James, WHEN I CATCH YOU JAMES YOU SON OF YOUR MOTHER EIWOIEJDHSJDHSJD Let's Talk About How The Only People

"OSCAR PISASTRI NOW A TWO TIME WINNIER AND THA'S THE ONLY STUMBLE HE HAS ALL DAY IN TRACK" THIS IS A COMEDY F1 COMENTARY IS NOT REAL 😭

I JUST FUCKING SOBBED AHAHAHAHAHAHA

“Maybe,” Max says, placing his hand on the edge of the top crate, just centimeters away from Charles’ thigh, “they should have asked whose hotel room you stayed in last night?”

Redbull!Charles from all to play for by @drivestraight

Rambling under the cut for author…

I feel like I owe a lot to this fic. Objects in mirror was my gateway drug into lestappen and pretty much the reason why I decided to stick around in the fandom in the first place. Completely blown away by how insanely well written it was. And subsequently fell so deep into the ship. I remember first finding it in around February? Gave you a big rambling anon ask back then about how good it was too fnjfnf I still reread it once a month just to relive the emotions.

I saw an ask you answered the other day saying you don’t get fanart that often and I was like ?!?? How is this possible?? Not under my watch

I know you’re not much into lestappen anymore but I’m really grateful for all the fics you’ve written for them! Just happy to read anything you post nowadays, doesn’t matter what ship. I love your writing so much. You’re extremely talented ❤️

Hope u like the art, it was made with lots of love 🫶

NEED THIS FOR MY FUTURE REFERENCES ALALAALALAL

📚 Master List of My Stories 📚

Hi, my lovely readers! Here’s a list of all my works in one place to make it easier for you to explore my stories. Click on the titles to read the full piece. Happy reading!

🏎️ Max Verstappen 🏎️

The First Time - Max Verstappen x Reader

Control - Max Verstappen x Reader x Charles Leclerc

Punishment - Max Verstappen x Reader x Lando Norris x Nico Hulkenberg

Praise - Max Verstappen x Reader

Slow - Max Verstappen x Reader

Work for It - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader x Max Verstappen x Carlos Sainz

Secret - Max Verstappen x reader

🏎️ Lewis Hamilton 🏎️

Hunger - Lewis Hamilton x Reader

🏎️ Lando Norris 🏎️

On the Edge - Lando Norris x Reader

Needy - Lando Norris x Reader

Devoted to You - Lando Norris x Reader

Miami, baby - Lando Norris x Reader

Punishment - Max Verstappen x Reader x Lando Norris x Nico Hulkenberg

Gift - Lando Norris x Reader

🏎️ Carlos Sainz 🏎️

On a Hurry - Carlos Sainz x Reader

Special Sweater - Carlos Sainz x Reader

Work for It - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader x Max Verstappen x Carlos Sainz

Anxious - Carlos Sainz x Reader

🏎️ Oscar Piastri 🏎️

Brat - Oscar Piastri x Reader

🏎️ Daniel Ricciardo 🏎️

Work for it - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader x Max Verstappen x Carlos Sainz

🏎️ Charles Leclerc 🏎️

Control - Max Verstappen x Reader x Charles Leclerc

🏎️ Nico Hulkenberg 🏎️

Punishment - Max Verstappen x Reader x Lando Norris x Nico Hulkenberg

congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”

how did it end?

ln x famous fem!reader

in which it ends, until…

i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses

songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

4.1k words

one gasp, and then…

“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.

you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.

you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.

you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.

“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.

yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.

“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.

fittings, shoots, paris trip.

mhm.

swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.

cool.

week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.

no.

“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.

“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“i can’t go to the race. no.”

“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”

“you know i can’t-“

“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.

“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”

“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”

you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.

what if he already was?

-

look who we ran into at the shops,

walking in circles like he was lost

lando stares at the shampoo.

specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.

he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.

you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.

perhaps he had, in a way.

the basket grazes the outside of his leg.

that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.

there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.

oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-

“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.

“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.

“shopping.”

“for women’s shampoo?”

“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.

“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.

lando smiles weakly.

“i’ve been sleeping.”

alex sighs.

“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”

lando’s shoulders visibly sag.

“about a month ago.”

-

we hereby conduct this post-mortem

“we can’t do this anymore.”

the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.

“i know.” lando breathes shakily.

“i don’t want this but…”

“yeah.”

it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.

he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.

he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.

it’s too much.

“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.

“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.

your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.

you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.

when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.

“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.

“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”

you’re gone when he wakes up.

and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign

-

come one, come all

it’s happening again

the empathetic hunger descends

there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.

you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.

“so, what happened there, with lando?”

you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.

“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”

“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.

vultures. everyone is a vulture.

“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”

there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.

“we still have a lot of love for each other.”

translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?

-

lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.

he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.

god, why do you look fine?

he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.

“he’s a wonderful person.”

your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.

he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.

lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.

he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.

the deflation of our dreaming

leaving me bereft and reeling

my beloved ghost and me

sitting in a tree

d-y-i-n-g

-

your stylist is plying you with options.

you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-

you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.

what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.

visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.

you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.

when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.

i’ll try and keep my distance.

try.

try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.

should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.

you think i didn’t already know?

of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.

-

there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.

you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.

lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.

depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.

“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.

“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.

“forced?”

“‘m here for work.” you sigh.

“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.

“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.

“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.

“how are you?”

you want to touch him.

“shit.”

he needs a taste.

“yeah.”

you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.

you stand there, stare at each other.

take me home, you want to beg.

come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.

“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.

lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.

logic wins, unfortunately.

“thank you.”

you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.

-

it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.

you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.

you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?

you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.

the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.

“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.

he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.

you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.

dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.

-

say it once again with feeling…

the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.

the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.

he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.

you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.

“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.

“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.

“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“

“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.

he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.

“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.

“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.

“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.

your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.

lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!

you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.

“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.

home.

yeah, home.

“don’t make me wait.” you grin.

his brain short circuits.

“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.

you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”

-

you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.

you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.

he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.

the front door opens behind you.

you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.

“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”

“i came back for you.”

“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”

you nod. he kisses your neck.

“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.

you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.

-

shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.

“missed you. missed this.”

“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.

“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.

“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.

he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.

“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”

you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.

“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.

“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.

“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.

“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.

“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.

the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.

your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.

“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.

you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.

“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.

“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.

you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.

“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.

“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.

“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.

“can’t believe i lived without this.”

“can’t believe you’re all mine.”

the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.

“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”

your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.

you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.

home.

“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.

“hm?”

“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”

your eyes are watery.

“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”

“about that…”

lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.

you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.

“sit up.”

you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.

“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.

you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.

“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.

“bath?”

“you know me so well, noz.”

come one, come all

it’s happening again

-

oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne

pete said. porsche your boyfriend choked you to save your life. mine does it for fun. for my fun

crying so hard right now WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

Love Potion '99

Pairing: Vampire!Oscar x Witch!Reader

Rating: PG-17

Words: 3.5K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, it's just....I'm sorry

A/N: Happy October!!! Hope you all love it cause I haven’t written in a hot minute so yeah

Synopsis: Oscar should really pay attention to which mug he drinks

"Hey, when is it going to be ready?" Looking up from your little black cauldron, you see your coworker Oscar. Despite the vampire jokes Lando likes to crack, you and Oscar share a unique bond. You've lost count of the times you've heard those vampire and sun jokes, and Oscar's giggles always make the situation lighter.

"Should be ready soon," You smile, watching as he sits down his mug, filled with the sickly sweet smell of iron. Leaning over, he looks down at the blood-tinged potion, a swirling mixture of rare herbs and a drop of blood from a lovestruck goblin, and crinkles his nose. "Who even wants a love potion?" He grumbles, but you both know the answer. Poor Angie, a ghost who lost her boyfriend to a gorgon, and she wanted him back.

"Oscar, we're not supposed to judge our customers," you sigh as Oscar shakes his head. You can't help but feel for Angie, a ghost who lost her boyfriend to a gorgon and wanted him back. "Poor, Angie," Oscar whispers, grabbing his mug and sipping it. "I know, I know. I told her it was useless. It only works when someone has some sort of feelings for the person. She didn't want to listen," Oscar shakes his head as he leans against your work table.

"Going to the party?" He asks; your face pinches, making him smile, his fangs poking out slightly, "No, god knows I like Lando, but spending a full moon with him? No way," Oscar hums and itches his ear. The party was always a sight, a gathering of all supernatural beings. "Would," He clears his throat, "Would you like to come to my place and watch trashy Halloween movies instead?" Sticking in your spoon, you gather up the thick potion and put it in your mug, sitting it down.

"Maybe, I don't know, you know how I am with full moons," Oscar rolls his shoulders and grabs his mug, taking a huge gulp, but freezes and lowers it. "Ugh, bad batch," Putting it down, you giggle and go to grab your mug but turn to stone, seeing it empty. "Um, Oscar, don't kill me," Oscar raises an eyebrow, confused by your sudden change, and hears your heartbeat pick up. "What? I would never hurt you," He growls, insulted by the thought that he'd do anything to hurt you.

"Oscar, I think you drank my potion," you whisper, covering your mouth with your hand. Oscar's eyes widen before they narrow, and he looks down at his mug. He picks it up, sniffs it, and then looks at the one dangling from your hand. "Oh," he whispers and stares at the mug. "Oh, no," he backs away, and you squeak.

"Listen, you should be fine! As long as you don't have feelings for someone and aren't in contact with them, you should be fine," You laugh nervously as Oscar shakes his head. "Tell me you have an antidote," You fall silent at that, and his eyes about pop out. "You didn't make an antidote!" He yells, and you flinch, "She didn't ask for an antidote, and who the hell," You hiss, "DRINKS MY POTION!" You yell back as Oscar tugs at his hair. "You set the mug next to mine!" He rebukes, but you just scuff.

"Please, do not blame this on me; you are the one who decided not to check if it was the right mug!" Oscar growls and you actually freeze. Lando walks into the back, "The hell are you two yelling at each other for? We have customers in the front!' Lando growls low as you and Oscar turn towards him. "Y/n made a love potion, and she put it in a mug next to mine, and I just drank it!" "Dumbass here just drank my love potion and is trying to say it's my fault!" You both yell, Lando's eyes grow wide before he steps back. "Above my pay grade," he turns around, returning to the store's front.

"Ugh! You'll be fine anyway, Oscar. It's not like you're in love with anyone," You grumble, bottling up the last little bit for Poor Angie. Oscar glares, and you look up, mouth dropping open. "Oh god, oh god, you're in love with someone, aren't you," You whisper; you always thought so but never wanted to make him uncomfortable. "I knew it!" Oscar's eyes widen in utter horror at your words. "I knew you were in love with Lando!"

Oscar sputters, "Lando? Are you insane," He hisses, sounding like a cat, and you turn red, "Oh, oh, I was wrong," You cover your face as Oscar throws his arms up, "Fucking hell, Y/n," He voice cracking as it goes up an octave. "You know what, I just, just, I'm going to the front," He turns and stalks out of the room, leaving you in the back reeling.

------------------

"Hey," you jump, dropping all your potion books. As you turn, you see Lando leaning in your doorway. "Poor Angie is here, please hurry," He begs, and you nod, knowing that when Poor Angie starts to cry, she always bursts Lando's eardrums," Grabbing the potion, you walk into the front, and your eyes immediately find Oscar, who was helping a fairie find some herbs, he looks up and blushes quickly looking away, and you sigh, "So stupid," You grumble,

"Hi, Angie," She looks up, bottom lip wobbling as she hiccups, the windows shaking, and Lando slides on his head headphones, refusing to be laughed at by his mate, Carlos again. "Hi," She sobs, and you sit across from her. "Here's your potion. I hope it works," you whisper. She blows her nose, the windows crack, and Lando presses the headphones closer. "Thanks," She sobs and walks out, letting out a wail that has everyone inside and outside flinching as the glass spiderwebs. "Damn wailing ghosts," Lando grumbles.

You turn, freezing as Oscar stares at you intently but quickly looks away and moves fast to the back. "Sooo, drugged him, huh?" Lando teases, and you turn, glaring, "He was being dumb, mistook my potion mug as his blood mug and drank it. Not my fault," Lando shrugged his shoulders; besides, he did the research. Potion won't be broken until under a full moon and with a particular mushroom that blooms under it every 15 years, and guess what?" "It's this 15th year," "Yep," Lando popping the 'p,' making you huff.

"Also, I would keep Oscar with you, a vampire on a love potion? He'll want to bite and drain whoever he's in love with," You stare at Lando; it had not even occurred to you that a vampire on a love potion would be a disaster. "Shit, he's going to have to live with me, isn't he?" You groan, banging your head on the counter, Lando pulling his book from your head. "Hey, this isn't my fault; you're the one who decided to drug him. Your head snaps up quickly as you glare at him. "I didn't drug him; he's the one who was reckless," You hiss, stomping off as Lando giggles and follows you into the back room.

Oscar sits on his little stool, pouting as he stares at his blood mug. "Oscar, you'll have to stay with me until the full moon." Sometimes, you forget that Oscar is a vampire until he's suddenly standing in front of you, staring down at you. Backing up, your back hits the counter corner, and Oscar towers over you. "Why? I thought you said-" He closes his mouth, jaw so tight you worry it'd break.

"Oscar, stop. That looks like it hurts," you whisper, your hand reaching up and touching his jaw. Jerking away, he looks down and unclenches his fists. "I should probably go to your place, right?" His voice is soft as he leans back, giving you space. "Yes, Lando thinks it would be best," Pulling out your keys, you lay them in his palm, and a slight smile graces his lips. "Guess I'll see you at home, roomie," You feel warmth coat your cheeks as you clear your throat. "See ya,"

-----------------------

"This is so weird," Oscar whines, tugging at his hair as he stands in your bedroom. And god, he's wanted to be in this room so much, but he didn't want it to be here this way. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. How the hell do you drink from the wrong mug," He flops back, lying on the bed, and takes a deep breath but quickly sits back up. "Fucking potion, everything about you is charged now," He whispers, grabbing your blanket, wanting to take a deep breath, but stops knowing he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

"Oscar!" Sitting up fast, he rushes into the living room and sits down as you open the front door. He smiles innocently, grabbing a random book. You stop, startled by him being right there. "Hey, everything okay? You're not feeling.....bity?" Oscar's smile drops slightly, but he shrugs it off. "I'm well aware of what love potions do to vampires, Y/n," You sigh, dropping your bags and hurling yourself onto the couch beside him. "Oscar, I'm so sorry," You whimper into the pillow.

Sighing, Oscar stands and moves gently, kneeling at eye level with you. "Y/n, baby, it's okay," He curses himself. What the hell is he doing calling you baby? Stupid potion, god, the full moon couldn't come quicker. "Oscar, you drank a love potion, and now, I have to babysit you because your feelings for that person are just going to grow, and it's going to get harder to control yourself," You whisper, unable to understand the pain.

"Should've been Lando; he would've just gotten super horny," You groan, hiding your face in the pillow. "That's Lando already," Oscar reasons, pulling a giggle out of you as you look at him. "That's true," Oscar smiles, feeling his chest warm at making you feel better. "Listen, I'll be alright," You sit up, pouting. "I only have one bed," Oscar stopped breathing, not like he needed to, but still, he didn't even notice.

Shit, he was royally fucked now.

"Oh, I can sleep on the couch," He takes tiny breaths, trying to ignore the thrum of your pulse and how your scent wraps around him. "Oscar, please, you're," You wave your hand, not wanting to call him large, but Oscar was rather broad. Oscar giggles and covers his mouth, "I will be fine on the couch," "No, you and I can share a bed, Oscar. We've been friends for years; hell, I've even shared a bed with Lando," Oscar can't control the slight growl but quickly clamps it down, but you hear its eyes widening. "Sorry,"

"I like Lando, but no, thank you." Oscar feels a little bit of pride and happiness well up in him. He may have a chance with you. "Um, shit, it's close to dinner, what would you like?" "Nothing in a mug," You stare at him, not finding it funny, and he stops his goofy smile and clears his throat. "Um, too soon?" "Too soon," You pat his head, standing up and walking into your kitchen.

"Um, I can eat anything," Oscar stands, knees popping as he moves to lean against the counter, smiling. Baked chicken with mac and cheese?" Oscar nods and moves, getting everything before you can even turn. Okay, rule, no vampire speed unless asked," Oscar's cheeks get a little flushed, and you must stop yourself from getting giddy at how adorable he looks. "Sorry," he mumbles and helps you by making the coat for the chicken.

"Hey, how would you know if the potion was working? I mean, could it be you made a faulty batch?" Oscar approaches the topic carefully, not wanting to insult you and your craft. "Hmmm, it's possible; love potions are tricky; I mean, one simple ingredient could make it not work, so we just have to watch and see." You shrug, boiling the pasta as Oscar nods, chopping up some veggies. "Um, how will we know if it's working?" Setting the knife down, and looks at you.

You look up and see the worry and maybe slight terror in his eyes. Wiping your hands on a towel, you sigh and fix your shirt. "Oscar, Poor Angie asked for a powerful and potent love potion. Everything you feel for the person you like will be heightened to the extreme. It's basically your soul being consumed by that person wholly." You explain. Oscar swallows thickly and turns back to the cutting board. The sound of a knife on wood fills the silence.

"Oscar, you're going to be okay," You whisper, his body jumping, feeling your arms wrap around his waist as you hide your face in his back. "Just make it till the end of the week. Then we can go back to normal," Oscar drops his head and covers your hands with his, squeezing them. He turns and hugs you properly, burying his nose in your hair, and refuses to let you go. "Promise me, promise you won't let me hurt you," He whispers, squeezing you slightly before letting you go.

"You'd never hurt me; besides, I'm not the one you love," You pat his cheek gently and go back to the pasta, stirring it as Oscar feels his heart shatter and clears his throat. "Yeah, that's true," he whispers and goes back to helping you cook for dinner.

----------------------------

"You look like hell," If Oscar had any strength, he'd smash Lando's skull in as he pushed him into a mug filled with warmed blood. "Not a love potion, just good ol' blood." Oscar glares and goes back to hiding his face in his arms. "Must be hard, living with the women you love, and the love potion making you crazy; I'd give you props; you'd got big balls," Lando leans on Oscar's counter, and Oscar groans in response.

"I mean, if I was surrounded by her scent and shared a bed with her, I would've already bent her-" Oscar snaps, snarling and swinging his arm, Lando easily dodging and sighs heavily. "Well, guessing the potion is working," Oscar's eyes grow wide, and he sits down, dropping his head. "All I want is her; I just can't function. I wasn't able to sleep because of her pulse, fuck Lando, I wanted to bury my teeth and more in her and just," Oscar shakes his head; no, you're his friend; he has no right to think about you like that, it made him feel gross and horrible.

"Have you wanked?" Oscar quickly stares at Lando like he's grown a second head. "What? You're clearly pent up; just go wank or something; maybe it'll help," Blinking, Oscar really questions his life and why he's picked Lando, of all people, to be his best friend. "I'm in love, Lando, not in whatever it is you go werewolves go through, "You mean a-" "Don't you dare, finish that sentence," Oscar flashing his fangs as Lando holds his hands up.

"Listen, mate, maybe you should come to stay with me instead," Lando whispers as you walk past, talking with a customer about a potion to let their hair change whenever they think about it. "No, no, the thought of being away from her, it hurts so much, Lando," Oscar whimpers, biting his bottom lip and drawing blood. "Muppet," Lando sighs and grabs a tissue and dabs his bottom lip. "Osc, you can't do this to yourself. I don't think you'll make it to the full moon," Lando whispers, feeling horrible for his friend.

"I can, I can do it, and then I can go back to silently wishing I had a chance with her. But the mere thought of being away from her makes me crazy, Lando; I can't stand being away for more than a few minutes. If she's in my presence, that's fine, but away? No," Oscar shakes his head as he turns, seeing you laugh and smile with the customer. Lando sighs and ruffles Oscar's hair before patting his cheek. "Drink your blood, Oscar," Oscar nods and drinks his blood sadly.

------------------------------

"No, please, Oscar, don't do this!" You whimper, covering your mouth as Oscar pulls his mouth away, drenched in blood. "You did this. You made me this! It's all your fault!" He roars, eyes blood red as he rips into the poor woman's throat again.

"NOO!" You sit up fast, breathing rapidly as you try to suck in the cool fall air; Oscar is immediately in front, ripping a scream from your throat; he backs up, flinging himself into the wall as he stares at you. "Y/n, baby?" He whispers as you wipe the sweat from your brow, trying to calm your heart. His eyes train to your neck, and you flinch, but you immediately feel tears gather in your eyes.

"I...I..I made you into a monster," You sob, covering your mouth as tension leaves Oscar's body. "Shh, no, I'm not. I'm here; I'm still your Oscar," He whispers and climbs on the bed slowly, not wanting to push you beyond your limit. "You turned into a monster," You hiccup, wiping your eyes furiously, "It's all my fault," You sob, Oscar moving and tackling you in a hug as you bury your face in his shirt, as he shushes you, everything in him begging to get you to stop crying.

"No, no baby, it's not. It's my fault, mine. I should've been more careful," Oscar pleads, bundling you up in his arms as he scans the room, making sure nothing was in the room hurting you. "It's mine, not yours, never yours, baby." He whispers, kissing the top of your head as you cling to him tightly, your sobs slowing down. "I'm so sorry, Oscar, I'm so sorry," Oscar shakes his head and lays you both down, pressing you against his chest.

"Don't please, don't cry over me," Oscar begs, growing desperate as the potion curls in his heart, fucking potion. "I swear, I'll get that antidote, I promise," Oscar bites down hard on his lip, drawing blood again, but licks it away as he moves you two to lie down. "Can I confess something," You whisper, calming down from your nightmare. "Of course," Oscar whispers, letting the stillness of the night settle around you two.

"I wish it was me," Oscar freezes, not understanding, and lets you continue, "I wish it was me you were in love with; isn't that stupid," You laugh and cuddle closer into Oscar's hold, who stops breathing, having the urge to just blurt out the truth. It's not! It's you! I've always loved you!

"It's silly, sorry. Just let's go to sleep," you whisper, hiding your face in his chest. "No, it's not silly. I wish it was you, too," he whispers, hearing your heart rate pick up before slowing down. "Hmm, we can just dream, "You whisper. Oscar blinks fast, blinking away the tears that have gathered. "Yeah," His voice breaking before he clears his throat. "Goodnight, Osc," Oscar stares at the ceiling, whispering a broken goodnight.

-----------------------

"Happy Full Moon," Lando chuckles, as Oscar looks far more like death. This has been the longest week of his life, and two nights ago, after what you said, he barely functioned, just moving through life the past two days like Poor Angie. "Lando, should I tell her?" He whispers, stirring his blood mug; Lando stares at his friend, heartbreaking, remembering when he went through his heartbreak with his girlfriend. "I don't know, buddy, it's up to you if you tell her," The door opens, and you walk in smiling so bright Oscar fears it'd burn him like the sun.

"I found it! The mushroom blossomed last night, so I made the antidote, tada!" You hold out the shimmering navy blue vial that makes Oscar's heart drop. "Oh," He whispers, throat so tight he can't breathe, which is silly, considering he's already dead. "Yeah, but I contacted Charles, and he said the only downside is that it'll wipe all traces of feelings of romance you have for the person, so here," You place it in his hand and walk away.

"Fuck, man." Oscar stares at the vial as Lando curses softly and shakes his head. "Oscar, it'll wipe everything, are you sure," Lando whispers, seeing and practically hearing Oscar's heart just break. "Hey, can you go get something for me?" Oscar asks, Lando nodding his head. "Um, under my desk, there's a picture of Y/n. Can you get rid of it for me?" Lando sighs, not saying anything as he walks away.

Going into the back, Lando quickly finds the picture, pulls it out, and stares in shock as if it were Oscar and Y/n as little kids. Oscar was clearly human, a cute little boy with the same hair as of now smiling brightly next to you. "Jesus, fuck, you've known her since you were human," Lando whispers and walks out.

"Goddamn, Osc, you never told me you've known her since- no," Lando whispers, seeing the empty vial and Oscar chugging his blood. "Hey, we better hurry up; we've got customers," Oscar smiles, teeth stained red as Lando nods, ripping up the photo and tossing it in the trash. "Hey, Welcome to Potion '99!" Lando smiles as the door dings.

huge fan of reading and learning, but also an even bigger fan of sleeping and being unconscious.

the "This isn't right and I shouldn't be into this but I'm interested" ADHD moment kicking in

I just reada really good fic but halfway through I realized "oh shit this is really familiar.... didn't I write something like this once?" And as I kept reading I kept predicting what happened next and the further I went the more convinced I was that they'd ripped off my story-

like, copied the ENTIRE plot and re-written it, just better than I had? The characters were more fleshed-out than mine were, and the POV was more interesting, and the pace made more sense- but it was MY STORY?

So close to the end I was like "holy shit.. do I message them? Ask if my story inspired theirs? Should I be angry? Flattered?" Cause their tags and description didn't mention me AT ALL, which, sure, it's fanfiction to begin with, but if you're using my work than at least credit me as inspo, right? Just to be courteous?

But I get to the end of the final chapter, and it's not finished, and I'm kind of disappointed cause I never finished my story and I was really immersed in their version now and had been looking forwards to seeing how they tied up my loose ends- so I scroll to the bottom to leave a comment, and.

It's MY URL.

IT WAS MY STORY THE WHOLE TIME.

THE ONE *I WROTE*.

In *2013*.

And FORGOT ABOUT

BECAUSE I WAS SO INSECURE ABOUT MY SLOPPY, SHALLOW, AMETEUR WRITING

And I'm just sitting here now staring into space thinking about every shitty story I've ever written now like

IT WAS ALL GOOD?

IT WAS GOOD THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME??

I'M A GOOD WRITER?????

🥺

if it's Carlos Sainz he can lie all he damn wants JSHDJSGHDJHSJ

I thought he said no parties after 30 all men do is lie 😩😭