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ellecdc · 3 months ago

Note

Hey I have a request:

Could you do poly marauders but Sirius and reader prank James and Remus by saying she is pregnant and then she finds out she is actually pregnant and they don't believe her straight away.

You don't have to if you don't want to.

Thank you ❤️

hi sweets! so I ended up changing this a litttllllee bit simply because I wasn't comfortable writing about joking re: pregnancy [just cuz it's a sensitive topic for many]. but I hope I did the rest of the request justice! <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is not pranking them right now [1.7k words]

CW: pregnancy tests, reader is pregnant, everyone is surprised but generally happy about the pregnancy

You supposed you shouldn’t be entirely surprised that this is how the boys would react; it probably did seem suspicious that this would come up now.

Now being that the four of you were in the middle of a sort of prank war.

No, not sort of, it was a full out prank war, no holds barred.

It had started when James and Remus convinced you and Sirius that the two of you had locked you all out of your flat, forcing Sirius (with James’ help) to have to shove you up the fire escape and crawl through the window, hauling Sirius up behind you only to find Remus sitting casually in his chair and James bursting through the front door laughing.

“That doesn’t even make sense, you guys.” Sirius grumbled as he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his eyes and you swept cobwebs out of your hair. “James had to work just as hard as we did to get in.”

“No,” James countered, “I got to touch Y/N’s bum as we hoisted her up, and then got to watch your arms flex as you climbed up after her.”

Then, as retribution, you and Sirius took their phones and changed the name of every single one of their contacts to Dennis Quaid.

In retaliation, Remus and James taped fake spiders behind the lampshades, and one evening you’d been walking into the living room with a bowl of popcorn when Remus asked Sirius to turn the lamp on, resulting in an ear splitting screech from Sirius and a sea of popcorn littering the floor.

Cling wrap was added to the tops of shampoo bottles before the tops were recapped, causing more than a few shower meltdowns. The sugar for tea was replaced with salt. Blow up dolls were hidden behind doors. Furniture was moved several inches to the left. Picture frames throughout your home were replaced with images of Steve Buscemi.

It was fun, it was harmless, it was good natured. Did it result in Sirius shouting profanities after coming face to face with an inflatable clown? Sure. Did Remus spit his tea out and curse and mutter under his breath in Welsh when he had to go and make himself another cup? Yeah. Did James demand his mother prove to him that she wasn’t really Dennis Quaid by facetiming him? Absolutely, and the mischievous glint in Euphemia’s eyes was a prize in and of itself.

So while you didn’t necessarily blame them for being suspicious of you, you were a little insulted that they thought you would take it this far.

You’d been feeling extremely lethargic lately, and when that lethargy was followed by full body aches, you had chalked it up to an oncoming period. Except that period never came.

It never came.

But the two pink lines did.

“Oh my god…” You whispered, plastic in one hand as you covered your mouth in a silent gasp with the other. “Oh my god.” You repeated, slightly louder as you all but stumbled out of the ensuite into your bedroom.

“I know it was you, Sirius!” You heard Remus shout from down the hall.

“I swear to God, I didn’t touch the remote.” Sirius laughed.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” James' voice retorted, rising in volume as he made his way down the hall towards your shared room. “Angel, do you know where Sirius hid the remote?”

You were frozen in the middle of the room with your hand still covering your mouth as you stared down at the positive pregnancy test in your hand.

“Angel?” James asked quietly as he moved towards you. “Are you alright?”

A breath left your lips but you found that you couldn’t bring yourself to form an intelligent response.

Your view of the test quickly included James’ socked feet in front of yours and a gentle hand on your wrist so he could see what you were holding. “Wha-” he began, though fell silent when the fact that you were holding a pregnancy test was undeniable.

“Oh fuck, that’s a good one.” He let out with a breath, laughing as he backed away from you. “Fuckin’ hell, you almost had me there for a moment.”

“Nice try, Sirius!” He called as he exited your room, leaving you standing there with your mouth open and your heart in your stomach.

“Nice try, what?” You heard Sirius call back as you mindlessly followed James out of the room and towards the living room; limbs working on autopilot as your brain was reduced to a steady chant of oh my god oh my god ohmygod ohmygodohmygodohmy-

“What? Was the whole remote thing just a bit?” James chuckled as he reclaimed his spot on the love seat and Sirius’ brows furrowed where they were pointed down at the phone in his hand.

“A bit for what? And for the last time, I didn’t hide the remote.”

“So we still don’t know where the sodding remote is?” Remus grumbled as he stood from his chair and started moving all of the cushions again.

“Come on, spill; the jig is up.” James continued. “It didn’t work.”

“James.” You tried, but your throat was so tight that his name only came out as a silent whimper.

“What didn’t work?” Sirius asked again, finally looking up at James from his phone.

“The pregnancy test.” James replied, causing Remus to pause in his cushion wrangling to look at him in bemusement.

“Wh- what? What pregnancy test? What is he talking about?” Sirius rapid fired as he turned his gaze to you, standing from his seat but not making any moves to approach you.

Another helpless sound fell from your lips as you shrugged at Sirius helplessly; one hand still holding the test, the other hand still covering your mouth.

“Wait, what is going on?” Remus asked as he returned to his full height, James shaking his head in admonishment as he moved to stand beside him.

“These two think they’re so clever, pranking us with a pregnancy test.”

Remus let out a snort, but James’ explanation seemed to restart Sirius’ brain as he rushed over to you in two large strides before pulling your hand closer to him so he could read the test.

“Pregn- babe?” He barely managed to spit out, moving his gaze from the test to your face when you didn’t answer.

You shrugged helplessly at him again which seemed to tell him all he needed to know as he loosened his grip on your wrist, though he didn’t let go, before tracing soothing circles over your pulse point with his thumb.

“Did you splurge on acting lessons, Sirius? You look like you’re about to pass out.” Remus chuckled, though his face fell dramatically when you finally looked over at him with tears pooling in your eyes.

“Whoa, whoa whoa, hey, dovey. What’s going on?” He started as he moved across the room, James not far behind him.

“I-” You tried, but the next sound that left your lips was a sob.

“Oh, oh. Oh my god….oh my god, it’s not a prank at all, is it?” James whispered mostly to himself, though you shook your head at him anyways causing a few tears to finally fall from your lash line.

“Oh my god, angel, I’m so sorry, I- I can’t believe I laughed at you. Fuck, oh my god, I-”

The next thing you knew, the test was being plucked from your hand rather gently before it was passed to James to look at again, and Remus pulled both of your hands away from your body and wrapped them around himself.

“Sirius.” James whispered and when you turned to look, Sirius was leaning against James to get a better look at the test cradled in his hands. “Sirius, Sirius…”

Sirius let out an emotional laugh as he shoved his face into James’ shoulder, tears of his own falling down his cheeks as James wrapped one of his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him closer.

“Dovey.” Remus hissed as he took your face in his hands. “Is…is this real? Is- are you really pregnant?”

You nodded as you swallowed before finally finding your voice. “I…I think so. It looks like it.”

James let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob as he rubbed Sirius’ back roughly.

Remus laughed wetly and pressed more than a few kisses to your face.

“Oh my god.” Sirius laughed as he wiped tears away from his face. “I’m sorry they didn’t believe you, babe. That- oh my god.” He said as he pulled you from Remus’ grasp and into his. “You’re fucking phenomenal.”

“I haven’t even done anything yet.” You laughed into his shoulder as you watched Remus and James share a kiss behind him.

“Are you kidding? Fuck, oh my god… I can’t believe this.” He whispered as he pulled away from you, only far enough that he could place his hands on your waist and look at your not at all rounded belly.

“We almost missed hearing the best news of our lives over a remote.” James laughed from where he was tucked into Remus’ side.

“It’s on top of the refrigerator.” You sniffled.

“You bastards.” Remus groaned before he and James yanked you and Sirius over to join their hug.

“Wait.” James paused as he lifted his head to level you and Sirius with a look. “The remote was the prank, right? Not this?”

“Not this, Jamie.” You agreed quickly. “Not this.”

He let out a relieved sigh and looked close to tears again. “You just wait until we get you back.”

“No, you can’t prank me anymore; I’m pregnant and sensitive.” You whined, causing Sirius to bark a laugh, James to huff, and Remus to snort.

“Alright…” Remus offered as he narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “You’ve won this round.”

“I think we might have to call it a tie, Moons.” James whispered as you felt a loving hand settle on your stomach.

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thelostconsultant · 5 months ago

Text

Puppy love

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: During his karting days, you were one of his opponents, but outside the track he was just a stupid boy who fell in love with a pretty girl. Now, after all those years, you meet again in the paddock, and he doesn't want you to leave.

note: Yes, Jos is an asshole in this (too).

“Have you seen who jumped in to do the interviews?” Charles asked with a wicked smile when he stopped next to his rival after the race. Max hadn’t really paid attention to these details until now, but now that he was informed there was something he should probably know, he looked around to see where the reporter was. “I haven’t talked to her since your dad ruined her career. But she seems truly happy now.”

That’s when his eyes fell on you, the girl who had been haunting him in his dreams for long years, the one who was glowing while talking to the cameraman. He wanted to object, he wanted to say “my dad didn’t ruin her career, she just decided to quit,” but the way you had left certainly hinted at a possible connection between the two events. Because his father’s outburst took place a week before he found out you weren’t coming back to race, and you didn’t even try to contact him ever again.

What made it real hard was the fact he knew you were left heartbroken, and it wasn’t racing that you missed. His mother called your parents to ask them about you, and they said you had been crying in your room for days, but when the option for a call from Max came up, they were quick to shut it down. They said it would be easier for you to move on if he didn’t show up in your life again, and he couldn’t help but blame himself for everything that happened.

If he hadn’t fallen in love with you, if he hadn’t met you on a vacation, if his father hadn’t found out he loved someone, maybe you would still be racing. He remembered your bright smile that was present even after a tough race, and your good mood that was often highly contagious. The boys you raced against loved you dearly, mostly because you brought a different energy into their little boys’ club.

“Max, you’re next,” he was told all of a sudden.

He wasn't ready to face you, but there was no escape. What he had to do now was force a smile on his face and act like he was talking to someone else, someone whose presence didn't affect him half as much as yours did. But the moment he stopped in front of you and noticed a strange glint in your eyes, he had to focus on breathing in and out while you asked your first question.

After the camera was turned off, he cautiously watched you to see if you were planning to approach him, or if you seemed open to the possibility of him doing that. When you looked at him with a smile and said goodbye to the cameraman, he walked over to you with his hand folded behind his back.

“It's nice to see you here,” he said with a small, cautious smile. You nodded, but Max could see behind the cheerful look on your face, he could tell you were tense. “If I'm bothering you, just say it.”

You took a deep breath, and soon your smile changed, and it was now showing a lot more sadness. “It's been a while, that's all. Talking to you in person brings back different memories,” you admitted.

“Good or bad ones?”

Following a shrug, you folded your arms over your chest and looked down at your shoes. “Compared to the ones that come back when I see you or Charles on TV? Bad,” you finally replied.

Max gulped upon hearing this, feeling guilty despite knowing he had done nothing wrong, that whatever happened back in the day was the result of a series of decisions made by your parents. If it was up to him, he would have kept in touch with you, doing his best to see where this puppy love would lead the two of you. Maybe you would have broken up after he got into F1, maybe you would be married by now. It was a question he had no answer to.

The best he could do now was trying to make you understand this, making you see that he wanted to fix things now, even if you would be nothing more than friends. Sure, he had no idea how much you had changed over the years, but he knew there was only one way to find out. “I know it means very little after all these years, but I’m sorry,” he said to break the deafening silence.

You nodded, then to his surprise, took a step closer to him. “I know it wasn’t your fault. My parents told me what happened exactly eventually.”

He watched you closely, trying to figure out if you were interested in a proper conversation, maybe later in private. But before he could speak up, Charles walked over to the two of you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder with a big smile on his face. “It’s been so long,” he said happily, earning a shy smile and a barely visible shake of your head from you.

Max bit the inside of his cheek, annoyed by the sudden appearance of the Ferrari driver, but the main problem was a vivid memory from his childhood. While him and Charles had gone for blood on the track and didn’t have the best relationship off it either, you and the Monegasque were on very good terms, with you even visiting him and his family in his home. It didn’t bother him until his brain finally caught up with his feelings and he realized he had a crush on you, because then he felt intense jealousy every time his rival laid a finger on you, even if it was nothing more than a friendly pat on the shoulder.

You then suddenly moved to give him a hug, and seeing the way Charles wrapped his arms around you made his blood boil, even if he knew deep down that he had no right to be jealous. But it was painfully obvious that the two of you were talking to each other, keeping your voices down as much as you could in the noise around you, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it was all about.

Then he finally let go of you and said goodbye, although the two of you agreed to have dinner in Italy next week to catch up. Max took a deep breath and thought about what to say, but before he could come up with anything, an official came over to drag him to the cooldown room, so all he could do was apologize and say goodbye, wishing he could see you again next week. According to Charles you were supposed to be there in Monza, which meant he would have the chance to talk to you.

To properly talk to you and possibly find out more about your life after you quit racing.

He knew in the cooldown room they were supposed to talk about the race, but all he could think about was asking Charles what you talked about, what was so secretive that no one else could hear it? So, in the end he didn’t say much, he just watched the recap of the race and discussed what he saw if it was standing out. Even while standing on the podium, his eyes scanned the crowd under them, trying to find you as if he was playing Where’s Wally?

On the way home, he spent his time browsing your social media accounts, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he had never checked them. On X, you were posting about F1 news, commenting on them as a journalist, while on Instagram you focused on sharing more personal posts, like photos of your holiday, your hobbies, or yourself in the paddock. There had been so many of those, how come he hadn’t met you before?

Having a glimpse into your life felt so nice that he hadn’t realized he had scrolled back a few years. Well, not until it turned out he accidentally liked a few of your old photos. If you hadn’t seen the notifications, he wouldn’t have noticed that. But you saw them and weren’t shy to send him a DM about it.

The next few days passed with him regularly checking his DMs to see if you wrote to him again, if you changed your mind and decided to have dinner with him, but there was nothing, so he was forced to wait for the perfect opportunity to talk to you in the paddock in Italy. How he would find you in the flurry of people was a mystery, although he had a fleeting idea that maybe their PR team could help him get a hold of you. Not like that could work, a request like this would certainly give them a stroke, assuming he was planning to give a random interview.

His heart skipped a beat when he noticed you at the press conference, talking to some of the drivers behind the cameras. Your eyes were shining brightly, your smile lit up the room around you, and Max felt like he had been taken back to his childhood when all the boys at their karting races swarmed around you to get a scrap of your attention. But those were hormone-driven teenagers, while these guys were grown men, many of them in serious relationships, so he knew it wasn’t entirely the same situation.

This time Max made sure he could stick around after the interviews, hoping to get a hold of you once you were done. He approached you after everyone left and you decided to chat with someone from the crew. He cleared his throat nervously, subconsciously expecting you to yell at him, to tell him to leave you alone. But your poker face was perfect, because you turned to him with a kind smile and acted like you were ready to have a pleasant chat with him. The crew member left you alone, so only the two of you were left there.

“You either don’t understand the word no, or you just learned to completely ignore it because you always get what you want,” you said with a sigh, the smile long gone by now.

He let the last part of the comment go past his ear, instead he just took a deep breath and began to massage the back of his neck. “Can’t we have a pleasant conversation? Just put everything aside, forget about our shared past, and let’s treat this as a chance for a fresh start.”

You watched him with a thoughtful hum for a while, then nodded. “All right. What would you like to talk about?” you asked with a curious look in your eyes.

“Us.”

“There’s no such thing as us.”

“Too bad, because that’s exactly what I want,” he was quick to inform you, mentally kicking himself for being this straightforward, even if it was true. Because he wanted to see if you would be interested in the 2.0 version of your relationship, the chance to see how your young love would work out in your adult lives. “Are you seeing anyone?”

For a moment you hesitated, but then you shook your head. “No. I don’t really have the time for that,” you replied honestly. Before Max could speak up again, though, you began to talk once more. “But I’m a reporter here, dating a driver would be… unethical. I can’t play favorites,” you explained.

Max took a quick look around, then gently placed a hand on your cheek. “We can figure that out later. Let’s focus on step one, which is going on a first date. Tonight? We can turn to room service to help us out if you don’t want to meet somewhere public,” he told you.

“So you want me all to yourself in your hotel room?” you asked with a teasing smile.

He was sure as hell he blushed, because the idea of what you were suggesting hadn’t occurred to him. Having you alone in his hotel room wasn’t something he consciously planned out, he only wanted to meet you somewhere away from the curious eyes. “It’s not like that,” he told you defensively.

“I know, don’t worry. Send me the when and where,” you said as you patted his shoulder. “See you later, Max.”

Nodding, he watched as you walked away from him. He didn’t say a word–no, he couldn’t say a word. His brain was too busy replaying the way his name rolled off your tongue, that sweet, soft tone of your voice as you said goodbye. With his mind still lost in a pink haze, he returned to their motorhome to gather his things and call it a day. He couldn’t wait to meet you, that was all he could focus on.

A few hours later he was sitting on the edge of his bed, his foot nervously tapping on the floor while he waited. You could be here any minute, and waiting was the worst part. Well, maybe the conversation wouldn’t be that much better, but he could still hope for the best. So when half an hour later there was a knock on his door, his lips curled into a wide smile and he rushed over there to let you in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was held up in the media center,” you apologized the moment the door closed behind you.

Max had to take a deep breath to calm himself. You being close to him again brought back feelings he thought he had long forgotten, and he wanted to give you a kiss, a soft kiss to test the waters with you. But he had to behave, he had no idea where the two of you were standing right now. “It’s okay, don’t worry. So, dinner?” he asked after a short break, giving you a smile.

Food seemed to get you in the mood to chat, because as the two of you enjoyed the various dishes he ordered, you started to tell him about your life after everything that had happened back then. You finished high school like a normal kid, went to college to study journalism, and you managed to get jobs at various places that were related to motorsports, especially F1. That was your dream, to once work with this world, but you were quick to clarify knowing he made it here didn’t give you the idea.

He tried to hide the cocky smirk that wanted to show up on his face, because he was sure what you said weren’t true. A voice in the back of his mind told him you wanted to see him again, that you wanted to get back what had been taken from the two of you all those years ago. After all, why wouldn’t he think that? It didn’t take much convincing to get you to meet him tonight. And if he was delusional? At least it was a nice thought.

It was then his turn to talk, so he told you stories that you had probably never heard, about himself, about the grid, about everything, really. If you asked questions about his family, you focused on his sister and mother, but you were mostly interested in his cats and hobbies. As you told him, you couldn’t understand how he ended up being such a cat dad, but it certainly suited him.

“Charles said he doesn’t get murderous thoughts about you several times a day lately,” you suddenly noted with a short laugh.

Clearing his throat, Max tilted his head to the side. “You talked to him?” he asked casually.

You nodded and took another bite of your pasta. “Yeah, we had dinner yesterday. I remember how the two of you were back then, I was wondering what the situation was now,” you said with a shrug.

A wide grin crept on his face upon hearing this. “So you asked him about me.”

“It was just one question, don’t get too cocky,” you pointed out with a roll of your eyes. “But I’m glad you kinda get along now. It’s nice to see that.”

Max flashed a smile at you, then returned his attention to his dinner. For a while you both ate in silence, but then you got rid of the plates and he found himself wondering what to do next. So he just looked down at his hand and moved it closer to yours, letting his little finger brush against yours as if you were back in your teenage years. You let out a laugh when you noticed, and you looked at him with a kind smile. You weren’t as cold as you had been earlier today, now you seemed to have warmed up to him, ready to give him a chance to show you what he wanted.

So, he took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss you, cautiously moving his lips against yours to make sure he didn’t scare you away. It took you a few seconds, but you eventually eased into the kiss, one of your hands even moving up to his face to keep him close. He couldn’t hold back a quiet chuckle that drew a questioning hum out of you. Max shook his head, then he dived in to kiss you again, but at the same time he let his hand wander under your shirt, even though he could have expected what happened next.

Because you pulled away and pushed his hand away from your body. “Stop, don’t… I shouldn’t even be here, I should just go, and–”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t do this, don’t push me away. I’m sorry. If you want to slow down, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do, okay?” he asked you, his voice desperate. For a minute or two you remained completely silent, you were just watching him with doe eyes, as if you were trying to process what just happened. “Please, just stay,” he said quietly.

You hesitantly took his hand and gulped loudly as you gathered your thoughts. “Listen, it’s complicated. I already told you, I shouldn’t date drivers, but,” you began, but fell silent without finishing the sentence.

Max cupped your face and rested his forehead against yours. “One step at a time, all right? We’ll figure out if this could even work between us, then we’ll decide how to move on,” he said with a soft smile. When you nodded, he kissed your nose. “Good. Do you want to stay with me and cuddle a little, or would you rather go?”

“We just cuddle, right?” you asked with a thin voice. When he nodded, you let out a soft sigh. “Okay, just for a little while, then I’ll leave.”

But you didn’t leave. The next morning he woke up to you sleeping soundly with your head on his chest, snoring softly while you were lost in your dream world. Max couldn’t stop grinning, he was way too excited and happy to keep a straight face. It felt so nice, so natural, that he wondered how long you would be against it. You clearly wanted this as much as he did, but if you needed time, he was willing to give it to you.

As you lay there, he remembered that vacation all those years ago, when your parents not-so-accidentally bumped into his mom. His first date in a local cinema, watching a movie that was dubbed and neither of you could fully understand it. His first kiss in that movie theater with a girl that was special enough to catch his attention. The way you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder one night when your parents talked a little too long in a restaurant on the beach.

And he was hell-bent on going back to that town to experience everything again as adults. All he needed was you softening enough to let him take care of you in front of the whole world.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 5 months ago

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your boyfriend has a little habit of being sort of..spacey. or at least he looks like he is.

despite his..ditzy and aloof appearance. shouto is very acutely aware of his surroundings.

especially when you’re in said surroundings.

he’s walking along the hallways with his friends, they’re chatting about everything and nothing, school and about the results of their last test. shouto doesn’t feel the need to interject, happy to simply listen and respond when he’s spoken to. except his mind is also kind of elsewhere at the moment because even in there he’s looking for you.

no matter what he’s doing, shouto todoroki has a piece of you in his mind. if his friends are worrying about their test results he’s perfectly fine, cus he studied with you. the letters he sends to his mom talk about his daily life, with little details about you sprinkled in. his father is trying to coerce him into coming to his agency again, shouto thinks it’d be a lot more enjoyable if you were with him.

you’re not with them right now, because mr. aizawa had asked you to send in some papers to the teacher’s lounge. you said you’d catch up with your friends as soon as possible and shouto’s listening, he really is. but he’s also scanning the crowd hoping to catch a little glimpse of you.

“what about you, todoroki ?”

shouto blinks, hearing his name come out of his freckled friend’s lips as he blinks at him expectantly with a smile. ochaco and iida also seem to be awaiting a response.

okay, so maybe he hadn’t been listening as well as he claimed..

“i’m sorry. i didn’t catch that last part, what were you saying ?” he asks bluntly, midoriya doesn’t mind and he repeats “i was asking you how you think your test went.” he chirps, shouto hums thinking about the question.

“i studied well for it, so i think it went well,” his friends hum, iida congratulates him for staying focused on his academics, waving his hand around in chopping motions.

and of course, shouto is always looking for you, so nobody’s surprised when he adds “yn also helped me study, so i think i’ll be..”

everyone is surprised though when he suddenly trails off. and without another word shouto walks ahead of his friends further down the crowded hallway. the lack of “oh, give me a second.” or “ i’ll be right back.”, the lack of anything stuns the three students so hard they freeze into place. they wonder what could’ve made him speed off in such a hurry, until ochaco gets a good look and points towards the dual haired boy.

ah, shouto’s found you.

you’re surprised to see him, your eyes widen “oh, hey sho !” he returns your greeting, his face hasn’t really changed from an outsiders point of view, but he leans in towards you the moment the words leave your lips and his whole face has gone soft, almost pudgy when you smile at him.

“i didn’t except to see you, you scared me !”

he blinks at that, shock settles onto his face as he bows his head in shame “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to..” simple, but earnest and it makes you melt.

“oh no, no ! you just popped up outta nowhere and it surprised me is all, got nothing to be sorry about.” you reassured, shouto’s expression changes and he returns, nodding happily.

“i missed you.”

you snort “i was gone for at most 10 minutes, shouto.”

“it was 11 minutes. and i missed you during that one extra minute, too.” if he had a tail, it’d be wagging at the speed of sound the way his face brightens when you laugh. you call him unbelievable and a small smile grows on his face

he’s just about to ask if you need help with your bag when you suddenly wave behind him. at your friends, who all share a sort of teasing, but also absolutely not surprised look.

oh, woops..

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liver-f4ilure · 3 months ago

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The Irkutsk Molotochniki: AKA The Academy Maniacs (BIG info post)

NOTE: Haiii!! Sorry I haven’t been posting, I got a life! I’ve been writing this since AUGUST! But took a 3 month break. I kinda rushed the trial but everything else comes from Russian articles! <3

Early Life

Artyom Alexandrovich Anoufriev

RUSSIAN: Артём Александрович Ануфриев

Born October 4th, 1992, in Irkutsk Russia to mother Nina Ivanovna Anoufrieva and no father had been described positively by classmates despite being an outcast and his hard home life. Including a family friend who had known him ‘from the cradle’ who characterized Artyom as “Artyom is a good-natured boy, polite, I’ve never heard a bad word from him,”. According to his headmaster his mother had taught time to hate people and give given bad grades, would try coerce the teacher into psychologically pressuring her son. Artyom had good grades especially in English and literature, he had also shown interest in music and took lessons for the guitar and double bass. He had also joined, sang and played in a local music group before the groups organizer left.

Artyom as a kid

During his older years Artyom started to mature and became more out going while his grades deteriorated. He shortly graduated high school with sufficiency. In his senior year his class filmed a farewell video, in which everyone gave their opinion on what happiness meant to them. In the video Artyom answer was: "To be honest, I do not know what happiness is. But I would really like to quickly find out what it is.".

After graduation Artyom went onto Irkutsk State Medical University while working at an art museum.

Three months before his arrest Artyoms neighbours reported hearing yelling and banging on the walls, like he was hitting the wall with his fists or running at it full speed. Artyom would yell “I hate everybody” and “I will kill you”. During the investigation Artyom would admit that at times his relationship with his mother was strained, and that he’d fear he wouldn’t be able to prevent himself from killing her. According to Artyoms lawyer, Svetlana Kokareva, he often talked negatively about his mother and called her ‘defective’ as well as a generally negative attitude towards women. Nikita also reportedly experienced similar: his depression worsened, he stopped communication with family and he started experiencing insomnia.

Nikita Vakhtangovich Lytkin

RUSSIAN: Никита Вахтангович Лыткин

Born March 24th, 1993, in Irkutsk Russia to his mother Marina, who worked at a shoe store and to a father who left the family shortly after Nikita was born. His father than married another woman who died shortly after and whose son committed suicide in the wake of his mothers death. Nikita’s father would return but leave after due to his depression from his deceased ex wife. During Nikita’s childhood he would come and go. Many accounts say Nikita was bullied at school and instead of standing up for himself he would just reply with “die.” Because of this, Nikita was given the nickname ‘Jimbo’ as a reference to Jimbo Jones, a bully from ‘the simpsons’.

Nikita as a kid

During junior high Nikita would do very well at studying and had good marks, he did not like math very much and in 5th grade was assigned to a special math class do to poor test results. Besides his good grades, Nikita was unsociable and uncommunicative. One family friend says this is because Nikita was jealous of his classmates with richer families. Because of his poor socialization Nikita started losing relations to friends.

Nikita’s childhood home

Meeting

At a mutual friends birthday party Nikita (10) and Artyom (11) met, with the two studying at the same school but one studying a grade higher. The two quickly grew close and Nikita fell into a deep depression, only trusting Artyom at the time, the two supported each other. Artyoms mother did not support the twos friendship and stated that she thought Nikita would have a bad influence on her son. However, after graduating Artyom would continue to study and even enroll into medical school unlike Artyom, Nikita did not. In several reports Nikita either dropped out of school or got expelled for insufficient grades.

During their friendship the started a punk-rock band called ‘Злые гномы’ the band didn’t last long but in 2008 the band was able to put out an album called ‘Чёрные полосы крови’ (AKA. Black Streaks Of Blood) the pair soon started another band, a noise band, named ‘Расчленённая ПугачОва’ or ‘Dissected PugachOva’.

Violent Interests

The duo both had a common interest of maniacs and murderers. The most relevant being the Irkutsk ‘Blood Money Gang’ in March of 2010. The gang being led by 22-year-old Konstantin Shumkov. Shumkov though he was expelled from his educational institution, wanted to work with children. He gathered a group of teenagers from dysfunctional families to kill 5 homeless people and attack 3 others in 2009. The pair followed the news very closely and even dedicated an album to the gang with songs like “Killing is cool!”, “Massacre at a maternity hospital” and “I killed a homeless man”. Nikita also reportedly made a social media group out of sympathy for the gangs leader named ‘Irkutsk Anti Bom-Gang: Blood Magic’ in the introduction fornthe group the group declares their hopes to continue Shumkovs work.

“The "Dismembered PugachOva" group will continue the work of the "Blood Magic" not only in the musical sense, but also in the real sense. [...] There is no place for posers in our group. Only those who decide the fate of cattle or are only going to start serious actions are allowed. If you are determined, you are here.”

As well, they would most videos of the murders in the groups and told the members to ‘abandon empty posturing and commit at least one murder’

You may wonder how people didn’t think of that as a red flag, well, many visitors thought that the videos they posted were staged and that they were ‘young liars and braggots’.

The two made other social media groups such as "We are gods", "Pichushkin - our president" a reference to a fellow Russian serial killer and "Dissected Pugachova"in reference to their band by the same name. However I could not find what exactly they posted.

Possible Motives

There are a few theories on what the duos motives were, one theory is that they were pushed by Nationalist propaganda. Since for a while Artyom was apart of a white power skinhead group and given the nickname “Fashik- Natsik”. From Artyoms suggestion Nikita would converse online with the skinheads but was ultimately denied part in the group due to his discrediting Ossetian patronymic Vakhtangovich (Iranian-Caucasian decent). Their affiliation with the skinheads didn’t last, as one investigator states ‘they immediately sensed their animal cruelty and rejected them’ another report stated that Artyom felt the groups ideology was ‘too passive and soft’. The then leader of the skinheads ‘Boomer’ stated later in court that ‘Anoufriev felt hatred towards everyone, and did not care whom he killed’. After being arrested in the pre-trial detention room Anoufriev made a message that stated:

"I want to apologize to everyone. My advice to parents: forbid your children to visit sites of nationalistic nature in social networks,"

However, the duo isn’t thought to be hate oriented since they didn’t have any nationality in mind. Nor did they care about homeless people or immigrants. Anoufriev and Lytkin simply hated all of humanity all together and even openly stated it. A motive that both Anoufriev and Lytkin confirm is their desire to imitate other serial killers.

According to Anoufriev the idea of murder was Lytkins.and claimed that it, unlike Lytkin, did not give him the satisfaction he had hoped for. He says he only did it “he put it where it wasn’t necessary” and described Lytkin with "I will just say—he is a leader. He did not influence, but was an instigator of crimes,". However, during the investigation Anoufriev stated that he was planning on moving to St.Petersburg and commit more crimes had he not been arrested. Investigator, Yevgeny Karchevsky reports that Lytkin admitted that he couldn’t have done it alone and stated that “it wasn’t interesting to one” and “Artyom and I did it- I liked it”. Lytkin also stated, like Anoufriev, that he would’ve kept killing had he not been caught.

The two stated they would walk from 6pm - 10pm around the “State University” transport stop in Akademgorodok. They would miss 5-20 people while looking for a suitable victim.

Timeline of Crimes

November 14, 2010 - Anoufriev and Lytkin attacked an 18-year-old Anastasia Markovskaya while she was walking from the 19th school bus stop in the way of the Novo-Irkutsky Village. The two tried bashing her head in to which they were in some reports, scared off, while in others she played dead. Markovskaya reported on the Akademgorodok online forum about the attacked. Where Anoufriev and Lytkin responded and asked her how it felt to be beaten.

November 24, 2010 - the pair attacks an unnamed 46-year-old woman, stealing her bag.

December 1, 2010 - the pair attacks a woman, stealing 500 rubles which they used to buy mallets. Later the same day the pair spotted a 12-year-old Danil Semyonov going down a snowy hill on his sled. Nikita initiated a the idea of killing Semyonov to Artyom since he was a weak victim who couldn’t put up a strong Defense. After catching Semyonov Nikita struck him in the back of the head, knocking him down. Artyom then hit him with a baseball bat, Nikita then stabbed Semyonov in the temple with a penknife. Later when Danils mother and bother had found him and had paramedics called to the scene. However, after being caught in a traffic jam, Semyonov was dead before arrival. On Semyonov’s arm was found a hematoma (also known as, a bruise) curating the idea he either fought back or was grabbed roughly. The next day his sled was found in good condition. Semyonovs parents and police didn’t think it was a homicide and instead an accident, that he simply hit a birch tree at high speeds. However later Anoufriev and Lytkin stated that the boy was simply ‘training’ for them. He was the first victim killed.

December 16, 2010 - nearly 20m from the spot Semyonov was killed, a 69-year-old Olga Mikhailovna was found. Olga had been a researcher at the Research Institute for solar and terrestrial physics. The pair killed her quickly unlike Semyonov. She was found with 30 knife wounds. Nikita and Artyom had also made an audio recording discussing how they’d kill her, after which they recorded the murder.

December 29, 2010 - The pair first attacked 29-year-old Valentinovna Svetlova at 6am, who escaped. The pair only took her purse which they then threw out. She miraculously survived her attack. An hour after her attack 22 year-old coach Yekaterina Karpova, Karpova was pregnant during her attack while walking home with her 6-year-old niece Olga Averina. While walking to the railroad Karpova reported that she saw the pair but didn’t engage. While crossing the railroad the two were attacked by Nikita and Artyom, Averina managed to escape with being hit by Nikita in the sides, later being diagnosed with extensive hematoma in the liver area. Karpova had, had her skull crushed in and fingers snapped despite screaming that she was pregnant. The killers were scared off by a car pulling out from around the corner. In result to this, Karpova and her pregnancy miraculously survived.

January 1, 2011 - Around 5am Artyom and Nikita attacked a homeless man who lived near some garbage cans, inflicting 40 hit to him as well as smashing his head in with mallets. He died later in hospital and has been deemed ‘Corpse No.20’ since authorities couldn’t identify the man.

On January 15th a 19-year-old homeless man named Vladimir Bazilevsky, who had bloodied clothes was detained on suspicion of the previous murder. During the interview he told officials that he had spent the night in a sewer well however, officials began to make him believe otherwise and how Bazilevsky put it “Knocked a murder confession” out of him. After more investigation he was wrongfully convicted of murder and in April of 2011 was sentenced to 4 years. After the actual killers were arrested, DNA of the blood on his clothes didn’t match any of the victims. In May of 2012 after serving over a year and a half of prison time, Bazilevsky was released and all charges against him were dropped.

January 30, 2011 - The pair attacked a student named Oleg Semyonov who was returning home from a night club. He survived with head wounds, a concussion and traumatic brain injury.

February 3, 2011 - The pair attacks an unidentified elderly woman whom survived with a head injury.

February 8-9 date unknown, 2011 - At night the pair attacks another woman whom survived due to a passing by car.

February 21, 2011 - While walking home drunk from visiting his sister Alexander Petrovich Maximov was attacked and killed. His jaw and head had been completely broken, as well he had been decapitated with remainders of his skull being found afterwards. Lytkin shot him in the head with a Baikal air pistol and Anoufriev had tried to remove his eyes, but ultimately failed lacking the proper knowledge. Maximov had a closed casket funeral, unable to have an open casket.

February 27, 2011 - Lytkin single-handedly attacked a woman by the name of Nina Kuzmina whom was sitting on a bench located on Lermontov St. Lytkin hit her twice in the head, but because of Kuzmina making a ‘fuss’ a nearby man looking out his window scared Lytkin off, taking the woman’s phone with him. Kuzmina survived.

March 11 , 2011 - On a walkway near the State university bus stop, Anoufriev and Lytkin killed a homeless man by the name of Roman Faizullin. Anoufriev shot him in the face before the pair dragged him behind some bushes and off the street. The pair stabbed Faizullin in the head, chest and groin. Lytkin had attempted to cut the mans hand off but only managed his pinky finger. Later Anoufriev photographed the corpse from his apartment window since it was near.

After this attack a rally was held in the area to discuss what precautions and measures should be put in place. Anoufriev and Lytkin would go to these rallies and meetings, they would share ideas about the killers and would video tape the meetings. By this time police had already figured out that the killer was between ages 16-18 and set up patrol cars that would tour the area to reduce other attacks (which didn’t work). Still in the area there was misinformation which lead to the citizens fearing that the killer was a guy in his 30s.

The pair then gained the name the “Academy Maniacs” via a journalist for the Komsomolskaya Pravda, Olga Lipchinskaya since nobody could identify the boys.

??, 2011 - On an unknown date the pair attacked a homeless woman whom survived the attack due to an off duty police officer seeing the pair from out his window.

??, 2011 - on another unknown date the pair attacked a woman using a screwdriver. Since the place was crowded the pair left and the woman survived.

April 3, 2011 - The last of the pairs crimes. The two killed a 63-year-old homeless woman named Alevtina Kuydina. The woman was killed near a research institute, after killing her the pair filmed a video. On the video, filmed by Anoufriev, Lytkin can be seen cutting the woman’s earlobe off with a knife after being scolded by Anoufriev for not covering the knife in case of finger prints. Lytkin then tried to cut the woman’s hand off and gouge her eyes. When he couldn’t, he instead struck a knife directly into her eye and started stabbing. Later they dropped the woman’s earlobe off at the porch of a school. Anoufriev send the video to an online friend from St.Petersburg named Ilya Ustinov or known as online “Solomon Gojo” who said the video was sluggish he still however, distributed the video online.

Investigation/ Arrests

Investigators and police didn’t suspect the attacks to be from the same people, since the victims had no relation or anything alike. The investigation lasted months while the town was left in fear. But because of the crime spanning in such a small area the police were able to piece together a sketch of the suspects. The portraits were even sent to the workplace of Lytkins grandmother, the institute of organic chemistry, she noticed how the portrait looked eerily similar to her grandson. She sent her son Vladislav, Lytkins uncle, to his house to question Nikita. Once he got there nobody was home, Nikita having gone out for a walk (but suspected victim hunting). Nikita’s uncle however, found the camera he had lended him, on the camera he saw the video that the pair had filmed prior. After discussing, the family handed the video over to police and soon Lytkin was arrested, Anoufriev following shortly after. Prior to the arrest Lytkins mother had found a knife packaged in the hallway or in other sources, his pocket. When asked about the knife he simply stated it was for Defense.

A little piece of Trial

On March 6 of 2013 Lytkin stated that Anoufriev didn’t participate in four of the attacks and instead someone else accompanied him, Lytkin did give names but they were never publicly disposed. Lytkin also stated he had other accomplices however it’s theorized that he made this up to slow down the investigation. One day at the detention centre Lytkin told his mother "Why do they make the devil out of Artyom and I am so white and fluffy? We are both to blame. He is no worse and no better than me, we committed murders together." Anoufriev states that the police pressed Lytkin using threat of solitary. Lytkins grandmother also published an open letter claiming that she blamed Television, democracy, the internet, satanists and pornography for Lytkins corruption.

During the trial each boy had taken a different defence, Lytkin took leniency on him being a minor at the time of the crime and Anoufriev cause he had only pleaded guilty to 1 count of murder.

Sentencing, Transfers & Where they are now

Artyom:

On April 2nd 2013, Irkutsk Regional Court sentenced Anoufriev to life imprisonment in a special regime colony. On January 27th, 2014, Anoufriev was transferred to Ognenny Ostrov in the Vologda Oblast. After transferring, Anoufriev stated in interviews that he did not agree with the sentence and that his family was trying to get him out on parole, as well, he also stated that he was working on a book but did not explain what it was about. And in Febuary of 2017 Anoufriev stated that he had been studying Law at The University of Latvia.

Artyom during the trial in the defendant cage

Nikita:

Also on April 2nd, 2013,Lytkin was sentenced to 24 years imprisonment with 5 of those to be soent in prison. Around October,2013, Lytkins sentenced was reduced to 20 years seeing as he was a minor during the events. Lytkin had made many transfers to prisons including:

Nikita during the trial in the defendants cage

December, 2013- transferred from Irkutsk Colony to Sakha Republic

??, 2015- transferred to Kemerovo Correctional Colony No.41, where a psychologist had discovered he was dealing with a mental disorder

August, 2016- The prison attempted to transfer Lytkin to a psychiatric hospital however, the day before he attacked an inmate ,hoping that he would be transferred to the same colony as Anoufriev, instead on June

1st, 2017, the court ruled he was a dangerous repeat offender and sentenced to 11 years.

??, 2018- Lytkin was transferred to Angarsk Correctional Colony No.7

On the morning of November 28th, 2021, Lytkin was found in his cell with severe self inflicted wounds on his arms. Paramedics rushed him to Angarsk City Hospital, where on November 30th he was pronounced dead. Lytkins inmates stated that he had been subjected to bullying and others state he had threatened to do it when his sentence wasn’t reduced furthermore and when he wasn’t transferred to the same facility as Anoufriev.

#liveralone #tccblr #tc community #tcc columbine #true cringe community #tcc tumblr #eric columbine #recipes by vivi #eric and dylan #dylan columbine #artyom anoufriev #nikita lytkin #nikita and artyom #academy maniacs #the academy maniacs #irkutsk molotochniki #info post

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 month ago

Text

♡ ｓｗｅｅｔｎｅｒ ♡

♡ Pairing: couple!woosan x best friend!fem!reader, best friend!ateez

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/angst

♡ Summary: After a terrible breakup two of your dearest friends welcomed you into their home. Living with them has been a total dream so far, one that has you developing feelings you aren't quite ready to face but, when a dinner with your friend group forces you to confront those feelings, you realize that you might not be the only one who has them.

♡ Word Count: 6.8kish

♡ Warnings: woo and san are indeed a couple, boys kissing, kissing in general, drinking, threesome, lots of praise, unprotected sex, soft dom woosan, oral sex (m&f receving), some clit play, nipple play, nibbling, hickeys, a lil manhandling, double penetration, creampie, swallowing, finger sucking, some booty slaps, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (sweetie, baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), and that's all darlings.

♡ A/N: I really wanted to write a nice, warm lil comfort fic and this was the result of that. As I always say, I hope you sweet baby darlings enjoy this. Especially my WooSan babes out there.

When you first decided to move in with Wooyoung and San everyone warned you that it might not be the best idea. The two of them had been dating for years at that point and, though you knew them just as long, being best friends with a couple is much different than living with one. They had their own habits, their own unique dynamic, and the introduction of a single woman into the mix might have thrown it off in ways that irreversibly damaged your friendship.

For all the worries that people planted into your brain, the reality of the situation was drastically different. From the night you moved your last box into their spare bedroom you felt like you were home. They were doing you a major favor, letting you move in after a terrible breakup with your ex, but they never made you feel like it. Instead they welcomed you with open arms, immediately jumping to do everything in their power to make sure you felt comfortable.

During those first few weeks you made it a point to shrink yourself, not wanting to take up too much space or get in their way. They quickly reassured you that it wasn’t necessary. If they didn’t want you there you wouldn’t have been there. You could take up as much space as you wanted, get in their way whenever you pleased. They were just happy to have you.

Before you knew it the three of you were doing everything together. Cooking each other breakfast before work, curling up on the couch for movie nights, staying up late to talk about whatever popped into your heads. It reached the point that you hardly had to make your own bed because of the endless nights you found yourself dozing off in theirs.

Woo and San always treated you like a princess, living with them wasn’t a requirement for that, but after you moved in it got so much worse. You had to argue them down to let you do dishes or wash your own clothes. You didn’t even try when it came to carrying in bags after grocery shopping. You knew if you did you’d never hear the end of it from either of them. Even now as you sit at the elegantly decorated table of an upscale restaurant—all of your closest friends gathered for the usual Saturday night dinner—they won’t let you lift a finger.

With Woo on one side of you and San on the other, you only have to extend your hand towards something you want and it's yours. A particularly crispy cut of pork belly catches your eye and before you know it Woo’s swooped it up with his chopsticks.

“Woo, you didn’t have to do that” you whisper beneath the chatter of conversation at the table.

“Hmm? Did you say something?” he asks, knowing very well that he heard you. He raises it to your lips, patiently waiting for you to take a bite.

You stare at it for a moment, refusing to eat it solely because of the entertainment that comes with testing Woo’s patience. San drapes his arm over the back of your chair, replenishing the tall crystal glass before you with sweet red wine.

“Eat it or he’ll get all sulky” San teases, cutting his eyes at his boyfriend whose lips have already begun to form a pout.

“I do not get sulky” Woo protests, indeed sulking. He’s cute when he does it, knowledge that he weaponizes every chance he gets.

You and San look at each other, sharing a giggle, before you give in and take a bite. Woo watches as you chew, making sure that you enjoy it. If you don’t he’ll get you another.

“Happy?” you smile once you’re done and Woo nods, returning his attention back to his own plate.

Across the table Hongjoong watches you curiously, something you’ve caught him doing all night. No one else seems to notice but for you it can’t be ignored. The two of you lock eyes and he asks you a question without words. You wish he’d use them, spit out whatever the hell is on his mind already, because the tension’s eating you alive.

“So does anyone know what we’re doing for New Year’s Eve or is it party at Seonghwa’s?” Yunho asks, gesturing for Jongho to hand him a dish.

Seonghwa frowns, his cheeks too packed full of food to speak clearly, “My house? Why my house?”

“Ooh, yeah, then I can come over and touch all your stuff” Mingi says, attempting to swipe some food from Seonghwa’s plate.

Seonghwa slaps him on the back of the hand with his chopsticks, “I’ll kill you.”

“We could all go camping,” Jongho suggests, “I know a really good spot for it.”

The table falls silent with the exception of Yeosang who nods in support of the younger man. “That’s…an idea.”

“We can host this year” San offers, flashing that dimpled smile, “We have the room for it.”

Hongjoong takes a sip of his wine, his icy glare falling upon you and only you. “Are you sure? Don’t you think your apartment’s gotten kinda crowded lately?”

The comment strikes a chord with Woo, his irritation apparent in how swiftly his demeanor shifts. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asks, chewing at his bottom lip.

“Nothing…it’s nothing” Hongjoong laughs, sitting back in his chair, “Maybe I should keep my comments to myself.”

“Maybe you should…” Woo snaps.

San clears his throat, rising from the table before the situation can escalate, “I have to go make a quick call. Baby, could you come with me?”

Woo doesn’t respond and he isn’t pretending to be hard of hearing this time. He and Hongjoong are having a staring contest. A silent war as violent as if someone had thrown a punch.

“Wooyoung!” San says with more bass in his voice this time. It’s enough to snap Woo out of it but he still lingers a moment before getting up himself.

Taking you by the hand, Woo stares down at you, searching your face for any sign that Hongjoong’s words hurt your feelings. “You’ll be okay?”

You nod, presenting him with a smile that you hope soothes him a bit. “I’m okay. Just go.”

San pets your hair, planting a kiss on your forehead, “Be back in a second.”

You watch as San walks Woo outside like a mother about to lay into her child for misbehaving. As calm as you’ve remained all night, you can’t hide your own irritation at the way Hongjoong’s been acting. It isn’t Woo’s fault that he decided to say something so rude. Whatever problem he has with you is with you. Woo and San shouldn’t be a part of it.

Turning back to the table you find that all conversation of a New Year’s Eve celebration has ended. Everyone’s dead silent, unsure of what to say, if there’s anything to say at all.

“If you have something to say to me, why not just say it?” you ask, “Or are we just intent on acting like children tonight?”

“This meal is delicious, isn’t it? Really. I know we come here all the time but there’s something about it tonight” Yunho interrupts in an attempt to keep the peace.

Seonghwa shakes his head at him, his own history as the peacemaker teaching him that it’s not worth it. When Hongjoong’s in a mood he’s in a mood and there’s nothing to be said about it.

Hongjoong shrugs, poking around at his plate, “I don’t have anything to say really. I’m just curious—I think we all are—about what’s going on here.”

Your eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Hongjoong looks to Woo’s seat then to San’s and right back at you, the girl at the center of it all. “I know we’re all close but the way you three have been acting lately goes a little beyond close. You can’t blame us for thinking…”

“Thinking what?” You look around the table, hoping that one of your friends will jump in and tell Hongjoong how silly he’s being. Instead they avert eye contact. They treat you like you’re a stranger and, in the world of the secret whisperings among them, that’s exactly what you are. It takes a moment for Hongjoong’s words to make sense. He said something without saying it and it’s clear he’s not the only person with that on the tip of their tongue.

The moment it hits you, your palms begin to sweat, the air around you growing hotter. You try your best to act clueless, pretending to have no idea where they’d get these ideas from. It’s not because you have anything to hide. Nothing has happened between the three of you and nothing will. But sometimes you’ve felt it—a tingle when Woo’s holding your hand or those butterflies when you’re cuddled up with San. It’s a purely platonic act on their part, there’s nothing more to it, but the feelings are there whether you like it or not and the idea that anyone else can see it is frightening.

“You can’t be serious. You don’t think…they’re my best friends, like we all are. There’s nothing…they don’t even like girls” you stutter, a shaky hand reaching for the neck of your wine glass.

Yeosang’s eyes widen at your declaration and he has to reach for a glass of water to keep from choking on his food.

Mingi quirks his head at you, shooting a quick glance at Hongjoong. “Who told you that?”

“Told me what?”

Jongho laughs to himself, tickled by this exchange. “That they don’t like girls.”

“But they don’t. They’re gay.”

“Oh, honey” Hongjoong sighs, letting up on you for the first time tonight, “We thought you were just playing it up. You really are clueless.”

You open your mouth to say something more, you aren’t even sure what that is, but the feeling of San’s hand on your shoulder makes you swallow your words.

“What are we talking about?” he asks, taking his seat at your side. He looks to you only, picking up on your nervousness in an instant. His face turns serious and you place a gentle hand on his knee, softening him if only a bit.

“Everything okay?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject.

San leans in closer to you, pinning you down to your seat without even touching you. “I don’t know, is it?”

Woo swats him away from you, having already gotten his fill of his boyfriend’s lecturing outside. He doesn’t need him doing it to you too. “San, please. You told me I had to play nice. That goes for both of us, doesn’t it?”

San backs off, as much as he hates to do it. He knows something is up but, at the risk of being a hypocrite, he lets it go. The conversation quickly switches back to discussions about parties—who else they’ll invite and who’ll do all the cooking—yet you can’t bring yourself to care about any of it. In your mind there’s only a loop of Hongjoong’s comment.

“Oh, honey. We thought you were just playing it up. You really are clueless.”

“You’ve had too much to drink. I’m driving you home” Jongho says, stealing Mingi’s car keys.

“I’m fine. Trust me.” Mingi makes a half-hearted attempt at stealing them back but he’s in no shape to do it. He’s swaying back and forth, his cheeks tinted a rosy pink courtesy of those last three shots of soju.

Gathered outside of the restaurant, your group lingers by the door, saying your goodbyes and trying to reel in the drunkest among you. It’s a clear night, the type that's perfect for counting stars, but you’re too busy freezing to revel in the magic of it. Earlier you left your jacket in the car, not thinking much of it until you stumbled out of the restaurant into an actual freezer.

San slips out of his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and giving your arms a quick rub to warm them up. “Look after this for me while I go grab the car.”

As San ventures off to find the car, Woo steps in front of you, coming in close to block the wind.

“Goodnight you two” Hongjoong sings, winking at you over Woo’s shoulder.

You groan and Woo lets out a skeptical “Goodnight” waving to the others until there’s only the two of you left. When his gaze drifts back to you, you try not to make eye contact but you can’t resist it. His eyes shimmer so gorgeously in the moonlight that it’s impossible not to be taken by them.

Rubbing his hands together, he presses them to your cheeks, squishing them together enough that you look like a little fish. Definitely the cutest fish he’s ever seen. It was his intention to warm you up but he has no clue how hot you burn for him, as hard as you try to fight it.

“I don’t know if I told you this but you look beautiful tonight” he says, taking you in from head to toe, “That dress especially. It's lovely”

The dress in question, a black lace up mini dress, is indeed lovely. You’d ordered it on a whim during a late night shopping session and have been dying to wear it for weeks. When San suggested that you all match for dinner tonight, black on black all the way, you figured there was no time like the present. It’s more revealing than you’re used to and some part of you questioned if you should wear it or not but Woo’s complement did all that was needed to melt your doubts away.

“You do too” you blush, straightening out his tie, “You look fancy.”

Woo tries to play it off but it’s always much too obvious when he’s flattered. “I try. You’ll always be the prettiest one in the room but I have to try to give you some competition, don’t I?”

“Are you attempting to flatter me, Wooyoung?”

Woo moves closer to you, his breath tickling your face as he speaks, “I don’t know. Am I?”

It’s back. That tingle you feel whenever Woo does something like this. You feel it in the tips of your fingers and your toes. Soon it’ll spread everywhere else, overtaking you, and there’s not a single thing you can do about it. The longer he stares at you the worse it’ll be. He’s sealing your fate, damning you to a night spent trying to chase these feelings away.

“Are you gonna get in or do you two plan to walk home?” San shouts, honking the horn.

You let out a sigh of relief. You’ve been saved. Just barely.

“Does your boyfriend know you’re picking up men from random street corners?” Woo jokes, turning to greet San.

San leans over, pushing the passenger’s side door open, “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

Woo laughs, doubling back to grab you, “You ride in the front tonight, okay, beautiful?”

It’s a question that isn’t a question. You always ride shotgun—they insist upon it—so you hop into the car before Woo’s tempted to scoop you up and set you in there himself. He will do it.

Tossing himself into the back, Woo slams the door closed, spreading out across the seat as the car hums down the city street. It’s a quiet, peaceful ride and it only occurs to you after a few minutes that it’s strangely quiet. There’s always a debrief after dinner. Woo never misses out on the chance to gossip with you and San lives for it even though he’s fond of pretending he doesn’t but tonight’s different. Something’s off.

You switch on the radio, hoping that the introduction of a little music will keep your mind from wandering, but San flicks it off the moment that you do.

“When we came back to the table, what were you talking about?” he asks, catching you off guard. San’s not the type to let things go, you’ve always known that, but you thought maybe this time you'd luck out. You thought wrong.

Woo sits up, combing his dark hair back from his face, “San, don’t start.”

“I’m not starting” he swears, “I’m just curious. Don’t tell me you aren’t.”

“Well…” Woo muses, cutting his eyes over at you, “It would be nice to know. I mean, we don’t keep secrets from each other, right?”

You stare out of the window, unable to face either of them. Woo’s right, you don’t keep secrets. Maybe a long time ago it would’ve been forgivable to keep some things to yourself but now? The three of you have gotten so close that it seems almost blasphemous to lie to them.

“The guys think that there’s something going on between the three of us…” you spill out and you’d swear you sucked all of the air from the car.

“Oh…”

That’s all you’re left with. Now you have to look at them. You have to see their faces and know that you haven’t upset them. “I told them that there wasn’t though! The only thing between us is friendship. That’s it.”

“Is that what you told them or is that how you feel?” Woo asks and San does nothing to stop him.

You let out a nervous laugh, convinced that he’s messing with you. “Woo, I’m being serious.”

San takes a deep breath, fingers tapping at the steering wheel as you approach a red light. “So are we.”

“So…” Woo says, his words more deliberate this time, “Is that what you told them or is that how you feel?”

There’s so much weight to that question—almost too much for you to handle. After your breakup you were a total wreck. It felt like someone had torn your heart out and ripped it to pieces. How couldn’t it belong to them when they were the ones who put it back together?

“What if what I feel is wrong?” you ask, the rush of emotion forcing your voice to crack.

San holds his hand out to you and you feel a sense of calm wash over you as you take it. He interlocks his fingers with yours, planting slow sweet kisses along the back of your hand. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you feel, sweetheart.”

Woo caresses your cheek, his chin propped up on the back of your chair as he studies you from the backseat. “We feel it too” he sighs, taken by your beauty, “You’re an easy girl to fall for.”

“Woo” you giggle, your gaze falling to your lap where your free hand’s fidgeting with the lace trim of your dress.

“Stop it, baby, you’re embarrassing her” San says, coming to your rescue as usual.

“Embarrassing her how? She knows how perfect she is” Woo coos, pinching your cheek, “I tell her everyday.” Settling back into his seat, he digs his phone out of his pocket, flicking it on to scroll through his notifications.

San winks at you, raising your hand to his lips to give it one last kiss. He goes back to driving so casually that you’re left wondering if everything that just happened was all in your head. It’s the strangest thing, how they can be so laid back about a confession that’s turned your world upside down—changed everything you knew in an instant. Maybe it’s because they always knew.

When Woo and San first met they knew the two of them belonged together. Their bond was something they never had to question, it simply was the way things were supposed to be. And when you entered the picture it was no different. You moving in only cemented it. You belonged there with them—in their home, in their arms. They’d love you, protect you, do everything in their power to put a smile on that beautiful face.

Just like the one you have now. The one Woo keeps catching in the rearview mirror and San keeps seeing out of the corner of his eye. Woo wasn’t lying. You are a very easy girl to fall for. They’re doing it right now.

To anyone who knows you, visiting your apartment makes for a fun game. Your arrival here led to a little redecorating on Woo and San’s part. They insisted on moving some things around to make room for what you loved. If you saw a lamp you wanted, if there was a painting you had your eye on, anything at all and it was yours.

So whenever one of the guys is over and a new piece is spotted they like to bet who it belongs to. An easy task at first, it’s grown much more difficult over time. “It’s like you’re becoming the same person” Yeosang will say in a spooky voice, experiencing what might be actual fear of who’s becoming a clone of who. He loves you all but multiples of any of you is a recipe for disaster.

Your friends’ teasing aside, you love the place you call home. This cozy two bedroom is a seamless fusion of the three of you. It’s your safe place. Where you all run back to for comfort after a long day out in the world. All night it’s sat undisturbed, awaiting your return, and your grand entrance doesn’t disappoint.

The apartment door pushes open, flooding the dimly lit apartment with a choppy but spirited rendition of one of Woo’s favorite songs. He’s been playing it nonstop for the past two weeks and during the last half of the ride home he stole the aux cord to force you both to listen. Blame the alcohol or call it brainwashing but you and San were feeling it tonight. So much that you sang and danced your way from the parking garage, probably waking up the whole neighborhood.

Singing a lyric even you’re shocked you remember, you do a little shuffle, kicking your heels off at the door. San does a shimmy behind you, dropping his next to yours. Woo grabs you by the arm, pulling you into his, and you bring San right along with you. You’ve had enough of these late night dance sessions—more than any of you will admit—for your bodies to be totally in sync as you dance around the apartment.

Taking you by the hand, San twirls you in a circle and that last sip of wine kicks in immediately, the room still spinning even after you’ve stopped. Luckily Woo’s quick on his feet, catching you from behind.

“Clumsy much?” he cackles, arms looped around your waist.

You spin around, scrunching your face up at him, “Do you think you’re funny? Cause you’re not.”

You feel San’s arms close around you from the other side. His muscles make every hug a bear hug and you’ve never minded one bit.

“You’re prettier when you aren’t being a brat” he says, fingertips tracing the immaculate outline of Woo’s cheek.

Woo nuzzles into his touch like a cat being scratched at just the right spot. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“And a brat” San makes a point of saying, “But pretty? Definitely.”

Woo and San flirting is nothing new to you, you’ve seen it enough that it doesn’t even phase you, but this is the first time you’ve ever been in the middle of it. Physically wedged between them, feeling their temperatures rise as San cups Woo’s face and leans in for a kiss.

Good manners dictate that you shouldn’t stare but you aren’t sure what else you can be expected to do. Their lips look so fluffy as they meet. They kiss each other with equal parts desire and restraint. Their longing for each other radiates off of them and soaks into you. But that longing’s not only theirs, it’s yours too. Something new has been awakened inside of you and it has your heart racing.

San draws in a breath as their lips part, a light chuckle leaving him at the star crossed look in your eyes. “You know…” he hums, his hand finding your throat, “We’ve always wondered what your lips taste like.” His thumb brushes your chin, tilting your head so that your lips graze his. “Can I taste them?”

A floaty “Yes” leaves your lips and time seems to slow to a crawl as he lulls you into a kiss that has the room spinning again. His lips are as soft as they appeared and he pours into you that same desire, that same longing. Restraint? Now that’s a different story. The deeper he kisses you—his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth—the harder it is to hold back.

“You can’t have her all to yourself” Woo says, tugging San’s hair to break the kiss, “I want some of her too.”

You hardly have a chance to recover from San’s kiss when Woo’s pressing his lips to yours, making you feel light headed all over again. He floods you with more of the same feelings but there’s something different about the way that he kisses you. He abandons any hope of containing his desires, his lips feverishly moving against yours. He hums at the taste of you, like you’re his new favorite dessert and all he wants is more.

“It’s getting late, Woo. I think we should go to bed. Don’t you?” San asks, running his fingers along your hips.

Woo nods, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Mmhmm.”

They slip away from you, heading for the hallway that leads to their bedroom. How cruel it is of them to just leave you standing here with your head all foggy and your cutest panties soaked through. You lean against the back of the couch, missing the contact but grateful for the chance to catch your breath. With all the air you were losing you might’ve fainted otherwise.

“Are you coming?” San calls out, lingering just outside of his bedroom. The light from the bedroom bathes the dark hallway in a warm glow that reflects off of San’s chest as he pops the buttons of his shirt open one by one.

You cross your legs, hoping to quiet the noise between them that’s only worsened at the sight of his bare skin. “Uh, yeah, I just, uh…have to get out of this dress first.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart” he smiles, amused by your shyness, “We can help with that.”

Your body moves as if it has a mind of its own. Each step towards him is so delicate you’d be forgiven for thinking that you floated your way to him. Placing a hand on the small of your back, San ushers you into the bedroom where an already shirtless Woo stands by the dresser fussing with his watch.

“Somebody need help with something?’ Woo asks, shaking his wrist free of the designer watch.

San brushes past you, tossing his own shirt onto the bed. “Her dress. She needs help getting out of it.”

Setting his watch down on the dresser, Woo crosses the room, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. He locks eyes with you, telling you to come to him without having to say it. There’s a pull to them. Like gravity holds you to the ground, your heart holds you to them. You’ve always felt it but tonight it’s infinitely stronger. They could call you to the moon and you’d find a way there.

“It really is a beautiful dress” Woo says, his hands tracing your figure the moment you’re within reach. He spreads his legs, bringing you in close enough to feel the tip of his nose graze the softness of your belly through the fabric. “It suits your figure well, not that a body like yours needs much help.” His palms come to rest at your hips, indulgent fingers massaging them as his thumbs ease the fabric higher and higher above your thighs.

“You’re always so sweet to me” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “If you’re not careful one day it’ll all go to my head.”

Pausing to admire the plushness of your thighs, he trails kisses along them, eyes flicking up to meet your gaze. “Good” he grins, pushing your dress above your waist. His hands slip back down to your thighs, another pair of hands gripping your dress from behind.

“You should let things get to your head more” San whispers into your ear, the defined muscles of his chest flush against your back. There’s something else pressed against you too. Something thick and hard poking into the tender flesh of your now exposed ass. Mindlessly you press back into it, breath hitching as you feel his need grow even stronger from your teasing.

“I think you let someone make you forget how special you are” Woo says, placing a kiss achingly close to your core, “But that’s okay. We’ll remind you.”

Woo’s tongue darts out, gliding up and down to taste you through panties already dripping with your essence. Easing your thighs apart, he tucks your panties to the side, a solitary finger petting your slippery entrance. A pulse of warmth ripples through you, pooling right between your legs where the tip of Woo’s tongue has found your clit, twirling around the bundle of nerves so artfully that any remaining ability you had to think straight simply falls away. Looping an arm around your right thigh, he hoists it up, throwing it over his shoulder.

Instinctively you look down but gain only the briefest glimpse of his head diving between your thighs before your dress is flying over your head, slinking to the ground beside you. You didn’t wear a bra tonight, the dress wouldn’t allow you to, and San’s grateful for it. That’s one less thing between him and those breasts that bounce against your chest so deliciously. He captures them in his hands, feeling the weight of them against his palms.

“So soft” San mumbles, suckling at the fragrant skin of your neck.

Shaping your breasts beneath his touch, he takes two fingers and lightly strokes your nipples. You let out the sweetest, softest moan and he pinches your nipples, beyond pleased at how that moan falls apart on the tip of your tongue. For every moan you let out he pinches them harder, pushing you further, just to see how much you can take or how much you want to take.

Your head falls back and San kisses your neck with even more hunger than before, leaving a trail of marks behind that will no doubt be hickeys by morning. Tears decorate your lashes like constellations, the overstimulation wrecking every part of you.

“You’re clenching like crazy, sweetie. You want something to fill you up?” Woo asks, his finger still stroking your slit, torturing you with the possibilities.

You whine, hips attempting to sink down onto his finger, but San grips you tighter, forcing you to straighten up.

“You have such a pretty voice” San taunts, dipping a hand between your legs to play with your clit, “Use it. You want us to fill you up or not, baby?”

Your breaths quicken, body trembling as you grab onto San’s arm, nails raking his skin. “Ah, I want it, Sannie. I want you to fill me up, pretty please.”

“Oh, pretty please? How can we say no to that?” Woo grins, gathering your arousal with his fingertips. He eases further onto the bed, lying back to watch how his fingers glisten in the light. “Come here, sweetie.”

San slows his movements, kissing you tenderly as he lets you down gradually before placing you on the bed. You get on your hands and knees without being told, crawling up the bed until San grabs your hips, stopping you when your face hovers just above Woo’s waist.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Woo tilts your head up, raising his soaked fingers to your honeyed lips. San’s hands collide with your plump ass, the sting making you cry out and forcing your lips to part just enough for Woo’s fingers to slip in between them. You’ve never tasted yourself before, it’s something you never dared to try, but as Woo coats your tongue in your own juices you find yourself enjoying it so much that you’re sucking on his fingers, praying for more.

Behind you San’s rubbing your ass to soothe the sting, his eyes glued to your dripping entrance. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman that he’d forgotten how pretty a pussy could be and yours is without a doubt as pretty as they come. Your folds are so soft, your hole so needy and wet, that his cock’s straining against his zipper, aching to have you.

“Does your tongue feel this good when you do everything?” Woo asks when his fingers pop free from your mouth.

Placing your hand on the bulge that awaits inches from your face, you let your palm ride the outline of his cock. “Let me show you.”

Woo’s caught off guard by your boldness but it only makes him want you more. Unzipping his pants, there’s little you have to do to free him from his underwear. His cock’s eager to meet you, throbbing and leaking as you stroke his length. You circle the pink tip with your tongue, dragging it across the top to collect his arousal. Your fingers wrap around the base, keeping him in place as your lips wrap around his cock, stretching to take his thickness.

You’ve seen their cocks before, by accident of course, and somewhere in the filthiest corners of your mind you always wondered what it’d be like to have one in your mouth. Now you know and you love everything about it. How comfortably he fits in your mouth. How you can feel all the finer details of his cock with your tongue. And those noises he makes when the tip hits the back of your throat—moaning like he’s never felt anything better—are like music to your ears.

“San!” you want to cry out when he grabs you by your hips, thrusting his cock into you. Of course you can’t talk. With Woo’s cock shoved this far down your throat you can only mumble, drooling down his length while San’s pulsing against your walls. For a quick second, quicker than you can blink, your vision goes blurry. When San asked if you wanted to be full he meant full. Bottomed out, stretched to the brink, feeling all of him with nothing left to desire.

San leans forward, kissing along your spine. “You took me so well, baby. You’re being such a good girl for us tonight.”

He snaps his hips into you again and you arch your back, causing him to slam right into your sweet spot. You tremble and he knows he’s found it, the one spot that’s gonna make you unravel for him. You’re in no position to see him—in fact, you’re in the perfect position not to—but it makes him happy. He’s determined to make you feel good, every stroke of his cock dedicated to making you lose it.

But he can’t begin to ignore how good this feels for him too. Your walls are velvety and smooth, clinging to him as he glides in and out of your tight little hole. Each time he thrusts into you the force travels through your perfect figure, bouncing you right back onto him. San knows he’s bottomed out but somehow you seem to be sucking him in deeper, his abs tightening at the tension already building in his abdomen.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Look at you” San groans, pulling back enough to see the juices trickling out of you.

Gripping the blanket with one hand, you try to use all of your strength to prop yourself up but you can’t. San’s thrusts are too powerful, the pleasure’s too strong, and your body’s going limp. Cupping your fluffy cheeks, Woo pets them, pressing his cock even further down your throat. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll take care of you. Just let go.”

Releasing your hold on the blanket, you do your best to let go of it—of everything. Your muscles begin to relax, the full weight of your body falling into their hands. Between them they develop a rhythm, pleasing your holes in perfect synchronicity. You’re dripping from both ends, clenching and sucking, moaning and whining. You’re a perfect little mess. Everything they could ever ask for.

There’s something ethereal about being between the two of them. Your body feels light, like you're floating somewhere else but you’re right here with them. Not being fucked, being made love to. Being treated like every part of your body is this sacred thing that they’re so grateful to have.

“I wish you could see yourself right now” San sighs, running his hands down your sides, “Our pretty girl.”

Their pretty girl. It does something to you to be called that. It breaks you in a million ways. All the best ones. A swell of energy builds in your body, like a tree growing and spreading its branches out to the furthest reaches of your form.

“Mmmm…” you whine, heavy lids rising to flash those gorgeous glassy eyes up at Woo.

San feels your hips stutter and catches you, keeping you steady. “You ready to cum, baby?”

You nod, puffy lips still too tightly wound around Woo’s cock to make out words. Could you if he even let you?

“That’s it. Cum all over Sannie’s cock” Woo coos, his thumb brushing your quivering bottom lip, “Just like that. Good girl.”

Your mind goes blank, void of the faintest thought of anything. You’re caught in the ecstasy of your high, walls fluttering as you squirt down San’s cock. He quickens his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm long enough that when his finally hits you’re still pulling him in, milking him of every drop of cum he has.

Riding out his high, San pushes you forward, forcing your lips to meet the base of Woo’s cock. Woo raises his hips, sloppy movements bringing him closer and closer to the edge until he’s spilling down your throat, filling your cheeks with warm white liquid. He slips out of your mouth and you collapse onto his stomach, gasping for air as you try to recall which planet you’re on.

Completely spent, a dizzy San collapses on the bed beside his boyfriend, intentionally leaving enough room for you. “Are you sleeping there tonight?” he teases.

“No” you pout, motioning to hit him on the arm but making no impact at all. It’s like trying to punch someone in a dream. Nothing.

San catches your arm, pulling you into the space between them. “Are you usually violent after your orgasms?”

Woo tucks an arm around you, lovingly kissing your shoulder. “Not that we’re complaining. I’ve been known to like a little slap sometimes.”

“I’ll remember that next time” you promise, responding to his kiss with one of your own to the bridge of his nose. Turning to San, you kiss him on the cheek, giggling at how his face lights up at the sweet gesture.

Settling into each other’s embrace, the chatter quiets but not awkwardly so. There’s a sense of peace in each other’s company. A comfort in this newfound feeling of completion. All this time you’ve been together but never quite in the way that any of you wanted. There was always a barrier, something unspoken keeping you from letting your true feelings show, and now that’s melted away leaving only the three of you together.

“Baby” San whispers after some time has passed. Your head’s resting on his chest and he rubs your cheek, signaling to you that he needs to get up. “I’m gonna go run us a shower, okay?”

He sits up, ready to hop out of bed, when you throw your arms around him and drag him back down. “No. You whine” throwing on your best baby face, “You stay.”

“Oh my god. I have two of you now” he laughs, too soft for you to resist your pouting.

“Oh? You have me now?”

Woo props himself up on his elbow, head resting in the palm of his hand. “Don’t we?” he asks, drawing on your naked body with his fingertips. The question is playful but there’s a seriousness to it that can’t be ignored.

You let the question sink in, realizing for the first time that you don’t have to pretend anymore. “Yes, you have me” you sigh, batting your pretty doe eyes.

“It’s settled then. You’re all ours” San smiles, cuddling back up beside you.

Woo lays back down, nestling his face against your neck. “I like the sound of that.”

Your bodies fit back together like the pieces of a puzzle. Everything about this feels right. Every small moment so special. There’s romance in each other’s breaths. Intimacy in even the faintest brush of your skin against theirs as you shift in the bed. You could stay here forever. And you intend to.

#ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez fluff #ateez smut #choi san x you #choi san x reader #choi san fluff #choi san smut #wooyoung x you #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff

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captain-huggy-bear · 19 days ago

Text

To Fight a Ten Year Old

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: In which Quinn is prepared to time travel to whoop some ten year old butt because you tell him a story from your childhood and he takes it personally.

Notes: Alas, I did in fact experience this as a child, but I can laugh about it now :) Also writing soccer instead of football actually hurt me.

Very silly + short idea to be honest but hope it brings a smile to some faces!

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a stupid little back and forth the two of you have going as you get ready for bed, silly little questions like 'tell me about your first broken bone' and 'why is your favourite animal your favourite?'. It's something Quinn and you have been doing since you first started dating. It started as a way to get to know each other better and ended up a habit, a ritual of sorts.

Each year the questions get harder to think of as your lives become more intertwined, most of your stories featuring the other, but it still raises interesting moments from your childhoods and silly little stories that explain a lot about you or him. Things you probably wouldn't find out about each other unless you asked these random questions or a family member brought it up at Thanksgiving or Christmas.

Today is no different. You're going through your night routine, taking off your make up and moisturising your skin, while Quinn brushes his teeth in the adjoining bathroom, door open so you can talk.

"Okay..." He's thinking hard, even as he talks around his toothbrush leaning his head out of the bathroom to watch you as you wipe away your eyeliner, "How about first heartbreak?" His voice is muffled around the toothbrush and almost sounds like he's underwater, despite this he never seems to want to wait until he's done.

"Like first heartbreak? Or first proper heartbreak?" You're running a cloth over the rest of your face as you ask, wiping away concealer and blush, an array of colours smearing the fabric. Your skin being revealed bit by bit.

"What's the difference?" He briefly disappears back into the bathroom to spit out his toothpaste and put his toothbrush away, but you know he's still listening as you explain.

"Well, first heartbreak is that time as a little kid that you thought you were in love and got hurt by it but it wasn't serious. You were probably over it by the next week, and first proper heartbreak is when you're older and it actually is heartbreak and you can't get over it for at least 3 months."

He hums as he comes back to lean against the doorframe, shoulders looking delicious without a shirt on, "First heartbreak, probably less depressing for a Monday night."

You take a moment, reaching for your moisturiser as you think back. There are many moments you could think of where you thought you were in love as a litte kid and had your heart broken as a result, but one stands out the most.

"Okay, um...When I was 10 years old I really liked like this boy in class called Cameron but Cameron really liked Emily, a girl 2 years older than us." You can still remember it now, the way he used to sit with her whenever he had the chance, how she clearly did not want a kid 2 years younger than her hanging around, how lovesick he was...how lovesick you were.

"Okay, so Cameron likes a cougar?" You glare over at him as you rub moisturiser into your skin, disapproving as he grins at you, straight teeth peeking out from behind his lips.

"2 years apart at the age of 10 and 12 does not make someone a cougar, Quinn!"

"I don't know, baby, seems pretty cougar-ish to me." You roll your eyes at him as he strolls closer to you, taking your comb in hand and tilting your head forward gently. He's careful as he starts to detangle your hair, careful not to pull too harshly on your scalp, much kinder than your mother used to be when you were a child. Quinn's always careful not to hurt you, apologetic if a tangle pulls too roughly.

"You're ridiculous. Anyway, where was I?" You reach for the detangler handing it back to him as he works, closing your eyes gently.

"You liked a spotty kid called Cameron." There's a hint of dislike riding his voice, even as his fingers are careful as they pull strands of your hair apart, teasing out knots.

Your eyes flash open and meet his in the vanity mirror, lips pursed at the way he insults a ten year old he's never met, "I liked a tall, cute kid called Cameron who was into soccer."

"Yeah, like I said, spotty." The dislike turns to a jealous sort of mumble, matched only by the sour look on his face that has you huffing out a laugh.

"Are you jealous of a ten year old?"

"He's not ten anymore..."

"Do I need to remind you this is a story of heartbreak?"

"Still, should've been me." His hands slide from your hair, comb having been put back on the side, and down to the base of your neck. Long fingers working at the tension there, you lean back into his fingers even as you call him out for his ridiculousness.

"We didn't even know each other! You're absurd, anyway, so I was certain Cameron was my future husband and I decided to be very brave one Valentine's day and get him a card and a gift." You lean a little to the right as Quinn hits a knot on the left side of your shoulder, you sway back into him.

"I'm proud of little you, that's gutsy." He can almost imagine it, little you bravely handing over a glittery red and pink monstrosity, little bows in your hair and chubby cheeks.

"I know, braver than I am now." You're not sure you'd have been brave enough to do something like that now, it had been Quinn after all who'd made the first move, Quinn who'd set the pace of your relationship at the start, "So I get him some chocolates, those stupid cheap heart shaped ones, and I make a stupid card covered in glitter and all sorts. I take my time and I write a heartfelt confession inside and then decided to give it to him in front of the entire class."

"No..." His voice drops, horror filling it as he looks at you through the mirror, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. You nod at him, confirming his worst fears, he knows how this is about to go down.

"Yeah, rookie move. I do it though, I hand it over and then he proceeds to not even read the card and um, rip it up in front of me and the entire class while telling me that he was going to marry Emily."

His fingers still in their massage. In fact, Quinn completely stills, his entire body rigid as he frowns at you through the mirror, there's a silence, long and heavy before he speaks.

"Where does Cameron live?"

"Quinn." You turn in your seat to look up at him, lips pursed together.

"I'm serious where does he live I'm going to go have some words with him," He crosses his arms and there's a brief moment where you're distracted by the strength and definition in his forearms before you really process that he's considering having words with a guy who broke your heart when you were ten.

"About his choices when he was ten?"

"Yeah! Who does that to someone, not only did he reject you, which is an insane decision by the way, he embarrasses my baby in front of the entire class!" Quinn reaches for your hands as he rants, pulling you to your feet, as his fingers twist and twine with yours. You'd think he's just joking but his tone is completely serious and it makes your heart warm, no matter how silly he's being. He's genuinely personally offended on your behalf about something that happened when you were a child, before you knew each other. It's sweet. Silly and absurd, but sweet.

"You can't fight a guy who broke my heart at the age of ten."

"Sure, I can or I can get Millsy to do it." He cracks a smile at that, even though he's serious about wanting words with this Cameron, he's also aware he's being absurd. He tugs you closer by the hands even as you glare up at him like a disappointed parent.

"You are not setting Miller on my childhood crush!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous! It was over a decade ago!" Even as you protest you're smiling, arms reaching up to rest over his shoulders and around the back of his neck. Fingers twisting the strands of brunet hair that rest there.

"And, he broke your heart and that's not acceptable, baby, i'm sorry, I have to defend your honour." Quinn palms rest on each of your hips, pulling you in as his fingers curl into your pajama bottoms.

"But, it was a good thing."

"How is that a good thing?"

"Because if he hadn't done that, I might have married him and been stuck in a loveless marriage and then never met you or met you but not been able to be with you." You look at him with a little smirk like you've beat him at his own game, like you've outplayed him in a game of chess.

"So you're saying that I actually should be thanking that spotty kid for breaking your heart?"

"Yes."

There's a moment of silence as he draws you ever closer, leaning down to brush his nose against yours, all soft lidded eyes and warmth. Pliant like a docile house cat.

"I'm not thanking him, I will, however, not get Millsy to fight him." It's mumbled so close to your lips that they're brushing his, an almost kiss that speaks volumes about where his mind is now.

"Good, because I'm not breaking you or Miller out of prison."

"You don't love me enough?" He doesn't even have the decency to pretend to be offended or care as his eyes are heavy, focus on your lips, not your eyes and certainly not on the ten year old he was threatening to set Miller on 5 seconds ago.

"Oh, I love you enough, but I do not have that skill set, honey."

"I don't know, think you could probably charm the officers into letting me out, baby." Quinn brushes the tip of his nose purposefully with yours and you know he's seconds from breaking and just kissing you, he has his tells, his little gestures that have consistently given him away.

"You suggesting I seduce the police now?" You pull back just enough to get his attention, to force a pout from him at the distance, his fingers scrambling at your back to pull you back in.

"...Nawwh, only me."

"You're an idiot." He pulls in you in with enough force that your chests bump with a soft smack, rubbing his cheek against yours just because he knows the stratch of his beard will get a giggle from you as you shy away from the sensation.

"I'm your idiot though."

"Mmm, my idiot." You mumble it against his lips as he finally breaks, self control being ditched in favour of the way you sigh against his mouth. He tastes like spearmint toothpaste, minty and sweet as his lips part beneath yours with a hum.

Maybe heartbreak at ten sucked, but you can't help but be thankful for it when you ended up winning the jackpot when you scored Quinn. So much better than spotty ten year old Cameron.

#huggy bear writes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine

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reiding-writing · 1 month ago

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For a Christmas fic you could do a Secret Santa with cold!reader where spencer gets her name and freaks out cause he had no idea what to get her you could make it more fluffy whatever you're feeling like <3

SECRET SANTA — SPENCER REID!

spencer’s a little stumped on what to get you for secret santa.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 1.5k | fluff | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — requests have been open for like 12 hours and i have 7 new requests alreaady 😭

A teacup is thrust in front of your face.

“What the hell are you doing-?” You give Garcia a less than impressed expression as you push the mug away, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched enough to leave frown lines.

“Secret Santa! Pick a name sweetness,” She’s not deterred, and the flowery cup is held out towards you once more.

“Yeah, no thanks,” You shake your head decidedly. There was no way you’d participate in something as idiotic as picking the name of some random coworker out of a proverbial hat only to buy them a useless, crappy present because you didn’t actually know, nor care about, what they actually liked.

”You can’t just not,” Morgan tuts. “Embrace the spirit of the holidays, Ice Queen,”

Your eyebrows twitch. “No?”

“Awe come on,” There’s a soft jingle as Garcia leans her torso towards you. “Please? It’s only the main team, and we’ve got a 25 dollar limit,”

She shakes the mug again, and you eye it like it’s full of cockroaches instead of paper.

“At least pick a name,”

You concede with a exasperated huff, begrudgingly picking a piece of paper and unfolding it between your fingers.

You didn’t look too happy with the result. Or maybe you did. Spencer didn’t have a clue really. You could be overjoyed right now for all he knew.

He was mid sip of coffee when Garcia turned her efforts to him.

“Your turn genius,”

Spencer froze with his mug halfway to his lips, the steam curling up into his face. He placed it down carefully and stared at the teacup Garcia was shaking with far too much enthusiasm.

“I don’t think I—”

“No excuses, Doctor Reid,” Garcia interrupted, her tone light but insistent. “It’s team bonding. Don’t you love us? Don’t you want to show us your undying affection through a thoughtful and budget-friendly present?”

Spencer hesitated, then gave in with a reluctant sigh. He reached into the mug, plucked a folded piece of paper, and unfolded it. His heart sank.

Your name stared back at him, bold and unmistakable.

His stomach did a little flip, and his heart thumped louder in his chest. You. Of all people, he had to get you.

Not Morgan, who would have been happy with anything sports-related. Not Garcia, who would squeal with joy at something glittery and eccentric. Not even Hotch, who would surely appreciate a simple tie.

It was you. The cold, guarded enigma who somehow made his palms sweat whenever you gave him one of those rare, fleeting smiles.

Garcia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s that face, boy wonder?”

Spencer blinked rapidly, trying to school his expression into something less... panicked. “Face? I’m not making a face.”

For a profiler, he really was horrible as masking his tells.

“Oh, you have to tell us who you got!” Garcia said, leaning in eagerly.

Spencer immediately clutched the paper to his chest like it contained state secrets.

“Doesn’t that defeat the point?” You speak over the rim of a book, pulling a coffee receipt from between it’s pages to continue where you’d left off, quickly having moved on from whoever you’d landed like you didn’t want to waste any mental energy on it.

He wished it was that easy for him.

Garcia pouted, but Morgan laughed. “Look at him. That’s the face of someone who’s in over his head.”

And Morgan wasn’t wrong.

What was he supposed to get you? You liked coffee, but only from recognised establishments, you liked reading, but he didn’t know what you had and hadn’t read, you liked mint, maybe, and anything else was anyone’s guess.

He wanted to get you something that proved he knew you, but it also had to be *practical*, you wouldn’t appreciate something that you had no use for.

He figures he should at least start with something familiar to him, so he drops by a bookstore first.

His local bookstore may as well have his name on it, and he greets the owner like an old friend as he begins his browse, running his fingers over the spines of books as if they could somehow tell him what you would want. He had to make this right. He needed it to be perfect.

Although his gaze quickly wandered away from the novels as he wandered past a trinkets table. Nothing too out of the ordinary, some business cards, a few pens, some small book lights and bookmarks.

And then he’s decided.

Now, Spencer’s own books were in several states of distress. Cracked spines and creased covers were practically a staple, either from second hand buying or how fast he read through them, but yours were practically pristine.

You liked to take care of your possessions he’s noticed, and every book you read in the office is treated as carefully as any case file, although with one highlighted exception.

You liked to take breaks, and when doing so, saving your page was done in a rather… impulsive manner.

A sticky note, a bus ticket, a receipt from a coffee shop or even sometimes a pen, although never for too long with the latter.

You‘d never buy yourself a bookmark, you’d probably say it was a waste of your money, that a scrap piece of paper would do the job just as well, but that was kind of the point of gifts wasn’t it? To buy something for someone that they wouldn’t necessarily buy themself?

So he sets off home with a mission. Find you the perfect bookmark.

He had a two week time limit, and a 25 dollar price limit, so no custom ordering anything from an obscure European website, but it had to be good.

He didn’t want to buy yourself some flimsy piece of cardboard with a crappy design. He wanted something sleek and cool, something that fit you and your personality.

Simple but not too simple. Practical and attractive. And not too expensive. You’d kill him if it was too expensive.

—

You’ve gotten Hotch a tie pin if the size of the box, and it’s rattling tell the room anything, a half awkward press of your lips together in what’s probably meant to be a smile.

Hotch’s retrieval of your gift isn’t any more graceful, but trust the two most stoic members of the team to be paired in one direction.

“Alright, Spencer’s up next,” Garcia eggs him on with a small nod and a smile, and he sucks in a breath before holding out his gift to you.

Your a little surprised as you take it from him, royal blue tissue paper crumpling under your fingernails as you offer him a strained “thanks,” before glancing back at Garcia to urge her to move on and take the attention away from you.

You shove it into your pocket without opening it. And Spencer doesn’t know why he feels so disappointed.

It was only like you right? He should be grateful you even accepted it at all, right?

Maybe he was being a bit too optimistic at how close the two of you had gotten. He at least thought you’d open it. Let him see your reaction so he could know how to improve next time.

The thought still prays upon him by lunch, and he stares blankly into the little chess piece battery lamp that JJ’d got him like a moth to a lightbulb.

“You’re going to ruin your vision doing that,”

And like always, you cut through everything else.

Spencer blinks, and true to your words there are stark spots of light that cloud his eyes as they flicker across your opposing desks towards you.

Sometimes he swears you have a sixth sense. You weren’t even looking at him, your nose buried in some new novel you were reading.

“Yeah, sorry,” Spencer clears his throat as he attempts to clear his eyesight, blinking harshly.

It manages to clear up just in time for him to watch you stretch in your chair, reaching under your monitor before sliding a gleam of metal between the pages of your book.

It sticks out over the pages just enough for Spencer to catch the snowflake engraving at the top, and he swears he forgets how to breathe.

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

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