “Eventually.”

I smiled between them. We were chaos. But we were ours.

yourusername

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yourusername : i love ferrari sm that i decided to date both of their drivers.

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williamsracing : oh great so we really don't stand a chance.

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↳ yn_sainz : never did

lando : how is carlos?

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↳ yn_sainz : traumatized but we fed him lobster and alcohol so he is healing slowly

scuderiaferrari : how does it feel to be living MY DREAM? 😭

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oldermenfucker · 19 days ago

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Alight With The Sparks | M. Robinavitch

Summary: Jack and Samira open a dating account for Robby, and furious Dr. Robinavitch goes to shut down the poor girl they have managed to charm, only for the night to take a turn and change his mind.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut(only one scene), VERY VERY PLOT HEAVY, so much pining urgh, Robby falls hard and fast and first, he is smitten alright, Alcohol consumption, blind date trope, lots of fluff and kisses and just cutesy things, English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 8.4k+

an: so I know I said I didn’t wanna write the blind date idea but here I am with this HEAVY fic! I hope you guys like this pleaseeeee comment and tell me what y’all think about it! Also, shoutout to @m-robinavitch & @pxpecxdy for helping me with this fic!!! ALSO THE PICS DO NOT REPRESENT THE READER!! She is written as neutral as possible with NO details about her appearance! She’s just shorter than Robby!

no beta<3

“Jack, he’ll kill us.”

“I’ve had enough of his grumbling.” Jack unlocks Robby’s phone, opening his gallery to find at least one good picture of him. “He doesn’t say it, but I can see how lonely he is.”

“And your solution is to open a dating account without him knowing?” Samira hisses, sitting down next to Jack on the couch, glancing at the bathroom door in the hallway in panic, “Stop— what if he finds out? Oh, great, now you’re snooping around his gallery.”

“Sweetie, listen,” Jack whispers while airdropping the few pictures he has selected from Robby’s phone, glancing up at the bathroom door before he looks at Samira, “Heather has moved on, all his exes have moved on, and he is sitting alone in a bar drinking while having a midlife crisis. He needs to go out; it’s good for him and my sanity.”

“You already have a girlfriend, stop digging your nose into his life, maybe he doesn’t— shit, shit, he is unlocking the door!” Samira snatches Robby’s phone, standing up anxiously before she rushes toward the kitchen, dropping his phone face-first on the counter, and busying herself with filling a glass of water.

Jack clears his throat, looking down at his own phone, a barely visible smirk on his face as he opens the dating app and uploads Robby’s photo without looking suspicious.

“What do you want to have for dinner?” Samira asks, smiling awkwardly at Robby, who gives her a reassuring grin in return while he reaches for the tissue box on the counter next to his phone, “I don’t feel like cooking, so…”

“We’ll figure it out, honey, don’t worry,” Jack, finally after the harsh glare Samira gives him, turns off his phone resting his head on his hand on the back of the couch as he waits for Robby to join him, “It doesn’t matter as long as Robby stays here with us.”

“Yeah, about that…” Robby drops the crumbled tissues inside the trash, putting his phone in the pocket of his jeans before he gives a soft apologetic smile to Samira, “I think I should leave. You gotta enjoy your time with him now that he’s moved in. I’ll come another day.”

“You know we are more than happy to have you over,” Samira replies, following Robby to the door, pulling Jack up by his hand to say his farewell, “But no pressure! You’re welcome anytime!”

“Thank you, Samira,” He gives her a half hug before he pats Jack’s back when he is pulled in for a deep embrace, “Good night, brother.”

“It’d have been great if you didn’t run away from having a solid conversation with me.”

“I don’t need you to scold me about my perfect life, I’ve heard enough,” Robby shakes his head as he bends down to put his sneakers on, sighing deeply when he sees how Jack and Samira — both — give him an unsatisfying look, “Don’t even think about talking. I’m outta here.”

“We want what’s best for you—“

“And that, Jack,” Robby hits the elevator’s button before he looks back at his friend with a defeated smile, “Is to keep your head out of my business. ‘M not trying to sound mean, I’ve done everything, maybe that’s how it’s always supposed to be.”

“What? What do you mean?” Samira asks, stepping forward, looking at Robby with a soft frown, glancing back at Jack, who is mimicking her conflicted thoughts.

“I’m not exactly the best man to date,” Robby shrugs, running a hand through his hair as he waits for the elevator to reach the floor, “I’ve been told, and I don’t disagree. I’ve tried everything—“

“Not everything.” It is comical how Jack and Samira both say it at the same time, and in that moment, Jack understands she is on board with his plans.

Robby chuckles, his shoulders go rigid as he waves at them one final time, “I have, trust me. I’m destined to be alone, and I’m fine with it. You should be, too.”

As soon as the elevator doors are shut, Samira pushes Jack inside the house, slamming the door before running her hands down her face, groaning loudly.

“Get out your phone, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she grabs Jack by the elbow, pushing him down on the couch as she crawls next to him, “Find him a date as soon as possible. He is becoming an insufferable old man.”

“See? My idea is fucking brilliant!” Jack grins at her, unlocking his phone to open the dating app, “We gotta make sure we talk exactly like Robby so when they go on the date, she thinks it was him all along.”

“We’re basically lying, but sure, thank you for your brilliant idea,” Samira sighs, shaking her head in disappointment, but deep down, she knows this is the only path Robby hasn’t taken; maybe something good will come out of it. She can only hope.

“Okay, choose a picture— definitely not this,” Jack angles his phone so she can take a better look at the photo. The first one is a group photo of Robby and his day shift team; he isn’t looking the happiest and cleanest, and more importantly, he is looking at Heather. So nope, this one has to go.

“Something that shows his face better,” she snatches his phone from his hands, leaning against his chest as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, “Okay… what about this?”

“Not bad, but it’s a group photo again— does he even have a picture of himself? Like a solo one?”

“That’s…” Samira stops, pouting a little when she thinks about it, “That means no one’s ever taken a picture of him. No wonder he feels so drained; he doesn’t have one single picture of himself! Jack he is so lonely.”

“I’ve been telling you, honey,” Jack kisses the crown of her head, “He needs to find his match again. He found it once, he can do it again.”

“This app better give us someone worth his time— oh, okay, this selfie isn’t that bad, huh?”

“He’s holding up a book,” Jack cringes, scratching his jaw as he stares at the photo, “Okay, urm, it’s not too bad, but he looks like a grandpa. We just have to find girls who are into him and whatever category this picture is a part of.”

“He’s had bunch of relationships before, we’ll definitely find someone,” he watches as she adds his name, making sure she puts down ‘Robby in short’ so his future hypothetical date doesn’t call him by his first name, “Add his height, his job… urm, what else?”

“What does he like? Besides books, obviously.”

“Women.”

“Jack,” she gives him a look that screams as if we don’t already know, “Focus! Hobbies. What does he do when he is out of the hospital?”

“Drinking, reading… he goes to this really, really old record shop— he’s such an old man, he’s going to die soon—ouch, what?”

“You are barely any younger than him,” she pinches his arm, rolling her eyes as she adds the things he told her, “Any sports? Football, basketball, baseball?”

“I think he plays basketball with Jake a few times a week when he isn’t exhausted, which is rare, you should add that he is so tired—“

“Listen, babe,” Samira turns around, cupping Jack’s face and he takes the opportunity to pecks her lips, “You had a stupidly amazing idea, now don’t fucking ruin it. Let me handle it, alright? Alright.”

She settles against him again, putting the location on Pittsburgh before she presses ‘done’ and starts going through the options the app is offering in this city. They like some of the profiles, delete the others, and the game of finding Robby a match starts.

•••••••

“Hey, man,” Jack strides inside the hospital, backpack slung on his shoulder as he hugs Robby, taking a look at the board before he looks back at Robby, who gives him a sympathetic nod, “Looks like you guys had a rough day.”

“Yeah, hope your shift is better than ours,” Dana sighs, tucking her glasses inside her bag, “It was a shitshow. A school bus crashed into a tree… a bunch of terrified children ran in here.”

“That’s the worst you got today? You should hang around and see how much—“

“It’s not a game of who has it worse, Jack,” Dana chuckles, swinging her bag on her shoulder as she leaves the station, “Enjoy the night, I’m sure you’d love the screaming children who’ve got hand surgery at three in the morning.”

“Have a good night,” Jack squeezes Dana’s hand as she passes him, looking back at Robby, who is leaning his hand on his forearm on the Central, “Go home, you need rest.”

“Yeah, I will,” Robby scratches the back of his neck, “I’m thinking of taking a few days off, just to sleep. I know I won’t, but trying it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Take Friday off,” Jack replies quickly — almost too quickly — before he clears his throat and pulls his phone out of his cargo pants, “So you know, you can have your weekend and a day more off in a row. Please text Samira and tell her I got here, the car’s hers for her next shift.”

“Sure,” Robby frowns a bit at Jack, watching him go after Jack, and hands him his phone. Robby, hesitant and nervous, unlocks Jack’s phone — yeah, he knows his password, it’s a requirement in ER because they trust each other enough and someone has to get inside this thing in the time of emergency — and he finds Jack’s messages with ease, Samira’s name pinned on top with a picture of her smiling.

It’s one second, he is too quick, he shouldn’t be this quick, but he is. He catches a glimpse of his name in one of the recent unread messages. He stands frozen, looking at the contact’s name, color draining from his face.

Robby’s date

“What the fuck?” He whispers, opening the message without thinking twice, reading the only text available.

I’m so excited to finally meet you this Friday, Robby!

He thinks he might drop dead in the middle of the ER. If he puts his hand on the side of his trachea, he would feel how insanely fast his carotid pulse is. He is sweating on his forehead, his back, and his hands. He doesn’t think he can hold the phone any longer.

He takes another look at the message, and it seems the words are taunting him. A date. Robby. A date he doesn’t know anything about. In Jack fucking Abbot’s phone.

Robby walks to the locker room, phone clutched in his hand as he pushes past people to find his friend, Jack, might not be his friend any longer after this conversation — and finds him pulling out his stethoscope from his bag.

“I’m gonna ask this once, Jack,” Robby squeezes his eyes shut as he holds up the phone, “What the fuck is this?”

“Wha— oh.”

“Oh is right, my friend,” Robby glares at Jack, who just shrugs and shuts his locker door, sighing deeply before he grabs his phone and locks it. “Robby’s date, seriously? Are you cheating on Samira—“

“Woah, woah, okay, man, take a fucking breath,” Jack raises his hands, giving Robby a look that shows if he talks more he might pull out his knife and slice his friend in half, “I would rather lose all my limbs than cheat on her, one. Two, that is your date. See the name, Robby’s name? That’s you. You think I’m that desperate to impersonate you? You’re not half as handsome as I am.”

“So what is it then? I have a date and I didn’t even know about it?” Robby pushes his hands into his hoodie, turning around to lightly bang his head on the lockers, “When were you going to tell me?”

“Thursday—“

“A day before the date? Wow, this is fucking thrilling,” he rubs a hand down his face, leaning on his side on the cold metal, giving Jack a defeated look while crossing his arms over his chest, “Why’d you do that, Jack?”

“Because I’m fucking worried about you,” Jack hisses, walking closer so he doesn’t need to shout and alert the entire floor, “You’ve been neglecting yourself, I can’t stand that.”

“You’re talking like a Victorian prince, spit it out, I’m one second away from banging my head on this damn locker.”

“You are lonely and instead of fixing it, you’re letting it destroy you,” Jack says, putting his hand on Robby’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly, “I know what I did was… unethical, so to say, but you need to get out there, brother. You have to stop letting these destructive thoughts ruin your life, and no, before you say it, you deserve a good life.”

“I’ll go to that date to shut that poor girl down,” Robby whispers, shaking his head slightly as he takes in Jack’s words. “She’s probably excited to meet me, and I’m gonna go tell her how it was not me. Bravo.”

“It’s a step even if you tell her no,” Jack shrugs and gives him a soft smile, “But go there, you never know what might happen.”

“I’m still fucking pissed at you so don’t push it.”

••••••

Robby is nervous. It has been too long since he has felt this way. Nervous about meeting a woman? The confident Dr. Robinavitch, who handles a chaotic emergency department for twelve hours on his own? It doesn’t sound like him.

What is worse, though, is that Jack didn’t budge for a second when Robby asked him to show at least a picture of his date so he could easily find and send the poor girl home. He already feels responsible for her excitement that he is about to ruin; he feels bad that he has to do this. But there is no other option either.

He is all dressed up, per Samira’s request; nothing too extravagant, but a dark green fitted shirt with rolled up sleeves and his jeans. He doesn’t know if it is a good look, he shouldn’t care because he isn’t going to stay at all — says hi, shakes your hand, sits down to explain what his idiot friend did, says goodbye, and then be on his way.

He walks into the restaurant with his hands in his pockets, nervously looking around before a waitress notices him and asks about his reservations. He doesn’t know which name Jack gave them, but a soft voice interrupts his thoughts before he makes a fool of himself.

“Robby?”

What he doesn’t except, is for you to be fucking ethereal, as if they have pulled you out of fairy tales and sat you in front of him. If he blinks one more time, he might be able to see you glowing under the soft lights of the restaurant.

You are smiling at him, standing up to greet him. The dress you are wearing makes his mind go blank. The color matches your skin, and the fabric clings to all the right places that have his mind spinning. And it only breaks his heart that he has to tell you the ugly truth about how you both ended up here — he wishes he could do something to change his unbelievable fate.

“Hi,” you reach to shake his hands when he walks to the table, beaming at him with such enthusiasm he has never felt, “It’s so good to see you.”

“Likewise,” he clears his throat, smiling back awkwardly before he rounds the table to pull your chair back, tucking you in gently before he goes to his seat.

“You’re late,” you whisper, as if you’re scared he might run out of this place before you get the chance to say something else.

“Yeah, about that,” he rubs the back of his neck, looking at you with soft eyes, knowing what he is about to say might ruin your entire night — the thought makes his heart twist, you are far too beautiful to be hurt because of Jack’s stupidity, but if he doesn’t tell you, he will never forgive himself — so he leans forward on the table with his forearms resting on the tablecloth, “I’m deeply sorry for what I’m about to say, I… I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Oh…?” You sound small, and he hasn’t even spoken the words. This is going to break him, he is sure, cause your bright eyes are slowly losing the glimmer in them the more he keeps quiet.

“The person you texted was not me.” The cat’s out of the bag now. “It was my friend, he wanted to get me to start dating again, and he thought whatever he was doing was to help me. I had no idea I was going to have a date until a few days ago, and… he even refused to show a picture of you.”

“So you’re not here for the date.” You take a deep breath, huffing out a slow laugh, “It’s alright, I wish I had known sooner so I wouldn’t spend hours getting ready for someone who doesn’t even know my name.”

“I’m so sorry,” Robby hides his face in his hands, embarrassment washing over him as he hears you. Fuck you, Jack. “For whatever’s worth… You look incredible. You look fantastic, so… so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you give him a halfhearted smile — at least that’s a start — and reach for your purse, “I think it’s best if I leave—“

“Wait!” What the fuck, Robby? He doesn’t know why he is stopping you, he is here to shut this stupid date down and prove to Jack that he doesn’t need to date to have an amazing life, but he already feels like someone has stabbed him when his eyes fall on the little pout on your lips, “Listen, um, I hate that I’m the reason you feel your efforts are wasted, so… let me buy you dinner. This is the least I can do to apologize for this inconvenience.”

“Are you sure? I mean,” you chuckle, looking down at your hands, “You don’t even know my name.”

“I can learn your name,” he shrugs, his eyes giving out the subtle hint of his admiration, “If you’d like me to.”

“Well, I’ve liked you for a few weeks, although now I found out it wasn’t you, but… I’m not opposed to a friendly dinner,” You explain, resting your chin on the back of your hands, gazing at Robby in a way that makes his heart leap into his throat, “At least someone gets to enjoy my outfit tonight, even though it isn’t the Robby I wanted to.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the real one more enjoyable than the one you talked to,” he smiles, wrinkles deepening as he looks at you, “if it makes you feel any better, the one you were talking to was my friend and his girlfriend.”

“You’ve got a tough competition then,” he knows you are flirting, he should shut it down, he should tell you to stop, he should stop his heart from racing when you blink and grin at him, he should most definitely look away to stop his cheeks from turning red.

“They don’t have you looking all dolled up in front of them,” fuck, fuck, fuck, there it is, “I think I can manage.”

“Wow,” you chuckle shyly, glancing away for a second before looking back at him, “Smooth, I like it. Definitely better than all the flirting your friends were doing.”

“See? Real Robby is the real deal.”

“Don’t take yourself too highly, you might trip and fall,” you grin, “Besides, this isn’t a date, right? Your words, not mine.”

“I don’t know about that anymore,” Robby looks at you, the heavy feeling in his chest making his lips stretch into a broad smile, “Maybe… we could ignore what happened and start over? And I get the chance to take revenge on them.”

“Okay, I’m in.”

“In taking revenge or turning this into a date?” He raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for your answers as he drags his eyes over your face. Jesus, you really are beautiful. How did those two idiots managed to get you to like him only with texts is beyond him.

“T-the date,” he can see how you get flustered a little, stuttering when your gaze locks with his, “Other aspects don’t concern me, nor should it bother you.”

“I can’t just let it slide,” Robby shrugs, “but I’m also too old to get back at him. I would rather focus on things that matter.”

“Like what?”

You know what, but he isn’t going to ruin this, not now, not when, after so many countless dates, he is actually feeling something. Robby beams, resting his cheek on his palm as he trails the length of your arm to your face, his grin matching yours.”

“Like you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be here—“

“Yeah, yeah, well I’m a man, and I’m not immune to what I see,” he cuts you off gently, reaching to grab the glass of water on the table, trying to hide his flushed face behind the cup.

“And what is that?”

“Don’t play coy with me now, you know what I’m talking about,” he rolls his eyes at you playfully when you laugh quietly. And he soon finds out he loves that sound, and he would do anything to hear it again, anything.

“It wouldn’t hurt to say it, you know,” you bite your lip, waiting for him to reply, “I like expressive men, there, I gave you a hint.”

“Then I’m the worst person on earth for you to go to a second date with,” Robby winces as the words leave his mouth, thinking of how insecure he must have sounded instead of funny, but you don’t cringe, you don’t frown at him, only chuckle and shrug.

“I’ll be the judge of that, but you need to answer my question first.”

“Which question?”

“What changed your mind?”

Robby thinks for a long moment. He doesn’t know what it actually is: your beauty? Probably, you looked like an angel waiting for him, and he is glad he could wipe the quick frown he forced on your face when he told you he didn’t know about the date. Your humor? Possibly. But in all senses, you in whole changed his mind, you feel like the person he can speak to, the only one who wouldn’t make fun of him for all the vinyls he has collected.

“You,” he says, scratching his beard, looking down at his fingers as he clears his throat, “you did. It’s been a long time since I went on a date, and every time I did… something felt wrong. You don’t feel wrong.”

“You don’t feel wrong either.” You say it with so much grace to him, so soft and pliant that he can’t believe it is directed at him, as if he deserves it, “I’m glad you didn’t stand me up.”

“I would never,” he tells you, sighing deeply like you have offended him, “and to show that I am truly interested, I’d like to take you out again.”

“You don’t even know my name!” You laugh, glancing at the waitress as she makes her way to you, before looking back at Robby, who runs his hands down his face, shoulders shaking as he chuckles.

“What is your name?”

••••

You agreed to come, you replied to his text, and agreed to come. Not once, not twice, not even three times, but ten times in the period you were apart. He asked for your name, got your number successfully without making a fool of himself. So there is no reason you shouldn’t show up. Right? Right.

But why are you late? Was it all… a fun night for you? Then why did you tell him you were on your way ten minutes ago? You will come, yes, you will, you have to, there isn’t anything stopping you from coming to this date. Maybe his favorite fucking recordshop wasn’t the best choice to take you out, but you begged him to show you a piece of himself, so here he is.

Stupid, he should have listened to Jack and taken you to the cinema.

“Robby, oh my gosh, finally!”

He turns around so fast he thinks he is about to get dizzy, but a giant smile covers his worry as he finally sees you, practically skipping over to him, panting when you reach him.

“Hey,” you hold onto his biceps as you catch your breath, his hands automatically coming to your arms to hold you steady as he mutters a soft ‘hello’ and squeezes you a bit, “It took me half an hour to find this place!”

“I thought I sent you the location,” he gives a questioning look, “I did, didn’t I? Samira helped me, and no, I know how to use my phone, but I was never required to share a location. Don’t make an old man joke.”

“When have I ever?!” You gasp dramatically, laughing when his face turns red, “No, don’t worry, you did send me your location. But it wasn’t exactly the right one.”

“What?” He is going to die from embarrassment; he is sure he will drop dead on the hot bricks under his shoes, “I’m sure I shared it right…”

“You chose two streets down this place… It’s all good now! I’m here, late, which I’m so sorry about, but I’m here!” You straighten your back, giving him one of those radiant smiles he has grown quite fond of, before you wait for him to lead you inside.

“I guess I was nervous… sorry,” he rubs the back of his neck, feeling the heat spreading down to his chest as well, “but yeah, I’m really glad you could make it.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have lost the chance to get to know you more! Of course I’d show up!”

“I’m glad,” is all he can say, before he notices how much his cheeks are hurting from smiling back at you. He manages to walk a few steps ahead, opening the door and waiting for you to enter, “Ladies first.”

“What a gentleman,” you walk past him, waiting for him to join you as you step to the side, suddenly looking out of place, “Show me around?”

“Of course, we should go upstairs,” he walks side by side with you, “I’ve been coming here since I got hired in The Pitt, it’s one of the oldest shops in the city, and sells vinyl only.”

“That’s so cool! To be fair, I’ve only been to record shops a few times, so I don’t know much about them,” you shrug, biting the inside of your cheek, bashful and grinning, “So I’m sorry, you have to explain everything to me.”

“Gladly,” he replies and pushes the door to the shop open, watching with amusement as you wait for him to enter this time, “Alright, come on.”

He walks inside, giving you enough space to join him. The atmosphere is warm and welcoming, enveloping you both in its entirety, and Robby feels instantly at home. The colors are brighter, the music feels more vibrant than ever, and you… Your beauty blends so nicely with your surroundings — like you belong there with him.

He shakes his head a little, leading you between rows of different Vinyls, stopping when he reaches a room full of records on the walls, shelves, and two rows in the middle with record players in the corner.

“A room full of one dollar records, one of my favorite places to spend time in—” he explains, but soon he is cut off guard when you slowly grab his hand, looking around the room like you don’t know what you have done.

Robby stops dead in his tracks as soon as you wrap your fingers around his hand, head slowly turning in your direction, only to find you innocently shrugging and pulling at your bottom lip.

“I can— if you’re uncomfortable—“

“No, no, absolutely not,” he stops you before you can say more, smiling as his cheeks turn red again, “I… like it.”

“Good, show me the rest.” You squeeze his hand, and he tugs it forward gently, pulling you inside the room.

He feels like a freaking teenager again. He is fifty, fifty for fuck’s sake, yet he is explaining everything about these records to you, trying to stare at you all the time because if he does, he would melt under your gaze.

“I’ve always wanted to have this,” he says, showing you a record of Pale Blue Eyes by The Velvet Underground at the end of your tour in the shop, “I don’t know why I’ve never bought it, probably because I have tons of untouched records at home.”

“I buy it for you.” You gently grab it from his hands, pulling him towards the cash register, handing them the vinyl before Robby has the chance to snatch it out of your hand, “No complaints!”

“I can’t let you do that,” he reaches for his wallet, but you grab his other hand as well, stopping him from moving, standing forward to lace your fingers through his and looking up into his eyes, “I’m serious.”

“So am I, you paid for my dinner when you were forced to come, the least I can do is to buy you a simple record,” you tell him, letting go of one of his hands to pay the cashier, pulling Robby behind you as soon as you hand him the bag, “Thank you for today, I loved it!”

“Thank you for coming, honey,” he says, smiling softly when you come closer, craning your neck to look up at him. “I… I’m glad you had fun.”

“Couldn’t ask for a better date,” you grin at him, letting go of his hand to wrap them around his waist, laying your head on his chest, hiding your smile when you hear how hard his heart is beating, “When’s our next date?”

“Whenever you’d like,” he wraps his arms around you, too, kissing the crown of your head, sighing softly as he smells the scent of your shampoo, “I’d like to get to know you more.”

“I’ll think about it,” you beam at him, standing up on your toes to kiss his cheek, pulling away before he can react, leaving him blushing and smiling like an idiot, “Call you later?”

“Yeah, please do.”

••••

“Robby! Are you kidding me?”

“I’m not, honey,” he chuckles, hugging you back just as tightly when you jump into his arms, “You said you wanna go and well, I had the day off.”

“You had the day off, or you found another attendee to fill in your place?” You ask, hanging from his neck, and he rests his palms on your waist, rubbing your back and dragging his eyes down your sundress, “What do you think?”

“Fucking beautiful,” he breathes out, pulling back a little to take a better look at you, closing the distance so he can press a soft kiss on your forehead, “I can never get enough of you.”

“Juuust how I like you,” you caress the nape of his neck, leaning up to kiss his cheek before grabbing his hand, threading your fingers through his, before you both walk inside the gallery.

It has been a good four months since your first date, and Robby, true to his words, made these four months worth your time. He always manages to call you during the chaotic shifts he spends in the hospital to spend dinners at your place. He has kept the date at his house still on hold so he can treat you as best as he can.

Pet names have become a regular thing in your relationship, he loves how you get flustered and shy as soon as he casually drops another pet name to you, he adores your rambling behind the phone when something in particular annoys you at your work, or when you’d cuddle him to sleep when he reads to you — apparently his voice is ‘magical’ so you say.

“Jack’s covering for me, he owes me,” he shrugs, pulling you inside the gallery, turning around to glance at you, “Don’t say you feel bad for him, he deserves it.”

“Take it easy on him, will you?” You step next to him, resting your chin on his chest, “If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be here together.”

“I hate to admit that he did this,” he rolls his eyes, hand coming up to cradle your face, thumb caressing your cheek before he pulls back before he does something that surprises you both, “Show me around, honey.”

“With pleasure, Doctor Robby,” you drag him inside, and he lets you walk around the room with a skip in your step, pointing at different paintings, “You know, the museum showcased twenty two of this artist’s works? It was huge, I wish I could attend it back then.”

Robby just listens, holding onto your hand as you lead him around the gallery, voice soothing and beautiful as you give him information he will forget later, but he still listens intently, nodding and smiling when you catch him staring at you.

“Sassetta – The Virgin of Humility Crowned by Two Angels,” you read the name, stopping in front of the painting, “It’s an Italian Renaissance painting, early fifteenth century, and it shows the Madonna sitting humbly while being surrounded by angels. I like it, I don’t know why, but I do.”

You pull on his arm again, guiding him to another painting, talking about them so enthusiastically, and it warms Robby’s heart. When was the last time he had felt like this? So fuzzy and content? He doesn’t remember, he doesn’t care, not when you are showing him around all happy and smiling because you finally got to visit the place you wanted after a long time, and he is over the moon that he could make this happen for you.

“Enjoying the art?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you when you ask him, and he doesn’t answer you either. So with a curious look, you turn around, only to find him gazing at you with such a soft expression on his face, brown eyes glimmering with love.

“Yeah, I am.”

“The paintings, Robby,” you giggle, pulling him closer, seeking his warmth.

“You’re more beautiful than all these paintings,” he confesses. When did your lips start to look so kissable? They are taunting him, looking back at him, almost begging to be kissed.

It’s impulsive; he shouldn’t do it, not here, not in front of all of these people. But he can’t help himself, his self control is gone, nonexistent even. So he puts his hand on your waist, tucking you into his chest as he dips down, locking his lips with yours.

You taste like vanilla buttercream (how the fuck it is possible, he doesn’t know and frankly, he can’t care less), your perfume is much strong now, the scent filling his senses with such intensity that he deepens the kiss as soon as you loop your arms around his neck.

Ridiculous, he should have kissed you on top of the Eiffel tower or a boat crossing a river, or with Jack popping a confetti over your heads — but it happens now, in a moment of haste, in the middle of a gallery, after four months of growing closer and closer.

It is the best kiss he has ever had.

He pulls back slowly, finally dawning on him what he just did. He kissed you, in front of everyone, in a public space, but… it felt so good, so real, so sweet and deeply comforting, like he was meant to do it.

“Robby…”

“Fuck, I’m sorry—“

“Don’t be, don’t—“ you press your fingers to his lips, biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning and kissing him again, “Come with me, people are staring.”

“Fuck,” he lets out a breathless chuckle, letting you grab his hand and guide him outside, trailing after you like a puppy with his tail between his legs and a very deep blush on running down his face and chest.

You pull him into the alley next to the gallery, trailing your hands up his chest slowly, holding the side of his neck, gently caressing his throat, thumb bobbing as he swallows. You pull him down slowly, pecking his lips so softly he thinks he might turn into dust.

Robby, though, is losing the last shred of control he has on his body. He is trying to be nice, but he can’t, not when you are tilting your head and pulling him closer. He spreads his palm over your waist, one running down to hold you by the neck, deepening the kiss like he needs to breathe the air in your lungs.

“Get a rooooom.”

You and Robby pull away immediately, looking to find a disgusted teenage boy looking at you with a frown, snorting when you apologize hurriedly. He walks past you and Robby a second later, leaving the two of you heaving and smiling from ear to ear.

You are the first to crack, biting down your fingers to muffle your laughter, only for Robby to groan and chuckle, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he tries to make himself look small, hands circling your body to hold you close.

“Thank you for today,” you cup his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes, “Especially for the kiss.”

“That was spontaneous…” he reddens more, his hands going to hold on to your hips, “But I’m glad I did it, it was bound to happen…”

“Mhm, yup,” you scratch the nape of his neck slowly, watching him closely as he sighs and leans into your touch, “Wanna kiss me more?”

“Thought you’d never ask, honey.”

••••••

Robby sighs deeply, rethinking his life choices as he chops the potatoes as best as he can. He spent hours in surgeon rotation back in med school, he even does srugery in the ER rooms for fuck’s sake, so why do his pieces look anything but sharp? He is going to lose his mind if he keeps thinking about it.

He promised you dinner, a good one, you insisted you would bring the wine, and he caved in. Now, all he needs to do is cook these filet steaks as best as he possibly can. He doesn’t know much about cooking, but he had to invite you to his place; it only seemed right because he had slept countless nights at yours.

So he is going to do his best.

There is a knock on his door, a soft pattern he recognizes immediately. Robby wipes his hands on the towel he has thrown over his shoulder, marching to the door to open it for you, finding you leaning on the wall with a bottle of red wine in hand.

“Hey there, handsome.”

“Hello, honey,” he grins and pulls you in with a hand on your hip, locking his lips on yours in haste, pressing you to the door as soon as he closes it. “Welcome to my cramped apartment.”

“Hush, I love it!” You peck his lips, letting him lead you inside towards the kitchen, “Where’s your record stash?”

“In the reading room, and no, you can’t go there. I had to push everything inside there to make the house look tidy since I didn’t have time to clean up like I wanted to.”

“What do you mean you didn’t have time?” you ask, following him into the kitchen, “Robby, baby, look at me—”

He turns around, sucking the inside o fhis cheek as you cup his face, waiting for him to say anything. He thought he would be able to hide it from you so you wouldn’t get worried, but you have grown quite well at reading him.

“I promise I started my shift early to rest before you get here—”

“You told me you had the day off,” he cringes at your serious tone, but soon a small smile covers his face when you rub his beard, looking at him with nothing but sympathy. “Go sit down, I’ll cook—”

“Absolutely not,” he corners you against the counter, forearm protecting your back as he rests his hand on the edge, pressing himself into your body, “You’ve already done so much for me, let me take care of you tonight.”

“How are you going to take care of me?” You run your fingers up his sides, hands slipping under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin, “Is something going to happen tonight?”

“Do you want it to happen?” he asks, leaning down, hovering his lips over yours, feeling your hot breath fanning on his face, his eyes drawn to your mouth.

“Mhm,” you nod, wrapping your arms around his torso, “I do, and I want it to happen now.”

“You don’t want to see how I ditched culinary school for medicine? Rude,” he skips your lips, kissing your cheek down to your jaw, “Forget dinner, I wanna taste you.”

He feels you suck in a sharp breath, tilting your head to the side to give him more space as he mouths at your skin, biting and nibbling and moving down to your pulse point, making you hiss into his ear.

“Robby—“ you gasp when he bends his knees a little, grabbing the back of your thighs to pick you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks to his bedroom, kicking the door open before he lowers you on the bed gently.

You close your eyes, feeling him grabbing the back of your leg to take off your heels, pressing a gentle kiss on your ankle when he drops your shoes on the floor, moving his lips up the path of your leg, tapping your thigh so you would scoot up on the bed.

“Open your eyes, honey,” he whispers, settling on his stomach between your thighs, “Need you to look at me, come on.”

You slowly open your eyelids, biting on your lip as you find him reaching your side to pull down the zipper of your dress, sliding his fingers beneath the fabric to feel the curve of your breast.

“Take it off for me, please,” he sounds wrecked already. He has imagined this moment in some dark moments when he would allow his imagination to wander freely, “I have to see you.”

“Okay,” you let out a shaky breath, sitting up after you throw your legs over his shoulders, pulling your dress off and lying back on the bed, only in your underwear, breasts exposed to the chilly air in the room.

Robby’s eyes darken with desire, hands moving up your belly to grope your tits, muttering a low ‘fuck’ as he pinches your nipple, pushing his shoulders under your thighs to spread your legs more.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he groans, nipping at the skin around your belly button, sinking his teeth into the flesh to earn a gasp from you, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

“Please do,” you sit up on your elbows, reaching for his head to run your fingers through his hair, “Don’t keep a girl waiting, baby.”

He smirks, fingers pulling on the hem of your underwear, slowly taking it off before he locks his eyes with yours and starts kissing your inner thighs, moving to where you need him the most with patience.

You look like heaven itself, and taste even better when he licks a fat stripe from the seam of your pussy, humming as he closes his lips, genuinely enjoying the way your hips twitch under his touch.

“Oh…” you sigh when he starts sucking on your buzzing clit, flattening his tongue on your folds as he drinks your essence. You push his face into you a bit roughly, closing your legs around his neck as he moves faster, lips drawing patterns with an enthusiasm that has you throwing your head back.

He smiles against you, his beard burning your pussy in the most delicious way, and he knows with the way you are gasping and moaning, he knows you are feeling the euphoria slowly building up in your core.

He grabs one of your thighs, pushing it against your belly so he has room to push a finger inside without detaching himself from your cunt, thrusting the digit inside with so much care as if you will break.

“More,” you dig your nails into his scalp, bucking your hips to his face, moaning louder when he adds another finger, curving them both inside you. His fingers are thick, thicker than you expected, and they stretch you out just beautifully.

You feel the knot in your stomach breaking, your elbows giving out as you drop back on the bed, legs shaking around his head as you arch your back, releasing all over his face.

Robby buries his face into you, smothering himself as he laps up your wetness eagerly, drinking you like a nectar. He keeps your hips pressed to the mattress while he fucks you with his fingers through your orgasm.

“Shit, baby, that was… fuck,” you laugh breathlessly, pulling him up by his neck, “Take off your clothes, you’re too dressed for my liking.”

“You good?” He chuckles, kicking off his shoes and pants, unbuttoning his shirt only for you to push it down hurriedly, pulling him down on top of you to chase his lips into a passionate kiss, tasting yourself on his beard.

“Don’t make me wait, I swear if you do—“

“I won’t, I won’t,” he says, pushing his boxers down in haste, making home between your legs, grabbing his cock in a tight grip, stroking himself, “Fuck, I can’t believe we waited this long.”

“Jesus Christ, Robby,” you swallow as you look at his dick in his hand; fat, hot, heavy and ready to fuck you into oblivion, “You’re big.”

He turns red, bright and beautiful, but he soon closes the distance and kisses you, guiding the red tip of his cock to your entrance, gently rocking his hips forward, inhaling sharply as he pushes past the first ring of muscles.

You moan into his mouth, hands flying to his shoulders to ground yourself as he pushes inside you, filling you with all he has got in him, caging you under his weight with his belly pressed to yours.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, hiding his face into your neck, pulling out halfway before easing his length inside your puffy cunt again, “I’ll keep you on my bed forever if I could.”

“You can, baby,” you gasp, nails scratching Robby’s back as he picks up his pace, no longer as sweet as he thought he would go, but now faster, rougher, more urgent and needy. The lewd sound of his hips slamming next to yours echoes in the bedroom, only adding to the fuel of your desire: “You can keep me here as long as you want.”

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long,” he whispers into your ear, holding himself up with his forearms around your head, moans and deep breaths filling your hair as he fucks you harder.

You whine in his throat, pressing your lips into his Adam's apple as you feel your walls clenching around his girth, crying out when he angles his hips to hit your sweet spot, groaning as you quiver beneath him.

Wailing, you cling to Robby’s body as you gush around him, waves of pleasure hitting your body as he follows you closely, growling at the sensation of your cunt clamping around him tightly.

He pulls out, fisting his cock a few times before he comes on your stomach, groaning from the depths of his chest as he empties his balls on you, and you hold him through it.

“That was amazing,” you kiss his forehead, holding him close as he shakes on top of you, gently lowering his weight on you to catch his breath, “You were amazing.”

“I love you.”

There, out in the open, three little words that he has wanted to say for the past six months ever since he set his eyes on you. Pulling back a bit to look into your eyes, he doesn’t regret it, he had to say it, utter the sentence softly so he can make his feelings known.

“I love you, too.” You cup his cheek, pulling him closer, “I love you, Robby, so so much.”

He kisses you again, this time soft and endearing, full of unspoken promises. He swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, pushing the muscle into your mouth, exploring your taste deeply.

“I’m gonna go clean up, I’ll come, honey.” He lets go of your lips with a lewd ‘pop’, kissing the corner of your mouth. You nod, scooting up to lie on his pillows, watching as he walks stark naked into the en-suite bathroom to clean himself up, coming in with a warm rag to wipe you off as well.

“Wine?” You ask, jumping off the bed as soon as he agrees, running to the kitchen and coming back with his phone and the bottle you brought earlier and a corkscrew, “There you go.”

“What’s the phone for?” He looks at you, grabbing the bottle from you as you crawl into his lap, popping the cork before he puts the wine aside to breathe, hands coming up to hold you by your hips, laughing when you raise his phone in your face, “What’s that for?”

“Pictures!” You laugh too, taking a few pictures of him, smirking as you notice a few blooming marks on his throat, “There, now you have some juicy photos to put as your profile picture in dating apps.”

“I’ve already found my match,” he says, squeezing your flesh, smiling when you bite your lips, looking down at his chest shyly.

“Yeah?” You lean forward, nudging your nose with his, “Plan on keeping your match forever?”

“If she lets me,” there it is again, the fucking butterflies in his belly, “I’d love to keep her as long as she lets me. For days, months, even years.”

#michael robinavitch #dr robby x reader #Dr robby smut #dr robby x you #Dr robby fluff #michael robinavitch smut #michael robinavich x reader #Michael robinavitch fluff #jack abbot x samira mohan

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jeonstellate · 3 months ago

Text

the ghost of monza

there’s a phantom walking around the monza circuit — and oscar seems to be the only one who can see her.

ᯓ★ oscar piastri x fem!räikkönen!reader

ᯓ★ mentions of ghosts & ghostly behaviors

ᯓ★ paragraph format — 3K words

masterlist | the ghost of you masterlist

[pic’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

ᯓ★ all italian, spanish, & finnish words in this are from google! yn is kimi räikkönen’s daughter, but there are no physical descriptions mentioned.

ᯓ★ this is now the first part of a mini-series, which masterlist is linked above :]

It started on Oscar’s year as Alpine’s reserve driver.

It was a race weekend in Monza, Italy. The weather was great — the sun shone softly behind the clouds, the occasional wind blew like a hug, and there was a low threat of precipitation. It was really the ideal conditions for a Grand Prix for everyone involved.

There was no need for Oscar to fill in for any of the drivers and, thus, he was as relax as he could be.

He was just chilling inside the team’s motorhome, enjoying the relative silence of the hustle and bustle from the sidelines, when the glass door to his right opened from an effortless push of the figure outside. No one bothered to look — nor seemed to have noticed the door open — except for him.

To be fair, he wouldn’t’ve cared, either, had the figure not stood out like a sore thumb being the only red amidst the sea of blue. And if they didn’t look slightly passive — visibly judging, if he squinted hard enough — after sweeping the entire room with just their eyes. It was as if they found the entire Alpine motorhome lacking — or, worse, not worth their time.

Against his better judgment, and with every bit of an unknown force compelling him so, Oscar approached them. "Do you need help?"

He only had time to register the red cap on their head and the RKN boldly printed on the front of their equally red shirt before the person replied with a question of their own. "Is Alonso here?"

Oscar didn’t expect that inquiry at all. Purely based on the amount of red that covered their body, he assumed they were a tifoso who just lost their way to the Ferrari area. Yet, as it turned out, they came in there on purpose.

He weighed the ethicality of divulging a driver’s whereabouts. "He went back out. I’m not sure when he’ll be back."

The stranger nodded once, looking content with the answer he gave despite the vagueness. "Okay. Thank you."

With that, they turned back to the door and out to where they came from. They didn’t even look back to spare him — nor the motorhome — another glance.

It took Oscar two beats of silence to remember what Fernando had announced before the latter completely disappeared from the Alpine area. "If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I’m with Seb!"

It took him another beat to run after the stranger. Unfortunately, that three-second delay was enough for them to be out of sight in all the directions he looked.

He went back inside wondering if he merely hallucinated the entire interaction.

It continued onto Oscar’s rookie year in Formula One.

It was another race weekend in Monza, Italy. It was a more guaranteed dry bout than last year, though, with the sun shining a little brighter and no chance of precipitation.

That time around, he was no longer as relaxed, for he was now one of the twenty drivers who would try to take pole to increase their chances of winning the Grand Prix. Add the fact that he still had something to prove with his seat in McLaren— there was really no time for him to completely relax at all.

He did have time to disassociate, though, and let his thoughts wander — albeit they couldn’t stray too far from the race, no matter how many times he tried.

He saw the door to his right open in his peripheral vision. He thought nothing of it, as a lot of people kept coming in and out of the McLaren motorhome for one reason or another.

Except the latest newcomer wasn’t clad in papaya and black — or any other neutral and ‘safe’ colors. They were red. And not just any red, either, but a distinct variation of Ferrari red. They had to be tifoso, for sure.

"Excuse me?" Before he knew it, the tifoso in question was in front of him. They weren’t invading his personal bubble, though, much to his silent gratitude. "Hi."

Oscar reciprocated their greeting after his brain registered that the stranger looked vaguely familiar. "Can I help you?"

"Has Alonso dropped by here today?"

It clicked then where he had seen them previously. They were the same person that inquired the same thing to him last year, back when he was still in Alpine. They were even wearing the same RKN shirt, albeit the red cap had been swapped for a black one.

"No," he shook his head. He considered asking why they were looking for Fernando, but the stranger closed the conversation before he could even make up his mind.

"I see," they say with a nod, reminiscent of their first encounter. As before, they were content with his short and direct answer. "Thank you."

And, like the year previous, they turned back out to the street without sparing him another glance.

Oscar trailed his eyes on their retreating figure, but he didn’t see them go toward any direction after the door closed. Instead, the glass wall merely remained a barrier between the inside of the motorhome and the empty, lifeless street.

It had to be a trick of light.

In hindsight, Oscar was partly to blame for his latest dilemma.

He didn’t have to bring up the vanishing tifoso to Fernando during the drivers’ parade. He didn’t have to assume it’d be a simple, open-and-shut conversation, either. And, yet—

In his defense, it seemed to be the perfect chance to.

He just didn’t anticipate Fernando to look at him like he asked his question in a language he didn’t understand. "No tifoso came to me."

He decided to drop the topic after that. He wasn’t sure if he should clarify or ask for a confirmation. And, quite frankly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do either — especially considering how the tifoso in question vanished the way they did.

Perhaps it was better that he never got to ask again. That way, he had nothing that resembled a confirmation of a recurring hallucination.

He was fortunate enough to be gifted in compartmentalizing, so his performance wasn’t affected. He might’ve not performed as well as he hoped, but they were blameless on that. That was all him and the car.

Unfortunately, with the race done, he really had nothing else to occupy his mind.

Which meant, in the stillness and silence of his hotel room, the compartment he stored his biggest what-if opened with a bang!

What if he was being haunted by a ghost of Monza circuit?

(That didn’t even make sense. Monza was Ferrari’s territory. And the last time he checked, he didn’t drive for the prancing horse. If anything, a ghost of Monza circuit should be haunting either Charles or Carlos — not him.)

It was a blessing — and a curse — that Formula One kept Oscar occupied enough to effectively keep the ghost of Monza circuit out of his mind.

Because, by Oscar’s second year in Formula One, he had forgotten about his recurring supernatural encounter.

. . . Until the season calendar circled back to Monza, Italy, that was.

"You look like hell, mate." Lando greeted him when they met at the McLaren garage for free practice. "You alright?"

"Yeah," the lie slipped out easily. Coming to work with barely any sleep was normal for him, so he learned long ago how to function with it. It was just rather unfortunate that he was yet to master not looking like he crawled out of hell whenever he didn’t get enough hours. "Just tired."

Although ‘just tired’ wasn’t technically a lie, it still was to an extent. After all, his sleeplessness wasn’t simply caused by jet-lag or anything mundane. Rather, by something he couldn’t exactly explain.

Screw his brain for remembering about the ghost of Monza circuit just when he was about to pass out.

"Oh, yeah," his teammate agreed. None than wiser about his current dilemma. "Immigration ran long last night."

Oscar could only hum in agreement. He wouldn’t be lying anymore if he didn’t respond verbally.

Unfortunately, a part of him didn’t want to leave it at that. "Say, do you believe in ghosts?"

"Why?" Lando’s response might’ve lacked a direct answer, but his body language told him everything he needed to know. "Is there a ghost in your hotel room—"

"No, nothing like that," he interrupted before his teammate thought the worse. It was bad enough that his mind was plagued by such things. He didn’t need Lando to be distracted by it, too, for the sake of their team. "Hattie just got me thinking about it."

There was immense relief when his teammate didn’t question the lie that escaped him so nonchalantly.

He just hoped his sister never gets a wind of him using her as an excuse — or else he’d never hear the end of it.

It would’ve been so easy to ask other drivers, any team members, or pit crew if they’ve seen someone with a RKN shirt around the circuit.

It would’ve been so nice to hear at least person affirm in some way, none the wiser about the magnitude of relief they just bestowed him.

It would’ve been so liberating to be free of the torment of not knowing for certain.

It would’ve been so many things.

But, alas, going around and asking would take a lot of energy. He might have the energy to race and do his job, but he had nothing to spare for satisfying his curiosity. He could do either-or, not both. And he definitely wouldn’t pick the latter if he actually had to choose.

Thus, Oscar settled for the unknown to plague his subconscious. Not in the forefront of his mind whenever occupied with pressing matters, but definitely still triggerable with a word or two.

It should’ve been obvious by now that him sitting idle inside his team’s motorhome was a common factor in all his — quite plausibly — ghostly encounters.

But, alas, the realization merely came when he was, one again, living through an unfaithful replay.

"He’s not here," Oscar replied to another variation of the one question the tifoso always asked.

And like they always did, they accepted his answer as it was. No follow-up questions asked. "Okay."

Only that time, he wasn’t about to just let them leave and disappear again. "I might know where he is right now, though," he quickly added before they express their gratitude and turn away. "I can take you to him?"

The unnamed tifoso thinned their lips as they considered his offer. He took that time to take note of two things: One, they donned a red cap with a ‘7’ embroidered on it and their usually red RKN shirt had been swapped for a white one. Two, the sunlight from the glass wall wasn’t shining through them but on them.

They were not a ghost.

It really had been a mere trick of light.

"I suppose that’s fine."

Oscar’s relief almost manifested into a small smile. He’d be able to sleep comfortably later! "Great. If you’d follow me—"

He opened the door and gestured for them to exit first. They obliged with a subtle nod of acknowledgement, and their — theirs and his — arms touched accidentally. He paid no mind to the electricity that flowed through his skin where they made contact, too focused on counting the brief moment as another proof that the stranger wasn’t anything supernatural.

He led them to the Aston Martin garage, the tifoso following him soundlessly from behind. He made few attempts to walk next to them instead, but they countered with a move of their own every time — which successfully kept them directly behind him. He got the message after the third failed attempt.

He felt like Orpheus on his way out of the Underworld.

"Do you mind if I ask for your name?" He inquired a little louder than his usual talking voice. He wasn’t one for raising his voice unless necessary — and that moment definitely required it. For he had to keep his head facing forward, so he could safely navigate the both of them across the chaos of the paddock.

Amongst the scattered noise all around, he was able to pick out a sound of a reply, "My name’s [first name]."

[First name].

It might’ve taken three years but, finally, he had a name.

Oscar quietly tested their name on his tongue — making sure he was pronouncing it right, before saying it out loud. "Nice to officially meet you, [first name]. I’m Oscar."

He could almost swear he heard them something else in reply, but it was drowned by the noise around them. All he could attest to was a reminiscent of a hum and something that almost sounded like a "Likewise."

In all the overthinking he had done, Oscar had somehow never anticipated how the truth would actually come to be.

Fernando, the first person he hinted about the phantom tifoso, did know [first name]. "Princesa! It’s so good to see you!" Personally, based on the tight hug he engulfed her after that enthusiastic greeting.

"You, too, Nando setä," [first name] greeted back, albeit with less excitement visible in her body language.

Oscar stood there rather awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself. Was he supposed to go now?

"Wait—" The older man suddenly held [first name] at arms’ length. He looked at her up and down, seemingly taking in her outfit. "Are you the tifoso Oscar was talking about?"

"What?"

Fernando turned to him, as if he realized it was a question for him instead of hers. "Is [first name] the tifoso?"

"Yeah," he affirmed. He turned to her, puzzled, "Are you not a tifoso?"

"Only conditionally," she responded with a light shrug. "I don’t typically consider myself one."

"Your outfit says otherwise, princesa." the Aston Martin driver gestured toward the prancing horse on her cap. He nodded in agreement, as the other encapsulated precisely what he was thinking.

[First name] was unfazed. "I just see them as faija’s merch."

Oscar had no idea what ‘faija’ meant but, based on context clues, he’d assume it meant ‘dad.’ Also based on context clues, ‘setä’ probably meant ‘uncle.’ It could also be the other way around, really. Alas, he’d have to confirm later.

"Your papá doesn’t even race anymore—" Or not, since Fernando seemed to have given him the confirmation indirectly— "why do you still insist to wear his merch when you watch me race?"

"I just want to."

He felt an inclination to ask who her father is. Yet, at the same time, he also felt like it was already at the tip of his tongue.

[First name] and her Uncle Fernando watched Oscar leave to return to the McLaren motorhome.

When the Australian driver was nothing but a speck in the sea of paddock chaos, her uncle wasted no time to open the conversation he was most likely dying to have. He probably would’ve kicked Oscar out of the Aston Martin garage, too, if the latter didn’t excuse himself early enough. "Finally got the balls to exchange more than a sentence with him, huh?"

She didn’t move her attention from the direction Oscar disappeared to. "On the contrary, I just didn’t want to refuse his offer."

Her first encounter with Oscar in Alpine had been by chance. She really was looking for her Uncle Fernando then. Her Uncle Sebastian wasn’t in his team’s motorhome down the lane when she dropped by, so she strategically sought out her other uncle. She figured they were likely chitchatting in some corner, as they often did with her dad back when the latter was still in the grid. It was only a matter of narrowing down where they could possibly be.

She didn’t know what it was with the team member that assisted her in Alpine. He just stood out to her much more than the one in Aston Martin. Perhaps it was because he didn’t make her wait for nothing. Or because he was more direct in replying to her query. Maybe it was because he was obviously around her age.

Whatever the case might be, she wasted no time in asking her uncles about the cute boy in Alpine after she sprinted to the garages. It was obvious her uncles immediately caught on what was happening before she even realized it herself. After all, she was a Räikkönen and very much like her father. She wouldn’t use much of her energy if she could help it. At best, she would only willingly use her energy for things that she cared enough about.

The fact that she sprinted just to get a name . . .

(It only took them a wordless glance at each other to unanimously conclude that she got a crush. A firsthand experience in love at first sight, if they wanted to push it.)

"Ay, princesa." Her Uncle Fernando’s disappointment was already distinguishable in just two words. "You backed out again?"

She couldn’t blame him. She planned to be acquainted with Oscar last year but she lost courage at the last second, so she tried again when the calendar restarted. Unfortunately, the same thing occurred. "It’s hard."

"You’re only asking him to be your friend, not for his hand in marriage."

[First name] scoffed at his chosen phrasing of his words of encouragement. She knew he was right, of course, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her agreement. "Maybe I should’ve just listened to faija and stayed away from the paddock."

It was his turn to scoff. "Too late for that. Your papá already approves of Oscar."

Her head snapped toward him in a concerning speed. "What?"

Fernando met her wide eyes with his own sparkling in excitement, as if he had been waiting for that moment for years. "I’ve been sending updates to him and Seb."

#oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #f1 x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #op81 fanfic #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #op81 imagine #f1 imagine #oscar piastri fic #op81 fic #f1 fic #oscar piastri #op81 #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren formula one #f1 #formula 1 #formula one

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halsteadlover · 3 months ago

Text

𝐀𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲

*Pics not time credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Reader x Charles Leclerc where he’s gets a remote control vibrator during his press conference and he’s trying not to to come or moan and he’s hiding it and when he’s done reader teases him and finally makes him cum really hard.

• Warnings: smut, oral sex (m. receiving), explicit language, dirty talk, use of sex toy.

• Word count: 2K.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+. I hope you like this one, please let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog ❤️ Thank you so much for your support xx

Charles knew from the moment he saw the mischievous smile plastered on your lips that something was wrong. He definitely didn’t believe that your sweet and innocent smile would lead to nothing but trouble.

At first, it had been the usual, your playful teasing while he got ready, brushing up against him, bending over while casually wearing very revealing shorts, whispering things you knew would drive him insane.

It didn’t take much to drive Charles crazy though, he had no self-control whatsoever when it came to you, even the mere flutter of your eyelashes was enough to have him at your mercy.

“What are you trying to do cherie?” He had murmured in your ear as he grabbed you from behind, wrapping his arms around your hips and pressing his body against yours.

You moaned as you felt his erection pressed against your ass and he hissed as you—not innocently at all—rubbed yourself against him.

“What’s the matter, baby, are you needy this morning? Is my princess horny?” He whispered, grinning against your skin as he began to kiss your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Mmmh yeah, I want you so much,” you replied, in that sultry voice that drove Charles crazy as he cupped his hands on your breast, making you sigh in pleasure. “But I wanted to give you something before you go.”

He was intrigued but reluctantly let you go. He watched you take a small black velvet box from the closet, and he didn’t miss the spark of mischief in your eyes.

“Wear these for me, baby.”

He knew it.

He should’ve known better. Should’ve known you were up to no good. But Charles Leclerc? He always loved a challenge, especially when it came from you, because he knew how it would end.

But now, sitting under the harsh fluorescent lights of the media room, he regretted indulging you, with every fiber of his being.

The vibrating boxers were a menace. An absolute menace.

He shifted in his seat, trying to keep his face neutral while the journalist droned on about tire degradation and race strategies. But he wasn’t listening to a single word, his attention was totally focused on that low, persistent buzz pressed right against his dick, just enough to make his skin prickle, his pulse race.

Charles cleared his throat away from the microphone, fingers twitching where they rested on the table. He threw a glance toward the back of the room and, of course, there you were. Leaning against the wall, looking like an evil but gorgeous goddess.

God, you were breathtaking, and Charles was so horny and frustrated he didn’t know if he wanted to fuck you first or punish you for the torture you were subjecting him to.

You weren’t even paying attention to the questions. No, your eyes were fixed on him, eating him completely. And when you lifted your phone—just slightly—his stomach twisted.

You wouldn’t.

The smirk on your lips said otherwise.

A sudden jolt of vibration surged through him, again, and Charles sucked in a sharp breath, barely disguising it as a cough.

Max, seated beside him, raised an eyebrow. “You good, mate?”

Charles forced a tight smile as he felt his face grew hotter. “Oui. Yes. Uhm… Just—eh, I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t fine.

Not when you kept pushing the intensity higher, till the point he was afraid of busting a nut there in front of the whole world.

His thighs tensed under the table, and he pressed his heels into the floor, desperate to keep himself composed. His mind spun, not with racing lines or lap times, but with thoughts of your hands, your mouth, and the wicked gleam in your eye when you knew you had him right where you wanted him.

And right now? You definitely had him.

Another wave of pleasure rolled through him, a teasing pulse that had him gripping the mic a little too tightly. The moderator called his name, and it took everything in him to process the question.

“Uh… yes. The car… feels good. A strong package this weekend.”

Of all the words he could’ve chosen.

He glanced at you and saw how you bit your lip to stifle a laugh, and his jaw clenched as he narrowed his eyes at you.

By the time the press conference ended—and it felt like an eternity—he was on his feet in seconds, slipping past the other drivers and heading straight to you, internally praying no one would notice the huge hard on in his pants.

The moment you were alone in the hotel room again, he backed you against the wall, his voice low and rough in your ear as his hands groped your ass. “You think you’re so funny, huh?”

You giggled softly, fingers grazing the waistband of his jeans as your nose brushed his, without kissing him. “Actually, yes. But don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it baby, I know you loved it.”

You weren’t wrong. As much as you drove him crazy, he craved every second of it. But in that precise moment he craved you, he wanted you, every inch of you.

“Turn it off.”

“Hmm.” Your nails traced his hipbone, featherlight and taunting, making his skin shiver. “Make me.”

Without another word, he grabbed your throat and slammed his lips on yours, in a deep and pornographic kiss, so messy and passionate it made you literally moan into his mouth. His other hand was in your hair, having you completely at his mercy as he took the soul out of your body.

You returned his voracity, his desire with equal passion, making him almost lose the ground under his feet. His patience, already hanging by a thread, snapped the moment your hands started to wander again, this time caressing his hard dick over his pants.

“On your knees, chérie,” he ordered, voice thick with frustration and desire. “You made this mess. You fix it.”

Your smile was nothing short of victorious as you sank down in front of him, your eyes always fixed on his.

He looked at you with such an adoring expression, almost like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have such a beautiful creature on her knees for him.

It took every ounce of his strength not to come right there and now when your fingers started fumbling with his belt and the buttons of his jeans. The mere image of your face next to his dick was too much, especially when all he had done was imagine the feeling of your warm mouth around him all day.

When his fingers tangled in your hair, Charles thought you were worth all the trouble in the world. He let out a shaky breath, his entire body thrumming with anticipation. He was already so wounded up, so desperate for relief, that the slightest brush of your fingers against him sent a fresh wave of frustration coursing through him.

“Fais quelque chose, chérie…” His voice was rough, strained, filled with barely contained hunger. God, he wanted you so badly, so desperately he felt like he was dying.

You hummed in amusement, dragging your nails along his lower abdomen before finally tugging down his jeans and boxers in one slow, torturous motion. His dick sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip flushed and leaking from the relentless teasing you had subjected him to all day. The sight alone made your mouth water.

“Look at you,” you murmured, wrapping your fingers around him, relishing the way his breath hit the contact. “So worked up for me. Was the press conference hard for you, baby?”

Charles let out a low, almost pained groan. “I’m hating you so much now.”

Your laugh was pure mischief as you leaned forward, trailing your tongue along the underside of his length, slow and teasing, not giving him nearly enough. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, but you pulled back just in time, keeping control and making him curse under his breath.

He lets out another frustrated groan, his hand clenching around your hair. “Arrête tes conneries.”

But you only smiled up at him, your lips brushing over his sensitive tip. Your tongue drew imaginary circles around his tip, tasting and licking away him precum. You whispered, “Make me.”

That was all it took for Charles to snap.

His grip in your hair tightened, and with a deep, guttural moan, he guided you forward, urging you to fully take him into your mouth. The second your warm, wet heat enveloped him, his head slammed back against the wall with a curse.

“Merde… oh, putain, bébé…” His thighs trembled, and his fingers flexed against your scalp as he fought not to thrust too hard, too fast. He wanted to savor it, to punish you by making this last, but you were already setting a devastating pace, your tongue swirling, your lips tightening around him in a way that made him see stars.

Charles had always prided himself on his control. On the track, in his career, even in moments like this, he knew how to hold back, how to prolong the pleasure.

But you? You stripped him of that control effortlessly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his accent thick, voice rasping as his hips started to move, matching the rhythm of your mouth. “You take me so well, chérie. So perfect…”

You moaned around him in response, and the vibrations sent a shudder through his entire body. His abs tensed, his grip turned bruising, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not when your hands kept massaging his balls like he loved it.

Your eyes were fixed on his, on his face twisted with pleasure and the pure sight was an aphrodisiac. You loved seeing him like this, you loved having control over him, you loved driving him so crazy that he didn’t even know how to act anymore.

He threw his head back, the column of his throat so sexy you wanted to lick every inch of it, his jaw defined and clenched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. God, he was breathtaking.

“Baby,” he warned, his breath ragged as he looked at you again. His free hand rested on your cheek, his thumb drawing imaginary circles on your skin, smearing the mascara running down your face even more, a gesture so sweet and in total contrast to the filthy things you were doing. “Yes, fuck, oh yes… Don’t stop. I’m going to come in your mouth and you’re going to swallow every single drop.”

But you had no intention of stopping. If anything, you doubled down, hollowing your cheeks, sucking harder, letting your fingers stroke what your mouth couldn’t take.

And that was it, he was completely done for.

A deep, wrecked groan tore from Charles’ throat as his entire body tensed, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. He spilled into your mouth with a shuddering gasp, his muscles trembling as you took every last drop, not stopping until he was completely undone.

It took him a moment to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling as the aftershocks of his release still pulsed through him. Slowly, he looked down at you, and the sight nearly undid him all over again—your lips swollen, your eyes dark with satisfaction, your mascara smeared, your tongue darling out to collect the last traces of him.

Charles exhaled sharply, a breathless chuckle escaping him as he pulled you up to your feet. “You... Mon Dieu. You’re going to be the death of me.”

You grinned, draping your arms around his shoulders. “But you love it.”

His hands settled on your waist, tugging you flush against him, and despite the exhaustion still tingling in his limbs, he smirked.

“Oh, chérie, you have no idea how much,” he murmured, his voice low, filled with a promise before crashing his lips on yours. “And I’m going to love it so much more now that it’s your turn.”

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residentdeviant · 7 months ago

Text

𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑳𝑰𝑻𝒀

── .✦ summary

⟢ you’re a detective for the raccoon city police department and have recently been assigned a new partner and dozens of cases involving androids, including one of a missing woman and a ruined android. now it’s up to you two to solve them all. detroit: become human au.

── .✦ story notes !

⟢ written with re2r/re4r leon in mind ! also, i did my best to have this be a gender neutral reader, but if there’s anything that suggests otherwise, please let me know.

── .✦ word count

⟢ 3k !

── .✦ tags ! (warnings included)

⟢ d:bh au, android!leon, second-person, no use of y/n bc i’d rather get pistol slapped in the neck, “welcome leon” reference :’), angst, gore descriptions.

── .✦ a/n !

⟢ i wrote this during this past summer so if any of the upcoming parts seem disconnected, it’s because they lowkey are like i fr forgot what all i was writing help- also leon mod by fuazap (IG) and connor pic by clancyaep!

⟢ part two!

⟢ part three!

September 30th, 2038.

5:47pm.

This was it: it was Leon’s first day as the first android detective in Raccoon City. He was a prototype, of course, but it was still fascinating nonetheless. Those interested in progress and supportive of the creation of androids were excited for such an achievement. Androids were slowly becoming more prominent in day-to-day life, and to have an android detective joining the RPD? That was just proof that not only the human race was evolving, but so was nascar the android race as well.

The blond android opened one of the double-doors to the station, taking in the sight and scent of it all. His baby blue irises flickered around, observing anything and everything about his new workplace. The department used to be an art museum, with some of the artworks still lingering in both obvious and hidden spaces. Each and every piece is still in great condition, cleaned with care even years later. His eyes then moved towards the people inside the building, mostly officers and other seasoned people in the workforce, but a few citizens there for various reasons as well. It was rather lively, he noticed — full of different people with different stories. It was intriguing, and he was ready to start his first day.

Mere moments later, a man walked up to the android, ready to introduce himself. Leon, however, was already scanning the stranger’s face and using any and all information accessible to him to identify the man before him. “Lieutenant Branagh, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Leon, the android sent by CyberLife,” the blond introduced, reaching out his hand to give the Lieutenant a firm handshake. His synthetic skin was sort of pale, yet soft and cool — almost as if he was a real human.

But he wasn’t. Everything about him was artificial, and if he ever had any doubts, he would be harshly reminded before he was reset. Can’t risk having any deviants, after all.

“Leon. It’s good to have you on the team,” Branagh replied, shaking Leon’s hand before guiding him through the station. “We’ve had a few cases come up within the last couple of days, and we’re eager to get you started to see if you can help us out.”

The android nodded softly in response, following Branagh. “Whatever it takes to save the city, count me in.”

The pair made their way through the building, eventually walking into the west office. Immediately, Leon noticed the wooden desks in the middle of the room, lined out perfectly. A smaller office was in the back left corner, most likely for someone of higher ranking compared to the everyday officer. Shelves and lockers decorated the empty spaces, serving various purposes.

Above the desk in the front was a sign, yellow letters painted on dark blue circles that read “welcome Leon.” All around it were star decorations, hung up by twirling ribbons. How sweet.

“We weren’t sure if you would need a desk or not, but some of us felt as if it would be better safe than sorry,” the lieutenant explained. Leon just gave a simple nod, thanking him for the thought.

That’s where you came in. His light blue eyes met yours and he immediately began to scan you, unbeknownst to you of course. His LED shifted to yellow for a moment before returning to the usual blue, and he was done figuring out the basic details of your identity.

You rose from your desk, walking over to Leon and Lieutenant Branagh before politely introducing yourself. You were one of the few people in the RPD that actually supported the existence of androids, advocating for them and defending them when and if needed. Unfortunately, most people in the department despised androids, but you chalked it down to them just feeling insecure and scared of progress. That’s probably all it was. That, and one too many sci-fi movies.

“Detective, as you know, you’ll be paired with Leon until further notice. I’ve already sent you every file you need for your first mission together. Any questions?” Branagh asked, making sure you two had everything you needed.

You thought for a minute, doing your best to ensure that you had every piece of information needed for the day that lies ahead. Once you were sure, you gave your response. “No, sir. I believe we’re good to go.”

“Great. I’ll be in my office.” And with that, Branagh went off, leaving you and your new companion alone to talk about your next mission. You weren’t really sure about what to do, as this was your first time working alongside androids, but it couldn’t be that much different from working with humans… could it?

“Your vital signs indicate that you are stressed… would you like to talk about it?” Leon inquired, his bright blue eyes searching your face as he awaited your response. Yeah… that’s what makes it different. He could tell if there was a change in your mood, your heart rate, anything. In one way, it was useful! It made missions and working with him a lot easier. But on the other hand, he knew basically everything that you were feeling, and that was terrifying.

“Uhhh… no, thank you,” you managed to reply, yet it grew more and more awkward with every fleeting moment. “I’m sure I’ll feel better when the case is solved.”

“Understandable. Now, we must move forward with our mission. Could you explain the details to me?” Leon requested, his brows furrowing slightly as he spoke. Everything about him seemed so… real. So human. But it was all just synthetic fibers and extensive coding in the end. Anyone with a brain could and would tell you that.

You nodded lightly in response, moving over to your desk to lift the files off of the stained wood before you. Gently flipping through the pages, you refreshed your memory before handing them over to your new partner to give him the chance to commit every detail to memory. “In summary, there’s been some people going missing a little further up north in the city. It stopped about three weeks ago, but… a Frankenstein-like android was spotted on Auburn a week ago and that raised suspicion. The cases may be connected and journalists are on us about it,” you explained, digging through your desk for something. Finally, you found it, handing it over to Leon.

It was a photo of the android, some parts missing, some parts replaced, but there was thirium and dirt all over it. It appeared to be taken by a surveillance camera, most likely the corner store right off of Auburn (you could tell because you could see the sign for that Chinese food buffet you and your best friend visit often).

Leon scanned the image, the LED on his temple flickering yellow for a moment before dissipating back into the normal bright blue hue. He’d likely need more information before determining the model of the runaway android. He then lifted his head from the photo to meet your gaze. “Do we know of the whereabouts of the android?”

“He was brought into questioning this morning after our team looked for him for several days. He doesn’t seem like a suspect, but I do think he could give us more intel,” you replied, adding the photo to the small, neat pile of files.

Your android partner gave you a small nod, gesturing for you to lead the way — and that you did. You carried the files within your arms, guiding Leon to the interrogation room where the damaged android sat. He was quiet, his eyes focused on the table before him. His dark hair was disheveled, his pale synthetic skin torn and covered in blue blood and grime. His clothes were dark, and didn’t fit him properly. Whatever happened, it must’ve been awful.

Most assumed that androids had little to no emotion whatsoever, and that theory was being tested as you glanced at Leon — his features were neutral as if nothing was happening. You, on the other hand, felt pity for the artificial human in front of you. He seemed traumatized, broken by whatever events had taken place to bring him here. It was heartbreaking, really.

You motioned for Leon to wait outside of the room, wanting to start the process yourself. You didn’t know what your new partner was capable of yet, and you just wanted to try to see if you could get anything out of the broken being in front of you before letting Leon step in.

Once the android detective stepped out of the room, waiting behind the two-way mirror. You sat down in the metal chair across from the possible victim, sifting through the files one last time before pressing him for any information.

You started with introducing yourself politely, giving your name and ranking, as well as stating why you were here before him. His gaze never shifted, but you could tell that he was listening to you — even if he seemed like he was mentally elsewhere. “Would you like to tell me your name? So I know how to address you?”

He didn’t respond. It was the same silence that filled the room upon your arrival. But once you waited for a few moments, the android softly sighed, yet still focused on the old metal table. “Samuel,” he replied in a quiet yet firm tone, possibly hiding whatever was going through his circuitry.

A small smile formed on your lips as you heard his response, feeling as if you made some progress with him. “Samuel… It's nice to meet you. I promise that you’re not in any trouble, I just need to ask you a few questions, is that okay?”

Another silence fell upon the room, but you hoped that you could move on and get some answers. And if you couldn’t, then maybe Leon could. “Several people have gone missing around Auburn Avenue within the last month or so. Just to be clear, we don’t suspect you, but we feel as if you may have some information for us since some security cameras spotted you in the area and you seem rather… distant, like you may know something that could help us.” You didn’t really have confirmed information at the time, but you hoped that your gut feelings were right about Samuel. Maybe he did know more than he was letting on.

“I didn’t- I didn’t do anything… I just wanted out of there…” Samuel stated, his tone rather emotional as he spoke. Androids weren’t supposed to feel emotion at all, especially not as strongly as humans do, right? He must’ve deviated at some point.

“I know, I know you didn’t,” you replied softly, trying to keep it easy on him for now. “Could you tell me more about the place you found yourself in? What happened there that scared you so badly?” After that question, you could tell that he was really starting to break down. Whatever he experienced must’ve been a nightmare that manifested into reality because you had never seen such heartbreak within an android’s face before.

You decided to have Leon join you, hoping the two of you could ease Samuel’s mind and get more information out of him to not only help your case, but to help this poor android as well.

Moments later, you and Leon sat across from Samuel, silence filling the room as Leon scanned the android. His systems determined that the model was an AP700, a type of CyberLife androids designed to be household assistants. Maybe he knew the suspect or one of the people that had gone missing?

“Could you tell us about what happened? Right from the start,” Leon requested as he watched Samuel’s every move, scanning the android’s heartbeat. He’s in distress, and rightfully so. They just needed to figure out why.

The broken droid before you remained silent, seemingly processing the events that brought him here in the first place. He took a few moments to answer, but he was slowly readying himself. He lifted his head, gaze meeting yours. The model originally had bright blue irises, practically an ice cold color. But now, all you could see was a black that seemed as if it was an empty void. How could so much emotion show within such empty eyes?

“Martha… Martha asked me to walk with her to and from work that night. Her car was in the shop, and she was too scared to be alone at night,” Samuel explained, his eyes flickering around the room as he tried to focus, doing anything in his power to calm himself down. Leon sat in silence, allowing Samuel to explain, and you decided to follow his lead for now.

“She was more than just the person I served… she was my friend. I could never deny her. So… I said yes. I waited in parking during her shift, and walked with her to her house. But on our route, a man shot at me, impairing my vision and then dragged her into an alleyway.” Samuel’s voice faltered as he spoke, every recollection of the past events just feeling like pure agony. You could tell that he was telling the truth based on his body language, and Leon detected the android’s heart rate had elevated significantly. Regardless, you wrote everything down on a notepad as your partner committed it to memory, leaving no details out.

The damaged droid sighed, his emotional distress growing significantly more apparent with every passing moment. You could dig through his memory and spare him the pain of remembering the events, sure, but that just felt plain wrong. Sure, he wasn’t alive, but he might as well have been. He didn’t deserve that. So, you let him speak, listening closely to every word he uttered.

“Naturally, I followed the man and tried to free Martha, but… I failed. Not without a fight, of course, but… I couldn’t save her. I continued my chase after him, which led me to a seemingly abandoned warehouse of some sort. When I got inside, Martha— Martha was strapped to a table, bleeding out and straining against the confinements. I didn’t see the man, so I tried to help her escape, but instead, he grabbed me and shot me more times than I can count.” His eyes began to fill with tears, but he quickly wiped them away and cleaned his grimy, skinless hands on his dark coat — trying to move on with his story. But it was difficult, as he often got choked up when trying to explain.

Even so, he did his best. He trusted you, and he understood that all you two wanted was to help him.

“But you woke up afterwards, so… what happened then?” you questioned, being gentle with him for now. If either of you were to be too harsh… he may stop answering or do something much worse.

“When I awoke, I was in a junkyard, but I found my way back to the warehouse after hours of searching for it. I knew it wasn’t smart to return, but I couldn’t help it… they had Martha. I couldn’t let her down like that. So I went inside, and after looking for about ten minutes, I found the man’s makeshift lab. There Martha was… skin battered and littered with open wounds. She had- she had died from her injuries.”

He readjusted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. As he spoke, Leon was scanning him, his LED flickering yellow, noticing how the other android’s heart rate elevated and his distress levels increased. So far, things seemed pretty factual. Now you would just need to ask a couple more questions and leave the broken droid alone to process things.

“I guess he was done with her because I was next. And… that’s why I look like this. He made me… a monster. I’m surprised I escaped,” Samuel concluded, sighing afterwards as he looked back down towards the table. He was weakened, both mentally and physically. Some would say that there was an error in his software— that he needed to be reset. But you, on the other hand, believed that he deserved a happy ending after everything he’s been through. His owner, and seemingly the woman he loved, had been experimented on and killed, with him suffering nearly the same fate.

How could someone even do something like that?

You were speechless, of course. Anyone with a heart would be. But Leon was made of codes and machinery, he didn’t think the way you did. He thought it would be best to get answers now and move on to the next case. “Could you explain to us what the man looked like?”

Samuel shrugged softly, “athletic, brown hair and green eyes. His left arm looked strange, like… like it wasn’t his arm.”

You wrote down every answer and every little detail, committing anything and everything to memory as Leon pressed Samuel for more answers. And finally, after what felt like hours of questioning, you had every answer you needed to proceed with the case. “We should head to the warehouse he described. We may find everything else we need there,” Leon suggested as he walked with you throughout the department. As the later hours approached, various staff members switched shifts with their coworkers, ready to get home. And as much as you would like to do the same, you’ve got quite the case on your hands and you severely doubted that you’d be sleeping anytime soon.

“You seem tired, Detective,” the blond stated as his gaze shifted to meet you. Yeah, he definitely scanned you again. That’s part of his job, of course, to check in on you, but it was still kind of unsettling. It would definitely take some time in order to get used to such a thing.

You opened the door to the west office, walking to your desk to put every case-related file together. “You’re right, which is why I’m gonna grab some coffee before we go. I have a feeling that this is going to be a pretty long night.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #android leon #android!leon kennedy x reader #detroit become human au #android!leon

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airbendertendou · 1 year ago

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bonten men seeing you with contacts for the first time.

[ glasses version ] no pronouns used / gender neutral. lowercase intended. cw : sanzu touches your throat non-sexually / non-threateningly , mentions of acne in kakuchos , reader wears a gloss / lipstain in kokos

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

— MIKEY! ♥︎

it wasn't ideal, your current situation. putting on your most expensive jewelry ; practicing your laugh ; extending your vocabulary just in case — it wasn't something you did often.

however, your biggest investor was invited to a gala, therefore you were meant to join in aswell.

letting out a breath, you enter the ballroom turned meeting area. you blink, squinting lightly at the twinkling lights before relaxing your eyes. with a small nod to yourself, you put on your prettiest smile before turning left and beginning your evening of socialization.

your feet feel numb ; your voice is aching with use ; your eyes have long since dried out — and you hadn't even seen mikey yet. he was the entire reason you were pushed to this gathering. settling your back against a wall, you let out another breath, convincing yourself to stay for just a little longer.

"you look nice."

the voice gets your attention immediately as you straighten up. mikey stands alone, just a little ways in front of you. he tilts his head and you swear his lips tilt up the slightest bit. you smooth sweaty, trembling hands over your outfit before speaking. "i've been looking for you, mister sano."

mikey's eyes call to yours — you really can't look away. he lets out a huff — you'd never say he laughed. "we're past the mister sano bit, aren't we, [name]?"

"i guess." your eyes drop to the floor briefly, just to get away from his heated gaze. a small tsk is heard before your chin is held in a gentle grasp, pulling your eyes to his once more. "mikey?"

"better." his hand drops but your face is still warm from his touch. "let's talk somewhere privately, yeah?"

— SANZU! ♥︎

a movie you don't even know the name of plays in the background as you eat your chosen snack. all day you've tried to ignore him and his pearl-blue eyes that wouldn't look away from you.

you click your tongue, turning to send a glare his way. "you are staring, sanzu haruchi—"

with a squeal, you find yourself on your back. you let out an astonished laugh as sanzu's knees go to either side of you, caging you beneath him. you gape up at him in shock, "haru!"

"let me look at you." his voice is gentle ; tender in a way you hadn't heard before. sure, it'd been years since you spoke, but he wasn't known for being soft. your eyes widen at the thought — sanzu lets out a sigh, his body slightly sagging into yours. "there we go..."

you blink a few times, begging for your contacts to stay in place as they begin to feel dry at the edges — crisp the longer you keep your eyes open. you can't help but induldge him, though, let him look at you for however long he wants.

“how dare you hide this from me,” haru caresses your cheek softly. “can't believe you’re so pretty.”

"i've always been pretty," you reply with a small frown.

sanzu grins wickedly, his hand trailing down to your throat before laying it there. "yeah... always pretty."

— KAKUCHO! ♥︎

you're avoiding him. really, you're avoiding everyone in the office at this point. with a frown, kakucho gathers a handful of blank or useless sheets of paper, slipping them into an empty folder before heading over to your office.

"just leave it in the bin!" your hand stretches out, pointing to the blue, overflowing tray. your back is turned to him, hunched over as the sound of keys clicking meets his ears. his frown deepens before the back of your chair is grabbed and spun so you now face him. you gasp, "kaku—!"

he's kneeling in front of you before you can blink. a long, relieved breath escapes his chest as he settles his forhead on your knee. "god, i—[name], i thought something was wrong with you. thought i did something to upset you."

your bottom lip is chewed through, but you continue to nibble on it anyways. "...sorry."

kakucho raises his head so that his chin sets on your knee now. gone is his work exterior and in its place is the softened, lovesick daze he shows only to you. "they look nice on you — can see you better this way."

you let out a groan, throwing your head back before looking down at him once more. "i'm breaking out so bad right now! only thing people can see is that!"

he wants to reassure you — really, acne is normal and you're still beautiful with it — but he's so enamoured by you. the way your eyes are a little glassy because of your contacts ; the frown on your lips ; the way you've been stroking his hair mindlessly just because you could—

kakucho sweeps in and steals a quick kiss. you gasp again — kissing during work hours?! he was a horrid man. kakucho grins before patting your thighs and standing.

— KOKONOI! ♥︎

the feeling of guilt creeps up as koko's doorbell rings. his hair is tossed into a bun, white strands falling into his eyes as he opens the door. you stumble in, halfway through a sentence as he offers you a pair of house slippers.

"—and, really, you're doing me such a favor!" you plop down onto his couch unceremoniously, letting out a huff as you do. "this was the worst night for me. your call was a blessing."

kokonoi blinks as he stands frozen in front of you. with a frown, he bends at the waist and simply waits until you're looking up at him. you tilt your head, phone open on your notes app as you stop mid-way through your sentence.

sharpened eyes drift down the rest of your attire. wrinkle-free clothes ; your nicest shirt ; your lucky socks? all combined with the contacts you're wearing and the gloss staining your lips— kokonoi stands straight and crosses his arms. "where have you been, exactly?"

"a date." you let out another sigh, rolling your eyes at his rigid posture. "not a good one, i assure you! had the audacity, asking to see me again — after chewing with his mouth open and spitting his food all over mine! i can never look at tortellini noodles the same."

kokonoi taks a seat beside of you, the work he called you for out of his mind as he gestures for you to keep talking. "you called just when he was going to put his number in my phone." a sneaky, proud grin grows on your lips. "i have your bonten tattoo as the picture, so that really scared him off."

while you talk, you scroll on your phone until his contact photo is shown. it's true — his side profile is fully in view. what catches his eye, however, is his name. a simple haji with a spinning heart emoji sends his own heart into a frenzy.

at kokonoi's grin, you sense trouble. you clear your throat, taking your phone from his view before scrolling on it again. "what was it you needed from me, exactly?"

an arm is thrown over your hips as kokonoi pulls himself close. his nose bumps against yours before he slides just slightly away. "for you to not go on anymore dates. unless they're with me, of course."

—— tried another one of these silly ones <3 if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyorev content, let me know! ♥︎

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @night-shadowblood-writes2 @chrofeisnightmaregf @natsumesakasakisupremacy @emperorsnero

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

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pomefioredove · 2 months ago

Note

Hello, lovely hooman! I hope you’re having a nice timezone!

If you wouldn’t mind, could I order a sugar cookie, number 19, with chestnuts, sprinkles, and chocolate drizzle, please?

Take all the time you need on this and I hope your dinner is yummy tonight!!!

ofc! thank you for your patience!

order #19, sugar with chestnuts, sprinkles, chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dying declaration (nemo moriturus praesumitur mentire)

summary: riddle thinks he's dying and has to make amends tropes: sick fic, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers characters: riddle additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, a little silly, somewhat ooc

"The strawberries... betrayed me?"

A look of pure panic takes Trey's expression. "NO! No, no they didn't, I'm sure it was the cream-"

You and Deuce share a look of pity for the poor vicewarden. Ace picks his nose.

"It was NOT the cream!" Riddle starts, sitting up straight in his sickbed. "Ace, did you not enjoy a generous helping of cream with your tea?"

Your classmate crosses his arms, trying not to look too amused. "I did, yeah, tons of it,"

"And how do you feel?"

"Eh... could go for some dinner,"

Riddle glares at Trey, who grumbles something about the ungrateful freshmen.

"It was not the cream, nor was it the sugar, pastry dough, tea leaves, or lemon juice," the housewarden says. "I was the only one who ate the tart, and I am the only one in the infirmary. Is that not right?"

"Actually, there's a Savanaclaw student with explosive diarrhea a few beds down- OOF!" Ace grunts as Deuce elbows him in the ribs.

Trey shakes his head.

"I just don't understand. Those strawberries were fresh from the gardens, I grew them myself. I checked them for quality, too- Cater was there. Right, Cater?"

The ginger stops snapping selfies in front of Riddle's hospital bed and turns. "Did you say something?"

Trey sighs. "You could at least try to take this seriously,"

"It's just food poisoning, dude," Ace says with a snort. "He'll live."

"And hospital pics do numbers on Magicam- #sickwarden!" Click!

"DISPOSE OF THAT AT ONCE!" Riddle rasps, trying to clamber out of the oversized bed like a toddler. Trey restrains him, and Ace bites his lip to force back a bout of laughter.

Deuce shakes his head. "Wish there was something we could do for you,"

"You could keep the dorm in one piece while I'm away," Riddle scowls, crossing his arms. "I might remind you, vice housewarden, to reread the rulebook."

Trey scratches his neck, nervously. "Uh... yeah,"

"And you- first years. Best behavior. That goes for you as well, Cater,"

The three look between each other. You bite your thumb, somewhat awkwardly left behind.

"And I'd like a moment with the Prefect, if you'd please,"

Trey winces. "Are you sure-"

"That's plenty enough, thank you," Riddle snaps, not an inch for disagreement. The four Heartslabyul cards exchange looks, and then pitifully see you off.

Great. You knew you shouldn't have let Ace and Deuce talk you into this.

Riddle sits up straighter, a sickening green tint to his skin from the sudden motion, and he rasps out a reply.

"I'm sure I don't have much time left,"

You blink. "Excuse me?"

"This is no common food poisoning," he explains, "This is a high-mortality magical food poisoning. I show symptoms- upset stomach, dizziness, fatigue, excessive sweating, strange odor-"

Yikes. "Okay, but that could be anything," you interrupt, if only to stop him from talking about his odor. "We've read about rare magical ailments in Crewel's class- magical food poisoning is almost impossible to get."

"Anymore," Riddle corrects you. "Because of the Board of Magical Health and Safety Inspection, the contamination that causes such an illness has been eradicated in supermarket produce."

"So?"

"You heard Trey- he grows his strawberries himself. I trust his ability to mitigate magical contamination in his environment, but the plants grown in the science club are not kept from rambunctious ruffians who use magic as if it were a toy,"

You blink. Is he serious?

"You really think you're dying,"

"I'm quite sure," he says, his hands folded over his lap. "I have mere weeks to live, and there's still much to be done. But, firstly, I believe there are some apologies in order."

You raise an eyebrow, but take a seat in one of the overstuffed infirmary chairs beside the bed. Riddle may be completely delirious with sickness, but you can hardly pass this up.

"Go on,"

He clears his throat. "...I would like to apologize for the... informality of our former relationship. I should have asked you for tea and a walk like a gentleman, but I was... hesitant to divulge this with my mother. I know she would insist upon chaperoning, and I... hm. Perhaps I wanted to keep you to myself for just a little longer. I understand now that that selfishness cost us both a great deal of happiness, and I-"

"Woah, hold on," you say, holding out a hand. Riddle raises an eyebrow at your (rather rude) interruption.

"I know about your mother. I always knew she would be a problem for us. But I didn't care."

Riddle's breath hitches, and the sickly color of his face deepens in hue. "I don't think you understand,"

"But I do," you say, hands on your hips. "I've almost died several times. I've had overblots, I've had poisonings, I've had sabotage and insurrection. I've had the end of the world- twice! You really think I'm not emotionally mature enough to handle a mother-in-law?"

His face reddens, as rosy as his hair and the strawberries that had bound him to his bed. For once, Riddle is at a loss for words.

"But... ah, you really don't understand,"

You lean towards him, taking his clammy, sweaty hand in yours.

"I wouldn't make you face her yourself. I know it's hard for you. But it's not for me. That's what makes us such a good pair, right?"

Riddle tenses, his hand tightening around yours and nearly yanking you out of your seat. For someone so sick, he's no less strong.

"It's not so simple,"

"I know," you say. "It never will be. That's why we should figure it out together."

You squeeze his hand, sweaty as it is, and he looks away. His lips are upturned in a sort of pout, making him look more childish than he already does in the large bed.

"...I wish we had spoken about this sooner," he finally says. "Now, there's simply no time to make everything right..."

"Riddle," you deadpan. "You're not dying. You probably have like, E. coli or something. Those strawberries were bad, that's why no one else was eating the tart."

He whips his head around, his face redder than before- though, this time, he's not blushing.

"And you didn't say anything before my apology?"

You shrug. "I didn't want to ruin the moment,"

Riddle sighs, defeated, and he collapses into the pile of pillows. "Why are all my underclassmen so horribly irresponsible? I should report you to the Headmage, you know- such a blatant disregard for the health of your classmates!"

That's much better. Way more like him. You smile and take your hand from his sweaty grip, wiping it on your pants.

"I'll be back with Ace and Deuce later. I've got a lot to tell them- and I think we all owe you a new tart. Er... make it raspberry, this time,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #queued

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hotvintagepoll · 9 months ago

Text

Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS poll blog!

The Scrungly Little Guys (gender neutral) Contest is currently in its quarterfinals stage. The scrungle contest enshrines the weird, the off-putting, the comic, the character actor, and the strange cinema legend. If you need a reminder of what scrungle means, this picture of an opossum is the golden standard.

All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, the Dracula Daily polls, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag. I am working on a more complete tagging system so people just here for the polls can navigate the blog more easily, but that's still in the works.

FAQs:

“Define scrungly?” For the purposes of this tournament, a contestant must noticeably present in some way as at least one of these: odd, bizarre, off-putting, disheveled, creeping, feral, small, filthy, silly, funny, kooky, comical, exhausted, or just plain strange. This contest presents a wide array of scrungly appeal, so not every contestant will hit every single one of these (but should, ideally, be a few of them). Scrungles were chosen based on how convincing their submitted propaganda was. This contest is all about oddball character actors, creeping henchmen, comic relief sidekicks—the side characters who never get the credit they deserve in proper rundowns of famous old movie actors.

"How do I decide who to vote for with the scrungles?" Vote on whoever seems scrungliest to you. Do not vote for someone based on hotness alone. The video propaganda, included under the cut, is highly encouraged for showcasing scrungles. This contest is very silly and does not always follow the same rules as the hotness tournaments.

"Hey! Some of these guys sucked and they shouldn't be here!" Yes, some of these guys sucked. I agree with you. For reasons I've gone into before, I don't exclude anyone from the contest for moral reasons, even if I personally think they were garbage. I do this because I cannot responsibly research and vet every competitor's background and legacy, and I'm not comfortable being the moral barometer for everyone, even in cases where I think it's really obvious. You are welcome to vote against people for moral reasons, but as mod I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about anyone.

If I see repetitive, trolling, or bigoted remarks in the comments, I will block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a competitor’s problematic aspects in the replies, that’s fine, but if I see bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked. I will also block if you start harassing other people voting on the polls. If you really hate that someone is winning, please post positive propaganda for their opponent instead.

I welcome additional propaganda for the scrungly little guys in reblogs or asks. I boost the best propaganda I see and try to boost equally for everyone. I don't accept propaganda that’s post-1970 or from non-film appearances. When sending your propaganda, please don't send me too many pics or videos at once—I max out at about four per ask.

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t alter submissions beyond fixing obvious spelling mistakes. I do choose the poll pics, purposely trying to pick the silliest ones possible for this contest; if you think I could do even sillier, send me one I can use instead. If you think a contestant needs more propaganda, send me an ask with some and let me know if you'd like it added to the poll post if they make it to the next round.

“Who won the major hottie tournaments?” Eartha Kitt and Toshiro Mifune are the reigning hotness champions. Sidney Poitier & Diahann Carroll were named the hottest movie couple. They are all living it up by the pool, drinking daiquiris and soaking up the sun, as far from the shadow realm as possible.

“What's the shadow realm?” All hotties who fail to continue in a tournament are sent to the shadow realm, far below the veil of the earth, in gloom ever-lingering and not-hotness evermore.

“Was [this famous person] submitted to any of the tournaments?” Try a tag search for them (ie, #james cagney in the search bar). If you still haven’t found your person, they either did not fit the criteria of working in movies from 1910-1970, weren't convincingly scrungly in their submission, or were not submitted at all.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the polls.

Tournament schedule post-hiatus:

Now finished: Hot Men Tournament, Hot Women Tournament, Dracula Daily casting polls, the Hot Coupes Mini Tournament

Starting September 26th: Scrungly Little Guys contest (gender neutral)

TBD: Ultimate Hottie Tournament (top brackets of the hot men & hot women competing together)

TBD: Horror Hotties (Frankensteins, Draculas, Brides, etc.)

TBD: Dandy Detectives (Marples, Sherlocks, Nancy Drews, etc.)

Fun mini polls that pit sets of characters from the same movie together, like the Philadelphia Story or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers ones (these can be found in the #minis tag)

#housekeeping #scrungly little guys #hotvintagepoll #scrungly 6

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slightly-sigilant · 2 months ago

Text

hello fallen londoners, I desire to build up a database of test subjects (aka FLOCs to draw for practice). if you would like to submit your FLOC for test subjecthood please reblog or reply to this post with said OC, a pic of them, and a little bit about their vibes. all genders, species, and mental illnesses welcome

please note: there is no guarantee whether I will actually draw your little guy (gender neutral) nor that the drawing will actually be good if I do. I'll just pick whoever I'm feelin for the day, if anyone. all drawings will be sfw and also probably very low effort

ty pals

#fallen london

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atrueneutral · 1 year ago

Note

If you’ll permit me to say, you are one of my favorite Raphael x Tav writers of all time. I just adore the way you write them both, their dynamic, etc. (And I am a sucker for Raphael who is obviously Down Bad™️ but would never admit it).

Your work is incredible, it is just

*Chef’s kiss*

#THANK YOU 😭#❤️#now back to writing!#neutral replies with a pic #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #neutral answers

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w2soneshots · 1 year ago

Text

Early -W2S

words: 1.9k+

warnings: pregnancy, birth.

summary: the boys surprise you with one last trip before you and Harry become parents but it doesn’t go as expected.

notes: hey! Haven’t done one for bog in ages so here’s the longest one shot I’ve ever written to make up for it😚. This was a request and I think it turned out really cute, enjoy🫶🏼💕

Liked by ksi and 205,381 others

y/username: one last trip🫶🏼

Tagged: @wroetoshaw @behzingagram @tobjizzle @faithlousak

-comments-

taliamar: can't wait to see you!😘

-> y/username: hurry up!!

faithloisak: no not that pic pahahaha

y/nfanpage21: are they all on a trip together??🥺

user41095623: the horse🫶🏼

Me and Harry have been together for around 7 years and got married a two and a half years ago. We had a very private wedding with just our closest friends and family. Over a year after we got married we decided that we were ready for a baby and were really excited about it. It took just a few months before I had a positive pregnancy test in my hand. I told Harry that night and he was elated. Everyone has been so supportive and the girls are so excited. We also decided to keep the baby's gender a secret so have only been buying gender neutral clothes.

Last month the boys surprised me and Harry with a three day long trip to a huge lodge/ house in wales, the reason it isn't somewhere extravagant (like usual) is because I'm almost 36 weeks pregnant and can't fly. It's going to be JJ, Simon, Josh, Tobi, Ethan, Harry, Freya, Talia, Faith, Olive and me, unfortunately Vik wasn't able to make it due to being busy abroad DJing. Since we're going to be pretty busy once we have a baby the boys wanted to have one last trip before we become parents.

This morning I got up early and got ready. Since we're going to be in the car for a few hours I put on some jeans and a simple white top. Then Harry got up, took a shower and once all our bags were in the car, we left.

Faith called me after a few minutes of driving, "hey!" She said excitedly. "Hi! We just left." I replied. "Same, it took ages to get Olive in the car. One second she was in tears, then she needed her nappy changed... that'll be you soon." She laughed. I sighed "can't wait." I said sarcastically. She giggled "well, I'll see you there!" "Bye!" And with that I put the phone down.

After almost a three hour drive we finally arrived at our destination. Harry got out and quickly ran around the front of the car to help me out. "Hey!" Me and Harry turned around to see Tobi walking towards us. "Alright mate?" Harry asked as they did their little bro handshake. "Ye great, how are you too?" He pulled me into a quick hug. "Really good! I'm excited to have some time to relax and this place is beautiful!" I answered. Before anything else was said Ethan's car pulled up. Faith jumped out excitedly and quickly ran to give me a hug while Ethan got Olive from the back seat. "Hi!" Faith exclaimed. I smiled "how was your drive?" I asked. Faith went on to tell me about the fact Olive was crying the entire time, up until the last five minutes when she inconveniently fell asleep.

I took a picture of the boys outside the house and sent it to the group chat along with a caption telling them to hurry up. JJ arrived a few minutes later, then Josh and Freya. Talia text the group saying that they were going to be late. So we decided to go on a walk and explore.

We grabbed our coats and started walking, Olive being carried by Ethan. After just five minutes we ran into a dog who seemed to be all by himself. Just as Faith knelt down to pet it I pulled my phone out and told her to pose for a picture. She awkwardly smiled at the camera and we all burst out laughing. The owner started running towards us a few seconds later "oh my gosh. I'm so sorry!" She said after calling her dog over. Faith smiled "don't worry about it."

As we continued walking we spotted a beautiful horse in a field across from the one we were in, both me Faith and Freya took a photo. Then we made our way back to the house. All the boys went out in Ethan's car to get the food for the next few days while we chilled. They came back after an hour with a large selection of food and we decided that we were going to have spaghetti bolognaise for dinner.

Simon and Talia finally arrived a while later, just after we started making dinner. Faith started making the sauce and I helped her by cooking the pasta and tidying up as we went. Talia quickly jumped in to take my place once she'd put her bags in her and Simon's shared room, telling me to 'go sit down and relax'. Which is exactly what I did. Sitting down on the couch next to Harry I sighed and placed my legs on his lap. "You alright?" He whispered into my ear. I hummed "yea."

We ate dinner together at the huge dining table and it was delicious. We decided to watch a movie so all sat in the living room. Me and Harry sat in our previous position on the couch, along with Faith, Ethan and JJ while Talia sat on Simon's lap in the arm chair and Tobi, Freya and Josh sat on top of some pillows on floor. We decided on a movie and within an hour JJ was fast asleep. I was fighting to keep my eyes open when Harry spoke "do you wanna go up to bed?" He asked quietly. I just nodded. "Come on then."

We said good night to everyone and Harry helped me upstairs. "Are you alright?" He asked me as I took my makeup off. "Yea, it's just- my back hurts." I replied. He walked over to me and placed a hand on my lower back, gently rubbing circles. I hummed and leaned into his touch. When we finally got into bed Harry wrapped his arms around me and placed his hand on my bump. I rested my hand on top of his and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I woke up with a strong urge to pee. I slid out of the bed but just before I made it to the ensuite I felt warm liquid trickle down my legs. I looked down "did I just piss myself?" I thought. My eyes widened "no, it's too early!" I whispered to myself. I waddled to the toilet and sat down. "What do I do? We're in the middle of nowhere!" My brain raced, along with my heart.

Once I'd calmed myself down slightly I stood, took a deep breath and went to wake Harry up. "Haz wake up, Harry!" I shook him. He slowly opened his eyes "what is it, babe?" He mumbled. "I think my water just broke." He immediately shot up, now fully awake "what?!" He exclaimed. "Shh, you're gonna wake everyone up!" I whispered.

When we figured out what we were going to do I got changed out of my wet pyjamas and into some sweatpants and one of Harry's t-shirts, brushed my teeth and tied my hair back into a ponytail. All while Harry tried to calm himself down. "How are you so calm right now?" He asked me. I turned my head to him "everything's fine Harry, I've not even had a contraction yet-" just as the words came out of my mouth a tight pain spread through my stomach "ow" Harry rushed over to me "oh shit- are you ok? Are you having a contraction?" He rambled. I nodded "I think so." The pain wasn't that bad (yet) but I was struggling to focus on what Harry was saying.

Once it finished Harry helped me down stairs. I assumed it was really early, like 5am or something but almost everyone was sat in the kitchen. I glanced the clock on the wall, it's half nine. "Hey! Uh is everything ok?" Ethan asked. Me and Harry shared a look. "What's wrong?" Talia stepped toward us. "Uhm- y/n's water just broke." Harry said. All of their eyes widened and their mouths fell open slightly. "What?!" Faith expressed. "So the baby's coming like now?!" Simon asked loudly. "Well, probably in the next few hours." I answered calmly. "No no no, this can't be happening!" JJ nervously started to pace back and forth. Me and Harry giggled slightly at how stressed they all were.

Just as everyone started to calm down I was hit with another contraction. I grabbed onto the counter and my eyes fluttered closed. Harry gently rubbed my back and everyone went silent. I chuckled lightly through the pain "guys I'm fine."

Faith and Talia helped me to the car while Harry pulled together a bag with some of my things. "This will be a good story to tell in ten years." Faith said as we walked out of the front door. I giggled. Once we got to the car I got into the passenger seat and Harry raced out of the house a few seconds later. Everyone waved us off as we pulled out of the driveway "good luck!" Freya shouted.

The nearest hospital was around half an hour away so I had a few painful contractions as Harry drove, nervously glancing over at me as I breathed through them. I called my mum and told her what was going on, she chuckled "it could only happen to you, good luck and call me when she's here!" "Mum we don't know if it's a girl yet." I told her for the one hundredth time since I told her I was pregnant. "Just a feeling!" She exclaimed "I love you." she continued "love you too, bye."

When we finally arrived at the hospital me and Harry walked inside and were almost immediately taken to a room. The doctor checked me out and told me I was almost 7 centimetres dilated and that it wouldn't be long.

She was right because just an hour later I was holding our beautiful baby girl, mum was right. Even though she's early she was checked over immediately and is perfectly healthy. After getting cleaned up a nurse came in to tell me that there were some people in the waiting room that wanted to see me. I told her to let them in, knowing exactly who it was. A few minutes later Talia ran into the room, followed by everyone else. "Oh my god!" She whispered, careful not to wake up the sleeping baby. "Is it a girl?!" Faith whispered. I nodded with tear stained cheeks "yea." All the boys (except Ethan since he was outside with Olive) gave Harry a pat on the back while the girls fussed over me and the baby.

The next day we drove home. Thankfully we'd already installed the baby seat into the car so we could actually take her home. "I still can't believe she's ours." I said as I watched her from my place in the back seat. "Ye, we're actually parents, it's crazy." Harry replied.

y/username

Liked by tobjizzle and 1,501,923 others

y/username: our baby girl🤍 Our hearts couldn't be more full, welcome to the world little Willow Lewis. Mummy and daddy are so excited to be your parents.

-comments-

wroetoshaw: my girls❤️

behzingagram: congratulations again guys😁

faithloisak: cuties💕

r0sielewis: I'm in tears🥺

y/nfanpage21: OMG!!

user71015839: wroetoshaw and y/n are parents. I'm officially old😭

#w2s #harry lewis #harry w2s #wrotoshaw #w2s imagine #wroetoshaw x reader #wroetoshaw oneshot #wroetoshaw #harry lewis x reader #fanfic #image #oneshot #simon minter #x y/n

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torukmaktoskxawng · 1 year ago

Note

Hey I was wondering if I could make the request of an Aonung x human reader who has a bunch of norse tattoos and he's curious about them?

(Adult Ao'nung by @cinetrix2)

Pairing: Ao'nung/Human!Reader (can be seen as platonic)

Warnings: Cute. Fluff. Aged-up characters. Reader can be seen as gender-neutral since gender is not mentioned.

Taglist: @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @taronyuhunter @alinacecee

A/n: I hope you know that by making this request, it got me thinking of getting another tattoo. When I started writing this, I ended up going to a friend's house the same night and begged her to give me an Avatar tattoo. Pic Here.

~~~~~~~~~

With Jake and his family as full-fledged Metkayina now, the reef people have slowly become accustomed to human allies coming and going from their island whenever Toruk Makto gives them a call.

As the years progress, both species actually begin to mingle a bit, and eventually, a small, human settlement finds its way to Awa'atlu. You were the first to live on said settlement, assigned to it by Norm because both he and Jake agreed that your expertise belonged on the island and the Metkayina have grown to know and trust you.

Among those who have gotten to know you were none other than the olo'eyktan's son, Ao'nung. And while it was clear that the two of you were friends, there was still a mystery about you that he had not yet discovered, and that was your physical appearance, specifically your tattoos.

You had several, more than anything Ao'nung had seen on Sky People before, and that was just the tattoos he could see peeking out from beneath your clothes. While some of your ink kind of resembled Ao'nung's, he noticed they took different shapes and didn't have any Na'vi significance that he knew of. Regardless, your tattoos were a small part of why the Metkayina trusted you more than other human allies, simply because you visibly had something in common with them, and he often wondered if yours bore any sort of significance like his does.

"Do all Sky People have tattoos?"

Looking up through your breathing mask, you catch Ao'nung's curious gaze while sitting comfortably in the sand as you work on identifying a rock for your research. Looking back down at your datapad, you reply, "No. Not all."

"Do they only get them when they're of age?"

"No, we usually get them whenever we feel like it," you snort, recalling getting your first one at seventeen, despite the laws stating you needed to be eighteen where you lived at the time. Your mother nearly fainted.

Ao'nung frowns in disbelief, "So there is no meaning?"

"Some tattoos have meaning. Others don't."

"What about yours?"

Your smile is genuine, beaming in a way one does when talking about their favorite interests, "Mine resemble my heritage. Where I come from."

Watching the confusion only grow on the young Na'vi's face, you further explain by pointing out your tattoos, starting with the key-like shape inked into the front of your neck, "It's a Nordic rune. It represents perseverance."

You then peer down and present your arm to Ao'nung, pointing out the tattoo on the inside of your forearm, "Vegvisir."

The word that left your lips sounded so strange to Ao'nung, his ears instinctively twitching at the pronunciation. Looking down at the tattoo on your arm, observing the intricate line work before peering back up at your face, he waits for you to explain the significance, and you do,

"It's meant to appear as a wayfinder. To help the wearer not get lost and find their way home. It's a symbol of protection and guidance."

Your hands then reach up to the collar of your shirt and pull it down to reveal one of your favorite and more prominent tattoos. Ao'nung's eyes widen at such wonderful artwork. At the center of your collar, just above your heart, was the picture of a beautiful, intricate tree, the branches meant to twist and form Celtic knots into the ink, the roots of the tree running down your sternum and disappearing into your shirt.

"This is Yggdrasil."

"Eggdrazil?" Ao'nung felt his own tongue knot itself just trying to properly pronounce the word, but even he could admit it sounded wrong coming out of his mouth.

"No," You laugh lightly while slowing it down pronouncing it to the best of your ability in a Na'vi accent, "IG-drah-sill. It's the Tree of Life. I'm not sure how else to explain it without sounding preachy or confusing, but... it's kind of like your people's Spirit Tree, in a way."

His eyes widen with surprise, staring down at the tree tattoo with newfound fascination at the idea that a human culture could be so similar to his own. Slowly reaching out, his fingers press into the ink on your collar, and you stubbornly stay still, refraining from the pleasant shiver that threatened to run down your spine at the contact.

Inspecting the tattoo with both his fingers and his eyes, Ao'nung finds himself thinking out loud, muttering under his breath, "They almost resemble what a warrior would wear."

You find your smile unapologetically twitching with amusement, "Well, technically, that's exactly who my ancestors were. Warriors."

Ao'nung's curious eyes finally meet yours again, excuding confidence, "And you as well."

Your smile melts into something more genuine, "And me as well. Just like you."

His lips curl into a smile of his own.

~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

RULES

REQUEST

#ao'nung #ao'nung x reader #aonung x reader #aonung #ao'nung fluff #ao'nung x you #aonung fluff #ao'nung imagine #aonung imagine #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #atwow imagine

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lov3rachan · 5 months ago

Text

You’re Mine, hoe

Summary: Lee Know goes on a first date and it’s… cattivating

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Fluff, humour, gender neutral (you/your)

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 638 words

Series: ValenTinder

Comment: Hope you like it!

Requested by: no one

Written: 14.02.2025-16.02.2025

Tag list: @blueohs

He wasn't going to lie: the cat got him.

He had a vague idea of who you were and he didn't dislike you, but the cat picture got him to swipe right.

Lee Know honestly couldn't believe how cute your cat was so his original plan was to meet up, share pics and eventually become friends.

He honestly couldn't be bothered to dress up either, going with the bare minimum to not look out of a dump.

As he was walking to the cat cafe you were meeting up at, he scrolled through his gallery to see which pics he was going to show you first.

Once at the meeting spot, it wasn't hard to notice you and, after a short bow, he sat down.

He thought he was going to be normal about it, he really did.

However, as you introduced yourself and smiled, rambling about how much you liked his cats' appearances in his vlogs, all thoughts left his head.

Was this how love felt?

In that moment, Minho had half a thought to run away because his heart was racing and his mind had gone blank.

He was so busy all up in his head, that he barely realised that you had stopped talking and you were now looking at him expectantly.

Fuck. You had asked a question.

Living up to his paboracha membership, he replied, hoping he'd get it right: "Yeah".

There was an awkward silence that, at least to him, seemed to extend for ages.

"... The question was about what you wanted to order. You might wanna rephrase that" you teased him.

Minho felt himself blush, his ears bright red, as he mumbled an embarrassed: "Oh, uhm... yeah. Right. Uhhhh...".

The rest of the conversation went fairly smooth.

He let you talk, intervening when he felt like it, and observed you, his glance taking in every detail.

He was down bad, he realised.

Whenever Minho spoke, he couldn't help but stutter a bit or act unsure.

Lee Know's perfectly nonchalance had left him defenseless and he did not like it, especially since he felt like he was messing up this date.

As you two left, he scrambled to take out his wallet, as you reached for your bag.

"NO!" he shouted, making a few other customers turn to you.

Minho cleared his throat: "I-I mean... let me pay. Please".

Between his pleading eyes and his pitiful voice, you couldn't help but let him.

After paying, he accompanied you outside and he nervously touched his neck, trying to find the right words.

He had never felt that nervous, not even on stage, yet he couldn't help but sweat through his shirt.

"I know that this didn't go well... but... uh..." he started.

Right at that moment, his phone rang and he cursed every single one of the gods above.

It was Chan.

As he excused himself, he picked up the call, angrily whispering: "What? I’m a bit busy".

"Oh, yeah the date. Sorry bro. I need you in the recording booth right now because your files got corrupted somehow. It's kinda urgent" Chan answered apologetically.

Minho scoffed and quickly agreed before turning to you.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to do now?

Luckily for him, you got the hint.

"Gotta go?" You asked him.

"Uh... uhm... yeah" he replied, mentally face palming.

"Real smooth" he scolded himself.

With a smile, you quickly pecked him on the cheek before handing him a small piece of paper: “Gentle Lee Know is cute. Here’s my number”.

You then winked at him and left, semi-shouting a "See you next date, Minho".

"Next date". You said "next date" and you kissed him on the cheek.

It was safe to say that Lee Know's good mood was positively ensured, at least for the next few hours.

Lucky Chan.

#skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know #stray kids x reader #[🐰] djin's writing #[ ✍️ ] djin’s writing

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 4 months ago

Text

didn't realize this was the liberal arts; part four (jason todd x reader)

Jason chaperones your stakeout

part four of my college jason series. Rest of the series is here

you're quiet in one of jason's classes, but when he runs into you beating up his perp, he learns you're kind of an asshole. too bad he's gotta help you with whatever batshit mission you're on.

reader is gender neutral except Jason calls them princess. reader is less mean at this point but still not very nice. but jason's warming up to that.

swearing, as always. no use of y/n. I don't know how long this is.

_____

Jason’s phone is burnin’ a you-sized hole in his pocket.

It’s embarrassing, the way he dives for it when he gets a notification. More than once, he’s stopped during patrol and taken his phone out, just to make sure he didn’t miss your message. In his defense, it’s the first time he’s given his number to anyone cute.

Are you cute? Jason’s gotta run his teeth over that one. Objectively, yes, but also, you’re kind of an asshole. But that’s growing on him.

Either way, you’re driving him crazy. You have his burner number, why don’t you goddamn use it? It’s almost enough to make him call Dick and ask for advice. Almost.

Besides, you’re not in class this week. Which is concerning, because you took a nasty hit that probably gave you a concussion. So it’s not totally wild that Jason’s obsessing over your text. He’s got a neat little excuse he can hide under.

Finally, six days after you got hurt, when he’s lying on his couch and staring into space, he gets a text from an unknown number.

Addresses?

Jason laughs to himself quietly. That’s gotta be you; you don’t mince words.

Not yet

Jason hasn’t had a chance to get his hands on the info you were looking for, the addresses of some of Black Mask’s drug dealers.

Why not?

Christ, were you raised in a barn?

Been busy.

Jason thinks for a moment, then adds—

Running your errands isn’t the only thing on my to do list, princess.

Heh. Serves you right.

Jason has been busy, he’s investigating a string of armed robberies. Plus, and he’d sooner die than admit this to you, he’s not exactly great with computers. They were never his strong suit, and it seems like tech advanced by light years when he was underground. He can do it, but it’ll take some annoying grunt work he just doesn’t feel like doing.

Your reply dings.

Fine. Fair point.

Wow-whee. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to him.

Lmk when you get them.

Sure thing, princess

He makes a mental note to work on it tonight.

A few minutes go by, but you don’t say anything else. Maybe the conversation’s over?

Hm. Jason hesitates, then types out another message.

How’s your head?

It takes another few minutes, but then—

Fine.

Jason bites his tongue, considering.

You got it checked out?

Yes. Don’t worry about it

Well, unfortunately, Jason is worried about it. Enough that he won’t take this crap.

He wonders how he can tell you that without seeming like he cares. That seems like something he should keep close to his chest, right?

I gotta look after collateral damage. You get hurt, it’s on me.

Again, another few minutes until your reply. Jason doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits.

YES I got it checked out. It’s FINE. In bed for a few days, that’s it.

Good. A thought occurs to him, he can’t resist teasing you.

Send a pic of the scans?

He laughs, imagining your reply. It’s near immediate.

Fuck off.

Jason smiles at his phone. That, he thinks, is definitely the end of the conversation. But if he finds those addresses for you, he’ll get another one. He goes over to his desktop and gets to work.

Two hours later, he’s got two addresses for his pains. He doesn’t waste a second before sending them your way.

Got ‘em

He waits impatiently for your reply. Five, ten, twelve minutes go by, but he just sits at his desk and stares at his messaging app.

Finally:

You free tonight? I want to check them out

Uh. What.

Tonight? He glances at the time; it’s already 9:45. Jason should be getting ready to suit up.

You mean now?

Yeah, whatever, I can be ready in half an hour

There’s a wild, plunging feeling in his stomach. Can Jason be ready in half an hour? Can he be ready at all? He realizes his heart is pounding, his breath coming thick and fast.

Jason drops his phone with a thunk. He tries to get a grip on himself, but he can’t; you’ve hooked him up to an electric current and slammed a thousand volts through it. You free tonight? You free tonight? Your simple message loops through his brain over and over and over again. You free tonight? Does he have time for you tonight? It sure seems like you have time for him.

You free tonight?

Fuck yeah, he is.

He picks up his phone with shaking fingers. He’ll meet you tonight, but how should he tell you? What should he say? Should he just type out something like “fine?” That’s probably what you’d say to him, but he doesn’t want to talk to you like that. Just a simple “ok?” Why is this so fucking hard?

His eyes alight on his helmet, sitting on his coffee table. Right. He’s not doing this as Jason, who you hate. He’s doing this as Red Hood, who you need.

And Red Hood knows how to do a stakeout.

Jason turns back to his phone.

Gimme a few hours, princess. I gotta put my makeup on.

Two hours later, he’s in a crap car outside your apartment building, waiting for you to join him. He’d bought the car quick and paid cash from a chop shop nearby. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he sees you exit the building and approach him warily. He waves you inside.

“Come on, hop in.”

You roll your eyes but cross in front of the hood regardless, slipping off your backpack and sliding in next to him. “What’s with the car?”

Jason waits for you to put your seatbelt on, then shifts into gear. “You don’t have to climb a fire escape to get a good look at a place. We’re watching from right here.”

“Fine.” You turn to look out the window as Jason navigates through the streets. He surveys you from his peripheral vision; you seem to be fully recovered from your mild concussion. You’re carefully noting the route he’s taking; at one point you raise your eyebrows and nod grimly. Jason taps lightly against the gearshift. He knows better than to ask you about it.

After twenty minutes on the road, Jason eases the car to the top of a hill and cuts the engine. “Guy’s apartment is there,” he nods to a building that the hill has put at eye level. “Tenth floor, fourth window from the left.”

You cock an eyebrow. “There’re no lights on. We have to wait for them to wake up?”

“More likely that he’s on shift, dealing.” Black Mask’s guys usually work round the clock, each one setting up shop for a few hours before rotating out. Your mouth settles into a hard line, and you nod.

Jason lets out a breath, settling in for the long haul. It might be hours until anyone comes back. “What are we here to look for?”

You glance at him. “I’m looking for a guy. I know his face and where he dealt. I need to see him to recognize him, make sure it’s the right one.”

Hm. “Whatever you say,” Jason agrees, and silence falls between you.

Idly, Jason wonders what’ll happen next. He’s used to long stakeouts and knows how to occupy himself, but he wonders what you’ll do. After a few minutes, you open your backpack and pull out a book. It’s the reading for next week’s lit class, La Princessa de Cléves by Madame de La Fayette. “You mind if I get some work done?”

“Nah.” He hesitates; he wants to use this opportunity to pry, but he can’t let on that he already knows so much. “You a student?”

“Yeah. Gotham U.” You prop your legs on the dashboard and flip the book open, sticking your tongue between your teeth. Jason studies you as you read ten pages. Turns out he’s never seen you happier than when you’re reading. You smile, chuckle, and smirk knowingly as you go, scribbling furious notes with a pencil you’ve brought with you. He can’t help but smile behind the helmet. A thought steals into his head: will you ever look at him that way? He brushes it aside.

After twenty minutes, you snap the book shut and tip your head back toward the roof of the car. You close your eyes and tap your fingers on your thigh, brow furrowed in concentration. After a few more minutes, you sigh, giving your thigh a short slap before opening your eyes and pulling your knees to your chest, resting your head on them.

Of course he has to know what’s going on in your head. Jason clears his throat. “Book get your panties in a twist?”

“Nah, not the book.” You let out a huff. “Just trying to figure out what to say in my class.”

Huh. Jason didn’t know you planned your remarks ahead of time. He wants to ask what you’ll say, but you beat him to it. “Someone is going to make a connection to the author’s personal life, I know they are,” you explain. “And then, I’ll say,” you nod to yourself. “Yeah, okay, I’ll say that we always talk about the female authors’ personal lives more than the men’s. Which is true,” you add, as if Jason is going to argue the point. “We do. It’s an imbalance. I’m right to point it out. But then,” you roll your eyes. “Then, this other guy is going to try and counter me by saying that, even if I’m right, which I am, we can’t ignore the similarities between the author’s life and the text, because it leads to a richer analysis. And then he’s going to give some text examples.” You scratch your nose. “It’s fucking annoying. We’ll both be right.”

Jason’s eighty percent sure he’s the guy you’re talking about. He has to nudge you. “Why don’t you just tell this guy that he’s right?”

You scowl. “Absolutely not.”

Jason grins fit to split his face in half. “Then why don’t you just keep your mouth shut?”

You glance at him, sideways. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Yeah. That’s exactly it, isn’t it?

“What’s this guy’s name?” The words are out before he can stop himself.

You examine your fingernails. “Jason.”

You’re talking about him. His heart thumps crazily. Careful, he screams at himself. Watch it, watch it, shut the fuck up, shut the fuck—

“What’s he like?”

Blood pounds in his ears. You look over at him with suspicion. “Why do you care?”

Fuck. He fucked up. You might work out who’s under the mask. He wasn’t careful, and now he’s put you both at risk. Idiot. Jason shrugs helplessly.

The skepticism doesn’t leave your eyes. Jason scrambles and pulls something out of his ass. “Just trying to figure you out, princess.”

“Hm.” You turn away, looking resolutely out the windshield.

Jason breathes out shakily. He clean got away with it. Does this mean he can ask you more questions?

“What do you study?”

You shrug. “I haven’t officially decided, but literature, probably. English.”

Huh. Just like him. “Why?”

You shrug. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Yeah. Just like him.

Jason leaves that alone for now. “Where’d you learn to fight?” he asks instead.

“Just karate classes I took as a kid, and judo.”

“You’re good,” Jason offers.

You scoff. “Sure, thanks.” You turn to look at him, raising your eyebrow and giving him a smirk that momentarily distracts him. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

Uh oh. Mute, Jason jabs a finger at the bat symbol on his chest.

“Right,” you nod. “Is he, like, your mentor?”

“Was,” Jason grunts, hoping you’ll let it lie. You don’t.

“‘Was?’ What happened?”

Fuck. Does Jason really want to do this? Also, and this really doesn’t fucking matter, but why are you more interested in Red Hood than Jason?

“Uhh…” he trails off, hoping you’ll pick up on his reticence. You cross your arms over your chest and look at him expectantly.

Damn it. “Uh, yeah, he was my mentor, but then…” but then what happened? Did Batman betray him? Did he fail his Robin? Or did Robin fly a little too close to the sun and get what he deserved?

“But then I…I left.” Closest he can get to the truth. “And he replaced me.” He can’t say any more, can’t breathe past the lump in his throat.

“Damn. That sucks.” You unfold your legs, setting them onto the floor of the car. “My mom kind of did that to me.”

He tilts his head at you. “She left,” you say, voice tight. “Went off and had more kids. Didn’t bother to keep in touch with me, though.”

Oh. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Jason mulls this over. Your story is a lot closer to his than you know.

You remain quiet, but his hackles are up; it’s been a long-ass time since anyone confided in him. He glances your way. Your face is relaxed, you don’t seem to regret sharing that.

Huh. Huh, huh, huh. Jason’ll run away with that one if he can’t control himself.

“Oh, shit.” He looks up; your eyes trained on the apartment building. “Lights are on.” You look at him. “You got binoculars in that thing? Forgot mine at home.”

Jason laughs quietly. “Yeah, hold on.” He adjusts the helmet’s lenses. “What kind of guy you lookin’ for?”

He feels you tense next to him. “White guy. Blonde, dirty beard.”

“Anything else?”

You lock yourself down even further. “Disgusting-ass diamond neck tattoo under his chin,” you spit.

Jason waits until whoever entered the apartment comes into view. It looks like it might be a woman; whoever it is, they don’t fit your description. “No dice.”

“Great.” You slump down in the seat. “Now what?” Jason thinks it over. “You’re the professional,” you remind him.

Sure he is. “We stake it out for another week and a half, maybe two,” Jason decides, “then move onto the next address.”

Here, he holds his breath. It won’t take more than one week to sniff out this apartment. This, he knows. He could also stake it out alone. This, he knows.

You cluck your tongue. “Okay, if you think it’s the right move.”

This should reassure him, but it sets him even more on edge. Ugh. It feels like stealing, all he’s getting away with, all he’s getting out of you. Should he feel guilty?

“Do you have time to stake it out every night this week, then?” You turn to him; eyes hopeful but guarded. The only thing he can do is melt.

“Yeah, I’ve got time.” Not really, but he’ll make it work.

“Cool.” You flash him a small smile, one he’s never seen before. He has no idea what to do with it.

You flick your eyes to your watch. “I gotta go in an hour,” you say apologetically. “That okay?”

“Of course,” he says automatically. “I’ll give you a ride back.”

You give him that same smile again. It explodes across his chest.

Satisfied, you turn back to the apartment complex. Jason swallows, fingers twitching. Confusion and guilt swirl across his brain. He agonizes for the next hour and a half, until you’ve called it for the night and he’s driven you home.

Until you’re standing outside the driver’s side window, rapping on it to get his attention.

“Hey. Hey.” You raise your eyes meaningfully as he starts, then rolls the window down. “You okay in there?”

His laugh is a bit weak, but the modulator covers for him. “‘Course I am.”

“Okay. Well. Thanks for the help. Same time tomorrow?” You give him another smile he’s never seen before; wry, almost teasing.

He nods, watching you until you disappear inside your building. Two smiles he’s never seen before, both directed at him. The guilt is long gone. The only thing Jason is thinking about is how to get you to give him another.

#teeth writes #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood imagine #jason todd imagine #dc imagine #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x y/n

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r0tting-rat · 9 months ago

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DCA PROMPTOBER 2024

I might have decided to join last minute (I say after finishing crying my eyes out) cuz I'm very brave and confident (I'm not.) I know it's late for day 1 but pls gimme a break :<

Day 1 - Best Friend!

Pairing: Sun & Gender Neutral Reader, can be seen as both platonic and romantic! Warnings: None Words: 1900+ Summary: It's a special day, and you're in for a treat!

Like many other days, you couldn’t understand Sun’s enthusiasm. The daycare attendant had scooped you up the moment you stepped foot in the daycare with your cleaning cart—as you always did every night before closing—then hugged you so tightly you feared for your ribs. As usual, he began to ask you questions about your day, asking if you had eaten anything new or if you had any new pics of your pet to show him, but he completely threw you off guard when he proceeded to beg you to put on a blindfold and follow him out of the daycare, which you refused with a decisive shake of the head.

-Nuh-uh,- you replied.

-What do you mean “nuh-uh”?!- Sun crumbled to the floor, on his knees, with his hands joined together in prayer and his big, milky eyes staring at you in despair.

-I mean nuh-uh! I’m not coming with you, not yet at least.- You waved your cleaning rug in front of his face, pretending to wash dirt off his flat head. -I have a job to do! Remember?-

Your “job” consisted of slipping inside the pizzaplex after everyone had left, cleaning off all the gunk children and adults alike left on tables and inside the attractions, then slipping back out before closing time. Very simple, very stressful and equally tiring. You were one of many, your assigned areas were the Daycare and Monty Golf, but the former always took you more time to clean despite having less work to do. The reason behind that? The animatronic before you. You had befriended the daycare attendant, a few weeks before, mainly because you pitied him. Always so lonely, left with nothing to do, with no children to care for and no friends to play with. You didn’t regret becoming his friend, not at all, but it was true that you always spent much more time with the robot than you should have. “Do not talk with the animatronics” was kinda company policy.

Okay, fine, maybe it wasn’t, but your employment contract did say to not stand too close to the robots and interact with them as little as possible, so you were breaking the rules just the tiniest bit, by letting Sun pick you up, hug you, spin you around and etcetera.

Letting yourself be blindfolded and dragged around was way too much though.

-Friend, please! All you actually have to clean is the security desk!- Sun protested, pouting like a child. He was right. The sunny jester was a bit of a cleaning freak, so he always did all the work for you by scrubbing and tidying the entire play area by the time it took you to finish with Monty Golf, leaving you to clean just the area he didn’t have access to.

You crossed your arms over your chest, indecisive. You didn’t want to be blindfolded, at all, and not because you didn’t trust Sun, the idea of it simply made your skin itch.

…Shit, but he looked so sad! Oh, curse you and your kind heart! With a sigh, you relented, finally giving the jester a small nod.

-Okay, I’ll come with you,- you agreed, and Sun literally jumped in the air, as bright as his namesake.

-Yes!- he shouted, ecstatic.

-But,- you were quick to interrupt him, -You let me clean the desk first. Deal?-

You offered Sun one of your hands, which he shook with so much passion your entire body trembled. All the while, a wide grin had opened on his flat, yellow face.

-I can’t wait to show you my surprise!- he smiled.

You did the best you could to clean efficiently the security desk of the daycare, cleaning coffee stains, peeling away dried pieces of Chica’s Special & Super Elastic Bubble Gum from under the desk and chairs, throwing away pieces of papers and emptying bins, but to your big surprise you found yourself hurrying to get it done. Were you doing that because you were actually kind of curious of what Sun’s surprise could be, or because you wanted to go home as soon as possible? Maybe both, maybe neither. Who could say? Anyway, you finished with your job faster than usual, satisfied, but the moment you turned around all the color drained from your face.

Sun had twisted himself in some kind of pretzel-like knot, tangling his limbs and lanky body together to create something which reminded you of a horrifying piece of modern art, but as soon as he noticed you looking at him Sun untwisted himself, returning to his usual height and shape.

-All done, Friend?- he asked, excitedly, as you struggled to get your heart to start beating again. It wasn’t the first time Sun had done something like that, the animatronic liked to get into weird positions when he felt bored, but each time you caught him like that your heart froze. Sun was a very, very, pricey robot and you were constantly scared of management putting you at fault if something were to ever happen to him. Also, you were his friend, and you couldn’t let something bad happen to someone who was so precious—did I mention pricey?—to you.

-Uh, yes, all done,- you nodded, shaking your head to get rid of the bad thoughts, -We can proceed with the… Do you really have to blindfold me?-

At your question Sun nodded eagerly, stepping close as he took a red ribbon out of his pocket. You sighed but didn’t fight him as he began to place the ribbon over your eyes, making sure it was not too tight but tied firmly enough to not allow you to peek. Once he was done, you heard Sun giggle in delight, looking at his magnificent job.

-Wait,- you heard him say, -Something is missing!-

Before you could protest you heard the animatronic scurry off, leaving you in the dark with no reference points, confused and a little scared. You attempted to take a step forward but were quickly stopped by Sun immediately coming back.

-Here!- he announced, grabbing one of your hands and turning your palm up, so you could hold something that resembled a box for him. You gently shook it and heard many small, plastic things moving inside of it.

-Are those…?- you began to ask, even more perplexed than before.

-Yep!- Sun replied, carefully attaching something to your blindfold, one over each of your eyes. -Googly eyes!-

You wanted to collapse on the floor and stay there, becoming one with the colorful mats of the daycare, but instead you groaned and stood still, allowing the robot to have his fun.

-Can we just go? I don’t have all day, Sun,- you protested, and finally the jester put the little box away, grabbed one of your hands and began to lead you to the large wooden doors of the daycare, walking slowly and carefully.

-We’re gonna have so much fun, Friend,- Sun said, gleefully. You could almost see his beaming smile, ever the bright, despite the blindfold over your eyes. -I’ve made sure everything is simply perfect!-

Despite how tired you were of Sun’s constant cheerfulness, you couldn’t say he didn’t have any effect on you. In fact, you had been smiling a lot more during the last few days. even your coworkers had noticed your good mood. Just staying with Sun was enough to make you smile and laugh, his presence was good for your mental and physical health. In fact, the robot had been taking care of you whenever he noticed that you hadn’t eaten yet, and for some reason he always knew. You were beginning to think he could read your biometrics data.

You didn’t walk for too much time, in fact you could almost guess where you were headed, which was probably one of the party rooms around the daycare. You decided to stay silent, just to see what Sun would do, and giggled when you felt the hand you were holding begin to vibrate in excitement. Having a robot for a friend was truly fun, sometimes.

-Almost there, Friend!- Sun told you as he began to open one of the doors to the rooms, careful to turn on the lights before entering—why did he always do that, anyway? Sun always refused to tell you where his fear of the dark came from, but seeing how uncomfortable the topic made him you had long stopped asking him about it. -Here, sit.-

He guided you to a chair, where you gratefully sat, still obediently keeping your googly eyes-adorned blindfold on. You were eager to see the surprise Sun had planned for you, but something told you not to even try to peek. You felt like it would have made the robot rather mad.

Sun moved something on the table in front of you, mumbling by himself, then stood back. You heard his steps coming to a stop behind your chair, then felt his hands resting on your shoulders. The cold touch of his metal body made you shiver.

-You can look now, Friend,- Sun whispered in your ear, lacking the previous joy and sounding more… sly?

Excited to see, you quickly took off the blindfold and blinked, trying to readjust to the lights inside the room, and only after a few moments of total confusion you managed to see something. Before you, on the table, was a plate, and on the plate was a huge cupcake of your favorite flavor. You would have recognized those sweet treats everywhere, they were from the Cupcake Shoppe, on the second floor of the pizzaplex. Many times you had passed the area, looking with envy at the baked sweets being sold there, and even more times you had complained to Sun about the bakery not being on the list of places where you could eat your daily free meal, as per your employment contract. When he had asked you why you didn’t just go and buy one, if you really wanted to, you had laughed.

“-Come on, as good as they look, they are not worth the price.-” You had told him. Yet there it was, the motherfucking cupcake you had been ogling at for the last weeks, right in front of you, with a little candle stuck on top.

-I would have lit the candle, if my programming didn’t forbid me from handling matches and lighters,- laughed Sun from behind you. Honestly, you didn’t care one bit about the candle, you were just staring at the sweet treat in front of you, dumbfounded.

-Wh… Why…? How… I…- You couldn’t speak normally anymore, your vocabulary consisted of single muttered words and syllables.

-Guess what day it is, Friend,- cooed Sun in your ear. You tried to think, but doing so was hard, so you ended up just shaking your head, speechless. At your cluelessness, Sun laughed.

-On this day, exactly one month ago, we became friends!- he explained to you, and as he bent over his smiling face entered your field of vision. He looked absolutely gleeful. -Do you remember now?-

Your wide eyes ran from his milky ones to the cupcake in front of you, from the big grin of the robot to the unlit candle, which was slowly slipping down thanks to the melting frosting. One month. You had been friends with Sun for just a month, but for some reason it felt like so much more, like, much, much more. Sun’s hands, which had been resting on your shoulders the entire time, squeezed you gently, and they felt oddly warm against your skin. You looked at the daycare attendant and couldn’t stop a smile from forming on your lips.

-Happy one month anniversary, Best friend,- he said, and you nodded.

-Happy anniversary to you too, Sun.-

#SO NERVOUS #okay I hope you enjoyed this was much longer than i first anticipated #im pretty happy about how it turned out tho #fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf sb #fnaf fanfic #fnaf drabble #dcatober24 #fnaf dca #dca fandom #sun x reader #sun x y/n #will probably cross-post it on ao3 #rat's drabbles

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