#and when he and mate meet in the evening after he loses his job
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coco-loco-nut · 10 months ago
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Revelations
pairing: Daniel x reader
summary: Daniel casually mentions his wife after 11 YEARS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. Danny Ric comeback. 2025 season, he is back on rbr
request are open pookie masterlist part 2
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Being an engineer for Red Bull was something else. You have been with them since you graduated college, and truthfully you never want to leave, the team is your family, having been with them for 11 years.
You met your husband through your job, both starting at the ripe old age of 23, and despite the potential HR violations, Christian Horner practically set the two of you up on a date after being oblivious about each other’s crushes. Thus began Red Bull’s best kept secret.
“Happy 10 years, Danny,” you kiss your husband, him watching you analyze data. Christian made him promise to never use you as a mole, and the two of you very quickly agreed. Even when he was on Renault and McLaren, work talk was kept quiet. Daniel had a great season last year and was brought back to Red Bull Racing, Christian promoted you to be his race engineer, knowing Daniel would listen to you.
“Happy 10 years, my love,” he hugs you tight. Your children are home in Australia with their grandparents for the weekend.
“Good morning, Ricciardos. Happy wedding anniversary,” Christian greets you, sitting for the pre-race meeting. Christian celebrates your wedding anniversary almost as much as you do, but he is a part of the family. He officiated your wedding at this track 10 years ago today, and he is the godfather of your eldest.
“Good morning, I printed out some data sheets so we can determine strategy. I noticed some unusual tyre degradation, while it could be from the unusually high track temperatures yesterday, it is something we should plan for today,” you start, passing out the papers. Daniel will never not be able to admire you. Sometimes he misses what people say because he stares at you, the exact reason Christian helped get you two together.
“Let’s grab some coffee then go on a track walk,” Daniel holds his hand out to you after the strategy meeting, you happily take it. After your lap around the track, you meet with the other engineers while Daniel warms up and does media. As you are watching the F2 race for valuable data, someone from PR comes over to you.
“Watch this clip,” she says and you oblige.
Daniel, you seem in better spirits than usual, care to share?
I don’t know mate, I am usually a pretty happy person.
Here I was thinking that maybe you finally had a girlfriend
Nah, I don’t think my wife would be happy about that… I wasn’t really supposed to say that. If you are watching, sorry! I’ll make it up to you, love.
Well, I hope there isn’t a couch in your future. Good luck today.
Thanks, but she’s put up with me for 11 years, I doubt there will be a couch in the future.
“Oh, he might have the couch tonight,” you laugh a little, honestly surprised it took 11 years for him to accidentally say something.
“Looking back at all the photos, he is wearing a wedding ring, how did we not see that?” You hear one of the Mercedes drivers say outside the garage.
“You saw the video?” Daniel asks as you playfully glare at him.
“I did. I have a winning strategy for you, so maybe you can move off the couch tonight. Lose and you stay there longer,” you tease. Being his race engineer helps so much because you can subtly say things and no one picks it up, and any interactions between you seem normal.
“Yes, Mrs. Ricciardo,” he smiles and goes to get changed for the race.
Last car in, good luck Daniel
I don’t need luck, I have you guiding my race
Ok, Daniel, whatever you say
The strategy works out well, and planning for the hotter heat was a smart move. Christian hasn’t told you not to race with Max, so you push Daniel for the overtake.
“Come on, honey badger,” you whisper. Daniel has had the better strategy and better pacing, all day so he easily overtakes and keeps the lead through the final five laps.
Okay Daniel, last lap, Verstappen behind, keep the pace.
Does this mean I’m off the couch?
Focus.
Sorry.
And that’s P1, P1 very good, Daniel. Red Bull 1-2. You are officially off of the couch.
LET’S GO! Thank you team! I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Thanks for the brilliant strategy, and for letting me off the couch. Best wife ever.
Mhmm. Happy 10 years. Parc Ferme is clear for you, pull in so the team can celebrate.
Let’s just say that F1 TV streaming your radio broke the internet, and the drivers when they all got out of their cars and into the garages. You followed the team to wear Daniel was parking and the team pushed you to the front. Daniel celebrated there with the team, taking his helmet off and kissing you. The team wolf whistles around you.
“Go to the podium, we will celebrate with you there,” you push him in the direction of where he needs to go. Unknowingly to Daniel, Red Bull chooses you to represent them for the Constructors Trophy.
“Mate, how did you keep that a secret?” Oscar asks Daniel in the debrief room.
“It wasn’t much of a secret. Everyone in Red Bull knows most of the relationship,” Max says and Daniel nods along.
“Honestly, I don’t know how people didn’t know,” Daniel laughs. The FIA tells them to start heading out to the Podium and Daniel searches the crowd for you when he steps out, but can’t find you. He’s shocked but extremely delighted when you step out and stand beside Oscar for the Constructors trophy. The mischievous glint in his eye is a loud warning that you will be sprayed with champagne. You happily stand through the national anthems, clap when Daniel is handed the trophy, and beam with joy as you are handed the second trophy. Soon enough you are presented with champagne and the go ahead to spray it is given.
“Max!” you squeal and hide behind him as you both spray Daniel.
“Quit hiding my wife!” Daniel laughs and in a split second, your cover is gone as Max moves to spray Oscar. You and Daniel both pour the champagne in each other’s mouth.
“Ew, that’s almost as bad as if you guys were to kiss,” Max laughs. Daniel gives you a devilish smile, pulling you close to him and capturing you lips with his.
“The kids are going to be so grossed out,” you laugh and Oscar looks almost horrified.
“THE KIDS?!”
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meadowfics · 15 days ago
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lost island, found love
hwang jun-ho x female!reader
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warnings: descriptions of death, guns, angst, i added reader's background that was not in this request but I felt like it could bring jun-ho and reader together! i am not responsible for the content you choose to read.
word count: 4013
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you stand in the dimly lit room, the stench of blood and decay thick in the air. the body of the salesman lies slumped against the wall, lifeless, his once smug face frozen in a grimace. your fingers tremble slightly as you lower your gun, the weight of everything crashing down on you.
mr. kim is gone, killed by this salesman who now lies dead in front of you. 
gi-hun’s frantic voice echoes in your memory…his desperation when he begged you to find answers, to bring justice in order to get money. now, with the salesman gone, the trail feels cold.  
you don’t want to be here. not anymore. not with everything else hanging over your head like a storm cloud. hana is missing. your little sister, your only family left in the world. you’ve scoured every corner of the city, turned over every rock, but nothing. no sign of her. she wouldn’t just disappear. not her. not without a word.  
“we don’t have time for this,” a voice cuts through your thoughts, sharp and impatient.  
you glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting the man who’s been reluctantly dragged into this mess with you..jun-ho. a police officer, driven, stubborn, and entirely too by-the-book for your taste. 
he leans against the doorframe, his expression unreadable.  
“gi-hun’s been taken to the island,” he continues, his tone clipped. 
“those people with the masks, they don’t wait around. if we don’t move fast, we’ll lose the trail.”  
you grit your teeth, your mind warring between two equally impossible choices. find the island where gi-hun is being held, or keep searching for hana. it feels cruel, having to pick one over the other.  
“you think i don’t know that?” you snap, your voice harsher than you intended.  
jun-ho doesn’t flinch. he crosses his arms, his gaze steady and unyielding. 
“then let’s go. unless you’ve got another plan?”  
you hate him a little in that moment. his calmness. his ability to compartmentalize. you can’t do that. not when every step you take feels like a betrayal of your sister. you know he’s right. if you don’t act now, gi-hun’s fate is sealed.  
“fine,” you mutter, shoving past him. 
“but don’t get in my way.”  
he follows without a word, and for a while, the only sounds are your footsteps echoing through the empty streets. the weight of your gun presses against your hip, a constant reminder of what this life has turned you into.  
jun-ho finally breaks the silence. 
“why’d you take this job?”  
the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t answer.  
“because someone had to,” you say finally, your voice low.
“gi-hun deserved that much after everything he’s been through.”  
jun-ho nods, but you can feel his eyes on you, studying, prying. you don’t offer more. not about mr. kim. not about hana. not about the hollow ache in your chest that refuses to go away.  
the journey ahead feels impossibly long, but you push forward, each step heavier than the last. you don’t know if you’ll ever find the answers you’re looking for.. about gi-hun, about hana, about yourself. but for now, all you can do is keep moving.  
the next morning.. you’re in the small boat with a bunch of your ex-special forces mates.. gently rocking on the light waves, the rhythmic lapping of water against the hull doing little to calm the storm in your mind. 
there is a map spread out on the bench in front of you that feels more like a cruel joke than a guide. you’ve traced every possible route, every last scrap of information gi-hun left behind, but it’s like the island doesn’t exist.  
even though jun-ho insists that the island is a real place, and that he has been there too.
“anything?” jun-ho’s voice breaks through the silence, rough from hours of tension. he’s standing at the bow, one hand resting on the edge, the other gripping his radio.  
you don’t answer immediately, your eyes scanning the coordinates again, hoping something will click. the frustration is mounting. you’re used to solving problems quickly, decisively. in the special forces, there was no room for hesitation or failure. 
now, every passing hour feels like a countdown to losing gi-hun forever.  
“no,” you finally mutter, shoving the map aside. 
“it’s like they’ve erased the damn place off the face of the earth.”  
jun-ho exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. he’s trying to keep it together, but you can see the cracks forming. five days. that’s all the time you have before the trail goes completely cold, and neither of you can afford to waste another second.  
“we’re missing something,” he says, turning to face you. 
“they wouldn’t go through all this trouble just to make the island impossible to find. there has to be a way in. some clue we’re overlooking.”  
you lean back against the bench, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. your mind races through everything you’ve learned so far, piecing together fragments of intel like a puzzle.  
“it’s not just about the location,” you say, more to yourself than to him. 
“they’ve got to have a system. patterns. supply routes. something that gives them away.”  
jun-ho nods, stepping closer. 
“you think we’re being followed?”  
you glance up at him, narrowing your eyes. the thought hadn’t occurred to you until now, but it makes sense. an operation this big wouldn’t just let two random people snooping around go unnoticed.  
“probably,” you admit. 
“which means we’re running out of time faster than we thought.”  
he frowns, his jaw tightening. 
“great. so, we’re sitting ducks out here.”  
you pull your handgun from its holster, checking the magazine out of habit. 
“not exactly. i’m not going down without a fight.”  
jun-ho smirks faintly, though the tension never leaves his eyes. 
“you really are a piece of work, you know that?”  
“and you’re irritating,” you shoot back, sliding the gun back into place.
“guess we make a great team.”  
hours later.. the sun dips lower into the horizon, casting long shadows across the boat��s deck. the waves lap gently against the sides of the boat, though it does little to calm your racing thoughts.  
you glance over at jun-ho, standing near the bow with his hands gripping the edge. the man’s posture is tense, his shoulders squared as if bracing against some invisible weight. 
he hasn’t said much in hours, and you can’t help but notice the way his eyes flick toward the horizon and back, as though searching for something..or avoiding something.  
breaking the silence, you clear your throat. 
“you said you’ve been on this island before,” you start, your voice low but firm. 
“what did you find? if you don’t mind me asking.”  
jun-ho doesn’t turn to face you. his knuckles whiten against the edge of the boat, and his jaw tightens. the way his body stiffens tells you more than his silence does. he’s holding something back.  
“it’s... complicated,” he says after a long pause, his voice tight.  
you frown, stepping closer. 
“complicated how?”  
he finally turns his head, his dark eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before looking away. 
“it’s not something i like talking about.”  
jun ho’s answer frustrates you, but you bite back the sharp retort sitting on the tip of your tongue. you don’t have time for vague responses, not when every passing hour feels like another nail in the coffin for gi-hun..or worse, for hana who you could be looking for instead.  
“look,” you say, trying to keep your tone measured, “if we’re going to do this together, i need to know what we’re up against. whatever you saw, whatever you know, it could be the difference between us finding gi-hun or walking into a trap.”  
the police officer’s gaze drops to the deck, and for a moment, he says nothing. the sound of the waves fills the void, each crash amplifying the weight of his silence.  
“i saw the frontman,” he says finally, his voice barely audible.  
“wha- huh? the frontman?” you repeat, confused.  
he nods, his eyes still fixed on the deck. 
“he’s the one running the show, the man in charge of the island…i never got a good look at him. he always wore a mask but he nearly killed me.”  
the tension in your chest tightens like a coil. this new piece of information does little to ease your anxiety. did gi-hun know about this?
“that’s it?” you press, your frustration bleeding into your voice. 
“you didn’t see anything else?”  
jun-ho hesitates, his jaw clenching as if debating whether or not to say more. 
“no,” he says after a moment, but the hesitation in his tone sets off alarms in your head.  
“what aren’t you telling me?” you ask, stepping closer, your eyes narrowing.  
“nothing,” he snaps, a little too quickly.  
you don’t believe him, but you let it go for now. pushing him won’t get you the answers you need, and you can feel your own nerves fraying with every passing second.  
your thoughts drift, unbidden, to hana. the anxiety creeps in like a shadow, wrapping around your chest and squeezing until it’s hard to breathe. 
where is she? is she safe? the thought of her being hurt..or worse..makes your stomach churn.  
jun-ho’s voice breaks through your spiraling thoughts. 
“what’s your other problem?” he asks, his tone softer now, almost hesitant. 
“you mentioned it before, but you didn’t tell me what it was.”  
you hesitate, your fingers twitching at your sides. you’ve kept this to yourself for days, carrying the weight of it alone because you didn’t think anyone else would understand. but now, standing here with jun-ho, you feel the tiniest crack in your resolve.  
“it’s my sister,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.  
jun-ho’s brow furrows, concern flashing in his eyes. 
“your sister?”  
you nod, swallowing hard. 
“her name’s hana. she went missing a few days ago. no note, no sign of where she might’ve gone. we don’t have money and our parents died a few years ago, so it’s not like she could’ve just left on her own. she wouldn’t do that. she wouldn’t just disappear.”  
jun ho’s expression shifts, something unreadable flickering across his face… his hands clench at his sides, he looks as though he’s reliving a memory he’d rather forget.  
“maybe your sister is on the island too,” he mumbles, almost to himself.  
the words hit you like a slap. your head snaps up, your eyes widening. 
“excuse me?”  
he hesitates, his gaze dropping. 
“there’s something you need to know,” he says quietly, his voice weighed down by something heavy.  
you don’t say anything, your stomach twisting into knots as he sits down on the bench and motions for you to join him. you hesitate for a moment before sitting beside him, the tension between you almost unbearable.  
“the island,” he begins, his tone measured but laced with something darker, “isn’t just a place. it’s a... game. a series of games, actually. people are brought there, and they’re forced to compete. if they win, they get an obscene amount of money. if they lose...”  
he trails off, but you don’t need him to finish. the implication is clear, and it makes your blood run cold.  
“you’re telling me it’s some kind of... death game?” you whisper, your voice trembling.  
he nods grimly. 
“exactly that… and if your sister is there...”  
you don’t let him finish. you can’t. the thought is too unbearable. if hana is on that island, then every second counts.  
“did she leave anything behind?” jun-ho asks, his voice gentler now.  
you shake your head, your mind racing. 
“nothing. no clues, no messages. just... gone.”  
you feel something on your left hand and you look down to see that his hand brushes yours, tentative but steady. you glance at him, startled by the contact, but his expression is soft, almost reassuring. 
“we’ll find her,” he says, his voice quiet but firm.  
for a moment, you don’t respond. the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice..it’s almost too much to bear.  
“thanks,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.  
the two of you sit there in silence as the moon rises above the ocean, casting its pale light over the water. without thinking, you lean against him, your head resting lightly on his chest. he stiffens at first but then relaxes, his arm brushing around your shoulders in a way that feels deliberate.  
“we’ll figure this out,” he says again, his voice steady now.  
you nod, closing your eyes for a brief moment. the closeness between you feels... safe. like you’re not alone in this, even if it’s just for a night.  
by the time the sun rises, the moment is over. the vulnerability, the quiet intimacy.. it’s gone, replaced by the sharp focus of the mission ahead. neither of you mention it, but something unspoken lingers in the air, a bond forged in shared fears and quiet confessions.  
four days. that’s all you have left. 
in the early afternoon.. the boat slows as it approaches the shoreline. you grip the semi-automatic rifle in your hands, its familiar weight a comfort despite the unease settling in your chest. 
the island looms ahead, shadowed and uninviting, with dense foliage lining the shore and no sign of life beyond the eerie stillness.  
jun-ho steps off the boat first, his movements precise and calculated. the police officer’s handgun is holstered at his side as he holds the bigger automatic in his hands, his posture is straight. 
you follow, your boots crunching softly against the gravel as you step onto the narrow path ahead. the rest of the team falls in line behind you, their weapons raised, eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.  
jun-ho turns to face the group, his expression stern.
“i’ll take point,” he says firmly, his gaze meeting yours briefly before moving on.  
“i can lead,” you interject, your voice steady but firm.  
“no?” you say. 
“yes.” he protests. 
“well, mr. policeman– were you in the special forces or is this you saying that you do not tru-” 
“let me just protect you, okay?” he says your name after. jun ho is clear. he shakes his head, his jaw tightening. 
the words catch you off guard, a warmth creeping into your chest despite the gravity of the situation. your grip on the rifle tightens as you search for something to say, but all you manage is a curt nod.  
“fine,” you mutter, falling into step behind him.  
the trail is narrow, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. bushes and vines press in from both sides, the occasional rustle of leaves setting your nerves on edge. jun-ho’s steps are deliberate, his eyes constantly scanning the path ahead, while you cover his back, your weapon at the ready.  
you clear your throat, your voice low. 
“everything look okay up there?”  
he glances over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “so far,” he replies, his tone clipped but calm.  
the tension between you hums like a live wire, unspoken words lingering in the air. it’s not just the situation..it’s him. the way he moves, the way he keeps glancing back at you, as if he’s making sure you’re still there.  
you push the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. the gravel crunches beneath your boots as the trail twists and turns, the thick canopy overhead blocking out most of the sunlight. the rest of the team moves in a tight formation, their weapons raised, their eyes darting to every shadow.  
“trail’s too clean,” you mutter under your breath, your gaze sweeping the ground. 
“like it’s been used recently.”  
jun-ho nods, his jaw tightening. 
“I noticed.”  
you glance at him, your brows furrowing. 
“so, what’s the plan if this is a setup?”  
he doesn’t answer right away, his focus on the path ahead. when he finally speaks, his voice is low and deliberate. 
“we deal with it. we’ve gotten this far.”  
jun ho’s confidence is steadying, even if you don’t entirely share it. you scan the surrounding foliage, the weight of the rifle in your hands grounding you.  
the gravel path suddenly widens, opening into a small clearing. jun-ho raises his hand, signaling for everyone to stop. the group freezes, weapons raised, as his sharp eyes scan the area.  
“what is it?” you ask, stepping closer to him.  
he gestures to the far side of the clearing, where another trail picks up. 
“it splits. two paths.”  
your stomach tightens. splitting up isn’t ideal, but staying bunched together could make you an easy target.  
“we should split into two groups,” jun-ho says, his voice calm but authoritative. 
“cover more ground.”  
you hesitate, glancing at him. 
“are you sure about that? we don’t know what’s out here.”  
“that’s why we keep communication tight,” he replies, his gaze locking with yours. 
“stay close to your group. and don’t take risks.”  
“fine,” you say again, your voice softer this time.  
as the group splits, you end up with jun-ho, a decision that seems less about strategy and more about his insistence on staying close to you. you can feel the others’ eyes on you, their curiosity unspoken but palpable.  
the new trail is narrower, the overgrowth pressing in from both sides. jun-ho keeps his pace steady, his shoulders brushing against yours occasionally as the path twists and turns. the silence between you stretches, heavy with unspoken tension.  
finally, he breaks it. 
“you okay back there?”  
“i can handle myself,” you reply, a touch of defensiveness in your tone.  
he glances at you, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. 
“i know. doesn’t mean i won’t worry.”  
the warmth from earlier returns, stronger this time. you focus on the path ahead, unwilling to let him see how his words affect you.  
twelve hours later.. in the middle of the night in the lounge area, you feel suffocated. even with the boat’s attempt at cozy decor. the low hum of the boat engine is drowned out by the relentless patter of rain against the windows. 
you sit on the worn-out couch, staring blankly at the table in front of you. the rain, usually a source of comfort, does nothing to soothe the storm brewing inside you.  
you feel defeated. empty.  
the mission on the island earlier had led to nothing. the island turned out to be nothing more than a small, desolate beach. no inhabitants. no clues. nothing. 
three days left, and it felt like you were running out of time faster than you could grasp.  
your chest tightens as your thoughts drift to hana. after losing your parents, she was the only person who made life bearable. she kept you grounded, gave you a purpose and a source to keep surviving after leaving the special forces. when mr. kim introduced you to gi-hun, you found a new sense of direction, but hana? hana was always home, and now she is gone.  
your eyes sting, and before you know it, tears are slipping down your cheeks. you wipe at them angrily, frustrated at yourself for breaking down when you should be focusing. however, the thought of your sister..alone, scared, maybe hurt or worse..it’s too much.  
“why would she do this?” you whisper to the empty room, your voice trembling. 
“why would she risk her life for money?”  
your hands tremble as they clench into fists on your lap. you know the answer. it was always about survival, about getting out of the hole life had thrown you both into. hana didn’t know the cost. she didn’t know about the games, about the killings. 
she didn’t know that the promise of wealth came with the risk of ending up in a coffin on some forgotten island.  
a sob escapes your lips, and you bury your face in your hands, the weight of it all crashing down. the fear, the hopelessness, the anger.. it spills out in ragged breaths and muffled cries.  
you don’t notice the quiet footsteps until you feel a pair of arms wrap around you, pulling you into a warm, soft chest on the couch.  
“it’s okay,” jun-ho’s voice is soft, steady, grounding. 
“we’ll find her.”  
you stiffen at first, caught off guard by his presence, but his hand moves up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes, and you let yourself lean into him.  
“i don’t know...” you choke out, your voice breaking. 
“i don’t know if we can.”  
jun-ho pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. his eyes are filled with something you don’t expect.. understanding.  
“i lost my brother many years ago,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that matches your own.  
you blink, your tears pausing for a moment. 
“your brother?”  
he nods, his gaze distant. 
“he disappeared without a trace. for years, i didn’t know what happened to him. i thought he was dead. then, when i found him... he wasn’t the same.”  
you can see the pain etched into his features, the weight of a story he hasn’t told anyone else.  
“but you know what?” he continues, his voice growing firmer. 
“i still went after him because he was my brother.. because that’s what you do for your family. and that’s what we’re going to do for your sister. we’re going to find hana. we’re going to find gi-hun, and we’re going to end this.”  
jun ho’s words wrap around you like a lifeline, pulling you out of the spiral of despair. you don’t know how he does it.
you don’t say anything, but you shift closer to him, burying your face in his chest again. the policeman’s arms tighten around you, holding you like he’s the only thing keeping you together.  
as the rain continues to fall outside, the world beyond the boat fades away. all you can feel is the warmth of his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his presence anchors you.  
after a while, you sit up, wiping at your tear-streaked face. jun-ho reaches out, his thumb brushing against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. the tenderness of the gesture sends a shiver through you.  
“you’re way stronger than you think,” he says softly, his voice carrying a quiet conviction.  
your eyes meet his, and something shifts in the air between you. the tension that’s been building over the past few days comes to a head, and before you can think twice, you lean in.  
the moment your lips meet his, it’s like the rest of the world disappears. the man’s left hand cups your cheek and his right hand grabs your lower waist, pulling you closer, and you feel the weight of his kiss. 
he kisses you back with a quiet dominance, his other hand resting on your waist, holding you steady. it’s not just a kiss…it’s a promise. a promise that he’s here, that he’ll protect you, that you’re not alone.  
your hands find their way to his shoulders, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to reality. the rain pounds against the windows, the boat rocking gently with the waves, but all you can focus on is him.  
when you finally pull back, your breaths are heavy, your foreheads resting against each other. his eyes search yours, and you see the same vulnerability reflected back at you.  
“we’ll get through this,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady.  
you nod, your fingers brushing against his jaw. 
“together.”  
he kisses you again, slower this time, as if savoring the moment. and for the first time in days, you feel a spark of hope reignite in your chest.  
outside, the rain continues to fall, the boat drifting along the waves. somewhere out there is the island you’ve been searching for, the answers you desperately need. 
for now, at this moment, all you can think about is the strong man holding you and how his lips give you the reassurance that you desperately need.
a/n: hope you enjoyed <3
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marauder-misprint · 16 days ago
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Hi! I have no idea how to request correctly butI really liked how you write fred and I was wondering if I can maybe request you doing qn insecure!fred x reader where they are dating and molly wants reader to come over but fred knowing they are poor doesnt want the reader to see. When he tells her and she agrees to come over and meets his familyi(the ones she hasnt met yet) she slips up on something stupid like saying a twosided comment about their house and molly takes it the bad way, disliking reader and pressuring fred into breaking up with her but reader gets defensive and they fight, the weasley siblings on readers side and in the end molly starts to tolerate you. You absolutely don't have to but thx anyways!!
Thank you for the request! Although, I think you are referring to a Fred fic I reblogged so I can’t take credit for that 😅 ANYWAYS, I hope you like this - my first Hogwarts Era (Trio Era? Golden Era? Lightning Era?) 
Peculiar
insecure!Fred x reader
3.4k words
cw: angst, fluff, y/n
One thing Fred liked about Hogwarts was his family’s financial situation didn’t matter. Everyone wore the same uniform, even if his were hand-me-downs from Percy, and his family always managed to pull through to get the supplies they needed, which meant his broom wasn’t the newest but it did the job. He knew he couldn’t pretend his family had galleons upon galleons in their vault like other families. He knew he couldn’t spoil his new girlfriend in all the ways he wanted to, and by goodness, did he wish he could spoil you.
Still, things were going good. You didn’t discuss your family’s financial situation much, just enough for him to know you were from a more well-off family. You were only teenagers after all. You enjoyed spending time with each other and all of the other things that came with teenage romances, including the moments where you both that maybe it could be more than just a teenage romance. 
Things were good. Until a letter from Molly arrived. 
Errol near crashed into the Gryffindor table at breakfast in his typical fashion.
“INCOMING!” Lee hollered as the aging bird landed among the plate and globals, sending food and drink everywhere. 
“Oh, Errol,” George groaned as he untied the letter at his foot. “Oi, Freddie, it’s for you.”
Fred took the letter and quickly read it, a frown appearing on his face the further down he got in the letter. George picked it up right away, despite barely being able to see it in his peripheral vision as he tended to the owl. 
“What’s it?” he asked. 
“Mum wants me to invite Y/N to the Burrow over the summer.” His frown was paired with bunched brows and a pale face. 
Katie clapped Fred on his back enthusiastically. 
“That’s good, yeah? She’ll get to experience that Weasley hospitality Molly’s known for!”
Fred just shook his head, rereading the letter. It was bad enough that he couldn’t spoil you at school, but what would you think if you saw his home, how they lived. It wasn’t as bad as some people teased, but it certainly was no Malfoy Manor or Diggory Estate. 
“Mate, am I getting the invite this year?” Lee asked George, throwing an arm around his shoulder and shaking him. 
“Can’t. Mum’s already planning for Harry and Hermione. Plus Bill, Charlie and Percy will be home too. I think Perce is having Penelope over too? It’s going to be a full house.”
Lee swore. “Losing to your girlfriend, Fred. It hurts,” he said teasingly. 
Fred crumpled the letter and shoved it into his pocket. He didn’t say anything for the rest of breakfast. 
“Okay, why the long face? Don’t you want Y/N to come?” George asked Fred as they made their way to their first lesson of the day. 
“I… It’s the Burrow. What if she expects more? Better?”
George just shrugged and then gave his twin a knowing look. “So we don’t wipe our arses with galleons. It don’t matter that much. You know Mum just wants to meet her.”
“Mum really wants to meet her.” Fred stopped walking. “Do you know who told ‘er? I hadn’t mentioned Y/N in any of my letters yet.”
“Probably Ginny,” George laughed. 
“What’d my favorite Weasley do?” you asked as you caught up with the boys, a grin on your face. 
“Aw, I thought I was your favorite,” George whined with a faux-pout. 
“Ginerva is telling Mum all my secrets,” Fred said before planting a kiss on the side of your forehead. You didn’t need to know that you were one of those secrets. 
The boys stopped discussing the letter for the time being. George at least had the tact to talk to Fred about his worries about you at a later time. 
You weren’t oblivious to Fred’s palpable worry during the day. He wasn’t normally this quiet or fidgety. Maybe there were days when he was more restless than usual, but today, he kept checking the clock, nervously cracking his knuckles and crumpling something in his pocket. 
One glance at George told him that you were picking up that something was off.
“Don’t worry ‘bout, love. I’ll get ‘im sorted out for you,” George whispered to you after classes before hurrying to catch up with his brother who had already started making his way to Gryffindor Tower.
You watched them both with a concerned frown, but eventually decided not to think about it too much. Did you wish Fred would talk to you about whatever was eating his mind? Yes. But if George was convinced he could get his brother out of the funk, it couldn’t be too bad. 
“Do you think she’ll dump your sorry arse when she sees home?” George asked once they were far enough away. 
Fred didn’t answer. His brain said ‘maybe’ but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it.
George laughed in disbelief. “She wouldn’t! Bloody hell, why’d you think that?”
“You know she comes from… more,” Fred said quietly, the words feeling uncomfortable in his mouth. You weren’t rich rich, but still, it was more than the Weasleys. 
“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think she’s a gold digger.” George clamped a hand on Fred’s shoulder as they stood outside the Fat Lady’s portrait. “If she was, don’t you think she’d be with Flint or Pinch-Smedley, or Oggspire? Don’t be dense.” His voice had taken a firmer tone.
Don’t be dense, Fred repeated in his mind as he sat in the common room waiting for dinner. Don’t be dense. It’d be fine. It had to be. Was it a tad embarrassing? Sometimes, but at least they didn’t all sleep in one room like Malfoy had once said. 
Fred called you over to sit with him at dinner and by the way he smiled at you as you sat down next to him, you knew George had worked some magic. Fred was back to being Fred. He leaned in as you filled up your plate.
“So, I was wondering if you’d like to visit the Burrow this summer. Mum’s given permission. She’d love to meet you,” he said in a hushed voice. 
You had heard stories about summers at the Burrow. You knew it was home to more than the Weasleys when school was out; Harry, Hermione, Lee, Angelina, Katie, among others, had all been. There were legends of 3-on-3 quidditch matches and Molly’s delectable meals. And you had just been invited. Your face lit up with the brightest smile Fred had seen since the day he asked you out. 
“Yeah, Fred, I’d love to!” You leaned forward so you could see George on Fred’s other side. “Hear that, George? I’m going to see the Burrow!” 
---
Your mother dropped you off at the nearest muggle village to the Burrow. She waited with you until Fred came to meet you. 
“Your parents will be there the whole time?” she asked him when he arrived.
“Yes, ma’am. Mum is dying to meet her,” he said politely.
You, however, rolled your eyes. You bid your mother goodbye and went with Fred.
“I assured her that your parents would be around. Told her you guys have friends over every summer,” you ranted to him as you walked. “That your mum loves to host and meet all your friends. I mean, how else would she get to meet everyone that Ginny talks about in her letters home?”
Fred laughed. Of course you knew it was Ginny who wrote home the most.
He cautiously watched your expression as the Burrow came into view. They had passed the barn and chicken coop, along with several animals. You were speechless as you looked the house up and down. His worry about what you would think melted away when he saw the pure awe on your face. 
“What a peculiar home!” you exclaimed as you reached the sign that said ‘The Burrow’. “The magic-”
“Peculiar?” Molly gasped from the kitchen. 
You hadn’t noticed her yet, still taking in everything that was the Burrow. It’s many stories with rooms jutting out every which way that gave it a very crooked and semi-lopsided appearance. Just from the outside, it was very different from any house you had ever seen, wizarding or muggle. 
You gave Fred a concerned sideways glance. His mother did not sound happy with your comment. He gave you a soft yet reassuring smile. This was his home after all and you had agreed to come stay and meet his family, and so far, you were taking it well.
“You’re here!” Ginny squealed as she burst out the front door and pulled you into a hug. “I can’t wait to show you around!” 
“I can show Y/N around just fine, Ginny,” Fred said, an easier smile coming to his face. 
You just laughed, taking Ginny’s hand once she released you. The three of you entered into the house and walked right into the surprisingly harsh gaze of Molly. 
“Mum,” Fred said warily. “This is Y/N.” 
“Pleasure to meet you,” you said kindly. “You have a-”
“Peculiar home, as you said outside,” Molly cut you off. 
You took a step backwards, stepping on Fred’s foot. He sucked a breath in, loud enough for you to hear. 
“Dinner’s at seven. Keep doors open,” she added shortly before turning back into the kitchen. 
You tried to give Fred a questioning look but he was staring after his mother.
“Come with me. I’ll show you my room! It’s where you, me and ‘Mione will be sleeping. Like one big slumber party!” Ginny said, grabbing your arm again and pulling you toward the twisting stairs. 
Once you and Ginny were gone, Fred followed his mother into the kitchen.
“Mum?” he asked cautiously. 
In his mind, he wanted to ask ‘what the bloody hell was that? You gave me, George and Ron an easier time when we stole Dad’s car to rescue Harry.’ He didn’t, but he wanted to. And he was glad he didn’t when Molly spun around, glaring and pointing a wooden spoon at him.
“Do. Not.” Her voice was sharp. “That girl… The gall… Insulting us before she even…” She turned back to the pot she was stirring and was more muttering to herself than talking to Fred. “Expects us to feed and care for her… Peculiar… I’ll show her peculiar…” 
The rest of the day and the next two were filled with never-ending fun, except for meals when Molly sat down and glared at you from across the table. You spent most of your time with Fred and George, as you had expected to, but you helped with chores around the house and chatted with just about everyone. Percy and Penelope were more quiet than the rest, often opting to read or discuss their jobs quietly when they returned from them. You tried not to take it personally that Molly seemed to like her much more than you. 
Then you got the delight to meet Bill and be properly introduced to Charlie. The latter had been at Hogwarts when you started but it wasn’t like you ever really interacted. The eldest of the Weasley children were incredible story-tellers and just as hilarious as the rest of them. The way Charlie talked about his work with dragons almost made you wish you had taken Care of Magical Creatures and Bill’s stories about Egypt and Gringotts were overall impressive. 
The fourth day of your stay is when you heard how unwelcome you apparently were at the Burrow. Or, at least, according to Molly. 
The living room was alive with various games being played by the siblings and guests. Exploding snap, wizards’ chess, gobstones, you name it. It was loud and warm and fun. Fred noticed your glass was empty and went to the kitchen to refill it for you. 
“Ever the gentleman,” you laughed as he disappeared through the door.
“Fred, how dare you bring a girl like that into this house!” Molly’s voice could be heard through the walls, sending a sudden hush through the room. 
You blinked, looking from George to Ron to Hermione. 
“I thought your family didn’t care about status?” you asked, confusion obvious on your face. 
The Weasley were purebloods. You were a halfblood but Hermione was fully muggleborn and Molly didn’t seem to have a problem with her. Maybe her issue was with wizards and muggles mating? Certainly a new take on blood status… 
You could hear Fred and Molly arguing although significantly quieter than her first outburst. When he returned, his face was beet red and he had forgotten the glasses of water. 
“So, what was that?” Ron asked, breaking the tension.
Fred shook his head before forcing a smile. “Nothing. Just a miscommunication.” 
You knew it wasn’t nothing. For a prankster, Fred could be terrible at lying if something wasn’t sitting right with him. You and George tried to get more out of him to no avail. He wouldn’t discuss what he and their mum had argued about. You two knew it was about you, but Fred gave no details.
When Fred worried about bringing you to his home, he didn’t know that he was worrying about the wrong person. You loved the Burrow and he felt that that much was plain as day to see. But it wasn’t to Molly and Fred ended up telling George as much when he asked him again when they were alone in their room. 
“She wants me to break up with Y/N,” Fred whispered, his voice shaking from anger. “Said she’s too proud for the family. Too stuck up. That she’s rude.”
“But she’s not!”
“I know she’s not. I tried to tell her that. Explain what Y/N meant by ‘peculiar’ and that it’s a good thing. Mum wasn’t having it.”
And the next day, things got worse. Molly stopped trying to hide her distaste for you. She didn’t mutter her comments anymore, rather saying them with full conviction. You tried to stay out of her way and genuinely tried to keep your expression pleasant, but the constant bombardment of hurtful words was getting too much. You hit your breaking point at dinner.
“Can you pass the salt?” you asked no one in particular. It didn’t matter who passed it to you as long as someone did. 
“In this peculiar home, we use manners,” Molly snapped. “Fred, I told you, you need a girl with manners. She certainly doesn’t have any.”
Your expression twisted. 
“Would you rather I just reach over the entire table? Sorry I forgot ‘please,’” you replied, sounding harsher than you would normally speak to any adult, let alone your boyfriend’s mother. 
Molly scoffed. “You are no good for my Fred. You are lucky I don’t toss you out now. He can do so much better.” 
You stood up with so much force your chair scraped the floor, hitting the wall. 
“If that’s how you feel about me…” Your voice cracked. You could feel the heat rising to your face and your hands beginning to shake. Tears began to well behind your eyes, but you weren’t going to let Molly see you cry. “No need to toss me out. I’ll just leave now.” 
You turned and left the room before chaos broke out. You could hear Fred and George yelling. You could hear Arthur and Molly yelling. Ron, Hermione and Ginny joined in before you made it to the front door. 
When Fred had invited you to spend time with his family over the summer, you didn’t expect to be in their garden sobbing as you launched garden gnomes over the hedge. You could still hear the yelling inside the Burrow. You weren’t exactly sure what you did wrong, what you did to make Molly dislike you so much so quickly. Your wand laid on the ground off the side with a soft glow from the Lumos you had cast so you could sort of see what you were doing.
“Are you… de-gnoming our garden?” George asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as you launched another gnome. The yelling had quieted now, but you could still hear that heated words were being exchanged.
“One bit me…” you mumbled before sniffling again. 
One had bit you, but that wasn’t why you were crying and you knew that George knew that. Being bit, however, made you feel slightly better about the tears streaming down your face. 
“You know he’s not going to break up with you.”
You nodded. “What did I do?” You launched another gnome.
“You, erm, called the Burrow peculiar? I guess Mum didn’t like that…” He chuckled awkwardly.
When you gave a loud sniffle instead of laughing with him, he pulled you into a hug. You dropped the gnome you had in your hand.
“She’ll come ‘round. Fred’s in there. Ron’s there. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Percy even. They are all trying to explain to Mum that you didn’t mean it like that. I mean, come on, you got golden boy Percy defending you.”
You gave him a weak smile as you pulled out of his hug. You picked up your wand and pointed it at the Burrow, although it didn’t do much to illuminate the building. 
“It is peculiar though! It’s amazing! Ne’er seen anything like it before. It’s so… distinctly Weasley in the best way possible!” 
George let out a loud laugh and soon enough you were giggling with him. He kept you company outside and kept you laughing until there were no more sniffles coming from you. Eventually, Fred came to collect you both. He led you upstairs to his and George’s room, but George stayed in the living room with the rest of the family. You could hear Molly grumbling to herself in the kitchen as you passed the door, but everyone else seemed to be far more cheerful gathered by the fire. 
You felt your heart jump to your throat when Fred closed the door behind him. You stood in the middle of room, trying to not feel awkward.
“Is this where you break up with me for accidentally insulting your mum?” you asked softly, looking at the ground. You knew George said he wouldn’t but the idea lingered in your mind.
“What are you talking about?” Fred breathed as he quickly moved to you and wrapped his arms around you tighter than George had. 
You couldn’t help it. You started crying again.
“Y/N, no. Not unless…” He pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Unless you want to?” There was so much hesitation and uncertainty in his voice. It broke your heart to hear him like that.
“No, I don’t want to. But your mum-”
“My mum still doesn’t know you meant it as a compliment.”
You rested your forehead on his shoulder. You took a deep breath to breathe in his scent. 
“She just needs to be ‘round you more, get to know you. Then she’ll love you like I do.”
Your eyes went wide against his shoulder. ‘Love you like I do.’ Had Fred just indirectly said he loved you? 
The way Fred stopped talking and stood more frigidly told you that he realized what he said after the words left his mouth. He was waiting for you to give him some kind of reaction. Was it too soon? 
After a moment, you lifted your head and you kissed him. You felt him relax underneath you. Of all your kisses, this was one of the most mild ones yet it was charged with so much emotion.
“I love you too,” you whispered as you broke the kiss.
He smiled at you before kissing you again. 
“You know, I was actually so nervous to bring you here.”
“Yeah? Why?”
“Well, because it is a bit peculiar,” he teased. “No, really, I don’t talk about it much but we’re not… rolling in galleons per se. We make do. We get by. It’s just-”
“I don’t care about that, Fred,” you said, cutting him off before gently kissing his cheek. “It’s your home and your family and it’s all amazing. I’d rather be in a home filled with love and laughter than anything else.” 
“Once Mum comes to her senses, you won’t know what to do with all the love she can give,” Fred warned. 
“I can’t wait for that.”
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Because I'm a petty bitch who hold grudges, I really see Molly not coming around until like Bill & Fleur's wedding or beyond, and Reader knows this so she just doesn't really visit the Burrow as much and Ginny is v upset that Reader isn't staying at the Burrow for the wedding and Reader is just like 'I'm not going to impose where I know I'm not wanted.'
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goldengirliez · 9 months ago
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TIPSY MIKEY. We all stan a cute, tipsy Mikey.
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09:53 pm
Nighttime is the most amazing part of the day. You can give yourself the attention you deserve, taking care of yourself, watching your favourite show, preparing a nourishing meal... All of this after the frenzy of the day, the heat of the city, the infinite traffic jams, and the overwhelmingness of your daily job.
Once you get your favourite shirt covering you up, you can't help but sigh contently, letting the perfume of the clothing fill your nostrils, the softness of the cotton fabric gently caressing your skin and the white colour of the tissue soothes your tired eyes.
His shirts are always your anchor after a long day when you haven't been able to meet. After a whole week you and your boyfriend, Mikey, haven't been able to meet because of his busy schedule due to an upcoming race and you being buried deep down the pit of work and hectic everyday life.
Just when you're about to get into the covers and call it a day, some motherfucker dares to ring the bell of your apartment, knocking at your door mercilessly. It's almost 10 pm, who could it possibly be?!
Stomping your feet towards the door of your apartment, you rub your eyes in a pissed manner, the lotion you put on your face earlier slightly oiling the tip of your fingers. When you open the door with a frustrated sigh, your eyes go from annoyed to surprised in less than two seconds. You surely didn't expect to find Draken, Mikey's best friend since the old days and a member of his racing team, looking at you apologetically while holding your boyfriend on his back, piggyback style.
You don't question him, despite wanting to do so, and let the beefy man in. He drops Mikey on your couch and he yelps, whining a slurred and slightly annoyed "Ken-chinnnnn".
You and Draken share a look that says it all: he was drunk, dead-drunk, cockeyed.
"A week is left before the big day, everyone wanted to meet up before having to go all in until the race day" Drake sighs and scratches the back of his head.
You have never seen him so shy, he must be quite tipsy too but you decide not to point that out, showing mercy for his virility.
"I'm sorry about this- he kept on blabbering about how much he missed you so I thought this was the best thing to do".
Of course, it is. Mikey's addicted to you. He loves you so much and every time he can't meet you even for a short period, not being able to hold you close and pepper your face in kisses, he loses it and does stupid things like... Getting drunk with his friends.
You can feel a sudden weight on your shoulder, strong arms wrapping around your waist like a snake and a stinging smell of mixed alcohol make its way through your senses.
Mikey's cheek is squished against your shoulder and he looks at you with big, doe onyx orbs and sweet, plump pouty lips.
His obsidian hair is a bit messy, and his cheek is slightly rosy due to his tipsiness.
You could devour him. He looks so adorable.
"Babyyy, is this really you? Fuck– I've missed you so much" winey voice and teary eyes. He always acts like a child whenever he's drunk and that never fails to put your heart in danger because of cuteness overload.
"You did great Draken, I'll take care of him, thank you for bringing him here" you smile at your boyfriend's best mate and motion him to go before Mikey throws off a tantrum on how much he had missed you and how you should have answered to his messages more often.
Just when he gets out you sigh and look at your boyfriend who's snuggling against you (probably because he's not even capable of standing still by himself), caressing your warm skin with the tip of his nose.
“Why haven't you answered any of my calls today, baby?”
It is surprising how his voice rings in your years, shaking your very core: his slurred and childish words from before have been completely replaced by a deep, low and shy whisper. He sounds pained.
You can feel the warmth of his muscles flex on your abdomen as he brings you closer to him until your back is touching his toned chest. His heart is thrumming against his ribcage, you can feel it.
“Can't focus on anything without hearing from you for so long… I get worried too, ya know?”
Your Manjiro has always been this way, whenever he got tipsy, he would always become more clingy, whinier and vulnerable.
Despite this, his charm is undeniable and you can't help but pend from his lips when his words flow effortlessly like the smoothest cream. Listening to him and absorbing his body heat is like indulging in the sweetest thing you might ever taste.
He doesn't do it on purpose, such antics become natural when he's with you: your magnecticity touches every cell of his body and makes it act on its own, getting on the right frequency just because you are there.
You're everything he needs and all he has always had.
You can't blame him for behaving like this, like the lovestruck man he is.
“I’m so sorry, ‘jiro, I've been busy… but I'll make it up to you, okay?”
His body weight leans more towards you as he mutters a slurred ‘you better'. Despite wanting to sound pissed, the smile on his face is clear as day even if his face is hidden in the curve on your neck. His satisfied tone betrays him: maybe wearing one of his shirts was a start to make up for the lost time already.
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As your hand smoothes over his liquorice locks you can feel a damp, hot sensation on your neck: his hot breath reaches your skin as he kisses it in both relief and contentment, exciting your nostrils with a pungent hint of alcohol.
Once your hands make contact with his back in a fluid, circular motion, you can feel Mikey's muscles tense and melt in your hold in less than a few seconds: you prepared him a warm bath to help him ease up his paranoia about “you avoiding him” and wash off that nauseous smell of liquor that was making you sick.
The water ripples underneath his body, circular little waves expand and dissolve among the warm water whenever he moves.
Letting the fragrance of the oils and the body wash hug his senses, filling his thoughts with your gentle hand scratching his scalp deliciously with the tip of your fingers and your idyllic voice that echoes through the bathroom walls he feels at peace.
He breathes in deeply every time, his toned chest rises and falls at a slow pace and the droplets of water kiss every inch of the skin for you, sliding down his muscles deliciously.
With his eyes gently closed and his silky, obsidian hair sticking to his forehead slightly, he looks like a greek god, just for you to be blessed with.
You can't help but sigh happily as his consciousness clears up with every passing minute: he starts to make more coherent sentences, talking to you about his week and complaining about his team that put his life in such a hectic frenzy for the upcoming race that he hardly had time to check up on you.
“The only way I thought I could see you was by taking advantage of this dinner: I mean, no one wants to deal with a drunk, complaining pain the ass before the race, yeah? They had to let me come here, I'm a genius!”
You love him for that.
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The soft thuds that jog up the stairs are unmistakable: as Mikey reaches your room and opens the door, you are already waiting for him in the bed, keeping the sheets warm for him, and making a comforting nest for his arrival.
He insisted that you wait for him upstairs as he brushed his teeth and dressed up, claiming that he wasn't that tipsy to be looked out for like the big baby he is.
Let's give him credit for that, he was right.
His face seems to be sparking under the warm light of your abatjour, the freshness of his body reaches your nose more and more as he walks closer to the bed, inching towards your face so you can breathe in and taste the minty scent of his mouth onto yours with a sloppy kiss.
When your hand guides its way on his collarbone, tickling his damp skin with your palm, he wastes no time hovering over your frame completely and crushing his weight on top of you, making the soft mattress sink lower underneath your bodies.
Even if Mikey has always had a quite smaller frame compared to other guys, he never fails to knock the breath off your lungs when he catches you by surprise. He might have a thing for that small puff of air that leaves your chest unexpectedly, making you yelp in such a delightful tone… but he would never admit that out loud. Where would the fun be otherwise?
Snuggling against your body, you can feel the tip of his nose playfully rub against your cheek as he kisses your jaw with a small movement of his mouth, the softest flower petals caressing your tender skin graciously.
Useless to say that you'll sleep in that position for the whole night and you have no room to argue, not when your man starts to mindlessly mumble sweet nonsense under his breath and ask questions about your week until late that night.
Mikey's head is still a bit fuzzy, his senses don't connect down on earth fully due to the fragmentary memories of the embarrassing, confused events that happened that night tormenting his subconscious, but he doesn't care: as long as your voice lulls him to sleep, all his repressed pre-race anxieties melt away; every fear of having missed out on a big event of your life that week dissolves into thin air; every inch of the emptiness that your absence brought fills up gradually, leaving him giddy inside.
He doesn't deny it, Manjiro admits that he can be whiney, childish and reckless (idiotic actually): getting drunk and causing a scene at the restaurant, screaming at the waiter because he didn't receive a flag on his entrecôte and spilling the carafe of wine on the white table cloth in front of the team before falling from the chair wasn’t the best idea to get him to your house, especially since he's an emergent public figure in the motorcycle racing industry.
But, honestly, that's all worth it if he gets to spend time with you once again, babying him the way he deserves.
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English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes!
This has been in my drafts for way too long, so I decided to finish it– I'm not that proud of the outcome but I hope it brought a smile on your face regardless!
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Sending y'all hugs. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
©GOLDENGIRLIEZ do not repost or modify on any platform.
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rainydayathogwarts · 9 months ago
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Curtain call - Spencer Reid
Summary: You're an actress. Opening night of the show, a cast member is killed. FBI finds out you were the real target... Warnings: mentions of blood, a kiss 2k wc
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Adrenaline rushes through you as you run through the wings, catching your breath as you made your way across the backstage. You had just about a minute until you had to be on stage once more, the big number now coming to its end. Rushing into the costume room, you barely acknowledge the one thing obviously wrong with the messy space until you reach for your next costume on the rack, moving all other clothes aside to find it. There’s something inappropriate about your outfit. One, there isn’t supposed to be any blood on it yet there it is, a bloody handprint, running all the way to the bottom of your dress. That’s when your eyes trail down to the bottom of the clothing rack, where you get a clear look of the body lying underneath the row of clothes. Blood was soaking through her entire costume and her skin was turning blue. It’s only when someone runs into the changing room at risk of missing your cue that you hear a gut-wrenching scream. Later, you’d be told that it had come from you. 
Being called into the theatre the next day for “mandatory debriefing” was not what you had expected after such a traumatic experience, but you came in nonetheless, afraid of losing the job after the scene you had caused the night before. After screaming bloody-murder, half the cast ran into the changing rooms to find you hysterically crying over your cast mate’s body, holding her cold hand. The audience had been scared half to death, and after the authorities made it onto the scene, everyone was evacuated out of the theatre. By finding her body, you had cost everyone a night of the show. 
But once you got to the theatre, angry yellow tape cutting off access to the public, you were approached by a handsome man with a serious face and confident posture, offering you his hand even as he walked towards you. “Miss L/N? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Agent Morgan with the FBI, and this is Dr. Reid. We just have a few questions we would like you to answer for us.” Agent Morgan had been a very kind man, who told you every formality that was written in the book, however the man he had introduced to you as Dr. Reid caught your attention in a way you weren’t aware would be good or bad. Dr. Reid stayed silent as Agent Morgan questioned you, deeply staring at you as you answered all that was thrown at you, shooting you quizzical looks every now and then and glancing down at your fidgety hands. 
“Thank you so much for all this Miss L/N, that’s all our questions.” As Agent Morgan began to stand, Dr. Reid looked up at you, “Actually, I do have a few more if you don’t mind.” Agent Morgan shot his partner a confused look, slowly backing down into his seat once more. “Do you know why Evelyn was in the costume room when she was? With my limited understanding of the play, I was under the impression that her character didn’t have any costume changes up to the point you had gotten to before she was killed.” And then those that followed:
“Was anyone other than you supposed to be in the changing rooms at that moment?”
“Is there anyone in the cast who has taken a specific liking or dislike towards you?” 
“Can you remember any specific encounters with anyone as you were going in or out of the theatre?”
“Have you received any eye catching letters from fans recently?” 
Finally, Dr. Reid’s prying had gotten you somewhere, leaving you more terrified than ever, with Agent Morgan reassuring you “It’s just a theory that Dr. Reid has, so we’re only taking precaution. There’s nothing to worry about just yet.” The two agents drove you back to your place where you led them to the cursed fan-letter drawer in your study. "I don't usually read them because there are so many." You admitted, crossing your arms tightly over your torso, observing as the doctor starting frantically pulling letters out of the tidied drawer, eyes briefly scanning the name on the front of each envelope. He threw several to the side, dropping the rest onto the floor after reading the name until nearly ten minutes later, all the letters laid on the floor.
Dr. Reid scrambled to gather the letters he had tossed to the side, standing up hurriedly. You stared at the pile in his hands, glancing back up at the two men for an explanation. "These are all sent from the same person. I'd like to read them and see if I can analyse the language used. I think one of us should stay here with you for the mean time." You nodded at Dr. Reid's words, briefly looking over to his partner for confirmation. "I think Reid should stay here as he looks over the letters." He moved his attention from you to Dr. Reid "You can ask her any questions you might have and it'll be good protection." The partners nodded to each other and almost instantly, Agent Morgan exited the room.
Dr. Reid's hand came up before hesitantly placing it on your shoulder. "Do you mind if I get settled here? Ask some questions?" You shook your head silently before asking "Um, since you'll be here awhile, can I get you something? Coffee?" Dr. Reid nodded, muttering a quiet "That would be lovely." You don't know what it was: maybe the fact that he was here to protect to or trying to save your life, but felt your heart beat in your chest aggressively, as though trying to break through your skin. You brought him coffee, sugar and packets of cream on the side just in case and watched in awe as he emptied out the small cup of sugar. Sweet, just like him.
"Dr. Reid-" "Spencer. Please." You nodded, scooting your chair closer to him as he took a sip of coffee. "Did I make a mistake by not reading these?" The envelopes made loud unfolding noises every time he pulled a letter out of a different one, and he shook his head. "No. I know I wouldn't open so many of these and I have an IQ of 187." You grinned, your chest bubbling with a giggle. Spencer perked up at the sound of your laughter, smiling gently at you. He wasn't trying to joke around, but he was happy to uplift your mood. He studied all the letters laid out in front of him, and immediately noticed a pattern.
'02.02.18, I saw you in Oliver! today, you make an amazing Nancy.'
'14.02.18, I watched you in Oliver! again. You somehow get better the more I see you on stage.'
'07.03.18 I loved you today in the show. I watched the evening show. Did you see me too?'
'17.03.18 I saw your show again. I can be your Bill Sykes if you'd let me."
'11.04.18 I've been waiting anxiously to see you again since Oliver stopped touring. You make a wonderful Veronica.'
'15.04.18 We can be Seventeen together! Let me be your JD.'
"This isn't good." Without any further explanation, he pulled his phone out, dialling a number. "He's using obsessive language and saw her in Oliver! and Heathers, both of which have abusive partners who either kill or try to kill who Y/N's playing. You need to go visit his address right now." Coincidentally, just as he hangs up the phone, your doorbell rings. Your blood runs cold and you stand up instantly, but Spencer steps in front of you, blocking you from going anywhere. "Stay behind me, but stay close." He mutters, pulling his gun from his hostler. Spencer watches you closely, and the profiler in him notices how your breath begins to speed up and your eyes glaze with tears.
One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and he whispers "Breathe. I'm right here so no one's going to hurt you, okay?" You nod, staying as close as you can to him without touching him until you get to the front door. He peeks through the peephole and his shoulders drop as an "Oh." Escapes him. He opens and closes the door faster than you can register, now holding another letter in his hand, identical to all the ones scattered on your desk.
Six words are written on the letter when Spencer opens him, and his face pales. It was meant to be you. Spencer grabs your hand, dragging you back into your study - the one room in your house with no windows. He locks the door, pressing numbers on his phone again before it's against his ear. "It's definitely him, he just sent another letter. We're in her study but he might be around the premises or returning to his house. I don't plan on getting her out of the study until you get him." The second the words leave his mouth you're processing them, and tears are welling in your eyes once more.
The sound of sniffling gets his attention back to you and his hands are gently coming up to your shoulders, leading you to sit down in a chair. "I'm scared." You whisper helplessly, looking up at the doctor. He crouches down to your level, and hand on your knee. "Hey, what did I say before?" He looks at you intently waiting for an answer. "No one's gonna hurt me." Spencer nods, a soft smile gracing his features. "Yes, exactly. No one's going to hurt you. I have an excellent team looking for that son of a bitch as we speak and I am right here with you."
You nod, not entirely convinced, which he can apparently tell, so he continues with "Come on, look at these muscles. You think anyone will get to you when I have these babies?" His tongue pokes out slightly as he flexes his arms, which are actually more toned than you realise. You laugh again and feel yourself launching your body at him before you can stop yourself, pulling him into a tight hug. He hesitates, but eventually, his arms are pulling you even closer to him, one hand rubbing circles on your back to soothe you. You break the hug, but before you can help yourself, you realise you're leaning into him, pressing your lips against his in a passionate kiss. To your surprise he immediately returns the kiss, his hands cupping your face as he deepens the kiss.
He's panting when he pulls away from you, whispering "This is unprofessional. I'm sorry, I like you, I do, but I shouldn't." Cocking your head to the side, you can't help but smile slightly. "It's only unprofessional for one of us so technically it's not unprofessional at all." His face twists in confusion as he tries processing your words. "That's not how it wo-mmph." the rest of his words are muffled by the second kiss you give him, which you feel him melting into as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. "After- after the case. After the case, I'll take you on a date." His face falls at his own words, his face reddening in embarrassment. "That is- I mean that's only if you want. I wouldn't take you on a date if you didn't want to, that's totally fine."
The door to the study slams open just as he finishes rambling and you scream in fear, tightly gripping Spencer's hand and turning around expecting to find a middle aged balding creep, only to find a much sexier bald man, putting his gun back in his hostler. "Did you not hear us screaming for you? We thought he might have gotten to you before we found him. Ms. L/N, you're safe, we found him." Agent Morgan's gaze slowly trails to where your hand tightly grips Spencer's, and when he sees the flush on Spencer's face he makes a "Huh" noise, before walking out of the room once more.
taglist: @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist
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fortheloveoffanfic · 6 months ago
Text
Broken Chords
Hozier x fem!reader
Author's note: this got out of hand and became something it wasn't supposed to be. Maybe there will be more? Idk maybe if everyone doesn't hate it
Author's note #2: (Just to add a shameless plug to this note; for my other Hozier works, check out my AO3)
Summary: It's been years since their break-up, and still, Y/n and Andrew just can't seem to let go of each other.
Warnings: SMUT/NSFW, Angst
Andrew would like to think he knows himself pretty fucking well. He knows what he likes, what he doesn’t. He knows when something’s bad for him. Tequila, ice cream after dark……her.
She is bad for him.
So why can’t he ever seem to remember that when it matters most? When he's home alone after spending months surrounded by people. When he’s out drinking with his mates, he smells a familiar perfume. When they’re both at the same wedding, he starts thinking “maybe if things were different….”
She always looks so good in green, especially darker tones so its no wonder that's the colour she’s chosen this evening. Andrew knows that dress too, she bought it for a charity event they attended together a couple years ago. He distinctly remembers seeing her in it for the first time, the way he drew in a sharp breath, the way the silky fabric felt under his palm when she asked him to zip it up – the thrill he got when it pooled at her feet after he'd peeled it off her.
Y/n must feel his eyes lingering on her from across the room, because after a handful of seconds she turns and their gazes meet. He knows that’s his cue to look away and do a terrible job of pretending that he hasn’t noticed her, but he doesn't because she’s something of a siren and he loses all sense when they’re in the same room.
Taking a sip of his whiskey, he swallows harshly, holding her gaze over the rim of his glass. She's absently running a manicured finger around the top of hers, and he remembers that its something she does unconsciously. He wants to smile, or wave, or do something that constitutes more than just standing there like an idiot, but he can’t. He can’t do anything but think about what it would be like if they’d gone there together.
She’d ask him to dance and he’d say no at first but cave no more than a minute later because even if he has two left feet, he loves how it feels when she rests her head on his chest. He’d watch his friends get married and think about all the times his mother suggested making Y/n his wife – but not say a word of it to either of them because he doesn't think he’s ready to take that step. They’d go home together, and Andrew would carry her inside, because she took off her heels in the car and the gravel on the driveway makes her feet hurt.
Upstairs, in their bedroom, Y/n would push off his coat and comment on how she likes seeing him dressed up like that, and then he would inch that green dress off her shoulders and it would stay on the floor, next to his suit coat, until late the next morning.
But he’s not there with her. Though, Y/n is approaching him now so he thinks maybe the night is gonna end like that anyway. Because there isn’t a universe made by any God in which he doesn’t find himself tangled up in her. Even if he knows how it ends, even if he knows that she isn’t right for him, even if they’ve broken each other’s hearts half a dozen times by now, he goes back.
“Hey.” She begins simply, with a smile that can't be anything more than polite, “How’ve you been?”
Alive, thinking about you more than I probably should, he wants to say.
“Hey. Ehm, I’ve been alright,” he shrugs, “Just um, workin’.”
“Right, of course. Working.” Working, why is that all that he’s said, surely he could’ve offered a bit more.
“You?” He asks.
Y/n takes a slow sip of her champagne, nodding as she does. “Good, I've been good. Just you know….working.”
“Workin’,” he repeats with a nod that mirrors her own. Its funny how they used to have so much to say to each other. He’s never been a man of many words, and Y/n isn’t exactly the chatty type, but they used to be able to talk for hours without more than a couple minutes of silence. The most mundane thoughts would spark hour long conversations, pillow talk would span well into the am and morning coffee chitchat would keep them at the kitchen table until lunch. There used to be a time where it seemed like his every thought was shared with her, and Y/n did the same.
They lapse into silence for a moment, and when the music changes to something slower and the dj starts encouraging guests to cozy up to their dates, Y/n sets her half empty glass down on the bar just past him. “Do you wanna dance? Just one song, I promise,” she smiles, and that time its beautifully hopeful.
Andrew chuckles hesitantly, “I haven’t gotten any better at it.” In one swing, he finishes off his drink and rests his glass next to hers before offering his hand. Hers is just as small, and just as soft as he remembers
They find a vacant spot amongst the other guests in the area designated for dancing. Instinctively – almost as if the last time they stood together like that was yesterday – Andrew slips his arm around her waist, splaying his hand on the small of her back. The fingers of his other hand are laced with hers, settled near her shoulder as they ease into a slow sway.
“You cut your hair,” Y/n marvels softly upon pulling her head back a little.
“Just took a couple inches off,” he confirms in the same hushed tone.
“It looks good,” Y/n says, and he feels his heart skip a little. Compliments from her always mean more than they would from anyone else, even if its about the same haircut he's been getting since he was twenty-two. “Better than the pictures make it seem,” she adds in a whisper.
Andrew swallows thickly; she’s been keeping up with him, even if they haven’t spoken in months. The thought is strangely comforting because God knows he’s been doing the same. “I heard that you’re seeing someone.” And by heard, he means read.
“I’m not,” Y/n shakes her shoulders slightly. “I mean…I was, but I’m not anymore.”
He knits his brows, hoping to hide his relief, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It wasn’t serious,” Y/n licks her lips, “Are you?”
“Am I serious?”
She chuckles softly, the sound airy and musical. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“Oh!” He scoffs. What the hell is he thinking? “No,” he shakes his head, “ehm, I've been on a couple dates,” set up by friends who are hoping to help him move on, “but they didn’t work out.”
Her next question stuns him; “why?”
The song changes, but neither of them make a move to pull away. Thinking on her question, Andrew fumbles with his words. Certainly he can’t tell her that its because he compares every woman to her and none of them ever come close. So he decides to go with a poorly strung together lie. “Just….. incompatible, I guess.” When Y/n offers nothing more than a hum in response, he tentatively probes, “why didn’t it work out with you and your….?”
“Because….” Y/n pauses, searching his eyes before opting against whatever she was going to say, “it doesn’t matter.” Casting her gaze to their lazy feet, she leans her had against his chest – finally – and the sigh that tumbles off his lips is one of relief. He doesn’t think there’s any lyric he could piece together, or any word of any language, that could properly describe just how much he’s missed that. The lack of even a thread of distance between them, the way his heart ticks a little differently when her ear is over it, the smell of her shampoo when he bends to look at her while he’s nestled against him.
He doesn’t pressure her for a response, he isn’t sure if he even wants to know anything that will ruin the pleasure of having her with him. “I’m staying upstairs. 27,” Y/n says, just as the second song ends and the maid of honor announces that its time for the bouquet toss.
“Yeah?” Andrew licks his lips, “I think I might just go home after,” he adds, trying to gauge her reaction, but she's always had a good poker face.
Though, her expression falters just a little, so quickly that its almost unnoticeable, “right. Of course. My flight’s pretty early tomorrow anyway.”
His jaw tightens a littles, but he nods and smiles, “right.” He wants to be as good as she is at playing it cool and unaffected. He wants to just be able to pack up and leave their relationship behind like it was nothing, but just standing there in front of her is taking more out of him than it should, chipping away at his resolve and undermining his self-respect. “You’re leaving tomorrow,” he swallows thickly, going against the voice in his head that practically begged him to not say that.
“Mhm,” Y/n hums, “maybe next time?”
Andrew clears his throat, “Yeah, maybe.”
Y/n doesn’t say anything for a moment, instead tilting her head a bit to the left and narrowing her eyes just a little, as if she’s just seeing him. He’s about to ask what she’s thinking when most of the guests start gathering at the front of the room, getting ready to catch the bouquet. “I should go,” she declares.
Slipping hands into his pockets, Andrew offers the chaos behind him a quick, casual backwards glance, “Don’t wanna try to catch the bouquet?” He manages a barely there, lopsided smile.
And Y/n doesn’t return it; for the first time since their end, Andrew truly sees how he’s hurt her. Y/n furrows her brows, and stares at him as if he’s just asked her something completely outlandish. “No,” she shakes her head. Taking a step forward, she arches up on her toes – because even in four inch heels its hard to reach his face – and kisses him so close to the corner of his mouth that it would only take the slightest shift on his part for their lips to meet. “I’ll see you around Andy.”
He’s too stunned to react, and by the time Andrew has mustered up a reply, Y/n is already near the double doors that lead out of the small hotel’s dining hall and his fingers are lingering on the stop that she kissed.
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An hour and a half ater
Threading his long finger through his wind mused hair, Andrew fixes his gaze on the gold plated numbers mounted above the off-white door.
22.
He’s back at the hotel after having left the reception shortly after Y/n did. He doesn’t even know who caught the damn flowers; he was too focused on trying to convince himself to not go after her.
Despite that, he’d made it to his car and then all the way home. Opened the front door, turned on the lights, walked to his refrigerator and got himself a beer. And then he closed the door and one of the pictures they took after he’d played a show in London was just there, stuck to the door with a little magnet shaped like the Big Ben. With the cap covered by the edge of his jacket, he twisted it open and took a swing of the beer, the bitterness of the hops not making him wince near as much as the grayscale memory taken by a phone with a number that he tries his best to not call.
He’d made it all the way to his car….and then a night where Andrew had sworn he could hear her voice above every other in the crowd and her lips were more intoxicating that any whiskey could ever be, came back to him and now he’s at the hotel again.
But hey, he lasted an hour and a half, so that's something.
Well, technically it was fifty-five minutes. But he's not interested in technicalities.
As he stands in front of the door, thumb flicking the corner of the polaroid, he finds himself half wondering why she’s never the one that comes crawling back. He knows the answer, mostly; Y/n has always had more resolve than him, she's good at guarding herself.
She’s even better at knowing her worth.
But him? He’s as close as anything gets to a walking definition of insanity; Andrew thinks he'll go back a thousand times if she’ll have him.
He’s pretty damn good at being on his own until he catches a glimpse of her face.
Shaking off his thoughts, he finally approaches the door and gives it three, brief knocks before slumping against the outer part of the frame. Y/n doesn’t answer immediately, and there's a little part of him – that’s blue and cold and nursing the pain of a wound that runs too deep to heal – that hopes she doesn’t open up. But his luck is as good as nil.
Her eyes are as sullen as his and much redder when Y/n pulls the door open. The green dress is gone, replaced with a pair of shorts and a sweater that resided in his closet long before he even met her – he’s been wondering where it went. Andrew is only a little disappointed that he didn’t get to peel that dress off her himself, he’s more concerned with the glassiness of her eyes and the way Y/n sniffles when she sees him.
“You okay?” He peers gently, thumb courting the dull edge of the picture.
“I thought you went home?” Y/n squints her eyes a little, “I saw you leave,” from the window she'd sat at upon returning to her room. She'd held her breath as he walked to his car, leaned closer when he pulled out of the spot and finally, fell apart as she watched the taillights disappear in the distance.
Andrew shrugs, still leaning on the frame. She's close enough to have to tip her chin to meet his gaze, but neither of them take the initiative to step backwards. “I came back,” he explains simply, slipping the photograph into the pocket of his slacks.
“Why?” Its a loaded question, he thinks. Why did he go back? Why does he keep going back, when he knows forgetting is the hardest part? Why does he do that to himself?
Why does he do it to her? Its the first time he’s ever asked himself that one. Maybe its because tonight, she’d been crying.
Reaching out to brush away a stray tear from under her eye, Andrew shrugs. He swears, when he curves his palm against her cheek, Y/n leans into his touch. Her fingers close in around his wrist loosely, and she stroke the side of it with her thumb.
“Can I come in?”
He’s telling himself that if she says 'no', he’ll just turn around and leave. Accept that its officially over and finally move in.
But he won't. He can think it all he wants but he won't. He'll grovel if he has to. Tell her he needs her -because it's true. He'll lie and say it's the last time if he thinks it's what they both need to hear.
“Sure,” Y/n manages, voice soft without moving back.
Lowering his face, Andrew presses his lips to hers, gently urging her into the suite. The lights are on, but he doesn’t pay much mind to anything around him. Instead, he slips his arm around to the small of her back as their kiss grows more impassioned. When she almost trips over a haphazardly discarded heel, he tugs her closer to his chest, before finally succumbing to lifting Y/n off the carpeted floor. Her legs go around his hips immediately and when they break for a moment, she holds his face close to hers.
“We can’t keep doing this,” he rasps, “you need to stop.”
“I can’t let you go,” Y/n counters, voice small and sad, “I can’t just let you disappear from my life just like that.”
Then why won’t you just be with me? He wants to ask, but the idea is gone the minute she kisses him again, and all he can think about is being with her right there, in that moment. Fuck the rest of the world or all the ways she’s broken his heart.
He barely has time to undo the button and zipper of his pants after setting her down on the bed, because her hands are reaching for him the minute her back hits the mattress. Unceremoniously, she pushes off his suit jacket before clumsily getting to the buttons of his white shirt. “I love when you’re dressed like this,” she manages, breath hot on his skin as the plastic buttons fall victim to her eagerness.
“I’ve been thinking about you all night,” he presses his lips to the side of her face, inhaling deeply before kissing his way down her jaw. His hands slip under the sweater after she pushes the shirt off his shoulders, and her skin is warm and smooth. With hurried ease, he peels the sweater off and casts it off to the side before lowering his mouth to the valley between her unclad breasts.
Y/n’s fingers slide up his back, settling on his shoulder blades as Andrew litters the swell of her breasts with small, purplish bruises. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he mumbles against her skin while gripping her hips and urging them off the bed so he can push her shorts down. “You're always on my fucking mind,” he mummers, nibbling on her skin.
Her nails graze his scalp, lithe fingers tangling in his curls, inciting a sensation that only she can rouse with a gesture so small. Gooseflesh along his skin, electricity up his back and a shake in his breath. With her toes, she shoves his pants and boxers down, and they get tangled up in the messy sheets. Her hips arch towards his, and reaching between them, he guides himself to her entrance. “Fuck,” he heaves upon feeling her wrapped around him.
Connecting his forehead with hers, so the tips of their noses touch and he can taste the lingering remnants of wine on her breath, Andrew stirs his lips in a leisurely pace.
“Andrew,” her voice breaks and a thread of moisture trickles from the corner of her eye.
Halting his movements, Andrew regards her with a mixture of concern and longing. “What?” He moves his hand from the pillow beside her head to cup the side of her face, “Did I hurt you?”
Y/n holds his face, thumbs making loose, circular patterns at the apple of his cheeks. “No,” she lies. “No,” Y/n sniffles again, “keep moving…..please.”
Burying his face in the side of her head, soaking up the aroma of her coconut shampoo. Y/n nuzzles the side of his face and he can hear her erratic breathing matching the thump of her heart. She’s clinging to him for dear life, and the only thing keeping his weight from smothering her is his hand buried in the pillow next to her head, while he tangles the fingers on the other in her hair. Andrew is eager to keep her close, just in case its the last time she lets him near – or by some miracle, he finds it in himself to let her go.
He treats every time like the last time, because in his head, it is.
“Andrew,” she eventually heaves again, and he feels her legs tighten around his hips as she tries to buck her pelvis towards his. Her fingers curl and he can feel her crescent shaped nails digging into his skin again.
“I wanna see you,” he coaxes, “look at me,” he pleads when Y/n buries her face in the crook of his neck, “I need to see you.” When she pulls away to meet his darkened gaze, Y/n slides her hand from his back to brush some hair from his face before settling her palm on his cheek. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart…..so fucking perfect,” he rasps, lowering his face to hers.
As her back arches, Y/n’s toes curl and she feels the knot in her stomach tighten. The friction Andrew stirs with his desperate, quickening pace coupled with the way he reaches something inside her that no one else ever has ushers her to the cusp of exhilaration. It doesn’t matter who she’s been with before – or after him – no one will ever compare; there isn't a person in the world that can make her feel what she feels when he runs his calloused fingers along her sides, or anything that’s even remotely as pleasurable as the heat of his mouth on her neck while his beard bruises her skin. Every time they’ve been together, she’s worn the mark of him, the ache of his memory, for days and Y/n doesn’t think there’s a version of her that can live without it.
His name tumbles off her lips again, that time with the insistence that she’s close. The pressure mounting in her center broils over in a flurry of panted breaths and garbled obsenties. “Andy….fuck, Andy,” Y/n is putty in his hands, moulding to his whim as he rides out her climax.
“Fuck,” Andrew groans when he feels her clenching around him. Her legs locked around his lips, the way she pulsates around him and his own, impending high makes the controlled jerk of his hips falter. He’s caught between wanting it to last longer and being shamelessly desperate for release.
Reaching for her thigh in a bruising grip, Andrew holds her in place as he finally reaches blinding gratification. “Y/n….Jesus sweetheart,” he groans, struggling to maintain the roll of his hips. His fingers hold a fistful of the sheets in a white knuckled grip and Andrew presses his forehead to hers for a second before angling his head to catch her lips in a sloppy kiss. Her teeth drag along his lower lip, exciting a sound that stays trapped in his throat.
Andrew rolls onto his back as their heavy breathing slows. Y/n is nestled against his chest and his arm immediately goes around her while he uses his free hand to pull the sheets over them. Neither of them speak for a while, but he knows she’s awake because he can feel her finger trace lazy patterns on his chest while he stares up at the ceiling. The fan mounted above them is spinning so quickly that he can barely make out the individual blades, but it doesn’t do much to combat the lingering heat on their skin, expressed only in the shine of sticky moisture.
It takes a while before he can think straight again, and even then, Andrew wouldn’t credit himself with much sense, because his next words are thick with emotion and marred with an urgency that is sure to give away his desperation. “Don’t leave.”
“What?” Y/n can’t bring herself to look at him; she doesn’t think she can stand the desperation in his eyes, that way he looks at her when the dust settles and she remembers why they can’t be anything more than tangled limbs and messy sheets. Usually she’s good at pretending that she doesn’t see it, but its been a long night and right now, all she can think of is everything they could be when he says;
“Don’t go…..back. Don’t get on the plane tomorrow.” His fingers trail up and down her spine, their familiar roughness rousing a comfort she hasn’t felt since the last time they were wrapped up in each other.
Its unusual for her, but Y/n can’t bring herself to say ‘no.’ Its never been easy, but she’s always been able to push him away before he gets close enough to hurt her again. Always, expect for tonight, after the wedding that dredged up memories from the worst time in their relationship, after Andrew showed up at her door with only the best of them at his fingertips.
After he, for the first time in a damn long time, asks her to stay.
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piss-pumpkin · 10 months ago
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Bad dreams (Percy x reader)
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Child of Hypnos reader, ~4.5k words, set ambiguously after pjo, the request was enemies to lovers so I sincerely apologize. Masterlist
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Capture the flag. It was a game of epic highs and lows, winner and losers, all to decide who wore the crown. Until next week, that is. And nobody took it more seriously than Annabeth, determined to win and keep her indestructible reputation as the best strategist around. She was in the war room, taking this very seriously, and discussing with her right hand man before the team.
Percy groaned, dramatically dropping his head on the table, half pushing off the map. “Annabeth, why?” He complained, hand waving in the air to communicate the distain that she couldn’t see in his face. 
Annabeth sighed, taking her head in her hands. “I know you don’t like them,” she started calmly, crossing the floor to Percy to pat his back gently. “But the Hypnos cabin is an asset, between all of them, we can have half the enemy team asleep,” she said, ever pragmatic.
Percy was not a fan of her reasoning, as sound as it was. Unfortunately for him, the head counsellor of the Hypnos cabin was you. And You and Percy? He didn’t even want to think about. No idea why you decided not to like him upon meeting, even less of an idea how it’s escalated as far as it has. “Wise girl, have mercy,” he whined, standing up straight again. “Putting me in a room with them is a sure fire way to lose.”
Annabeth pursed her lips. “That might be true,” she started, circling the table, eyes the pieces she set dramatically to represent each of her forces. One or two Hypnos campers per squad to weaken the enemy. “But they’re essential to the plan, just… you’ll be in different areas, if all goes well.”
Percy grumbled. Things never went well. 
As the battle drew closer, the allied cabins assembled to hear the more polished version of Annebeths plan. And of course, that meant you at the table, front and centre, your forces being an essential part of the strategy. Great. You always listened to Annabeth, even though she was always sticking up for him. And she managed to get you on the same team, even when you knew that guy you hated would be there. 
You nodded along with the details, assigning siblings you thought best for each task. You seemed a lot nicer with them. 
You conferred with your cabin, and offered another plan to Annabeth. Percy wasn’t completing focused, because when you were done, he had no idea what you’d said. Annabeth seemed to be a fan though. She nodded along, and adjusted the prices on her map while you have people notes and alternate delegations.
An order to each cabin head. All except him. He glanced around at each counsellor telling their cabin mates what they should do, and he cringed. You’d instructed everyone else. “Uh,” he started looking to you because Annabeth was busy talking to the Apollo counsellor. “Does my job change at all?” 
You pursed your lips, smiling just slightly. “No, I guess I didn’t have anything for you,” you said slyly. “But isn’t jumping in without thinking kind of your whole thing? Just roll with that, yeah?” 
Percy’s face flattened as he sighed. He needed somebody else, “Annabeth?” He asked.
She turned to him, and thought for a moment. “They might have a point,” she said curiously, much to his detest. Percy grumbled as she continued. “Using you as a wild card might be beneficial, especially because you can take large groups of them at once.”
Great. No job, and more work, somehow. And you were smiling, a bit too satisfied with yourself and his annoyance. Why was it always like this? 
                                             …
There was one time when Percy was sparring with Clarisse, and they got a little too heated, and it ended up with Clarisse on Pegasus cleanup duty, and Percy teaching sword classes for a week. Definitely the lighter punishment, considering he liked the job. Chiron always went a little easy on him. But there were layers to this punishment. Primarily: you.
When Percy was approaching, he saw you, and sighed. You were there first, already talking to the younger campers, wide smile on your face and holding a weapon. Ugh. Of course he had the misfortune of fucking up the same time as you. Okay. This week was actually going to be terrible. 
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said, jogging up to you and the campers. You’d just finished some sort of introduction, it was the perfect time to slide in. The youngest kid looked maybe ten, and had a dagger in her hand. She was little small for the real swords. The kids were looking up at him, faces blank or curious, and you were side eyeing him, brow raised, completely unimpressed. Yeah, he should probably do something interesting.
“Yeah, you sure were,” you laughed sarcastically, sounding just nice enough for the kids not to pick up on your distain. 
Percy grimaced. Great start. With a deep breath, he did  his best to recover, running his hands through his hair nervously. “Well, I’m here now, so,” he said, looking at the younger campers. Grinning, and ignoring your cold stare, he uncapped Riptide, and a few kids gasped. “How about we get to the fun stuff?”
He spared you a glance, catching you roll your eyes at him. This was not going to be a good week. Quite possibly the worst punishment Chiron could’ve given him. 
It’s hard to teach as a team when you can’t get along  for a second. And all the kids noticed, and did their best to egg you on. Percy was fighting for his life harder than he had on several quests, until the very last minutes of the time slot. Thank the gods it was only like, an hour. Even if it was one of the longest hours of his life.
And he wasn’t even spared when it was over.
“Of course we fucked up on the same week” you sighed, picking up a carelessly discarded sword. “Let me guess, something boring…” you started, walking idly toward the weapons rack with a handful of blades. “Like what, blowing up the bathroom again? Or sneaking out of camp for a quest?”
Hmm. Low blow. Though not completely unwarranted. “No, much cooler than that,” Percy sighed, rolling his eyes as he kicked up some dust from the arena floor. “Beating up Clarisse.”
You scoffed, “somehow I doubt that.”
And you weren’t exactly wrong. It was more of a mutual beating up, in a sort of frenemy way, Percy was the first to admit. But not to you. “Hey, you should see her,” he chided. “There’s cold hard proof.”
You bumped his shoulder on the way out of the arena, sighing. “Maybe I will, I could get some tips on kicking your ass,” you said, raising your brow. 
By the time he thought of a good-ish response, you were too far away to hear, and he was kicking himself for letting you get the last word. He glanced around the empty arena dumbly. It looked like you finished the cleanup while he just stood there, another point you had on him now. The punishment may not have been a competition, but you seemed to be winning thus far. Shit. 
And it only gets worse from there. 
He managed to come early the second day, a full fifteen minutes to get warmed up, and think about what could be good to teach the newbies. And he had the arena all to himself to slash dummies in the exact way he’d instruct them to do later. 
“Clarisse told me Chiron intervening is all that saved you from getting sent to the infirmary,” you said.
Percy jumped, Riptide nearly falling out of his hand. When the fuck did you get here? He hadn’t heard you at all. Sneaky bitch. He turned to face you when he recovered from his shock, “yeah, well, she couldn’t admit she lost a fight if there was a gun to her head.”
You didn’t look sold. You raised your brow, “could you?”
He pursed his lips. He wanted to say something like, yes, duh! But quickly realized it might be a lie. To most people he could, but admitting defeat to you felt much worse. Like it would confirm all your doubts or apprehensions about him, or whatever your grudge was. He decided a little lie wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. “I could,” he said casually, slashing a combat dummies head. 
He didn’t see your face as you hummed lowly with disapproval. Probably for the better. 
Or so he thought, because as you were walking towards the dummy beside his, he started to feel drowsy. His slashes got slower as his arms felt heavier, like they were weighing him down. He looked at you, and immediately wanted to lie down and pass out. Ugh.  Your subtle smirk told him you knew exactly what you were doing. And it only escalated when the kids started to arrive. 
You started the lesson off assertively. While he was struggling to blink with his heavy eyelids. “If you have any cool demigod abilities, you should totally use them literally whenever you can,” you said, pointing your weapon enthusiastically at the campers. 
Percy couldn’t help but watch in slight awe as you engrossed them all. You narrowed in on a son of Apollo,  your blade staring him down as you told him he should get comfortable using healing abilities in a fight. You seemed to have a suggestion for everyone; the daughter of Hectate should use the mist, a Demeter kid should try and use vines, your Hypnos brother should use… sleep powers. Percy knew about those all too well. 
Percy had to admit he was jealous of the way they seemed excited about your ideas. Did they really like you more than him? It wasn’t that he felt bad not being liked, he was plenty used to that in all the schools he went to. It was more that it was you. The way you showed a nicer side to seemingly everyone but him. His body still felt like it was made of lead. 
You had some blind spots though. Not everyone had powers, Percy guessed, watching a couple Athena kids rolling their eyes or looking at the ground. “I hate to interject,” Percy started, stealing your and the kids attention again. “But this is weapons training, there are other classes for using abilities.” Plus, maybe you’d stop using yours if they got back on focus. 
”Hey, I’m teaching them how to fight better, isn’t that the goal?” You shot back. You seemed to catch the way his eyes were lingering on the kids without abilities. “Even if you don’t have any specific powers,” you said, turning back to the campers, “if we start using them, you’ll learn how to counter them, and kick our asses better.”
Percy sighed. You seemed pretty stuck on this. He tiredly uncapped Riptide, and pointed at it. “Weapons class, Y/n. Let’s focus on using weapons,” he said. 
You shifted your lips around, maybe chewing on them, and then seemed to have a thought. Unfortunately. You smiled at the kids, “yeah, well, Percy doesn’t always use his abilities to the fullest when he fights,” you said. “Maybe don’t take his lead too much.”
Ugh. “Well, it’s not always as easy as some people make it look,” he said, gesturing at you. “Not everyone has powers, and some people get drained easily by theirs. For me, I can’t always rely on there being water around me.”
You crossed your arms, raising your brow, and actually looked at him this time. “You know what people are made of, right?”
The kids were listening intently, some snickering and smirking to themselves. A couple seemed annoyed that the training was paused just so the teachers could bitch at each other. Percy sighed, “yeah, no, I don’t want to do that. I think that was an episode of Avatar: the last airbender.”
You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Well you might win more fights if you did,” you said snidely. Your eyes lowered a moment as you lowered your voice with a bitter tone, “I hate the idea of you going easy on me.” 
Before Percy could respond with a retort of his own, you’d dropped the mean act and completely focused on the kids, upbeat and happy. You clapped your hands together, and shot them a wide smile, “how about a demonstration, guys?” 
Aw shit. The kids lit up, nodding along as you continued. “How about me and Percy have a little match, and we see who wins, yeah?” You said, grinning at him. Ugh. It wasn’t a secret that people said he was the best swordsman at camp, but you were a head counsellor too. And even if he could stab you, he probably shouldn’t in front of the kids anyway. 
He had started to tune you out, but got snapped back to reality when he heard his name. “Percy, are you down?” You asked with faux sweetness. Ugh. Percy sucked a breath in through his teeth, and sighed. “Uh-Sure,” he said cautiously. 
You grinned, and the kids stepped back and whispered to each other. Yeah, they definitely picked up on your rivalry. They waited restlessly, probably excited to see the climax of your mutual dislike. Like the fight was inevitable. He uncapped Riptide with a sigh, and raised the blade as you shooed the kids to step further back. He took a fighting stance, raising his blade at the ready. Just great. Your aura of tiredness or whatever was affecting him seemed to get worse. Yeah, he might be fucked without water. 
You smirked, twirling a weapon of your own between your fingers and glancing at your audience happily, chest puffed out in self satisfaction. “Do you want to count us down?” you asked the kids, grinning. 
They nodded along, three, and Percy sighed, eying the water bottle he had off to the side. If he could get it then maybe... whatever. Maybe if he beat you, you’d lay off. Two. Or, if you won, you could get ten times worse. One. There was no good outcome. And it’s not like either of you could maim each other with the kids watching. 
Ugh. Still weighed down by an impossible spell of drowsiness, Percy started to lunge forward, sword ready to slash in an arc above his head. But then he looked at you. And you looked at him. And you were shooting him a finger gun, and Percy was out cold, without enough time to grumble or complain about it. Well shit. 
Like most times he slept, he was dreaming. Nightmares, specifically. At least he felt no godly presence, or anything sinister. Today, it was Annabeth and Grover dead on the floor, with Kronos in Luke’s body glaring at him from the sidelines. And then it was just Luke, looking at him sadly, approaching him, and then asking why he let his sister die. Percy didn’t have an answer. 
Nightmare Luke wasn’t a fan of that. Suddenly he was turning back into Kronos and raising Backbiter, and Percy was completely unable to move, paralyzed by fear, sadness, and bitter anger. Great. Just great. 
But Luke didn’t swing. He stopped, eyes cloudy and blank, and the bodies faded away. Was his subconscious being nice today? Luke stepped back, and his sword has vanished, and the scene was fading fast. 
Percy was awake. He grumbled, not wanting to open his eyes. His head was in the dirt, body completely weighed down by his own exhaustion. The arena floor wasn’t the worst place he could’ve fallen, at least. He grumbled, sat up, and rubbed his eyes until they opened.
You were still there, Percy’s eyes flew open, shaking any lingering tiredness. He scooted back just slightly. You were sitting beside him, head rested in hands and lips pursed. “Uhh,” he stuttered, scooting back further. “You’re uh, still hanging out here?” A quick glance showed the kids were gone, and the lesson had been over for a while. 
”You have some of the worst nightmares I’ve seen, dude,” you said simply, shifting your head from hands to hand. “I’m… sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to snoop.”
Percys brow furrowed. What? You looked apprehensive, but your words didn’t seem malicious in the slightest. He stopped scooting back, but he held his arm up defensively between you, unsure why. You didn’t have a weapon. “It’s… fine. Was it you that… ended it?” He asked tentatively.
You nodded. “It didn’t seem fun,” you said quietly. You looked away, hiding your face in a palm, “Sorry for putting you in there, I guess,” you said. “I’ll try to avoid sleeping you, if you want.”
Percy looked at you quizzically, jaw hung slightly open, more than confused. You were being nice. That’s crazy. He wasn’t sure how to act. Every word he said was laced with hesitation and the slightest bit of a stutter. “Thanks, I guess,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Appreciate it.”
You nodded, and a slightly sealed silence fell over the woods as you refused to look at him. But you didn’t stand up to leave yet either. 
“Hey, Y/n, can I ask,” he started, sitting up straighter and crossing his legs. “Usually you hate me…” he said, almost wincing. “Do you… not, today?”
That got your attention, and your eyes were burning through him. Your brow furrowed, and softened, your mouth opened and then closed, you looked away, then back at him, and then sighed. “I don’t hate you, Percy,” you admitted, sounding abjectly defeated. 
That got an involuntary “huh?” Out of him. You totally hated him. That was just a fact. 
You sighed, and shook your head, turning back away from him. You tone was far lighter this time, “no, I don’t hate you, I just- I don’t know,” you said.
”Then why-“ Percy started dumbly, but quickly trailed off, unsure how to make his question less rude. There didn’t seem to be an obvious answer. “Why are you like this,” he asked, cringing at his own callousness.
You snickered, looking at him with a slight and awkward smile. You shrugged, and looked back at the woods. Percy didn’t speak, he barely breathed, waiting for any sort of a signal from you. Somehow, it worked. You sighed , and stretched your legs in front of you and said, “I don’t know.” You paused, probably thinking. “It just comes naturally, I guess.”
Percy hummed. 
“That came out mean, didn’t it,” you laughed softly. 
“Like most things you say,” he laughed, but quickly trailed off. “Sorry.”
You smiled hesitantly, looking over at him with softer eyes than he usually sees on you. “No, that was deserved,” you said.
Percy smiled, and then raised his brow, surprising himself. That didn’t happen when he talked to you, this was fresh territory. Before he could respond, you were standing, and for the first time, offering him a hand up. And for the first time, he took it. 
You pulled him to his feet, but didn’t look at him, curtly turning your head away as he stood in front of you. Percy couldn’t help but snicker under his breath. You seemed intent on staring at a tree.
”Hey,” Percy started, brushing his hair out of his face. “Do you wanna go get on the same page about what we’re teaching them tomorrow so we don’t have a repeat of today?” He asked. He got a little scared when you finally looked at him, but you didn’t seem angry. And if anybody knew your angry face it was him. “We’ll probably be better teachers if we actually work together on it.”
You hesitated, raising your brow. “Uh, really?” You stuttered, crossing your arms and shrinking into yourself. 
Percy sighed. He was doing this, he’d committed now. For better or worse. “Yeah,” he nodded, with a friendly smile. “Why not? Let’s go get lunch or something.”
Percy wasn’t sure how well his olive branch was working. Your lips were pursed and arms still crossed, but.. the ever so familiar scowl you often showed him was absent from your lips. That could be good. You looked at the ground, then back to him, “yeah, okay.”
And here he was braced for rejection and an insult. Small victories. Percy grinned, nodding his head in the general direction of the dining pavilion, “then let’s go.” 
You nodded, and walked quietly beside him as he started for the path. Okay, a little awkward silence was nothing, that was still a win. Miles better than where he was this morning. Or even like, an hour ago. So Percy was inclined to try and bridge the gap. “The kids are gonna be really surprised when we actually work together, tomorrow,” he laughed. Careful words, when, not if.
He caught in his peripheral the tug of your lips upward into the slightest of smiles. “They’ll never see it coming,” you said. Maybe like a joke. Wow, was this actually working? You let out a small laugh, “neither did I.”
Percy but the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile. That made two of you, because this was the last thing Percy expected too. “Yeah,” he started. “Not bad though.”
For the first time in a good minute, you met his eyes, and his attention was drawn. You didn’t normally look at him like that. It was a… nice change pace. You sighed, “No, not the worst.” You swished your cheeks around a moment as you paused, but didn’t say more. And Percy would be lying to himself if he tried thinking he wasn’t a little disappointed. It almost looked like you were gonna say something nice. Well, maybe not the worst was nice enough. For you, at least.
”Percy, I’m really sorry about those nightmares,” you said finally, looking at the ground. 
Ah. That. Percy didn’t tell all that many people about his shit dreams. It was kind of a given that most people at camp got them, in some capacity at least. But he did his best to project a lighthearted image, especially when he was with the younger campers. “Oh,” he said dumbly. 
“If you want, I can help with those,” you offered quietly. 
Now that caught Percy’s attention. He raised his brow, “You can do that?” And he didn’t ask his other question: you would do that? Like, for him? 
You looked up at him, then back to the ground as the two of you approached the dining pavilion. “Yeah, Hypnos stuff,” you mumbled. “I do it for some other people too.”
Oh gods, you felt bad for him. That was a weird thought. “Oh- you don’t have to do that,” he started, suddenly far more embarrassed. So that’s why you were being nice. Suddenly it didn’t feel as good as before.
You looked up at him with wider eyes now, and bit the inside of your cheek. “Well, if you ever change your mind.”
Something about your pity didn’t sit right with him, even if was glad you didn’t look like you wanted to bite his head off. This look, the feeling sorry for him face, was somehow worse. “I won’t,” he snapped, sounding meaner than he meant. Or maybe he did mean it, in his bitterness he couldn’t tell. “You don’t need to pretend to like me now that you feel bad.”
You brow furrowed, and that pity look was gone in an instant. “Hey asshole, I was just offering to help,” you spat. Now this was more familiar. You crossed your arms at your chest as you walked. “Thought about being nice for once.”
”Yeah, for once,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Because now you feel bad.”
”Oh shut up,” you said, shaking your head with a glare. You stopped just short of the pavilion. “You aren’t special because you get nightmares, idiot, half the camp does,” you said, stepping closer to him. He was inclined to back away. “I’ve seen worse.”
Percy took another step back. There was a few stray campers sitting in the pavilion watching curiously, now. 
“But sure, go ahead,” you said, hands animating with your words. He flinched a moment as you halfway gripped the air. “Keep having your shit dreams, I don’t care.”
“Then why did you offer,” he spat back.
You looked at him like he was an idiot, shaking your head. “Because nightmares suck, nobody deserves that shit,” you said, like it was obvious. “Not even a stuck up asshole who thinks he’s better then everyone.”
What? Percy stood dumbly for a moment while your sharp glare subsided into a duller scowl. Did he really come off like that? “I’m not-“ he started, but quickly gave up. As much as he wanted to insult you back, half the things you said were genuinely pretty nice. You were right, nobody deserved that.
You scoffed, “sure you’re not,” you said bitterly. 
The two do you stood silently for a moment. And a few moments more. The couple of campers watching awkwardly tried to go back to eating. The lunch plans the two of you made seemed so far in the past now. Same with the idea of getting in the same page.
Percy spoke first. “I don’t- I don’t think like that,” he said lamely.
”No, you’re just the hero of Olympus, who goes on all the quests, who the gods tried to give immortality too,” you said. But the malice was gone. “You’re the reason I even have a cabin here,” you said quietly. 
Percy winced. How do you explain to somebody that going on all those quests… wasn’t always great. It stopped being amazing when more lives were at risk, the stakes got higher, people died. A lot of the time all the glory kind of sucked. “Well it’s… not all it’s cracked up to be,” Percy managed. “I mean, you saw the aftermath.”
”Yeah,” you said, looking at the ground. “That’s why I thought.. you might not be how I thought.” You looked up, expression made of stone. “But at least you’re… I don’t know,” you trailed off, “I think I’d still rather be somebody, even if it sucks.”
Percy half heartedly laughed through his nose, “Usually I feel the opposite, it would’ve been easier to be a kid of some minor god.”
”Grass is always greener, I guess,” you sighed. 
“You are somebody, though,” Percy said, realizing he should probably address that. The idea that you were insecure seemed so alien. The way you insulted him always seemed so confident. “You don’t need a ton of quests or fights to prove that.”
You rolled your eyes, a weak smile was forming on your lips, “well, that’s easy for you to say. I’m only here, and claimed, and in a cabin because you made the gods pay their child support.”
Percy smiled softly, gesturing his head to the tables at the pavilion. He started to walk as he spoke, “that’s the gods, that’s their problem,” he said, grabbing a plate to fill with the magic food with you behind him. “You’re more then the gods approval.”
He had to look back to see if you were still there, the way you went quiet. You grabbed a plate, and followed him to a table, all with that stone faced look. Not pity or malice, this time. When you sat down beside him, you finally cracked. “Thanks,” you managed, staring ruefully at your food. 
“It’s true,” Percy said. 
You looked up at him, a slight smile on your lips this time. “Thanks,” you said, more confidently. 
“Are you still up for helping me with the nightmares?”
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This request haunted me for like over a month cuz I couldn’t get anything out of it for a while. I wasn’t gonna post here but I ended up happier with it then I thought tho. Can you tell I never write enemies to lovers? I usually hate that trope lmao. Anyway part 2 coming maybe.
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Two Hearts, One Home (3)
part two
series masterlist
main masterlist
summary: ben copes with the thought of losing you and just wants to hear your heartbeat
pairing: soldier boy x female supe!reader
rating: R for language, mature themes (?)
word count: 4.2k
warnings: pregnancy, labor, language, vought torturing supe’s | mentions of/alludes to - sex, birth control, infertility issues, miscarriage, loss of a child, and trouble breastfeeding.
timeline: set about twenty minutes after part two
author’s note: part three! this is the happy ever after version, so this will be the final part. however i may be writing a prequel series. <3 (definitely titled sweet creature keeping with the title theme)
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“Sir, I need you to get out of the room!” A nurse yelled, trying to push Ben out of the Supe-ER.
“B-Ben don’t leave me here!” you exclaimed between pained gasps.
“I can’t fucking leave her!” Ben shouted.
“Hey, hey, hey, just let the doctors do their job,” Butcher pulled Ben back and out of the room. “Just breathe, she’s tough as nails, she’s gonna be okay.”
“I- I can’t lose her, Butcher.” Ben shook his head. He ran a hand down his face and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I can’t…fuck!”
In his fit of rage he punched the wall next to him, his fist going straight through it and peeking out into the other room. Suddenly everyone in the waiting room and the front office were staring at him.
“Weak wall,” Butcher muttered to a nurse who was now examining the hole.
“We get Supe’s in here all the time, that’s the fifth hole this week,” she laughed a little. “Just calm him down before he punches a person.”
“Will do.” Butcher smirked before turning back to Ben. “Let’s take a seat, yeah?”
“No, i-if I stand here I can still h-hear her h-heartbeat,” Ben said, tears streaming down his face. Butcher nodded a little.
“I’ll bring a chair over here for ya then.”
It was Ben’s turn to nod. “Thank you,” he said.
Butcher, true to his word, brought a couple chairs over to where Ben was standing so they could sit down but Ben could still listen to your heart. Ben put his face in his hands and his elbows on his spread knees. Butcher didn’t really know what to do, he’d never seen Ben this upset. Scared, even.
“About two years ago,” Butcher started, “Y/n and I were chasing this asshole who just stole this little girl’s backpack right in front of us. He jumped into his car and started driving off. But Y/n, being an absolute badass, flung herself onto the car, then managed to get in front of it. She stopped it with her bare hands, Ben. Lifted it off the fuckin’ ground. Or how about that time she saved half a dozen construction workers when that scaffolding started to give out so she held the damn thing together so they could all get out? She is the strongest woman on the fucking planet, you know she is.”
“But if that baby is stronger,” Ben said quietly, lifting his head to look at Butcher, “it might just tear her apart. I mean, this is my baby and her baby; it’s gonna be stronger than both of us. It might just kill her, Butcher.”
“What’s the worst thing Vought put her through?” Butcher asked. “I mean, what was something they did that almost killed her?”
“Nothing almost killed her. They stitched a bomb into her chest and it blew to bits inside her. Hurt like hell, but it didn’t come close to killing her.”
“This baby ain’t gonna kill her, Ben. She’s been through way worse than this and she’s still alive and well.”
Ben took a deep, long breath, trying to calm himself down. “Thank you, Butcher,” he mumbled.
“Of course, mate.”
**
“Mr. Barnes?” The nurse who had pushed Ben out of the room was now standing a few feet from where he sat. “Y/n’s okay, you can see her now.”
“Oh thank fucking god,” Ben exclaimed before hurrying to you. “You’re okay! You’re really- fuck!” He smiled when he saw you.
“Come meet your son,” you said, smiling.
“I was so worried about you,” Ben whispered before kissing you. “I- I thought I lost you!” He kissed you a couple more times, putting his hands on your face, before pulling away to look at the baby in your arms.
“He’s so little!” Ben gasped as you handed him the baby. “Look at you! So, so tiny! And you’ve got Y/n’s eyes!”
“Any thoughts on the name?”
“William?” Ben asked you.
“Really?” You smiled even wider, Ben nodded. “William it is!”
“Hello, William Barnes,” he said, once again looking at baby Will. He then looked back at you; your eyes heavy with sleep and a smile still on your lips. “How’re you feeling? Are you…okay?”
“I am now,” you replied, reaching out to take his hand.
**
“Everyone meet William Barnes,” you told the group (Butcher, Hughie, Annie, Frenchie, and Kimiko) when they walked in.
“William?” Butcher smiled widely. A real, genuine smile, which was rare for him.
“Yep, named him after William Shatner! We love Star Trek,” Ben replied. You slapped his arm.
“He’s kidding,” you laughed. “We named him after the man who saved Ben in Russia, then freed me from a Vought lab a couple days later.”
“Sounds like a stand up guy.” Butcher was still smiling.
“Wanna hold the baby?” Ben asked.
“Oh hell yeah!” he exclaimed.
**
“Now’s the hard part, right?” you said to Ben when the three of you entered the apartment; Ben holding a sleeping Will in his arms. “Now we’ve got this tiny little human to take care of.”
“Now’s the fun part, though, too.” Ben shrugged a little. “Now we get to watch the little guy grow up. We watch him start to crawl, take his first steps, hear his first words, hear his laugh when we make silly faces, all the joys of being parents!”
“And we get to watch him drink formula because I’m toxic and could kill him,” you scoffed a little, Ben’s smile slowly fading. “Sorry,” you shook your head, “I’m just tired. Could you watch Will so I can sleep?”
“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” he said, smiling softly again. “C’mere.” He pulled you into a tight, one armed hug and you wrapped your arms around him. “I love you so much, honey. You go sleep for as long as you want, I’ll take care of Will.”
“I love you, Ben,” you whispered as you pulled away. “So much!” you added, yawning widely as you walked into the bedroom.
**
You slept for almost fourteen hours before you stirred awake. You still didn’t feel fully rested, which was strange, but you chalked it up to the fact you’d stayed up for over 36 hours before you crashed.
You heard Ben singing very quietly to Will in the living room as an attempt to get him to stop crying.
As you listened closely you noticed he wasn’t singing a classic nursery rhyme. You quietly went to the bedroom door so you could hear better.
“Hush little baby don’t you cry,” he sang very, very quietly. “Everything’s gonna be alright. Stiffen that upper lip up, little baby, I told ya, Daddy’s here to hold ya through the night.”
“Are you singing Eminem to our newborn baby?” you asked, walking into the living room.
“Uh huh,” he mumbled. “Why? Should I not be singing Eminem?”
“Does it work?”
“Oh yeah, he’s out like a light!” Ben smirked. “Why aren’t you sleeping? You feeling okay?”
“I’ve been asleep since we got home yesterday morning,” you laughed a little.
“Are you still tired?”
“Weirdly yeah, but I’m sure it’s nothing.” You shook your head a little. “Mind if I go back to sleep? Or do you want a turn?”
“Go ahead, I’ve got this,” he said. You turned to walk back but he stopped you. “Wait,” he mumbled before you turned back. He bent down and kissed you, wrapping a now free arm around your waist. “I love you.”
“I love you.” You smiled back.
**
“Fucking hell!” you exclaimed loudly, throwing the breast pump across the room. Ben hurried over from the kitchen, a worried expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“The stupid pump isn’t fucking working! Or I dunno, maybe my boobs are fucking broken!”
“Hey, hey of course your boobs aren’t broken!” he replied as he took a seat next to you, not really knowing what to say. “I’m sure it’s just the pump, can I help you figure out how to work it?”
“Doesn’t matter,” you sniffled. “It’s all getting dumped down the drain anyway. What kind of fucking mother am I!?”
“Just because you have V in your system doesn’t mean you’re a bad mother?”
“Ben, how are you not more scared about all this?” You looked at him with tears in your eyes. “We’ve got a living, breathing, baby Supe in that room and you’re acting like this isn’t a horrifying situation! One wrong move and we’ll have the next Homelander! How are you so fucking calm!?”
“I’m freaking out too,” he whispered. “Every time you leave the room I let myself kinda go into panic mode because I don’t want to show you how scared I really am.” He took in a shaky, shallow breath.
“Ben!” you mumbled and took his hand in yours.
“I mean, you’re right! If we fuck this up, that kid could bring the whole world crumbling down!” He laughed humorously, putting his free hand on his face to hide the tears as he began sobbing a little. “I’m so scared I’ll be just like my dad, Y/n. I know I have it in me to be exactly like him. I drink more than he did, I’ve killed a countless number of people, I’m a fucking monster! When it comes down to it I am not someone who should be raising a fucking human being!”
“Ben, please don’t call yourself that,” you replied, a sob escaping your lips as well. “You’re nothing like your dad, you aren’t- you definitely are not a monster! You are a good person now! And now is what matters.”
**
“I don’t know, she just went to sleep last night and I couldn’t wake her up.” Ben’s deep voice slowly woke you up.
“Ma’am, can you hear me?” the stranger sitting next to you asked. You nodded. “That’s great, do you know where you are?”
“B-Ben?” you mumbled, knowing he’d hear you from the other side of the bedroom where he was talking to the other paramedic.
“Yeah, I’m here sweetheart,” he replied and hurried to you.
“Ben what happened?” you asked. “Who are these people? Wh-Why are they in our home?”
“Y/n, you weren’t responding when I tried to wake you and I got scared so I called Butcher. Hughie sent someone over to check on you,” Ben explained.
“Is the baby okay?” you asked.
“Yeah, Butcher’s got him in the kitchen right now. How’re you feeling?”
“I feel fine?” You shrugged. “A little confused about the random men in our bedroom but other than that I feel okay.”
“I think we better go,” the paramedic next to you said and stood up. “We’ll get her blood sample back to the lab - all kept confidential - and let you know if we can find out what happened.”
“Thanks,” Ben told him as the men left the room.
“Ben seriously, what the hell?” you asked, laughing a little. “I sleep in a little and you call Butcher? You get a doctor to take a blood sample?”
“Sweetheart, it’s nearly four in the afternoon. I first tried to wake you up at noon and you wouldn’t budge.” He looked terrified and your gaze softened.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whispered.
“I’m just glad you’re awake now. You are not falling back asleep any time soon!” he exclaimed.
“So… Butcher’s alone with the baby?”
“Yeah, I better go check on them.” Ben kissed you. “Get outta bed so you don’t fall back asleep, okay?”
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
**
“So the blood tests came back…” Hughie told you and Ben through the phone. “Y/n, there’s no Compound V in your system. There’s no trace the blood ever had Compound V.”
“Wait, what?” You furrowed your brows. “I don’t understand, the blood was switched out? Where’s my blood then?”
“No, it’s yours—it’s just no longer Supe blood,” Hughie replied.
“Holy fucking shit,” Ben mumbled.
“Yeah… as far as anyone can tell, Y/n is the first reverse-Supe ever. With your permission they want to use it to make a sort of Anti-V.”
“Wait so I’m cured?” you asked, shaking your head a little. “No offense Hughie but I don’t believe you. Like, at all. Not for a second.” There was an awkward pause. “Sorry, that came off really rude. Thank you for everything but there has to be some mistake. Do whatever the fuck you want with the blood, but I gotta say there’s no way it’s mine.”
“I will get back to you guys after I have more information, okay?” Hughie said before you all said goodbye and hung up.
** twelve years later **
“C’mon kid I said get mad!” Ben exclaimed. He was teaching Will to throw a good punch but the kid wasn’t taking it very seriously.
“Mom said we should always try our best not to let anger fuel us,” he replied.
“And usually she’s right, but in this case you’re hitting a punching bag so it’s okay.”
“Alright, but if mom gets upset it’s your fault!” Will laughed. He threw a nearly perfect punch to the center of the hanging equipment.
“Wow! Good job, kiddo!”
“Is it true you used to be able to break these with one punch?” he asked.
“Who told you that?” Ben furrowed his brows.
“These kids at school said that Soldier Boy used to be super strong but then he got old and sick. You said you used to be Soldier Boy, right?”
“I- I was Soldier Boy, yes. But I didn’t get sick, Will, I- I gave up the super strength so I could have a family with you and your mom.”
“You gave up super powers!? Look, dad, I love you but that was really dumb!” Will laughed.
“Mom gave up her super powers too! You don’t call her dumb!” Ben scoffed.
“Mom had super powers too!?”
“Shit- Uh shoot, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that yet. Mom and I were gonna tell you on your birthday tomorrow, we had a big thing planned and everything!”
“If I don’t tell mom I know and I act all surprised when she tells me, can I get that Lego set I asked for but you said was too expensive?”
“Uh… yes,” Ben said, knowing the Lego set was already wrapped and hidden in the closet ready for Will to open tomorrow morning. “Don’t tell your mom you know, and tomorrow you’ll get the Lego set.”
**
“What’d you do?” you asked Ben that night, after tucking your son in for bed. “Will just said, and I quote, ‘mom I think it’s really cool you don’t have superpowers’.”
“I… may have accidentally let it slip.” He clenched his teeth apologetically, you scoffed, disappointed. “I’m sorry! He was asking me about Soldier Boy and it just kinda came out!”
“How much did you tell him?”
“Just that you used to have powers, that’s it!”
“So, the plan still stands then? We… tell him everything tomorrow?”
“Yeah, he’s old enough to know the truth, I think. If he hates us for how we handled it then that’s just gonna be worse if we wait to tell him.”
“Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, still disappointed Ben spilled the beans.
“I’m sorry!” Ben pouted a little.
“No, don’t do the face!”
“What face?”
“That face you do that makes me agree with whatever you say!”
“Does that mean you forgive me?”
“Yeah,” you mumbled.
“Thank you,” he replied, smiling and holding out his hand for you to take. He pulled you into him and kissed you, smiling against your mouth when you kissed him back. “I love you.”
“I love you, Ben,” you mumbled against his mouth, going in for another kiss.
“I know I say this every time Will has a birthday, but thank you, Y/n. Thank you for giving me all this.”
“Thank you, too.”
**
You were all sitting at the dinner table, it was the afternoon and Will had already opened all of his presents. (Including the Lego set he thought he was bribed with.)
“Alright, Will, your mom and I have something pretty big we want to tell you. Now, it might change how you see us as parents, so um, if you don’t want us to tell you, that’s okay,” Ben said.
“Oh do tell!” He faked an interested look.
You smiled, laughing a little when he put his cheek in his hand to listen.
“Kid, she knows I slipped up yesterday, it’s alright,” Ben said, Will letting out a breath of relief.
“Oh thank god, I have so many questions!” he squealed with joy, calming your nerves a little.
“Go ahead, ask away,” you said.
“One, what were your powers? Two, how did you get your powers? Three, does this mean I have powers too? And four, who was stronger, you or dad?”
“I had super strength, and I could kinda-sorta fly. It was just really big jumps technically, but in a big city it looked like flying,” you told him.
“Wow, that's awesome!” Will mumbled, smiling widely.
“We both got our powers from a super serum that was given to us. Your mom when she was a baby, and me when I was in my twenties,” Ben said.
“And I was definitely stronger than your dad,” you added. “I kicked his ass a couple times.”
“She definitely did,” Ben sighed, smiling.
There was a bit of a pause.
“So… do I have powers too?” Will asked.
“You used to,” Ben told him.
“Will, when I was pregnant with you I somehow lost my powers. Some scientists used my blood to make what they called the ‘Anti-V’ which was a cure for the people who were injected with the serum. You see, a lot of these people, including myself, didn’t choose to take the serum, our parents chose for us. They gave it to us as babies and it ruined a lot of lives.”
“I don’t understand, why don’t I have powers?” Will asked.
“We gave you the Anti-V when you were two-years-old,” you told him. His shoulders fell in disappointment.
“Why? I would’ve loved to be a superhero!” he scoffed.
“It was a tough choice, Will, but it was the right one,” Ben assured him. “Vought, the company that made the serum, they would’ve hurt us, hurt you. But, when you’re older, you can take the serum if you want to.”
“But,” you started, “we want you to really think about it because being a Superhero is nothing like the movies, Will. It’s nothing like Captain America or Spider-Man or Batman. There are so many sides to it, and there are enough bad sides to it that nearly eighty percent of the people who were given the serum ended up taking the Anti-V.”
“And that’s not counting all the kids like you who were given it because of their parents,” Ben added.
“Actually, Batman doesn’t have powers,” Will muttered, beginning to smile a little. “But Captain America is definitely similar to Dad.” He giggled, causing you and Ben to smile.
“So… you’re okay?” Ben asked.
He shrugged. “I’m not like, mad if that’s what you’re asking.”
You and Ben let out breaths of relief, smiling wider.
“Will, we love you so much.” You reached across the table to take one hand and Ben took his other. “So, so much. When you turn eighteen, you can have a chance to take the serum and get your powers back if you want, but not a day sooner. Okay?”
He nodded. “Thank you for telling me all this. Can I tell you something now?” You and Ben both nodded. “I don’t think I want to watch Marvel movies anymore. Feels kinda weird now.”
** another six years later **
“Y/n!” Ben shouted from downstairs, effectively waking you up. He ran up and into the bedroom. “He’s gone.”
You sat up, “What?”
“Will! He’s gone! He must’ve gone to get the serum!”
“No! Oh, god no!” you exclaimed, hurrying out of bed and putting on your clothes from the night before. “Ben! This is really bad!”
“I know!” he exclaimed back. “He must’ve left the second he turned eighteen! Fuck!”
“Alright, let’s just breathe,” you pulled his hands away from his face, “he wouldn’t take it without telling us. He’s been very open about his feelings toward Vought and Compound-V the last few months and he would not just run off and take the serum.”
“You’re right,” he nodded, “but if he has, you remember what that means for us, right?”
“We’ll have to take the serum too.” You smiled sadly.
“Exactly, we can’t let him go through it alone! He’ll need other Supe’s that love and care about him.”
You wrapped your arms around his torso and he wrapped his around your shoulders.
“We can do this, Ben. We’ve been good parents for eighteen fuckin’ years and we’ve raised an incredible young man. He will make the right decision, I know it.”
“You’re right, you’re right.” Ben nodded. “He’s not taking Compound-V.”
**
“Mom, Dad, I got the Compound-V!” Will called out, walking into the house.
“Uh, oh,” Ben mumbled, looking up at you from where he sat at the table.
“We’re in the kitchen, hun!” you called back.
He walked into the kitchen, carrying a small black container.
“I went to the bank today,” Will said, putting the black box on the table.
“Uh huh?” You furrowed your brows, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder. He reached and held your hand, filled with worry.
“I took the serum,” Will said.
“No,” you whispered, eyes widening.
“Fuck,” Ben mumbled, bringing his hands to his face. “Will, why?”
“Will, we- we love you and we’ll support you in this decision, just-” you took in a shaky breath, trying to stay calm, “did you get your powers yet?’
“What? Oh! No, I didn’t take take the serum,” Will said. “I meant that I took it from the safety deposit box. It’s right here.” He opened the container on the table to reveal the three syringes of Compound-V.
Ben visibly tensed, so you put both hands on his shoulders.
“So… have you, um, have you decided what you wanna do with it?” you asked, mentally praying to anyone who’d listen he wouldn’t take the serum.
“I wanna throw it away. I don’t wanna be a Supe,” Will told you.
“Really?” Ben asked, Will nodded with a slight smile.
“I mean,” Will shrugged, “being a Superhero would be awesome hypothetically. But there’s no such thing. I’d be super, sure, but I’d never be a hero, that part’s always fake. Also, after everything Vought’s done, especially to you guys, I don’t want their serum coursing through my veins. So, I am dumping these vials down the drain…” He took the three vials and held out two of them. “Wanna help?”
Ben let out a relieved laugh as he stood up. He wrapped Will up in a bone-crushing hug.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed before pulling away and placing a kiss on Will’s forehead. He took one of the vials before they both looked at you.
“Mom?” Will asked, noticing the tears in your eyes.
“I’m so proud of you!” you choked out. You hurried over to hug him as well as take one of the vials. “I love you so much, Will, thank you so much for not taking the serum.” Ben put his arms around the two of you, resting his head on yours.
After a few blissful moments wrapped up in the group hug the three of you pulled away.
“We should probably dump these into the dirt, right?” Ben asked.
You shrugged, “Once it hits the air it’s useless. So, drain or dirt, I don’t think it matters.”
“Ooh, how about down the toilet?” Will suggested. “More poetic that way!”
“I like how you think, kiddo,” Ben said.
The three of you went to the bathroom and held the syringes over the toilet, needle side down.
“Three,” you all said together, “two,” you all put your thumbs on the ends, ready to push the Compound-V out of the vials and out of your lives forever. “One.”
As the blue liquid hit the toilet water, you smiled. It was over, you and your family were really free.
“Shall I do the honors?” Will asked, his hand hovering over the flush lever.
“Go ahead,” Ben said, putting his left hand on your hip, his right holding a now empty syringe. Will flushed the toilet and you all watched as the poison disappeared and was replaced with clean toilet water.
**
“The empty syringes have been properly disposed of,” Ben told you before plopping down on the couch beside you.
“I’m so glad he didn’t take the serum,” you breathed. “We were this close to losing everything-”
“Thank you,” Ben cut you off, you furrowed your brows a little. “It’s Will’s birthday, it’s the day that I always remember to thank you for giving me all this.” You smiled. “So, thank you, Y/n.”
“You’re more than welcome, Ben,” you replied before he kissed you. “And thank you, too.”
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fineghkst · 1 year ago
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How Eris and Azriel would react if their mate didn’t remember them
warnings: angst
a/n: kinda disappeared last weeks bc my classes are back, but hopefully i’ll have time to post more in the next few days
Eris Vanserra
Eris never expected to have a mate, but when he put his eyes on you for the first time, he realized how much he needed you
It took a long time for him to show who he truly was behind the mask he was used to wear. The cold and rude heir he learn to be turned into a sweet, caring and loving mate
At first, Eris thought it was only a joke
But then he realized the serious look on your face, looking him like he was a completely stranger. His world broke into pieces
How cold he live in a reality where his mate didn’t remember him? The person he loves the most doesn’t even knows who he was or about the bond
Eris felt like a knife were stuck between his ribs. Would that be a punishment for everything he has done before?
He would definitely blame himself for letting that happen to you. At some point, he starts to distance, trying (and failing) to act like he doesn’t care since he thinks that’s the best for you
That would destroy him, but still, he just wanted to see you well again. And having a mate pressuring you to remember about the bond was not the best way to recover your memories
Eris would be in a vortex of guilt and self pity for a while
But he couldn't handle not having you in his life. Eris realizes he just wants to be with you, even if it’s just like a friend
Eris would make everything he can to help you recover your memories and if it wasn’t possible, he would build new ones with you
Eris would show how much he loved you everyday, but never pressuring you to act like his mate
Being patient and letting you discover things by yourself, but would gladly tell you about your story together or answer any questions you may have
You would be free to make your own decisions, even if it was to leave him
Azriel
This poor boy would be completely devastated
It took centuries for him to finally meet you and now he was losing you
He honestly thought after the mating ceremony you two would have a type of happily ever after
Until suddenly you didn’t knew his name
Az would definitely be stuck in really bad place once you lose your memories. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t have an idea of what he could do to fix it
Azriel wouldn’t know how to act in your presence, so he accompanies you from distance, making his shadows always be with you, ensuring your safety
Would go out looking for a cure all over Prythian
Once he didn’t find out a way to recover them, Azriel felt completely defeated and desperate
He starts to redo the whole story of you two again, taking you to the most striding places
First, Az would take you to where he saw you for the first time, then, to the restaurant of the first date. After that, to the place you two gave the first kiss
Tries to win you back everyday
He would definitely be terrified of the moment you found out about his job at the Night Court, just like he was when you two were only starting the relationship
In short, Azriel would show how much he loves and cares for you. The spymaster would definitely boil in jealousy if any male approached you, but like Eris, he would leave you free to make your own decisions, even if they destroyed the little happiness he had conquered by your side
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blingblong55 · 1 year ago
Text
Can't catch me now- Simon "Ghost" Riley
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Photo credits: @ave661 ---- No mentions of reader, angst, comfort? fluff? death of character ----
"GHOST!" 
It was too late, the body hit the ground. Simon Joseph Riley was pronounced dead. Gunshot to the head, his heart penetrated by the bullet and the ones to witness this are his mates from the team. His blood ran down the rocky mountain. The team witnesses something. During this whole mission, they only experienced rain and thunder, to their surprise, the second Simon dies, the sun shines through the clouds. A rainbow was born over the horizon. "Enjoy your new home, soldier," Captain Price nods at his own words as with glee he knows his comrade is finally home. "Take it easy," Gaz takes his cap on and looks at the sun that pours from the clouds. "Tell Soap we'll meet him for drinks someday," Price adds and fights back tears.
 It's the end of an era but the beginning of a good life for the two past comrades. 
Three days later, there he is, his body in that casket, a proper military funeral given to him and he is laid to rest with the rest of his family. 
Simon opens the door to his childhood home, the sun rays casting through the window, the walls grey and white "Welcome home, son," his mum greets him. There is confusion in Simon. Why was he here? is this a dream? Before he can even gather his thoughts, his brother, nephew and even his sister-in-law walk into the entryway and hug him. "Welcome home, brother," Tommy whispers as he hugs a confused Simon. 
Why is his dead family here? Welcome home! what does this mean?
Oh...
Oh by all luck, he's dead. 
"Mum?" 
"Yes, Simon?" the woman's sweet voice rings in his ears. 
All of a sudden, he is excited and happy. A smile creeps into his lips and there it was, that good feeling. He is home. His body doesn't ache, the scars are gone and all that is left with him is a smile and an afterlife where in this one, he finally has it all. 
"The girls are in the kitchen," his mum whispers. 
His wife and girls? There it is, that smile. He hasn't seen them since their funeral, this must mean he truly is in heaven. 
He walks past his mother and goes into the kitchen. The sight is too much to not just stop and idolise. His wife, his three daughters and those smiles and giggles. "Girls?" His voice is raspy. There is a knot in his throat. He is home with them too. "Daddy!" His youngest smiles and runs to him with her small arms open, his two other daughters follow suit. 
"Oh, my loves," his big arms wrapping over all of his daughters. Tears run down, happy ones. It's been two years since he last held them this way. "My lovie," Simon holds his arm out so his sweet wife can join this moment. That gentle and soft hand of hers, god it's like the heavens finally gave him peace. He sobs, it's uncontrollable and how can a man like him control such tears when after so long of losing his family...families to his job he finally has both? 
He gives kisses to all their foreheads. "Daddy, what took so long?" His eldest little princess asks. "I don't know princess, but I'm finally home," he reassures and hugs her again. Those tears run down yet again and he won't stop them. 
This is his heaven. The walls, the giggles, the hugs, and that familiar scent. Heaven is not clouds and a pearly gate for him, no, but it is this. A kitchen, his four loves, his mum, Tommy, Joseph and even Beth, everyone that has ever mattered to him is here and for once, he is in heaven. 
"Uncle Soap!" Joseph smiles. 
Soap?...Johnny?
"About time you came to the party, LT," Soap pats Simon's back. 
"Great to see you, mate." 
"Likewise. I held onto a good bottle for ya, yer girl won't let me open it though," Soap sends a teasing annoyed look at Simons's wife and a small chuckle escapes Simon. 
"She's a stubborn one, like yer, Lt." Soap teases. "I married her for a reason, isn't it right, love?" Simon can't help but smile as he gets to finally say that nickname again. "Very, Si." What a sweet delight, to have his pretty girl call him that again. 
"Price and Gaz joining?"
"Not yet, give them a few good years."
"Daddy, let's go play outside!" 
This is what he missed. The demands from his princess, the giggles, the big eyes and that pout when he would say no. "Okay, but only before your mum wipes that chocolate stain from your nose." He chuckles. "Deal," the little girl runs back to Simons's wife. 
From a corner, Simon sees Tommy. He's playing catch with his son, laughing at some dumb joke. 
It's beautiful. It's painfully beautiful how one can die on Earth but live in their heaven. 
One soldier dreams of this, they yearn for it and that is what Simon did for nearly 28 years. Now, all he has is this. No more war, no more aches, no one to chase. He can grow in this home again. He will live the life he always dreamed and right now, that is all he wants and needs. 
Yeah, you thought that this was the end
A/N: I honestly don't know where this was heading so....im sorry if it's shit
Tags:
@joyfulmarvelofavengers @ghostnna22 @hermizery @liyanahelena @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed
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spiderlily-w1tch-blog · 1 year ago
Text
𝙰𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚒𝚔𝚒 𝚃𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒 - 𝙰𝙱𝙾 𝙿𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙾𝚖𝚎𝚐𝚊
𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊
— — —
ft A!Kiri, A!Fatgum, A!Mirio, B!Midoriya, B!Nejire, B!Tsu; Pack Alpha!Tamaki
𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own BNHA or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors
WC: 1,885
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: probably cringey, 1(one) use of “Y/n”, obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)
𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔦 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: I’m gonna be entirely honest, I don’t remember much about writing this one because I was high off my ass for most of it lmao unfortunately I’m also not super satisfied with this one but at least some of y’all seem to like this!
【Masterlist】
— — —
I panted as I bounced my hips back against Tamaki’s. He gripped my hips and used that as leverage to thrust his hips forward slightly, meeting my hips and letting his balls slap against Eijirou’s. Eijirou laid beneath me, his hands planted firmly on my tits, worshiping and laving over them with his rough tongue. Their scents enveloped me and hazed my mind further with their dominating and arousing scents mixing together, mingling with my own submissive and exultant one.
Both of their cocks slid hard and fast, in and out of me, filling me perfectly and stretching me with such a delicious burn. My eyes rolled to the back of my head when Tamaki rammed exactly into my cervix, making me lose sight of the rest of my pack.
Mirio, Izuku, Nejire, and Tsu all sat on the edge of my nest enjoying the show that our Alphas and I were putting on after already having had their rounds of pleasure with me. Each of their scents clung to me and permeated the air, filling it with the smell of sex, lust, sweat, and slick. Suddenly Taishirou took his place and kneeled in front of me, lifting my head to see his warm smile, a contrast from just how roughly he prefers to ravish my body.
“You ready, ‘Mega?” He asked and once he received a nod, he guided my lips to his rock-hard dick. Taking him in, he wasted no time in thrusting in, immediately breaching my throat. I gagged and convulsed for only a moment before I recomposed myself and breathed through my nose, “Good job, sweetheart..” He groaned out, keeping his cock down my throat for another moment before pulling back and letting me bob my head over his shaft. He let out a satisfied scent and mixed his Alpha pheromones with the other two surrounding me like a cocoon.
I moaned out around his length when I felt one of Tamaki’s hands leave my waist and made contact with my clit. He rubbed in tight circles and even slid his fingers down to massage where my cunt was so stretched full.
“Fuck… Alpha, she feels amazing… Tastes fantastic, too..” I heard Ei growl out against my skin, making sure to be loud enough that Tamaki could hear him.
“You’re right.. Kami, she feels fantastic..” Tamaki growled out in response, his instincts having taken over and left no room for timidity, “You hear that, baby? Fuck, you’re so good for us, you know? Fuck- So fucking good..” The sound of his cursing sent waves of more arousal through me and straight to my stretched cunt. In lieu of being able to answer, I simply let out whorish moans around the thick cock penetrating my throat.
From all the different sensations, Eijirou and Tamaki both pounding into me from behind, Tama’s fingers furiously rubbing over my clit, and Tai’s cock filling my mouth, I was sent hurdling over the edge. My 3rd orgasm since we began wracked through me and made my slick gush around two of my mates. My scent was that of a satisfied Omega, happy and content to be filled so well by my Alphas.
“Fuuuck, even I felt that, sweetheart..” Tai’s accented voice called from above me, his hand stroking over my hair to soothe me from my heightened senses. Tama’s fingers still slid over my clit but they let up a bit. Though the assault on my insides never ceased, I felt the base of Tama and Ei’s cocks begin to swell, signaling that their knots were forming. It seemed I wasn’t the only one to notice as I heard a short whine from the edge of my nest.
From his position below me, I felt Ei turn his head at the sound. ‘Must have been Izuku, then,’ my muddled mind was able to produce, the answer being confirmed when I smelled his wanton and desperate scent, practically begging for relief.
Glancing out the side of my eye, I could see Mirio take position behind his boyfriend and roughly slam into him, producing another loud whine, though this one was far lewder. Beside them, I could see Tsu ravaging Nejire’s pussy, her tongue likely buried deep inside her, reaching all of her sensitive spots. The sight of the rest of my pack, and partners, aroused me even further and had me focussing even more on the feeling of Tama and Ei’s growing knots.
Tama’s hand still on my waist gripped tighter as his pleasure grew from the feeling of his knot rubbing over the edge of my hole. His tight grip was sure to bruise but I was happy for that. More evidence that he’s who I belong to, such being reflected in my scent of happiness and longing. In my excitement, I circled my hips against my Alphas plowing into me.
“‘Mega.. Oh, Kami- ‘Mega, you feel so good. So good, my little Omega..” Tamaki started panting behind me. He leaned forward and pressed his chest against my back, never relenting his hard thrusts that reached the deepest parts of me, alongside Eijirou. His fingers started to work my clit harder again as he sucked and nipped at his Claim on my scent gland. He began to move upward, kissing up my jaw, and pressed a kiss to the apple of my cheek.
“My perfect little Omega.. Such a good girl.” He groaned into my ear, pressing a sweet, soft kiss to my temple. “Are you feeling good, Bunny?” He muttered softly, his sweetness persisting even though his Alpha instincts were in full effect.
“Mhmm! Mhmm!!” I cried out around Tai’s large cock that continued to bob in and out of my throat. The vibrations of my moans made Tai let out his own growled moans, keeping his hand steady, though gently, planted in my hair.
Tama pressed sweet, wet kisses to my scent gland again before he bit into it, right over his Claim, and sent another shockwave of pleasure through me, making me cry out as much as I could. I had been so focussed on the sensation of Tamaki laving over my scent gland and the dual cocks pounding into my fertile cunt that I hadn’t even realized Tai’s knot had formed. He made sure to never pop it inside my mouth but he continued to thrust into my mouth until I felt his hot cum shoot down my throat. He slid his cock out of my mouth and rested back on his haunches, panting as if he’d just run a marathon, and looking at me with lidded eyes filled with love. A scent of pure satisfaction emanated from him, making me chirp and purr in pride that I could properly satisfy my Alpha.
“Feel so perfect. So fucking perfect..” I felt, more than heard, Ei mumble around my nipple that he had clasped in his lips, staying cautious of his teeth. The more he sucked and groped at my tits, the more pleasure shot through my being. Tamaki’s thrusts got harder and faster as he approached his knot completely inflating. Ei cried out at the feeling of Tamaki’s cock dragging so hard and fast that it seemed to accelerate his knot’s growth.
The taste of Tai’s cum and the feeling of Ei’s assault on my breasts alongside Tamaki’s cock ramming into me with his head almost kissing my cervix had my eyes rolling to the back of my head as yet another orgasm claimed me, loud purrs vibrating my chest from the pleasure. My tightening cunt seemed to send Tama and Eiji hurdling to their end as they both popped their knots inside my cunt, almost immediately shooting their loads into me.
“Alpha!!!!” I screamed out in pleasure as I finally felt their hot seed filling me up and making my stomach swell even more from how full they made me. Not a single drop of their cum escaped from where both their knots were settled inside me, efficiently plugging me up and tying us together.
“You did so well, Y/n. Such a perfect Omega for us. You took all our cum inside you.” Tamaki said into my ear, his hand sliding up to where my stomach was bulging out, “Can you feel us? Right here. Our cum is all right here in your womb..” He muttered, pressing soothing kisses to his Claim which I could only assume was an angry red from his bite. A scent of satisfaction, happiness, and joy rolled off me in waves, accompanied by content purring and small chirps.
“Wanna be good.. Wanna be good for you.. Alpha..” I weakly muttered, turning my head to capture his lips in a wet, sloppy kiss. I faintly recognized Ei’s hands shifting to run soothingly up and down my sides, making sure to lightly massage any sore spots from rougher treatment, the softness shifting my purr from one of simple contentment to pure happiness from my Alpha caring for me.
“And you’re perfect, Omega. So, so perfect.” Tama responded, pressing another sweet kiss to my lips, “C’mere..” He started to shift us all gently to be laying on our sides, our legs tangled in a mess of limbs as their knots were still firmly locked inside me. At even the slightest movement, I whimpered in overstimulation from my abused cunt, still stretched almost too full.
At hearing my whimper, all of my pack immediately had their attention zeroed in on me. Their instincts were all screaming to protect me and ensure I’m alright. Sweet, soothing kisses were pressed to my shoulder and face by Tamaki and Eiji respectively as we finally got settled.
Only once Tamaki, our Head Alpha, gave the okay, did the rest of our pack move in to form a cuddle pile. Tai slid behind Ei and comfortably fit himself against his back, wrapping his long arm all the way around to hold Tamaki’s waist, using his other hand to reach and stroke my hair.
Nejire and Tsu curled up by our heads, Tai’s head ending up laid over Nejire’s stomach and Tsu laying mirroring her girlfriend, her fingers stroking lightly over my arm. They both pressed soft kisses to the top of my head and let out soothing chirps which I automatically returned.
Miri laid on his back, his side pressing against Tama with his head resting on Tsu’s thighs. Izu quickly moved to get supplies we would need to clean up and recover before slotting himself into Miri’s side, nestling into him and happily breathing his scent.
The combined scents of my pack and the sound of a collective purring all lulled me into a sense of security and calmness. Happiness wafted through the air in my scent, being met with happiness and love from the different scents surrounding me.
“My perfect little Omega,” Tamaki whispered, his instincts calming and letting his timidity resurface, though it seemed to be drowned out by exhaustion, happiness, and his ambient instincts to care for his Omega. I let out an answering chirp and rubbed over his head which he nestled into the crook of my neck, laying soft kisses to his Claim.
I let out another chirp of happiness to my Mates and my pack which they all readily returned before I drifted off into a comfortable sleep.
— — —
𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:
@frosch-thefrog
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theglassofmiddleearth · 1 year ago
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I'm Always Funny. You're Just Not Smart Enough To Keep Up. (Teaser!)
Max Verstappen X reader
Danny Ricciardo X reader platonic.
Not sure if anyone here is an F1 fan but I've recently gotten into F1 and I've started writing a small fanfiction of Max Verstappen Fake relationship Au! Please tell me if you like this and want the rest of it! Enjoy~
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Max had just broken up with his long time girlfriend Kelly Piquet. 
They had disagreed on their future plans and had decided it would be better to part ways. It was an amicable split and Max still visited Penelope. However, the media wasn’t kind to him, not that it usually was.
Fans were in a roar over the split calling him all sorts of names for the past seven months.
It wasn’t too bad until the sponsors started to look a bit concerned over the state of the media.
Y/N, being a small town girl from Perth Australia, knew Daniel Ricciardo from when she was younger. His sister Michelle would babysit Y/N from time to time and that's how she came to meet the ever enthusiastic personality that was Daniel.
Daniel, alongside Michelle, had been like an older sibling to Y/N. He would always visit her or text her to catch her up on his state of affairs. 
After his ill-fated departure from Mclaren, to which Y/N was still fuming over. He had spent two months back in Australia, lounging around before Y/N and Michelle told him to get back into what he really loved.
Sure enough, Daniel returned to RedBull as a reserve driver alongside his old teammate Max Verstappeh and Sergio “Checo” Perez.
It was at this point Max had been receiving scalding comments and the Public Relations (PR) Manager had decided it would be a good idea for Max to date someone new with good media presence. Someone who the fans were bound to like.
That is exactly where Y/N came in. She had been featured on Daniel's social media before and made small cameo’s on RedBull and Mclaren videos, wishing Danny luck in his races or even supporting him in person.  
~~~~~~
Max walked alongside Y/N at a brisk pace. They were wading through the crowd of press just before the paddock and after the car park. Y/N was slightly uncomfortable with the firm grip that Max had on her hand but refrained from speaking up. He, after all, was paying her salary, so to speak. 
“Smile,” Max grunted out. Nodding at the press and giving half smiles in a seemingly out of character style. 
Y/N, who was already smiling hissed through her teeth.
“The hell you think I'm doin’ mate?” She then turned slightly away to wave at the photographers,
“Morning! Hope you’re all well rested! Make sure to drink enough water too!” She called out to the mass of people. Y/N understood that these people had to make a living and if you were nicer to them, they were bound to return the favour, although that was easier said than done.
Verstappen kept a pleasant expression as he continued to walk past people, signing hats along the way. 
“When can we stop this damn circus act?” He hissed into her ear, his voice sounding like the grind of gravel. 
“Whenever your PR Manager lets us.” She replied, her smile unfaltering as she kept walking beside him.
“This is all a stupid waste of money and time.” He grumbled under his breath. “This whole relationship thing and the sponsors.” Y/N cocked her head knowingly and replied,
"You need those sponsors and so does RedBull. Anyways, don’t give me a hard time because of it, yeah? I’m just doing my job to the best of my ability.” It wasn't as if she didn't want the money, however she also did it to help out Danny. Apparently the situation had made Max a little crabby.
Max sighed, “You have no idea who many different people we have to play happy couple for to satisfy the sponsors.” to which Y/N smirked and retorted with.
“I dunno, maybe the whole world, Mr Formula 1 World Champion?” Max rolled his eyes dismissively, effectively losing his facade.
“Do you know how much the sponsors pay me to keep you around? Don’t smart mouth me man.” He spat out, scowling and crossing his arms defensively. He pointed at the camera’s who had now turned back to you at the suddenly escalating conversation as moths were drawn to light.
Luckily they hadn’t heard the conversation, only seen the wild gestures that Max had thrown out in exasperation. 
Y/N, being the quick thinker she was, gently patted his shoulder and stepped closer to him,
“Calm down mate, they’re looking at us. Let’s just get inside the paddock yeah? Then we can argue when we get to the motor home.” She whispered slowly, hoping to ease his stress.
“Whatever, " Verstappen muttered, his voice ever harsh and monotonous.
He led her by the small of her back past the photographers and past the gates and into the paddock. He kept you firmly by his side while remaining silent. It seemed like he wasn’t going to talk until they were both tucked into a private building. Or as private as it would get.
As they briskly walked by, they passed some children who were staring in awe at Max. Y/N smiled at the children and tugged on his short sleeve gently.
“Max, give them an autograph! Look, they're so cute. This one’s wearing a mini version of your race suit!” She exclaimed, clearly taken by the children who were bubbling with energy.
Max, as a result of Y/N’s excitement, stopped walking and looked over at her with his signature grim expression before seeing the children. His eyes shifted and his expression became light hearted and almost charming.
“Yeah, alright I’ll sign a few things for you guys.” He grinned at the kids that had gathered around began thanking him incredulously in adoration as their favourite Formula one driver signed their shirts and caps.
Max suddenly turned to Y/N with a small smile,
“Here,” he said, handing her a sharpie, “You should sign one too. They’ll like it.” Y/N shook her head, shy from the sudden attention. 
“But I’m not famous like you. They don’t know me.” She turned to the children, sheepish, waiting for them to collectively agree. Yet, to her surprise one of the younger girls reached out to hug her and exclaimed,
“I know you! You’re Max’s girlfriend! My older brother says you’re pretty!” The little girl beamed up at her and pointed at an older male of similar facial structure who was blushing.
Y/N laughed in surprise and smiled brightly at the young girl.
“Hey love! Would you like me to sign your shirt?” She kneeled down to face the girl and all the younger kids. The children that were now surrounding you went crazy, screaming “Yes!” and “Please!”
They held out their belongings for her to sign, clearly overjoyed. She laughed in delight while Max looked on, while chatting to other young fans.
Y/N gave each of them a hug before signing their shirts.
“Oh and here!” She took out a large ziplock bag that was filled to the brim with friendship bracelets she had made for the fans.
“Take these! There’s enough for all of you.” She ruffled the closest childs hair. Max watched in amusement as the children who were absolutely beside themselves, trying on their new bracelets.
“You’re good with the fans,” he said, actually sounding genuine and kind for once. Y/N shook her head, smiling and waving at the children still as they walked away.
“Nah, I just love the kids. I want them to have good memories that build into hope and motivation.” She looked at Max and gave him a small smile.
“That’s very kind of you.” Verstappen replied, sounding surprisingly sincere. They both walked towards the motorhouse and as they reached the entrance Max opened the door for Y/N and signalled for her to enter.
Y/N walked through, thanking him on the way and waved hello while passing all the staff and volunteers of the Red Bull team.
The pair made their way, through all the greetings and then into Max’s room where Max closed the door behind them both and then turned to face Y/N.
“Alright, no more fake smiles or pleasantries. He sighed, “Do you know how long we’re stuck with this whole fake relationship thing?” He asked while plopping down onto his bed, unceremoniously to which Y/N shook her head. She herself was unsure.
“Nope. I was hired for a year-long contract but it wasn’t definitive,” She sighed and sat down on his chair and spun to face him.
“I think it wouldn’t be too bad for us to be friends Max.” She sat forward with her elbows on her knees.
“It’s not like we’re attracted to each other. It would make life easier if we got along, no?" Max stared at her, inquisitive.
“Friends.” He said slowly, almost as if tasting the word before he tilted his head to say,
“Friends don't usually get paid to be with one another.” Max raised his eyebrows.
“But, I guess being friends wouldn't be too bad. It’s not like anything would happen between us anyways.” Y/N nodded and chuckled, 
“I mean, I get paid to pretend to be your girlfriend. We could totally do it from afar y’know?” she shrugged, smiling.
“That sounds like a great idea.” Max said sarcastically. 
“I’ll just yell ‘I love you’ through a megaphone at you from a distance and we’ll keep it going that way.” He smirked mischievously, crossing his arms to which Y/N burst into laughter in sheer surprise. 
“Right! That would get all the fans roaring.” She chuckled loudly, enjoying his dry humour.  She gave him a genuine smile before asking, 
“You’re really funny when you want to be huh?”
Verstappen rolled his eyes with a subtle upturn in lips at your amusement. Y/N had an instinct that he was proud of the reaction he got out of her.
“I’m funny all the time.” He retorted, “You’re just not smart enough to pick up on it.” He said with a cocky smile.
 
~~
AND THATS THE TEASER! please comment if you'd like the rest!? Thank You for reading!
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bookshelfdreams · 1 year ago
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Izzy just can't stop fucking martyring himself, can he
bleeding on everyone around him like it's his job
A few toes are a small price to pay to have the great and terrible Blackbeard back, eh, Izzy? The fear of the crew is a small price to pay. The dead in raids are a small price to pay. Ed, dead-eyed, hollow-cheeked, drugged up and barely himself - a small price to pay.
Clearly, what Ed, what Blackbeard really needs is someone he can hurt, someone to bleed for him, and Izzy will do that, won't he, oh-so-nobly bear the pain, look how much I'm hurting for you, the least you could do is be grateful!
Mate, you are fucked in the head.
Nobody wants this. Everyone on this ship is miserable, all the damn time, including Izzy himself and still! Still! He doesn't fucking get it! When the crew literally embraces him, despite everything, still all he can do is antagonize everyone around him!
Even after he loses his leg! Even after they're saved by the Red Flag!
Because pain is predictable, isn't it. Pain, as emotions go, is simple. It hurts like a motherfucker, but at least it keeps him from sitting with his thoughts. Izzy's in a slightly better place, sitting in the cell, waiting to be executed, sure, but still all he has for Stede is "Give me your worst".
Izzy wants someone to lash out at him, because he feels terrible inside, and if someone else hurts him, he doesn't have to think about the reason why he feels so bad.
But Stede won't give him that. Finally, the unstoppable force of Izzy's need to push until someone snaps meets the immovable object of Stede being Done With Izzy's Shit. Of Stede having neither the energy nor the mental capacity to be angry at Izzy. The Look he gives Izzy is just a stronger version of what he's been doing the whole episode - refusing to rise to the bait.
Because despite how much Izzy wants someone to hurt him, this isn't about him. If he wants to grow and heal, he has to learn that his pain isn't the only thing that exists in the world.
Whether he will do that remains to be seen.
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bunnyb0ne · 2 months ago
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The second post, yuppie! This time I bring you my Dialtown children, exactly two of them. I have more, but these two are the most complex and I've actually put a lot of thought in them.
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This is M. O. N. O (Многофункциональный-Модуль-для-Охраны-и-Наблюдения/Multifunctional-Module-for-Security-and-Surveillance). It works as a guard/policeman and is very efficient at its job. It is well-trained, disciplined, and even kind of scary to its clients and coworkers.  However, this is its 'job mode.' This is exactly why it behaves and talks like a robot during his shift—I guess you can call it a coping mechanism. During work hours it must always be ready to jump into action and sometimes behave in a violent way. It must fight and act aggressively to protect people, but in reality he's a gentle and kind soul known as Adam—the name his mother gave to him. By 'pulling a switch,' Adam allows himself to quickly shut off any emotions or feelings that might get in the way and become M. O. N. O.  The module itself was created by his father, who always taught his son to be not just a man, but a brave soldier.  Adam is afraid that one day M. O. N. O won't turn off in time and it will result in a serious accident, but so far things go well. I actually didn't have much lore for him, but the more I think, the more I like him. His neck is supposed to be a pole completely covered with wires, but I don't have the skill to depict this.  M. O. N. O has a full vision on all of its cameras. If it loses its vision on all three cameras, it will be able to fully see with the fourth one.
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Hunter Hunter (same name as the surname AND the fan itself is called Hunter as well lol) is a former host of a controversial show, 'Thrill of the Hunt,' and a reporter and a journalist who currently works at Dialtown News Network.  He is just 23 years old, but has been through a lot because of his former workplace. Extreme sports, spider-scorpion-beetle-eating, stupid but crazy challenges, near-death experiences, and so on. This continued until the last episode, when the stakes became so high for everyone that he couldn't take it anymore. He got injured, more mentally, but also physically, left the channel, and his hometown to find some peace in a quiet and seemingly peaceful Dialtown. Hunter is an introvert who is not afraid to talk to people but gets tired of long, empty chatter. He can be seen as cynical and cold, and he is to some extent. He thinks pretty highly of himself and is fixated on an idea of improving his mind and body and meeting people who are on the same or higher level than his. He also heavily implies that he's normal and definitely-not-freaky, but... do you believe people who say that? His main hobby is gardening; he keeps a small company of plants at home and takes care of an ant farm and his hissing cockroach, Ashley III, who is named after his school crush. He often goes for one-night stands and avoids deep relationships as he's still holding on to the idea that one day he'll meet Ashley again and they'll fall in true love. I have more info on Hunter, but I'm not sure if anyone is interesting, so I don't wanna bother translating it. He is my 'main' OC, so I hope you like him too!
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+ some artworks from my dear mates @karfecc-dreamer and @alexzahhak!! Hunter being handsome in a suit (he almost always wears those, actually), Hunter being...uhh...examined by Gingi, I guess, and a chibi-smol-bean Huntw aww how c00t!
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haggishlyhagging · 1 year ago
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"The housewife is a nobody," says Philip Slater, and almost everyone agrees. Her work is menial labor. Even more status-degrading is the unpaid nature of her job. Few deny the economic as well as the sociological importance of housework and homemaking. Housework is part of the great infrastructure on which, as David Riesman has reminded us, the entire superstructure of the economy and the government rests. If women did not supply the services of taking care of the living arrangements of workers, industry would have to do so, as in the case of lumber camps, ships, and the military. But housewives are not in the labor force. They are not paid for the services that they perform.
The low status of the wife's work has ramifications all through her marriage. Since her husband's work is not only higher in status but usually competitive, as hers is not, and he has to meet certain clothing and grooming standards or lose his job, his needs have to be catered to. If there has to be a choice, his new suit is more important than hers. This, quite apart from whatever personal or institutional prestige his work confers, tends to put him in a position of status superiority to the wife.
Housework is a dead-end job; there is no chance of promotion. One cannot grow in it. There is a saying that passes as wit to the effect that Washington is full of talented men and the women they married when they were young. The couple who began their marriage at the same stages of their development find themselves far apart in later years. "Persons who took the initiative in seeking divorce," Nelson Foote has noted, "in explaining their experience, and likewise observers of broken marriages, speak frequently of a mate's having outgrown the other. It is the husband who usually outgrows the wife." Not only does the wife not grow, but the nonspecialized and detailed nature of housework may actually have a deteriorating effect on her mind, as Mary Roberts Coolidge observed long ago, rendering her incapable of prolonged concentration on any single task. No wonder that after hours of passive, often solitary, absorption in television and radio soap operas, she comes to seem dumb as well as dull.
-Jessie Bernard, The Future of Marriage
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gabessquishytum · 1 year ago
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Omegaverse Pornstars
Both Hob and Dream are pornstars for their different sceondary genders - they've never worked together for reasons, but lately their companies have been discussing getting their highest earners/biggest stars together for a video or two, depending on if the have chemistry.
It's generally pretty "easy" to be an alpha or omega pornstar - outside of heats+ruts, there is a very low chance of getting pregnant; heats & ruts are super regular after your first and the work is unlikely to throw a performer into either state,,,unless they somehow are meeting/with their "true mate". And honestly, true mates, made the hell up! The perfect person for you,,*scoff* both Dream and Hob having been having sex as a job for long enough that getting slick or throwing a knot is just work -- there is no magic to it.
Well,, the first day of the first shoot, Hob and Dream get a whiff of each other and ALL BETS ARE OFF. The cameras start rolling and it's maybe 5 minutes after they kiss for the first time that heat and rut hit them hard -- is it a win for the Porn companies to have a recording of true mates 1st time? Because it's not like they could be separated without someone losing a limb.
Ooo this is great, i actually haven't even considered porn in an omegaverse universe before! And I always love talking about porn au stuff!!
Dream is an alpha, and there's absolutely no mistaking him for anything else. He's slim, but there's hard muscle framing his entire body, and his stamina is legendary. He's incredibly popular not just for his appearance but for his voice. He has an alpha voice like no other, one that gets through the screen to his viewers. He says cum? Every omega watching cums on the spot. It's a talent that's got Dream to the heights of his industry and he pretty much calls the shots on his career now.
No one really expected Hob to be popular in the omega porn industry, but they were all wrong. The videos where Hob is tamed and forced to submit for an alpha always go viral. He's not particularly pretty, but hes got a very nice cunt, a very nice mouth, and there's just something about him that reels alphas in. Some say it's the way he makes eye contact with the camera. Some say it's because he looks like he's enjoying himself. Maybe it's because deep down, everyone knows that he's truly untamable.
Or so it seems, until that fateful day when he and Dream catch each other's scent. Even when the footage is edited together it's possible to see the shock in Hob’s eyes. Because he's on his hands and knees before he can even blink, presenting for his alpha and displaying his throat to be marked. It isn't acting or playing pretend anymore. Dream is right there, pressing against him and nuzzling his scent glands and Hob is purring in response! He has never, ever purred for an alpha before. But he wants this one. This gorgeous alpha with the sharp blue eyes is Hob’s, and if he doesn't get his knot in a few minutes he's going to stop presenting and start demanding.
Dream is mostly fogged up in his rut but he is also so charmed by this warm, gorgeous omega who has obviously never really submitted to anyone in his entire life. Dream thinks he's wonderful. He knows Hob’s work, just like Hob knows his, and he has high hopes for their compatability! But he should probably get his knot inside his omega before Hob stops purring and starts biting, right?
Dream and Hob do allow the company to release (part of) the recording, but only because they want to use it as a way to announce to their partnership: in both life, and work. Neither of them wants to give up their job and the solution is simple. They'll just film with each other!
Dream using his alpha voice to force bratty, unruly omega Hob to cum is going to be very popular indeed.
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