✿ @yukimaniac - Tumblr Blog

Title: school harassment

Chapter: oneshot

Fandom: heated rivalry

Pairing: Hollanov

Genre: fluff

Warnings: male reader, child reader, fluff, reader faces harassment at school, crush turned creepy towards reader, consent issues, bullying mentioned, swearing, papa bears Ilya and Shane, good dad's hollanov

Notes:

Summary: (name) was a chill kid, despite not being biologically related to his dad's he took after them personality wise to a T so when telling the teachers doesn't work, he goes to his parents... Only for them to get called in when he yells at his stalker to fuck off.

Tag list: @polluxhasrisen @lazyanimal-things @ilocuras24 @rainglitchblonde

“Papa” (name) wandered to Ilya who was scrolling on his phone “hm, what is it?” He stopped looking at his phone and gave his son his direct attention and (name) signed “how do you deal with girls who won't leave you alone?” He asked and Ilya seemed very invested, his ten year old son seemed less shy and first love and more put off “you have admirer?” He asked and (name) grimaced.

checkeredflagggs

Bad Luck No More

pairing: charles leclerc x ex wag!reader

summary: after being dumped for “being bad luck”, you don’t expect that drowning your sorrows will lead to getting married with a fellow heartbroken soul

a/n: Surprise! I am still working on my Vegas fics! It’s just…there’s only so many ways you can get accidentally married in Vegas and I’d like to make them all unique

a/n2: this is set in the 2024/2025 seasons

Masterlist

liked by lando, carmenmmundt, oscarpiastri, and 2,111,445 others

tagged: lando

yn: 4 years with the best man I know 🧡🧡 here's to many many more, my love 😘

view all comments

user1: I love them so much

↳user2: couple goals for real

↳user1: exactly!

oscarpiastri: congratulations on four years!

↳yn: thanks osc!!

user3: I love how lowkey they are?

↳user4: seriously the best thing a famous couple could be is quietly in love

↳user5: yes!

↳user3: *side eyes certain couples* I completely agree

lando: 🧡🧡

↳yn: 💋💋

user6: …ok is it just me or was that very…underwhelming?

↳user7: no seriously??? She posted so many nice pictures and wrote poetry about him today and the most he's commented is 2 hearts???

user8: all men do is disappoint, honestly

user9: has anyone else seen ln4fans post?

↳user10: …how dare they??? yn has been by lando's side for YEARS…

withloveiriss

The Art of Loving

ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌! ᯓᡣ𐭩 oscar piastri x writer!reader ᯓᡣ𐭩 arranged marriage, eldest daughter x eldest son

ᝰ.ᐟ After a controversy threatens the reputation of Oscar Piastri, a carefully staged marriage to a sponsor’s daughter is meant to restore his image, nothing more than a strategic fix in the high-stakes world of Formula One, but as their perfectly crafted relationship begins to feel all too real behind closed doors, the line between performance and genuine love starts to blur, and they’re forced to confront whether what they have was ever just for show.

⓪ PROLOGUE

① NICE TO EACH OTHER

② SO EASY (TO FALL IN LOVE)

③ I'VE SEEN IT

④ A COUPLE MINUTES

⑤ SOMETHING IN BETWEEN

⑥ MAN I NEED

⓪ EPILOGUE

©️ 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒔

boxbox81babygirl

Let the Light in | OP81 x YOU

After seven years with Lily, Oscar isn’t sure he’s ready to try again. It’s left him cautious, careful, and more afraid to open up than he ever thought—or would admit. Then one blind date—with you, a burst of light he can’t ignore—makes him question everything he thought he knew about healing.

Can Oscar let the light in, or will lingering hurt and ghostly guilt push him away before it even begins?

1: The Blind Date

2: The Second Date

3: The Days Between

4: Cautious

5: The Third Date

6: Across Time Zones

7: Rollercoaster

8: Home-Cooked

9: Safe Enough

10: Fragile Spaces

11: Texting...

12: Treading Water

13: Limbo

14: Saltwater

15: Privacy

16: It's CANada

17: It's still CANada

18: Lego & Lavender

19: Crossroads

20: Edges of Permancences

21: Rumor Has It

22: Red Heels

23: Not Yet

24: Between the Noise

25: Menances

26: Hattie

27: Green

28: Three More Days

29: Cordially Invited

30: Stay Anyway

31: Gate 3

32: No Cameras Here

33: Spielberg in Papaya

34: Approved (For Now)

35: Suspended In It

36: Past Lives

📝 Prompt me: OPEN

If you’d like to be added to the taglist so you never miss a new part, now’s your chance—just let me know! 🫶

taglist: @teamnovalak @anamiad00msday @engelsmoment @madd1115 @frankiejo04 @aerangi @dakotapaigelove @azldee @dazaisdogsblog @yumarkie @jennibahng @suns3treading @sassyangel16 @alwaysclassyeagle @moons-v @disappointednotsuprised24 @okcurran @esw1012 @okayarkay @sltwins @bhagyashreeghuge @mysteriousduckprincess @kay-bello @vinylphwoar @mclarensnumberone @taetae-armyyyyy @woninabillion04 @cherryhazee @shawnscurlz @csceclairs @daddyrafeslittleslut @theladybiers @piastripastry81 @be4rnellis @princessria127 @phosphen3-s @wiggly-yrath @artyyjia @chloclo @nilletellsstories @sunshinevansh @cherryniyaah @lora21 @marinasblogs-posts @blablabla2242 @dustyinkpages @applejackrootbeerhollis @pharmasennapuff @astrrlily @melissa66orion @dutchlionforev @gold66loveblog @bruhitsmoose @iceceweam9 @whistlef0rthechoir @omniandscared @vintageroses10 @eclipsiieevsx @br1adna @lagrandeourse @xyrillekl @sen-nes @fasterthanyous @noope306 @llicsa @liv1209 @houseoftwistedspirits @girlypoop123 @martzensvault @thefalseapp @dead-boys-stuff @itzrachel04 @hannahbananababybanana @katlyric @icewing22 @bia-n-t-d @melanie-15 @eugene-emt-roe @kakorrhaphiphobia @rubyybabyy

Collection of ideas/your input 🧠✨️

Also!! Please!! Feel free to slide into my inbox or scream in the comments with ideas, wishes, or unhinged thoughts about what should happen next. I will be reading. I will be influenced. 😌🤍

xoxo babygirl

darling-flora

angel on the walls of versailles

oscar piastri x yn!singer | request — here | masterlist |

"One night I was bored in bed, And stalked you on the internet" in which a popstar's crush on a f1 driver turns into a front page story...

note — (all manips made by me!!) i love this fic soooooo much, like it's very dear me.... hope you all enjoy it (not proofread ignore any mistakes) <3 !! likes, reblog's and comments are really appreciated ❤

gcldie

Snippets of a married life - Damian Al Ghul

The breeze is warm against your cheek as you face the open door leading towards the pool, the water peaceful and untouched.

Your towel hangs over the crook of your arm, soft to the touch.

The weather is perfect, warm enough to allow for the hope for a beautiful day and yet still cool enough to remind you that the sun has yet to reach its peak in the sky.

The sound of your footsteps against the tiles are barely noticeable in the soft breeze, as you waddle over to the edge of the pool.

Pulling your towel open and draping it across the floor, you free yourself from the confines of your linen shorts and shirt.

You adjust the bra of your swimsuit over your chest, slippers falling off your feet and landing next to your towel on the floor.

The water is chilly against your skin, goosebumps poking their heads out before your body adjusts to the temperature.

It takes a few steps before you’re fully submerged in the water, hair fanning out across the surface.

It’s quiet beneath the surface, more so than above it.

Your arms move into a familiar position, legs kicking softly in the water, swimming towards the edge of the pool.

When your fingers graze the glass separating the body of water from the edge of the cliff, your head resurfaces, droplets running down your lashes onto your lips and chin.

Your palms slide across your face, wiping the what water remains from your eyes and sliding into your hairline.

Before you, the beautiful mountains of Damian’s home stretch across the horizon, the tips still covered in snow, even in early June.

Your arms lay over the glass, chin resting on your damp skin as you try to imagine growing up here.

You know, from late night admissions and the soft murmurs of his past in early mornings that Damian’s life was full of scar-worthy training and heavy expectations.

The irony of the comparison between the heavenly views and the suffering he went through in this very home is not lost on you.

You imagine the sound of a much younger Damian’s feet, fat and slippery, slapping against these very same tiles, his mother’s soft laughter following him as his body meets the water. He told you once that this was his best memory, when he was too young to face his grandfather’s brutal expectations, when his full cheeks were a sign of health rather than lack of training.

Your heart breaks as you imagine the boy who once looked at these views and saw more than just beauty and tranquility, the boy whose childhood memories are haunted by the desperate need for approval his grandfather rarely gave.

You’re lost in thought so you don’t notice Damian’s quiet footsteps over the tiles, nor do you notice as he sheds his outer layers, stripping himself down to his shorts before sliding quietly into the water, as if being welcomed by his domain.

His hands are soft as they wrap around your waist but you cannot help flinching at the unexpected disturbance.

“Did I scare you?” His voice is deep and quiet, barely above a whisper, against your ear.

“Only a little.” You chuckle, turning your head back towards him to place a soft kiss against his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Beloved.” His lips shape around the words against your skin and you cannot help but think back to the boy who could barely bring himself to admit he was wrong, let alone apologise, all those years ago.

“You were gone when I woke up.”

“League business.” His head turns towards your neck, lips ghosting over the muscles of your throat.

“Anything serious?” You hum out, lost to the softness of his mouth.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” His nose nudges your jaw. “What were you thinking about just now?”

You smile softly, a quiet chuckle escaping your lips.

“You, fat and young, running around this house.”

His scoff holds no real heat, as his brows furrow, a look of mock offence taking over his lovely features.

“I was not fat.” His protest is weak, even to his own ears.

“I’ve seen those baby pictures, Dami, you looked like a big roll of dough.”

Now his offence seems genuine, an annoyed scowl taking over his face as you laugh at him.

“I still cannot believe you convinced my mother to show you those albums.”

“I didn’t have to do much convincing, my love, she was happy to offer all the blackmail material!”

Your laugh is delightful, blending with the quiet chirping of the birds.

“Your alliance against me is horror inspiring.” He laughs softly against your damp skin. “But I am glad she has taken a liking to you.” You hum and he carries on after a moment of silence. “Even if that means she keeps stealing your attention from me.”

Your smile is bright as you turn in his arms, your own wrapping around his neck.

“Don’t be jealous, even if it is a good colour on you.” You lean in, lips meeting his softly and he all but melts into your embrace, arms tightening around your back. “My attention is always on you.” You say between kisses, smiling again when his teeth roll your lower lip between them in appreciation.

“I am glad to know that.” He says, guiding your back against the glass as his hands wrap around your thighs, hoisting them against his waist. “I plan to make full use of it.”

Your laugh rings loudly as his head dips back where your neck meets your shoulder.

—

The french toast is soft and sweet, drizzled in honey, the fresh strawberry crunching beneath the pressure of your teeth as you chew happily.

Damian sits next to you, his plate decorated in blueberries and kiwi, the toast growing soggy the longer it remains untouched.

Damian’s nose is buried in a newspaper, the large pages crinkling slightly beneath his soft grip.

“Your breakfast is getting cold, my love.” You say, placing your hand over his, lowering one side of the newspaper.

His questioning gaze meets yours as you raise an eyebrow, eyes flickering down to his untouched plate, the very one he spent fifteen minutes perfecting.

Damian’s sigh is soft as he folds the magazine and places it on the table, his now free hand reaching for the tea set next to his bowl of yogurt.

“It’s cold.” He says, wincing at the now stale taste, placing the teacup back on the plate as you chuckle under your breath.

“I want to go into town today.” You say after a moment of silence.

Damian raises an eyebrow in your direction, mouth chewing softly on the bread.

“There’s a new book shop and I want to buy some new vinyls too.” He hums, nodding. “You can come with, if you’re free.”

Damian sighs softly, waiting until he’s swallowed, washing the toast down with a sip of your orange juice, before nodding again.

“Sure, Habibti. I can come.” Your smile is radiant, reaching for the jug to fill your cup again. “Do you also want to go into the market?”

You hum in approval.

“The apricots were delicious last time. I was thinking of making the jam again. I can bake the cake too if we pick up some flour on the way back.”

“Sounds like a plan.” His grin is soft as he leans towards you, placing his sticky lips against your cheek.

“Your lips are covered in honey.” You tease, pinching his cheek.

“You are imagining things.” He claims, grabbing your orange juice again.

“You know you can pour your own, yes?”

“Yours always tastes sweeter.” You chuckle, taking your cup out of his hold and placing it by your plate again.

The silence that follows is comfortable.

The sun shines into the room through the open doors, the curtains swaying softly in the breeze.

Moments like these are rare, with how hectic both of your lives are.

The bustling cities and unending expectations seem so far away now, tucked away from the world in your husband’s childhood home.

You smile to yourself, watching as Damian’s fork stabs lightly through the kiwi, cringing when the sour taste erupts in his mouth.

“I got a new yoga instructor.” You say, reaching for your juice.

“What was wrong with the last one?”

“I don’t know, but your mother suggested I get a new one.”

He sighs, fighting a smile.

“You know, you don’t have to take every advice she gives you, Beloved.”

“I know.” You protest weakly, watching his arm flex as he reaches for his chai. “Besides, apparently she’s going to open me all the way up, so I can finally get pregnant.”

Damian all but chokes on his drink, doubling over himself as he coughs up the liquid that is no doubt sliding down his wind pipe.

“What?” He rasps out, in between coughs.

“Yeah, your mother’s really hell-bent on me getting pregnant soon.” You say sweetly, running soothing circles over his back.

You try your best not to burst out laughing when he turns his bewildered expression back to you.

“We are not even twenty-six, yet. What does she want?” His tone is so alarmed you can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“Grandchildren.” You laugh at his horrified expression again. “She’s not the only one.” He looks at you, confused. “Bruce brought it up the last time we were over for dinner.”

“For God’s sake.” He mutters, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not getting any younger, I’d like to bounce a grandchild or two on my knee.” You deepen your voice, trying to sound like your father-in-law.

Damian flushes a scarlet so deep it’s visible even under his heavy tan.

“He’s not even that old.” He grumbles and you can see him try to physically slap his blush away, hand falling softly on the back of his neck.

“He seems to disagree.” You chuckle, popping another strawberry in your mouth, trying to ignore Damian’s stare.

He opens his mouth, looking for something to say, but you beat him to it.

“Not yet, Dami.” Your eyes slide over to his face, meeting his gaze. “But soon.”

You try not to laugh as he fights the smile stretching across his full lips, lips that are on you before you can even register that he’s moved from his seat.

“Soon, then.” His voice is so so soft, you try not to melt under his loving gaze, emerald eyes tracing the soft curve of your cheek.

—

The summer sun is hot, even in your thin clothing, but the heaviness of Damian’s hand in yours is comforting, as he carries the books and records you kept handing to him until they almost dropped from his grip, in his other hand.

The umbrellas over the vendor stands do little to ease the scorching sun, but you don’t complain.

When you spot the familiar stall, you pull Damian with you as you make a beeline for it.

The man stood over the fruit with an iced bottle of water you’d kill for, smiles as he recognises your faces.

Your hand slips from Damian’s as you grab the plastic bag hanging from the nail hammered on one of the fruit boxes.

The apricots are ripe under your touch, their gooey softness mashing against one another as they fall into the pink plastic bag.

You hear Damian converse with the vendor as you move from apricots to strawberries to kiwis to big pink tomatoes that always remind you of home.

Moving from one end of the stall to the other, you spot a box of watermelons sitting a little lower than the rest of the fruit.

The skin of it is smooth under your palm as you gently hit the watermelon, checking for the sound.

Damian appears behind your back, repeating your motion until the two of you find one you both like.

Damian grabs another plastic bag, this one bigger than all the rest, waiting for the vendor to weigh your watermelon.

You hand the older man a canary melon to weigh when he slips the watermelon into the awaiting bag.

Before you know it, the two of you are making your way back to the car, while you munch on an unpeeled cucumber to help cool you down.

Your head is hot under your cap when you finally take it off.

Your hand reaches for the AC when Damian starts the engine and the cool air is a welcome relief from the stifling heat outside.

“Did we get everything we needed, Beloved?” Damian looks over at your nodding head before turning the gear and starting to drive.

“It gets so hot here.” You say, slipping your sunglasses off your face.

“Still not used to it after all these years?” He teases, hand resting on your thigh.

“I’m not sure I could ever get used to this heat.” Your hand rests atop his, fingers drawing soft circles on his scarred knuckles.

“We should go to the beach tomorrow.” Damian says, turning at the roundabout.

You smile, imagining the sound of the waves splashing against the sand and the smell of the salt in the air.

“Sounds like a plan.” Your voice is almost a whisper, as your free hand reaches for the radio, the familiar tunes filling the car.

The drive up to the house is quiet, safe for the music at a low volume.

Damian looks over at your figure and smiles when he sees you dozing off, head resting against the window.

His hand is still on your thigh and your hand is still on his, where you were playing with his fingers before falling asleep.

When he drives past the gates and shifts the car into Park, Damian’s thumb traces over the soft skin of your thigh before slipping carefully from under your grip.

Damian carries the produce, along with your books and vinyls, into the house, which is quiet besides the soft breeze created by the open windows and the front door.

He slips back into his seat, moving your sleeping head away from the window, resting it against the headrest, unclicking your seatbelt.

When he reaches for you from the now open door of your side, your head falls against his chest, eyes blinking open lazily as he picks you up and closes the car door behind him with the kick of his foot.

“Thanks.” You mumble into his chest and you can feel the low chuckle against your cheek from deep within him.

You settle into him, expecting a long walk up to your room when he places you down softly against the sofa.

Your eyes flutter open and you see Damian reaching for the new vinyls, picking the cover he most fondly remembers from his childhood and placing it under the needle of the turntable.

A soft voice fills the sunroom, the flowers above you saving you from the hot light of the sun.

When you turn your attention back to him, Damian is walking out of the room, only to walk back in soon after with two plates a bowl of washed fruit.

The china is placed on the low wood table and Damian slips under your legs, placing them on his lap before he starts peeling the peaches and the apples that glisten red under the sunlight.

You watch him with half-lidded eyes, waiting for him as he cuts the fruit into the thin slices that remind you of your mother’s sweet kiss against your cheek in the summer.

When he’s done, he taps your leg, motioning you to sit up.

You sink into his side when you do and he hands you a plate of fruit.

“Eat the apple first.” He commands softly, placing a kiss against your hairline.

The apple crunches under your teeth and decide that you’d rather eat the peaches.

The sticky juice of it runs down your chin and Damian wipes it away with his thumb, bringing it to his lips to lick away the moisture.

“It’s sweet.” He comments and you nod, sinking into him further.

He chuckles quietly and takes the plate from your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he feeds you a slice.

And all you can do is look up at him with stars in your eyes and imagine this house, filled with so many happy memories that have overridden the bad ones, full of childish laughter and wonder.

And you think his parents may be right, maybe it is time to bring a new addition to the family.

AHHHH I WANNA SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH HIM FEEDING ME PEELED PEACHES 💔💔💔

pocketss

Ummm she's literally sensitive :/

f1hazexoxo

are you mine? - charles leclerc

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. You filming a tiktok suddenly gets you famous, for all the wrong reasons. genre: fluff pairing: f!reader x (secret)bf!charles warnings: - word count: 1k .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. You have been dating charles secretly for quite some time now, 7 months to be exact. You haven't been to any of his races due to your busy schedule, so it was even easier for you to stay hidden. You privated your instagram immediately after you got together, and to your surprise fans didn't notice him suddenly following a random instagram account with only 300 followers.

However, your tiktok stayed public, as you haven't really got any views and you barely recorded videos anyway. You wanted to stay unknown as you weren't ready for all the media and all the people to swarm you, to hate on you, to be obsessed with you, it was just too much.

Today was one day where you actually decided to post, hitting the record button with you showing off your new beautiful dress and outfit after a night out, spinning around in it. However, there was one little twist. You recorded it in the bedroom while Charles was getting ready for bed in the back, his torso and slightly messy brown hair visible in the corner of the video.

You didn't notice it at all, and hit post, not checking the video twice to see if there was anything wrong with it. And damn, that was your biggest mistake in a while.

"You ready to sleep amour?" Charles asked as he tucked himself in bed, waiting for you with open arms.

"Yeah just a sec!" You said as you quickly got unready, switching into your comfy PJs and jumping next to him in bed, putting your phone on silent.

"Goodnight baby" he said as he kissed your forehead, hugging you while drifting off to sleep.

"Goodnight Charles" you said with a sleepy smile, and closed your eyes.

The morning sun shined through the big curtains and you slowly opened your eyes. Charles was still asleep, his hair messy, mouth slightly open, damn he was gorgeous. It was quite the sight to wake up to everytime you slept together.

You picked up your phone, looking at the time. You knew you couldn't fall asleep back, so you swiped up, as you slowly opened your mouth in shock.

"99+ notifications from tiktok"

What could have possibly happened? Your first tought was that maybe your video has just gone viral, which was not exactly bad, but you never really got more than 50 likes, so it was still unusual.

As you decided to click on the notification, your heart dropped to your chest, your phone opening up the comments of the video immediately.

user 1: who is that in the back? doesn't that look like leclerc? user 2: you're gorgeous wow user 3: yall call me crazy but that guys torso in the back looks awfully a lot like charles's user 4: guys stop speculating things you can't even see the guys face ⤷user 5: yeah but his hair looks EXACTLY like leclercs its so weird user 6: oh so thats why he didn't answer anything about his relationships to media okay!

You panicked, seeing your tiktok DM's flooding already with questions, and your instagram requests suddenly being packed aswell, not staying so anonymous as Charles was following you here.

As if on cue, your phone just buzzed, your best friend sending you a picture. Terrified, you still decided to open it, as your panic just grew more:

You didn't know what to do, like seriously. Should you just delete the video and act like nothing happened? But that's impossible now, a lot of people saw it. Should you just delete yourself from everywhere? That would just raise more suspicion.

As much as you didn't want to, you kept checking the comments everywhere, the hate ones getting to you the most:

user1: she wants that BAGGG user2: She aint allat user3: Charles can do better ngl user4: watch her leave when she gets famous enough

As you kept anxiously reading, you heard a sleepy Charles's voice:

"Good morning beautiful, you okay?"

He could sense that something was off, by your shaky hands and glossy eyes checking your phone, not even daring to look at him.

He leaned over and he read some of the comments along with you, his hands immediately taking your phone away, inspecting it.

"How the hell-"

"I messed up Charles" you said as you buried your face in your hands, sobbing. "You were slightly visible in the video I posted yesterday and it went viral, they figured it out and-"

"Shh"

He said as he put his arms around you, pulling you in a comforting hug.

"So what? Atleast you don't have to hide now"

"But you know I don't like having all this attention on me" you said, completely dumbfounded in what you should do next.

He pulled away from the hug as he cupped your cheek in his hands, and slowly kissed you, easing all the tension that built up in you.

"You know what you should do baby? Just ignore them. Act like nothing happened, that will annoy them the most. And when you feel ready, we can tell them."

It actually sounded like the most logical thing to do, as you really wanted to go to his home race to support him in a few days.

"But now they will be all around me in the Monaco GP won't they?"

"I'll send all the media away, just tell me what you wan't me to do mon amour, I'll do it immediately" he said as he started rubbing small circles on your back, still trying to comfort you as much as he can.

"And if any pictures get out, atleast they will know you're mine now" he smiled as he pulled you in tight hug again.

And just like that, you calmed down in his arms, suddenly feeling like it's not even a big deal after all.

"Maybe that was the universe's sign to tell everyone else" you said as you smiled, for the first time this morning.

"Je t'aime" he said as he wiped your tears away, you melting in his touch, and cuddling for a few more hours in the bed. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

fancy-possum

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 - 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

The argument started the way they always did.

Small. Stupid. Jason shutting down the second things got too real.

You’d asked him - gently - why he’d disappeared for three days after a rough patrol. No text. No call. Just radio silence while you sat in your apartment worrying yourself sick.

“I was handling it,” he’d said, voice flat, arms crossed like he was bracing for impact. “You don’t need to know every detail of my shit.”

“I’m not asking for every detail,” you’d replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m asking you to let me in. I’m your girlfriend, Jason. Not some civilian you have to protect from the truth.”

He’d laughed - short, bitter. “Yeah? Well maybe I don’t want you in. Maybe I don’t want you seeing the parts of me that are still fucked up from the grave.”

The words had landed like punches. You’d stood there, chest tight, and said the thing you’d been thinking for weeks.

“Maybe we need a break.”

Not a breakup.

A break.

Time. Space. Air.

Jason had gone very still. “What?”

“Just… a break,” you’d said, voice cracking. “Not forever. I just need to breathe, Jason. And you need to figure out if you even want me in your life or if I’m just another person you’re protecting from yourself.”

He hadn’t argued. Hadn’t fought. He’d just nodded once, jaw tight, and left.

That was nine days ago.

cressidagrey

Correlation Error - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Charlotte Fischer (Original Character)

Summary: Charlotte Fischer has spent years making sure no one in Formula One knows who she really is.

At Red Bull, she is simply Charlotte: Cambridge graduate, simulator engineer, owner of a deeply judgmental cat, and the woman responsible for making the team’s broken 2025 car model finally tell the truth.

She prefers it that way. No family name. No questions. No one looking at her like she is someone’s daughter, someone’s mistake, or someone’s failure to protect.

Max Verstappen notices her anyway.

Warnings and Notes: I wrote fanfiction of my own fanfiction. This is the result.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble.

simplyastra

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐭

SUMMARY: Theodore Nott thought surviving Dueling Club would be the hardest part of his week. Turns out, surviving his angry girlfriend was significantly worse.

Based off of this request. @red--roses hope you like it<3

You were furious.

It wasn’t the fact that Theodore had gotten hurt in Dueling Club. It was the fact that you had to hear it from Lavender Brown — three days later — that he’d taken a nasty curse to the ribs and had been walking around like nothing happened.

So when he finally found you in your room that evening, you didn’t even let him speak first.

“You got hurt,” you said flatly, arms crossed. “And you didn’t tell me.”

Theo sighed, running a hand through his messy brown hair. “It wasn’t serious. I handled it.”

“That’s not the point, Theodore.” You used his full name like a weapon.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“I’m your girlfriend. You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle. You don’t get to keep me in the dark ‘for my own good.’”

“I was protecting you,” he said quietly, jaw tight. “You already worry enough.”

“I’m not a child,” you snapped. “If you can’t trust me with the truth, then what are we even doing?”

The argument ended in a tense stalemate. Theo tried to reach for you, but you stepped back and left him standing there.

And that’s when you decided on petty terrorism.

The next evening, the entire friend group was gathered in the Slytherin common room for a casual dinner.

You sat right next to Theo like nothing was wrong — except everything was wrong, and you were making sure he felt it.

You picked up a piece of spaghetti with your fork, looked him dead in the eyes, and cut it cleanly in half.

Mattheo choked on his drink.

Theo’s eyes flicked to the broken pasta, then back to your face. He said nothing.

Pansy’s eyebrows shot up. Daphne pressed her lips together, trying not to smile.

Later, when Theo reached for the salt, you moved it just out of his reach.

When he gave you a look, you smiled sweetly.

“Communication is so important in relationships, don’t you think, Pansy?” you asked.

Pansy nearly lost it. “Oh my god.”

Enzo was grinning like an idiot. Blaise leaned back in his chair, thoroughly entertained. Even Draco looked amused.

Theo's jaw ticked. You weren't done.

When Mattheo asked Theo something about Quidditch practice, you turned to Mattheo with an innocent expression.

“Do you actually listen when people talk to you, Mattheo? Or do you also decide what people can and can’t handle?”

Mattheo laughed, raising his hands slightly. “I’m not getting involved in this.”

Theo finally spoke, voice low.

“Can we talk?”

You blinked at him, feigning innocence. “About what, Theodore?”

Blaise muttered under his breath, “She’s evil. I respect it.”

Later that night, you “accidentally” moved Theo’s bookmark three chapters forward in the book he was reading.

When he noticed, he gave you a long, tired look.

You just smiled and went back to your own book.

The group was losing their minds in the background.

“Ten galleons says she wins,” Enzo whispered.

“I’m not betting against her,” Pansy replied. “She’s unhinged right now.”

Theo eventually cornered you near the fireplace when most people had gone to bed.

He looked exhausted.

“Are you done?” he asked.

You crossed your arms. “Are you going to stop hiding things from me?”

He stepped closer, voice softening.

“I thought I was protecting you. I hate worrying you. I hate seeing you scared because of me.”

“I’m more scared when I find out from other people that you’re hurt,” you said, voice cracking just a little. “I’m your girlfriend, Theo. Let me be there for you. Even when it’s ugly.”

Theo stared at you for a long moment, then pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I’ll tell you next time. Even if it’s stupid and small.”

You hugged him back, tension finally draining from your shoulders.

“…You’re still Theodore for the rest of the week though,” you mumbled against his chest.

He let out a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling through him.

“Fair enough.”

You smiled into his sweater.

Because no matter what, he was still your Theodore.

I've finally gotten enough motivation to go through my drafts and publish them lol.

latedeparture

heyyy loved your bimbo gf x damian and i was wondering if you could do like an angst story of where she hears like someone in the fam or damian saying something about her personality/her in general, and she pulls back and tries to act “less stupid” IK SORRY I LOVE TJOSE calling their partner clingy and they start pulling away😖😖. all good if u can’t 🙂‍↕️🤚🏽

݁ 𓈒 ཐི 𓉸 𝓡EBRANDING ( 𝓑AD 𝓘DEA ) !!

⏜︵ pairing 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 damian wayne x bimbo!girlfriend

꒰ 🎀 ꒱ synopsis 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 damian trying to figure out why the girl who never stopped talking suddenly won’t even look at him.

njghtiee

the sounds you make!

⋆˚꩜｡ everytime you casually crack your back and shoulders around wayne manor, you trigger damian’s assassin-trained instincts when the sounds resemble those of seasoned vigilantes after combat. damian is convinced you're secretly hiding a double life, so he spirals into an obsessive investigation, analyzing your posture and movements only to finally find out it's because you suffer from scoliosis and chronic pain. f!reader

⋆˚꩜｡request

Damian Wayne had heard bones crack before.

In fact, he’d heard bones crack in more ways than most people could ever stomach. Cass’s quiet, deliberate stretches before patrol, Dick’s relieved sigh after a backflip that landed slightly off center, Jason’s absolutely atrocious habit of popping his knuckles before he fought someone, like he was threatening their existence with his joints alone. Even Bruce, who pretended to be invincible, cracked his neck sometimes after long nights hunched over the Batcomputer.

Damian, therefore, thought he fully understood the range of sounds the human skeleton was capable of producing. Until you walked into the Manor kitchen at 7:14 am on a perfectly mundane day, reached up for a mug on the highest shelf, and unleashed a crack so loud Damian almost dropped his tea.

He snapped his head toward you instantly, eyes wide, alarm bells exploding in his brain. You blinked, hand still hovering mid air, then casually brought the mug down, completely unaware that you’d just triggered Damian Wayne’s fight or flight response. “Morning” you said, still sleepy, rubbing your shoulder. And then, you did it again. A rolling, echoing series of pops down your spine as you twisted slightly left, like bubble wrap being stepped on by God himself.

Damian stood frozen, teacup halfway to his mouth, staring at you like you’d just revealed you were secretly a cyborg. “Are you—what are you doing?” he demanded sharply, tone caught somewhere between horrified and offended on behalf of human anatomy. You yawned. “Cracking my back”

“Cracking your back.” he repeated, as if he needed the words to settle into place before he decided whether to call for medical support or exorcism. You nodded. “Yeah. I have scoliosis and chronic muscle tension pops like crazy” You reached your arm across your chest in a stretch and your shoulder snapped loudly enough that it echoed. Damian flinched, actually flinched. “You’re in pain?” he asked, voice dropping but eyes narrowing like he was analyzing intel. “Sometimes,” you said. “But it’s fine”

It wasn't fine, at least not to Damian. You just didn’t know he had already spiraled into a completely different interpretation of events.

Because Damian Wayne, raised by assassins, surrounded by vigilantes, and genetically predisposed to suspicion, only had one logical conclusion: no civilian cracked like that, no civilian made noises that dramatic unless they’d seen years of combat, injuries, falling off rooftops, he had heard these exact pops from Nightwing after getting thrown through a skylight, he had heard similar ones from Tim after he’d dislocated his shoulder during a pursuit. Civilians did not sound like that before breakfast. Damian hid his reaction poorly, his eyes scanned you the way he scanned suspects: your posture, your breathing, the way you favored your left side slightly, the scars you always brushed off as “old accidents”

You poured your coffee, completely unaware that Damian was now reorganizing his understanding of your entire existence. “I’ll… be in the living roo,” you said, confused by his stare. “Yes.” he replied distractedly, “Carry on.” The second you left the room, Damian immediately abandoned his tea and went straight into investigation mode. Within minutes, he was in the Cave. By ten minutes, he had three separate monitors pulled up. By fifteen, he had a full conspiracy wall equivalent across three screens and twenty tabs. Surveillance footage: analyzing your gait. Medical records: sealed, suspicious. Public background: too clean. Social media presence: minimal. Obviously hiding something.

Bruce happened to walk by and stopped, eyebrow raised. “What exactly are you doing?” Damian didn’t look away from the screen. “I am determining whether she is a vigilante.” Bruce blinked. “She’s not.” “How do you know?” Damian asked without missing a beat. Bruce gave him a flat stare. “Because she told me she wasn’t.”

“That means nothing,” Damian muttered, typing faster. “People lie.” Bruce sighed and left. This was not his battle.

Over the next forty eight hours, Damian Wayne watched you like a hawk. Subtly, of course. Or, what he thought was subtle. “Damian is staring at me again” you whispered to Dick at one point. Dick, unhelpfully, whispered back, “He’s in love” Damian, ten feet away said "I can hear you."

Every sound you made, every stretch, every pop of your spine, Damian catalogued. Every time you reached for something and your ribs made a satisfying crack, he zeroed in like a predator hearing a twig snap. You bent down to tie your shoe, your lower back popped. Damian’s head shot up from across the room. You reached up to adjust your hair, your shoulder clicked loudly. Damian quietly gasped like he had just uncovered a lead. You leaned sideways on the couch, your hip cracked. Damian’s eyes widened, mind racing. He cornered Dick later. “Her joint noises exceed the decibel level of a normal civilian.” “What?” “Her spine sounds like Grayson’s after a four story fall.” “Hey—!” “Therefore,” Damian continued, pacing now, “she either has undergone extensive combat training, has participated in clandestine operations, or she is acquiring injuries not accounted for by her supposed normal civilian lifestyle.” Dick stared. “…or she just has scoliosis?” “No,” Damian dismissed instantly. “You don’t understand. She cracked her sternum earlier.”

“Her what—?” Damian started sketching something on a notepad, some kind of diagram of a human skeleton with little red circles where he had noted your cracks. It was insane, it was unhinged but it was spectacularly Damian.

But the tipping point came when you were lying on the Manor couch, scrolling on your phone, and absently twisted your torso to stretch. The crack that came out of your spine was so loud it echoed through the entire room like a gunshot. Damian dropped the book he was holding. Jason yelled “What the—was that you or the house settling?” Tim peeked over his laptop, concerned. Cass looked impressed. And you just sighed in relief. “Oh thank god, that one was stuck since yesterday.” Damian stared at you like you had just confessed to murder. He approached you slowly, like you were a wild animal or an unstable grenade. “Explain.” he said. Just that. One word. You blinked. “Explain… what?”

“That.” he said, pointing at your spine as if it had personally offended him. “The sounds your body produces. The injuries you are hiding. Your combat background. The truth.” You squinted. “…Damian, I’m not hiding anything”

“You cracked your spine in seventeen places.”

“It’s scoliosis.”

“You cracked your hip.”

“Also scoliosis.”

“Your shoulder dislocates visibly.”

“Chronic pain.”

He stared. Hard. You sighed and sat up slowly. “Damian, I’m not a vigilante” He crossed his arms tightly, jaw set. “Prove it.” You rolled your eyes, set your phone aside, and, because chronic pain people are built different, proceeded to demonstrate the stupidest, most painful, most benign reason for all your dramatic bone noises: stretching your arms up, bending to the side, rotating your spine, and yes, in a truly cinematic series of crunchy snaps, your body produced a full symphony of cracks. Damian actually leaned back in shock, eyes wide. You finished, shrugged, and said casually, “See? Chronic tension. Not secret ninja” Damian blinked rapidly, stared at you for a long moment, and then, quietly, in a voice so soft it almost wasn’t Damian at all.“Does it… hurt?” You paused. His tone wasn’t suspicious this time. It was gentle, concerned and vulnerable in a way he didn’t allow himself often. “…Sometimes” you admitted. “But it’s manageable” Damian sat beside you stiffly, as if calculating the exact appropriate distance, then scooted just a little closer, trying to pretend it was casual. “You should tell me,” he muttered. “If your body is injured. Or if you are in pain.” “I don’t want to worry you” you said softly. “Too late.” he muttered. You smiled a little. He looked away quickly, ears slightly red. After a moment, Damian spoke again, voice low. “I only… I only suspected you were a vigilante because I feared you were putting yourself at risk without support.” You raised an eyebrow. “You mean you care?” “I mean,” he corrected stiffly, “I would prefer to know the capabilities and vulnerabilities of people I—” He stopped himself. Completely froze. You watched him, amused. “People you…?” His jaw clenched. “…people I consider important.”

You didn’t tease him. You just leaned slightly, not enough to startle him, just enough that your shoulder brushed his. Another tiny crack sounded. Damian glared at your joints like they were personally challenging him. “You must stop doing that." he muttered. “I literally can’t” you laughed. He huffed. After a long pause, he added, “If it relieves your pain, then… I suppose it is acceptable.” That, from Damian, was basically a love confessional. You softened. “…Thank you” Damian didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he reached out, hesitating just a heartbeat, then placed his hand very gently on your back, fingers warm, careful. “Tell me where it hurts” he whispered. You exhaled and Damian Wayne, who had spent two days constructing a conspiracy board to prove you were a secret vigilante, now sat beside you with a hand on your spine like you were something precious he was trying to understand. Eventually, he spoke again. “Next time,” he said softly, “Warn me before your skeleton explodes.”

“That’s not how scoliosis works, Damian” “Evidently I still have much to learn.” he muttered. You smiled, warm, grateful, a little in love. Damian pretended not to notice. But he did. And later, when you cracked your shoulder again while reaching for a book, Damian didn’t flinch. He just sighed softly, walked over, and took the book down for you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re ridiculous.” he said. “You’re dramatic” you replied. “We are both correct.” he conceded. And maybe he smiled just a little. (He absolutely did.)

starpatronum

Damian loves you. It's why he didn't push you away when he first saw you. It's why he asked you to prom. It's why he started to care about his safety. It's why he proposed in a field of your favourite flowers. Why he spent days on his vows. Why he planned the wedding to your liking. Why he had a corner in your new house for your achievements.

He gave you a house,you made it home. He bought a couch,you put your snoopy blanket on it.

He bought the bed,you put your plushies on it.

Your shoe next to his. Your showering products next to his. Your jacket hung with his.

The "د" initial on your necklace. Your initial tattoed on his heart.

He spent thousands for a walk in closet, a small couch in there so you could give him a personal fashion show.

Flying first class so you could see your favourite band perform.

Showing you off in galas he was forced to go to.

It's why he texts you whenever he can,to make sure you are ok.

It's why he takes pictures of you in every occassion.

Why he has two sketch books filled with you.

Why he became less snappy with his family.

Why he takes your makeup off for you when you're tired. Tracing your face, his pupils wide with love.

Why he makes you food, so you wouldn't tire yourself with standing.

Why he watches shows he has no interest in, just for you.

Why he wakes up everyday with a reason to live, the reason sleeping next to him.

Damian loves you, and will never stop

cressidagrey

Correlation Error - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Charlotte Fischer (Original Character)

Summary: Charlotte Fischer has spent years making sure no one in Formula One knows who she really is.

She prefers it that way. No family name. No questions. No one looking at her like she is someone’s daughter, someone’s mistake, or someone’s failure to protect.

Max Verstappen notices her anyway.

Warnings and Notes: I wrote fanfiction of my own fanfiction. This is the result.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble.

thoseofthatilk

A little slice of cake for Pierrot’s birthday.

proftoetickler217

A reunion of sorts (MAJOR EP9 SPOILERS!)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Note: This is actually just slop bro I can’t. Anyways, I saw the tadc movie a couple of days ago and the rot is eroding my brain. This is short af but I needed to write something about this movie or else I’d explode. Might post my other fics from my ao3 on here but idk. ALSO I can’t remember exact dialogue from the movie so I winged it in some places. Okay I hope the 3 people who read this slop enjoy.

Summary: this basically follows the plot of the last 20 minutes of the movie. If you’ve seen it you’ll know what scenes I’m talking about lol.

Word count: 1.6k

Tags: light angst, canon deaths, fluff, guilt (if you squint), reunions, could be read as romantic or platonic (kinda leaning towards romantic icl), second person pov (I’m so bad at knowing the differences between povs it’s bad).

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

✿