#and i just really really really hate the sound /sweep makes - i think it should count as griefing to afk in public spaces doing it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrsfancyferrari · 4 months ago

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Mistletoe Magic

Summary: OP81 + “What are you doing with that mistletoe– oh.”

Song: All I Want for Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 8.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You’ve liked Oscar for a while now—longer than you probably want to admit. Maybe it started as a silly crush, like the kind you read about in romance novels where the protagonist can’t help but blush at the mere sight of her crush. But this was different.

Oscar wasn’t just a flicker of attraction; he was a spark that ignited every time he entered the room.

Everyone around you seemed to sense it, from your friends to his teammates. You’ve witnessed plenty of sideways glances over the months, most of them playful nudges and knowing whispers, but they fell on deaf ears.

The one person who mattered—the one you were enamored with—had no clue.

With a frustrated sigh, you called Lando one evening. Your heart raced as you paced your apartment, the soft hum of your phone ringing soothingly in your ear.

“Lando, I can’t take it anymore,” you ranted as soon as he picked up.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice, probably because he could already sense your exasperation.

“It’s Oscar! I don’t know if he hates me or something!”

“Hate is a strong word,” he laughed, and you could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“It sure feels like it. He can’t even look at me, let alone speak to me! Every time I try to approach him, he finds some excuse to leave!”

Lando kept his tone light. “Okay, give me the details. You’re saying the guy is terrified of you?”

“It’s not funny!” You found yourself arguing, but even you had to stifle a chuckle. Lando was right; it just sounded ridiculous. “He’s not scared. He’s just… I don’t know, awkward. And the way he follows me on social media—not that I mind, but…”

“But? You’d rather he didn’t like your posts? Is that how you feel? Because I think he’s into you.”

“But he never talks to me! He just flicks and swipes through my photos like a ghost!” You dropped to the couch, running a hand through your hair. “What does it mean?”

Lando paused for a moment. “Maybe he’s just shy? You’re not exactly a wallflower, you know. You’re dazzling. He might feel intimidated.”

“Intimidated? By me?” You leaned back, disbelief etched across your face, but Lando’s sincerity hung in the air, urging you to consider it.

“I mean it,” Lando insisted. “Just imagine yourself in his shoes, surrounded by all his friends. He probably thinks you’re out of his league, and his social media habits? Maybe he’s trying to muster up the courage to say something. When was the last time you actually had a conversation?”

You furrowed your brow, the memories coming back like scenes from a vague film. “I think the last time we really talked was at that charity event a couple of months ago. We barely spoke for five minutes, and then he vanished.”

“Then you need a plan. A real plan. You can’t let him sweep away like that.” Lando’s voice dripped with assurance, as if he believed everything you felt was not only valid but fixable.

“What do you suggest? Should I just somehow trap him in a corner of a party?”

“Not exactly how I’d phrase it, but yeah, kinda,” Lando chuckled. “You’ve got to make your move, even if that means grabbing him right after practice or before the next race.”

The idea spiraled through your mind, one that filled you with both hope and anxiety. The next race was only a few days away. You had to do something.

The streets of Baku were alive with energy, an intoxicating mix of adrenaline and excitement that filled the air as the Grand Prix weekend unfolded.

You stood just outside the McLaren garage, your heart racing not from the prospect of the upcoming F1 race, but from being in the same space as the drivers you idolized—especially the charming Oscar Piastri.

“Hey, are you sure you’re ready for this?” Lola smirked, her eyes sparkling with teasing mischief. “I mean, with the way you look at Oscar, we might need to tie you down.”

“Shut up!” you laughed, swatting her arm, but inside, you felt a flutter of nerves. How could you even think about talking to him when your heart did backflips every time you laid eyes on his curly hair and boyish grin? “He doesn’t even know I exist.”

Aaliyah chimed in, her voice playful yet conspiratorial, “Or maybe he’s just shy! Guys act like that when they like someone, you know?”

“Please, you’re giving me false hope,” you sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “That’s the last thing I need today with the race and everything else going on.”

The paddock was bustling with activity. Mechanics darted between cars, engineers discussed strategies, and the sound of laughter mixed with the roar of engines.

“Let’s go inside,” Lola urged, pushing you toward the McLaren garage.

As you walked in, the familiar vibrant colors of the McLaren team enveloped you. There, surrounded by the scent of burnt rubber and the hum of teamwork, stood Oscar, deeply engaged in a conversation with the engineers, his focus absolute.

You mustered every ounce of courage, but just as you stepped closer, your gaze accidentally caught his. Time seemed to freeze.

For seven whole seconds, you locked eyes, and there was an undeniable spark, or perhaps you were imagining it, because just as quickly, he turned his head away, his cheeks crimson.

“See? What did I tell you?” you whispered to your friends, who were equally giddy with excitement.

“He totally likes you!” Lola teased, grinning from ear to ear while giving you a playful elbow to the ribs.

“Guys, he doesn’t want to talk to me. Trust me,” you replied, trying to sound unfazed, but it was difficult given the flutter in your chest.

“Did you see that? He totally likes you!” Lola declared with a gleeful bounce. “He looked at you like you were the only person in the room!”

“It’s not what you think,” you replied, trying to sound unfazed, but your heart was pounding in your chest. “He probably just didn’t expect me to be here.”

“Stop!” Lola said, feigning outrage. “You can’t keep denying this. You’ve been crushing on him for what, a year? Just go over there and talk to him!”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the knot in your stomach tightened. “It’s not that easy! He’s way out of my league.”

“Pfft. As if!” Lola tossed her hair dramatically. “You are amazing! If he can’t see that, then he’s the one missing out.”

Before you could muster another protest, the tide of the crowd shifted, and Lando walked over. “Hey Y/N,” he said, breaking into a warm smile. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

“Uh, sure…” you stammered, glancing back at Lola and Aayila, who were both wiggling their eyebrows in a way that was both comical and slightly alarming.

“Okay, just stay around here and do not go over to him,” you warned your friends and with a playful roll of your eyes, you followed him through the throng of people.

As you walked away, you didn’t see how Oscar’s gaze remained fixed on you, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his deep brown eyes.

Lando led you to a quieter corner of the venue, away from the pulsing crowd. “I just wanted to make sure you’re having a good time,” he said, leaning against the wall casually. “I know these events can be overwhelming.”

“Yeah, I’m good, just a bit… you know,” you mumbled, trying to shake off the embarrassment of being away from your friends. You took a deep breath, gesturing broadly with your hands.

“The music is great, and the atmosphere is amazing. I just—” you hesitated. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just nervous about being around all these people? You know it's a completely different atmosphere.”

Lando nodded knowingly. “I get that. If it helps, I’m here if you need a distraction from all the noise.”

Just as he said that, Lola's voice cut through the chatter like a knife.

“Y/N! Come back!” She was waving frantically, her other arm pointing toward Oscar, who was now staring directly at you.

Your stomach dropped. Lando caught your eye, his expression shifting from concern to amusement. “Looks like you have an admirer,” he said, nudging you playfully.

“Don’t even! He’s probably curious about why I’m speaking to you,” you quickly denied, cheeks flushing.

“Are you sure? Because it looks like he wants to speak to you instead of me,” Lando teased, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat on your cheeks didn’t fade. “Stop it. Oscar’s just being polite.”

“Polite? Y/N, that look he’s giving you is way more than polite,” he chuckled.

Despite yourself, you risked another glance at Oscar. He was still looking in your direction, a small smile creeping across his lips.

What was even more annoying was how attractive he looked in that moment, leaning against the wall, confidently engaging with a couple of people.

“Okay, maybe he isn’t just being polite,” you conceded, trying to feign indifference.

Lando leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What’s the deal with you two, anyway? I thought he 'hated' you.”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual. “He does hate me maybe just not today.” But even as you said it, the truth felt slanted. There was something more that bubbled underneath the surface, something you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

“Right,” Lando said, raising an eyebrow. “All I see are two people who clearly have some unresolved tension,” he smirked, clearly enjoying the fact that he could tease you.

Before you could reply, there was an announcement over the loudspeakers instructing all drivers to head to their garages and prepare for the race.

“See you later?” Lando asked, giving you a easy smile.

“Of course! Good luck, Lando,” you said, genuinely wishing him well. You knew how hard he trained and how much this race meant to him.

As he walked away, your attention shifted to Oscar, who was a few spaces down, adjusting his helmet strap. When he caught your eye, he hesitated for a moment, those familiar warm brown eyes locking onto yours.

He looked almost bashful as he realized you were watching him. “Good luck, Oscar!” you called out, trying to sound casual, though your heart raced.

His face broke into a magnificent grin, cheeks reddening slightly. “Thanks, Y/N!” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of excitement and appreciation.

He glanced down, fiddling with his gear as he turned to head into the garage.

You watched him disappear behind the metal doors, an inexplicable thrill coursing through you.

It was silly, was it not? Your hope had doubled just from this interaction but you knew it meant nothing in Oscar's eyes. . .

The adrenaline still buzzed in the air as the final laps of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix raced through everyone’s minds. The street circuit glimmered under the twilight sun as Oscar Piastri, the newly crowned champion of the day, burst from his car, his helmet clutched under his arm.

The roar of the crowd echoed off the old buildings surrounding the circuit, celebrating the victory that had become so hard-earned.

You had watched the entire race with bated breath, your heart pounding with each corner he navigated, each overtake he executed. You couldn’t believe it—Oscar had done it.

The memory of his previous win played faintly in your mind, but it didn't compare to this moment. This was the race where it felt like he had truly battled every inch of the track and his competitors for the victory.

“Are you guys going to come?” you asked, as you stood up, barely able to contain your excitement. Your fingertips tingled with anticipation.

“Nah, we’ll watch the celebrations from here. Go congratulate your boyfriend,” Aaliyah teased, her eyes sparkling as she nudged you playfully.

You felt a rush of warmth spread across your cheeks at the mention of the word “boyfriend.”

“We’re not dating, Aaliyah! It’s… it’s complicated!” you stammered, your excitement mingling with nerves.

“Complicated, huh?” she continued, her smirk undeniable. “You should probably clear that up once you get down there.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. It was more complicated than Aaliyah could imagine.

Today, watching him work so incredibly hard and finally claim that victory felt like a turning point that ignited a fire in you.

“Right,” you said, gathering courage and taking a deep breath. “I’ll be right back!”

With that, you made your way to the pit lane where his team was erupting in cheers, everyone surrounding Oscar as they hoisted him high above their heads.

The sight made your heart swell—he was a champion, and he was thriving.

When you reached the edge of the celebration, you watched him for a moment, his laughter ringing out bright and infectious. He had that light in his eyes, a rare spark that shone brightly after the stress of the race.

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to interrupt the joyful chaos surrounding him.

Your moment of hesitation was abruptly interrupted when you felt a gentle tap on your arm. Turning, you found Tom, Oscar's race engineer, standing there with a warm, inviting smile.

"Y/N, should I bring you closer to Oscar?" he asked politely, as though he could sense your internal struggle.

You weren't quite sure how he even knew your name. You'd never formally introduced yourself, nor had you visited the paddock often enough for recognition. But amidst the whirlwind of happiness, you pushed your curiosity aside.

"Yes, please," you responded, the anticipation racing through you. Your heart pounded at the thought of actually getting to congratulate Oscar in person.

Tom nodded, leading you through the throngs of people, laughter, and cheerful chaos. The closer you got, the more your nerves fluttered. What would you say?

“Congratulations” felt too simple for what you wanted to express—too small for the monumental achievement he had just secured.

As you stepped closer, you could see Oscar surrounded by a group of teammates and a few friends.

“Oscar!” Tom called, breaking into the cheers. Oscar turned, and his face lit up even more when he spotted you.

“Y/N!” Oscar exclaimed, a hint of surprise in his voice. The way he said your name, like it was a sweet melody, made your heart skip.

You took a step closer, fueled by an impulse you weren’t sure would be welcomed.

“Congratulations, Oscar!” you said, and in an uncharacteristic burst of spontaneity, you pulled him into a hug. The warmth of his body enveloped you, and for a moment, the world around you faded.

It was weird to hug him—Oscar was not the type of person who hugged a lot. He was usually the stoic, strong type, but today was different.

You felt his arms wrap tentatively around you, and you almost pulled away out of embarrassment, but the thrill of the moment kept you there.

“Wow, I didn’t expect a hug,” he chuckled, his breath warm against your hair. “I mean, thank you! It means a lot coming from you.”

You released him slowly, feeling your cheeks heat up. "You were amazing out there. I could hardly believe it when you scored that final goal! The crowd went wild!"

His eyes sparkled with genuine happiness. “It was a team effort, honestly. But…” he paused, looking into your eyes, “I’m glad you were here to see it.”

In that moment, the world around you faded, the roaring crowd and chaotic celebrations dulled to a soft echo as his words hung suspended between you.

The emotions in his voice and eyes overflowed, washing over you like a wave, and it affected you more than you wanted to admit. You could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks; it felt like a stage light had been trained on you alone.

“I…,” you began, swallowing hard. “I need some air.”

The last thing you wanted was to break down under the weight of your feelings in front of everyone.

You patted his chest gently, though your touch lingered, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “Go celebrate with the team; you deserve it. I’ll be around later,” you managed to say, your voice a mix of encouragement and self-preservation.

Letting go of him felt like releasing a balloon into the sky, and as you stepped back, you couldn’t shake the weight of what had just transpired.

He hesitated, searching your face for something—reassurance, clarity, whatever it was, he didn’t find it. But he nodded, albeit reluctantly, and turned to join his teammates.

You watched as he melded back into the celebration, his laughter ringing out above the rest.

The moment he turned away, you felt an overwhelming storm of emotions.

You had never had someone like Oscar reciprocate your feelings, and that scared you. The crush you had nurtured for so long was starting to sprout, but the uncertainty about what that might mean felt suffocating.

You wandered toward a quieter corner of the stadium, trying to catch your breath. Leaning against a cool metal railing, you watched the team celebrate, the glint of victory sparkling in their eyes.

Everyone was so happy, so carefree. You could hear Oscar’s laughter clearly, a sound that made your chest constrict with a mixture of joy and fear.

Why was this so complicated?

The bustling atmosphere around the racetrack was electric, but finding McLaren's hospitality room amidst the chaos of the after-race frenzy proved to be a little more challenging than expected.

A couple of minutes passed as you navigated through the throngs of jubilant fans and team members, your pulse quickening with each wave of color and sound, when you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder.

You turned sharply to see Lola, her blonde curls bouncing with enthusiasm, eyes bright with excitement.

“Hey! We’re going to the club to celebrate Oscar’s win later. You coming?” she asked, her voice almost melodic over the murmur of the crowd.

You hesitated, wringing your hands nervously as a wave of uncertainty washed over you. “Um, I’m not sure…” You couldn’t shake the thought of retreating to your safe, quiet apartment instead.

“Oh, come on! It won’t be the same without you,” Lola urged, her eyes wide with sincerity. “Oscar was asking where you went. He really wants you there!”

There it was again—the familiar tightness in your chest that accompanied thoughts of Oscar. The way he had smiled when he had crossed the finish line, the joy that radiated from him like an aura. “Really? He said that?”

“Of course!” Lola replied, rolling her eyes playfully. “You’re his lucky charm. He’ll be bummed if you miss out.”

You bit your lip, weighing your options. It would be so easy to slip away, return to that quiet corner of your life where things felt safe and uncomplicated. But was that truly what you wanted?

The thought of Oscar’s disappointment tugged at your heart, igniting a flicker of bravery deep within.

“All right, I’ll go,” you finally said, your voice steadier than you felt.

Lola beamed at you, the corners of her mouth curving with delight as she spun around. “Yay! I’ll meet you in a bit then! You have to look fabulous, so hurry!”

With that, she bounced off into the crowd, leaving you standing there, a rush of excitement and anxiety swirling within you. You had just enough time to get to your apartment, so you hurriedly made your way back to your place, thoughts racing.

The moment you stepped inside, you knew you had to pick the perfect outfit.

The air in the apartment felt charged with anticipation as you rummaged through your closet, trying to piece together the perfect outfit.

After a long week filled with monotony, tonight was a chance to step out of your comfort zone. You settled on a sleek black club dress, the kind that hugged your figure in all the right places. The fabric shimmered subtly under the light, giving you an air of elegance while the plunging neckline added just a hint of daring.

You paired it with your favorite strappy heels that always made you feel like you were walking on clouds.

With a final glance in the mirror, you felt the tiniest bit of confidence swell within you. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different. You pushed a few errant strands of hair behind your ear, took a deep breath, and stepped out the door.

As you made your way through the bustling city streets, the energy around you buzzed with life, the neon lights of the club flickering in the distance.

When you finally arrived, you could feel the beat of the bass thumping in your chest. The air was thick with excitement, laughter mingling with the rhythmic pulse of the music.

You spotted Lola right away. She was a whirlwind of energy, chatting animatedly with a few friends, her laughter cutting through the noise like a beacon. You pushed through the crowd, your heart racing not just from the music but the thought of seeing Oscar.

As soon as Lola saw you, her eyes lit up like a thousand fireworks, and she waved her arms as if she were a traffic conductor guiding you through the chaos.

“There she is!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling over with excitement.

“Lola! You look amazing!” you replied, enveloping her in a hug.

“Thanks! But look at you in that dress! Wow! You’re going to turn some heads tonight.” She stepped back, her eyes sweeping over your outfit with awe. “Are you ready for a night of fun?”

“Let’s hope so! Just promise to help me if I start to fade into the background,” you laughed nervously.

Loka grinned. “You will not fade. Just follow my lead!”

You two made your way deeper into the club, where the lights spun like stars and bodies moved in a kaleidoscope of color.

The pulsating bass of the club thrummed through your chest as you and Lola maneuvered deeper into the throng of bodies. Lights twinkled overhead, cutting through the smoky air like stars scattered across a midnight sky, and everywhere you looked, people danced with abandon, swaying to the rhythm of the music.

You felt the energy of the crowd washing over you, but in the back of your mind, you couldn't shake off the nervousness that settled there.

“Apparently Oscar’s coming later,” Lola said, her voice a melody lifted above the noise as she twirled, her skirt flaring out around her.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name, though thinking of him made your stomach churn; the last time you saw him, your feelings had bubbled over in an awkward, embarrassing moment.

You’d pushed him away, confused and overwhelmed, leaving him staring after you with a look you couldn’t decipher—a blend of disappointment and surprise.

“I can’t wait to see him! I just… I should probably apologize today,” you replied, trying to sound lighthearted, but your voice betrayed the nerves knotting tight in your belly.

Lola chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just don’t trip over your words. That would be classic you!”

You shot her a playful glare. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

A few minutes later, the music faded slightly as the DJ called for attention. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he boomed through the speakers, “We have a special guest in the house tonight—the winner of the race! Give it up for Oscar Piastri!”

The club erupted into cheers, and your heart raced as you turned to face the entrance. The door swung open, revealing Oscar, flanked by Lando and Max, both radiant with victory and excitement. The crowd surged toward them, voices rising in a joyous cacophony.

“There he is!” Lola shouted over the music, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of the moment. “Go on! Go say hi!”

But as you tried to get closer, a wall of fans obscured the pathway, blocking you from reaching him. You clenched your fists in frustration.

Why was fate working against you?

“Let’s just wait by the bar,” you suggested, resigned. “I’ll wait until the fans clear out, and then I can talk to him.”

“Suit yourself, but I’m going to the dance floor!” Lola laughed, waving as she disappeared into the mass of moving bodies.

You downed a drink, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of hope and despair. Time passed, and you remained at the bar, only to see the fans crowding around Oscar, capturing selfies and shouting his name.

He seemed gracious yet slightly overwhelmed, laughter spilling from him as he interacted with the crowd.

As the minutes dragged on and your drink count steadily rose, you felt your heart sink lower. It was hard to swallow as more people pressed in, and when you finally dared to look back, your heart lurched painfully.

There, in the midst of the frenetic energy of the club, stood Oscar with a beautiful girl, their lips brushing together in an unexpected kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat, and a rush of tears threatened to spill over.

You turned away, biting down on your lip. “What am I even doing here?” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head as if that could shake off the image before it lodged itself into your mind like a stubborn burr.

It was absurd, really. You hadn’t even realized you had that much feelings for him until this very moment, and now, every insecurity you possessed rose up like a tide.

The club seemed to swell and pulse around you, but its vibrant atmosphere faded into silence.

The laughter turned into whispers, and you could almost hear your own thoughts screaming: He’s out of your league. She’s everything you’re not.

Suddenly, you felt claustrophobic, trapped in a cycle of unwanted feelings and doubt.

As if on autopilot, you threaded your way through the crowd, pushing past gyrating bodies, dodging the strobe lights that seemed to explode in front of your eyes. You reached the exit and stepped outside.

The fresh air hit your face like a splash of water, shockingly crisp against the sticky humidity of the club. You leaned against the cool brick wall of the alley beside the entrance and breathed deeply, trying to get your bearings.

“What did I expect?” you whispered to the empty night. “Of course he’d choose someone like her.”

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out, and a message popped up. It was from Lola.

“Where did you go? I thought you were in there! I found a booth by the bar! Get back in! :)”

You almost typed back, “I’ll stay out here forever,” but instead, you just hit the home button and sighed. The night was still young. Maybe there was more to this evening than you could see.

You took a moment, your mind racing. The truth was, you liked Oscar. Like, really liked him.

You had hoped that tonight might be the night you could tell him, but that seemed impossible now. . . .

You sit on your bed, the soft quilt embraced by the evening light filtering through your curtains. The room feels heavy, shadows gather, and silence reigns from the world outside.

You set your phone down, and the earlier events flood back.

The memory of that night at the club is vivid. The pulsating beat of the music had echoed through your heart, but all that vibrancy shattered like glass when you spotted them.

Oscar—your Oscar—leaning in, kissing someone else. You had felt the blood drain from your face, the weight of a thousand crushed dreams falling on your shoulders.

“Why did I come here?” you whisper, even though your bedroom feels like a cocoon, wrapped away from the world outside.

In a moment of impulsivity, you had blocked Oscar on every social media platform you could think of. His posts would only serve as daggers, and you wouldn’t let him hurt you like that.

You wonder if he even noticed. Lando, his best friend and a thousand times more perceptive, had already begun to question you.

Just moments before, your phone buzzed with a text. It was Lando, naturally, with his usual bluntness: “Hey, why did you leave the club yesterday??? Did you get sick or something?”

The truth clawed at you, but you didn’t owe them any explanation. So, you replied with a simple lie.

“Just felt tired. I’ve been working too much lately.”

You knew he wouldn’t buy it, but you hoped to evade the topic long enough for things to quiet down.

Turning your phone face down, you sigh and lean back against your pillows. The weight of the night settles over you—anger, sadness, longing—and then your phone buzzes again.

“Hey, you okay?” Lando’s message flashes across the screen.

Your heart races. “Yeah, just tired,” you type, heart pounding, expecting his response any moment.

“You don’t sound like it,” Lando replies, and you can almost picture him furrowing his brow, a concerned expression tightening his features. The thought stings, a remembrance of all the times he has been there for you, holding space in his easily approachable way.

“Seriously, Lando, I’m fine. Just needed some air,” you type back, each word more strained than the last.

He replies quickly. “You want me to come over? We can have a movie night or something.”

As tempting as it sounds, the idea both comforts and terrifies you. You know Lando well enough to recognize that he’d dig deeper into your feelings, convinced something is wrong.

Still, there's a part of you that craves that familiarity, the bond you share.

“No, it’s all good. Just need some time alone,” you respond, unsure of your own feelings.

“That’s not really your style, though. You’re always inviting me over. What’s up?” Lando pushes back gently, a sense of worry lacing through his words.

You can’t hide from the truth forever, but admitting your feelings about Oscar feels too raw, too exposed. Lando’s your friend, but he’s also Oscar’s best friend; anything you say could wind up back to him, and you’re not ready for that.

“I just saw something—something I didn’t want to see at the club,” you finally muster, the honesty spilling from your fingertips despite your reservations.

There’s a pause—a beat of silence—and for a moment, you wonder if he’s already piecing it together.

“You mean Oscar?” Lando asks, his tone softer but still probing. “What about him?”

“Nothing.” The word feels hollow, the truth clawing at your throat. “I just... I just need some space, alright?”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Lando persists. “You and Oscar were pretty tight when he won until…”

You cut him off. “Until he kissed a girl right in front of me?” The anger again simmers to the surface. “I think I have a right to be upset.”

Another pause from Lando, and you can sense the concern shift in his tone. “Do you want to talk about it? Because I’m here, you know. You can tell me.”

The dam inside you threatens to break. The memories of your laughter, the fun late-night conversations, the promises whispered amongst friends; they flood your mind like a tidal wave, overwhelming you.

“What am I supposed to say, Lando? That I got my heart broken? That I liked him more than a friend and now he’s off with some random girl?”

A soft sigh echoes from his end. “That’s... tough, I get it. But you know Oscar, he—”

“Knows how to play with everyone’s feelings, apparently.” Your voice sharpens, the words tasting bitter. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Lando insists, and there’s a quiet strength in his tone that covers you like a reassuring blanket.

“I...” The protest slips from your lips, but you can’t help yourself. It comes rushing out. “I’ve liked Oscar for so long, Lando! And to see him throw it all away with someone else was just... it was like the ground fell from beneath me. I don’t want to feel like this. It hurts.”

Lando falls silent on the other end, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve crossed a line, if you’ve shared too much.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he finally asks, his voice gently probing. “I would have kept my mouth shut about it—”

“I didn’t want to ruin what we had,” you admit, the weight behind your voice strong now. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“All friendships can survive that.” His tone softens. “And honestly, it’s okay to feel hurt. It’s more than okay; it’s natural.”

Suddenly overwhelmed, tears brim at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I just wanted to be happy, Lando. And now, I don’t know... I feel lost.”

“Hey, listen to me.” Lando’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts. “You are so much more than how Oscar makes you feel. It’s his loss if he can’t see you for the incredible person you are.”

The resolve in his words wraps around you like a lifeline. A small warmth unfurls in your chest, a flicker of hope that perhaps you can heal from this hurt, that you can find a way to be more than just a side character in someone else's story.

“Thanks, Lando,” you say softly, the sincerity warming your heart.

“Anytime.” He pauses for a moment and then adds, “But I'm coming over tomorrow for that movie night; we’re going to drown ourselves in popcorn and bad romantic comedies until you feel better.”

You smile, though it’s still fragile. “Okay, deal.”

As you hang up, the shadows in your room seem less daunting, the weight a little lighter. Just maybe, you think as you finally allow your eyelids to flutter closed, the dawn will bring a new perspective.

And perhaps, amongst friendship and healing, you’ll find your way back to yourself.

The next day, Lando sat across from you on your well-worn couch, a colorful array of snacks spread between you. The smell of popcorn and sweets filled the air, a comforting distraction.

You had planned this night as a refuge from your thoughts, to sink into the warmth of a rom-com and ignore the knot tightening your stomach at the memories of Oscar.

As the movie played—a predictable plot about two people destined to be together—you tried to focus, but the image of Oscar’s lips brushing against that girl’s haunted you.

Halfway through the film, Lando suddenly turned toward you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you mad at him?”

“What?” You blinked, stunned by the abruptness of the question.

“Are you mad at Oscar?” he pressed, his eyes unyielding.

“Lando, we agreed on watching a movie today, not discussing this,” you warned, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth, hoping to drown your emotions under buttery goodness.

“I know! But I spoke to Oscar—”

You cut him off, “No, I don’t want to hear it! I’ll probably just get more upset, and I really don’t want that right now.”

Lando raised his hands in surrender, looking both apologetic and mildly amused. “Okay, okay. No talking about Oscar.”

“Thank you,” you replied, the tension easing a bit. You leaned back, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile. “But since you made me mad, you know what the punishment is.”

Lando’s eyes widened in horror. “No! Not the ‘punishment’!”

You grinned despite yourself, reveling in the playful banter. “Yes! You brought it upon yourself. I hope you brought your dance shoes."

“I did not!” he exclaimed, his face buried in his hands. “Please, anything but that!”

You chuckled. “What’s the matter, Lando? You afraid of a little dancing?”

His gaze peeked through his fingers. “You know I can’t dance! I’ll embarrass myself!”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning closer, the earlier sadness momentarily forgotten. “It’ll be fun!”

“Fine! But I swear if I break a leg...”

“Which you won’t!” You laughed, getting up and putting on an upbeat song.

You opened your arms theatrically, ready to embrace the moment. “Come on! Show me your best moves!”

With a reluctant sigh, Lando stood up, giving you a resigned grin. “Okay, but just to prove to you how awful I am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

As the music thumped through the apartment, Lando executed the most exaggerated dance moves imaginable—one hand in the air, feet sliding across the wooden floor. You couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably.

“Is this your best?” you challenged, twirling into your own clumsy routine.

“Okay, okay! Here goes nothing!” He leaped into an interpretive dance that was equal parts flailing and sheer comedy, and you collapsed back onto the couch in a fit of giggles.

“Lando, you’re a legend,” you wheezed between breaths.

He finally stopped dancing, slightly out of breath and grinning. “I think I’ll stick to racing, thanks. But, how about you?”

You paused for a moment, your laughter fading. “Honestly? I just don't get why he’d kiss someone else. I thought...”

“Thought what?” Lando pressed gently, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

“I thought he liked me,” you admitted quietly. “I thought maybe there was something between us. But seeing him with someone else, it just hurts. I guess I feel foolish.”

“Hey.” Lando took a step closer and sat beside you. “You’re not foolish. Oscar’s the one who’s a bit of a jerk for messing things up. He should know how amazing you are. You deserve someone who doesn’t make you question their intentions.”

You looked at him, and while his words comforted you, they also tore at a different part of your heart. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” Lando smiled softly at you. “And you’ve got all the time in the world to find the right person. Just don’t let Oscar’s choices define how you see yourself, okay?”

You nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m just... trying to sort it all out.”

“Well, until you do, I'm here. Movie marathons, dance-offs, and endless supplies of snacks included,” he declared, gesturing to the spread between you as if it were an unbreakable vow.

“Thanks, Lando,” you said, appreciating his unwavering support. “Really.”

As you settled back together to resume the movie, the weight of the world felt just a little lighter. Sure, thoughts of Oscar still lingered, but Lando’s friendship reminded you that you weren’t alone in this.

You had someone who not only understood but also cared enough to make you laugh through the pain.

And for that, you were grateful. . . .

You decided to skip the next races.

"I need to clear my head," you thought, convincing yourself that the distance would help you forget the feelings you harbored for the Australian driver.

Instead, you found yourself engrossed in your studies on campus. Why watch the races on TV when you could be in the paddock?

But here you were, torn between wanting to support your team and an overwhelming need to shield your heart from Oscar.

When Lando skillfully maneuvered his way through the track, you stifled your cheers in classrooms, mouth clamping shut when he crossed the finish line.

"Focus on your studies," you’d remind yourself, but the pride bubbling within you was impossible to contain.

For every overtaking move Oscar pulled off that sparked a rush inside you, you felt the weight of your heart, one that couldn’t help but cheer for a man who had stolen your thoughts.

Before you knew it, the championship was upon you, and McLaren had claimed victory.

In a moment of exhilaration, you snapped a picture of yourself in McLaren merchandise, a radiant smile gracing your face. You shared it on social media with the caption, “I’ll always bleed McLaren orange! #TeamMcLaren."

Within moments, notifications flooded your screen: Lando’s account liked your post and the McLaren admin account liking with a comment that read, “We miss seeing you in the paddock 🧡!”

It was bittersweet, a confirmation that you still held a place with the team—but it brought memories of the paddock flooding back, along with reminders of Oscar.

When the invitation to the team’s Christmas party arrived, it triggered a mix of excitement and dread. Should you go and face him? You hesitated, the idea dawning over you like a storm cloud.

“Just come, please!” Lando’s persistent voice broke through your musings. “You’ll regret it if you don’t. It’s going to be fun, and besides, I’ll be there. You know it won’t be the same without you.”

“Lando,” you pleaded, biting your lip, the thought of Oscar’s lingering gaze causing a swell of anxiety. “What if I see him? I’m not ready.”

“Then be ready! Just wear something orange and channel your inner Papaya spirit. I’ll look out for you,” Lando grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. You finally relented. “Okay! One night—just one!”

On the night of the party, you chose a shimmering orange dress that hugged your figure, giving off a radiant glow that felt gratifying and powerful.

Grabbing your jacket, you inhaled deeply before stepping into the vibrant atmosphere of the venue, where laughter exploded and voices danced around you.

The place was bustling with McLaren energy—feasting, drinks flowing, and music swelling. It felt like a family reunion, everyone cherishing the victory together.

The festive spirit washed over you, and for a moment, you forgot about Oscar.

“Y/N! You actually came!” Lando’s voice cut through the crowd, and you turned to see him beaming at you, his dark hair glistening under the lights.

“Yeah, I had no choice. You would have dragged me out of my house otherwise,” you shot back playfully, matching his grin.

“You know me so well!” Lando laughed, pulling you into a hug.

He stayed by your side for a while, joking and chatting about the race, but eventually excused himself to the bathroom. “Just stay here! I’ll find you!” he called over his shoulder as he weaved through the throngs of partygoers.

Left with the vibrant atmosphere and pulsating music, you pulled out your phone to scroll aimlessly through social media. But time crept on, and you found yourself growing bored, the joyful sounds around you meshing into one indistinguishable noise.

Suddenly, a voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Y/N.”

You looked up, dread pooling in your stomach as you met Oscar’s gaze. He stood a few feet away, an uneasy smile stretching across his face. “Hey.”

“No, no, no,” your mind raced. Not now. You almost turned to flee, but his hand caught your wrist with a gentle grip, stopping you mid-stride.

“Y/N, please.”

His eyes held a mix of sincerity and something else—maybe regret? Despite your instincts screaming at you to pull away, you found yourself halting, torn between running and wanting to melt into the warmth of his presence.

“Can we talk?” he continued, his voice softer now, nearly lost in the clamor of the room.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m happy for you and your girlfriend,” you retorted, trying to maintain the wall you’d built around your heart.

You expected him to let go of your wrist, to back off and accept your words as the final note in this dissonant symphony. Instead, his grip tightened, marshalling a mix of surprise and frustration.

He guided you through the thrumming crowd, out of the main hall and into a smaller, dimly lit room. The sudden calm clashed violently with the noise outside.

Once you were inside, he released your wrist but blocked the door, leaning against it with an expression that was both earnest and somewhat frustrated.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, crossing your arms defensively.

“I want to explain myself to you, but since you’re so stubborn, I have to lock you in a room for you to listen to me.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “There’s no need to explain. I already know—”

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’ve got the wrong idea,” he interrupted, urgency threading his tone.

“Try me,” you challenged, stepping closer. You hated how close he was, how safe, how intoxicating.

“I’m sure you’re thinking about the club,” he rushed, his eyes searching yours. “That girl, whoever she is, came over and just kissed me because I looked like her boyfriend. She apologized and walked off. That’s all that happened. You can ask Lando or the others."

Your heart rate quickened as you took another step closer. “Why are you even telling me? I had nothing to do with it,” you pressed, your voice a mixture of challenge and curiosity.

He swallowed hard, visibly nervous. “Because it matters. You matter. You have to understand that I didn’t want it, that I wasn’t interested.”

You took a breath, the weight of the moment heavy against your chest. “So, if you weren’t interested, then what do you want?

You tilted your head slightly, trying to read the emotions flickering across his face like shadows in the dark. His jaw worked, as though he was searching for the right words.

“I want you to know…” he started but faltered, glancing away for a split second, as if the courage to continue was caught in his throat.

When he looked back, you noticed a flicker of determination igniting in his gaze. “You know I’ve liked you for a while now, right?”

The admission hung in the air, visceral and raw. Your pulse quickened, the world around you fading into a blur.

“Liked me? As in… more than friends?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding earnestly. “I didn’t know how to say it, and then… and then that happened.” He gestured vaguely towards the club, frustration lacing his words.

“I was so caught off guard, and all I could think about was how I didn’t want you to think something was going on—because nothing is. It was just... a mistake.”

A thousand butterflies erupted in your stomach, and the challenge melting from your voice was replaced by something softer, deeper. “It’s hard for me to believe that when you just let it happen. Didn’t you want to push her away? Didn’t you think about me at all?”

He took a step forward, his expression earnest and intense. “Of course, I thought about you! That's exactly why I’m here, explaining all this to you. I thought maybe you’d get the wrong idea, and I didn’t want that. The last thing I want is for you to feel hurt because of something that wasn’t even my fault,”

You could feel the electricity between you, the shared vulnerability tugging at the edges of your heart. “So, what now? Do we just pretend like tonight didn’t happen?”

“No,” Oscar’s voice was clear and firm, cutting through the tension like a knife. “I don’t want to ignore this. I want to figure out what we are… or what we could be.”

He paused, searching your face for reassurance, hope mingling with uncertainty. “Can we…”

“What if I just got jealous?” you interrupted, tilting your head while letting your walls slowly drop. “What if I’m just overreacting because the thought of you with someone else drives me insane?”

His lips curled upwards, a tentative smile forming as the weight of the moment shifted. “Then that’s good, right? It means you care.”

“I do care,” you confessed, the admission flowing out of you like a soft sigh. “I care more than I should. You’ve been… well, hard to read. But I like you, too, Oscar. I have for a while. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

His relief was palpable, and he stepped a fraction closer, closing the gap between you. “So, what do you say we start fresh? Just you and me. No more mixed signals, no more misunderstandings.”

You held his gaze, the corners of your mouth lifting in a soft smile. “I’d like that. I really would.”

Oscar took a deep breath, as if steadying himself for what came next. “Come here,” you said, raising your arms for a hug. Without hesitation, he stepped into your embrace, his warmth seeping into you like the first rays of sun after a long winter.

He melted into you, resting his chin gently atop your head, and you felt a flutter in your chest, a feeling that said everything would be alright.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. You placed a kiss on his cheek, wishing it to be understood as a promise, a seal to this new beginning.

“You missed,” he joked playfully, breaking the tension and causing both of you to smile.

“Did I?” you teased back, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “I think my aim was just fine.”

Oscar shook his head, laughter escaping his lips. “You must have missed the target completely,” he replied, grinning, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You both stood there, a moment of levity hanging beautifully between you, until Oscar looked up suddenly, as if struck by a realization.

“Hey, it seems like fate gave you another chance,” he said, his voice laced with excitement.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, and you followed his gaze upward. A sprig of mistletoe hung above you, the innocent plant a stark reminder of holiday traditions and the spark of romance it promised. Your heart raced.

“Guess you’re a lucky man, Piastri,” you said, a teasing tone lacing your words. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at him, a playful challenge in your eyes.

He stepped back, his grin widening as he looked at you. “Lucky? How so?”

“Well,” you began, your heart pounding in your chest, “I mean, just look at the circumstances. Here we are, two people who have been dancing around each other forever, and we’re under a mistletoe. You know what that means…”

“What does it mean?” he asked, leaning in, curiosity painting his features as he watched you.

Shifting your gaze back to the mistletoe, you felt bold. “It means we should kiss,” you stated matter-of-factly, suppressing a giggle at how ridiculous the notion felt in the best possible way.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, stepping closer once more, his sincerity igniting a rush of exhilaration within you.

As he leaned in, your heart raced faster, a million thoughts spinning in your head. Would it be awkward? Would he pull back last minute?

But then his hand found the back of your neck, and it felt like the world around you faded away. Time slowed as his lips finally met yours, tentative at first, then growing fervent, a collision of emotions.

You held onto him tightly, drowning in the moment, feeling everything you've kept bottled up finally surge forth—a mixture of relief, tenderness, and the thrill of shared possibility.

You could taste the sweetness of victory in the kiss, savoring the promise of what was to come.

As you shared a tender kiss, the door creaked open just enough for Lando's head to peek in. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he caught sight of the two of you lost in the moment, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him.

Oscar gave a silent thumbs back to Lando, his eyes still closed, fully aware of the carefully orchestrated plan.

This was all part of the scheme they had devised, aptly named "Operation Mistletoe Magic,". . . .

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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

Text

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.

“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”

Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.

“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.

Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.

“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”

It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.

“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”

“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.

Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.

The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.

He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.

He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.

Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.

“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”

“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”

“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”

“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.

Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.

Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.

“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”

“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”

“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"

Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.

"Where'd... ya get all of this?"

"Hmm... here and there."

Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."

Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."

Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.

"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."

"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."

"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."

Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.

----

"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"

Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.

"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."

Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.

----

Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...

"Hair-dye?"

Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.

"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."

Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"

"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.

"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.

"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.

Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.

Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?

"Fuck."

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny adopts jason todd #jason todd #bamf danny phantom #alley drunk! danny au #danny: i'm grieving #jason: wanna bet?#that's right jason's this universe's jazz fenton #this universe's danny fenton died and that's why danny can exist here without causing issues #danny: i have adopted a random child #danny: this child is jazz wtf

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buckevantommy · 8 months ago

Text

Buck wakes slowly, his sore muscles protesting as he stretches out in the early morning. He needs more sleep, but he can hear tommy moving around the room getting ready for his shift.

Buck hums. "G'mornin'." His eyes are still closed. He takes his time edging towards full consciousness but can't help the smile that stretches his mouth wide as Tommy echoes his words back to him, voice low and gentle.

The bed dips at his hip as Tommy settles beside him. Buck sighs contentedly when Tommy's hand cards through his sleep-mussed curls. "How was your shift?"

Buck makes a face, head tilting this way and that, then deciding to push into Tommy's touch like a sleepy cat. "Gerrard's a real piece of work, huh."

"Unfortunately."

Tommy's hand scritches at his scalp and a whine trips out of Buck's throat. He doesn't want Tommy to leave. He hates that their shifts haven't aligned properly in over two weeks, only managing to catch each other for a few hours of sleep together here and there.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Buck makes a noise of displeasure, his softened smile replaced with a pout, he knows. He folds his arms around Tommy's forearm, keeping him close. He can have his arm back later. And his hand. Buck's not finished with them just yet.

Tommy fits his other hand to Buck's cheek, thumb brushing under his eye. "Hey."

Buck finally blinks his eyes open to find Tommy looking at him, gaze soft and fond and mouth quirking to hold back a smile. Buck takes a breath and exhales in a huff, turning his face to press a lingering kiss to Tommy's palm. He wriggles in place under the duvet, wondering what the likelihood is of convincing Tommy to call in sick and spend the day in bed with him.

"Wish I could bring you to work with me."

That coaxes Buck's smile back. He presses another kiss to Tommy's palm. "Bring your boyfriend to work day should totally be a thing."

Tommy chuckles and it makes Buck want to record that sound and play it on a loop. Tommy fills his senses. He can smell the woodsy note of his aftershave and the ocean pine scent of his soap. The combined scent of their bodies mingled with Tommy's detergent in the sheets. He wants to bottle the redolence and take it to work to sniff whenever he's missing his boyfriend or just having a hard day. Because Tommy's presence soothes him.

"I miss you." His thumbs sweep over Tommy's wrist, his pulse steady beneath his touch.

Tommy sighs and leans down to press a kiss to Buck's birthmark. He melts, but still tilts his head up, pout returning a little, demanding a proper kiss. Tommy obliges. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

Buck wants to believe him. He knows Tommy will do everything he can on his end to get their rosters aligned. He also knows Gerrard has it in for both of them, meaning he'll continue doing everything he can to keep them apart - until Buck gives up and quits, probably. The guy really needs a hobby.

Brushing his nose alongside Tommy's, he nods. "Call me when you're on break? Or if it's not too busy?"

"Of course."

With one last kiss, Tommy pulls away and Buck lets his arm slide from his grip, fingers entangling for a moment before he lets Tommy go. He glances over from the doorway as Buck urges him to, "Be safe."

Tommy nods, his smile a private thing. A promise. "Get some rest."

Buck wants to say it. But they haven't said it. Not yet. Doesn't mean he doesn't feel it, or that he thinks Tommy doesn't. They're definitely on their way, even if Tommy's not there just yet. And Buck has a habit of rushing things and he doesn't want to ruin the good thing they have going. So, he doesn't say it. They have time.

As he listens to Tommy making his way through the house and out the front door, his eyes slip shut again. It's still early, and this time of year doesn't see much sun in Tommy's bedroom in the morning so sleep begins pulling him back under quickly. He lets Tommy's reassurance soothe him as he drifts off, cocooned in Tommy, hugging the covers closer and turning his nose into the pillow. They'll figure it out. Together.

#evantommy #bucktommy #fanfiction #.txt #soft boys missing each otherrrrrrr 😩🫶

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bumpkinspice0 · 26 days ago

Text

Take a Bullet

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: “I’d raise hell. I’d tear down whatever took you away…but you’re still here. If the price of that is death, then I’ll pay it every goddamn time.” he lets the words linger. It almost stings when they start to sink in. Did he really think this was all he had to offer? Only his invulnerability, his strength? Of course it was. It’s all anyone ever told him he was worth. All anyone ever wanted from him. He did exactly what thought he should. What he was made for. Logan always thought he was anything except a man. An animal. Another expendable tool. OR Logan never told you he couldn't die, and it scares you how far he's willing to go to keep you safe.

AN: Just the briefest sprinkle of smut. Didn't feel right to go full feral in this one. This is another one that's vaguely tied to my first Logan fic HERE. Totally not required reading, reader just has the same powers and codename cause I'm lazy. She's an earthmover called Dozer. The GIF choice is incredibly unserious but I couldn't not

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, injury, shock, Hurt/comfort, angst (obvi), Logan has some low self worth guys, Confessions of love, Protective!Logan, Smut, Tender sex

AO3 if you prefer to read there

Logan Masterlist

_______

You weren’t new to fighting. Hell, you’d been doing it most of your life. You were an X-man after all— but this was getting ridiculous.

They just kept coming.

You faced down the brotherhood countless times, fought gods and mad scientists— but a few dozen humans with guns was proving to be the most exhausting task you faced with the team. Their ranks were depleting, that much was true, but holy shit was this getting old.

“Dozer!” you hear Scott shout your codename from the left. “Barrier on the east entrance, quicksand for the ones approaching from the west!”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” you, a little less than enthusiastically, respond before plunging your fist into the dirt to change the very earth to your will.

As an earth-mover, you have the wonderful task of being both on defense and offense— well, mostly defense. A lot of defense. You could put up walls and literally stop people in their tracks. If all the firepower was focused outside, the job could be finished inside.

This was a prison break, after all.

“The last of them are out!” Jean’s voice crackles in your ear. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

The last of the MRD facilities is finally falling. It’d been over a year since they’d been defunded and mutant registration was banned. Still, hate always found a way to limp on.

And limp on with a few hundred guns at that.

A stray bullet whizzes past your ear as you move behind a newly erected stone wall. You’d been at this for hours. You're tired. You’re slower and it’s making all of this a hell of a lot more dangerous.

“We need some support over here!” Scott screams into his comm, sliding behind the shelter next to you.

“North gate is clear. I’m coming to you!” You almost sigh in relief at the sound of Ororo’s voice. She’d be tasked with taking care of all other possible exits while you and Scott got the main entrance. With the power of flight and hurricane-level winds at her fingertips… Well, you always thought Storm could take care of herself better than the rest of the team.

The barrage of bullets stops as soon as there’s a crack of thunder, all of the armed men looking up to the sky to see the goddess that brought their demise. In an instant, tyrannical winds start to sweep through their ranks.

“Almost out!” Jean announces in your ear.

“Dozer, give them a clear path!” Scott orders you, jumping out from behind your barrier to help Storm thin the herd of armed men that waited.

You call to the dirt beneath your feet, pulling up several jagged walls of rock to protect the entrance and path to the Blackbird. They’re sloppy and uneven, but they’ll do for cover. You catch just a glimpse of the team through the cracks in the rock. Somehow, Logan’s eyes find yours in the fraction of a second you have.

“Spare anyone you can. Let’s clear the last of these scumbags out before we evacuate.” Scott orders through the comm set. You want to argue back and groan in protest. The mission was complete. The prisoners were out and heading for safety, but you knew he was right— Time to cripple MRD once and for all.

With any final strength you can muster, you send a shockwave through the battlefield, several agents falling in its wake. You quickly enclose whatever parts of their bodies in rock that you can. You just have to immobilize them and there are only a handful left. It’s almost over.

“Remind me never to piss you off, sweetheart.” a familiar gruff voice cheekily says behind you. In a flash, he’s at your side— Logan. If the situation were different, you’d have kissed him. Too bad there’s a task at hand.

“Oh, you should know never to piss me off by now.” you chuckled back, doing your best to multitask in the chaos of it all.

Logan jumps in front of you defensively. He was against you being the outside offense since the beginning, likely just because he couldn’t be there if you needed him. In the handful of months since you’d been together, he’d proven to be a rather protective partner. The more you learned about him, the more you understood why. He’d only had a small handful of things happen to him that were actually good. You did your best to be one of them.

“Two dozen left at most,” Scott shouts in the dwindling chaos.

Looking out at the jagged battlefield, Scott’s estimate seemed to be correct. This could be over in a matter of seconds, and your job would finally be done. You could take the last of them out with the same move you’d just done… that is if you had one more in you still.

You reach your weary hands out and call to the earth one final time. Cripple them. Immobilize them. The ground starts to rumble under your command.

You're so focused on your finishing move that you don’t hear it. Storm warning you all reinforcements are coming up from the south, directly behind you.

“DOZE!” It’s Logan’s voice that pulls you out of your concentration.

You only have a split second to turn your head to see him jumping for you. He pushes you to the ground, your body skidding a few feet away. There’s a deafening ring of new gunfire before it’s immediately silenced by a new jagged wall of rock you rip out of the ground. With a crack of lightning, Storm rushes over to Scott’s side, quickly followed by Rouge and Kurt. You scramble to your feet, ready to join them, but Logan doesn’t move. He just stands there, back to you, completely stone still.

“L-Logan?” You dare to take a small step toward him, afraid of what you’ll see.

He starts to turn around, his movements jerky and stiff. It hurts him to move.

You attempt to hide the horrified gasp that escapes your lips, covering your mouth with your hands at the sight of him. Your eyes immediately meet his and you can almost feel it through his gaze— the excruciating pain.

You weren’t fast enough to stop them.

Bullet holes peppered his entire body. God, even his face— the bullets still sat embedded in his metal skull. The blood pouring out of each new hole in his body was starting to stain his suit— painting over his skin with red. He choked out a pained sound that almost sounded like your name before collapsing to his knees and falling face-first at your feet.

“Logan!” You immediately drop down and pull him into your arms, the battle around you now completely forgotten. You erect three more small walls on your remaining sides. The team could handle the rest. They’d be fine. Logan would be fine. He just needed time to heal, and you’ll give it to him.

You cradle his head in your arms. All hope disappears when you look into his eyes.

There was… nothing.

Those warm, hazel eyes that were always so inviting are now cold and blank. Lifeless. Streams of blood marked his rugged face you adored so much, a bullet in his forehead and two through his left cheek. You’d seen death a handful of times in this rotten job. You’d just never seen it in someone you loved.

You can’t help the wail that escapes when you pull him in. You clutch his lifeless body, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Yes, Logan healed, he barely aged, but could he cure death? He’d never mentioned it. How could a mutation still possibly work after you died? It couldn’t. Logan was dead. He’s dead because of you. Because you weren’t fast enough to stop this.

You only faintly register the battle falling silent around you. The commanding voices of your friends at least tell you that you’ve won. There was no joy in this small victory for you. Not while you clung to the body of your now dead lover.

You jump at the sound of several metallic pings within your space. Has someone breached your quickly constructed walls? You pull back and gasp at an entirely new sight.

Logan was healing, newly formed tissue and bone pushing the bullets out of his body one by one. The final ones to leave are three that marked his face. As soon as they’re gone, there’s light in his eyes again.

His whole body arches in your arms as he heaves in his first gasping breath. His hands grasp onto you, finding anything to ground him. You can’t bring yourself to say anything comforting, shock grabbing hold of your vocal cords.

He’d come back to life in your arms in a matter of seconds.

He takes a few steadying breaths before his eyes finally find yours.

“Are you okay?” His voice is shaken, almost ragged.

You still can’t force yourself to speak. You only look at him, only able to see the blood that streaked across his face in every direction. His blood. He was still covered in his own blood. The hole in his forehead is still mending itself back together and he’s asking if you're okay?

He sits up from your lap, his hands gently resting on your arms.

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up to look him in the eye. Warm and inviting again. Full of life, “Talk to me.”

You’re not sure how long it is before you can force words out of your throat, but eventually, you do.

“You died.”

The silence that follows is haunting. Suddenly, it feels like there’s an ocean between the two of you. You should be the one comforting him through this, yet here he is, cradling your face in his hands, suddenly unable to make eye contact. He’d saved you, he was alive, you were alive, yet you feel like something in you changed. A small piece of you died with him just then. Unequivocally fear that you could never forget. He died. You just watched him die.

“But you didn’t.” He says it with no regret in his voice. No pain.

He knew his actions would likely be fatal. He sacrificed himself to save you. But was it worth it? Was it worth it to watch him die in front of you?

And knowing Logan… he’d do it again without hesitation.

“Hey, guys!” It’s Kurt's voice that pulls you out of your little world, calling for you just beyond the walls. You quickly lower them to see the rest of your fellow X-Men standing in wait. How long have you both been sitting here?

“Jesus, what happened?” Rouge exclaims, clearly referring to Logan still caked in blood. His blood.

He was still fucking covered in his own blood.

You quickly get up, not sparing Logan a single glance, and brush past your teammates as fast as you can. You board the Blackbird alone, hugging yourself in the corner. None of them come after you, and truthfully, you don’t want them to.

Your face collapses into your hands, sobs racking your whole body.

______

The flight home was dead quiet. Even the rescued prisoners said almost nothing except a quick thank you once you dropped them off at a secure mutant-run location just past the border. Logan was smart enough not to sit directly next to you. You’re not sure if you're relieved or mortified by that fact. No, no, you needed space and he was giving it to you.

You still felt his eyes on you the whole time.

He may not have sat right at your hip, but he was in eyeshot of you at all times. Logan’s emotions were always so palpable to you. You can always just feel him. He was worried.

Ororo was the first to approach you with a quiet hello and a gentle hand on your knee.

“What happened out there?” she asked somewhat hesitantly.

You took your sweet time answering, shock still grabbing some part of your mind and urging you to just keep staring at your feet like you had been the entire time.

“I saw him die, ‘Ro.” you eventually answered.

You swear you felt her touch tense a little.

“But Logan can’t die.” Maybe she was holding back a laugh, you thought briefly. You’d been with this man for months, and you had no idea his healing factor was so advanced. You were a child pouting in the corner over seemingly nothing— but it was everything.

“But I didn’t know that, ‘Ro,” you spat back at her. “I didn’t know that.”

And, of course, she pulls you into a hug with a comforting warmth only Ororo Munroe seemed to have. It was stupid of you to think she’d mock you for something like this.

You’re in your bedroom now, sitting on the bed with your knees curled into your chest, stripped out of your suit and freshly showered. Logan was in the bathroom just a few feet away, brushing his teeth. Just fucking brushing his teeth like nothing happened. Like his soul hadn’t left his body and you had to fucking watch.

It wasn’t just that, though. It wasn’t the fact that he was brushing off the fact that he’d died and come back to life.

You loved him.

It’d been a good handful of months, and neither of you had said the big one yet. People always said you and Logan were the same kind of stubborn, probably what drew you to each other in the first place. Both skittish and afraid to ruin something by going too far. But it’s gone past that point for both of you now, hasn’t it? What risks are there left to take? It took seeing the light draining from his eyes to realize you loved this man. God, why can’t anything in your life be easy?

You feel the mattress sink behind you, but still don’t turn to look at him. His body shifts with a heavy sigh.

“I can’t…we can’t go to bed like this.” There’s that gentle pleading in his voice you’d only heard a handful of times. When he woke up from nightmares, mostly.

A heavy hand comes to rest over yours and to your surprise, you don’t pull away. You finally turn to face him… and there he is. As rugged and beautiful as he always is. Not a speck of blood left. No holes in his body. The familiar hair of his bare chest already grown back in the same familiar patterns. The man you loved, as good as new.

With a deep breath, you ask your first question.

“Have you died before?”

He’s taken aback at first but eventually answers.

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“I’ve lost count.”

“Logan—” you bury your face in your hands, not sure if you are willing away tears or an irritated groan.

He reaches out for you, ready to pull you into him before he decides against it.

“I’m sorry,” he simply says.

“Logan, it’s not—”

“I thought you knew,” He quickly cuts you off. “You knew how old I was… what I’d been through. I figured you knew.”

In retrospect, it seems obvious. He’d fought in wars, been ripped apart and put back together, he’s hundreds of years old, for God's sake. But what normal person would ever correlate that to complete and total resurrection? You knew Logan had suffered… but this…

“You’re okay and I’m okay. That’s all that matters.” He reaches out to you again. You stand up from the bed and start to pace before he can touch you.

“It’s not about that! It’s not about being okay now— it’s that I had to watch you. I saw you die. I saw you suffer because of me and I—” You cut yourself off before admitting to your newest and most terrifying secret. “You can’t do that again. I can’t watch you go through that again.”

He just sits there, looking up at you like a scolded puppy.

“I can’t promise that.” He says without an ounce of regret in his voice.

“Then you’re going to have to try.”

You see a flame flicker in his eyes then before he looks away. He sits there, hands squeezing into white knuckled fists on his lap before he releases them with a deep breath.

“You can’t just ask me not to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“You did tonight.”

You turn away again, trying to keep yourself from screaming. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t fucking get it.

You pause, facing the wall adjacent to the bed, and take a few deep breaths before daring to continue.

“I don’t want you to just be a human shield for me.”

“I’m not…I will do anything as long as it means you stay alive.” He’d finally raised his voice, the tendons in his neck tensing from what little restraint he had. “You have no idea… No idea what I’d do.”

And finally, his nonchalant attitude toward this monumental thing started to make sense. What he’d done, sacrificing himself for you— it meant nothing to him. A blip in his long existence. What’s a little more pain to it all? Logan never gave a shit about himself, you already knew that— but the people he cared about…he’d move mountains for them.

“I’d raise hell. I’d tear down whatever took you away… but you’re still here. If the price of that is death, then I’ll pay it every goddamn time.” he lets the words linger. It almost stings when they start to sink in.

Did he really think this was all he had to offer? Only his invulnerability, his strength? Of course it was. It’s all anyone ever told him he was worth. All anyone ever wanted from him. He did exactly what thought he should. What he was made for. Logan always thought he was anything except a man. An animal. Another expendable tool.

You have to show him he’s more than that. More than some blunt object. More than a weapon. He’s a man… the man you love.

You pull at his wrist, urging him to lean into you. He does, his arms circling around your shoulders and yours sneaking up around his back.

“Logan… you still don’t get it…but I guess I’m not getting it right either,” you start gently, running your hands soothingly up his back. “I’m not saying I’m not happy to be alive. That we’re both alive…but…I can’t be entirely grateful because…because I watched the man I love die tonight.”

You feel him tense around you.

“Just for a moment, I thought I lost you. I lost you and it was my fault. You’re not just something that’s expendable. You’re a man. A man that I— And I’d never get to tell you…” You trail off, the thought of it is too unbearable.

He doesn’t let you bury your face in his chest like you wanted, hiding yourself from his searing gaze. Instead, his hands come up to cradle your face, gently craning your neck back to look at him. You were right to want to hide away from him, his eyes are more desperately burning than you’d ever seen.

He holds you there, unmoving, unspeaking. Just boring into your soul with a million words that his mouth could never say. You don’t need him to speak. Those deep pools of hazel and topaz say it all.

In a way, Logan took the first step. He took a few dozen bullets for you, endured unspeakable pain and the first thing he did when he could breathe again was ask if you were okay— what is that if not love?

You don’t recall the last time a kiss felt more natural. Kissing Logan always felt right, but this was different. Whatever words he couldn’t say, he was pouring into this kiss. An all-consuming embrace. A silent promise. His own way of saying he loved you back.

Logan was always a man of action rather than words.

He pulls you into him, holding you flush against his body with a desperate moan and a need to have you impossibly closer. He cradles you like a treasure, tongue coming out to explore your own.

He pulls you down to the bed, hands starting to desperately paw at your whole body. You straddle his lap, cupping his jaw so tightly you fear hurting him. As if you ever could. Your shirt’s discarded in some blinding flurry of motion, his lips immediately trailing all over your chest as soon as you're exposed to him.

Logan was always a lustful and sometimes feral lover. It was always something that was intoxicating about him. This was more than that, though. There was a sense of desperation in his touch— a need. A need to have you closer. To touch you. To taste you. To have you just feel how much he needed you.

How much he loved you back.

He brings you down to the bed, pulling off your sleep shorts before you can even get a breath in. You rise to meet him once he’s discarded his own pants and straddle his lap again. He pulls you back into him as you sink down over him, your cunt stretching to his familiar girth.

“Don’t leave me again,” you plead as your hands reach up to cradle his face, tears pricking at your eyes. “Don’t ever, ever do that again.”

“Okay,” He says passively, dropping his mouth down to nip at your neck. “F-for you I’ll… Okay…Okay…”

It’s not a promise, not really. But it’s a start.

You both find a rhythm here, pushing and pulling into each other in ways that were already familiar and somehow completely new at the same time. It’ll never be the same after tonight. Whatever you and Logan are, it’s something entirely new. Equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

Love always is.

It’s hours, it’s days, it’s… You don’t really fucking care. An eternity with Logan inside you would still not be enough, but eventually, you both find solace in your pillows, your bodies and hearts weary from… everything.

You both lay there, finally still and the initial emotions quelled. There was still so much more to talk about, so much more to say… but not tonight. Not right now.

“Do you ever remember anything… when it happens?” you find yourself asking, your fingers lazily brushing through his facial hair.

He says nothing at first, hand reaching up to yours and bringing it down for a kiss.

“No. Never. But… waking up to you wasn’t half bad.”

You flinch again at the memory of those empty eyes.

“I don’t want to see that happen to you again.”

“I can’t promise that, darlin’.” He reiterates from earlier.

“I’m not asking for a promise… I’m just asking you to try.”

He pulls you into him, resting his chin on top of your head and his hand gently stroking up and down your arm. It’ll take time, but you’ll show him. You’ll show Logan his life is worth something.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he says, placing a kiss on your head, “l’ll try. For you, I’ll try.”

#logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan smut #Wolverine #logan howlett fic #wolverine x f!reader #wolverine fanfiction

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charliehoennam · 9 months ago

Text

primetime.

a/n: i hate rusty but he brings out my inner hoe byeeeee

pairing: rusty isabitch sabich x f!reader

summary: rusty is overwhelmed by the trial and sought you out to help him forget about his worries.

warning: 18+ ONLY. NSFW. smut, infidelity, c&b torture, suffocation, oral sex, p in v, facesitting, dom-ish reader??

Rusty’s pale blue gaze sweeps over your half-naked body as you come out of the shower, dressed in nothing but a silk black robe as he unpacks the Chinese take-out from the restaurant’s brown paper bag.

You thank him for receiving the takeout when the desk clerk brought it up to the apartment, smiling at the sight of his messy hair from the shower he took with you.

He smirks back at you and compliments the robe. Leaving half of the containers and sauces in the bag, he turns and pulls you by the hips.

Rusty relishes in the silky touch of your robe, reminded of the silky touch of your most intimate areas. You allow him to kiss you with his hands under the fabric, groping at your ass before gently pushing him back with the reminder that you’re hungry.

Sitting on your lavish couch, you mostly talk about the case he’s been stuck in ever since Carolyn’s death. Between bites and swigs from the brown beer bottle perched on the floor beside you, he confesses things and emotions to you that he feels he can’t confess to anyone.

His lingering love for Carolyn. The troubles in his marriage. The fear of hatred from his children. How jealous he secretly feels to know his wife kissed someone else.

Despite not having romantic feelings towards Rusty, you do consider him a friend. Some friends play golf, shoot hoops or pool. You and Rusty fuck.

It feels natural for you both. You met Rusty a bit after he began his affair with Carolyn through a dating app. The pair of you were looking for a good talk and fuck and although there were no strings attached on your behalf, Rusty decided to conceal his marriage by hiding hi wedding band.

When you found out the truth, you were livid at Rusty. Not for being married to someone that’s not you – you didn’t love him. You’re happily married to a man who treats you like a queen and is modern enough to have accept your open marriage.

What bothered you is that he didn’t tell you about it. Having sex with other people is only fine when all parties agree to it. He tried to argue that it was the same as your marriage, but you were quick to stomp out his bullshit.

That was when you told Rusty you had to end the relationship with him.

Looking out the panoramic windows of your high-rise apartment, he watches the city from above as you take the dirty empty dishes to the kitchen.

“Isn’t your husband coming home?”

“No. He’s in New York for the week.”

“Does he know you’re seeing me again?”

You pause and glance at him.

“Whatever happened to don’t ask, don’t tell?”

Rusty never liked talking about your husband. Deep down, he felt a little sting of jealousy in his chest. He was never really fond of sharing his toys, but he would never tell you that.

“Just curious as to how you guys make it work?”

“He knows, yes” you reply sitting back on the couch. “And he doesn’t like you.”

“How come he lets you still me?”

“Because choosing who I fuck is decided by me, not him.”

He smirks at your boldness, surprised as he tries to paint a mental image of you talking to your husband about the other guy you fuck.

“I guess that’s only fair” he nods.

“He just doesn’t want me to get into trouble. Your last mistress did end up dead, after all.”

Rusty’s head falls forward as he watches himself wring his hands. You didn’t think before sayin it and his reaction makes you realize how harsh it really sounds.

There’s a tug at your heartstrings that unbridles a guilt you didn’t even know you had inside.

“I’m sorry, Rusty. That came out a lot worse than-“

“It’s alright.”

You can’t tell it’s not. He’s not. Being reminded of Carolyn’s death and the way she was murdered is like a wet rag over a flame.

“I should get going,” Rusty moves to stand feeling like a guest who’s overstayed their welcome.

“No. Stay.”

Your plea comes with a hand on his arm. He looks at your gentle touch and watches it moves to his thigh, slowly caressing the thick muscle there.

“Stay with me, hm?” you whisper as his eyes meet yours.

Cautiously closing the space between you both, you place a tender kiss to his cheek. He closes his eyes, letting your affection melt his worries away. He knows he shouldn’t. It should feel wrong. But his head tilts to the side and meet your butterfly kisses with his lips.

Your legs sweep over his and you move to straddle his lap, quick to unzip his hoodie that shields his shirtless body. His large hands squeeze your thighs and ass here and there as they explore your body.

Your open palms frolic over his furry chest, indulging in the thick layer of dark hair that sends butterflies fluttering around his stomach. Already excited for what’s to come, heat bubbles in his core.

Kneading your ass, his thick fingers slip to your waist to untie the knot of the robe. You let it fall open, too mesmerized by his unyielding kisses on your neck as the silky fabric slides down your shoulders.

Rusty likes to think of your body as a magical map. He knows all the secrets to a world only he knows, filled with hidden paths to the extraordinary highs not even you knew how to unlock.

He knows how to make you come undone; he had made his personal mission to do so and you reciprocated with lust of the same intensity.

Your exposed sex presses against his hardened member. You can feel it as it twitches in his gray sweatpants when his hands capture your breast, squeezing at the soft flesh.

“Take this off.”

His eagerness doesn’t allow him to wait for you to slip your arms from the sleeves, so his hasty hands do the work for you. It forces him to pull away from your neck and cease his bruising mauling. He tosses the t-shirt to the ground; your bra follows and lands on top of it.

Heat pools in your depths like fire under a cauldron as fleeting kisses trail down your sternum and stop in the valley between your breast.

Gravely moans hum out from the back of his throat as he deeply inhales the delightful aroma left on your skin by your favorite body wash.

His hungry lips take their turns altering from one nipple to the other, latching and suckling at the hardening buttons. His restless tongue circles around each of them as he squeezes your breasts together as if he could swallow them both.

Your back arches into his touch which sends waves of pleasure straight to your core, especially when his teeth and growing 5 o’clock shadow scrap along your tender tits.

Skin burning feverishly, you moan his name over and over, telling him how good he’s making you feel. Your praises never fail to ignite something darker in him.

“Lemme taste you again” he breathes against your lips.

Arousal moistens your sex at his request, damp with your lust for him. You nod excitedly just thinking about how well he ate you out just a couple hours ago.

He lays down on the couch, stretching his tall frame along its length. With his legs being too long, he has to bend his knees to rest his soles on the cushion while you watch him adjust, waiting for the right moment to straddle his head.

Fully naked, he reaches for your thighs to pull you closer. You carefully settle your knees on either side of his head and remove the back cushion of his sofa to make room for your position.

Tucking your bare feet under his arms, he impatiently snakes his arms around your frame and grope at your breasts. Your hips lower and you finally take your seat on his face.

His tongue hungrily laps your drenched plushy lips, licking up every drop of your arousal. One of your hands combs through his dark hair while the other rests on the sofa’s arm, keeping you balanced.

Your hips slowly rock back and forth, hovering over his mouth just enough to let his tongue sandwich itself between your juicy lips.

Hands gliding down your front, his fingers eagerly creep down past your hips to reach your cunt. They gently pull at your sweet lips, parting them in such a way that makes fire rise to your cheeks at the extreme exposure.

Finding your sensitive bundle of nerves, he suckles at it and alters to and from the circling of his tongue. He drives you quickly closer and closer towards that familiar climax through faint rippling waves.

As the pleasure builds, his finger rubs at your throbbing nub over and over while his tongue delves deeper, hungrily lapping at the sweet juices trickling from your walls. Grinding down against his face, his finger is replaced by his nose, nudging your pulsing bundle of nerves with every thrust.

Rusty smiles to himself watching your breasts bounce. He revels in his ability of making you contort and whine as he pushes you over that mind-numbing apex that has your body trembling with pleasure.

“Fuck!” you breath heavily rolling your hips along his face. “You like that huh? You like it when I sit on your face?”

He nods with dark devilish eyes, holding your hips aggressively to force them down.

“Don’t tap out quick on me, Rusty.”

You smirk almost evilly as you smother his nose and mouth with your pussy, forcing his wiggling tongue to fuck your soaking hole. Watching the veins on his temples throb, you chuckle as the weight suffocates him.

“Atta boy. Taking it like a champ for me. Can’t get enough of this pussy, can ya? Little more. Little more! You can take it!”

You giggle as his eyes begin to glaze with darkness and his hand finally taps your tummy, a silent request to breathe.

“Such a good boy for me, baby” you praise him as he pants breathlessly, reaching his hand down to stroke his stiff aching cock.

“No,” you order firmly with a contradicting smile. “You don’t get to control that pleasure. That’s my job.”

“Y-yes” he pants.

Rusty’s eyes never leave the sight of your pussy, even when you stand and remove yourself from your human seat.

With a nod of your head, you command him to scoot further down as you hand him one of the decorative pillows to place under his head. Your leg lifts again and you straddle him once more, only this time, you grant yourself the view of his dick as his mouth begins its work again.

Releasing his heavily hard and thick member, you push his sweat pants down and slide them off his legs with his help. The second your hand wraps around it, his hands squeeze your ass cheeks.

You press his leaking tip to your lips, pushing your spit onto his head. Judging from the precum, he doesn’t need much, but you like it when things get messy.

Rusty has to contain himself and refrain from combusting when he feels your mouth on his cock. The work you do with your mouth is incomparable and the reason he always tries to be ‘good’ for you – to get himself a blowjob that he’ll touch himself over the following months.

Although you love your husband very much and are more than content with his package, it’s undeniable that Rusty’s is far bigger in length and in girth.

You moan as you take him in deep with your finger and thumb at the base, his tip hitting the back of your throat with ease. As your head bobs up and down, your other hand moves lower to cup his balls and gingerly squeeze them.

One at a time, you’re careful to not apply too much pressure too soon. You work him up to that slowly until you’re able to tourniquet them with your fingers. You squeeze them, making them plump for punishment.

“Ready to be a good boy again, baby?”

He hums but you feel his head nod between your leg, drenched in the sticky slimy mess he’s made of your cunt.

“You’re not gonna cum, are you?” you smirk gently grazing your open palm over the delicate swollen sack.

He shakes his head eagerly.

You deliver the first slap. Not too hard; just enough to allow to prepare stronger ones. He groans as his body trembles underneath yours.

“Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“F-feels so fucking good!” he whimpers squeezing your ass as he braces for more blows.

The delicious pain overwhelms him enough to lose track of your pleasure, so you order him to get back to work and threaten to stop. You laugh at how quick he is to bury his face back into your sopping pussy.

After a few more and harder blows to his balls, separated by the bobbing of your head and stroking of his dick, he pushes you firmly with a firm slap to your ass.

“Gimme this fucking pussy,” he begs.

He doesn’t bother to wipe your juices off his face as you both stand. You can taste yourself when his lips desperately crash on you. Dipping his larger frame, he taps at your thighs as an unspoken invitation to jump.

His strong arms are quick to effortlessly lift you up until your legs are able to hug his hips. He guides you backwards and pins you to the panoramic wall of sturdy glass.

Using your hand, you align his cock to your entrance and him penetrate you with ease. You moan as you relish in the fullness and stretch of him inside you. He smirks to himself watching your mouth hang open in a daze.

“Let’s give my neighbors a show, baby.”

#Rusty Sabich #rusty sabich x you #rusty sabich x y/n #rusty sabich x reader #presumed innocent #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fic #jake gyllenhaal smut

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idkanymark · 4 months ago

Text

[ I hate the weather]

jeno x f!reader | jaemin x f!reader | love triangle

INTRO: You finally had Jeno, the boy you always wanted. But as time passed, your heart couldn’t ignore the pull you felt for Jaemin. The more you tried to change for Jeno, the more you realized the truth. It was Jaemin who had always held a piece of your heart.

Lowkey inspired by: Moth to flame by The Weeknd and Swedish House and Favourite crime by Olivia Rodrigo

----

“You should be happy” you tell yourself for the hundredth time, staring at the photo of you and Jeno on your phone. His arm draped protectively over your shoulders, his smile wide and carefree. You finally got what you always thought you wanted—a boyfriend who loved you, treated you well, and made you feel safe.

But then why does your heart ache every time Jaemin’s name pops into your mind?

It all started three months ago

Back then, it felt innocent. You had confessed your crush on Jeno to Jaemin, your best friend since childhood.

“You want me to do what?” Jaemin had asked, his voice incredulous.

“Help me” you pleaded. “Drop hints, invite him to hangouts—something.”

Jaemin frowned, his arms crossed as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t know, Y/N. This sounds… weird.”

“It’s not weird” you countered. “Please, Jaemin. I just… I really like him.”

Jaemin had sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. I’ll do it. But only because I want to see you happy.”

And he did try. He invited Jeno to your usual Friday movie nights, though the result wasn’t exactly smooth. You and Jaemin argued over movies, as always, and Jeno sat awkwardly in the middle, trying not to take sides.

Then there was the Dreamies’ hangout, where instead of impressing Jeno, you managed to catch Haechan’s relentless teasing instead. Still, you learned something important that night: Jeno liked blonde hair, and he seemed drawn to girls like Yoo Jimin.

That revelation sparked a change.

The next day, while hanging out at Jaemin’s place, you blurted out a question that had been gnawing at you.

“Should I dye my hair blonde?”

Jaemin looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow. “Why? You hate blonde hair. Remember that movie we watched and you said ruined it for you?”

“Jeno likes blonde hair” you replied matter-of-factly.

Jaemin’s face darkened slightly, but he didn’t say much. “If you want to, go ahead. Just… make sure you’re doing it for you.”

A few days later, the transformation was complete. You stepped out of the bathroom at home with newly dyed blonde hair, nervously smoothing it down as you opened the door to Jaemin’s knocks.

“Y/N?”

When he saw you, he froze. His gaze lingered longer than usual, taking in your hair.

“What do you think?” you asked, doing a small twirl.

“You look good” he said finally, though his tone carried an edge you couldn’t place.

But as time went on, things started to change.

The more you learned about Jeno’s ideal type, the more you started changing to fit them. The more you tried to be the girl he would notice, the further you drifted from the version of yourself that Jaemin had always known.

You started wearing clothes that you knew Jeno would like—more fashionable, more polished. You dyed your hair blonde and even started wearing red lipstick too.

Jaemin noticed the changes. He’d watched you, his best friend, slowly morph into someone else—the someone Jeno would want, but the someone you weren’t. And it hurt.

One afternoon, you were getting ready to go out to another one of Jeno’s hangouts. You stood in front of Jaemin’s mirror, touching up your red lipstick while he watched you in silence. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

You glanced at him in the mirror, not fully focusing on his words. “Sure.”

“What’s this?” Jaemin asked, gesturing to the transformation with a sweeping motion.

“What’s what?” You were confused, still busy perfecting your lipstick.

“This” Jaemin repeated, his voice a little louder now. “The hair, the clothes, the parties—you’re not the same person anymore. You hate bold lipstick colors!”

You shrugged, applying the final coat of lipstick. “Oh, but Jeno likes it.”

The words hung in the air, and Jaemin visibly flinched. His expression shifted, his eyes clouded with hurt. “Why does it feel like I’m losing you?” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t know what to say. You were too busy watching Jeno, the boy you wanted.

That night, when Jeno finally noticed you the way you’d always hoped he would, Jaemin stood on the sidelines. He watched quietly, his heart sinking deeper as you slipped further away from him.

As the days passed, your relationship with Jeno, on the surface, seemed perfect. You went out on dates, spent time together in lavish places, and everyone around you admired how "ideal" the two of you were. But with each passing moment, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling deep in your chest, the one that whispered something’s not right.

Jeno, with his effortless charm and undeniable affection, was everything you thought you wanted, yet when you were with him, your mind would drift. You would catch yourself thinking about Jaemin—the way his presence brought a sense of calm, the way he always seemed to understand you without saying a word.

As the Friday nights turned into elegant dinners and crowded parties that weren’t quite your style, the memories of those simple movie nights with Jaemin, full of laughter and familiarity, started to feel like a lifetime ago. You hadn’t realized how much you missed them until it was too late. Jeno's world was exciting, but it was a world where you couldn’t always be yourself.

And so, you felt trapped. You loved Jeno, or at least you thought you did. But why did it feel like you were losing a piece of yourself every time you changed for him?

You tried to push it away—told yourself you should be happy. You had Jeno. He was everything you ever thought you wanted. But your heart wasn’t on the same page. Why did you still want to talk to Jaemin when you were sad, when you felt alone? Why, when you looked at your bedside table, did that photo of the two of you get your attention even when your boyfriend was right next to you? Why did you wish it was him laying beside you instead of Jeno?

It didn’t make sense. You had the attention you’d always craved, the validation, the relationship you’d fought for, but somehow... it felt hollow. You wanted to scream, to pull at the pieces of yourself that felt lost between the two of them.

You should’ve been happy. Why weren’t you?

----

Then the inevitable happened. Jeno and you had your first fight.

It wasn’t anything major, just a disagreement that spiraled out of control. You fought about something silly, but when his voice rose and he grew frustrated, something inside of you broke. For the first time, you saw the same tension you had witnessed at home. The yelling, the frustration, the way your parents had always argued when things went wrong.

It made you feel suffocated. Just like that day years ago. The day you ran away from home.

*FLASHBACK*

It was one of those nights where the air felt heavy, suffocating. The usual quiet of the house was shattered by the sound of raised voices—your parents. You had heard them argue before, but tonight felt different, louder, more desperate.

“I’m sick of this!” your mother shouted, the strain of her voice cutting through the walls. “I’m sick of you treating me like this, of everything we’ve become!”

Your father’s voice came back, sharp and defensive. “What do you want me to do? I’m trying my best! Do you think I’m not tired of this too?”

You sat on your bed, your heart racing, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping that if you just stayed quiet, it would stop. You wished for peace, for silence, but it didn’t come. The fighting only escalated, becoming uglier with each word.

“I don’t want to do this anymore!” your mother’s voice cracked with frustration. “I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not! You don’t care about me or this family anymore!”

“I care!” Your father’s voice boomed through the house. “I’ve been holding this family together, working, providing. And you just sit there and criticize me every chance you get!”

And then, you heard it. The word you dreaded most.

“I want a divorce!” Your mother screamed, the final blow.

“Y/N will stay with me!” Your father snapped back, trying to claim ownership over something you felt you had no say in.

“No! She’ll stay with me!” your mother insisted, her voice full of hurt and anger.

The sound of your name, spoken like a pawn in their war, broke you. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You didn’t care about the rain, the cold—everything just felt wrong. You needed to get away, to escape the suffocating air inside the house. You put on your shoes without thinking, ran past the door, and out into the storm.

The rain hit you hard as you ran through the streets, your legs aching from the effort, but you didn’t care. You had to leave. The cold felt almost comforting, numbing the pain that twisted inside of you.

It wasn’t long before Jaemin found you. You didn’t know how, or when, but you felt a soft tap on your shoulder and looked up to see him standing there, umbrella in hand, his concerned eyes searching yours.

“Y/N?” Jaemin’s voice was calm, but there was an undeniable worry in it. “What are you doing out here in the rain? You’ll catch a cold.”

You didn’t respond, your mind too clouded by the chaos you’d just run from. Jaemin didn’t push. Instead, he opened his umbrella wider and stepped closer to you, giving you his jacket without a word.

He sat down next to you, his presence quiet but grounding. There was no rush to fix things, no pressure to explain. He just let you be.

For a long time, neither of you said anything. The rain continued to fall around you, the only sound in the world. Jaemin broke the silence, his voice soft but knowing.

“It’s raining a lot lately” He wasn’t really talking about the rain. He was talking about everything—your parents, the fight, the storm inside your head and the way he found you crying in the middle of the street.

You took a deep breath, finally breaking your silence. “I hate the weather” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain.

Jaemin’s eyes softened. “I hate the weather too” he replied, his words holding more meaning than just a shared distaste for the rain. It was the quiet understanding between the two of you, the unspoken comfort.

Jaemin didn’t leave your side, not until you felt like you could breathe again.

When you were ready, he helped you back to your feet and led you back to your parents’ house.

*END OF FLASHBACK*

The rain was pouring down as you stepped outside, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t care about the weather, about the cold, or about getting wet. All you could feel was the weight on your chest, the pressure to be something you weren’t, to be the perfect version of yourself for Jeno.

You ran, just like you had all those years ago. Running from the noise, from the suffocation, from the fight that reminded you of everything that had been broken in your life.

You didn’t even notice where your feet were taking you. You just wanted to escape.

Meanwhile, Jeno was desperate. He’d searched everywhere but couldn’t find you. His last resort was calling the one person who always seemed to know where you’d be—Jaemin.

“Jaemin” Jeno’s voice cracked over the phone, “Y/N’s gone. We had a fight, and she ran off. Do you know where she might be?”

Jaemin’s heart sank. He didn’t need to think twice. “I’ll find her” he said firmly, hanging up and grabbing his car keys.

He knew exactly where you were.

----

When you found yourself standing on that familiar side street, drenched and shivering, you sank to the ground. The world felt too heavy, and you didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. You just wanted to disappear, to forget about everything—Jeno, the changes you’d made, the fight.

But then, like before, someone appeared.

Jaemin.

He had found you again, it was like stepping into a memory.

“Y/N” Jaemin said softly, rushing to your side and holding an umbrella over your head, just like he had years ago. “What are you doing out here in the rain? You’re not even wearing a jacket. You’ll catch a cold.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You just sat there, too exhausted to move. Jaemin slipped his jacket off and draped it over you, sitting down beside you in silence.

And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel alone. You didn’t feel suffocated.

“Some things never change, huh?” Jaemin said, breaking the silence softly.

You looked at him, your heart aching as the rain soaked you both. “I hate the weather” you said, your voice barely audible.

Jaemin’s eyes softened as he replied, “I hate the weather too.”

For a while, you just sat there, both of you seeking comfort in the quiet, in the simple act of being there for each other.

Jaemin brought you back to your apartment, helping you inside with quiet care. When the door opened, Jeno was waiting. His eyes widened at the sight of you—soaked and shivering, wrapped in Jaemin’s jacket.

“Y/N!” he rushed over, his hands cupping your face. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You didn’t respond. You pulled away gently, muttering, “I need a shower” before disappearing into the bathroom.

Jeno watched you leave, his expression a mix of guilt and confusion. When he turned back, he found Jaemin standing by the door.

“I don’t know what happened” Jeno confessed, his voice full of worry. “I didn’t mean to upset her. I just…”

“I think you should give her some space” Jaemin said quietly. His tone wasn’t accusatory, just… resigned.

Jeno nodded, though his face tightened. “Thanks for bringing her back.”

Jaemin didn’t reply. He just nodded, his gaze lingering on the closed bathroom door for a moment before he left.

While under the hot spray of the shower, you let the tears fall freely. You had everything you thought you wanted—Jeno, the perfect boyfriend, the dream relationship.

But as you stood there, your heart ached. Not for the boy waiting for you in the other room.

For the one who had found you in the rain.

For the one who had always found you.

----

The weeks after weren’t easy. A crack opened in your relationship with Jeno, and you began to pull away, unsure of what to say or how to explain the distance that was growing between you both. Jeno noticed, of course, but every time he asked, you brushed him off with excuses. The truth was, you weren’t sure how to explain the whirlwind of emotions inside you, or how to face the growing realization that your heart was no longer with him.

One cold night, Jaemin found you in front of his house, looking utterly broken.

“Y/N?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern. Without waiting for you to say a word, he pulled you into his arms. At first, you couldn’t even speak. The flood of emotions you had been keeping inside for weeks came pouring out. You started to cry in his embrace, shaking with the weight of it all.

Jaemin held you tighter, never letting go, whispering comforting words as you cried. He didn’t ask questions, just let you let it all out, feeling the raw emotion that you had carried for so long. When your sobs slowed down, he pulled back slightly, still holding you gently.

“Here” he said, handing you a steaming mug of hot chocolate—the one thing that always made you feel a little better when life felt too heavy. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you.

You took a sip, trying to steady your breathing, but it didn’t make the confusion inside you go away. Jaemin sat beside you, watching you silently. After a while, he asked quietly, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You hesitated, unsure if you had the strength to put it into words. But somehow, in his presence, it felt like you could say anything.

“I... I feel so lost” you whispered, the tears threatening to return. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should be happy, but it’s like something inside me is telling me I’m not. I’m with Jeno, but... It doesn’t feel right, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

Jaemin didn’t say anything for a moment. His hand reached out, and he gently stroked your hair, his touch soft and comforting. “It’s okay” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You’re going to be okay. Let it out. I’m here.”

The warmth of his words settled over you, but it was the closeness, the way he held you, that made everything else fade away. In that moment, everything felt like it finally made sense. You weren’t alone in this. You hadn’t been alone for a long time, but you had been too scared to admit it.

And in that silence, surrounded by his presence, the truth spilled from your lips.

“I— I’ve been trying so hard to make things work with Jeno, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I know it’s wrong, but it’s like... my heart is telling me that you’re the one I’ve always wanted. Not him. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Jaemin’s breath caught at your words, his gaze locking onto yours. He seemed surprised, but there was a sadness in his eyes, a softness that made your heart ache even more.

“Y/N” he began, his voice gentle but filled with emotion. “I’ve always loved you. You were just too obvious about it. Why do you think I’m still single, even when you know there are so many girls after me? I’ve always wanted you.”

The confession hung in the air, filling the space between you with a weight you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to lean in, to close the distance and let everything out, but something held you back. The reality of your relationship with Jeno, the guilt, the fear of what this would mean, kept you frozen.

Jaemin leaned in slightly, his lips on your forehead“i want to kiss but I can’t... you’re still with him.”

Your heart clenched at the words. You knew he was right, but it didn’t make the truth any easier to accept.

“I know” you whispered, your voice shaky. “But I’m going to break up with him soon. I can’t keep lying to myself. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help how I feel.”

Jaemin’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the tension was almost unbearable. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes held everything—everything you had both been too scared to admit until now.

The lingering words between you both pulled you closer, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could finally breathe.

But Jaemin, with all his care for you, took a step back, his expression full of understanding. "Whenever you're ready, Y/N," he said quietly, "I'll be here. But you need to figure this out... for yourself."

And you realized in that moment, the hardest part wasn't admitting how you felt—it was knowing what you had to do next.

----

The day after your conversation with Jaemin, you invited Jeno over. It was time to be honest. Time to confront everything that had built up between you two, to explain how you had changed, how you had tried to mold yourself into the version of you that you thought he wanted.

Jeno sat across from you, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and hurt as he waited for you to speak. You took a deep breath before you started.

“Jeno, I... I’ve been pretending. I changed for you, thinking that this was what I had to do to get your attention,” you said, your voice trembling a little. “The hair, the clothes, the way I acted. It wasn’t me. It was just... a version of me that I thought you’d like.”

Jeno’s gaze softened, but there was disbelief in his eyes. “So I always loved a version of you that you created?” he asked quietly, his voice holding a tinge of sadness.

You nodded, unable to look him in the eye. “I thought that’s what I had to do to make things work with you.”

There was a long silence between you two as he processed your words. His fingers twitched slightly, as if he wanted to reach out to you but didn’t know how.

“But I don’t think that’s entirely true” Jeno said after a moment, his voice gentle yet firm. “I think there were a lot of times when you were just... you. The real you.”

You looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “That could be true” you whispered, your heart pounding. "But I didn’t know how to balance it. I thought I had to change to fit into this perfect image of what I thought you wanted."

Jeno’s expression grew more serious, his brow furrowing slightly. “But I won’t lie. I’m hurt, Y/N. I’m hurt that you felt like you had to change to get me to notice you.” His voice trembled with a mix of frustration and sadness. “I thought we were already fine just being ourselves around each other. I never needed that perfect version of you. I just needed you.”

The confession hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t realized how deeply your attempts to change had affected him, how much he had cared for the person you were beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, your heart aching for him. “I never meant to hurt you. I just... I didn’t know what to do. I was confused.”

Jeno sighed, looking down for a moment, before meeting your eyes again. “I understand that you were confused, but it doesn’t make it any easier. It’s hard, Y/N. I thought we had something real, but now I’m wondering if I was just falling in love with a version of you that wasn’t even... you.”

His words stung, but there was an honesty to them that you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to reach out to him, to apologize again, but the words didn’t come.

“I think we both need to take a step back and figure things out” Jeno said softly, standing up from the couch. “I need time to process all of this... and so do you.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the situation press down on you. “Yeah... I think that’s the best thing to do.”

Jeno hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you as if he wanted to say something else, but he just shook his head and walked toward the door. “Take care of yourself, Y/N” he said quietly before stepping outside, leaving you alone with the mess of emotions swirling inside.

You couldn’t help but feel like you had lost something important, but at the same time, you knew that it was the right thing to do.

-----

Seven months had passed since that moment, and in those months, you had done a lot of healing. After taking some time to yourself, focusing on finding out who you were without anyone else’s expectations weighing you down, you found the courage to follow your heart. And it led you to Jaemin.

You and Jaemin had been inseparable ever since you began dating, and eventually, it just made sense for you to live together. It was as if you'd been living with each other in spirit long before the move—always crashing at one another’s places, always finding comfort in each other’s presence.

Jaemin had been the one to convince you to adopt three cats—Luna, Lucy, and Luke—and you were honestly grateful. The apartment had become your little haven, complete with furry companions who brought so much life and joy into your days. The sound of purring had become one of your favorite melodies.

As you were preparing dinner one evening, you felt the familiar warmth of arms wrapping around you from behind. You couldn’t help but smile, already knowing who it was.

“Smells good.Do you need help?” Jaemin’s voice was soft, his breath warm against your ear.

You placed a hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly as you continued to chop the vegetables. “It’ll taste even better once it’s done” you said, a playful tone lacing your words. "You’ve been working hard today, haven’t you?"

Jaemin leaned in closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Not nearly as hard as you” he replied, his voice filled with admiration. "But I’m always happy to help, especially if it means being with you."

You let out a soft laugh, turning your head slightly to meet his gaze. "I’m glad you’re here” you whispered, feeling a warmth spread across your chest. "I wouldn’t want anyone else with me."

Jaemin’s smile softened, and he kissed your cheek gently. He looked at you with so much affection, as if the years you had spent together and all the feelings he'd kept inside were finally making sense. "I always knew you were the one” he murmured, his voice full of certainty. "I just didn’t know how long it would take for you to realize it, too."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. "I feel the same way” you said softly. "It took time, but I know now."

Jaemin pulled you into a tight hug, his warmth surrounding you as he whispered, "We’ve made it through everything, Y/N. And now, it’s just us, always."

It had taken time to get here, but now, everything felt right. The past was behind you, and the future, with Jaemin by your side, seemed full of endless possibilities. The love you shared was a quiet kind of happiness, built on trust, understanding, and shared moments that made everything feel so effortless.

No more doubts, no more pretending. Just you, Jaemin, and your three cats in your little world, exactly where you were meant to be.

"I wouldn't change this for anything in the world” you whispered, your hand finding his once again, squeezing it tightly.

Jaemin’s voice was steady and full of affection as he replied, "Neither would I, Y/N. Neither would I."

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Hi I love your poly marauders fics so much!! Is it possible for you to write one where the reader has to go to the doctors but she absolutely hates the doctor and needles. Totally fine if not 💗

Thanks lovely!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus has strong-armed you into looking at your ankle again. Almost literally strong-armed you, with James as his lackey, your curly headed boyfriend keeping an arm wrapped around your shoulders that’s as affectionate as it is binding. Remus gnaws on his lip as he prods at your swollen leg, making quiet sounds of discontent at whatever he feels.

He looks up at you, brows knit together. “The swelling hasn’t gone down at all, dove.”

“It will soon,” you say faithfully. “It’s only been a couple of days.”

“You should at least be able to walk on it by now.”

“I can,” you reply. “It doesn’t feel great, but I can walk on it.”

He gives you a deadpan look, and you can feel James’ silent chuckling against your side. “That’s not what I mean,” Remus says. “I’m sorry love, but you need to get this checked out.”

You open your mouth, but Remus reads the argument in your face before it passes your lips.

“By a professional,” he clarifies.

You huff, crossing your arms in front of you. “What’re they gonna tell me that I don’t already know? Rest, elevate, etcetera, etcetera.” You roll your eyes. James begins to sweep his thumb back and forth on your shoulder, trying to pacify you. “There’s no point in going into some cold office for that.”

“Unless it’s more serious than we think,” Remus counters. His eyes are worried, but his mouth is set in a firm line. “If you’d only twisted it, it wouldn't have swelled up this badly. And even if it isn’t that bad,” he goes on, bulldozing over the protest that comes to your tongue, “at least they’ll be able to give you a real compress. These bandages get too loose, which probably isn’t helping with the healing.”

“It’ll heal if I give it time,” you say stubbornly, pulling your leg from his grip and starting to rewrap it yourself. “Stop worrying so much.”

“Dove.” It’s his no-nonsense voice. “Our deal was that if it wasn’t getting better after three days, you’d go get it looked at.” He ducks to make you meet his eyes, softening when he finds them. “It’s time, sweetheart.”

You’ve just finished rebandaging your ankle and are deliberating between arguing more or just sitting in silent opposition when you hear the rattle of Sirius’ keys. Remus rolls his eyes (out of habit at this point, you think) when he kicks in the door.

“You’d think I was eighty, hungry at five thirty in the after…whoa.” Sirius trails off as he senses the sober mood in your home, and his eyebrows pinch when his gaze lands on you. “What’s got you so riled up, lovebug?”

James hugs you tighter to his side, impervious to your sulking as he rubs your upper arm roughly. “She’s gotta go to the doctor,” he says.

“Aw.” Sirius pouts, coming the rest of the way towards you to drop a kiss on your head. “Ankle’s not doing so well?”

“If anything, it’s getting worse,” Remus sighs.

“Is not,” you snipe back.

“It’s not going to be as bad as you think, baby.” Sirius squats in front of you, taking your hand in his. “Let’s just go now, yeah? Get it over with.”

Even Remus looks surprised at that. “Alright,” he says after a second, “yeah, that’s a good idea.” He stands, and so does Sirius, pulling your hand upwards with him like you’ve any likelihood of following it.

You look at James for help. Even he seems resolved, but his eyes reveal more sympathy for your plight than the others’. “I know you’re nervous,” he says softly, hand brushing your cheek to slot a strand of hair behind your ear, “but do you really think we’re gonna let anything bad happen to you?”

You sigh, and when James stands you let him take you with him, his arm around your waist to support some of your weight as you limp out to the car. Sirius forgoes his usual place in the passenger seat to sit with you and James in the back, the both of them providing silent support by way of half-hugs (James) and a steadying hand on your leg (Sirius). It’s very difficult to be cross with people who are showering you in affection, but you manage. You sit sandwiched between them with an immovable frown on your face, spiraling deeper and deeper into your thoughts until suddenly you look up and the car has stopped.

Remus has turned around to face you from the driver’s seat. “C’mon, dove,” he says, and you notice that you’re the only one with your seatbelt still on. You take a breath, finding that your throat has become clogged with tears you didn’t feel coming on. You bite down on your lower lip, hard.

“Angel,” James sighs, and your guilt for putting them through this almost rivals your anger at them for putting you through this. He unbuckles your seatbelt himself, hauling you up against his side. Your face is hot with shame and unshed tears. “It’s a thousand times worse in your head than it’s actually gonna be, my love.”

Remus looks genuinely apologetic as he reaches over from the front seat, rubbing your knee. “I hate that you’re having to do something that makes you so anxious, sweetheart, but you’re in pain. We can’t make it better all by ourselves.” You meet his eyes, and he pushes his advantage, giving your knee a little squeeze. “Let’s just go inside, I’m sure it won’t take long. Okay, darling?”

“Okay,” you assent, following Sirius out of the car and allowing him to tug your arm over his shoulders, helping you hop towards the door. “Sorry I’m making this so difficult.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Sirius insists, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. James and Remus are both quick to agree. They’re laying on the affection rather thick, and any other time you’d be irritated by the delicate flower treatment, but right now you appreciate it. “We all have things that freak us out a bit,” Sirius goes on. “Remember when James saw that baby snake behind our place?”

“Ugh.” James shudders. “We agreed not to talk about that. I still think we should move.”

Sirius grins at his boyfriend’s misery, lightly bumping your hip with his. “There you have it, lovely. We’ve all got our things. So don’t worry about this, yeah? We’ll stay with you, and afterward we can hunt down Remus’ comfort chocolate.”

Remus huffs but doesn’t protest. Later, he’ll bring the chocolate out of hiding to give it to you himself.

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midnightshindig · 2 months ago

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Could you do a Debbie x fem!Reader story? I think she'd be cute with a girlfriend. Also, if it's Debbie's first time with another woman maybe they're using some toys in the bedroom.

Debbie x Fem!Reader

Okay here's where I tell you that I don't know how to write wlw intimacy bc I'm a gay man. I should probably know more about Saphics, like 3/5 of my family are wlw...

REGARDLESS, this is all sfw and wholesome and stuff. Please enjoy!

As alwaysss, hcs under the cut!

Olga takes Debbie to a gay bar

It's not for any particular reason, Olga's one of those women who views sexuality as fluid and so is Debbie

but she's not here to hook up

Olga just doesn't want weird dudes hitting on them

So they're at the club, and Debbie is enjoying herself for the first time in a long time. she's worried she might be a little old to be there, and that everyone there looks her sons age. Gross

she's about to go home when the bartender calls her over and slides her a martini

"oh- I'm sorry. I didn't order this." She smiles politely, sliding it back a little

"Naw miss, that lady at the end of the bar ordered it for you."

She looks down and there's this gorgeous woman in a frilly dress waving at her with a sweet smile

She doesn't look old, but definitely older than the freshly twenty one-year-olds polluting the rest of the club

and hell, maybe it's because Debbie is lonely or because of the way you're waving at her, but she goes over to you

"Um. Hello. My name is Debbie." She's stiff, awkward, out of practice, but she's endlessly charming in the effortless way her earrings twinkle as she extends a hand

You kiss her knuckles, looking up at her from your seat at the bar "Debbie, that's cute. I'm Y/n. It's a pleasure to see a gorgeous lady like you in a place like this."

Her face flushes red at your comment

"Oh my, well I- I'm flattered. But I'm not-" she pauses, before really considering her words

She'd been with women before, before Nolan. She'd been happy before Nolan.

Couldn't she be happy after Nolan?

"you're not?" you raised an eyebrow, crossing your legs "oh! I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, you're just really pretty- and I would hate to have missed my chance."

"No! No.. Haha, I'm." Debbie hesitates, before looking to Olga, whose smiling at her encouragingly "Would you like to get out of here?"

So the two of you end up walking around the area, getting a bite to eat at a local late night burger place.

The night was so heavenly and calm and enjoyable

Debbie hadn't been romanced like this in a while. Pursued like the capable, intelligent, beautiful and alluring woman she was

And you were so nice, so gentle and understanding and courteous

You didn't even bat an eyelash when she told you her husband was a dead superhero

"i''m sorry to hear that, Debbie. That sounds really difficult, you carry it well."

She's so flattered, and to be honest, you're really pretty in your own right

Like cmon a cute woman like you? Hitting on her? how can she say no?

So you two start going on dates, and then start going out, eventually she introduces you to Mark and Oliver

That goes about as well as you think it would

Mark is resistant to change, but he's glad Debbie has someone to be there for her

and boy are you there for her

you show up for her in every way

peak "you cook and I'll do the dishes and clean the kitchen" couple

She likes to fold laundry while you tell her about your job and day and whatever

You, in turn, like to listen to her whine about work or vent about life while you sweep

The two of you are a little power couple, and you have no issue chewing out whoever is mean to your lady

Straight up normal no-power gay girl going toe to toe with Cecil Stedman

you're a GREAT influence on Oliver, and are such a big help in keeping Debbie sane through it all

This kid adores your graphic liner and silly fashion, dude eats it up

Lowkey makes him a less boring kid, as he demands you do fun makeup looks on him

but like he's still a little guy and suuuuch a dude bro at times

You all go on a train together to show him what they're like and he just loses it when you convince the conductor to let him see the front

He adores you, which, in turn, makes Mark more fond of you

you're not a family per see, but you fit nicely into Debbie's life, and make her so happy

She couldn't do it without her loving girlfriend <3

#invincible show #invincible #invincible season 3 #invincible fanfic #invincible spoilers #invincible x reader #invincible debbie #invincible oliver #debbie x reader #invincible debbie x reader #oooooo i love debbie #debbie invincible #wlw #sapphic #sapphic fanfic

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k-n0-x · 1 year ago

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༺ ♱✮♱ ¨:·Something Stupid- Chapter 1·:¨ ♱✮♱ ༻

A/N- Hey everyone! I hope you guys are doing well. This story is a longer series of Lucifer Morningstar x reader where you’re Adam’s third wife. This story will have roughly 10 official chapters, but there will be shorter fillers which will be labelled as [previous chapter number].5.

I also made a playlist in honour of this fanfiction :D

Navigation

Enjoy! <3

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🦢♕✶💫☾🥀꧂

As you use your wings to sweep down to the sultry streets of Hell, you frantically look around for any stray troops, for them to tell you everything. Anything.

“Where is this gods be darned hotel,” You think to yourself, along with other incoherent and unfinished thoughts.

But it all connects back to one hanging thought in the back of your mind.

Heaven is a Lie.

What happened to all that “Killing is bad” and “Murder is sin” bullshit that they preached?

This is a genocide.

All of these demons, from young to old, didn’t do anything wrong, (well atleast, not in this moment)

Is it that hard for Adam to see?

He’s been feeding you these utter lies this entire time? This news was a bombshell on you at the meeting when that lovely young girl, Charlie was pitching her idea.

Speaking of bombs, a piercing and explosive sound emits from the other side of the city.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

As you traverse the debris of the crumbling city, you spot two familiar faces amongst the face of fire.

One of which that you despised ever since that meeting.

Lute.

The other had her back faced towards the lieutenant. Her horns protruded from her scalp and her long blonde hair billowing in the breeze, unaware that Lute was about to strike.

“LUTE, NO!” You put yourself in the face of the Angelic weapon, your wings disarming the troop general to avoid her striking down Charlie.

“Y/N? What in the actual living fuck are you doing here?”

“I should be the one asking the questions here,” You point an accusing finger into the general’s chest.

“Where’s Adam? I need to have a serious discussion with him. If you see any other troops, tell them to stand down,”

“You’re not my bos-”

“I said. Stand. The. Fuck. Down. NOW!” You stare Lute down, and she glares at you back.

She doesn’t say anything, but you could see her biting her tongue.

You turn to Charlie.

“Charlie, come on, we gotta go!”

“But, I- I don’t understand, why are you he-”

“Just trust me on this one okay? Go and make sure no one is in imminent danger. I will handle my husband myself,”

The Princess looks up at you, eyes flooded with admiration, trust, and hope as you soar back into action.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

You swoop in and out of shattered buildings in fruitless attempts to find Adam amidst the screams and battle cries of both Angels and Demons.

“Adam? ADAM?!” You screech into the crimson sultry sky.

Another explosive pierces through the sky from not far where you were barely a minute ago.

“Ugh, Lute I swear,” You mutter under your breath and your attention is quickly turned to two shadows attacking each other. You look overhead and see two figures; one of them is adorned with a priest’s garments (obviously, Adam), and the other… well…

Does not have a definable shape whatsoever.

One moment, it has taken the form of a bird, and the next it has the figure of a snake.

One thing never changed though, a sporting white top hat stayed gracefully on his head in each form.

This ever changing specimen seems to be teasing your partner.

“Adam? Haven’t seen ya since Eden,” He maneuvered between all of Adam’s punches.

“Gotta say, it really seems like you’ve let yourself go,”

Adam scoffs.

“You, Lucifer, judging me? You’re the most hated being in all of gods be damned creation!”

Ah, that makes much more sense now.

The shape-shifting demon, finally setting on a figure, with a smirk, almost nonchalant expression on his face.

Dodging the First Man’s bolts of angelic power, Lucifer still doesn’t relent with the tomfoolery.

“Well, your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer,” He places his index and middle gloved digits between his lips and drags them downwards, his snake tongue between them.

Ooof, that’s gotta hurt.

Well it definitely did. On Lucifer’s end that is for sure. One of Adam’s blows finally managed to hit him, knocking him backwards, and inadvertently knocking you out of your trance.

Fuck, you were supposed to be stopping this.

“ADAM!” Your husband turns to face you, looking from the ground, dumbfounded.

“Y/n?! What the actual fuck are you doing down here?”

“Why is everyone asking me that?!” You draw in a breath, irritated.

Just get to the point.

“Tell your little army to stop. Playtime’s over,”

Adam descends down to you, with disagreement written all over his face.

“Nah,” He smirks.

“What the FUCK do you mean ‘Nah?’ What are you, 10?”

“Yeah, 10 inches deep in you,”

Your face distorts into a one of disdain. Marrying is probably one of the worst decisions you made.

“You don’t need to make this any harder than it needs to be,” Then it clicked. An utterly vile, but devious idea struck your mind.

“Dear Adam,” you hum, layering on the most seductive voice you can. Both Adam and Lucifer look at you, both confused at your quick change of tone.

Well this is going to be the most embarrassing 30 seconds of your life.

Alas, you carry yourself with a more fluid demeanor, as his eyes follow you. Though as stupid as he is, he isn’t going to fall for your tricks that easily.

You snuggle up to him, your hand gently caressing his upper thigh, reaching right where the source of all manhood was. Stroking not only his dick, but his ego as well, which you were really going for.

You whisper in his ear.

“Come back home darling~ you need some time to rest, hm?” You let your fingers circle around his tip. “I’ve been waiting for you for a while now~”

He smirks. Bingo.

“Fine, but I’ll be waiting for you at home, love,” He says with a wild grin.

“Lovely,” you say through smiling teeth.

Though behind that smile, there is absolutely nothing worthy of mentioning.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

“Well, I sincerely apologise for my husband’s behaviour. Honestly, I would have stopped him sooner if I found out,” You bow to the group of demons.

Utter despair is written on the entire group’s faces.

“What’s the matter? I know your hotel has been blown to bits, but at least everyone here is safe,” your tone is uncertain.

“Right?”

Charlie is the first to pipe up to speak.

“Sir, Pentious- he-,” Her voice cracks.

“Oh honey,” you turn to try and comfort her with your wings, though abruptly interrupted by a threatening cough from Lucifer, who was behind you.

You want to comfort the Princess of Hell, but you decide against it and turn to face the group.

“I just want to say, before leaving, that I am on your side. I know Heaven is the real enemy and I will try to aid in any possible way, though right now I have to be going,” You look at each demon in turn, Lucifer for last, as he gives you a once over, as though you’ve intrigued him in some way.

“Well, erh, farewell. For now?” You give Charlie a tentative squeeze on the arm, and give Vaggie an acknowledging nod, which was returned.

As you spread your wings and soar back to heaven, you come to the realisation of what you’re gonna have to do when you get home.

Or rather, who…

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🐣♕✶💫☾🥀꧂

Word count- 1,229

#fanfiction #writers on tumblr #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #fluff #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #charlie morningstar #angel dust #hazbin hotel lute #angst #lucifer magne #lucifer smut #Spotify

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hyperions-light · 1 month ago

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Favorite Sentence Wednesday Saturday Thursday

Extremely belated tag game fill— thank you @basedonconjecture for the tag! Really enjoyed this one!

At first I was like hmmm is it conceited that I have so many favorite sentences from my own stuff? But then I decided NO, it wasn’t, because when I write I make things that *I* enjoy, so it SHOULD have a bunch of stuff I like in it lmao. And I hope your work does, too!!

So here are some absolute bangers, brought to you by ME:

He imagines himself a garden, seeds bursting up through the soil of his flesh, to make it more palatable.

From Flesh, a body horror about feeling yourself decay in real time <3 One of my fave things I’ve made, I think!

He felt— he had felt that he loved them. That his level of commitment, his devotion, his elevation of their family had been proof of it.

But had it been them he truly valued, or the facsimile— the dream of them that lived within him?

When they failed him, when they did not live within the strictures that he had set he had discarded them; could it be called love which was so inflexible, so militant in its demands?

From the beating of his hideous heart, a meditation on love, by a character who’s bad at it, in the middle of a mall thoroughfare accompanied by someone he hates.

“My God. Shut the fuck up!” Doffy shouts, the sound unnaturally loud in the silent field. “I don’t care if you’re sorry! I don’t care if you regret it! It’s done, it’s over, there’s nothing you can do. You can’t change it with your whining and your crying and your lamenting.

“I’m sick to fucking death of you and Rosi mourning the person you wanted me to be. I’m right fucking here. I’m right here! I’m just too— too disgusting for you to love, anymore. Fine. Fine! I understand, so just fucking go! Don’t come around me and my family, begging, with your sanctimonious eulogies for a person I never was!”

From it deepens like a coastal shelf, an AU of another AU about generational and family trauma. I think this sentiment is very relatable, although this character and his circumstances are decidedly less so.

Homing’s father was a towering force in his childhood; irrepressible, waspish and domineering, he demanded excellence from birth, though Homing had little to give. His face was made of sharp, angular lines, well-suited to the severity it often wore; his clothes pressed, immaculate; his back straight.

As an adult, he recalls his childhood in broad, sweeping strokes; outlines of events and places, like great splotches of paint on canvas. He remembers bright and cloudless skies beset by towers of white; many-colored parades through shining streets.

From the same fic as above, the opening paragraphs, minus a few sentences. I think they build the mood well and give a strong impression of the POV character’s father, which is vital to the success of the piece.

To each member of his family, to many cowering future corpses had he said, “My brother’s blood is my blood. That which offends him, offends me.” And for this protection, this service, he was repaid with betrayal.

That vaunted compassion, which his Sainted parents had so prized— that innocence and naiveté had made his brother ripe to bend to the first kind hand. To be leashed and made obedient to larger dogs laboring beneath Heaven.

From Resentment, a character ruminating on his relationship with his brother, before he kills him. No one ever reads this one because of the Major (canonical) Character Death, but I LOVE it.

Its use is reserved only for those worthy of it; no nameless underlings, no stepping stones on his way to greatness. It is a Heavenly instrument, each sacral bullet purifying the flesh in which it lodges.

Same as above— I love ‘each sacral bullet purifying’; it sounds so good.

This place is a greying husk; the sea and sky pale versions of what was, the people, the plants, and animals— everything, like a grotesque imitation of what came before.

Haunted, a reincarnation fic featuring the villains, who have some truly impressive baggage to deal with. Think this sets the tone for this part, well!

A part of Crocodile misses the park as it was, odd as that is. It was undoubtedly worse, but—it was familiar. He had walked through it on his way home so many times that he’d become fond of it. And now it’s gone. But such beautiful things have grown in its place.

Haunted, again. Think this line captures a very relatable sentiment, for people.

The telephone wires blur before his eyes, the colors of the houses and the sunset running together like diluted paint.

“I have wasted so much time,” he says, and he can hear his voice crack on the last word, much as he’d like to deny it.

Haunted. This moment really gets to people. MC is talking about his father, now old, with whom he has reunited after many years of estrangement.

“You may kiss—” Bon says, but they don’t finish, because Doflamingo grabs him, lifting him from the ground and kissing him as though he means to put every ineffable feeling, every moment of desperate wanting and desire he has ever experienced into a single act, and Crocodile can hear the crowd applauding, but it doesn’t matter, because—

—Because for a moment he transcends time, space, and possibility, and he knows they are on the deck of his ship, leaving the harbor for the first time with a new purpose, to traverse the great, grand sea—

—and as they pull apart, he opens his eyes to find Doflamingo before him, tears streaming down his face, and he realizes that everything he believed lost lives in the man in front of him; he is that world entire.

He realizes that they are found; they are whole; and that what they have built together transcends all that he once had. He laughs, and clutches Doffy fiercely, holding the universe in his arms, and—at last—he feels free.

Haunted. The Big Gay Wedding finale! Was really happy to find a way to pull together the themes, in this chapter, even though it wasn’t in the original plan for the fic.

It is Viago they want, despite what he has done; they return to him ceaselessly, like a river to the sea.

From speak to me in the language of reverence; was very pleased with the metaphor, here!

Wow, if you actually made it down here, thanks so much for indulging me!

#tag game #writing game #one piece #dragon age #my writing #Lark writes #fanfiction #long post

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what-if-i-like-my-mechs-older · 1 month ago

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As Optimus was coming with them, they'd had to make up some plan, basic really, make it seem like he was chasing them. Orion had let them draw on his arm this time, adding a moustache to the autobot symbol, it was the guards symbol and honestly after being under Sentinels command he'd come to hate it, the more he'd been there the more he saw the corruption within it.

So let the rascals draw on it.

Let others think he was chasing them through the Nemesis and cursing them out as they laughed, all three were genuinely having fun in this act of play.

Upon reaching the exit lift, two guards immediately stood infront of him.

"Megatron's orders are for you not to leave the ship, Autobot."

The other guy looked him over and nudged his friend.

"I hear he doesn't mind fraternising we could get him to do a favour for us and-"

Optimus didn't let them finish that sentence, especially not infront of the casseticons, he still didnt know how they were considered in this world and at least on his watch would not let them hear anything uncouth, covering both the guards faces in hydrant foam Orion pushed them to the side, he wasn't going to stick around to watch as they tried to clear their faces, he ran and grabbed the two smaller mechs and headed for the lift.

Prime was anxious, he wasn't running away, even though it was a short journey up he really did long for the outside, someone could stop them at any moment....and when the doors opened it was beautiful, the vast expanse of a glittering sea and bright sunlight.

The sweeping of waves and cries of seagulls he never thought he'd be so happy to hear them, understanding just a little of what Prowl had always admired of nature.

Breathing it in, oh he could be happy right here , but Rumble and Frenzy said they were taking him somewhere, he probably really shouldn't be trusting them as they were Soundwave's buuuuut...he could carry them straight back if they tried any tricks.

"Wait, how's the big guy gonna fly?"

Frenzy spoke first, looking at Rumble, who only shrugged.

"About that, I have a void space around me that only I can access, it's where my trailer goes among other things such as this."

(Because where else does it go no one knows)

They heard the similar sound of transformation as wing attachments formed on his back and both stood there , mouths hanging open as they stared at him.

"Now let's go, we gotta get out of here before we're caught, I want to see this place you two hang out!"

Not needing to be told twice they immediately went off with the Autobot trailing after them.

Megatron however along with Soundwave saw everything on the cameras. Rumble and Frenzy had nothing to do with their spying.

The Decepticon leader had believed Orion would be left at the lift opening, or dumb enough to jump from it, his disbelief had him loosening his grip on his mug causing Energon coffee to spill as it tilted.

Watching as wings just like that damn trailer of Optimus's appear out of the airs ass, what in the name of Primus and Unicron.

"Well, that didn't go as planned."

Soundwave stated, he'd already dropped his mug on the floor.

Megatron straighted his one and only chuckled.

"Indeed, it would seem our guest is full of surprises, but that does not matter, he will be back, I have a feeling that Optimus's from no matter what world do not break their promises, however if he does escape, you may personally bring him back yourself."

"And throw him back in the brig to cool off?"

Megatron sipped what was left of his drink , giving him a sideways glance.

"Yes back in the brig to cool off, we're letting him have a walk outside but let us hope your Casseticons don't draw the Autobots attention...we should probably prepare a disguise if he's going to do this sort of thing...the last thing we need is our Optimus discovering him. "

Soundwave sighed making an aggravated sound as he leaned his head back.

"Why did you take him in again?"

"As if the autobots need more fire power, seems like I made the right choice, can you imagine two Optimus Primes on the Autobots side?"

Soundwave literally couldn't argue that point, two Optimus's, even if this one did spit insults in his direction in particular might just make the Autobots completely unstoppable.

"If my Casseticons get hurt-"

"Don't start dictating to me, you bring them into battle constantly."

Megatron cut him off and set his mug down.

"Perhaps we should send in one of the seekers?"

"Not Starscream."

Soundwave answered, groaning as he rubbed his temple circuits, this whole ordeal was becoming a pain in his aft.

"Yes, agreed, Skywarp, would be better suited for this. At least he will not stab me in the back, but I'll send him out in due time. For now, let them have their fun."

Next piece

First piece

#transformers g1 #megop #transformers animated #megatron g1 #megatron #writing this for me #cross over #optimus tfa #soundwave #did you catch the hint about the brig #frenzy g1 #rumble g1

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johnwickb1tsch · 1 year ago

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you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) Part 5

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

PART 5.

“I really hate this building,” he grouses as you push through the security door without challenge. He sounds grumpy, and it’s almost…cute. You’re not used to having anyone worrying after you like this.

“I’ve never had a problem here,” you try to assure him.

He gives one last hostile look over the street like he expects a horde of marauders to come charging after you. But there’s just streetlights, and the few harmless hipsters who are still out and about on a Friday night. This city never really sleeps.

“Do you at least have protection in your apartment?”

You reckon he doesn’t mean condoms.

“What, like a gun?”

“Yes.”

“No,” you laugh. “I have a bat under my bed?”

He makes a sound through his teeth that indicates that is not the answer he wanted to hear. Again, you stumble on that stupid odd riser, and again he grabs for you, holding your waist with an arm that feels like steel, practically carrying you up the next three steps. He is tense, on edge after the fight, his eyes sweeping the shadows of your stairwell.

You hope that once you get him inside your apartment, he might calm down. For once the tumblers yield without a fight, and you pull him inside, locking the deadbolt again behind you. “Come sit down. Let me look at you.”

Instead he strides to the window, looking out over the street with a suspicious glare. He is manic, going to every window that faces the street and closing blinds and curtains. Then he stands vigil again, looking out through a crack in the blinds, his jaw clenched. He stands like that for a good minute before you insist, “John.”

He reminds you of a hawk, the way he turns his head to look at you without moving the rest of his body.

“It’s ok, honey. Do you want a drink?”

He lets out a deep breath, maybe relaxing a tad, though he’s still grinding his bottom teeth. “Sure.”

You know his poison of choice now. It’s possible you picked up a nicer bottle of bourbon than what you had on offer last time, a small batch vintage.

“Sit,” you insist, pointing at one of your chairs in the living room. You know it sounds like a command, but it seems like the only way to get through to him in this hyper-fixated state. After a long moment he finally obeys, lowering himself down into the cushioned seat with the weariness of a man ten years his elder. He seems as though he has done this all before—and he doesn’t like it anymore.

“You’re taking all this rather well,” he remarks, gratefully accepting the cut crystal glass from you, slugging back half of it.

“Well...that guy was an asshole.” You shudder as your think about what Sasha intended to do to you, and how he’d undoubtedly treated other women before you who didn’t have someone like John on their side. “A knife in the leg was the least he deserved. You taught him a lesson he won't forget.”

“Yeah. Too bad these guys aren't big on self-reflection. They prefer revenge.”

“You think they’ll come after you?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

You digest this, chewing on your bottom lip. “I can’t imagine how they could even find me,” you try to assure him. “It’s a huge city.”

The look he pays you isn’t exactly condescending, but it definitely makes you feel like he finds you naïve.

“Did you pay for your first round of drinks with cash?”

“No, credit card.”

He nods, like that’s all they would need.

“Seriously?”

“They have their ways.”

“Who are they, exactly?”

“I feel like it would be better if you didn’t know.”

“Oh no, we’re not doing that,” you say with your hands on your hips. “If someone’s coming after me, you’re going to tell me who.”

The wistful smile that twists his lips unexpected. “What?” you ask, unable to mask your annoyance.

“It’s just…I feel like I’ve had this conversation before.”

You realize you must remind him of Helen, with your no-male-bullshit attitude. It makes your heart ache at the same time it fills with pride. “Well, I learned from the best.”

You stare at each other for a long moment, and you feel your annoyance melt away as you study this man, so forbidding and yet beneath it all, a little fragile. You see it in his eyes, and there’s still blood on his brow, and you decide you want to patch him up more than you want to argue with him.

For now.

Maybe he feels some obligation to take care of you because of Helen, but it goes both ways. You know Helen would want you to make sure he’s taken care of too. You feel a little guilty that it’s taken this long.

“I’m going to go get my first aid kit. We’ll clean you up, then you can decide what you want to tell me. FYI, the less you know the better is not acceptable tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You cannot tell if he is amused, exasperated, or maybe both.

You return from the bathroom with your medicine chest, thunking it down on the coffee table. “Want another?” you ask, gesturing at his empty glass.

“Yes, but I shouldn’t. Good stuff.” You smile to yourself, wondering if your previous offering had been closer on the scale to paint thinner, remembering how he’d drank it anyway because he was a sweetheart. He was a conundrum, was what he was. This man was dangerous, and after what you’d seen earlier, you suspected he was possibly a killer. And yet, he was sweet. So sweet, at least to you, and those he considered friends. The warmth that bloomed in your chest for him was alarmingly not exactly—or not exclusively—lust related.

“Ouch,” you sigh, inspecting his brow. It’s a deep cut, and might actually require a butterfly. You won’t know until you clean it up.

You actually possess a passable first aid kit. Sometimes, art projects involving blades go awry, and you are in the habit of taking care of your ailments yourself. The cost of healthcare is utterly obscene, and until recently, out of your budget.

John lets you fuss over him, sitting still as a statue as you cleanse his wounds with saline solution then slather him with some antibacterial goop. Though you still feel a bit sick, and a bit giddy from the adrenaline, luckily your hands have stopped shaking. You do affix one butterfly closure to his noble brow, just in case. His eyes are closed, almost as though he is enjoying your ministrations, even though you know it can’t actually feel good.

“I’m not sure what else to do for this,” you say, touching his split lip lightly with a gauze pad, dabbing away the blood.

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” you say.

This could be an excellent window for him to really tell you what’s going on. You suspect he’s purposely distracting you when he reaches for you, tracing the line of your waist before his large hands settle on your hips, pulling you closer between his manspread legs.

“I’m feeling better now.” He looks up at you with those soulful dark eyes, and goddammit they should be considered an illegal weapon.

You know you should insist on answers before giving in, but your resolve utterly dissolves under his touch and that longing look, replaced with heady desire. This thing between you is a force to be reckoned with; it obliterates your good sense, your sense of propriety, your loyalty to your late sister. Anything that might have stopped you with anyone else ceased to matter with this beautiful man.

You are not sure if he pulls you, or if you just melt down into his lap, straddling him. His long fingers splay on your legs, pushing your skirts up your thighs, sliding higher and higher until he cups your ass with only your panties between you.

“My knight in shining black armor,” you sigh, touching his cheek lightly, wary of causing him pain. You think you see a bruise forming beneath the scruff of his beard.

“Hmm. It’s nice to be the hero, for once.”

“Are you usually the bad guy, John?”

His touch is feather light down your legs again, then up your spine and the backs of your arms, causing you to shudder uncontrollably. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

“I think I’m forming an idea,” you admit breathily.

“My clever girl. What ever shall I do with you?” You’re not sure why his praise makes heat and slick pool between your legs, as though you are melting from the inside for this man. His hands are in your hair now, his touch still so gentle, but oh so maddening. Your skin feels like its on fire.

You kiss him gently, because of the split lip. He is the one who deepens it, with a growing desperation and a disregard for his own pain that you find insanely titillating. His mouth travels down your neck, trailing kisses and grazing with teeth as though he means to eat you alive.

You would let him, gladly, and you writhe against him, grinding on the length of his hard cock beneath you. You didn’t even get to see it last time. Tonight, you determine you will remedy that.

Fingers hooked in the straps of your dress pull down, down and down until you are bared before him. His hand in your hair pulls, gentle but exacting, guiding you to arch your back, offering up your breasts for his delectation. His mouth on your nipples is pure magic, sucking and biting and flicks of tongue that drive you to the absolute brink. He could make you cum just like this, you think, with his mouth on your tits and riding his rock-hard cock through his pants.

It hardly seems fair, considering last time, you somehow manage to think through the fog of desire that has you so tied up in knots. You push against him, sliding down his body until you are on your knees before him. He watches you with such blatantly raw hunger it makes your legs weak; he knows exactly what you’re doing, and doesn’t have the will to tell you no. He watches you intensely as you reach for his belt, flipping it open. There is a weight on the belt that confuses you for a moment, until his hand goes behind his back, catching something.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, and you can’t think straight enough to even entertain it. He pulls out a small black blocky object—it takes you a moment to realize it’s a gun. You've never really seen one in real life until tonight, just in the movies. You are more curious than fearful as he sets it gingerly on the table. The possibility does not even register that he could be a threat to you. After everything you’ve seen tonight, this is just par for the course, and you return to your task with gusto, whipping his belt from their loops with a satisfying snap.

You cannot hide the fact that you are utterly pleased with yourself, and the corners of his mouth twitch, his hand caressing your cheek. You finish undoing his pants with your eyes half closed, so entranced by his light touch, until his manhood springs free into your hand, hot and velvety and oh my he is large. You roll your eyes up to meet his before descending upon him, slowly taking his swollen glans between your lips, swirling him with your tongue.

“Fuck, baby…”

The hand in your hair is not so gentle now; you don’t think he realizes he’s pulling, as you slowly take his length into the back of your throat, toying with the vein with your tongue. You slide more of him into your mouth, knowing you'll never be able to fit it all, but so willing to try. You bob up and down slowly, grazing him very carefully with your teeth, winning the most delicious moan from this man who is usually such a bastion of self-control.

His fingers comb through your hair, sending chills all down your body as you work him up and down. The tips of your bare breasts brushing his tautly muscled thighs sends spears of longing to your loins, and you press your legs for some relief.

It doesn’t work, but you are enjoying this, and you want to treat him, the way he treated you so generously before. He’s taken a beating for you, fought and bled for you, protected you, and you want to thank him in the most primal way you know how. You take him deeper into the back of your throat, as deep as you can go, savoring every thick inch of this magnificent cock. What a thing of beauty. He groans, and you would have smiled if not for the mouthful.

“Baby...so good to me.” His hips rock against you of their own volition, his grip tightening in your hair. “Touch yourself for me. I want to feel you cum with your mouth sucking my cock.”

He doesn't have to invite you twice. Your fingers find your weeping slit, toying with your clit while you go down on him. You find a rhythm like this, sucking him in time to touching yourself. Maybe it’s a little self serving, but then again...there is something cosmic in this. Something timeless and primal and he seems to be enjoying it all the more with your participation, the vibration of your moans teasing his hard shaft.

You feel that scintillating pleasure gathering in your loins, know you are close. Your pleasure almost takes you by surprise, it is so swift and violent, your body spasming with the mindnumbing explosion inside you. After last time, it’s almost the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. You take him into your throat fully and he cums with you, no warning, just the hot spill of his seed down your throat, filling your mouth. You swallow it greedily, only withdrawing when he stills beneath you.

You nearly collapse against his legs, your cheek resting on his lean thigh. This man is made of muscle and sinew. Through hooded eyes he caresses your face, toying with your hair. You shudder with aftershocks that are almost as pleasurable as the orgasm itself. You feel triumph as those burning dark eyes slide closed, overcome by afterglow, and maybe something else you don't care to name now.

“My sweet girl. You...are a marvel."

Something inside you blooms at hearing those soft words from him.

Slowly you sit up, stretching against him, using his hard body to help push you to your feet. Without a word you step out of your lacy pink panties and stick them in his jacket like a pocket square. He glances down with a lifted eyebrow, a small smirk pulling the corner of his mouth.

He’s so beautiful you could scream.

“Something to add to your collection,” you quip, alluding to the fact that even though he practically fled last time, you know he took your undies with him.

“I will treasure them as much as the last pair,” he admits with a woebegone smile that crushes your heart.

Your legs are trembling beneath you, and you hold out a hand to him, inviting him to follow you. “Snuggle with me?”

A few long moments pass, until you think he might reject the idea, but then he takes your smaller mitt in his and tugs you down into his lap. It is silly, how secure you feel curled up in this man’s arms, your head finding the warm crook of his neck. His masculine smell is utterly divine, and you could fall asleep there, with his long fingers stroking your hair. You snuggle in the quiet aftermath, spent and ever so content.

This might be what heaven feels like.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, when he brushes his lips against the top of your head and asks, “What would you say to packing a bag and coming to my place for the weekend?”

The suggestion takes you aback. Heat floods you as you think about just what you would get up to on a long weekend away at Casa Wick.

It certainly wouldn't be innocent.

Your little bubble of carnal pleasure bursts when you think of everything that happened outside your apartment, before you pleasured each other into a mind-numbed stupor.

“I would say I feel like you have an ulterior motive besides enjoying my company.”

“I do enjoy your company.”

“And I think you think I'm in danger. Are you ready to talk about that?”

“Am I allowed to say no?”

“No.”

He huffs with laughter, clearly amused with you. But behind it all, you see the shadow of worry in his eyes, a tension at the corners of his mouth. “Come home with me, and we can talk about there.”

You tilt your head, wondering if he would be so diabolical as to fuck you into a blissfully complacent stupor so he didn’t have to answer your questions the whole weekend. You’ve never been good at taking orders—or hell, even advice—at face value. You like to make decisions—read mistakes—for yourself. But maybe, just this once, you could have faith that someone has your best interests at heart. He’s older than you, maybe wiser, and seems to know a little something you don’t about the workings of the underworld of New York City. As surreal as it seems...you could actually be in serious danger.

Seeing that you are still thinking, he sweetens the pot, nuzzling the shell of your ear with his nose. “I will cook for you and spoil you rotten.”

You can only imagine what carnal delights spoiling implies with this man.

Well…fuck.

“Fine. I’ll pack a bag. But we are just postponing this Q & A.”

“Fair enough.” You extricate yourself from his lap with a stretch, and he gives you a light smack on your rear as you make your way for your bedroom. When you turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow he pays you a panty-melting (if you’d been wearing any) smirk that turns your brain to mush.

This man.

It occurs to you that this man is, in fact, dangerous to you. Not in terms of violence, but…you sense in yourself that if he asked nicely, you just might give him anything. You understand more than ever how and why Helen fell so quickly for John Wick, as you find yourself surrendering to your addiction to him with a secret smile.

<<PART 4 PART 6>>

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves #john wick fic #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x you

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www-findringo-com · 10 months ago

Text

From Afar

Yuno Grinberryall x Fem!reader

I'm unsure if i should have a specific banner for my series or my stories in general or if i should change it each time, tell me what you think!

cw - unchecked

Plot: Y/N Hanabi is a commoner who has always hated her fireworks magic even though the townsfolk have always praised her. As she grew up, a woman in her life changed her view completely, making her appreciate and slowly understand her "silly" magic.

Even if she started using her magic more, she had no interest in joining the magic knights, and yet during the elves' reincarnation, she helped save the people of the Clover Kingdom. This resulted in the Sorcery King noticing her and convincing her to join the knights, which, after many rejections, she. In the end. Took on the request and participated in the entrance exam a year after getting her grimoire. Once she joined the Blue Rose Knights, something or more like someone was going to completely change ,what once was, her daily routine.

Ever since I got my grimoire, it's almost as if life at the hostel got busier. I wouldn't exactly be mad about it because it means we're getting more and more clients, but it also means I have to use my magic all the time! But on the bright side, Serene always visited us and helped out a lot. She was the self-proclaimed Paladin of Justice for us commoners. Soon, she became known in my town, and people always asked me when she was going to be back. What a pain... But deep inside, it made me happy to know people liked my friend

"Y/N, darling, could you please go serve out the dishes?" My mom shouted from across the hall. It did sound like a question but if I even dared to refuse I would have been in trouble. I ran to the kitchen since the guest had been waiting for about twenty minutes. As soon as I opened the kitchen door a nervy comment hit my face: "Look who finally decided to stop sitting on their ass and help out!" My cousin spoke. He was the most annoying guy in the whole universe. And, if we weren't family, I would have already beat him up.

"Yeah yeah I'm here. Now give me those dishes before the guests get mad" I commented back and he gave me a snarky smile before handing me about four plates to bring out.

That afternoon I was sweeping the lobby when a shadow towered over my figure. Right after some water was splashed on the floor I had been cleaning for the past hour. "Whoops~" I turned around to be met by a woman, dressed in noble clothes and with the wrinkliest face I had ever seen. On her ugly wrinkly face sat a smirk as she fake apologized for 'accidentally', spilling her water magic on the floor. I was about to lash out on her due to my terrible customer service. But I was soon stopped by an angry voice at the entrance. "Excuse me, Miss. But who do you think you are?" We both turned around stunned, and I was met by none other than Serene. Paladin of justice for us commoners, I guess. The breath of the noble lady hitched, and she fought back: "And who might you be? Let me guess, a lowly peasant. '' She chuckled and looked at Serene funny. "And what if I am? What does that mean to you? That you're a high-level person but lowly scum in the eyes of righteousness? In a world where you can be better than most and be seen as a beautiful person, you chose to be part of the mass and just follow like a wet dog the orders of someone else? People like you are bland, stale, and boring. You're the reason why this kingdom is fucked up" The lady was left shook and speechless. After a bit she grunted and stormed off, letting Serene a clear path to me.

"How's it going, Y/N? D'ya miss me?" She chuckled and extended her arms as if she expected a hug. I laughed lightly and hugged her : "I really really missed you!" We talked for a bit before my father came up to me. "Oh, Y/N, didn't know you had friends coming over!" He greeted Serene. She shook his hand. They chatted for a few minutes but then he spoke to me: "Y/N why don't you go hang out with your friend for a while? we're not having any rushes right now, so feel free to go!" I thanked him before putting away my uniform and quickly reaching Serene. She put out her hand and as soon as I held it, she ran out the door and we started running through town! "Serene slow down. I'm gonna fall!" I shouted at her, to which she just laughed and brought me closer to her.

"Jump," She whispered to me, and I did. Immediately under us formed a sort of cotton cloud, which she used to make us move even faster. "Where are we going?" I asked as the wind hit my face, making me blink. "To the capital silly." She spoke softly as we flew up into the air, and I took in the look of a huge fortified city with a castle slightly taller than the rest of the city. I was in awe at the sight. It wasn't as picturesque as the one from the grimoire acceptance ceremony, but it was still beautiful. I could tell it was a very busy and packed city, even people in brooms were flying to it! Once we landed, I noticed that the city was even more packed and busy than I expected. People were coming from all over, well, mostly kids our age. Serene brought me to a food stand, and she had me try a fried salamander on a stick. The salamander was crunchy and oddly sweet, and then she made me try roaster purple viper, and it was very dry and stale. I hated it!

After an hour or more of going around, I stopped when a huge tree towered over an arena at the center of the city. Serene took a step back before emitting a shocked sound and putting her hand over her mouth. "Oops- I almost forgot why we're here." And at that point, I looked at her in confusion. Once again, she took my arm, and before running, she whispered and winked to me. "Don't worry, you just gotta be quiet," She ordered as she put a finger over her mouth. Right after we started running and she brought me to an entrance at the back of the arena I noticed a few minutes ago. We walked in, and inside were all the kids our age I had seen a few hours prior. "Serene, what is this?" I questioned her as i followed her steps through the round corridor. "This is the Magic Knights entrance exam!" I let out a confused sound before starting to get nervous. "Can we actually be here? Isn't it supposed to be closed off to the public? What if someone catches us? What if not just someone but a Magic Knight Captain?" I was sweating, not because it was July, but because I was scared. Serene was very Nonchalant about it, as if sneaking to the exam was normal to her. "Oh, don't worry, it's going to be fine!" She stopped and brought her arms on top of the stone fencing, which ensured people from not falling off, and on one hand, she rested her chin. Without thinking, I got right next to her and started watching the exam, and then a light clicked in my head. "Serene, look!" I pointed upwards since they were flying around on brooms. "That's the four leaf guy we met at the acceptance ceremony." She faced towards where i was pointing and chuckled. "Didn't know people could be so good at flying on their first time! He must be a very irritating prick. " I giggled with her. Even though of the annoying personality he showed at the ceremony, i just couldn't help but find something about him... Cool? As if he was acting cool just for me to look at him... Oh god what the fuck that is very desperate of me. Wow.

Serene and I kept chatting and having fun when, how I predicted, someone caught us. "Excuse me." We both worriedly turned around to face the stern and serious voice, only to be met by a golden mask with pom poms at the back. On further inspection, the guy was wearing a cape, and on it was the Golden Dawn's logo. For context the Golden Dawn is like the strongest Magic Knight company in the whole kingdom, being composed mostly of high-level nobles with lots of mana and an extremely overpowered captain. Wait a second... THAT WAS THE CAPTAIN WILLIAM VANGEANCE! I could feel my face go pale, and my legs shivered at the thought of being scolded and insulted by a high-lever knight... Before I could try to explain myself, the captain spoke.

"Your Gracefulness Princess Temima, What are you doing here?”

Huh... Princess... What?

Wait, why is he looking deep in Serene's eyes?

…

IS SERENE A PRINCESS???

I stood there shaking when Serene spoke up. "Who the hell is this Princess Temima cause I have never heard a name so stupid. Are you pranking us, you... Masked buffoon? Either way, now if you don't keep bothering us, my friend and I will go away. Please and thank you." She spoke sternly, almost pissed at him. Then she took my hand and we ran out of there as soon as possible. Once we were out, we were out of breath, and before I could ask anything to Serene, she spoke. "I think It's time I bring you home." Oh yeah, she was mad. I think that Captain really irked something in her. Without objection, I let her bring me home, and ever since then, I didn't see her again.

Timeskip few months

That evening, I was grocery shopping with my mom. Lately, I have been a little more upset than usual, so my family tried to get me out as much as possible. "Y/N dear, could you please go pick these things?" She handed me a small piece of paper, and I went on my merry way. Shopping was boring, I saw these people almost every day, and I did the same things every week. I just couldn't take it anymore. My life had become boring, plain, and stale like a piece of dry bread. I was mad at Serene for not showing up again. Not only that, but the fact she disappeared after someone high-ranked called her princess, which made her even more suspicious. If she really was a princess, why would she need to hide it? She's so lucky to be blessed with nobility and so cool to be royal yet help out commoners and peasants. Also, didn't that Vangeance guy call her Temima? Yet I've always known her as Serene, and I was supposedly her best friend! Ugh, she's so weird and difficult. It took me some time to finish getting the groceries before trying to find my mom. It was getting dark and kind of cold when suddenly the whole market heard something break and people screaming. I started coughing, and when I turned around, there was smoke coming from around the corner. The fire started spreading, and people started running. That's when I noticed that they weren't running away from the fire yet from something... Who could be attacking a common town? Without a second thought, I brought out my grimoire. "Firework Magic: Crossettes of Purity!"

I shouted, and from my hands, I shot 2 fireworks which ended in a cross, hence the name crossette, and the two fireworks collided and landed on whatever was attacking us, leaving it stunned. I then shot fire under my feet to launch me near the spot of the stunned foe. Once I landed, and the smoke went away, I was met with the disgusting and maggot filled rotting body of my old neighbor, an ex magic knight. Before I could do anything, the guy got back up again, and as I took in the look of the decaying corpse, something behind peaked my attention. I moved my eyes slightly only to be met by an army of un-dead people and lots of fire around us.

"What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On!”

And this was the second chapter!!! Sadly, I didn't have much inspiration for this, and maybe even for the next pair of chapters, they might be very, very boring, so please be patient with me! I tried to prep some angst between MC and Serene. i wonder if it'll be good! Let me know what you think and leave suggestions or even writing requests if you enjoy my style! see you next week with the next From Afar chapter!!!

-Ringo

#fanfic #ringociocco #writing #black clover #new writer boost #new writers on tumblr #yuno grinberryall x reader #oc #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #yuno x reader #yuno grinberryall #black clover x reader #anime #manga

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