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lamb-teaa · 3 months ago

Text

` Transactional Tantrum

` pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

` tags: fluff. romcom. silly shenanigans. filthy rich Sylus. chaotic!reader cuz we all want to be spoiled and provided by him don't lie 🫵🏻

` teaa's note: where can i get a husband like Sylus (⁠ ⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥́⁠⌢⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥̀⁠)

People hail him as a powerful man amongst all existing factions in the N109 Zone, yet even someone like Sylus isn't immune to the dread of a tedious business dealings.

Don't get him wrong, it is practically his job for a lack of better words but you can't blame the man for nearly dying out of boredom at the moment.

Ping!

A sudden notification from his phone tore his attention away from his yammering business partners. Sylus briefly glanced down at his phone, brows furrowed in confusion when he read the transaction alert message on his screen.

'Ten million was charged to your Credit Card at Summers Jewelry'

Sylus didn't even have the chance to ponder over the sudden message further when he was suddenly startled by another barrage of notifications - yes, plural notifications.

'Four million was charged to your Credit Card at M&Hs'

'Six million was charged to your Credit Card at Nebulas'

'Eight million was charged to your Credit Card at Zapple'

Despite the deadpan expression on his face and his usual nonchalance silence, the slightest quirk of his brows were enough to give away his bewildered reaction to seeing such random transaction alerts on his card.

He doesn't recall making any on-hold purchases and certainly didn't give the twins any permission to spend any after the last time they went all out using his card in the past.

Which means only one person would be bold enough to overspend his money on a whim like this and his eyes instantly flickered in amusement when another transaction message came through his phone.

'Thirteen million was charged to your Credit Card at Abyssal Attire'

Seems like a certain kitten is on a wild spending spree.

Observing the transaction alerts, Sylus let out a low chuckle, ignoring the strange looks from his business partners who continued on with their discussion.

His sole attention now was you - his lovely kitten spending all his money with reckless abandon.

As his thumb hovered over the icon of your picture on his phone, he couldn't help but grin at the large purchases you made - given the fact you had always been reluctant to spend on his card before despite the countless times he had reassured you that he wants you to use his money to your heart's content.

Sylus, without a doubt, always wants the best for you. Even when you nagged him on buying such expensive gifts before, yet that will never stop him from spoiling you rotten.

Though.. he wondered what sparked this sudden influx of random purchases this first time around?

With his interest now piqued towards you, Sylus strode out of the conference room without a care in the world, especially when said discussion had led to no satisfying result on his end, thus he neither bothered about the frustrated and flabbergasted looks of the businessmen as he made his way along the hallways of the building.

Luke and Kieran, who's been by his side the entire meeting, automatically followed their boss out. Both brothers exchange curious looks from behind their masks with a shrug. Though they had great knowledge that only two things could spring their boss out of his usual routine - an unexpected ambush or well, you.

And it seemed like they were right on the nose as they watched Sylus’s thumb pressed onto the screen of his phone before bringing the device close to his ear, an amused yet genuine smile curled on their fierce leader's lips as he called out your name.

"Is it just me or a certain kitten is behaving quite impulsively with her spending today?” His voice held a steady yet teasing affection tone, his mind already picturing your smug expression at overspending his money. “This is a first, sweetie.”

"Oh look who finally remembered me!" Your voice snapped, the snarky and sarcastic response made Sylus pause in his track in surprise.

Before he could say anything, you cut him off, your voice faux innocent under a thinly veiled anger from the other line. "To think it took blowing your credit card to call me after making me wait for you the past THREE hours, you better have some explaining to do mister!”

To say you had left Sylus utterly speechless would be an understatement of the century, but it quite frankly did as your unexpected anger left his mind reeling in both confusion and worry.

Even his brief frozen state wasn't left unnoticed by Luke and Kieran, both could heard your snappy voice from the other line and they know an unhappy Miss Hunter equals to a agitated Onychinus leader, so they quietly watched in as Sylus slowly recover from his initial surprise before turning his attention back to the phone call.

“Kitten.” Sylus blinked, a frown forming on his lips, "I don't recall us having plans today? And I'm out of town for the time being as well.”

There was a sudden silence from your side, and for a second there Sylus thought you had hung up on him but your next words made him even more confused.

"Wait, what, I thought Luke and Kieran said you'd be free for the weekend and they'd told you about our date for today?"

At the mention of the twins, Sylus's head immediately snapped towards his henchmen who visibly tensed up. It didn't take long for Sylus to put two and two together that Luke and Kieran had pulled another of their mischievous pranks on you.

Oh but this one is definitely going to cost them their four months worth of paycheck for making his kitten angry at him.

"It seems like the twins have made a mistake. I wasn't aware of such plans today." Sylus's voice dropped low and dangerous, a flicker of annoyance as he shot the tensed twins a hard glare.

Though, knowing it would be no use to him to be mad at them at that moment, Sylus paused briefly once more before taking a deep breath, calming himself down. "I assure you, sweetie, I would never intentionally forget anything, especially when it's about you.”

There was another stretch of silence before you spoke up again, your voice softer and apologetic, wincing in guilt for assuming he'd purposely ditched you when that wasn't the case. "I'm sorry.." You sighed quietly. "I just.. I was looking forward to seeing you today and I.. I missed you, Sy.."

His annoyance instantly melted away at your confession. He understood that his work often kept him away, leaving you feeling neglected at times and he wanted nothing more than to rush to your side and hold you dearly in his arms. You always had a way to tug at his heartstrings and even then he relishes at the admission of you needing him as much as he needed you.

"I'll make it up to you, right now. Anything you want, name it." Sylus emphasized seriously, already giving Luke and Kieran a look of command. Not needing any further words as the twins bolted off to prepare his private jet to head back to Linkon.

"Well, you could start by allowing me to strangle those twins." You chirped, your voice brighter now yet held intentional malice mostly directed towards his loyal henchmen for tricking you with false information regarding Sylus's work schedule.

"And cuddles. I expect to see you at my place later tonight for cuddles or else I'll empty your entire bank account." You demanded sweetly, with a clearly joking threat but given you had waited three whole hours like a fool in public, you were tempted to do it again if Sylus bails on you twice in a day.

Your laughter tinkled over the phone, a lovely sound that never ceases to make Sylus's heart swell with blissful affection. The business deal be damned and he'll handle the twins' antics another time, for now, all he wanted was to go back to you.

Sylus chuckled, a warm smile tugging at his lips despite himself as he made his way up the building's rooftop. He knew his kitten was quite a force to be reckoned with, and yet such side of you made him drawn to you even more than ever - oh, he couldn't wait to see you again soon. "Deal. Cuddles it is, and you have my word, sweetie, I'll be at your doorstep by tonight. As for the twins, well, I'm sure they'll be begging for mercy by the time you're done with them.”

Back to your awaiting loving embrace.

#get a man who spoils you rotten like Sy-Sy 🥹#why is he not real ORZ #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus x y/n #sylus x mc #lads fluff #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace scenarios #love and deepspace #lads fanfic #also wrote this on a whim due to stress work so it's not my best but at least got it outta my system :')

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motorsportbarbie13 · 1 month ago

Text

Post It - LN4

when lando stumbles upon a random tiktok of a pretty american influencer, he can't stop himself from sliding into her DMs. what happens next is more than both of them ever bargained for.

warnings: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE SHOT. (spoiler alert, it's not) (i blame @lestapiastrisgirl. She’s a bad influence 🤭) no warnings really, i just needed to have some soft boyfriend coded lando in my life again after how dirty i did him in 'aftermath'. ENJOY THE NEW SERIES MY BABIES! 🫶🏻 pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader word count: 3.7k words (plus SMAU posts)

Lando should have been paying attention. He should have been paying attention to Jack Whitehall standing up on stage, making jokes at Max and George’s expense. He absolutely should not have been using the down time between livery reveals to stalk your social media profiles but here he was. It wasn’t his fault trying to figure you out was way more interesting than anything the FIA and this stupidly awkward night had to offer.

He had been scrolling his FYP earlier in the day while McLaren comms staff had bustled around the Hilton conference room, his attention pulled away from the boring media briefing Zak and Andrea were trying to get him to care about, when you had popped up on his screen. It was an innocent video, one that he usually would have flipped right on by but something had his thumb pausing, hovering over the screen instead of swiping away.

You were in well lit hallway, lip syncing to that new Gracie Abrams song that was all over the place looking like you didn’t have a care in the world. Your smile was infectious as you held eye contact with the camera, arms thrown to your sides as you sang your heart out. It looked like you were about to go somewhere, a gray woolen overcoat tugged over your shoulders as a pink and white knit jumper peaked out from underneath.

It was only when Oscar had asked him how many times he was going to listen to that thirty seconds of song that Lando realized he’d been watching your video for an embarrassing length of time. Turning crimson, Lando had quickly favorited the video to come back to later and closed out the app.

He’d been caught up in preparations for this stupid F1 75 event for the rest of the evening but the moment he’d had a break, he was back stalking your socials. Your Instagram was conveniently linked to your TikTok account so it wasn't hard and the moment Lando started scrolling, he was hooked.

yourusername posted

909,102 likes liked by lando, yourbff, hannahstjohn, and others yourusername lots to catch up on... user0298 body is teeeeeea user1112 that gray dress tho! where is it from??? >>>yourusername @/aritzia!!! lando 🔥🔥🔥 (liked by author) >>>user0200 landooooo what are you doing here??? >>>user555 first in the likes too. he was QUICK

The Monegasque sun was blindingly bright, reflecting off the pristine white of Lando’s apartment balcony. He was trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace, something that he’d miss when the season started up in two weeks. Right now though, he had been back from testing in Bahrain for a few days and was leaving for Australia sometime next week. This was the last weekend of peace and quiet he’d have until summer break.

An insistent buzz shatters the quiet calm that he’d cocooned himself in, his phone blinking to life. He glanced at the screen. Rich. His personal PR manager that he’d hired after his last messy breakup to help with his image.

“What is it, Rich?” Lando sighs.

“Lando, we need to talk about this weekend.” Rich’s voice was sharp, a glaring contrast to the relaxed atmosphere of Lando’s apartment.

“What about this weekend?” He asks, a knot forming in his stomach. Lando knew where this was going.

“Allegra.” Rich says, his voice bright with faux enthusiasm. “She’s coming to Monaco this weekend. We need some content before the start of the season. Really amp up the exposure before you get too busy.”

Allegra. Or Allie as she insisted Lando call her in private, but always Allegra in public. She was also managed by Rich, who was the one that had introduced them last year with the sole purpose of having them hit it off and start dating. When that hadn’t materialized, Rich had started meddling, sending her to events that he knew Lando would be at, having her come to Monaco and follow him around like a lost puppy.

It had worked though. The rumors started swirling and before he knew it, Lando and Allie were rumored to be dating. He had never confirmed the relationship, always insisting that he was single and Allie had followed suit, coyly grinning in interviews when the model had been asked specifically about him. He hadn’t fought it though. Maybe he was a coward or maybe he just liked the attention, but it had certainly brought a certain degree of recognition to his name in the months that he had been linked to her. He never confirmed it but he never denied it either.

And then he had met you.

“No.” Lando says flatly, cutting him off. “Nope. I’m done with this.”

“Done?” On the other end of the line, Rich sputters. “What do you mean, ‘done’? Think of your brand, your image! You have a merch drop happening in a few weeks and a rebrand with Quadrant! You need this attention.”

“I don’t need her to bring me attention.” Lando scoffs. “I’m tired of playing this game. I’m tired of Allie. She’s…she’s weird, Rich. And this whole thing is a joke. I know you’ve seen the gossip pages laughing at me. Laughing at her. I’ve had enough.”

“Lando.” Rich tuts, his tone taking on that of someone scolding a small child. The heat rises in Lando’s cheeks as he stands, pacing the balcony. “She’s a social media powerhouse. She brings in millions of impressions. People love talking about her, speculating about if she’s with you or not. This is a business.”

“Business?” Lando laughs, cold and bitter. “This is a manufactured relationship, Rich. It’s fake and it’s draining. I don’t want her here. I don’t want her anywhere near me anymore. Either you tell her I’m done or I will, you choose.”

“You’re being irrational. This is a PR strategy and it’s working! We’re getting the numbers, the attention! It’s everything you hired me to do!”

Lando drags his hand over his face, scrubbing at the migraine that he feels forming behind his eyes. “I don’t care about the numbers.” He says tightly, his mind flickering to you and the way you’ve been a bit distant this week. “I care about my sanity. I care about being genuine and this? This thing with her? That is the opposite of genuine.”

“You’re throwing away a huge opportunity.” Rich warns, frustration sneaking into his voice. “This is so unprofessional.”

“Unprofessional?” Lando shouts, his anger getting the better of him. “You’re the one being unprofessional. You’re treating me like a product, not a person. The only thing you care about is your fucking paycheck, nothing else.” Lando’s chest heaves, his breath coming in short spurts.

“Lando, calm down -”

“No.” Lando spits. “No, I won’t calm down. I’m done with this. I’m done with you and I’m done with Allie. This whole charade is over.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, trying to control his rage. “You’re fired, Rich.”

He slams the phone down, not even giving Rich the opportunity to respond. The abrupt silence amplifies the sound of his pounding heart as he sits down again. He stares out at the glittering expanse of the Mediterranean, the anger still simmering within him. He feels a strange mix of relief and anxiety. He had just burned a big bridge but it was a bridge he had never wanted to cross in the first place. He knew there would be consequences but for the first time in a long time, Lando felt like he was in control.

Now, if only he could get you to return his calls.

You thought you’d been prepared for the activity of the paddock. Hannah had spent enough time during the flight over telling you what to expect but the crowds in Shanghai were nothing short of overwhelming. The smell of engine oil and popcorn permeated the air, a strange mixture that tickled your nose in a slightly unpleasant way. You tried to calm the anxiety that was settling deep in your chest, the tight constricting feeling pulling at your ribs in a way that had you desperately wanting to go back to the hotel room.

You knew it was strange, someone with as much anxiety and issues with crowds being an influencer like you were but most of the time you had control over it. You had asked Hannah so many questions about what to expect but nothing could have prepared you for the way the crowds crushed in on you even in the paddock.

Liam had come to the track early to meet with his engineers before the practice and sprint qualifying. and Hannah had been left to your own devices. The crowds were one thing, you knew you’d get used to them eventually and that you just had to work your way through the panic but there was something else causing your shoulders to hitch up tightly towards your ears and your jaw tighten with every flash of orange you saw: Lando.

It had been a few months since he slid into your DMs and at first is had been fun. He was charming, texting you nearly all day with all sorts of questions and banter, FaceTiming you while you were curled up in bed in your Boston apartment, talking about the fast lives you both lived. It was intoxicating getting attention from someone like Lando. His attention felt like the sun, all warm and welcoming. You knew there was chemistry there but you lived in Boston and he split is time between London and Monaco. You had expected him to invite you out to see him soon or at least bring up meeting somewhere half way.

But then the pictures had surfaced online.

Lando walking around the busiest part of Monaco with his best friend Max, Max’s girlfriend Pietra and a blonde model named Allegra. It was so painfully clear he was with her from the shots of him driving her around in one of his many cars three weekends in a row.

You felt so stupid. Getting with a guy that was clearly comfortable being publicly seen on a double date was a hard no, you had more respect for yourself and Allegra to even touch that kind of drama. Of course, there was an endless debate on if they were even together or not, it didn’t take much to find the online gossip pages that spent a lot of time trying to figure out if they were an item. Lando had never publicly confirmed the relationship and neither had Allegra, both insisting they were just friend and Lando was single.

But the pictures were hard to deny.

So you had ghosted him.

You didn’t want to be drug into the drama that seemed to surround the model, not with how well your content was doing lately. You had a huge following in the states and were starting to get attention internationally. You knew the last thing your PR manager would want to see was stories about you plastered all over the gossip pages. You had worked too hard to cultivate a wholesome reputation to be drug into a love triangle controversy, even if it ended up being manufactured by the press. You walked a fine line between wanting to be talked about and wanting to avoid being laughed at.

So when Hannah, one of your best friends from the influencer world, had invited you to tag along with her to the Chinese Grand Prix in April, you had hesitated. No one knew about you and Lando talking, not even your best friends. Sure, Lando had followed you and commented on a few of your posts but everyone chalked that up to you being friends with Hannah and Lando’s reputation to hit on pretty girls whenever he was active on social media. It hadn’t gained a ton of attention so you were able to pretty much ignore it.

But you couldn’t turn down Hannah’s invitation without raising some sort of suspicion. China had been on your bucket list of places to visit since you were little and you had enough miles saved up this year to be able make the long flight in a lie-flat first class seat with to your group of friends. You really had no excuse, so in the end you had agreed.

But now that you were here, the possibility of running into Lando in the flesh after you had ghosted him hanging heavy over your head and the crowds pressing in, you were totally regretting your life choices.

“You okay?” Hannah’s voice breaks through your racing thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

“What?” You stutter, trying to bring your focus back to where you were in the moment.

“Are you okay?” Your friend asks softly, eyeing you like she knows something is going on but can’t figure out what. “You just seem a little…tense.”

You reach up to pull your hair off your neck, suddenly feeling like your skin is just a little too tight for the rest of your body. “I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed. This place is a lot.”

Hannah’s eyes soften. She’s well aware of your anxiety and how you sometimes struggle with crowds. While she doesn’t struggle with the same issues, if there’s one thing you appreciate about your friend its that she has an uncanny ability to read your moods and empathize with you when it matters most.

“I know, but you get used to it quick. Liam has some engineering meetings before practice so he’s busy for another hour or so. Do you want to go hang out in hospitality? Get cooled down before practice?”

You adjust your sunglasses on your nose before nodding, “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m sorry, you don’t have to stick around with me all day, I know you want to be with Liam.”

Hannah waves a hand, dismissing your concern with one movement, “Stop that. That man gets so locked in before he gets into the car, he probably forgets I exist. I told him I’d be in the garage for practice but we’re free until then. Come on, we can get some content for TikTok. Didn’t you say you wanted to do a Chinese travel vlog?”

Suddenly, a blur of green and yellow catches your attention from on your left. A scooter, driven by a distracted man in a green racing suit, was flying down the sidewalk at breakneck speed headed straight for you. He was going so fast you didn’t have enough time to react once you registered what was about to happen.

You shut your eyes, bracing for impact, as a startled gasp tumbles off your lips. But the impact doesn’t come when you expect it as a strong set of hands pulls you out of the path of the scooter. The man on the scooter continues on, zipping down the sidewalk without so much as an apology as you stumble back, straight into the arms of the person that just saved you from being paddock road kill. The body is warm, muscled and the set of hands go straight to your hips, steadying you when you fight to maintain your balance.

“Oh my god!” Hannah shrieks as you struggle out of the person’s embrace, spinning around to see who you had just collapsed into.

“Jesus Christ, thank…” The words die in the back of your throat when you see the papaya and black race suit of your savior.

“You.” The British accent that you’d spent the last few weeks trying to forget sends shivers down your spine.

Shit.

“Oh. Hi, Lando.” You say sheepishly, lifting your sunglasses off your face so you can make eye contact with the driver.

“Oh hi Lando?” Hannah sputters, clearly confused. “Do you two know each other?”

“No.” You reply at the same time Lando says “Yes.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to figure out if it would be bad for your reputation if you punched him. Hannah’s eyes bounce back and forth between you and Lando, who is standing there looking just as confused as she is. If you’re not mistaken, there’s also a touch of hurt that flickers in his eyes as he looks you up and down.

“Are you okay?” Lando asks, breaking the tension.

Your eyes dip to your waist, where Lando’s hand still rests heavily on your hip. When he notices he’s still holding you, he pulls his arm back quickly, running it through his curls trying to look casual while his brows dip together, confusion still clearly settled on his handsome features.

“Um. Yeah, I am. Thank you, I was almost roadkill.” You laugh, but it comes out too shaky to be taken seriously.

Hannah crosses her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed as she tries to figure out the weird tension that has settled over the two of you.

“So, ‘yes' you two know each other but ‘no’ you don’t?” Hannah raises an eyebrow, clearly not willing to let this go.

You shoot Lando a look that could curdle milk. “It’s…complicated.” You mumble, avoiding Hannah’s gaze.

“Complicated how?” Hanna presses, her curiosity piqued.

Lando shits his weight, a nervous energy radiating off of him. “We were talking for a bit.”

“Talking? Like, flirting talking?” Hannah turns to you and you swear you see a bit of hurt in her eyes. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Guilt washes over you. You hadn’t really meant not to tell your friend, it just had never come up. “It was nothing.” You say quickly. Out of the corner of your eye you see Lando wince and your heart catches. “Just some DMs, it fizzled out after a while.”

“Fizzled out?” Lando scoffs, his frown deepening. “You ghosted me.”

“I’m sure you had your hands full with that other blonde to miss me that much, Lan.” You bite back, voice sharp.

Lando’s brows furrow, “Other bl…" He pauses, the dots seemingly connecting in hsi mind suddenly. "You mean Allie? What does she have to do with you and me?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You say with a shrug. “You looked pretty busy with her in Monaco before the season started. I just assumed you didn’t have time for me.” You try your best to sound as nonchalant as possible but you can’t keep the anger from slipping into your voice. The fact that he has a cute little nickname for her burrows under your skin more than it should.

Deep down you know you had zero claim over him, so being this angry feels over the top. You know you’re overreacting. You had never even met Lando in person before this moment, so why was the jealousy burning through your bloodstream so intense?

Hannah’s eyes dart between you and Lando, her expression a mix of confusion something else you couldn’t place. “Okay, so this is a bit more intense than I expected.” She raises her hands in surrender. “You know what? I think I’m going to go check on Liam. He’s probably wondering where I am.”

She gives you a knowing look, a look that says ‘I’ll let you sort this out but I expect a full rundown of what the fuck just happened here later tonight.’.

“Maybe you two should talk, alone. Just try not to kill each other.”

With that, Hannah turns on her heel and disappears towards the Red Bull garages, leaving you and Lando standing awkwardly in the middle of the bustling paddock. The noise of the crowd presses in on you, amping up your already high anxiety and filling the silence that stretches between you.

Lando looks at you, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. He digs his hands deep into his pockets, unsure of where to go from here. The absolute last person he’d expected to see here today was you. Finding out you were mad at him just when he had made the decision that you wanted nothing to do with him and he needed to move on was a little overwhelming. He’d been hurt when you’d stopped returning his messages and answering his calls. Frustrated that you hadn’t given him an answer when he asked you what was wrong. And then the season had started and he couldn't handle it all. It still ate at him at night, the fact that he had allowed you to slip out of his fingers, especially since firing Rich and ending things with Allie.

So maybe this was the universe giving him a second chance.

“So,” He starts, voice low. “We’re just going to pretend like nothing happened?”

You throw your arms out to your side, exasperated sigh falling from your lips. “What was I supposed to think, Lando? I open up my Instagram one morning to see a shit ton of pap photos of you and her, the day after you and I spent almost five hours on FaceTime together!”

Lando cards his fingers through his curls, “I can explain that.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure you can.”

Deep in Lando’s pocket, his phone chimes. Reluctantly he pulls it out, checking the new text message from Sophie, his press officer. “Fuck. I’ve got to go get in the car.” He sighs, scrubbing his large hand over his face. “Listen, can you please give me a chance to explain?”

You cross your arms over your chest, mirroring Hannah’s stance from just minutes before. Your first instinct is to tell him to fuck all the way off, you’ve been too careful with your reputation to be drug into any sort of drama that that girl seems to bring. Lando gives you a look though, his green blue eyes pleading with you and you’re all but powerless against it.

“Come on.” He coaxes, reaching out to brush his fingertips against your bare arm. You ignore the riot of goosebumps he leaves in his wake. “You’re going to look at me and tell me you didn’t come all the way to China, to a place where you knew I would absolutely be, not hoping to at least run into me?”

“Bold of you to assume that you even cross my mind anymore, Norris.” You snip back but your words hold no bite to them and you both know it.

Now it’s Lando’s turn to roll his eyes. “Come on, baby.” Your traitorous heart stammers but you mange an indignant look as a reaction to the nickname. “I’m done with race stuff around dinner time, let me take you out somewhere nice and we can talk. Please?”

Again with the puppy eyes. This was going to be a problem.

“Fine.” You huff after a moment. “But don’t make me regret this, Lan.”

The biggest smile you’ve ever seen crosses Lando’s face at your agreement. He reaches out, catching your waist in his hands, pulling you in for a hug. Neither of you notice the cameras pointed in your direction.

“You won’t. I promise.” He murmurs in your ear before dropping a chaste kiss on your cheek.

You don’t wipe if off.

Grinning like a fool, Lando spins on his heel before bustling off towards the McLaren garages. He’s about 30 feet away when his head swivels back, his gaze instantly finding yours. He grins again, liking that you’d been watching him go.

yourusername posted

602,928 likes liked by lando, hannahstjohn, redbullracing, and others yourusername Boston >>> Shanghai LETS GO hannahstjohn pretty girl! so glad you made the trip with meeeee user0029 my fave influencer and my fave sport?! YES PLEASE user928 i wish these brands would stop inviting random influencers to races and get some REAL FANS there instead >>>user9299 she's there with hannah, liam's girlfriend. just say you're jealous next time. user0299 ok but i need to know...is she a mclaren girlie or red bull??? >>>user454 she gives me ferrari vibes user223 lando in the likes again, huhhhhhh

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l0vergirlwrites · 3 months ago

Note

A totally random fic request but something where like reader sees like the team treats Spencer badly like interrupting him or something or like making him feel bad and the reader just like following Spencer out and like holding him I guess or something like that, sorry it’s rlly vague 😭😭

elevator sweetness ; spencer reid

synopsis: after another slightly deprecating comment was made about spencer, you offer him a shoulder to lean on & some kind words.

warnings: mentions of spencer being a bit sad, morgan making a comment about spencer (ily but leave my boy alone lmao), sorta new to the bau fem!reader, non-established relationship but future relationship is teased, fluff & slight angst themes, loosely based on s2 ep8

note: thank you for the request! i hope you like it! 💌

you first noticed it when you walked into the bullpen that morning, leather saddle bag snug on your shoulder as you beelined for your desk. you sat at the cluster of cubicle styled desks across from spencer’s, giving you a perfect view of him, which you’ve come to find is a blessing & a curse.

he had walked in moments after you, eyes drawn to the floor or inanimate objects, that curious twinkle was missing, & his soft smile was nowhere to be seen. spencer just sat at his desk, throwing himself into his work without greeting anyone or even getting a start on his morning coffee.

it made your lips pull into a small frown as you turned your gaze back onto your computer before anyone noticed you looking at him for too long.

“bau—conference room in fifteen” hotch’s voice broke through the morning chatter, the tiniest pit of dread filling your tummy after his alert. you wondered what the case was this time.

after going through your emails in a dash, you made your way to the small office kitchenette to grab a coffee before the round table, glancing spencer’s way once more. you saw derek perched by his desk, a teasing smile on his face like normal, but spencer remained rigid.

it made you frown again.

by the time fifteen minutes passed, you were in the conference room with two cups of coffee, casually placing one where spencer usually sits before the others noticed. you made sure to add lots of cream & sugar.

when spencer walked in, tight lipped & awkward, he felt a little lighter when he saw the coffee on the table. as jj grabbed everyone’s attention, his eyes fell onto you.

“thank you” he mouthed before opening the tab on the plastic lid, lightly blowing on it as jj played a video on the tv screen.

this weeks case was dealing with a kidnapping. three high-school girls from a small town, all athletes with bright futures—but they disappeared out of nowhere with odd voicemails as the only evidence to go off of for now.

“are we sure that they aren’t just going on a road trip? they said they’d be back by the weekend & their parents aren’t all that worried so—“.

cutting morgan off, spencer spoke up, much to your surprise. “but their voicemails were quite cryptic. clean cut. as if they were reading off of a script—“.

slightly rolling his eyes, morgan interrupted spencer. “you know, not every high schooler is a stickler for the rules like you were. it’s normal for teenagers to make impromptu plans while they’re young—have a little fun even”.

about to rebut his point, spencer opted to stay silent. he’s used to being picked on, jabbed a little here & there for his goody toe shoes persona around the team. but today just wasn’t the day he could brush it off easily.

noticing spencer’s body language closing in as he slightly slumped into his chair, you took your turn to speak. “morgan, spencer’s right. the girls sound almost afraid on the phone—monotone, maybe even apprehensive. plus, they both said the exact same thing to their parents—word for word. just because their parents aren’t super worried doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be” you pointed out, jj quickly agreeing with you before gideon & hotch followed suit.

the meeting soon wrapped up with a warning that the jet would be leaving in half an hour, causing the team to scramble to prepare. as spencer made his way to the elevator, you decided it was your moment just to check in with him.

“spencer!” you gently called out, seeing him stop walking & turn around to see you. it made you smile a little when you saw that he was still nursing the coffee you made for him.

saying your name in greeting, spencer & you continued to walk once you were at his side. “grabbing your go bag?” you asked & he confirmed with a nod.

“could i tag along? i have to get mine from my car too. what do you usually pack in yours?”.

as you both waited for an elevator in the busy office atmosphere, conversation came easy. you noted the way spencer spoke almost hesitantly, as if he was conscious of him rambling too much that he censored himself. you came to learn that he always packs a few books in his bag with sticky tabs to annotate—it’s become a new hobby of his.

once an elevator became free, the doors closed before anyone else could occupy it. so it was just you & spencer.

despite the decently large space, you both hovered to the centre with a few inches of personal space separating your arm from brushing his. the thought of it made a chill run up your spine.

“can i ask you something?” you fiddled with your fingers, tempted to pick off the black nail polish you wore as you looked to spencer.

you could tell he was still down in the dumps about something, but without the loud chatter of the office, a metaphorical weight was lifted off his shoulders for a moment.

“sure. what’s your question?”.

swallowing your anxiety in fear it was out of line to ask, you felt like it was right. “is it normal for the others to kinda, i dunno, make comments about you like that?”

you watched as spencer’s face sort of furrowed, clearly not expecting a question like that. he was unsure whether he should answer it honestly or brush it off. he’s gotten used to doing that.

“uh…” he licked his lips, looking away from you to think.

you cringed. “sorry if that’s weird of me to ask”.

he shook his head. “n-no, it’s okay. i-uh, just wasn’t expecting you to ask that” he scratched his neck, swallowing his own nerves as he continued to look at the metal floor of the elevator.

he wondered why it was moving so slow.

“i’m used to the comments—most are made in good fun, i know they aren’t targeted to get under my skin. but uh… people have said stuff like that, even worse, my whole life. so it doesn’t really bother me as much as it used to” he explained, tight lipped again as he nodded his head, finger drumming against the metal rail.

he knew you could see right through him though. “it doesn’t mean those comments can’t hurt sometimes though. you’re allowed to feel uncomfortable by them” you assure him, trying to validate his feelings like you wished others did for you too.

you knew exactly how he felt. different circumstances, but same feelings nonetheless.

the fragility & kindness behind your words made spencer’s chest ache as he turned his head to look at you again, seeing nothing but empathy across your features.

“i know it’s not my place, but i also know that it’s not fun for them to jab at you like that every now & then. i just wanted you to know that i…i have your back, you know… that i care”

spencer let the tiny crease in his brow dissipate, his eyes softened, & he felt a blanket of warmth spread across his body at your words. he didn’t know what he did to deserve someone so kind.

he almost felt choked up. “that’s really nice of you,” he spoke your name with such sweetness, it made your heart break into two & mend back together. “y-you don’t know how much that means to me. really”.

you gave him a warm smile in return, not realizing that your hands were just barely touching his against the metal rail. “it’s no biggie. i know you’d do the same for me” & spencer nods, affirming that what you said was true.

“i would—i-i do” he corrected, letting a smile grace his lips too. you didn’t realize how much you missed it.

“pinky promise?” you proposed, slowly lifting up your hand, pinky outstretched. you hoped it would lighten the mood a bit.

spencer took it without hesitation.

“pinky promise”.

soon enough, the elevator opened to the car park & you both walked in tandem to his car before reaching yours. more conversation was made along the way, one even included a promise that you both would sit next to each other on the jet & listen to music from an album you recommended him.

from that moment on, spencer couldn’t look at you without noticing the way your tucked your hair behind your ears, the crinkle in your eyes when you smiled, or how your laugh made his heart feel fuzzy.

he didn’t know that in this moment, he fell for you. & he wouldn’t realize it for another year.

#l0vergirlwrites💌#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fanfiction

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o0sleepingdead0o · 1 year ago

Text

Ambassador Danny AU

Just a silly thing knocking around in my brain.

Batman halted in the door of the conference room, taking in the sight of a strange being lounging imperiously in his chair. His white hair seemed to defy gravity ever so gently and his green, glowing eyes—Jason’s eyes—stared back with none of the regard or fear so many people showed towards Batman. His tanned face was speckled with tiny stars that Batman had to actively resist becoming memorized by. The boy’s choice of covering was sheening armour that refracted the light through his chest-plate of black ice. The white sleet that sharpened his knuckles seemed perfectly capable of movement despite it encasing his hands in similar fashion to the chest-plate; glassy in it’s brutal edges and as hard as the sheets that form over the coldest of lakes.

The watchtower had been invaded. Batman had questioned why the place was so cold when he’d arrived. Now he knew.

The only thing that kept Batman from immediately reacting might have—very much—had to do with how young he looked. A boy in the second half of his teens.

And the fact that several other Justice League members were at Batman’s back as he strolled further into the room, watching the boy warily.

The boy’s eyes were unconcerned as he watched the Justice League file in. Worryingly so. Who was he that he would be so unfazed, how powerful? Or was it faith he wouldn’t be harmed, taking advantage of the Justice League’s strong morals?

The teen had commandeered the chair with all the authority of a king and the confidence of one assured of their own position. He sprawled across it. The chairs were all identical of practical, unassuming make, but this boy made it look like his throne as he leaned heavily on one side and stretched one leg way on the other. A hand was extended to dangle off one chair-arm and he had a knee braced up, showing an armoured shin protecting his black, sturdy, cargo-like pants and iced boots that jagged treacherously upwards.

The boy smirked. “Took you long enough. I was getting bored.”

Batman resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his already protected ears from the unearthly static and screeching glaciers that came from the boy’s mouth. He noticed Superman flinch and his face grimace.

“Who are you?” Batman growled. This boy was obviously inhuman. He was also an unknown. Batman would be foolish to underestimate someone who had somehow infiltrated the watchtower without being seen or setting off any alerts. Who exuded too much confidence, as if the entire world was at his fingertips.

Attacking took the back-burner in favour of garnering information in such a concerning situation.

“You may address me as. . .” He contemplated a bit too much for Batman to believe whatever he would give them would be his true name. “Danny.”

“. . .Danny.”

The name was so. . .normal.

“How did you get here?” Wonder Woman asked with hints of warning and aggression.

The boy smiled. He had fangs. Too many sharp teeth. He didn’t answer and was revelling in their ignorance.

“What are you doing here?” Superman asked. It said something about Danny’s energy that even superman was being cautious about approaching.

“Waiting for you.” He smirked.

“Why?” Batman pushed as much threat and intimidation into his stance and words as he could. He usually didn’t have to think about it. “What do you want?”

Danny chuckled and a shiver ran up Batman’s spine. Goosebumps formed even through the protective layers that shielded him from the cold.

“Why don’t you sit?” The words should have been innocent. They felt like a trap. “You’ve gathered for a meeting, haven’t you?”

The league members didn’t move. Danny sighed.

“Fine, fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes and Batman was eerily reminded of how much the adolescent exasperation reminded him of his own children. Danny leaned off the chair arm to lean an elbow on the table instead, propping his chin up. He was all teeth. “The Infinite Realms wishes for peace. I’ve come to investigate the possibility of a treaty on behalf of the High King.”

<><><><>

“THERE’S A DENIZEN OF THE INFINITE REALMS IN THE WATCHTOWER??!!!”

Batman held the phone away from his face at Constantine’s uncharacteristic display of panic. It did not bode well and it settled uncomfortably in his bones.

He grunted in affirmation.

Constantine swore up and down enough to fill Alfred’s swear jar ten times over. “What do they want?! What did you say to them!? Ohhhh, bloody ****! You’ve already antagonized them haven’t you?!”

“No.” Batman ground out.

Constantine was quiet. Several seconds ticked by.

“. . .WELL?!”

“He claims the High King wants to negotiate for peace.”

There was silence on the other end. Batman usually preferred it when Constantine was quiet, but this was thick and seemed to claw out of the phone to infect the watchtower. It muffled the noises and beeps and drowned out the presence of the other league members who had stepped out of the conference room with him.

Then there was a great, controlled release of wavery air. When Constantine spoke, it was more serious than Batman ever remembered hearing him.

“Okay, okay.” Constantine mumbled to himself. “Listen closely, Bats, and repeat everything, and I mean everything, to your circus clowns.”

Superman cleared his throat. “We’re here.”

“YOU LEFT THE AMBASSADOR ALONE?!”

“Of course not! Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter are monitoring him.” Batman said.

Constantine grumble-sighed. “Good.” He mumbled. “Two of the competent ones. I don’t trust Bats not to **** this up and get us all killed.”

“What now?” Flash said.

Batman was a little offended. “Constan—“

“NO!” He yelled vehemently. He sounded a little manic. “Batsy, you have the emotional intelligence of a wet paper bag, a sad, trampled, wet paper bag with so many holes that it can’t even be considered a bag anymore, you have the emotional intelligence of wet, paper scraps and the diplomacy of a feral hyena! Unless he addresses you first, Do. Not. Initiate! Do not open your mouth! I have no faith in you whatsoever!”

“I will n—“ Batman tried to growl again, but Constantine cut him off. Again!

“No!” Constantine reiterated oh, so eloquently. “Look.” He sighed. “Getting news of the newest High King since he defeated the last one has been near impossible. All Deadman will tell me is that he’s better than the last guy and we are incredibly lucky our entire dimension wasn’t wiped out after that stunt the American government pulled with the Anti-ecto Acts.”

Batman saw some of the leaguers pale. He suddenly wasn’t feeling the best either.

“Anti-Ecto Acts?”

“Laws declaring their species non-sentient and illegal, I dealt with it, thing is, this is an extremely delicate situation.” He stressed. “We don’t know what kind of ruler he is, what little thing might set him off, and we cannot afford to set the High King off! Capiche?! It’s a good sign that he’s willing to negotiate peace, but he could change his mind. Some ghosts are very temperamental.”

“Ghosts.” Several of the leaguers repeated. Constantine let out an incredibly exasperated sound.

“Do you idiots know nothing?! Yes, ghosts! The Infinite Realms is the dimension between dimensions, the land of the dead and the never-born! They are incredibly powerful entities and many of them could level our planet easily! Whatever you do, DO NOT ask how they’ve died! It is highly taboo and you’ll get yourselves killed!” Constantine let out a stressed groan.

“I would come back and deal with this myself, but I am. . .occupied at the moment. Don’t try to negotiate without me! You lot will muck everything up! And seriously, DO NOT ASK HOW THEY’VE DIED! Keep the Ambassador happy until I can get there, convince him to stay! We might not have another chance like this, don’t annoy them, do not ignore them, and, just in general, don’t give the ambassador any reason to deliver anything negative to King Phantom and have him erase us all, got it?”

The Justice League exchanged several, stunned looks.

“Got it?”

Batman grunted.

“Good. And Bats.” Constantine added lowly. “If this fails, I am blaming you for the end of the world.”

Constantine ended the call and the phone beeped before drowning everyone in silence. The leaguers shared more looks.

“Now what?” Hal said.

#dpxdc fanfic #danny phantom #justice league #john constantine #Danny Fenton is trolling

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cece693 · 3 months ago

Text

Affectionate

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: bucky being treated like a normal being, male reader is very affectionate, kinda like tony, flirting like lil puppies

“Barnes, my sweet metal-armed dumpling, you’ve got bedhead.”

You say it with a chuckle as you effortlessly drape an arm around Bucky’s broad shoulders, and for a moment, the entire room goes silent. Natasha’s trained eyes narrow from across the conference table, ready to spring into action. Tony’s eyebrows shoot up behind his tinted glasses, and Steve actually tenses, fists tightening like he’s expecting Bucky to toss you across the room at any second. All around, the team braces themselves, anticipating a meltdown—a flashback—anything resembling the Winter Soldier they still fear might be lingering inside the man you have so casually slung your arm over.

In the resulting quiet, Bucky’s expression flickers, and for a heartbeat, you wonder if the Avengers might be right. His jaw flexes, and his fingers curl slightly before unclenching.

Then he lets out a small huff of a laugh, the corners of his lips lifting, and you feel his posture relax against your side. “Seriously, you’re making a scene,” he murmurs, quieter than usual. But there’s absolutely no bite behind his voice, no threat—just the husky edge that always manages to send a pleasant shiver through you. “Knock it off,” he adds, though there’s a ghost of a smile there.

Knock it off? Absolutely not. The man is gorgeous—dark hair still damp from a shower, the mechanical arm catching the overhead lights, his face etched with haunted lines that only make him look even more rugged and unfairly attractive. How can you possibly resist? You’re only human (albeit an Avenger-human with a penchant for tackling alien invasions and Hydra remnants). But still, you have eyes.

You just grin, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before loosening your hold. “Aww, Barnes, you know you’d miss it if I did.”

Bucky grumbles something in reply, but there’s a lightness there, an ease he didn’t carry before. The rest of the team, however, remains on full alert—like big cats itching to pounce. Steve in particular looks about two seconds away from physically peeling you off of Bucky. Even Clint, who was half-dozing in the corner, sits up, eyes keen.

“Cap,” Clint warns softly, nodding toward where your hand is still lingering near Bucky’s nape, fingertips idly tracing the spot where flesh meets vibranium plating.

Steve clears his throat. “Everything okay there, Buck?”

Everyone seems to hold their breath again, and you can practically see the tension in the air. Poor Bruce is looking uncertain, Wanda is biting her lip, and Sam’s eyebrows are drawn together in concern. They’re so worried that Bucky’s going to have an episode, or get triggered, or that he’s going to accidentally crush your bones with that metal fist if you keep…well, doing what you’re doing.

And if this were two years ago, maybe they’d be right. If this were weeks after his deprogramming, back when he couldn’t even look into a mirror without disassociating, Bucky might’ve pushed you across the room with lethal force. Or at the very least, wrenched free of your hold, stiff and wary. But they don’t see the subtle signs that you do: the tension in Bucky’s shoulders is not the tension of danger, but of mild embarrassment. He looks shy, maybe even flustered. He’s definitely not displeased. And if anything, you know he’s grateful you treat him like a normal person, not a ticking time bomb with horrifying memories.

He shrugs off Steve’s concern with a tight-lipped smirk. “I’m fine,” he says. “I’m not made of glass.”

Or vibranium, you add silently with another playful grin. You resist the urge to poke at his arm, but your fingers twitch at the thought. Next time, you promise yourself.

Tony slides a diagnostic tablet across the table as if presenting evidence. “Look, I’m all for affection, but maybe, for the sake of our dear ex-Hydra assassin’s comfort, we keep it PG-13 in the debrief?” He’s half-joking, half-serious, eyebrows shooting up when you lean closer to Bucky again.

You tilt your head at Tony. “I’m not exactly straddling him on the table, Tony. Chill.”

“Just you watch,” Sam mutters under his breath, arms folded across his chest, likely recalling a previous incident in which your casual affection got a bit…handsy. Hey, you can’t help it, Bucky’s arms are a national treasure.

From beside you, Bucky sighs. “Seriously, guys, it’s okay. This—” he flicks his eyes at the point where your forearm slides across his back “—it’s nice.” He lowers his gaze, almost bashful, but admits quietly, “Makes me feel like…y’know. Like I’m—”

“A normal dude, living a normal life,” you finish for him, your voice softer. It’s what both of you want, though neither of you outright says so in crowded company.

“Alright,” Tony relents with a theatrical sigh. “I mean, if Barnes is okay with it, I guess we can let it go.”

“Seriously, Tony,” you huff, “I’m not some savage about to devour the man.”

Bucky sends you a cheeky side glance. “Could’ve fooled me,” he grumbles, but his lips twist into an amused smirk.

“Watch it, metal dumpling,” you shoot back fondly, the new (and very ridiculous) nickname making Tony gag in mock horror.

There’s a collective groan and roll of eyes from the team, but underneath that, there’s this subtle wave of contentment. You can feel it in the air—everyone’s settling into this new normal. Sure, Bucky carries a lot of ghosts and trauma, but right now, with your arm around him, he just feels alive. Connected. Like the piece of him that’s still James Barnes is being coaxed to the surface.

And you? Well, you’re just happy to be the one to coax it out of him. Bucky might be Hydra’s ex-assassin, but you can’t help it—he’s also hot as hell, and you’re pretty sure your vision works just fine, thank you very much.

“Alright,” Steve says, clearing his throat again, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks from secondhand embarrassment. “So…mission debrief?”

“Mission debrief,” you echo. Without missing a beat, you re-sling your arm across Bucky’s shoulders, ignoring the universal eye-roll from the rest of the team. Bucky doesn’t shove you away. He doesn’t tense. He just gives your knee a quick pat under the table, and for a single, quiet second in that big conference room, you can swear you feel a little more at home.

And yeah—maybe you’ll have to tone it down for the sake of collective sanity. But then again, the look in Bucky’s eyes says he needs this just as much as you do.

So if anyone’s got a problem with it, well…they can take it up with the ex-Winter Soldier himself—and hope they can handle the glare he’ll give them for standing in the way of his self-proclaimed “annoying but sweet” Avenger.

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xshadowdelta · 8 months ago

Text

Former Manager

Part One: Back in town.

Jo Yuri x Male Reader (2.9K Length)

The abrupt movements and the deceleration sensation alerted you, waking you up. Automatically you took a quick look out through the window of your seat, the clouds gave way to a landscape that brought back many memories, it wasn’t your first time landing at the Incheon Airport.

You got off the plane, taking your suitcase ready to leave the terminal. Breathing the air of that place in an attempt to calm you down, but you failed when all your memories flooded into your brain in a succession of images.

You started to walk thinking about it thoroughly, that nerves invade your body was kind of stupid being honest, you had done this before and with a lot more pressure according to yourself, after all not everyone could boast of have been a manager for the popular girl group Iz*One.

That’s right, after committing the biggest folly of your life by deciding to move to South Korea instead of go to the college you found a miracle job, specifically being one of the Iz*One managers for 1 year and a half. That was until due to some personal reasons you were forced to return to your home country. And 4 years later here you are, back in the Asian country to resume your job as a manager.

You were surprised when Wake One Entertainment contacted you offering a new job. Apparently they didn’t have enough managers in the company due to the arrival of new groups, which caused a total restructuring of the staff, leaving Kep1er in search of a new manager. That’s where you and your good work done with Iz*One years ago came in, knowing that the new head of the staff was one of your coworkers at that time.

It was a really complicated decision to make for several reasons: 1. You hadn't spoken the language for a long period of time. 2. Take care of a group full of teenage divas wasn’t an easy job. 3. And you were comfortable in your current job. Seen this way, only a crazy person would accept that offer. Exactly what you did 5 minutes later.

You came back down to earth as the cab stopped, and you were able to see right in front of you the Wake One building. You walked inside the building and introduced yourself to the front desk indicating that you were coming for the manager vacancy, one of the receptionists guided you to the conference room where your interview would take place.

The interview was nothing more than a formality, obviously the vacancy was yours, but certain guideline had to be met.

They told you that the Kep1er girls were currently in the USA for the KCON, so you would not start working with them until the next week, once they returned.

You returned to the main lobby, the keys of your new house were given to you alongside your company car with some more documents to sign.

It was at that moment meanwhile you were signing the documents that you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name. “Manager oppa!”

You turned yourself to face the former Iz*One member and now soloist, Jo Yuri. “It is really you, manager oppa!?” She shouted in surprise, covering her mouth with her hands.

Your heart almost skipped a beat as you looked her up and down. She was no longer that little girl she used to be when you were spending your days with her. Even though she had grown up, she still had that youthful look.

“Excuse me, but…” You left the pen over the desk. “Do i know you?”

Her facial expression faded as soon as you said that, turning from surprise to annoyance.

“Do you really forgot about me, oppa!?” Her louder and offended voice made you laugh and making her even angrier.

“I couldn’t forget you so easy, Yuri.” You told her showing a smile and she sigh annoyed. “You still like teasing me. But it’s been a long time, what are you doing here?” Her tone sounded cheerful again.

“Woah, so now you’ll be managing Kep1er, they are so lucky to have you I envy them, but now I have to record my new song, hope to see you often around the company, oppa!” You said goodbye to her as you watched her to disappear when the elevator closed its doors, didn’t expect to meet one of your former members so soon.

You walked out the building to take the car and drive right to your new home, making a quick stop in a convenience store to buy some fast food for dinner accompanied by a drink.

Finally, you arrived at home, left the food bag and some papers on a nearby table and plopped down on the sofa visibly tired, jet lag was taking its toll.

Even so, you found the strength to browse through some things and investigate more about your new members while you had dinner. You were relieved to know that they were fewer than the last time, although from what you could see in some videos they seemed louder, especially that little girl named Hikaru.

You finished for today, noticing that it was already dark outside and decided to take a long relaxing shower before getting into bed, whereas you tried to fall asleep your memories of years ago with the Iz*One girls came flooding back.

After your step down you had been following from the distance the evolution of every member career, and you couldn't be more proud of each one of them, but seeing them now in real life would be a different feeling.

Then you remembered the brief encounter with Yuri in the company, you began to think about how much she changed in these years, she was one of the younger members back then, but now she seemed so much mature.

You couldn’t help but think how much her body had changed this time, she was all grown up and transform into a real woman. You even noticed how good she fit in those jeans she was wearing today that enhanced her hips and showed off her ass.

BUT WHAT THE HELL I AM EVEN THINKING! You shouted in your mind sitting up in the bed breathing heavily, how you could be thinking about her in that way, about one of the girls you took care for almost two years, the one you practically treated like a younger sister.

You lay back down in bed again, looking at the ceiling and then looked down at your pelvic area, noticing the big erection that had formed under your pants. “I must be sick.” You whispered, slipping your hand under your clothes, trying to stimulate yourself before falling asleep.

The next morning you made your way to the company, but first you took a shower and had breakfast that only consists of a coffee cup and a couple of cookies. The biggest part of the day happened in the office, you had so much work to do before Kep1er returned from their activities.

Around lunchtime someone knocked to your door, you stretched out on the chair giving way to the person who has knocked. “Oppa, let’s have lunch together!” Yuri exclaimed showing her head out the door.

She burst into your office carrying a heavy bag that lifted it to your eyes level.

“Yuri…”

“I assumed that you'll have a lot of work in your first day, and you always insisted me on not skipping meals, so it’s my time to pay you back.” she said with a big smile. She had touched you there.

“I really missed tteokbokki.” You said eating the food. Yuri was sitting in the chair in front of you, she wasn’t eating but admiring you. “Do I have to remind you that you also have to eat?” You scolded her, but she just laughed at it. “Don’t worry about me, I want to eat other type of food…” “Which one?” You asked, taking one more fried chicken piece. “You.” Hearing that made the piece of chicken slip on your chopsticks and roll off the desk, you couldn’t say anything, you were petrified.

“You spend a lot of time with Yena, now you also replicate her stupid jokes.”

“It’s not a joke, oppa.” For the first time ever you could see an unusual expression on her face, one you have never seen before, what was going on with her?

“Yuri, stop this joke now, it’s not funny…” “I’ve already told you, it’s not a joke…” She said standing up from her chair and crawled under your desk, reaching you.

“Yuri! What are you doing?”

“You are so tense, oppa, you should relax.” At this point she was fully under your desk reaching your legs and touching between them, why was this happening to you?

“I always thought that the first one to do something like this with you would be Eunbi unnie, years ago I found out she was talking about it together with Hyewon unnie and Chaeyeon unnie.” Hear that made you open wide your eyes, it couldn’t be true. “It’s kind of normal, a young women group with raging hormones and such a young manager, kind and attractive, it’s every girl’s dream.”

But she was right, back then you were too much young to managing a group, actually you still are today, even Eunbi was older than you. That’s why you considered all of them as your sisters, and that’s why this situation was so complicated.

“Yuri…we both knows this is so wrong.” You tried to reason with her.

“You are not my manager anymore and we both are adults, but mostly important…” She touched the huge bulge that had already formed under your pants. “You really desire it, don’t you?”

“Yuri, please, anyone could come in at any moment.” Your words were useless, she was already unbuckling the belt of your pants, and you couldn’t or rather didn’t want to do anything to stop her. A few seconds later you could felt how your penis was set free.

“IT’S SO BIG!” She exclaimed, amazed by the size of your dick, making you shift restlessly in your seat.

“Lower your voice, someone could hear you.” You scold her and became more and more anxious as you looked towards the door of your office.

“Sorry, it’s just…it’s incredible oppa.”

Her eyes couldn't be apart from your dick, she was totally hypnotized looking at it, but suddenly she started to massage your penis with her hands, making you moan.

She ran her tongue all over your length, from the tip to your balls and repeated this for a while, at each repeat your cock was more and more wet and your knuckles were turning white due to the strength you were grappling to the chair armrest.

She looked at your face still kneeling down ad if she was asking for permission to continue, you succumbed to the temptation, you had already fallen time ago, and nodded your head. Then she opened her mouth and put every inch of your cock she could inside her. She was struggling to make you be fully inside her mouth, but you were so much huge to her, so she decided to move her tongue around the part of your dick that was already inside.

You couldn’t describe what you were feeling at that moment, it was the nearest to being in pleasure paradise you never experienced. Yuri’s tongue didn’t stop moving over your penis, constants moves that went in unison with your moans.

She made an effort to make you fit completely in her mouth, you looked at her, noticing her cheeks filled with your cock. You let out a loud moan as the tip of your cock brushed against her throat.

She peeled herself off you for air, gasping visibly and with a large thread of saliva coming out of her mouth, masturbating you meanwhile she tried to recover.

“How the hell are you so good at this?” She smiled, taking that as a compliment. “I’ve dreamed a lot of times with this moment, I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s certainly better than masturbating by myself like last night.” You mentioned out loud as if you were talking to yourself. It took you a second to realize your mistake.

“Wait, what I wanted to say was…”

“I see.” She cut you off. “Manager oppa is a dirty man who has always thought about having me like this with him.”

“NO!” You quickly denied provoking her loud laughs.

“But it makes me happy, because you were always good and kind to me, so it’s my time to make oppa’s fantasies come true” She said bringing your cock closing to her mouth once again.

“What you mean?” You asked when a sinister smiled was formed on her face.

“Fuck my mouth, oppa.”

And there you lost the last shred of self-control you had, if you still had any.

As soon as she resumed the blowjob, you put one of your hands behind her head, making her swallow the entire of your length. Yuri supported her hands on your chair, trying to follow with her head the pace that you were now setting.

You could hear how she was choking on your cock every time your hands down her head into it. A bit worried, you tried to be less rude and give her a rest, but her hands stopped you, telling you that she was enjoying this as much as you.

“My god, Yuri...just like that…” You kept moaning, grabbing her hair that was falling into her forehead at the same time you started to move your hips making you go deeper on her mouth, fucking her throat.

She looked at you with fire in her eyes, telling you with her gaze that she wanted even more, you didn’t hesitate and kept fucking her mouth more aggressively.

You let her go, giving her time to catch her breath, her eyes were watering, and her makeup was totally ruined. It was the hottest thing you had ever seen in your life.

You bent down to lift her chin and kiss her passionate for a while until you separated from her and leaned back in your seat. You took your own penis in your hands, offering it to her.

“Finish the job.”

She immediately went back to sucking you desperately, her mouth was already habituated perfectly to your size, so you could notice how she was improved by the time pass.

You took her hands, forcing her to satisfy you using only her head. Sometimes it would slip out of her mouth and she would struggle to suck it back in, completely possessed by lust.

Her face was between your hands now, you couldn’t stop admiring the way she was sucking you, she placed your penis into her right cheek then you touched the resultant bulge, she stopped then and let your dick rest in her mouth closing her eyes enjoying your caresses.

If it were up to you, you would have stayed like this forever, but unfortunately it was time to end.

“Make sure to swallow it all.” You warned moving your hips faster feeling your load concentrating on your tip letting you know you were ready for the shot.

“YURI!” You screamed, unable to hold back any longer, reaching the orgasm and shooting your cum straight down her throat.

She did her best to hold it all in, but at the end a bit of cum dripped out of her mouth and ran down her chin to finally fall to the office floor.

The rest of your cum was still inside her mouth, she stepped back and opened her mouth to show you the amount of cum you gave to her. You watched her swallow all your cum at once, and that made you feel hornier than ever.

“Good girl.” You smiled at her.

She smiled you back and stood up, grabbing her bag to pull out a small makeup set, and trying to fix the mess you both made on her.

“Good as new.” She said, looking at herself in the small mirror. “Thanks for the meal oppa, hope we can repeat.” And she winked at you, making you come back to reality.

“Yuri, this was amazing, believe me, but it can’t happen again, or I will be in problems.”

“You don’t have to worry, I’ll make sure no one would discover us and…” Her cheeks turned red for a second.

“And?”

“I was thinking, maybe oppa can teach me a lot of things…” Oh, she was talking on that sense.

Your cheeks went also full red color and your brain started to malfunction, trying hard to formalize an excuse, a reason to refuse while she headed towards the door.

“Oh, I almost forget about it.” She stopped in the doorway.

“I told the girls about you, and they want to see you, Eunbi unnie will host a dinner party for us tonight in her house, you can’t miss it!” She said cheerful before leaving the office.

“Great, just what I needed.” You mumbled to yourself in an ironic way, throwing yourself back in the chair, noticing that you still had your member free, and hurried to get dressed again.

You slammed your face against the desk causing a louder sound and let it out a big sigh. “I’m going to get fired.”

#kpop smut #izone smut #yuri smut #male reader #smut #jo yuri smut

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xneens · 2 years ago

Text

leaked nudes

pt. 2

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: while looking at crime scene pictures on your phone, aaron swipes too far left and discovers some … sexy photos.

word count: 1.4k (short one)

warnings: nudes, masturbation, aaron jizzing in his pants like a teen, pervy aaron

This particular case had the whole team restless. Other than one lead that turned out to be useless as the suspect had an airtight alibi, there was nothing else that pointed where the unsub was. Thankfully, it seemed like his time in between kills was increasing, though that did very little to ease the team.

The precinct was almost empty, save for the few officers working the night shift and the team spread out around the conference room. Rossi was nursing a coffee, wishing it was whiskey. Emily sprawled out on the floor, the case file resting on her stomach. JJ sat sleeping in her chair, a blanket laid over her. Spencer was going over the details of the case while Derek stared at his file, unmoving.

You were positive he had fallen asleep with his eyes open.

Aaron sat next to you, a cup of coffee in his hand while he reviewed the case. You had given up trying to focus, taking a break as you played Tetris on your phone. Every few minutes, Aaron would glance at you before smiling and focusing back on his file.

After losing another game, you placed your phone on the table, leaning back in exhaustion. Looking around you, you were certain everyone except Rossi, Spencer, and Aaron were clocked out for the night. Derek was about ten minutes away from smacking his head on the table when his head slips from his hands.

Aaron flips through his file, brows furrowing. He looks around the messy table, searching for something in particular as you watched him with curiosity. “Where are the crime scene pictures from this morning’s victim?”

“Sheriff said their printer broke so they couldn’t print them out. I took a few pictures on my phone if you want to see them.” You motioned to your phone, yawning. Looking over at JJ, you resisted the urge to snatch the blanket from her.

He picks up your phone, swiping. “What’s your password?”

“Twelve thirty-four.”

Aaron paused, his lips twitching as he turned to look at you. “One, two, three, four?”

“It’s not like I have anything to hide,” you grumbled, ignoring his soft chuckle.

He put in the passcode, bringing him to the unclosed game of Tetris you were previously playing. Aaron couldn’t help but be amused at the high score before closing out and opening your photos. In your recents were the crime scene pictures he was looking for.

Aaron had swiped through the photos, trying to find a deviation from the killer’s MO but it looked the same as his previous victims. Maybe you had taken too many pictures of the body because he kept swiping left, looking at all the angles you had taken. The crime scene pictures had to end eventually but he was too sleep deprived to realize he’d eventually come across one of your other photos.

So he wasn’t prepared when he swiped to the left and instead of being met with another photo of the victim, it was one of you in skimpy clothing. Thankfully, he hadn’t been drinking his coffee as he saw it since he still managed to choke on his own saliva. Aaron’s eyes widened at the risque picture, sitting up, suddenly alert.

During him looking at the crime scene pictures, you had gotten up and walked to the vending machines. From where he sat, he could see you kick the machine in hopes of free food. The only one to witness his change of behavior was Rossi as Spencer was too engrossed in his reading, who had raised an eyebrow at his reaction.

In the photo, you were in a lacy black bra with a matching thong, bent over your bed. You had taken the picture facing the mirror, your back arched and ass up–on your knees and your clothing barely covering your essentials. Aaron swore he could see your nipples through the laced bra.

Curious, and driven by his hardening cock, Aaron swiped more. His breath hitched at the site of you topless, with just a pair of boxers on. A pair of his boxers. He remembered you shamelessly asking him for some shorts out of his go bag as you had forgotten to repack your sleep clothes and he had given you his boxers, blushing all the while.

As he stared at your breasts, he grew hard. He knew he should stop and close out, respecting your privacy and all, but he couldn’t. He physically couldn’t bring himself to look away let alone put the phone down.

He swiped again, this time you covered your bare breasts with one hand. You lay on your bed, naked yet what Aaron desperately wanted to see was covered by a discarded shirt that laid between your legs. The sun hit your body right, sunbeams illuminating your hair and despite the sensual position, he couldn’t help but think of how beautiful you are.

Looking up, he saw you were still bullying the vending machine and he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. He didn’t want you to see him being … perverted was the only word that came to him that described the situation perfectly.

Aaron couldn’t meet Rossi’s eyes as he took a sip of his coffee, careful to swallow it right. He pushed the chair into the table, concealing his rock-hard cock. His polyester suit pants rubbed against his cock, and he hissed quietly at the friction, wanting to head to the bathroom with your phone in hand to fix his situation.

He remained seated, pulling up your phone again in the hopes that he looked like he was going through the crime scene pictures, the reason you granted him permission to look through your phone.

He’s thinking about stopping, his finger shaking, urging him to swipe one more time while a small part of him screams to stop. Aaron swipes anyways.

His exhale is ragged as he sees your pussy for the first time. The video plays on mute and he almost combusts right then and there as you slowly finger yourself. You’re in a hotel room, your shirt bunched around your tits, a hand playing with a nipple. Aaron watches your index finger enter your dripping cunt, the wetness visible on camera. He has to bite his fist as you slowly slid it in and out, biting your lip at the feeling.

As you take your finger out, he watches your hand pinched your nipples, eyes narrowing at the shirt you had on. As you inserted a second finger into your sopping pussy, Aaron realized it was his shirt. A small, barely audible groan escaped his lips at the revelation. Video you had arched your back, mouth opening as you fucked yourself with two fingers. He could barely keep it together at the thought of you wearing his shirt as you fingered yourself.

He can’t take his eyes off your show, unknowingly palming himself with his free hand. Aaron watches in awe as you pump your fingers faster, unable to decide whether to watch the ecstasy on your face or your pussy swallowing your fingers in greed. The video is a minute from ending and he’s mesmerized at the screen.

So mesmerized he hadn’t noticed you come back into the room with a bunch of snacks in your arms. He jumped slightly as you dropped the snacks onto the table, quickly closing out your photos and placing your phone on the table.

You smiled at him, noticing the redness in his cheeks and ears. “I come back from battle with a feast.”

He nods, subtly fixing his pants under the table. Aaron doesn’t dare speak a word, knowing well enough that his mouth was dry.

Picking up a bag of goldfish, you threw it at Spencer’s face, breaking him out of his own world before getting a bag of Chex Mix and handing it out to your boss. “Here, Hotch.”

Your hand touches his as you give him the snack. From the video, a small touch and you saying his name, he cums in his pants. His hands wrap tightly around the bag, Chex Mix flying to the floor as the bag pops. His climax hits him hard, spurts of his cum wetting his pants and euphoria washing through him in powerful waves.

When he comes down from his high, he sees the whole team wake up, staring at the snack littering the floor and table. You glanced at him, confused, grimacing at the mess.

Aaron cleared his throat, slowly putting the bag on the table. “I don’t like Chex Mix.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds #literally wrote this instead of sleeping

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letoasai · 2 years ago

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dp x dc Chronos part 2

Part 1 and Part 3

The Justice League sat in the Watchtower, some of them at least. The meeting was meant to be a quick one, only certain members in attendance to make sure they were all on the same page after the debrief of the last mission. Not all of them were necessary and most were usually busy.

Today Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Flash and Green Lantern were in the middle of wrapping things up when the alert sounded. The siren blared twice before the red lights in the corner of each room flashed in an emergency.

“What in the world…” Flash grumbled but was obviously the first to the controls to look for the problem. None of the main alarms had been triggered, none of the doors messed with. No unusual motion noted in parts of the station that were currently vacant. “Weird.”

“What is it?” Batman was next beside him, arms crossed as he peered at the screen with narrowed eyes.

“It’s the sensors.” Flash said. “We’re picking up some kind of interference.”

“Way up here? What kind?” Green Lantern asked, he’d moved to one of the wide windows of the viewing deck as if he would be able to see something approaching. As things were, there was nothing but the normal vastness of space with Earth to one side.

“No idea.” Flash said. “Never seen something like this before.”

“Any idea on a location?” Superman asked, appearing by Green Lantern’s side.

Flash just clucked his tongue, hitting buttons much faster than a normal person. It was almost an irritation that he had to wait for the computer to keep up with him. “I mean, there’s nothing exactly to track yet.”

“An anomaly then.” Wonder Woman said, leaning back against the conference table they’d all just been sitting around. “Something natural?”

“There’s nothing natural about this.” Batman said, tone skeptical as he gazed at the screens.

“Gonna side with that bat on this one.” Flash said, “It’s more like a warning before anything happens. Something setting off the sensors but nothing else? Feels like it was on purpose.”

Green Lantern rolled his eyes. “What, like something’s knocking before they make themselves known?”

Before anyone could even offer their opinion on what they thought of something so ridiculous, a spark of green ripped through the air like lightning. Just as quickly it spread out into an obvious portal. Every member of the Justice League sprang into position, circling the phenomenon to block it in from every direction. Things like this shouldn’t have been possible, but it wasn’t the first time an intruder had gotten creative to get inside the Watchtower.

Without any fanfare, a man stepped out. They presumed it was a man anyway. He was dressed in mostly shades of purple other than his leather boots and gloves. He was covered by a cloak and hood, but when he looked up, it was hard to say what about him was the most unsettling. The red eyes. The blue skin. The pendulum clock that set back into his chest so far that he could only be missing crucial organs.

“Who are you?” Superman demanded, quickly trying to assess if there would be a fight or not.

“How did you get here?” Batman said right after, gravel tone somehow more frightening because he was calm.

The intruder just gestured with his thumb at the portal behind him. “Thought it was rather obvious.”

“Your purpose?” Wonder Woman asked, looking relaxed but her body was tense and ready to react in a moments notice.

“My purpose?” He chuckled quietly. In his hand was a staff they’d almost missed before, the top of it cradling a clock. It seemed to be a theme given the number of watches and clocks he wore. “I’ve come to call in a favor. The Justice League owes me several.”

“We owe you? Ppfff. Yeah right. We don’t even know who you are.” Flash rolled his eyes.

The intruder turned to the Flash, his brow raised. “Speedster, with the amount of times you’ve dabbled in the time stream, you alone owe me your life a fair few times.”

“Time, huh?” Green Lantern looked him over. There were a lot of clocks... “Guess that’s your schtick.”

He chuckled again. “I go by many names, only one will be relevant to you today.” He turned his attention onto Wonder Woman who squared up under his gaze. If she was going to be his focus then she’d take him head on.

“And?” She arched a brow at him. “What name may we call you?”

He looked amused, red eyes filled with mirth. “You, Diana, may call me grandfather.”

The room stilled, the others looking around in varying degrees of confusion while Wonder Woman just paled.

“Chronos. God of time…” she muttered, making it very clear to the team what they were dealing with. A God.

“I go by master of time these days, but yes. I am that Chronos. I have a task for you, Diana. One i do not think you will turn down but i’ll give you the illusion of choice.” Chronos said, the minute and hour hands on his staff moving strangely.

“You’re a god, and you come to us for help?” Batman asked, unimpressed no matter the glowers he was being sent by the others.

“You are the Justice League, aren’t you?” Chronos looked pleased. “Righting wrongs. Defending Earth. Justice is in the name and everything.”

He didn’t talk like a god. He didn’t even talk as formally as Wonder Woman herself tended to occasionally.

“Doing tasks for you is asking for trouble.” Wonder Woman muttered. She’d heard stories, so many stories.

Chronos shrugged. “Time is messy. Keeping it in line is difficult. Especially when there are those who mess with it who should not.” He was not above verbally throwing speedsters under the bus.

“What do you want?” Green Lantern asked, obviously suspicious but paying very close attention.

“Simple.” Chronos answered, still looking at his granddaughter. “You will take custody of your uncle for a time. He needs a safe place to rest and live.”

The silence that followed was loud, no one knowing what to make of that. Wonder Woman herself looked puzzled.

“Are you claiming a sibling of Zeus needs a babysitter?”

Chronos hummed. “He is my son though he holds no biological relation to your father, i suppose.”

“Then how is he her uncle?” Flash asked, with a hint of sass.

“You can ask Batman how it works.” Chronos mused, saying all he would say on the matter but that was enough.

Wonder Woman couldn’t fathom what kind of person her grandfather would see fit to adopt. “Are you going to tell me more?”

“Telling you more would imply you were agreeing to the task.”

She tsked. “None of your word games. I want to know what i could be walking into.”

Chronos never once looked threatened or put out, he did however, appear to look a few years older than he had when he’d first appeared. “He recently needed to be removed from his home for his safety. He can easily visit me but staying with me long term at this time is not beneficial to him for health reasons.”

Superman frowned. “Removed from his home? How old is he?”

“Sixteen. If that is all you need to know, i will fetch him. It may take some time for him to regain consciousness.” Chronos said.

“He’s been hurt?” Batman was frowning at the thought, looking more and more unhappy as the conversation progressed.

“I did say he was removed from his home.” Chronos said, almost flippantly as he stepped back into his glowing green portal. It remained open, everyone exchanging looks.

“Diana, is this a good idea?” Superman asked, willing to accept her judgment. Greek gods were more her wheelhouse.

“Chronos was a titan. Is a titan?” She frowned. “His power is immense for a being thought to be killed.”

“Something about him is off.” Batman agreed. “He was not worried at all. That is someone aware they have the upper hand.”

Wonder Woman just nodded her agreement. Chronos was the god of time. There was no telling what he knew. “I’ve never met him before.”

“Hell of a time for family reunions.” Flash snarked, heading back to the controls to see what readings they could get on the floating portal. It was obvious each of them wanted to study it in their own way. Scans and samples were first on their minds but it was clearly some kind of magic they weren’t familiar with.

It was almost a shame there wasn’t a single member from JLD currently in the Watchtower. They might have been able to provide answers.

Before much of anything could be done, Chronos returned, somehow looking several years younger than when he first appeared. In his arms was a lanky teen, cradled carefully as if he were fragile. He was equally a sight that left the League speechless. He wasn’t blue, in fact he looked more or less human other that the freckles that shined.

Superman was the one to immediately note they were constellation patterned.

His hair was a stark white that wisped and flowed as if he were under water. His clothes were strange, a detailed variation of an old hazmat suit, all done in black and white. Floating above his head was a crown that didn’t seem to know if it wanted to be on fire or covered in ice. It bobbed back and forth and even did a slow flip in the air but never left the area about the boy’s head.

When no one uttered a word, Chronos took that as permission to begin the introductions. “Diana, this is your uncle. Danny Phantom. Son of the Stars. The Personification of Balance. The Ghost King. High King of the Infinite Realm.”

“He’s a king?” Batman frowned. “He’s a boy.”

“He could be both, Bats. He’s got a crown.” Flash chuckled softly.

Chronos shared his amusement. “I did say he was only sixteen.” The god paused for a moment as the teen twisted in his arms, his face pressed against Chronos’ shoulder and a hand lightly pressed against the door of the clock embedded into the man’s chest.

The fact that, even asleep, the boy was comfortable in the gods arms didn’t go unnoticed.

“Is he injured?” Wonder Woman asked. They’d gone over this already but he didn’t look actively wounded. He seemed to be sleeping only.

Chronos grunted once. “One form heals faster than the other. He needs rest, ambient ectoplasm which he knows how to get on his own, and food. He can answer your questions if he feels like it.”

“If he feels like it?” Green Lantern frowned.

“He’s the King.” Chronos’ lips twitched in amusement again. “If he decides to tell you more, or seek help, that is his decision.”

“Seek help?” Batman’s eyes were narrowed. “Seek help for what?”

Chronos approached and shifted the teenager into Wonder Woman’s arms. His crown shifted back and forth but never left the teen. The grip he had on the god wasn’t noticed until he tried to pull away and Chronos needed to carefully extract the boy’s hand.

Ignoring Batman, he pressed on. “He’ll need to follow up with his doctor by the end of the week. He’ll know how to do that. If he doesn’t, his doctor will come to him. That should be incentive enough.”

“Does he know you’re dropping him off here?” Superman asked, brows knitted together in concern. The heroes had been expecting a fight, not to be handed a royal teen.

“He has a fondness for for space, so you might want to let him wake up here.” Chronos said instead, ignoring that question too. He was growing older again, a short, white beard starting to form.

“How long will he need to be in my care?” Wonder Woman asked, noting the boy weighed very little in her arms. In sleep his features were soft, hopefully he was as sweet as he looked.

“Good luck.” Chronos said, staff reappearing in his hand now, turning back to the portal without giving her an answer.

“Hey! Wait!” Flash yelled but for once, he was too slow, the god and the portal disappeared.

Five members of the Justice League just stood in a mild stupor, their attention shifting to the sleeping teen.

“Well…” Superman muttered.

Wonder Woman looked at the boy, floating hair and crown moving in tandem. “I’ll set him down. We’ll see if he can answer any of our questions when he wakes up.”

“You gonna call him Uncle Danny?” Flash asked, not bothering to hide his smile.

Wonder Woman just ignored him and turned to stride off towards the med-station. -------------------------

------------------------- No idea at all if i’ll continue this. If anyone else wants too, go for it. ^_^

@markus209

#dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #clockwork #justice league #Looks like Wonder Woman is Danny's guardian now #Danny Phantom #wonder woman

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sightseertrespasser · 22 days ago

Text

Odds of Survival Part 8

Per usual, the tf mecha au was spawned by @keferon

Prowl and the flyt he said he didn’t want: “It’s not an ESA, it’s a tool for detective work that runs on food and affection.”

Anyways why do pets always look like their owners?

———————————————————————

Prowl had approximately 6 breems before Elita finished cleaning her skull.

The tactician added 4 additional breems to account for time spent in adding the piece to her skull throne. On average, Elita One spent between 8 to 13 breems total on “personal art projects” as a way to unwind after intense battles.

As soon as Prowl was within comms range, he had sent an encoded message to Red Alert suggesting Breakdown intended to plant listening devices on the exterior of the Lost Light.

Nevermind the fact they were working on the same damn side.

That trick would keep the mech busy for at least 5 breem.

Typically, Prowl was the first to defend Red Alert as an invaluable head of security. His paranoia secured their defenses so well, security chief had completely countered every infiltration attempt by the Functionalists to date. That said, the price of privacy for their ship was Red Alert having a total monopoly on it instead.

The distraction was not only so Prowl could have a single minute of peace, but also to ensure the security officer did not interrogate an injured and highly unpredictable mech.

Because Jazz might actually give Red Alert a spark attack. (;7%)

Prowl tried to rub away the ache between his optics. Tacnet thrumming angrily with pent up, unfinished calculations. Most of which were completely defunct now thanks to the violator of numerical probability sitting in the medbay.

Jazz…

Fragging Jazz.

Prowl shut the door to his office. He could feel his helm getting warm again. He’d need to take what time he could to sort his processor before the logic cascades that had been accumulating since he found the mech became too much to manually keep on pause.

Luckily, the tactician had discovered a secret technique to unraveling Tacnet build up without requiring a constant cycling of industrial grade coolant.

Prowl unlocked the wardrobe-like habitat next to his desk.

A faintly cool breeze sighed from within, as the thawing process completed. Uncurling in response to the change of stimuli, a flyt woke from brumation to look at her praxian with bleary eyes.

“Hello Green.” Prowl eased a servo beneath the flyt. “we have much to discuss.”

As Green tucked herself against the ambient warmth of his frame, Prowl activated the large screen built into the adjacent wall.

“I met someone today.”

Tapping away, creating categories, connection points and theories arranged by probability, Prowl slowly filled the screen with a tree of possibilities.

All the while, conferring with Green to ensure his thoughts stayed at a conversational pace, rather than whirl through the labyrinth of his mind at breakneck speeds.

“-and then, he gave me his designation number, except it’s just a completely nonsensical string of seven numbers!”

Green squawked at the audacity of the mech.

“He did space out the numbers while reciting it. Two eight four, pause, four three four, pause, five five zero eight.” The praxian typed in the numbers, adding dashes where appropriate.

He muttered, mostly to himself, “This had better not be some sort of prank.”

As Prowl continued to verbally filter through his mental evidence locker, Tacnet finally straightened out the concrete math of the situation.

“Jazz is either an alien or a lost government experiment. Alien 57%, cybertronian 43%” The screen automatically supplied a pie chart, superseding several lesser graphs beneath it.

Prowl tilted his helm back and sighed, expelling all the hot air he’d holding behind locked vents at once.

Tacnet had finally. Finally, attached a precentiall figure to Jazz’s existence. The sheer relief of that knot untangling was better than any oil bath. Rolling his shoulders and neck, Prowl continued.

“There are two schools of thought regarding The Jazz Situation.” Prowl divided the board in two beneath the chart.

“The first, was that Jazz is a wholly alien mechanical lifeform, and it is through convergent design that he happens to closely resemble a cybertronian. Albeit with various physical abnormalities.”

Green squawked.

“Precisely. Until the language barrier is further overcome, we cannot rule out the second theory either. That Jazz is a creation of the Functionalists. It would account for the physical abnormalities while removing a significant amount of uncertainty the Alien Theory comes with.”

Prowl gathered a small bit of skitter. Green didn’t have much appetite immediately after waking, but the prospect of food still served as positive reinforcement for her “help”.

Ostensibly, caring for the flyt was supposed to take Prowls processor off of work. Jokes on his government assigned therapist, Green was a fantastic assistant and confident.

While he did care for his brothers, Smokescreen was explicitly unhelpful when Prowl latched onto something intellectually stimulating. Constantly cajoling him into going to bars or casinos or wherever else the elder Praxian considered “actually stimulating”.

And Bluestreak, meanwhile, was a mech physically incapable of keeping a secret.

“You don’t try to get me overcharged or tell everybody about the Mesothulas Incident.” The tactician cooed while scritching the underside of Greens beak.

Nevermind it was the same night.

Green trilled happily at the attention and praise, waking up more thoroughly.

“I’ll see about introducing you later. Jazz shows no discomfort concerning organics and I predict a strong likelihood he will appreciate your work.”

Just as Prowl was about to close the theory board, a comm came through, making him pause with a servo still hovering over the screen.

[VELOCITY]: Update about the patient for you sir.]

Speak not of Unicron lest he appears.

[PROWL]: Go ahead. Do you need me to come back to the medbay?]

[VELOCITY]: No, he’s not displaying any adverse behavior you warned me about. His common is very rough though and he’s definitely struggling to understand my questions and clearly articulate his answers. Outside of that, the patient seems fairly relaxed actually.]

Rough? Jazz had been making steady progress with his language acquisition. He should be capable of understanding and answering Velocity’s questions with 76% accuracy.

[PROWL]: He did suffer a helm injury, though I am certain you’ve taken that into account already.]

[VELOCITY]: I already ran a simple cognitive test and he passed without issue. I’d have to open his helm up to make sure, but he otherwise seems completely fine mentally.]

Prowl settled himself at his desk, tapping the surface absent mindedly.

[VELOCITY]: His other vitals are what concerns me however. By cybertronian medical standards, you brought me a talking corpse.]

Prowl stopped tapping.

[PROWL]: Elaborate.]

[VELOCITY]: The patient has no energon, no nanites, and no spark signature. He’s absolutely covered in the tiniest welds I’ve ever seen, which I should not be able to see if he had even 5% of the nanites a healthy mech should have.]

[PROWL]: Does he require more intensive medical treatment?]

[VELOCITY]: That’s a bit complicated to answer. He’s an alien so I’m not sure what his baseline for healthy is supposed to be. And if what you say about prior medical abuse is true, I don’t think he knows either.]

[VELOCITY]: He’s taking repairs like a champ so far. I can see he’s had a ton of previous repairs that all look clean and well executed despite being done without anesthetic.]

There are other kinds of avoidance than just physical aversion. Jazz is being compliant to get through the repairs quickly but faking confusion to avoid deeper medical questioning 88%.

[PROWL]: Unless it is to ask for consent for a procedure, you may desist questioning the patient for medical information. Rely on your own observations and expertise to form any pertinent theories.]

[VELOCITY]: Understood. The patient has turned down any deeper scans around his helm and chassis and I don’t want to push it on a first time check up. I’ve finished fixing his feet and the replacement part for his shoulder is almost done being machined.]

[VELOCITY]: I want to deal with his visor and helm sooner rather than later, but that’ll take a much more thorough scan to deal with. That’s all I have to update so far. His arm won’t heal on its own so I need to concentrate on rewiring the sensory network manually now.]

[PROWL]: Understood. Contact me immediately if anything changes.]

One more horrifying concept to add to the list. He was completely and utterly reliant on potentially manipulative doctors to fix even the most minute scraps and pains. No wonder Jazz had the pain tolerance of a Titan.

Prowl went to pull his data pad from subspace to update his Jazz Theory Board and stopped short with a full body cringe.

He gingerly took out Jazz’s missing shoulder and placed it on the table.

Prowl shuttered his optics.

The fact he forgot he had another mechs shoulder on his person was a testament to how badly he needed to defrag tonight. He briefly considered comming Velocity, but didn’t want to interrupt her operation on delicate wiring. Besides, if Jazz lacked a self repair system, then it wouldn’t matter if the piece was original or machine made.

It was such a fundamentally wrong concept, Prowl was unsure whether he’d prefer that to be Jazz’s natural state (51%) or a condition inflicted on him by whatever sadists created him (49%).

The tapping sound of beak on metal pulled Prowl back into the room.

“Green, do not.” He said sternly, lifting the flyt away from her object of fascination. She looked at him with pitifully wet eyes at the unhappy tone.

The praxians wings drooped. With some difficulty, Prowl attempted to project his EM field in something like “Your actions displeased me but I harbor no ill will towards your being. I am simply under a significant mental load and find the prospect of you attempting to eat a piece of someone’s body fairly distressing and ask that you discontinue that behavior and not act on any future impulses to put foreign objects in your mouth.”

What he got was a wobbly Meehm-blah-sorry-sad.

Flyts were supposedly capable of picking up on EM fields (12%). Prowl suspected Green was simply quite good at interpreting his body language and tone (88%).

In either case, Green responded by attempting to groom his plating, cooing softly. Organic EM fields were small and alien, but with practice and exposure one could begin to map one’s field to cybertronian equivalents. Green radiated a lightly brushing sympathy of sad and want-happy.

Prowl gave up on his field projection practice, and idly returned Greens affection with physical pets. If that damn therapist asked, he’d count it towards his quarterly goals.

That mech bothered him. Not just because he put limits on his workflow or for the one sided glaring contests Prowl would enact during their sessions. But because for the life of him Prowl could never remember his name. And that missing data point drove Tacnet crazy.

Everytime Prowl tried to investigate where the therapist even came from, something always came up distracting him from the task.

In a moment of determination, Prowl reached for his pad to look up his own therapists name on the ship’s registry and paused mid action.

The tactician turned his gaze back to the morbid weight resting on the desk.

His brow furrowed.

Lifting the piece closer (where Green couldn’t get at it), Prowl inspected something odd along the surface of the shoulder.

It looked like a row of staples protruding from the metal.

It looked like ladder rungs.

A frantic banging on Prowls door interrupted his introspection. He quickly subspaced the shoulder joint.

The indignant voice of Red Alert carried through the door, yelling to be let in immediately.

Prowl sent a few consecutive pings to clear the board, reduce interior illumination by 40% and then finally allow the chief of security entry.

Red Alert stumbled in through the sudden opening, plating misting off the residue frost formed by the chill of outer space. His optics darted rapidly around the dimmed interior, landing on the stone faced mech seated behind the desk.

Impassive and unreadable, the only signs the tactician was alive were the cold glow of his optics and the servo lightly stroking his pet. The flyts beady eyes bored into Red Alerts. Silent and unwavering.

Mouth suddenly dry, the mech was unable to form words.

The desired effect was achieved.

“I’ve been expecting you.” Prowl did not offer him a seat, as there was none to offer.

Red Alert got a hold of himself and puffed up his plating.

“Why is there an unauthorized mech on board this ship and why did I only hear about through gossip?!” Red Alert’s voice cracking the last word into a higher register.

“Jazz is authorized to be here. By me.” He offered Green a bit of skitter. “And by our captain. I found him stranded in open space after he fell out of a Quintesson gate tear.”

The smaller mech blanched slightly at the sight of an organic feeding. Prowl estimated the presence of Green would speed their meeting along by a factor of 120%.

“So you’re just bringing home random mechs then.” Red Alert flapped his arms at his sides. “How do you know he isn’t a Functionalist spy? Or a High Command spy? Or a third party spy?!”

Prowl raised a single digit. “One, Velocity has confirmed Jazz is absolutely an alien lifeform and not cybertronian in origin.” He held up a second digit. “And two, he fell out of a quintesson gate tear in the middle of empty space.”

Red Alert began to pace the room. “Okay fine. He’s not a plant for any cybertronian factions. How do you know he isn’t some kind of twisted Quintesson creation? Maybe he was created to infiltrate our ranks, and then a sleeper agent switch flips and he kills us all!”

“He is not a quintesson creation.” Prowl plainly stated to Red Alerts increasing exasperation.

“And how do you know that?!” Throwing his servos in the air.

“He likes music.”

Red Alert reset his optics. “Come again?”

Prowl cleaned off his servo with a rag in his desk, and played a low quality snippet of Jazz’s music that he’d managed to capture.

Red Alert startled at the sudden unfamiliar sound.

When actually was the last time any of them had heard new music? Before the civil war at least.

Prowl continued, “Quintessons do not value nor comprehend alien aesthetics. Their culture revolves around expansion and material acquisition and whatever may qualify as “art” to them does not equate to our understanding of it. They have absolutely no records of partaking in sound based recreation nor of collecting samples from other cultures.”

The snippet cut short. “Simply put, quintessons don’t know good music. Jazz does.”

Red Alert was loosing steam, but still had one more point to contend with.

“Isn’t just too improbable though?” Hands on the desk, leaning as close as he dared. “That out of the entirety of the universe, Jazz just so happened to pop out exactly next to the shuttle you were riding on, conveniently alone, unconscious, unharmed AND he gets picked up by high ranking decepticon?” For once, it looked less like Red Alert was fighting him, rather than pleading with him.

Prowl tilted his helm slightly, “You are correct. The odds are unfathomably low. So low in fact, it is nearly statistically impossible to achieve such a scenario on purpose.”

Quintesson gates were finicky. They had a margin of error the breadth of planets. That was also usually their targets however, and quints weren’t picky where they touched down.

“But-“

“But what? I have addressed every concern you have presented.” Prowl flared his doorwings. “I found a lost mech of a new alien species that may very well be an invaluable ally in the war against the quintessons. It’s a valuable opportunity.”

Red Alert balled his fists, fear manifesting as a last burst of rage. “It’s a trap! It’s an Oil-Pot! It is so obviously a purposeful manipulation when you look at it from the outside!”

The security officer began counting on his digits, “Step one! Put a handsome mech somewhere in need of saving so the target feels like they’re in control and the hero. Step two! Ramp up the flirting and the codependency, they need you so you stay in touch and start giving in to more of their requests. Step three! The Oil-Pot gets you alone somewhere under false pretenses where they SPLIT OPEN YOUR PROCESSOR AND SCRAPE IT FOR SECRETS!”

Red Alerts fans blasted hot air around the room. The mech challenging the Praxian for whatever excuse he had this time.

Prowl stood. Taking his time to return Green to her habitat.

“What am I most known for?”

For not the first time since entering his office, Red Alert was knocked off balance.

“I..uh. Math?” He stammered. Knowing the answer but not wanting to say it.

Prowl lacked that reservation.

“Any spy worth their shanix would have done their research thoroughly before even attempting such a scam. If one were to sift through information on me organized by Decepticons, the most prominent word would be Efficient.”

Prowl leisurely shook out Greens cloth-mop nest of any remaining ice crystals.

“If they sourced their information from the Functionalists, that description would include the word Ruthless.”

Prowl gave the flyt one last scritch before closing the door.

“Other popular words I’ve cataloged in relation to my name include Cold, Severe, Sparkless, Unfeeling and Merciless.” The smaller mech shrunk a little with every addition.

Prowl stepped around the desk in the dimly lit room to stand directly before Red Alert, servos clasped behind his back. “With this information available, any spy would be an idiot to attempt an Oil-Pot against me specifically. Ask nearly any mech aboard this ship if they think I’d go out of my way to save a stranger for no apparent benefit and they’d tell you No.”

Red Alert fiddled with his hands, torn between a nervous tick and the pressure to be professional. “If that’s all true, then.”

He chanced a glance at Prowl face, which gave away nothing. “Then why did you save him?”

“Because they are wrong.”

The room brightened back to normal levels, as Prowl sent a ping first to the lights and then to open his office door. He held out a servo, gesturing to the exit.

“Until further notice, Jazz is to be treated the same as a rescued non combatant. He will be kept under observation but not interrogation. We can work out the details at a later-“

[VELOCITY]: Jazz is gone.]

Prowl closed his servo. His doorwings twitched once. Red Alert tensed.

[VELOCITY]: I just finished the last repair and when I turned around he disappeared from the medbay. The guards outside didn’t see him.]

Prowl marched out the door, pulling Red Alert along in the direction of the security office. “I require your assistance immediately, as Jazz is currently loose somewhere on the ship, unmonitored.”

The tactician endured the security chiefs well earned tirade the entire way. Prowl kept a steely grip on the situation, only barely convincing Red Alert not to raise every alarm on the premise that Jazz would be easier to find if he didn’t think they were looking for him.

Tacnet stubbornly held onto the 56% saying Jazz was experiencing a delayed negative reaction to his medical care and was acting out of fear.

A steadily growing percentage screamed sabotage in a voice annoyingly similar to Red Alerts.

Said mech was almost cheery with vindication, in between vehemently describing every way the Lost Light could explode with the next few breems.

Red Alert worked fast. Sifting through the camera feed at a dizzying speed. A camera caught Jazz quickly slipping out of the medbay. Barely escaping the notice of the two mechs tasked with keeping watch. Prowl noted their designations for later scathing admonishment.

“The port side door lock is time stamped as malfunctioning just before Velocity discovered Jazz’s disappearance. It looks like the lock experienced an extremely localized electromagnetic pulse, putting it in Safe Mode.”

Red Alert switched the camera feeds on the main screen. “After he rounds this corner he just vanishes. I can’t find him anywhere on my system.”

Prowl nodded. “Good. Then I know where exactly where he has to be.”

There were very few places to hide upon the Lost Light. Red Alert made certain of that. Which by extension meant that someone desperate to stay out of any camera views would have an extremely limited amount of space to operate in.

That space would normally be un-traversable, unless the mech in question was in possession of incredibly powerful magnetic augments, allowing them to crawl along the ceilings.

Prowl sent out a flurry of comms, updating Elita and calling in trusted reinforcements. He set out down the hall.

[PROWL]: What rooms aboard this ship do you not have any cameras inside of?]

[Red Alert]: The war room. The Captains quarters, your office, the therapists office and the operating theater.]

[PROWL]: There’s a camera in my berthroom?]

[Red Alert]: I mean. It’s not like you use it?]

Prowl consistently removed any bugging attempts in his office. Half the reason he kept Green in there was to deter Red Alert from trying. The other half was because he legitimately spent more time there than in his quarters.

He mentally crossed off his office, Elita’s quarters, the operating theater and the therapists office from the list as each one had someone inside at the time of Jazz’s disappearance.

All that left was the war room. Windowless, minimalist and with only once entrance, Jazz would be cornered like an animal in a trap.

Prowl gathered several of the least impulsive guards he could summon on short notice. Lining them along the hallway, he ordered the. to shoot to disable, Prowl added that he would make an attempt to talk the mech down before escalating.

If Jazz was spec ops (44%), the only benefit of infiltrating the war room would be to plant listening devices in its purposefully sparse interior. If Jazz wasn’t acting out of malice, and simply having a panic attack (56%), he may still react violently to suddenly being cornered.

Matchup: Close quarters fight Jazz versus Prowl. Jazz victory 97%.

The 3% in Prowls favor mostly depended on Jazz having some kind of sudden health emergency.

Prowl carefully assumed a neutral pose, knocking on the door to the war room.

“This is officer Prowl speaking. Please exit the room peacefully, we do not want to hurt you.”

Silence, save for the shifting of many nervous peds behind him. Prowl risked opening the door a crack, keeping his body well out of the line of fire. “Jazz, it is Prowl speaking. I need you to say something. Otherwise we’re going to have to come in.”

When there was still no response, Prowl signaled for the gathered soldiers to come closer in preparation for a raid.

On the silent count of three, they entered the war room, blasters drawn and optics searching.

Prowl kept special focus on the ceiling. Fanning his doorwings, He created a real time 3D map of the room, tracking every mechs movements within.

Jazz wasn’t here.

Prowl prepared to order a ship wide mech hunt. They’d already wasted so much time with their one sided negotiations. The tactician began rerunning his mental map of where Jazz could have disappeared.

Elita had already sent him several unhappy comms messages about what she was going to do to the alien and him if Prowl didn’t find them. Confirming between threats that Jazz hadn’t gotten into her room.

Velocity had Nautica and Nightbeat in the med bay with her, turning the place upside down in case Jazz doubled back.

He found the comm line for the therapists office.

[PROWL] We have a rogue, possibly unstable mech loose within the Lost Light. Are you inside your office?]

[RUNG] Ah Prowl! Good to see you reaching out to me first for a change. Just finished up a lovely talk with Jazz.]

[RUNG] I think he has something important to tell you.]

———————————————————————

I am generally intrigued by the concept of how being apart of the Decepticon’s pecking order messes a person up.

There’s references all over to how Prowls physical and mental well being got absolutely wrecked and is now in recovery from being apart of High Command. (Inspired partially by @glitchgh0sty’s Deception AU go check ‘em out they’re cool.)

I also wanted to explore the social side of things.

Prowl makes himself as unapproachable on purpose, Elita makes acts of excessive violence on her enemies a prominent display and Red Alert is even more invasive than normal.

It’s all to ward off other Decepticons from sensing weakness and stabbing them in the backs. Younger mechs like Bluestreak and Velocity can get away with being much more relaxed and friendly because they’ve got scary ass mechs like Prowl and Elita behind them radiating the “I will fucking destroy you.” energy on their behalf.

We get to see the masks slip a bit here and there. Red Alert genuinely concerned for Prowls safety underneath the paranoia. Elita gives Jazz and Prowl a lot more freedom than an actual tyrant would, even if it’s granted with over the tops threats of physical violence. And of course we see a lot of what Prowl is actually like removed from the pressure of behaving like a “proper” Decepticon.

Wonder what will happen when a certain mecha pilot gets a crowbar under those masks.

-SSTP

#tf mecha universe #writing #ye

151 notes · View notes

captain-hawks · 10 months ago

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Hello! I'm a new follower but I'm already devouring your works (and trying hard not to spam haha). I love your spicy sleepover games, it's such a fun theme! For the threesome weekend, can I request Oikawa and Atsumu? Thank you!!

(hihi welcome<3! thank you so much!)

friendly competition

atsumu miya x f!reader x tooru oikawa

c: 18+, competitive idiots, 2 ex boyfriends under one roof, squirting competition, fingering (double fingering penetration?), [implied unprotected p in v, creampies, cum eating]

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — THREESOME EDITION!

“Just cause ya think you’re a god on the court doesn’t mean ya know how to make a girl squirt, dumbass.”

“I’m shocked any girls even let you get that close to them with that shitty dye job, Miya.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve fu—”

“Neither of you are getting any tonight if you don’t grow up.”

Atsumu and Tooru’s mouths both snap shut at the same time, and they have the decency to at least look somewhat apologetic as they glance down at you

It’s certainly not how you originally planned on seeing tonight pan out, lying in your bed between both of your ex-boyfriends who you weren’t even sure really knew each other beyond a mild acquaintance in the world of professional volleyball—but clearly they despise one another.

“Is being a conceited dickhead a prerequisite to being a pretty setter?” you ask sweetly, glancing between the two of them.

Atsumu opens his mouth, looking like he wants to say something, but Tooru punches him in the forearm, quicker to take a hint.

You dated Atsumu for a few years in college—you lived together in a shitty, one-bedroom apartment—and your intense, year-long fling with Tooru came a couple years after that. Neither relationship ended up working out, but you’ve stayed friends with both of them, passively keeping up with their volleyball careers and texting them every so often to razz them over bad serves and embarrassing paparazzi photos.

On your way home from work this evening, you’d received simultaneous texts from Atsumu and Tooru, which was an odd coincidence in and of itself. But the real kicker was finding out that both of them were staying at the same hotel for a volleyball conference—a hotel which had closed for emergency repairs an hour earlier due to a partial floor collapse. And because neither of them could find last minute accommodations, they both asked if they could crash on your couch.

Without thinking too much of it, you said yes to both, figuring it wouldn’t be an issue.

Spoiler alert: it was, indeed, a fucking issue.

Given your lack of a spare futon and their delicate sensibilities, you had suggested that because you’re all adults, one of them could sleep in your bed with you. The mattress is certainly large enough, after all.

Thinking back, you’re really not sure what possessed you to say it, given that they’re both the kind of people that will take their competitive nature to the grave. The argument had unfolded over an array of takeout boxes spread across your coffee table, nearly resulting in several chopsticks to the eye when they both tried presenting a case for who deserved to sleep in your bed.

While neither seemed to be under the assumption that sleeping in your bed meant you’d be fucking, the conversation grew cruder by the minute regardless, Atsumu nearly on the verge of whipping out his dick and a ruler just to prove a point.

You could blame it on the lack of compatible matches you’ve found across dating apps lately, or your vibrator that finally gave up and kicked the bucket last week.

But deep down, you knew the real reason for the tide of heat stirring in your gut—the fact that the two men seated on either side of your couch were the two best sexual partners you’d ever had in your life.

And that they were both also the only two people that you could fathom would be down for the ridiculous, hormone-fuelled idea brewing in your head—

Competing for the bed.

Sexually.

You’d struggled to find quantifiable parameters to judge them both on, going back and forth for nearly an hour until you threw your hands in the air, exasperated, and blurted out, “Well, nobody’s ever made me squirt.”

–

“So remember, when it’s your turn, you can do whatever you want to me—within reason—to try and make me squirt. When your time is up, you have to stop and switch. You’ll go back and forth until one of you wins, and winner takes the bed.”

Atsumu and Tooru both nod.

“How are we deciding who gets to start?” Tooru asks.

Six tied rounds of rock-paper-scissors later, Atsumu’s seething as he points a figure inches away from Tooru’s face and barks out, “You fuckin’ cheated.”

Tooru shrugs, offering him a wink before shoving him halfway off of the bed and climbing on top of you.

It’s odd how it doesn’t feel strange at all, staring up into Tooru’s soft brown eyes as he gazes down at you, your eyes fluttering shut as he cups the side of your face and strokes a thumb over your cheek.

Despite the years between now and the last time you found yourselves in this compromising position, it feels like no time has passed at all as he murmurs against your lips, “Hi sweetheart,” in the ghost of a kiss.

Something hot and insistent yawns awake inside of you, your lips parting slightly as his mouth scrapes over yours, your empty fingers twitching slightly from where they’re palm-up beside your head. You know it’s muscle memory—the way his hand slides up your wrist, fingers intertwining with yours as he presses down.

He takes your other hand and does the same, sliding both so that they’re pinned to the mattress above your head, his hips pressed against yours while he brazenly licks his way into your mouth just the way he knows you like it.

“You taste like honey,” he murmurs, a trail of spit hanging between your lips as he pulls away slightly before taking your bottom one between his teeth.

It was always a little difficult to breathe around Tooru, all that vibrant, fiery, addictive space he took up in your heart.

“Alright, time’s up, get the fuck up,” Atsumu grumbles, tugging at the collar of Tooru’s t-shirt.

Tooru releases you, holding up his hands and shooting you a smirk before sliding down to the end of the bed.

When Atsumu gets on top of you, it’s different—the feeling that floods your veins. It’s a soft, bright, all-consuming warmth, memories of late nights buried under the sheets and quiet, lazy Sunday mornings spent in bed with him. It’s still blistering, the edges of this heady attraction you don’t think you’ll ever be able to shake, but it’s carefully shaped by the tender afterglow of familiarity.

“Hey baby,” he grins, your heart somersaulting in your chest as he presses a slow, gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

And then your nose.

And then your forehead.

It makes you ache, the way he never forgot this silly little game of teasing, delayed gratification. The way it became a ritual, your fond huffs of frustration as the path of his kiss deviated far beyond the reach of your mouth—from your shoulders, to your tummy, to your ticklish ankles.

There’s a pleased sound that rumbles in his throat as you unconsciously thread your fingers into his hair, just like you always used to, tugging his mouth against yours. His hands cradle your face, his lips a searing band that sets your pulse alight and thrumming wildly in your chest.

“I kissed better than that in high school, next,” Tooru sighs, unceremoniously tugging at the back of Atsumu’s mussed blonde locks.

He glares, squeezing your left hip once before rolling off of you.

“I’m surprised neither of you is rushing into this,” you observe as Tooru takes Atsumu’s place, trailing his finger along the thin strap of your sundress.

Tooru leans in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your sternum. His other hand wraps around your waist, and he chuckles quietly under his breath as your body arches upward into the sensation of his tongue caressing the place where the plunging neckline of the dress meets the swell of your breasts.

“Well it’s not going to work if you’re not turned on,” he murmurs, hand coming up to cup one of your breasts

He uses his thumb to drag down the material just enough to expose your peaked nipple, dragging his tongue in circles over the pert bud until you’re biting your lip to hold back the keening noise in your throat.

“I miss the pretty sounds you used to make for me,” he sighs, tugging down your dress further to let your tits spill out. “And these, I really miss these.”

He leans in, closing his mouth over one, noisily sucking and lapping at your tit as you let out a loud, trembling moan.

“Tooru.”

“Switch!” Atsumu barks out.

There’s a looking glimmering in Atsumu’s eyes—that determined, one-track focus he gets on the court before a serve. But it’s scalded with the simmering edge of the darkness blown out in his pupils that leaves you all too aware of the rapidly pooling arousal in your panties.

Seemingly of the same mind, Atsumu runs his tongue along his lower lip, mouth curving upward as he slowly pushes up the skirt of your dress until the black lace is on display. Spreading your legs, he settles between your thighs, holding your gaze as he pointedly drags a finger over your clothed cunt.

You know he’s not commenting on how wet you are because he knows Tooru will take all the credit.

Instead, he leans in, lips lingering against the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “We both know how wet I can make you.”

Unbothered by the barrier of your panties, Atsumu begins to massage your cunt from the outside, carefully watching the way the rising and falling of your chest accelerates with each pointed stroke of his thumb across your swollen clit.

And then he pushes your legs open a little wider, clearly having not forgotten the way you love to be spread open, and you have to press your face sideways into the pillow to muffle your brazen, needy moan when he starts to finger you through your panties. As badly as you want to feel the bare stretch of his fingers inside of you, there’s something about the way the sticky, wet lace drags against your slick, tight walls that has your legs trembling, a fresh gush of arousal leaking out of you.

“Fuck,” he exhales, fingers curling around your hip as he watches you rock your hips into his touch, trying to take him deeper despite the way your panties are limiting his movement.

“My turn,” Tooru cuts in, and you nearly groan in frustration as the pleasure simmering between your legs vanishes instantly at the loss of Atsumu’s touch.

Tooru spots the furrow in your brows and makes quick work of your panties, slipping them off and tossing them aside before coming to lay beside you. On your other side, you can feel Atsumu settle down into the same position.

“Hands off, Miya,” Tooru snaps.

“I just thought we were all getting comfortable,” Atsumu sighs dramatically, curling his hands around the pillow like a portrait of innocence.

Tooru rolls his eyes before leaning in close to kiss your neck, blazing a hot, damp trail of plush lips and sharp teeth as his deft fingers slide down the slope of your abdomen to rest atop your slick mound.

Having closed your legs slightly, you spread them wider again, and he takes your cue to slip one long digit into your wet cunt. You moan, your hips lifting up off of the bed to push him deeper inside of you, and he lets out a rough exhale, “Fuck, she wants it so bad.”

Atsumu’s breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he replies, “So fuckin’ bad.”

Tooru groans as you continue to try to fuck yourself on the single finger he’s plunging in and out of you, eyes going from your dripping wet pussy to the steady shaking of your tits.

“Give her another one,” Atsumu breathes out, sitting up a bit to watch.

You’re not sure when the fuck this became a collaborative effort, but you’re not complaining.

Tooru’s quiet for a beat before he replies, “Help me.”

There’s no hesitation in the way Atsumu’s hand snakes down, his finger sliding into your cunt right beside Tooru’s, and you let out a broken moan at the electrifying pleasure that pulses through your body at this—at being fingered by both of your ex-boyfriends at the same time.

Atsumu scoots closer, his front flush against your side, and you can feel the thick outline of his hard cock through his sweatpants. (Those stupid gray sweatpants you know he wore on purpose.)

Turning to him, you smirk, though it’s difficult when your face continues to contort in pleasure as they both pump their fingers in and out of your slick entrance. “I’m surprised you’ve kept it in your pants this long.”

Atsumu laughs, and the sound is low and rough as he leans in and murmurs against your lips. “I’m so goddamn hard.”

He kisses you, and it’s so, so messy, spit coating your lips as he wraps his tongue around yours, the press of his mouth growing rougher as your moans get more desperate.

“Me too,” Tooru exhales, his hands grasping your chin to pull your mouth to his instead.

One of them begins to stroke your clit with their thumb, and you gasp, drunk on the pulsating maelstrom of pleasure building up inside of you at a frantic, intoxicating speed.

And then, between one breath and the next, suddenly Atsumu’s mouth is right up against Tooru’s, and they’re both kissing you at once while they continue to stuff their fingers into your cunt. It’s so filthy, the spit-soaked way your mouths all slot together, the way both of their tongues wrap around yours as they curl their fingers and massage that soft, spongy spot on your inner walls.

When your climax hits, you’re not prepared for the intense, all-consuming downpour of blazing hot pleasure that floods your body, every thought in your head rendered useless beyond the way you nearly sob as you shout both of their names one after the other. Clear liquid squirts out of your cunt, spraying everywhere and soaking the sheets.

As you come down from your orgasm, the three of you lie there in silence for a few moments before Atsumu asks, “...do we need a tie breaker?”

Glancing over at him, you huff out a laugh. “No, because you’re both sleeping in here tonight.”

–

They bicker over it, just a little.

A few choice words tossed over the brushing of teeth and the shuffling of pillows.

But it’s all a moot point later when Atsumu’s groaning about how it’s the “hottest fucking sex he’s ever had” while he’s roughly fucking Tooru’s cum back inside of you.

(And he doesn’t even complain about semantics when you squirt one more time for Tooru while he’s eating the filthy mixture of their cum right out of your cunt after.)

#tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu #dee writes #spicy sleepover weekend #oikawa tooru #miya atsumu #pretty setters know best

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trippinsorrows · 1 month ago

Text

dreamland: the school projects

authors note: yes, it's really my ass again. promise this is the last one. next thing i update will be the ltye chapter sometime over the weekend.

let's pretend target aint' problematic in this world.

warnings: roman's blood pressure being in the danger zone.

words: 4.6k

Roman always misses his wife when she's out of town. For obvious reasons, and some not so obvious. The biggest one though is that having two parents to manage six children, all who happen to still be in single digits, is always better than one. Especially when one is lucky enough to have a partner like Sol.

She's so good and graceful at handling all the things.

Like school projects.

Especially those. His wife is as creative as she is beautiful. Always able to help the kids when they get sent home with those annoying ass projects he has zero patience for. It's already hard enough for him to manage coloring with those small ass crayons when his set of creative kids ask him to sit down and do art with them. Anything beyond that is grounds for referral.

Except that's not an option.

It's not an option, because his wife isn't here. Out of town for a leadership conference for female business owners. A good thing for her. He's forever proud of all she's accomplished.

But, that leaves him on his own with their six children. Soon to be four, because Roman is having a hard ass time processing what his two oldest are trying to tell him.

"What you mean ya'll both have a project due?" Roman had just finished getting his twin boys, Koa and Kai, down for bed. Not nearly as difficult as it was for the older ones, but still something that took a good half hour. Now he's got the terror non-twins in front of him hitting him with something unexpected. "When are they due?"

"Tomorrow," Lina answers it so easily and casually, completely either oblivious or uncaring of the way her daddy's eyes widen.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yup," Tama nods, the two of them sharing a little laugh. Over what, he has no idea. These two are always in cahoots over something, and he can't be bothered with that right now, because he's too busy trying not to freak out on them.

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. "So, ya'll really both knew you had these projects due yet decided to wait until—" He looks at the expensive watch on his wrist. "Almost 6pm to tell me about them?"

Lina nods so nonchalantly.

Roman has to bite back a smart ass response. Then it hits him. "Wait, does that mean Leya has one, too?"

Lina shakes her head. "Sissy did hers two weeks ago."

So, why the hell ya'll ain't do yours then, too? A question he keeps to himself, because he already knows the answer. Leya inherited all of Solana's creativity. She loves school projects. Of course she completed her early. Not to mention, Sol loves helping her, all the kids, really, with them.

It's a love Roman, unfortunately, does not share.

But, something he's gonna have to stomach cause these damn kids have pulled one over on him yet again.

Roman shakes his head. "Alright, well let's get started. What are the requ—what?" He stops himself, detecting the unspoken expression in their faces.

Lina pokes out her mouth, rocking back and forth on her heels, hands behind her back. "We don't have the supplies."

Tama adds. "Yeah, we gotta go to Target."

"Target?" It just keeps getting worse. "What do you mean we don't have the supplies?" Roman gestures to the space around them. "All these art rooms I built for your mom, and we don't have everything ya'll need already?"

In synchronization, Tama and Lina nod. Roman has to close his eyes and count backwards from ten.

Of course.

"Go tell Leya to throw something on," he instructs his two oldest, both quickly running away and up the stairs to inform their sister of this unexpected outing. Roman pulls out his phone, alerting security that he has to run out and someone needs to watch Koa and Kai's nursery. No way in hell he's waking and dragging them out the house. Not when he just got them down for bed.

Receiving a response, Roman moves up the steps to head to Samaria's room to get her ready as well.

He's gonna need a drink after all this.

Or several.

-----------

"Alright, look," he starts off, looking back at his kids, all four wearing various expressions. Lina and Tama look excited as hell, Samaria is in her own world, lowly singing some random song, and Leya—sweet, sweet Leya—is the only one clearly paying attention. "When we get in this store, I don't want ya'll asking for nothing." Roman literally had several packages delivered just this afternoon of the latest toys, dolls, and obstacle course themed things. He means it when he says he's not buying them anything. "We're here for supplies for these projects. Okay?" Leya nods, signifying her understanding. The other three kids remain unfocused and uninterested.

Aria has a bit of an attitude with him—tapping into her inner Lina—because he wouldn't let her take her "cart" with her. AKA the kids Target cart she got a few weeks ago that Solana always lets her bring when they go out shopping.

He just had to remind her that that's mommy's thing. Not daddy's thing.

Not that she cares, of course.

Getting all four out of their car seats takes a good almost twenty minutes. Naturally, Lina and Tama are ready to run in the store, Roman instructing Zilla to keep an eye on and tag them. Leya, unsurprisingly, doesn't need to be prompted. She naturally takes Roman's hand, staying close to him. Samaria is a little more difficult, easily trying to dart off the minute they walk into the store.

That's another thing.

Roman had an idea that maybe if the store wasn't cleared out, the kids would be less likely to want to roam.

Wrong idea.

Zilla is following Lina and Tama who have said fuck the supplies, instead heading to the sports section. Samaria, after being placed in the cart by Roman, is pointing and asking him to take her down damn near every aisle. It's literally only Leya—his now favorite child, who stays close to him the entire time. When he can't hold her hand, because he's placing shit in the cart, she's holding onto his shirt or shorts.

Both for her comfort and because out of all the kids, she's always been the most obedient. When they say to do something, Leya always does it. The exception being when her OCD interferes.

"Daddy, look!" Roman was in the midst of trying to look over the needed supplies from each Lina and Tama's project directions when Samaria is tugging on his sleeve. He looks over to see her pointing to some kids makeup set.

He shakes his head. "Aria, daddy just got you one of those last week." And not cause he wanted to. At five, his little girl is way into that beauty shit much earlier than he'd like to see.

"Not that one!" She whines, wiggling, wanting to get out of the cart.

"Aria—"

"I wanna see it!" She shouts, crossing her arms and pouting.

Any other time, Roman would nip that attitude in the bud. She definitely takes after Lina with her stubbornness sometimes. But, right now, he's gotta pick and choose his battles.

Begrudgingly, Roman lifts her out and watches her run over to the end cap where she grabs two kits, dashes back over and tries to place them in the cart, but she's too little, her arms too short to reach.

He sighs and obliges, opening his mouth to stop her as she runs back and starts looking down the aisle.

Roman closes his eyes.

I love my kids.

His internal mantra and reminder is repeated as he and Leya walk down the aisle, the father of six tossing and placing item after item into the cart. All courtesy of Samaria who talks and explains the whole time why she "needs" all this stuff.

She needs nothing. None of his kids do. Except these damn school supplies for this stupid ass project.

"Alright, that's enough, Samaria." Roman has to finally put his foot down. The cart is damn near full of unnecessary shit, and the more time they spend in this store, the less time he has to help the kids complete their projects. And that doesn't even include getting the rest of them down for bed.

Another daunting task in and of itself.

Samaria pouts once more, whining out an, "okay."

Roman gathers the papers again, ready to start moving down the list. He's decided that Lina and Tama still being gone somewhere in the store is something he refuses to think about. Because, he just knows they've got a cart filled.

Just knows it.

But, then he sees it out the corner of his eye. Sees the way Leya is looking over at something on the shelf. Some type of art kit. She says nothing, nor does she indicate any type of plans to grab it. Much unlike her younger sister.

It brings a small smile on his face. That's his Leya. Never the type to really ask for anything. Always content.

Roman bends down, gesturing to the kit. "You can get it."

Leya turns to him with surprise in her pretty eyes. Her smile is small and cautious. She points to it with an unspoken but evident question.

Really?

Roman chuckles and kisses her forehead. "Go ahead."

Her smile grows instantly as she walks over, grabbing the kit and bringing it back over, placing it in the cart. Seconds later, she's back by his side, but this time pointing at the papers in hand.

"These?" She nods. Roman hands them to her as she looks them over, tugging on his shirt, indicating her desire for her to follow him. Roman calls for Samaria to come walk with them, taking her hand in his, the other navigating the cart.

Wordlessly, Roman follows his eight-year-old as she quietly guides them down an aisle and starts placing items in the cart.It's obvious by the way she looks between the papers before grabbing said items, that she's not shopping for herself like her siblings. She's getting the supplies needed for the projects. Handling that task for him.

It keeps a small smile on his face.

Of all the kids, she's definitely the most like Solana.

Selfless.

"Would you look at that, John?" A new voice enters the scene, somewhat sounding out the sound of Samaria, who's singing quietly, again, while also picking up more unnecessary stuff for herself.

Typical.

A glance over allows Roman to see a Caucasian, elderly couple, a man and a woman, watching as his girls shop. It instantly makes him scowl.

People.

He's fully prepared to ignore them when the woman speaks again. "What sweet girls helping out their dad." At that, he has no protests there. Never mind the fact Leya is the only one trying to help him. Samaria is helping herself and her ever growing collection of toys.

Much to his chagrin, the 176 year-old woman walks over to him, hand over her chest. "I truly commend you single fathers." Roman scowls. The fuck? "I know it can't be easy raising two young girls all on your own."

Roman has to stop himself from snapping and cussing them out. Solana has been on him lately about his language in front of the kids. Something about her being tired of Lina and Tama getting sent home with notes about cussing at their classmates.

Not that he sees a big issue. They shouldn't be messing with his kids in the first damn place.

"Lady, I'm not a single father." And, he certainly has more than two kids. Way more. "Their mom is coming back."

"And, you keep believing that, son." The older man speaks up, fist raised in some sort of sign of determination and solidarity. "Keep hope alive that she'll come to her senses, find her way home, and come back to these sweet little angels."

At that point, Samaria comes over, wearing some wig—where the fuck did she get that from?—with a great big smile. "I am an angel!" She starts spinning around, holding her dress, singing.

Again.

It clearly moves this old ass couple who look at her in awe.

Meanwhile, Roman is trying not to lose his damn mind.

"Come on, ya'll," Roman mutters, managing to steer his kids away without having to acknowledge or curse out the nursing home escapees. Except, one stressor is traded for another.

"What the hell is all this?" Roman asks, face to face with Zilla who's pushing one full ass cart along with Lina and Tama who are pushing yet another full ass cart. Toys, basketballs, snacks, sports shits, and other randoms practically overflowing.

He looks over at his younger cousin who simply shrugs. "They also scheduled a play date, too," Zilla informs.

"Her name is Mrs. Jade, and she's really nice," Lina shares, starting to explain. "She has two kids."

"Josiah and Marcus," Tama finishes. "It's next Saturday at 2pm."

"What have I told ya'll about talking to people you don't know?" Roman scolds. For the life of him, he'll never understand how he and Solana made all these goddamn extroverted ass kids.

Lina shrugs. "We know them now."

Roman, once again, has to count to ten.

Or, 100.

In the meantime, Lina and Tama rush over to Leya, asking what she got. At which point, Leya points to the single item she selected. This, of course, is not acceptable to Lina.

"You need more stuff, sissy," she informs, taking her by the hand. The two of them, joined by Tama, head down a nearby aisle of toys. Goddamn, it feels like Roman can't escape the shit.

"Wait for me!" Samaria calls after them, running behind her big siblings.

"Watch them," Roman orders. Zilla nods. The Tribal Chief then turns on his heel, searching for a completely different kind of aisle. He suddenly has a new, unexpected item added to his list.

It's relatively easy to find, though a blast from the fucking past.

Years.

It's been years since he's had to shop for this.

Something he never ever expected to have to do, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Roman easily peruses the options, most of which have never worked for him, finally landing on it. The only one that did work. Grabbing the black and gold box, he's partially surprised the design hasn't changed in all the time that's passed since he was last in the market.

He reads the box just to make sure he's grabbed the right one.

Trojan

Magnum XL

Value Size

The right one, for sure.

It takes a second for it to set in. Roman swore up and down he'd never use protection with his wife. Never wanted to. The pleasure of fucking her raw has always been too good to not experience. But between his being fertile as hell, her also clearly being fertile as hell, the six kids they already have, along with her not wanting to get on birth control, he feels like he has no other choice.

They cannot risk anymore kids. Roman loves her. Loves his children. Loves his family, but it's too much. They have more than enough on their plate. With him being a few years shy of 50 and Solana a couple years away from 40, it would be irresponsible as hell for him to bring anymore children into the world. Not to mention, he's not sure he can handle another Lina or Tama.

Grip on the box tightening just a bit, he nods to himself.

He'll just have to talk and lay it all out for Solana when she gets home.

Surely, she'll understand.

Roman turns to leave and then considers something. Considers how sexually active he and his wife are.

He grabs another box.

And then an extra one.

For….reasons.

Roman finds Zilla and his brood of children along with three full ass baskets, Lina informing proudly, "we're ready to checkout, daddy."

Yes, they sure fucking are.

Tama, however, would be the one to notice the boxes Roman is trying his best to keep discreet. "Hey dad, what's that?"

"Nothing," Roman dismisses, working to keep his voice calm and nonchalant. "Adult stuff."

"So, it's for old people?"

Zilla covers his mouth to hide his snort.

"Come on," Roman ignores his smart mouth having ass son as the group heads over to the registers, choosing the one that has only one person in line ahead of them. The kids play and talk among themselves, not including Samaria still singing, when Roman catches out the corner of his eye a man to the right of him waiting to check out as well.

He lifts his sunglasses, looking between the items in Roman's hands and his rambunctious four children. "I think it might be a lil' too late for that, my brother."

Zilla is unable to hold in his laughter this time. Roman shoots both the man and his cousin a glare. "Hey. He said it. Not me."

"Shut up," Roman mutters, grateful when it's their turn to be rung up.

"Hi!" The cashier, a young girl in her twenties flashes him a big, annoying ass smile. Why the fuck is she so damn happy? "Did you find everything alright?"

"We did!" Samaria answers. The woman leans over to see his youngest little girl beaming up just as much, placing two candy bars on the conveyor belt. When the hell did she grab that?

"Well, that is just awesome," the girl replies in a sing-song voice, further irking the already irritated man.

"Here." He tries to subtly hand her the three value sized boxes of condoms. "Ring these up now and place em' in a separate bag."

Her eyes widen slightly as she reads one of the boxes, a blush forming on her cheeks. "Of course."

Roman rolls his eyes, warning Tama and Lina to stay close. He can see them eyeing some people he knows they'd just love to go talk to.

"Are you interested in joining our Target Circle program?" The woman asks, Roman picking up Samaria to keep her from grabbing anymore candy.

"No," he answers, watching the subtotal continue to go up and up.

"Are you sure?" She presses, continuing to ring up the items. "We have several card options. Each bound to meet at least one of your Target shopping ne—"

"Lady," he interrupts, the tight grip on his anger loosening with each annoying word that leaves her annoying big ass mouth. "I don't wanna join your damn program. I want you to ring my shit up, so I can get the hell out of here, okay?"

Around him, various responses. Samaria, in his arms, gasps. "Daddy," she says it just in that Solana scolding type of voice. "That was mean."

Leya remains silent, but her twin and partner in crime are snickering away. Tama laughing, "daddy said shit."

"Ya'll stop that cussing," Roman scolds. Grateful the cashier got the hint, she says nothing else until it's time to share the total.

$7,846.53

Roman manages to pull out his wallet and black card, inserting it inside the chip reader, all while still holding a now yawning Samaria. At almost 7:30pm, it's past her bedtime.

Snatching the receipt from Blondie, Roman and the group are heading to the car, Zilla loading up the two SUV's as Roman works to strap all the kids in their car seats.

Lina suddenly yawns as he works to secure Samaria. "Daddy, can we get ice cream?"

Roman's eyes nearly bulge out his head.

"No, we are not getting ice cream." He shoots that down real fast, laying out the game plan. "We are going home, I'm gonna put your little sister to bed, we're going to get these projects done, and then all of ya'll are going to sleep."

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

After letting the kids ice cream digest, Roman sort of sticks to his plan, putting Samaria to sleep and starting to help Lina and Tama with their projects now that they have all the necessary supplies.

And more.

But, that's neither here nor there.

Except, once again, Roman is reminded how non-creative he is.

And so are his two oldest children.

It's a combination of frustration, exhaustion, and more that has The Tribal Chief just about ready to call it a night, accepting he'll just keep them home from school tomorrow.

And then, a savior.

A sweet, sweet angel in the form of an eight year old-girl.

Leya.

His saint of a daughter arrives, practically taking over for all three of them. She works silently and efficiently, pointing and gesturing to certain items when she needs help, something she needs very little of.

It's like watching Solana do her magic, the way his little girl transforms nothing into something.

And not even an hour later, both projects are complete, courtesy almost entirely of Miss Cataleya Reigns.

Why couldn't all his kids be like her?

Roman doesn't need to direct Tama and Lina to thank their sister. One thing about them all, they love and support each other. He and Solana never have to do anything to encourage that.

Unfortunately, it's not until almost 10:30 when he gets the remaining kids in bed, Roman plopping down on the sofa and releasing a deep breath from one of the most stressful days he's had in a while.

He'd love nothing more than to jump in bed, but he has to have his nightly call with his wife to see how she's doing. Along with letting her know how things have been on his end.

Something he both is and is not looking forward to.

Except when Roman pulls out his phone to call his wife, he hears something.

Turning to his right, he's met with none other than Leya. She's still in her pajamas, pink, silk bonnet on her head, her favorite stuffy in her hand.

He sits forward, frowning, "what's wrong, baby?"

He has a guess, already knowing her anxiety and OCD tend to get triggered at night when one of her parents is out of town. Except, she usually comes and finds him when he's already in bed.

Not this soon.

She says nothing, instead walking over and placing her little arms around him for a hug.

Instantly, a massive wave of relief washes over him. There's something about being hugged by all his kids, especially his girls. But, Leya's hugs always hit and feel deeper.

And that feeling only intensifies when she says in her cute, soft, little voice, "you're the best daddy ever."

Roman's eyes shut, his heart filled with all the wonderful things and emotions that come from fatherhood. From knowing how, despite his massive concerns about such thing, his hard work has paid off.

He's managed to have the relationship with his kids he never thought possible but is clearly a reality given the powerful words just spoken.

"Thank you, sweetie." Roman kisses her temple. "I love you, Cataleya."

She hugs him a little tighter. "I love you, too, daddy."

Words he'll never tire of hearing. Ever.

Roman pulls back, gently tapping her cheek. "Hey, how about you come lay down with daddy now?" It makes all the sense. He knows before the morning arrives, at least two of his children will end up in his bed. The kids all like to sleep with whatever parent is home when the other is out of town.

He's just fast forwarding.

Leya's eyes light up as she nods and smiles happily.

Roman chuckles, standing up while still holding her. "Come on."

He leads her upstairs, keeping from her the fact she'll probably get to see and speak to Solana with him. Another surprise of sorts.

Roman's kids may be a lot at times, as are most children, but they're his.

His family.

His legacy.

And, he wouldn't have it any other way.

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

Less than a week later, Solana is back home, where she belongs, and where Roman needs her most.

After a day of the kids hovering around their mother, as expected given her absence, later that evening, Roman finally has his wife to himself.

Laying in between her legs, he laments while she plays in his hair, massaging his scalp and providing the sort of release only she can gift him.

"And then," he starts, transitioning to yet another stressful tale from while she was gone. It's always a bit funny to her how dramatic her husband can be. "Lina and Tama…I swear those two are going to send me to an early grave."

Solana rolls her eyes, small smile on her face. "I now they're a lot at times."

"At times?" His eyes dart up to her, filled with nothing but disbelief. "Baby, it's always something with them two. They don't know how to stay seated for more than five minutes, and they can never just listen. Stubborn asses."

Solana snorts. "I wonder where they get that from."

He mutters, "must be from your side of the family."

At that, she has to stop and look at him again. Solana loves this man with everything in her, but it never ceases to amaze her how blind he can be when it comes to their kids. She knows Tama and Lina are a handful at times, spitfires on their own, a tsunami together, but they're every bit of their dad. Same temper. Same determination. Same scowl, even.

Roman is just dealing with himself in the form of an eight year-old little girl and a seven year-old little boy. Not that he can see that.

No, not at all.

"Well…" Solana trails off, leaning over, running her hands down his chest. "Hint of advice for next time, babe?" Roman looks at her. "Let Aria take her cart. Once it's filled, that's it in her mind. She doesn't think to ask to put anything else in the big cart. Keep Lina with Leya, and Tama with you. Leya serves as a buffer between the two."

Roman looks like his whole life has just been turned upside down. He sits up, continuing to look at Solana with disbelief. "Baby, you ain't think to tell me that shit before?" Solana giggles, rolling her eyes once more. "All that damn stress for nothing."

Solana presses her lips together and strokes his beard. "I'm sorry, mi amor." Voice dropping, she sits up, moving closer to him on the bed. "Why don't you let me make it up to you?" Solana shifts once more so she's straddling her husband. Her hands massaging his big, broad shoulders. She drops her mouth to his ear, kissing the shell, whispering. "Let mami take care of papi."

Lightly grinding on top of him, she's unsurprised to feel the growing erection pressing against her.

Smiling, she starts kissing him, his hands moving under her big shirt, going and lifting it over her head. The removal leaves her in just her blank thong. Nothing else.

An unhealthy amount of lust fills and dances in Roman's warm irises, prompting her to reach for the waistband of his sweats.

Kissing on his neck while doing so, she's caught off guard when he grabs her by her wrists.

Confused as all outdoors, she expresses as such, "what's wrong?"

Roman just looks at her. This beautiful goddess of a woman practically naked before him. The mother of his children. His wife. The love of his life. He's missed the fuck out of her.

And, he's especially missed fucking her.

He won't deny himself this.

Not tonight.

"Nothing," he dismisses, hiking her up on his waist. They can have the condom talk some other time. Right now, he wants one thing and one thing only. Solana lowers her lips to his, her hair hanging and fanning their faces. He smirks, murmuring with a light slap to her ass. "Show papi how much you missed him."

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

162 notes · View notes

pinkslipxox · 2 months ago

Note

Mom!Billie is left alone with the twins (toddlers) for a week b/c her wife had a work trip on the east coast. The first few days are smooth sailing, until one day, the twins won’t stop crying and keep throwing tantrums all day. Eventually, Billie breaks down and everyone is in inconsolable tears.

hola, mi cariño! Omg yes, i hope you like it 🥰🙈

——————————————————————————

You’re miles away on the East Coast, wrapped up in a whirlwind of meetings and conference calls. You know your wife, Billie, is at home with the twins, Ava and Mia, but you can’t fully shake that nagging worry in the back of your mind. You have a huge presentation today, an important milestone, yet your heart pulls you home to the chaos that you know must be unfolding.

Back home, Billie is valiantly attempting to manage the twins, but the day has taken its toll. The morning starts off with cheerful giggles that quickly turn into a cacophony of shrieks and tears. It feels like the universe has conspired to unleash the toddler tempest upon her. The house is a mess— the scattered toys, the half-eaten snacks, the colorful crayon drawings that might have started as art but are now more akin to modern chaos.

No matter how sweetly she hums their favorite lullabies or how many games of peek-a-boo she plays, nothing seems to quell their cries. Billie takes a deep breath, trying to channel patience, but her heart aches as their little faces contort in frustration. After what feels like an eternity of trying to soothe them, Billie finally manages to get the twins settled, but not without tears spilling over from her own eyes. The overwhelming sense of love mixed with exhaustion washes over her, leaving her breathless.

As she gently lays them down for their much-needed nap, tears swell in her eyes, blurring her vision. In this quiet moment, she reaches for her phone, her finger trembling slightly as she dials your number. It connects almost instantly.

“Y/N...” Her voice breaks slightly, audible strain threading through it. You’re on the other end, immediately alert to the catch in her voice, dropping everything as you hear her call your name. The worry melts away as your heart aches for her, even from a distance.

“Billie, my love, what’s wrong?” You ask, your voice soft and soothing.

“It’s just…everything. I thought today would be easier but the girls…” She swallows hard, a sob escaping as she tries to squeeze the words out. “They won’t stop crying, and I—”

You can feel every ounce of her struggle. You wish you could teleport home, to wrap your arms around her, whisper sweet reassurances, and give her the comforting squeeze she needs. “Breathe, baby. Breathe. You’re doing an amazing job. They love you so much. You’ve got this.”

At the sound of your voice, she settles a bit, needing the warmth of your love to wash over her. “I miss you,” she admits, her voice fragile but laced with affection. “I don’t know how you do this without losing it.”

You chuckle softly, imagining her tousled hair and kind eyes framed with the soft hues of their cozy home. “I don’t do it alone, remember? You’re always with me. Just like I’m with you now. You can do this until I’m home, I believe in you,” you reassure her, your heart swelling with admiration for everything she’s juggling.

“I wish you were here,” she whispers, a pout forming on her lips as her tired eyes close momentarily, comforting herself with the thought of you. “You usually know how to make it all better.”

“I promise, I’ll be there before you know it. Just a few more meetings to power through, okay?” you coo back, your voice gentle and soothing, reminding her of those quiet moments you've shared. “And remember, I love you and I love our little girls so very much.”

“I love you too, Mama,” she murmurs softly, blissfully sinking into the warmth of your affection even through the distance. You can almost feel her snuggling into the phone, enveloped by your spirit.

After hanging up, Billie wipes her tear-streaked cheeks and breathes deeply, feeling a flicker of energy return. She walks back to the twins’ room, brushing her fingers over the slumbering forms of Ava and Mia with a tender smile. There's a deep-rooted love in her gaze, the kind that triumphs over the toughness of the day.

For that moment, the room feels lighter. The storm may rage outside, but inside, your connection remains steady, a comforting reminder that even on the hardest days, she is never truly alone. And the way she whispers “Mama” to herself makes her heart swell with a mix of love and gratitude, knowing that with you by her side — even when you’re far away — they’ll get through the day together.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish angst

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jjjjeonww · 3 months ago

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kim mingyu - "i miss my lover."

genre - angst :( ~~in which fans find out you and mingyu are dating, so what happens next? inspired by, "Mr Loverman" by Ricky Montgomery.

on a chilly, rain-soaked eve, mingyu found himself compelled to seek out his beloved y/n, desperate for even a fleeting moment in her comforting embrace. The relentless paparazzi had driven them to this clandestine existence, stealing precious time together whenever opportunity allowed.

as he neared your apartment, his heart pounded with a potent mix of anticipation and dread. slipping inside using the spare key you'd entrusted him, he prayed for a few blissful hours lost in your warmth and love. alas, fate had other plans.

an inquisitive neighbor, spotting mingyu's arrival, wasted no time in alerting the media vultures. before dawn, scandalous images of him entering your apartment plastered every gossip rag and social media platform, accompanied by salacious headlines and wild speculation.

you, oblivious to the brewing storm, was jolted from slumber by an urgent call from her manager. the gravity of their predicament crashed down upon you as you grasped the extent of the damage. meanwhile, mingyu too faced the wrath of his own manager, a man aghast and appalled by his actions.

damage control kicked into high gear, with the agency releasing a statement that confirmed their relationship and announced an indefinite hiatus for the couple. fans erupted in outrage, feeling betrayed and deceived, their disappointment and anger palpable. a scant few voiced support, but the overwhelming majority made their displeasure known.

bound and gagged, you and mingyu could only watch in horror as their world unraveled. separated, phones confiscated, and movement restricted, you were left alone with naught but you thoughts, the weight of their choices, and the dire consequences that now confronted them. the love that once brought such joy now felt like a cruel curse, threatening to destroy all they held dear.

as the scandal unfurled, the couple was forced to confront the brutal realities of their situation. the public reaction was vicious, with hate-filled comments and death threats deluging their accounts. you and mingyu were branded traitors, liars, and worse, every move scrutinized and judged.

the agency, in a desperate bid to salvage their image, imposed strict surveillance and monitored the lovebirds' every action, limiting contact between them. you were dragged before the media for grueling interviews and press conferences, forced to defend your relationship and its love or your group's reputation. .... you sat across from mingyu, the dim lighting of the room casting your eyes, usually so full of love and adoration, were now dull and lifeless, reflecting the inner turmoil that consumed you. you stared down at your hands, folded neatly in your lap, unable to meet mingyu's gaze.

the weight of your choices and his, the consequences of your love, pressed down upon them like a physical force. the once joyful and carefree couple now carried the burden of betrayal and deceit, their every move scrutinized and judged by the unforgiving public eye.

"it's not that i don't want to be with you, mingyu," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "but look at what our love has brought us to. we're drowning in this mess, and i... i don't know if I'm strong enough to keep swimming."

.... weeks after the break up, fans were mad, sad, and happy. mad because why would you break up such a joyful and lovely couple? sad because mingyu and you couldn't be together. happy because some fans claimed you were theirs and mingyu was theirs too. those were all opinions though. but a fact is that: mingyu still misses you. so very dearly.

MUSIC: Mr Loverman, Ricky Montgomery. @min9yu_k: i miss my lover, man. Liked by: ylangelegy, gyubakeries, hanniescookie, etc. COMMENTS RESTRICTED BY OWNER.

#jjjjeonww #yunawritings<3 #svt #seventeen #mingyu x reader #mingyu angst #mingyu #kim mingyu #svt x reader #svt x you #svt angst #seventeen angst #idk i just put my moots there for no reason HAHAH #mr loverman #kim mingyu angst #mingyu x you #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you

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littleslaywrites · 4 months ago

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joy to the world | spencer reid x bau!reader

summary: you surprise spencer with big news on christmas morning

word count: 1.1k

cw: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of birth control, JJ heavily featured (no jeid mentions)

The presents had all been opened, and you were sitting on the couch with Spencer in front of the fireplace. Crackles from the fire mixed with the sound of the radio playing Christmas music. You were dipping cookies you’d made the night before in a shared glass of milk. His arm is wrapped around your waist and your head is on his shoulder.

You'd been anxious all day, waiting for the right time to give him his last gift. You knew he’d be excited, but you also knew it’d change your whole lives.

It had been just over a week since you’d found out you were pregnant. JJ was the first to know, being the one who suggested it as a possibility. You’d been nauseous for a week, hardly having the appetite for anything. Any strong smell made it worse. JJ has suspected something was up, but what made her voice it to you was when you mentioned your period was late. It was a passing comment, but she pulled you aside, mid-case, insisting that you take a test.

“Could you be pregnant?” she asked, whispering as to not alert the others in the local police office you were set up in.

“I mean, I guess,” you said, trying to remember if you had missed a pill recently. You realized that, with your frequent time zone changes, you had probably mixed up times at some point. “Oh god, yeah, I could be.”

“What are you thinking?” JJ asked, sensing your nervousness.

You had talked about having kids with Spencer, so you were sure he’d be excited, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

“I’m thinking a lot of things,” you respond. She grabs one of your hands, subtle enough to not draw attention.

“We can find a drugstore tonight and get a test for you,” she says as the two of you are called back into the conference room.

That night, you two gathered in your hotel room. The test sits face down on the bathroom counter, phone timer counting down. When the alarm goes off, you don’t move from where you’re sitting side-by-side on the floor.

“Turn it over,” you tell JJ.

“Me?” she says. The two of you go back and forth on who has to turn it over, giggling like school girls. Your play argument ends with the decision that you’ll flip it together.

“What do you want it to say?” she asks when both of you are standing in front of the test.

“I think…” you hesitate for a second, considering the two possibilities. “I think I want it to be positive.”

You imagine your life with Spencer as a family, creating a new human that’s half him, half you.

The two of you count down from 3, flipping it over, revealing the tiny words.

Pregnant

“Oh my god,” you say, glancing over at JJ.

“Oh my god!” she says, grabbing you by the arms. “You’re going to be a mom!” She’s jumping up and down, almost more excited than you are. You’re standing there in shock as she pulls you into a bear hug.

Pulling back, she asks “How are you going to tell Spencer?”

That’s how you two came up with the idea to tell him on Christmas. JJ knew just as well as you did that Spencer would be overjoyed. You could hardly keep the secret from him, wanting to tell everyone you knew. Penelope knew something was up, catching onto the looks JJ gave you. It was torture not being able to tell her, wanting Spencer to find out before the rest of your team. It was almost impossible to have any secrets in an office full of profilers.

“I’ve got something else for you,” you say as Spencer is cuddling you with the cookie tin on top of his legs.

“What is it?” he says.

You stand up, getting the small gift bag you had hidden inside your closet. “So, you know how you like to journal?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I got you one that you’ll be needing soon.”

You hand him the gift, sitting back down as your heart pounds inside your chest.

He opens it, revealing a small book that says “First Time Dad’s Journal” on the front.

You try to read Spencer’s eyes, shuffling through a range of emotions. “Are you…” he trails off, meeting your eyes.

“Yeah,” you say smiling. He grabs your hands in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” he says, borderline giddy.

“Completely serious.”

He pulls you close, holding you tight. When he pulls away, you see light tears brimming in his eyes. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” He lightly kisses you, smiles breaking across both your faces.

“Who knows?” he asks, keeping your hands locked inside his.

“Just JJ. She was there when I found out, but I wanted you to know before everyone else.”

Spencer can’t stop smiling. His eyes are studying you, seeing you in a whole new way. “When will we tell them?”

“I guess we have to tell Hotch pretty soon. Once we tell Penelope, I’m sure everyone else will find out.” You both giggle, imagining how she’ll react.

The moment settles, both of you slipping into the quiet of the evening. You find a place again at his side, him holding you even closer than before.

“I want to be a good dad for you,” he says quietly, “for you both.”

“I know you will.” There’s no doubt in your mind. You’ve seen him with kids before. “You being worried shows that you care.”

He hums, hand finding your stomach. “I just don’t want to be like my father,” he says, almost whispering.

“You won’t. You’re already nothing like him.” One of your hands goes to his hair, playing with it. You wish there was a way to make him know how perfect he’ll be as a father. He’ll know when the baby gets here, you think.

Silence overtakes you, the both of you imagining your new future. You’d always planned on having children, but it felt more real than ever before. You can almost picture another set of legs running around the apartment.

Your phone rings, breaking through the quiet. You answer it, Hotch on the other end apologizing for interrupting your holiday to inform you that you have a case.

Getting ready to go, Spencer stops you in front of the bathroom mirror by hugging you from behind.

“Please don’t get all overprotective,” you say.

“You know I can’t promise that.”

Spencer pulls you into one last kiss before you head to the office.

author's note: merry christmas to all of you that celebrate!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #mgg #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #spencer reid one shot

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