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totally-here · 8 months ago

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3 times Phantom's Guardian was Mentioned + 1 Time He Showed Up

One

Phantom’s introduction to Young Justice wasn’t as dramatic as Empress’ or Slobo’s, or even Arrowette’s first introduction to the cave. No, it wasn’t during the Olympics, or on a battlefield, and he didn’t come in injured and looking for help.

Impulse just brought Phantom in one day and insisted that he should join because he’s their age, interested in justice, and now that Greta’s human again they need another ghost member. So Phantom stayed, popping in and out for missions but never really sticking around all that long.

Today is one of the days that Phantom’s with them on a mission, that being looking around a lab of the Brain’s that had an energy surge recently, despite it being presumably abandoned.

Kon got paired up with Phantom to check the rest out first, since they both have better hearing than Anita and Tim, who were both still in the main room working on checking the computers for previous activity.

The room is dark except for the light green ball glowing slightly above Phantom’s hand. He waves it around enough for it to reflect off of glass, then throws it up to the ceiling. The light expands enough to illuminate the room.

Phantom mumbles about not knowing he could do that. Kon ignores him and moves closer to inspect the glass tubes to the side of several monitors set up.

“Looks like cloning equipment,” Phantom says, casually. He drags a finger through the dust gathering on one of the monitors. “Don’t think they’ve been activated recently, though, so that’s good.”

“What? You got a problem with clones or something?” It’s a quick and defensive answer, and Phantom puts his hands up in surrender.

“Not in concept.” He shrugs and joins Kon near the tubes. “But not a lot of people ask before making clones.”

“So I don’t need to sic Superman on you?” Obviously Kon could chew Phantom out himself, but few can do a “not mad, just disappointed” face better than Clark.

Phantom scrunches his face. “Why would you need to?”

Kon stops pretending to inspect the tube and stares at Phantom. “You do know I’m a clone, right?” The blank look on Phantom’s face tells him that no, he did not. “Well I am. Clone of Superman, though we’re pretty much brothers now.”

“Cool,” Phantom says, not a bit less friendly. He hesitates for a second before continuing, “Could I maybe ask you how you got there? Me and my clone have landed on cousins, but that was also, like, given to us by her evil dad. So.”

Phantom trails off. Huh, that makes three members of the team that have been cloned. Not a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened three times.

“You’re making sure she feels accepted, right?”

“Yeah! Well, whenever she’s around. She,” Phantom waves his hand around, looking for the right word, “She’s a wanderer. Exploring the world and stuff. But Richard has a room for her at home, and I remind her of that whenever she does stop by.”

“Well, first of all, don’t push it so hard,” Kon says. Phantom nods enthusiastically. “And second, who’s Richard?”

Kon doesn’t know a lot of Richards, and he doesn’t think that Phantom ever mentioned one before. Or even if he remembers his living life.

“Oh, he’s my, uh, guardian? I guess that’s the best term. The guy I’m living with who forces me to go to school sometimes.” Phantom looks away and back to the tubes.

Before Kon can ask for more details, Robin and Empress come in with a report of dead computers and wanting to know where they’re at with the cloning room.

They’re unimpressed with their lack of progress.

Two

Wally doesn’t really need to come by the Hamilton Lodge that often, not when that’s Young Justice’s territory and he doesn’t want to get involved in all of That.

But Red Tornado said that the team has a file on a planet that’s very quickly becoming a league problem, and he figured it might be a good time to try to check in with Bart, anyway. Make sure he hasn’t run any cars off cliffs again and all that.

So he stops by Manchester to ask Bart about the file, then they both head East to actually find it.

When they arrive at the hotel minutes later, Wally’s surprised to actually find it… clean? There’s no visible trash or overturned furniture or anything else he’d expect from an abandoned hotel filled with teenagers. Well, maybe not filled, lately. He doesn’t think anyone’s living here currently, with Greta at Elias’ for the school year and Slobo gone.

Still, the room smells slightly of artificial pine scent, and Bart perks up before disappearing and reappearing rapidly, holding a teammate up by his armpits. Said teammate just accepts this, his legs folding into a wispy tail, and head rolling against his shoulders.

“This is Phantom!” Bart holds him up higher. Phantom waves. Wally’s only heard of him through Max’s updates, the same way he would hear about Preston or Carol, but with more wariness about the supposed ghost.

Actually looking at the pale face and glowing green eyes contrasting against the darker than dark jumpsuit, Wally’s a little more ready to accept his claim at being undead.

“He stress cleans,” Bart explains, moving to carry Phantom under his arm. Wally bites down the urge to tell him to put him down, but only because Phantom doesn’t resist the hold, only moving to get into a more comfortable position. His hands are touching the floor. “So what happened?”

Bart directs the question downwards, and Phantom heaves a very dramatic sigh. Definitely a teenager. It does raise the question of who exactly this kid’s mentor is. Hopefully he does have one. Maybe he’s the Spectre’s kid?

Phantom phases through the arm holding him only to lay on top of Bart’s hair. “I accidentally called Richard dad. And then fled.”

Bart nods sagely. “Classic. One time I accidentally called Max dad, so I had to start a fire to distract him.”

Phantom sighs again, almost dreamily. “Genius.”

Wally doesn’t have time to unpack all of that. Well he does, but he’s not going to, because there’s really only one Richard that comes to mind that might have the heart to take in a dead kid, even if he doesn’t go by his full name.

But surely Dick would have told him, or any other Titan, if he had adopted a kid. Right?

But there’s still a little shadow of doubt. Maybe Dick wanted it to be a secret, or it was really new or had a rocky start. Phantom doesn’t seem to hold himself like a Bat, but it’s not a guarantee Dick would have trained him.

“The lodge looks nice,” Wally offers out loud, which Phantom shrugs at and wraps his tail around Bart’s head to keep secure. “Anyway, Impulse. The file on Myrg?”

“Oh yeah!” Again, Bart disappears then reappears a few seconds later with a paper file. They really need to start digitizing more of these things. “That’s the planet where we played baseball so that they wouldn’t destroy Earth!”

“You what.”

The prospect of Dick following in his dad’s footsteps is forgotten in the face of what the hell Young Justice got up to on Myrg.

Three

Tim may be in a…Predicament.

It’s not his fault. Really. He knew what he was doing. He couldn’t let a civilian fall for the trap. But they were already so close, so he just, kinda, pushed himself into the rope instead.

So there Robin is, tied upside down in a warehouse, with the Joker below next to an overly complicated control panel. The clown’s rambling about bombs hidden all over the city that Tim knows Batman is already tracking down with Batgirl.

Tim’s not really paying attention to the rant because of that, more focused on wiggling enough to get the spare mini-birdarang out of his glove to cut the rope without notifying the Joker.

“Yikes, bad time?” Asks Phantom’s voice beside him. Based on the source and accounting for the slight echo, he’s floating with his head near Tim’s, likely upside down. “Want some help?”

Tim gets the birdarang out and starts sawing at the thick rope. They should be fine anyway, but stalling the Joker for extra time would be helpful. “Can you possess the Joker? Just hold him still.”

“The correct term is overshadow, but sure.” The voice disappears, and a few seconds later the Joker freezes.

His body jerks forward, then backward, and a laugh chokes out of his throat. His hand claws over his mouth at the noise and he hunches over. All movement halts before he rights himself, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. Phantom looks up at Tim and his eyes are glowing.

Tim cuts through the rope, kicking and using the momentum to right himself and land on his feet. He brushes past Phantom in Joker’s body to handle the control panel. He turns off the radio broadcast and dismantles the bomb strapped to the panel.

Threat handled, he turns to Phantom and holds up some handcuffs. “Let me arrest you?”

Phantom obliges, turning the Joker’s body around and putting his hands behind his back. Tim lets him walk by himself out of the warehouse and moves the handcuffs around a lamppost. The Joker’s body jerks again, then slumps forward, just as Phantom reappears next to him, scowling down at the unconscious body.

“That felt really slimy. Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Phantom grouches.

“Why’re you in Gotham?” Tim asks. It’s not like Phantom makes a habit of visiting. The last time he came into the city, he complained about feeling the dead under the streets. Fortunately, that let Tim uncover a few tunnels that Talons travel through. Phantom, however, was unnerved by the Talons and left quickly.

“Oh, Solomon Grundy’s back in our sewers. Richard said I should probably tell one of you Gotham heroes, since you keep track of those guys.” He shakes out his hands like they were cramped in the Joker.

They hadn’t seen Grundy in a while. Tim assumed he was currently in a less violent personality. “What’s he doing?”

Phantom shrugs. “Just chilling. Mostly underground. I tried to talk to him but he only grunted back at me. He also tried to pick me up, dunno what that was about.”

“Maybe because you’re both dead?” Tim guessed. That would be a surface level connection. Ivy and Woodrue have had more luck working with Grundy than anyone, and Phantom definitely doesn’t have the connection to the Green that’d help with that.

Police lights turn around the corner, and Tim shoots a grapple to get to the roof above them. Phantom follows, but disappears as soon as they’re on the roof. Going back home, probably.

Cass drops down from the roof she was listening on. “Richard?”

“Not the same one.”

They both stick around long enough to watch the Joker get put into the cop car.

Plus one

A spaceship landed in the forests of New York, and Cassie’s team was the first to respond to it. Technically not respond, but check it out, since there wasn’t any alert or anything.

Still, Wonder Girl has Empress, Robin, and Superboy on the other side of the ship, watching what looks like the back door, while she, Impulse, and Phantom watch the other door and main window. She has binoculars, but the windows are so tinted she can’t quite make anything out.

No aliens have come out yet, and she hesitates to have anyone go in, in case whoever inside does turn hostile.

Impulse has offered to run through a total of five times already, and it’s a testament to his restraint that he hasn’t, and a testament to Cassie’s that she hasn’t yelled at him yet. Phantom at least isn’t being annoying, but he’s not necessarily helpful, either. He’s not even watching the spaceship anymore. Now he’s trying to make a flower crown out of dandelions.

“Door’s opening on our side,” Robin says from the comms. “But no one’s coming out.”

“Alright, good enough to try to get in,” Cassie decides. She turns to Phantom, who’s closing off the circle of flowers. Beside him, Impulse has since pulled out a gameboy. “Phantom, go in invisibly through the open door and report back. Try to see what their plans are.”

“Oh, sure. One second.” Phantom finishes the crown and tries to put it on Bart’s head. It doesn’t quite fit over his mane of hair, but Phantom shrugs and leaves it sitting there anyway before going invisible.

“Maybe I should shave my head again,” Bart says as his game character dies.

He gets a resounding no in response.

Half an hour later they have a very annoyed Green Lantern lecturing them about league jurisdiction and knowing when to call someone else.

Apparently, the alien ship was just stopping to complete some maintenance, and did not appreciate any spying on them, and especially did not appreciate who did it. Green Lantern was more than happy to explain that Wonder Girl’s team is not really a part of the Justice League and he can help with their maintenance. They denied his help and left to find a place with less people in it.

“-and you!” Green Lantern rounds on Phantom next, but Cassie knows none of them are really listening. Sure, they messed up by freaking out the visiting aliens, and yeah maybe they should have contacted the league about it, but they’ve dealt with stuff worse than this! It’s not Cassie’s fault she thought that this would have stuck to the formula.

“Who even are you?” Green Lantern runs a hand through his black hair, stupid green gauntlets shining in the sunlight. “Do I need to call your mentor?” He frowns. “Or do they know you mess up alien technology by just being around it?”

Phantom scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How was I supposed to know their tech would go all fuzzy when I came in?”

“You wouldn’t have to know if you just stayed out of the spaceship!”

“Hey!” Cassie cuts in. “Technically that was my call. It’s not all on Phantom.”

“I still could've been more careful,” Phantom says to her, ignoring Green Lantern as they argue about blame.

“Cut it out for a second, okay?” Green Lantern puts a hand between them and they stop to glare at him. He pulls the hand back. “Look, can I just talk to one of your adults about this?”

Robin glares. “We don’t need an adult. We have this under control.”

“Only because I’m here now.”

“I’ll call my mentor,” Phantom says. Kon opens his mouth, most likely to offer to call Superman instead in hopes of a lighter sentence, but Bart covers his mouth, smiling like he knows something Cassie doesn’t. Tim and Anita share a look, and don’t intervene as Phantom pulls out a phone from his chest.

It rings once before it’s picked up. Cassie can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Kon’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Hey, do you think you can pick me up? Green Lantern wants to talk to you.” Phantom looks Green Lantern up and down then says, “No, this one doesn’t have a cape.”

Phantom says goodbye after rattling off their coordinates, hangs up, and stares at Green Lantern in silence for a few seconds.

And then a swirling mass of black seeps into the space next to Phantom. The end of a cane steps out of it, followed by a leg, then the rest of the immaculately dressed man holding the handle of the cane that’s shaped like a bird’s head.

“Phantom,” The man says. His voice drips with condescension in only a way a british accent can, yet Phantom smiles up at him. The shadowy portal behind him disappears. “What, exactly, happened?”

“That’s the fucking Shade,” Anita hisses to Robin, who shrugs noncommittedly at her. Green Lantern seems to recognise him too, taking a step back and clenching his hand that holds his ring.

“Well, the team and I were staking out this spaceship–super cool, by the way–and I went inside to check it out, but my presence messed with their tech–which was an accident–and they freaked out, so I freaked out, and then we kinda got into a little fight until Green Lantern came to mediate.”

“Hm. Is that right?” The Shade asks Green Lantern, who nods slowly, still anticipating an attack. “It seems like the problem’s fixed, then.”

“Well, yes, but–”

“And it does seem about time for these kids to get home, doesn't it?” The Shade pulls out an actual pocket watch, chain and all, from his suit pocket and takes his time in checking it. “I’ll see them home.”

Shadows grow from behind the team, swirling until they become a giant, gaping maw that swallows them up and spits them out in a different forest, or maybe just a different part of the same forest.

Either way, Cassie has to take a moment to make sure she doesn’t throw up from the sudden vertigo the shadow portal caused.

The Shade looks at Phantom, and raises an eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to always bail you out.”

Phantom shrugs, looking guilty. “I know. Thanks, Richard.”

Oh, so that’s who Richard is. Annoyingly, neither Tim or Bart look surprised by this revelation.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #this post was brought to you by me recently finishing starman 1994 #which i totally recommend it was rlly good and im happy i was able to read the physical version because there are some double page spreads #that were beautiful and i just know the online ver would've butchered #this is also part of my put danny in opal agenda!!#come on guys!! partially if not all powered by cosmic energy #missing heroes other than like benetti and the shade as far as i know #and used to have a ghostly curse on it!!! perfect place #also it's no-pulse coded because im still rotating them in my head like a microwave #the gl is supposed to b Kyle but sry if he's off i only know him from his appearances in yj and hitman #and i tried to do a read more thingy because it got long i hope it works

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azzibuckets · 20 days ago

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i wanna see you [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: lil oneshot bc i can’t stop thinking about paige singing for azzi to open the door

masterlist

“I wanna see you.” Paige’s loud, sing-songy voice penetrates through Azzi’s supposedly soundproof Bose earbuds, and Azzi resists the urge to slam her head against her desk.

“Paige, don’t piss me off right now,” she calls out, trying to focus on the words swimming around on her laptop screen.

She’s been working on her paper for what seems like hours, with Paige curled to her side for the first bit. At first, she’d tried to make it work. Brainstorming was easy enough, and she jotted down thoughts floating through her head as she’d structured her outline. But then Paige had rolled over, insisting on lying her head on Azzi’s chest, which inevitably came with the full weight of her 6’0 self pinning Azzi’s arm down. See, the thing about Paige Bueckers is that physical touch is her love language, so of course that meant that with her, there was no such thing as just a simple head on chest. Paige found every opportunity for maximum skin to skin contact, which meant her entire body was slumped over Azzi’s - a habit Azzi usually found endearing, but not when her paper was due in three hours.

With a sigh, Azzi had relented to her fate of only typing with one hand. But after five minutes of only being able to write a single painstakingly slow sentence, her right hand started to cramp and her left arm started falling asleep with pins and needles. “Paige,” she’d said gently. “Can you get up please? I really need to finish this.”

With a huff, Paige had dramatically flung herself to the other end of the bed. “My girl hates me,” she’d goaded under her breath, which Azzi had pretended not to hear for both of their sakes. Thankfully, with a couple of feet of space between them and full range of her hands, Azzi was able to finish the first draft of her introduction.

Some steady progress was finally being made until she felt a socked toe start rubbing the inner part of her calf. Looking up, she was met with hooded blue eyes and a smirk. “You look sexy right now, mami, working so hard.” The blonde has always been a little bit more down bad for Azzi whenever she wore her glasses, which the younger girl always gave her shit for but secretly loved.

On Azzi’s end, it certainly didn’t help that Paige was fresh from the shower, her hair down for once with blonde strands spilling over her shoulders. Her sweater had ridden up to show the outline of her abs, and her sweatpants were hanging on so low to her hips that Azzi could see her v-line. It had taken everything in Azzi not to throw away her laptop and kiss the other girl.

“Paige,” she reprimanded, masking her desire with irritatation. “No talking, okay? I really need to lock in.”

Pouting, Paige had shut up and resorted to scrolling mindlessly on Tiktok, thankfully with her volume down. But soon enough, she started laughing to herself, quietly. Azzi closed her eyes briefly, waiting for her to finish so she could write in peace, but Paige seemed to find each video funnier than the one before, her soft giggles turning into full on belly laughs. Azzi couldn’t take it anymore. “What could possibly be this fucking funny?”

Paige froze, eyes flicking up from her phone. “Ummm. It’s a drawing of us. Wanna see? You look hella goofy.” She eagerly turned her phone around, scooting closer to show Azzi, but Azzi pushed her hand away.

“Paige. Seriously. This is important, and I can’t focus.” She nudged her shoulder. “You gotta go.”

“Are you for real?” Paige’s mouth dropped a little. “You kicking me out of my own room?”

“Either you leave or I go back to my room and there will be no sleepover tonight.” Azzi’s voice was firm, leaving no room for an answer.

“This is fucked up,” Paige groaned, getting up from the bed to collect her things. “What am I supposed to do?”

“The exact same thing you’re doing here - but there.” Azzi pointed towards the door. “I’m sure the other girls are doing something fun. Go join them.”

“My own room. My own bed. My headphones,” Paige grumbled, choosing to ignore her girlfriend’s suggestions. “You might as well just break up with me.”

That had been a brief 20 minutes ago, and Azzi had thoroughly enjoyed the brief period of peace until she’d heard a thud, presumably of Paige slumping on the floor on the other side of the door. “Let me in,” Paige began singing. “I wanna see your face.”

Azzi grits her teeth.

“Please open the dooooor,” Paige continues. “I need you to open the door.”

Azzi turns up the volume of her music, but to no avail.

“Just one kiss,” Paige moans from outside. She hears amother thud, this time from her girlfriend’s head hitting the door. “One kiss and I’ll goooo.”

When Azzi opens the door, Paige stumbles forward into her, surprised. Azzi grabs the collar of the older girl’s shirt, pulling her in to press a firm kiss to her mouth. Paige responds eagerly, tongue swiping at her bottom lip as she tries to deepen the kiss, but Azzi gently pushes her away before it can get too far. “Satisfied?”

Paige grins dopily. Azzi plants another kiss on her lips before releasing her shirt. “Okay. Go chill out.” With a roll of her eyes, Paige finally gives up, ambling over to the couch to join KK’s live.

Two hours later, Azzi is finally done. She slams her laptop shut, her eyes bleary as she wanders out of the room. KK is on the couch, playing Fortnite. “Where’d Paige go?”

“I think she went to your room. Said she was gonna take a nap,” KK responded, not looking away from the TV.

When Azzi opens the door, Paige is slumped in her bed and cocooned in her favorite purple blanket, snores coming out of her parted lips. Azzi climbs onto the bed, hand wrapping around the older girl’s waist and face nuzzling into the nape of her shoulders. Paige stirs slowly before blinking awake. “You finished your essay?” she asks groggily, flipping around so they’re eye to eye.

Azzi nods, slinging a leg across the other girl’s hips. “Tired?”

“Mm.” Paige closes her eyes, almost falling back asleep in Azzi’s arms before realizing she’s still supposed to be mad. Eyes twitching, she crosses her arms, angling herself away from the younger girl’s body.

“You mad at me?” Azzi kisses her cheek, watching closely for her reaction. Paige’s hands stay folded across her chest, but her fingers twitch with restraint. Azzi notices and bites back a smile. “I’m sorry, honey.” She bites at her ear, capturing the soft flesh of her lobe between her teeth and tugging gently, but Paige remains stiff. “I had to focus.” She rolls over directly on top of Paige, smoothing back her blonde hair away from her face with both hands and rubbing her thumbs across her cheeks. “Let me make it up to you?”

“Lock me out of my own room again and we’re gonna have problems,” Paige threatens, trying to sound as scary as possible. She knows she’s failed when Azzi’s dimples appeared.

“Never again,” her girlfriend promises, beginning a trail of sweet, open mouthed kisses down Paige’s shoulder. This time, Paige responds, hips pressing up into her as one hand finds the back of her head, guiding her motions. “You’re a big baby, you know that?” Azzi teases, smiling fondly down at the blonde, who shakes her head indignantly. “But you’re my big baby.” She smothers Paige’s face in more kisses until the older girl can no longer fight back her smile.

“You finish your paper?” Paige asks.

“Yes. But remind me to never try and do homework with you ever again.” Azzi dips her head against Paige’s forehead.

“That’s offensive,” Paige complains. “I can lock in.”

“Don’t even try me,” Azzi argues back. “And don’t get me started on your fuck ass singing. You’re so obsessed with me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been able to stay away from you,” Paige admits. “Not since I was sixteen.” And she’s not wrong. Paige has never been able to stay away: not when they were kids on a plane, heading home after winning a gold medal. Not when they were in upperclassmen in high school, facetiming each other after every game into the hours of the morning. Not when Paige was a freshman, sending Azzi highlight reels and talking about the day they’d win a national championship together. Not even now, when they see each other every day, but Paige still falls a little bit more in love the more she knows every little thing about Azzi.

But Azzi hasn’t ever been able to stay away, either. Admitting that, though? She can save that for another day.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #uconnwbb #uconn wbb #wcbb #paige x azzi #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #fluff #fic #blurb

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writtendaydreamm · 23 days ago

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Appreciation

Summary: After a rough shift Langdon wants to show Y/n and the kids how much he appreciates them

Author's Note: I can't wait for the next episode!! Wrote this to tide me over till Thursday lol Also check out my other Langdon fic here!

“Call it.”

It was time. They did all they could for the young girl. It was sad and it was frustrating, but it was time. Everyone in that trauma bay knew it. Everyone except for Whitaker it seemed.

Giving the intern the benefit of the doubt, maybe he didn’t hear him the first time. Langdon repeated himself, call it. But to no avail. Rather than step back and pronounce the time of death, Whitaker continued performing chest compressions.

Ripping off his isolation gown and gloves, Langdon looked around the room, at the other staff, wondering if he was being punked right now. It seems the intern thinks he can just will her heart beat to return through sheer determination if he just kept going. As if he hadn’t been going for what at this point was 20 minutes of chest compressions with still no sign of a pulse or arterial line.

Patience running thin, Langdon gave the order one more time, pronouncing each word clearly and curtly.

“Whitaker, stop compressions and call the time of death.”

This was already a tough loss as it is, they did not need to drag it out. There comes a point when your efforts only do more damage than good. And they have reached that point.

“No, no, give me one more round,” Whitaker insisted between labored breaths. Sweat dripped down his brow, his forearms ached with each push against her chest but Whitaker could not bring himself to stop. They can’t call it. She can’t die. He can’t lose another one.

Langdon could only watch on in dismay as Whitaker paused compressions to check for a pulse, just to continue with chest compressions again after Princess confirmed there wasn’t one.

Turning to Princess and Jesse, Langdon gestured that they needed do something, say something since clearly his own attempts weren’t working. The pair of nurses stepped closer to Whitaker, trying to reason with him to stop. But nothing could get through to him. Like tunnel vision, he couldn’t see anything else, couldn’t hear anything else, couldn't care about anything else but getting this girl’s pulse back.

The trauma bay turned into a chorus of back and forth - the nurses trying to talk him down and Whitaker insisting he just needs more time, that she just needs more time.

There was nothing left to do for this patient. Yes, it was shitty. But it was the reality of the situation. This was driving Langdon up the wall. All his own personal grief - over losing this young girl, over Whitaker’s stubbornness, over another patient he lost in Central 5 earlier today - came to a head.

“She’s dead. She’s fucking dead,” Langdon cried out.

The entire room was stunned into silence. It came out harsher and louder than he had intended, but it needed to be said. And it seemed to do the trick as Whitaker slowly stopped his compressions, and stepped back from the bed, adjusting his scrubs.

“She’s just a kid,” he stammered softly to himself, still in disbelief as he caught his breath. “She’s just a kid.”

Realizing that this was probably the first kid Whittaker’s lost, Langdon let out a deep breath.

Losing a patient is never easy, but the kids, they really get to you. Even Langdon, who was as pragmatic as one can be when it came to losing patients, often found it hard to reconcile with the loss of the young ones they couldn’t save. Especially so now that he had young kids of his own, Theo and Emmie both only 6 and 4 respectively.

Not that they get any easier, but first one is always the hardest. He’ll never forget his first. The kid was only nine. It was septic shock. They treated him with antibiotics, fluids, pressors, everything they could think of to fight the infection. But it was just too late. It had already spread and progressed beyond the point of saving. Exhausting all the viable options, Langdon was the one to ultimately pronounce the boy dead after he had succumbed to multi organ failure.

That exact moment ran through Langdon’s mind as he watched Whitaker struggle to accept that they’d lost the girl lying before them now. For a moment he saw a bit of himself in the intern.

“You try your best to save everyone, but you just can’t save them all. It’s fucked up but it’s the job,” Langdon said offering what consolation he could.

It was his best attempt to assuage some of the guilt and remorse written in bold all across Whitaker’s face. But he knew just as well as anyone that those feelings aren’t the kind that can be assuaged or absolved. Those sorts of feelings never really go away. They stick with you, like a pesky thorn in your side. The pain only dulling over time, but never going away.

“You gotta call it man,” Langdon said, offering the intern a supportive pat on the back.

Looking around at all the eyes on him, Whitaker straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“Time of death, 15:45.”

---

Looking down at the colorful beaded bracelet on his wrist, seeing the letters spell out DAD, Langdon‘s heart clenched.

He had just gotten out of the family room where he and Dr. Robby broke the news to the young girl’s parents. As the lead attending, Robby typically handled that sort of thing on his own but he encouraged Langdon to join him this time. He thought it was important Langdon got more comfortable delivering this sort of sensitive news, that he learned how to do so both professionally and empathetically. After all, he was about to be an attending himself soon enough.

Typically quite the cynic in the ER, he didn’t expect to be as affected by the parents' reactions as he was. Watching the light drain from their eyes replaced by an emptiness. Hearing that visceral, guttural cry the mother wept as she broke down in the father’s arms. It all felt like a punch to the gut. Being a parent himself, he couldn’t even begin to fathom the world-shattering heartbreak they were going through. And he prayed he would never have to.

Upon leaving the family room, he branched off from Robby heading down an opposite hallway in search of a quiet space. The best he could find was a little corner a few feet from the pair of patients parked waiting for a bed upstairs in that same hall. It wasn't ideal, but he needed to call Y/n and this was as quiet of a spot as he was going to find in this place.

As the phone rang, he leaned against the wall tiredly.

Today was not his day.

First he loses that patient in Central 5. A motorcyclist who had come in critical condition and just wasn’t able to survive the injuries he sustained leaving behind a pregnant girlfriend. And now this loss. A young girl, with an undiagnosed cardiac condition that they tried their hardest to, but couldn’t save either, leaving her mother and father now childless.

Growing antsy waiting for Y/n to answer he stood up from the wall, pacing now as his mind wandered to darker thoughts. Like how that motorcyclist’s baby will never get to know its father, never hear his voice. How his girlfriend is going to have to raise that kid on her own now. And how that young girl’s parents will never see her grow up, never hear her voice call out to them mom or dad again, how they probably never thought they’d been the ones to outlive her.

These sort of cases made you appreciate all that you have just that much more. Made you want to grab hold of all that you love dear and squeeze tight.

Although he can’t quite hug his wife and kids right now, he figured hearing their voices was close enough. Eyes drawn down to the bracelet sitting on his wrist again, he silently begged pick up, pick up, pick up.

“Hey babe,” Y/n answered finally, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to check in, hear your voice,” he said honestly.

While the thought was sweet, she knew something must’ve been up. Langdon barely had time to eat during his shifts, he certainly didn’t have time to call her just because. Before she could bring it up, Langdon asked for the kids. He wanted, no, needed to hear them too.

She could hear the urgency in his voice, but the kids were napping right now. Both kids were understandably worn out. And honestly so was Y/n. They’d all just gotten home not too long ago. Theo from baseball practice, Emmie from gymnastics class, and Y/n from running errands in between picking and dropping off both kids to their respective activities.

“I think I might take a nap too,” she joked.

“Take one, you deserve it,” he urged.

It was a Saturday which was always a busy one in their household. Langdon usually had weekends off which meant they shared the workload. But today he was covering for another doctor who was out sick this week which left Y/n to carry the load of two people all on her own today.

“Oh, I know I deserve one,” she teased, “But I can’t.”

Although a nap sounded really, really good right now, she just had too much to do. She had to cook dinner, do the laundry, get the kids cleaned up, take the dog out and the list just went on and on.

“Look, I get off in about an hour. Don’t worry about the chores, or cooking, just relax for a bit.”

“Frank, it's fine. I was just kidding,” she assured. “I’ve got everything handled here. I mean I’m sure you’ve had a long day too.”

If only she knew the half of it, he thought to himself. But regardless, he continued, insisting she take a nap and relax.

“Baby, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you to. I’ve got dinner covered, and I’ll help with whatever I can when I get home, okay?”

“You’re suspiciously eager to do housework. Are you compensating for something? You bringing home another puppy? Should I be worried?” Y/n wondered aloud with a nervous laugh.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she knew her husband well enough to know there was something else going on here.

“I just want my wife to relax on her day off. What’s wrong with that?”

Y/n relented. She wasn’t entirely convinced by his reasoning, but she was letting it go. For now.

---

Busy putting away some towels in the linen closet upstairs, Y/n rushed down when she heard some shuffling. She worried maybe Max, their puppy, had gotten into something he shouldn’t have, or that maybe the kids got into a fight.

But when she got to the bottom of the stairs Y/n was met with the most heartwarming scene. Theo and Langdon were on their knees rubbing Max whose tail wagged furiously. And Emmie had taken the opportunity to jump on her father’s back, playing with his hair, laughing as their dog rolled over on its back asking for even more rubs. How Y/n wished she had her phone on her to take a snapshot of this picture perfect moment.

“Hey, baby,” Langdon greeted, standing up now, carrying Emmie on his back. “How was that nap?”

Y/n laughed, as she closed the distance between them, giving him a light peck.

“Much needed,” she smiled against his lips before stepping back, letting him walk past her into the living room. “How was work?”

Langdon stalled, spinning Emmie around. She stuck her arms out like an airplane as he moved them all across the living room, using this time to think about how he wanted to reply. Should he give her the whole truth, part of the truth, or just lie about it all?

“Work was work, you know how it goes,” he said coolly.

He hoped that would suffice, that she wouldn’t push. And though she wanted to, though she could tell he was holding something back, Y/n didn’t. Not yet at least.

“Mom,” Theo said excitedly, coming to stand beside her holding Max in his arms. “Dad said we’re having ice cream sundaes for dinner.”

“Is that right?” Y/n said brow raised, looking at her husband questioningly.

Langdon plopped Emmie on the couch before quickly correcting their son. “Nice try kid. I said sundaes after dinner. Not for dinner.”

“Worth a shot,” Theo shrugged, before setting Max down to chase after him.

Shaking her head with a laugh. What a troublemaker they’ve got on their hands. She pointed a finger at Langdon accusingly.

“That’s your son.”

Knowing what a handful he was growing up, Langdon couldn’t disagree with her there, holding his hands up guiltily. Getting up to join her as she headed into the kitchen, he ruffled Theo’s hair as the boy ran past him.

“So I was thinking I could cook up some salmon tonight. We still have some in the freezer right?” he asked, falling into step with her.

Y/n slowed her steps, eyeing him skeptically. She knows he said he’d take care of dinner, but she figured he’d pick something up on the way home or maybe they’d order in - not that he’d actually cook. The thought of the prep, the cooking, the cleaning up afterwards? She just couldn’t be bothered right now and was confused why he didn’t feel the same.

“I mean you just got home. We can just do takeout or something. Are you sure you wanna cook?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, his hand brushing against the small of her back as he moved past her into the kitchen. “Think of it as my apology for leaving you solo on a Saturday.”

Feeling a little guilty letting him do all the cooking right after a 9 hour shift, Y/n rolled up her sleeves to wash her hands and to start cutting up some veggies. But Langdon wasn’t having any of that. Sure he was tired, but after the day he had, all he wanted was to spend the rest of the night showing his wife and kids all his love and appreciation for them. And part of that was not letting y/n lift another finger for the rest of the night.

He pushed her out of the kitchen, literally. His hands on her waist, guiding her gently but steadily back into the living room. Langdon gave her a reassuring kiss, silencing her protests, before telling her not to enter the kitchen again, to go and relax.

Although she could tell something was definitely up with her husband, she also knew there was no getting it out of him right now. So Y/n went and relaxed - or tried to at least. In a household of four (five including Max) being able to truly relax was rarer than going a whole day without stepping on a toy or slipping on a sock. At any given point in time, there was always something that needed to be done. So she did the most relaxing task she could think of - laundry.

---

“Please, please, please Mommy!”

“Pretty please! Can we?”

Y/n stood with her arms on her hips, trying her hardest to stay steadfast and not cave.

They were already thrown way off schedule. Dinner ran a little late, and making ice cream sundaes together was a lot of fun but also took a lot of time. It was now 8:03PM and definitely past the kids’ bedtime. She and Langdon should’ve already had them all tucked in by now. Instead Langdon was on the couch with the kids who were 10 minutes into a new animated movie, and begging Y/n to let them stay up to finish it.

“Yeah come on, babe,” Langdon joined in. “It’s the weekend. Just let them finish the movie and then they’ll head straight to bed. Right guys?”

Theo and Emmie nodded their heads up and down enthusiastically, promising they would. Now all three began pleading in unison.

Overwhelmed and clearly outnumbered on this one, Y/n rolled her eyes at her own weak resolve. How could she possibly say no to those three when they all looked at her with the same eyes she fell in love with. A round of cheers and thank yous erupted as she gave in.

“Can’t have movie night without popcorn, can we?” Langdon turned to the kids who cheered again in agreement. “Be right back guys.”

Seeing an opportunity to finally have a real conversation with him, Y/n followed close behind Langdon as he headed into the kitchen,

“I could’ve sworn we still had a couple bags of the extra buttery kind left,” he mumbled disappointedly, looking through their pantry and only finding a bag of organic, lightly salted popcorn. “Guess this’ll have to do.”

“It’s better for them anyway,” Y/n said, grabbing a large bowl from the cabinet.

Watching as he poured the popcorn out, she debated how to approach him about all of his behavior, which although touching, also felt a bit off. It started with that phone call this afternoon which she initially tried to just brush off. But then he came home and insisted on cooking dinner after a long day - usually they’d just heat some leftovers or pick up takeout. Then he promised the kids ice cream sundaes after dinner, something they typically don’t do because it's just too much sugar before bed. And now he was letting the kids stay up way past bedtime for an impromptu movie night, which Y/n would've been upset about if she wasn't more concerned about what’s going on with her husband.

“Okay, I’ve held my tongue, but I need to know, what’s going on with you?” she said, keeping her tone light, afraid of sounding too accusing or critical.

Popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth, he shook his head, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

Seriously? She tilted her head at him, unconvinced. Who did he think he was talking to? Who did he think he was fooling?

“Frank,” she said, her tone a mixture of warning and worry.

Up until now Langdon managed to avoid having this conversation. As much as he hoped maybe he could get away with not having this conversation at all, he knew the woman he married. From the moment they sat down at the dinner table, Y/n had tried getting him to talk about his day, to shed some of the weight he was clearly carrying around. Considering the events of his day weren't something he was quite ready to talk about, and definitely weren't kid-friendly, he turned the focus onto the kids instead. Asking all about how baseball practice was and how gymnastics class went. She didn't ask again at the table, or when they had their sundaes. But Langdon could feel her worried gaze, hear the suspicion in her voice, see the way her eyes never stopped searching his, trying to find a way in, to unlock whatever it was he kept hidden behind them. It was just a matter of time before she cornered him like she had now.

Nowhere left run, nothing to hide behind, no kids around to deflect, he sighed.

“We had a couple of tough losses,” he started, scratching the back of his neck.

It was unexpectedly cathartic to hear himself say that out loud, to acknowledge it. All the events leading up to those losses, all the measures they took, all the ways it went wrong flashed in his mind. Like floodgates opening, all the his feelings and thoughts came rushing out.

Listening to every word, she rubbed his back comfortingly as as he told her about the soon-to-be dad and about the little girl not much older than Theo that they lost today.

“Oh I’m so sorry, baby,” she said, instinctively wrapping her arm around him

Langdon was an expert at compartmentalizing his work and personal life, rarely ever taking home the emotional baggage from his shifts. The loss of these two patients must have really struck a chord to be affecting him this way. Her own heart sank at just the thought of those patients and of their families left to grieve them. She couldn’t imagine the toll it was taking on Langdon who was actually there as they died, who had to face their families afterwards.

“Yeah it was a rough day,” he said, the arm wrapped around her brining her in closer as he kissed the top of her head. “But it got me thinking about how lucky I am to get to come home to you and the kids. Just wanted to go the extra mile tonight. Y’know, do something nice for you guys, even if it is just dinner and ice cream.”

“You make yourself out to be this tough, badass ER doctor but really you’re just a big softie huh,” Y/n smiled up at him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he rolled his eyes, brushing her off but not denying it.

“No really, everything you've done tonight is really sweet Frank,” Y/n trailed off.

Langdon noticed a silent “but” at the end of that sentence. She may not have said it out loud, but they had been married long enough that he knew it was there. He looked down at her with a nervous smile.

“Alright spit it out. It’s really sweet Frank, but what?”

Y/n chuckled that he beat her to the punch. While there was one thing still bothering her, she wasn’t sure she was even going to say anything about it at the moment. It didn’t seem right to nag him after he just opened up to her. But since he brought it up first, she might as well spit it out like he said.

“Did you really have to encourage them to stay up this late?” she nodded back at the kids in the living room. “You know we have them on a schedule for a reason. They’re just like you, and get all cranky when they don’t get enough sleep.”

Langdon scoffed, taking offense to that cranky comment. “First off, I don’t get cranky. And second, they'll probably pass out soon anyways. They’re more tired than they even know after today and all that sugar is gonna have them crashing - hard. In fact, I bet you a back rub that they don’t make it halfway through the movie.”

“For the record, yes, you do get cranky. And for all our sakes, you better be right about the kids,” she pointed up at him rattling on.

God, he thought, a satisfying smirk spreading across his face. Even as she was giving him a hard time he was absolutely taken by her.

Grabbing the hand pointing at him, Langdon placed it behind his neck smoothly. He leaned in, lips brushing against hers, silencing her, telling her not to worry before kissing her slow and chaste. He needed this more than he realized. He moved his tongue to graze her lips, seeking permission which she granted happily, her other hand roaming up his chest to rest around his neck as well. It didn’t take long for the kiss to turn heated and needy as he lost himself in her touch, her warmth, in the feeling of her lips against his.

Langdon shifted their positions, pressing her against the kitchen counter as he gripped her waist tightly, pulling her impossibly close. Feeling his hands start to wander, Y/n gathered what little self control she had left, and pulled back, reminding him the kids were still waiting for their popcorn.

Langdon’s head hung disappointedly at the interruption.

“Don’t look so sad, movie night was your idea remember,” she teased, patting his chest mockingly, pushing herself off of him.

Grabbing the bowl of popcorn, he draped an arm around her shoulders as they joined the kids in living room.

---

The house was quiet, save for Max’s adorable snoring and a few creaks in the hardwood floors as Langdon carried Theo, and Y/n carried Emmie, up the stairs and into their rooms.

Gently laying the boy down, he brushed his hair back to place a kiss on his forehead, tucking him into his blanket. Moving right across the hall to Emmie’s room, he leaned against the doorway contently, watching as Y/n put their daughter to bed as well.

“What did I tell you?” he whispered as she walked towards him. “Not even halfway through, and they were out.”

“Yeah, you were right,” she shook her head with a smile, brushing past him.

“Alright,” he said, sticking his hand out, gesturing to pay up. “You owe me a back rub.”

She knew he was joking but she did want to do something nice for him. He deserved it. Even after a tough shift, he still came home and gave his best effort, still found the energy to spend quality time with her and the kids.

“Sure I can give you a back rub, but there’s something else I can do that I think you might enjoy more.”

“Oh yeah?” Langdon said brows raised, catching her drift.

“Yeah,” she teased, leading him by the hand to their bedroom. “Wanna show you my appreciation too.”

As eager as Max after a bone, Langdon followed her lead happily.

#frank langdon x reader #dr langdon x reader #langdon x reader #frank langdon #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #dad!langdon x reader

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bunny-jpeg · 3 months ago

Text

sinful sentences (seven)

max verstappen - "i don't think you've had enough already."

tags: smut/pwp, mad!max, crybaby!reader, norris!reader, lying & manipulation, drinking/intoxication, dubious consent, unprotected sex, dark themes, this fic is insane don't look at me, doggy style, baby trapping/breeding kink

sinful sentences catalogue

hunger. that was all max could think of when he saw you. he knew that lando norris had a sister, he had even seen photos of you while scrolling aimlessly throughout instagram. but in the photos with your brother, you were often in baggier clothes. while they were trendy pieces, you liked hiding your figure rather than showing it off. so imagine the surprise that max had when during a sunny weekend at silverstone, there was you in a lovely sundress.

who would've thought you'd make mclaren orange look good. but when he saw you in that colour, he wasn't thinking of mclaren. he was thinking of home, thinking of himself.

and whatever higher power was out there happened to put you right where he needed you.

partying after a dizzying weekend felt good. and you were at the same bar he was at, without your brother however. he noticed you were with some other women, but you stayed behind once they left for their ubers. you were happy to be there, even as you got a little more wobbly as the night progressed. max watched you from his seat, you were too drunk to catch him staring. you weren't in that sundress anymore, but max couldn't help but still eye you.

and then like a siren's call, he was pulled from his seat and into the empty one next to you. you looked up from your phone and looked at him and jumped a little. there was a certain haziness in your eyes as you tried to process.

"max verstappen? what are you doing here?" then broke into a big, silly (drunk) grin before you put your phone down and had another sip of your rather strong cocktail.

"enjoying the night before the next flight to the next race. what are you doing here still?"

you finished the drink, "i was with my friends, but they left early. i was supposed to be picked up by lando... but i think he's either asleep or with that girl he's been into. some model, don't know her." you replied as you looked at your phone that you left on the shiny wood of the bar.

"a brother shouldn't leave his sister all alone at a place like this. someone could hurt you, and that would be on lando's head." he placed a hand over top of yours and said, "i guess i'll just have to look after you tonight." he smiled softly, the kind of smile that pulled drunk you in.

you giggled and tried to pull your hand away, "i can look after myself, max." but he tightened his grip on your hand on the bar, "after all, lando is your top rival right now." you tried to sound a little cheeky.

"then let me buy you another drink. i don't think you've had enough already." he said with what you thought was humor in his tone, but as the bartender made another sweet alcoholic drink, max had other intentions with you.

you ended up in max's car after one drink became two. you weren't paying attention when max asked for the drinks to have two shots in them instead of one. so sugar plus four shots of vodka in your already drunk system made you one tipsy little angel. by then you were a little more agreeable to max's offer of protection.

you wobbled a little more and clung to the front of max's t-shirt. you pressed your nose into the fabric of it and gave it a deep inhale. then giggled, "you smell good."

max held you by the back and guided you towards his car, "well, i can't be smelling bad, can i?"

you looked at him and pouted, "nuh-uh." then rubbed your soft cheek up against the softer fabric and exhaled deeply. except that exhale sounded a little like a moan and max felt his cock twitch in his jeans. you were just perfect, huh? max loved it, he loved the feeling of you up against him. it was hard to depart when he had to get you into the car.

and by the time he was in the driver's seat, you were looking at him with a frown and tears in your ears. max raised his eyebrows at you and you sniffled pathetically, "i thought you weren't coming back." and max near had to bite his fist to keep it together. holy fuck.

he reached over and cupped your face and wiped your tears with his thumbs, "aw, don't cry. don't cry. i'll make it all better." he said with a hint of love in his tone. but he wouldn't call the feelings for you loving. rather he carnally needed you. the way a hawk needed a rabbit. or a wolf craved the flesh of a deer. he tested the waters by kissing you and when you didn't recoil. he knew he had you.

it was only a matter of time before he had you in his hotel room. the skirt of your dress was pushed up and you were barely focused enough to get your heels off. when you bent over, you were uneasy as you tried to get the straps undone and max was rubbing up against your slightly exposed ass like a hungry animal.

"i should text my brother." you said.

"after, after." he wrapped a strong arm around you, "like you said, he is either asleep or busy. you don't want to bother him do you?" when he could, he kissed behind your ear and then said softly, "plus, i can protect you better. i won't leave you out to dry." his grip on you tightened, "you'll be good for me tonight, right?"

you asked, "what are you going to do to me?" your voice was uneasy.

"if your brother wants to take my title. then i guess i'm just going to have to take his sister." he felt you hold onto his arms around you and he kissed you warm, sweet flesh once more.

it was dizzying getting into max's bed. his large hands on you. you didn't realize how large they were until he slid one up the skirt of your dress and grope your ass. basically the whole cheek in his grasp as he pressed himself up against you. you both in bed together, his lips on yours as he slowly got your panties off. your brain was too muddled with liquor to properly consent, but you knew the feeling was electric.

all rationale was out of the window once he tossed the cotton panties over his shoulder then worked the dress off of you, it ended up around your waist. he then bit at your breasts through your bra. he said to you with a heated tone, "fat tits." he rubbed his clothed cock up against your bare thigh, "see, i know how to take care of you. bad, bad men out there." but not him, never him. even as he groped you until you whined.

"bad men?"

"yeah. those who wouldn't treat a woman like you correctly. take advantage of you." he said as he took the dress off of you fully off from around your hips. and it ended up on the floor. his hands were back on your breasts, "men who are more animal than human. monsters." he peppered kisses across your tits and rubbed against you further, "i'll take care of you. protect you. no one else can have you."

you were trapped under him but as he toyed with your clit, the thoughts couldn't fully form. the consent of all of this felt complicated, but as he teased you, your body seemed to submit to the dutchman. you couldn't tell that his obsession for you grew deeper as he bit heavy bruises onto your chest.

"do you think i can keep you safe? protect you, keep you safe from all those monsters." he rubbed his cock up against you for a moment long before he stripped out of his clothes, "i want to hear you say it." then pressed a hand around your throat, "tell me, i'm the best."

you looked at him with wide eyes for a moment and when he loosened the grip you said, "you're the best, max." your tone wavered due to the liquor in your system, "are you going to use protection?"

max just smiled after he got his shirt off. the kind of smile that made front pages, a winner's smile. he patted your cheek a little rougher and said, "of course. i said i'd take care of you, no? can't have little norris' running around." little verstappens were a different story though. the rustle of his belt and the zip of his jeans. he stripped of his clothes.

he got you onto your stomach and raised your hips to be leveled with his erect cock.

"condom?" you squeaked.

he looked at your wet cunt for a moment and replied, "already on." a bold faced lie as he sank into you, completely unprotected. call it a sick obsession, call it a need for claim. a small voice in max's head told him to back out now, before he got in too deep. but it was overshadowed by the larger urge to keep going. to bruise your poor little cervix with his cock, to finish right up into your womb and make sure it all took.

you were so out of it, your noises loud as he fucked you. his pace was quick and his movements were fluid. you felt like heaven, just as he expected. your cunt seemed to pull him in deeper. even in your inebriated state, your body knew what it wanted. five-eleven blond dutch driver with a cock that could ruin you.

his movements felt good to you, your noises weren't restrained thanks to high blood alcohol level you had. he took you from behind and made sure that your head was pressed into the covers. just in case you found out max's little white lie. he held you down by the back of your neck with his other hand on your hip. he pressed into you, as deep as he'd go.

his cock hit all the right places, slammed against your sweet spot that made you sputter out a sweet moan. you felt almost degraded, that he fucked you like an animal. on you knees he rammed into you and it left your brain feeling dizzy. the pleasure and the burn of liquor left your head cloudy and your words jumbled.

he was fucking you, as filth poured from his mouth. you could find little to react with. his breath hot against your warmed skin as he thrusted in and out of you. you couldn't process what he was saying, but the word pregnancy made your cunt clench at instinct. that only made him chuckle as he kept moving. you prayed that the condom would protect any mishaps.

when he spoke dutch to you, the confusion only grew. you didn't know a lick of the language. you learned french and italian, not dutch. so max's words went over your head, "you drive me crazy, little rabbit. the way you look, the way you move around the paddock. your stupid brother made a big mistake not picking you up tonight. letting me have you all to myself. maybe i'll send him a bottle of something expensive when i get his sister knocked up. how does that sound? out of mclaren orange and into proper dutch orange. would be fitting because when i'm done with you, you'll be at least nine percent dutch with how much i'll finish inside of you." his mouth ran and he sounded insane.

you sniffled as the flood of emotion made you cry a little. and max only shuddered from the feeling. he kissed your cheek as he rocked into you. you whimpered as you felt his cock just invade every inch of you. he fit perfectly, didn't stretch you too much that it would make you cry more. he fit in a way that made it hard to focus on much else. hence why your little cry-baby self was brought to tears from the feeling. when max asked what was wrong, you replied, "what are you saying to me?"

"nothing to worry about." he said, "you felt so good that i got my languages mixed up." he knew you didn't know the language, so it allowed him to speak more freely. his want for you. his intentions with your sweet body. he kissed your pulse point as leaned into you further. bodies flushed together like two halves of a whole. "you'll never need to worry about anything again." his words like a promise as he continued to fuck you.

"no more dutch." you whined drunkenly, "not fair!"

he let go of your neck and kissed you on the lips with your cheek against the pillow. the kiss was at an awkward angle, but it established dominance in a certain way. you were under him, taking his pleasure after he basically poured liquor down your throat.

he was mad for you. insane in a way that would shock most. max was a nice guy off the track. but tonight was fucking a fellow driver's sister raw. bad behavior, verstappen. that could land him a slap on the wrist! more community service for flooding your cunt with his cum. a penalty for getting you drunk. hell, even disqualification for touching what wasn't his. he should know better, but with a cunt like yours, the fia could throw the book at him! lando norris could choke his lights out, but that wouldn't make you un-pregnant. and max wasn't letting you raise the next best without him.

the pace quickened. his want for you grew with each heavy thrust. he could taste the pleasure like blood in his mouth. while he couldn't spew out filth, he thought about it as the sounds of your fucking filled the room. the scent and heat of sex was apparent as he ruined your sweet cunt.

a good pussy for him, keep his satisfied. he licked his lips as he kissed your back once more as his pace staggered. his want was apparent and his climax was near. you choked out more moans and even let out a few more tears. he shushed you and said, "don't cry, don't cry. doesn't it feel good? see, this is what being protected feels like. to be taken care of. am i the best?"

you nodded, "yes, max." your cheeks stung with heat and you could feel the twist in his stomach. you swallowed and asked, "is the condom on right?"

"it's on perfectly, now stop worrying." he thrusted all the way in and held his cock pressed up against your cervix for a moment. the pressure made you moan and your mind go blank for a moment. someone like you shouldn't be asking so many questions, it wasn't an endearing quality.

pleasure became all consuming quickly. your pussy could only take so much before you clutched onto the hotel sheets and arched your back as much as you could. your slick cunt held onto his cock, like it knew what it wanted and climaxed around him.

"that's it." he cooed, "perfect." his words were more intoxicating than the liquor. you felt in a haze as he continued to fuck you. you stopped asking about the condom so he let go of your neck and held onto your hips with both hands.

he moved quickly, he moved with a fever in his blood. and he tensed up for a moment before he relaxed as he finished inside of you. the damage was done and whatever happened next he'd stand by you. bright smile on his face and a protective hand on your swollen middle.

just as you should be. knocked up and tied to max in every way he could get you.

he got you onto your back with his cock only out of you for a second. but you weren't focusing on anything. your eyes were hazy and completely unfocused. perfect for him to sink back in, another round for extra measure.

the thing about hunger is that it always returned. and despite a night of unprotected passion with you, max wanted more. he wanted to feel the tight wetness of your cunt. so when you were shown tickets to the next race, you were more than happy to go see your brother.

and while max smiled when you said that, he only cupped your cheek and tapped your face gently with your thumb. soon enough, he thought, you'd be cheering him on in redbull's colours with a firmer slope in your middle. maybe it didn't work in silverstone, but there was more than enough season left to fully claim lando norris' sister. because once the hunger set in, max wanted nothing more than to keep sinking his teeth into your soft skin.

marked, claimed and owned by max verstappen. <3

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sungiescheotluv · 3 months ago

Text

mirror muscles ⭑.ᐟ na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive, gym talk(?)

summary: doing your new resolutions with jaemin has always worked in your favor, most goals ticked off your lists. however, when you mention going to gym, jaemin's enthusiasm reaches new heights.

notes: hiyaaaa! it feels like forever since i last posted (two days omg 🙄) but i do hope you pretty stars enjoy this very indulgent fic! as an aspiring gym girlie, i'd do anything for this kind of princess treatment (particularly from jaemin 😋) also, the title of this is based on the soft play song with the same name (emo jisung, lemme give u some music recs). ok, i think i'm done here. wishing u all the best, much loveeee! <3

Note to self: never, under any circumstances, tell Jaemin your New Year’s resolution. Because one peek at your ambitious list and Jaemin will pry you from your warm bed, at the ass crack of dawn (might you add) to go to the gym because ‘nothing beats a morning pump.’

If you weren’t stupidly in love with him, you would’ve dropped a dumbbell on his toe.

How you get to this point is a lot more wholesome. Since the start of your relationship, once snow trickles down for Christmas, you two sit at your dining table with your laptops opened on Pinterest and pin-point what goals you'd like to achieve the following year. This way, you’re not shouldering your ambitions alone, having each other every step of the year as you tick off box after box. So far, you’ve managed to complete most of your goals. Go traveling, learn a new language, cook more home-cooked meals, limit screen time (still working on that) and many more. Jaemin was also progressing well: dedicating more time in his photography, reducing his coffee intake, going to bed earlier and visiting his mother more.

For this year’s moodboard, while collecting pictures of your next set of goals, fitness content shows up in your recommendations. People in pilates studios in their pastel pink gym-sets. The aesthetic draws you in, how content people feel moving their body besides getting their 10k steps a day in. More photos start showing up, people sculpting their pride in the gym, sharing personal stories of their fitness journey and how the gym has taught them so much about themselves. What they’re capable of, what they never thought they could do and what opportunities lie await now that they’re happier in themselves. It all seems promising, even more so when you reconsider how bright your best friend’s life’s become since making the choice. She’d rarely accompany you to a game of badminton and now she’s pioneering her own run-club, amassing a social media following the size of an army.

You’d have to ask her how to get started once she’s back from her influencer trip (maybe content creating is something you needed to hop on). Then again, peering over your laptop screen to Jaemin’s glowing face, you could simply ask him. He’s been consistently going to the gym for a while now, to the point where you fake-pleaded for SM to close their gym because your boyfriend's become too buff for you to function. He’s always been gorgeous, with a face that could charm a snake, but now that he’s carved like a Renaissance sculpture, you couldn’t form a coherent sentence around him. Of course, aesthetic reasons are what lured him into the space, but he relays it’s become a lot more than that for him.

“I want to be strong, not only to build my confidence but to also protect my loved ones,” he looks directly at you, a serious hue to his eyes. “It’s another form of self-love. Showing up for myself, proving I can do hard things, even when I don’t want to. That I can step out of my comfort zone, try new things and ultimately, live a longer life. Because at the end of the day, as much as I do this for me, I also do it so I can help you carry groceries. So that I can move furniture around when we move in together, be the one that my family calls if they need something physically demanding done,”

Fondness curves his lips, a flicker of timidity dart his eyes down to the desk before they flicker back up at you, astoundingly earnest as he says, “I’d also want to keep up with our kids. Carry them when they’re tired or run after them in a park. Those are my reasons.”

Something stutters in your chest. Then, leaps. Over the course of your three year relationship, it’s only natural that topics like this are mentioned, like marriage and children. Heck, you two shared a Pinterest board of decor ideas for the shared apartment you’d been on the lookout for. So, it shouldn't phase you but it does. How far into the future he sees with you. How he shares a bit of himself so effortlessly, in a way that lacks pressure and possesses good faith. Love and promise. All prominent themes throughout your relationship, one you thank your lucky stars for.

As a consequence, you flush. Folding like the early days of your relationships. “You’re getting bold these days. We haven’t even moved in together.”

“All in good time, angel,” he grins, looking a bit lovesick. “In any case, if this is something you wanna do, I’d be more than happy to help. Go to the gym with you so you don’t feel anxious, show you how to use the machines, get you workout clothes - whatever you want.”

You could marry this man.

You extend your arm across the wooden table, hand finding his as your fingers interlace, the same song and dance you’d hope you’d spend your life doing. “Thanks, baby.”

And now? Now, divorce weighs heavily on your mind.

In an effort to avoid the New Year’s crowd, Jaemin wakes you up early in the slum of days after Christmas where time doesn’t exist, cuddling into your half-sleeping figure with a gentle voice. Coaxes you to get up, slip on the new gym clothes you’d spent on his card (his treat, he said) and somehow, here you are, stinging eyes squinting under fluorescent lights with some EDM track playing faintly in the background.

“Oh, baby. Don’t look so down, you’re in good hands,” Jaemin coos, hand squishing your cheeks under your chin before pulling you into his chest, warm and comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Couldn’t this wait until,” you glance at your fitness tracker, your own treat to yourself. “Midday? No one needs to be here at 9 am.”

“Maybe, but it’s a good way to start your day. Or get it out of the way,” he chuckles, spinning you out his arms before he wiggles his eyebrows. “Plus, who doesn’t want to see my muscles first thing in the morning?”

He drives home his point by kissing his bicep, something that should make you cringe out your skin or disappear without a trace, but no. Perhaps you’re still sleepy, shielding a snicker with your hand because of how lame (said adoringly) he is.

“You said you’d usually start off with thirty minutes on the treadmill, right?” You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you. I’ll run for fifteen and row until you're done. So you don’t constantly have me in your ear.”

You laugh, because as grumpy as you’d been on the way here, you could never grow tired of him. All his carefree and mischief nature, his sweet and generous manner - you couldn’t even if you tried.

Few people populate the modern gym, near to none in the cardio section as Jaemin refreshes your memory on all the buttons before you begin. Beside you, he does sporadic sprints, no heavy breaths clouding his chatter with you. You, on the other hand, keep it relatively reserved for your first time, upping the speed when you want to challenge yourself, surprising yourself with the distance and time that flies by. Soon enough, Jaemin’s squeezing your hand and moving a few rows back where the rowing machines are, leaving you with your walking playlist.

Again, in a flash, time passes by, upbeat songs blaring in your headphones that make you dance through the next fifteen minutes, a simmer of sadness coming when you’ve reached time with a whole host of songs still in the queue.

“You can listen to them next time,” Jaemin winks before leading you into a dark, LED room dotted with mirrors and yoga mats. This is one of the rooms booked for classes, but for now, it’s your stretching area where you cycle through some stretches and Jaemin jokes about folding you like a pretzel.

The one other person in the room - a woman in her thirties - coughs, before smirking your way, the heat of your embarrassment migrating to your cheeks as you swat at Jaemin. He simply laughs, stretching to reveal his happy trail and suddenly, you forget why you’re even mad.

When you’re finished, he shows you different sections - an assortment of cable machines, the weights area and then to an area with more machines. There’s a few people occupying the machines, immersed in their own world with flushed cheeks and sweat seeping into their clothes. It fills you with relief, that no one’s focused on you and your sweating figure as if you had ‘gym newbie’ written across your forehead. Jaemin shows you some of the machines he uses, depending on what he wants to work out but for the most part, lets you decide what machines you’d want to use - if any.

“Why do I need to put on muscle? You putting me in a headlock is good enough.” You fake-complain, feeding off the gentle approach Jaemin’s taken in trying to convert you to a gym rat.

“And you say I’m the dirty one,” he tsks with a matching grin. “You don’t need to do anything. All I’m doing is showing you the options you have. The more things you try, the more likely you’ll find something you lik-”

“Is that the slut machine?”

Jaemin’s head jerks back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “What are you talking about?’

“This one,” you approach the machine closeby, pointing to the photo attached along with its actual name - hip adduction. “Isn’t this the one where people like, open their legs like crazy?”

Jaemin shakes his head, amusement in the smile he swipes with his hand. “Yes, it is. Wanna give it a go?”

“Hell yeah,” you climb into the machine in a rush, finding the experience more exciting than scary as Jaemin makes sure everything is in order. “This is gonna be hilarious.”

“I’m setting it to a low weight. If it’s too easy, we’ll move it upwards and try and find your range,” he comments, looking at you through his silver hair. “You ready?”

“Ready,” and you go, the weight moving like nothing, so much so that when it sets back to its original position, you’re more caught off guard by how far apart your legs are spread. “This is so raunchy, ohmygod.”

“Good thing it’s facing the wall,” Jaemin laughs at you shielding in between your legs. He ups the weight, the number looking a lot scarier than anticipated. “Let’s try this then. You should be able to rep 10 of these.”

You shuffle, a bit unconvinced. Taking a breath, you engage the machine, exerting more effort than before but managing to do one rep. Then two, then three all the way up to ten. Enough to challenge you, but not strain you.

Jaemin howls, pinching your cheek as he says, “Look at you go! That was great.”

“Thank you,” you huff, the tingle in your thighs somehow the source of the happiness in your chest. “That was really fun, actually.”

“Isn’t it?” Jaemin smiles, using some paper towel to wipe after the machine for you. “Usually people do about three sets of those. Reps depend on what you want to do - build endurance, muscle strength, all that. But that was really great, I’m so proud of you.”

And you feel proud of yourself too. Having tried something new, feeling unsure but leaning into the feeling. Letting yourself see how far you can extend yourself, pleasantly surprised with the distance.

So, this was what Jaemin was on about.

You continue your morning like this, getting a personalised tutoring session in how certain machines works and what areas they work out. Jaemin runs through his leg day, since you two were on the hip adduction machine, enjoying more exercises like leg press and goblet squats. By the time you get to the hip thrust machine to try, someone’s occupying it. Jaemin suggests using the squat rack, the scary thing with a long barbell and weights attached to it. Sensing your apprehension, Jaemin lets you know he’s got you, coaching you through the exercise and any queries you may have about movement or positioning. Eventually, it’s your turn to lean against the incline bench and despite your fear, you work your way through 8 hip thrusts. You don’t nearly enjoy it as much as people online talk about it, which Jaemin says,

“That’s perfectly fine. There’s so many exercises that work the same areas. You’ll find one you prefer.”

Finished for your session, Jaemin asks for you to hold tight while he does some deadlifts. It’s maddening watching him pick up such heavy weights, concentration knitting his eyebrows together with his exposed arms flexing under the tension. Wearing a sleeveless top for the gym in theory is great, but for your mental health? Bad, so bad.

Because even if your body rings with exhaustion, the kind that’s refreshing and ensures a peaceful slumber, you’re about ready to jump his bone.

Ill with lust, as you’d joke.

Jaemin snickers, snapping his waist belt off with one hand, which shouldn’t be sexy but is. Your eyes then trail to the barbell, the memory of Jaemin’s set vivid in your mind.

“Did you wanna try it?” Jaemin asks, reading your mind. “We can start off with no weights. Just the barbell. There’s also different variations of a deadlift, let’s see which one you prefer.”

Out of the three, you pick the most conventional one to start with, teeth sinking into your bottom lip at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Particularly after Jaemin loads weights on each end when you've rehearsed with the barbell.

“Think of the barbell cutting your feet in half - not standing too close so that your shins are touching it and not too far away that you have to lean to grab it,” Jaemin coaches, your feet shuffling into the right position. “Nice. Let’s move onto the hinge movement,”

From behind you, his hands settle onto your hips, pulling them back with him. He pats them, a chuckle left in his wake as he steps to your side to demonstrate without overly being horny.

Bastard.

“Like you just did, you’ve gotta hinge your hips backwards until you can’t hinge anymore. Then, you’ll move a little into your knees, like a squat almost so you can grab the barbell,” you follow along, the barbell cold against your hands as you blow a breath.

“Great. Keep your body tense, engage your core and glutes. No arch,” his hand hovers over the arch of your back, something teasing in his smile. “Show your chest, keep your head up straight and lift the barbell up. Remember to keep it close to your body before you lower it down with the same hinge movement and movement into your knees.”

You puff out another breath, the same fear you’ve conquered throughout the session whirring in your chest.

“Don’t worry, angel,” Jaemin smiles, moving behind you again with hovered hands around your figure. “I’ve got you. You’ve got you.”

Again, his words dawn on you. All the power in your hands, a feeling your heart wants nothing more than to run towards as you lift up the barbell, strength personified as you wait at the top of your stance, smiling at the “Let’s fucking go, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, angel!” in your ear. You hinge backwards, the weight knocked down to the floor with no tension on your back as expected.

Once you’re upright again, Jaemin engulfs you in a backhug, lifting your figure off the floor and kissing your neck, drawing giggles out of you. Joy moves through your body like warm light at his excitement that exceeds your own, belief not setting in quite yet.

“I can’t believe you,” he coos, the mirror ahead of you capturing the embrace he holds you in, the elation in his eyes as he does nothing but adore you. Like he’s always done. “Actually, I can. You’ve got a laundry list of things you’re good at. Can you believe it?”

“Not originally,” you admit, the confession somewhat bittersweet. “But after this, I think I’d better have more faith in myself.”

Fondness finds itself in his lips again, a kiss against your cheek as he gently guides you out the way, lifting the barbell onto the rack with his gaze in the mirror directed to yours.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

And you fall into laughter, helping him slid off the weights before flexing in the mirror like you wanted, finding a different strength in yourself with Jaemin by your side.

#nct dream fic #jaemin x reader #nct jaemin #na jaemin #nct dream fics #na jaemin x reader #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #na jaemin fluff #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin x you #jaemin fluff #jaemin imagines #jaemin x you #nct jaemin x reader #sungiescheotluv fics ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱

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fanficwritinggirl · 7 months ago

Text

But daddy I love him (Ryan, Yellowstone)

“Come on, it’ll only be for a few hours. I can get you back before you dad even knows that you left,” his lips peppering her neck, making her head roll back and moan. “Please baby, I just want a few hours with you,” she scrunches her face up and she sighs at his pleas.

“I wish I could, you know I do. But you know what he is like.” Adeline Dutton loved her father, she really did; but if he were to find out that she was dating one of the ranch hands, he would lose his shit. Being the youngest had its perk, she always got what she wanted, always had her dad full attention, which was more than what she could say for her 4 other siblings. But as she got older, she wanted to do what every other teenager and young adult was doing, partying, drinking, sleeping around, dating; the attention she once ate up as a child was now a pain in her ass.

“Would it be the worst thing in the world if he found out,” his eyes now met her and her heart broke a little bit. Growing up, Adeline only really had one rule, do not ever be anything more than professional with the ranch hands or anyone who works with the Yellowstone. It had been easy enough for a long time, most of the ranch hands were old timers, like Lloyd or young assholes who knew nothing about how to be a cowboy. But let’s just say when Ryan showed up on the ranch just over a year ago, she said fuck you to that rule. For months they would look at each other from afar, never daring to do anything. It became a boring dance very quickly, so Adeline took the bull by the horns and took what she wanted, which was him. Ryan didn’t put up much of an argument, sick of the same old song and dance, so being the new guy on the ranch he took the late shift, putting tack away in the stables, which Adeline helped with so that they could spend more time together, stealing moments when they could. It was enough at the start, sleeping together in the small room in the stables, but as the months went by and their relationship progressed and intensified, they were now wanting more, especially Ryan who now wanted to show off his woman.

“Ryan, you know that he would kick you off of the ranch and then what,” he leans back on he knees giving her room to sit up and lean back on her elbows. Ryan shrugs, his gaze looking at his hands which were rubbing her legs.

“You could come with me,” his gaze meets hers and god those eyes did things to her. She hated this.

“Ryan,” she sat up fully, coming to her knees and taking his head in her hands, rubbing her petite fingers over his stubbled cheeks. “I love you, and you know what I would go anywhere with you, but what about my dad, he doesn’t have anyone, not really. Lee’s gone, his relationship with Kayce is still rocky, Beth is away doing whatever the fuck she does and let’s be honest Jamie is a massive pain in the ass. Without me he doesn’t really have anyone, and god I can’t stand the thought of him having this entire place and all these people but still being truly alone. It scares the shit out of me, Ryan. Really scares the shit out of me,” her voice breaks and Ryan shakes his head whiping the tears coming down her face.

“Hey baby, shh. It’s okay. I get it, it’s fine. I have you and as long as you love me, you have me, and I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” he lifts her head so he can look into her eyes. “You have me baby, in so many ways,” Adeline nods, wiping a tear away.

“God I feel like you are giving everything and I’m giving nothing in this relationship,” Ryan shakes his head, a smile painting his face.

“Trust me you give me enough, just in a different way,” Adeline gasps and shoves her hands into his chest pushing him back as he laughs.

“You are such a pig,” a smirk now playing on her lips as she looks at him. Grabbing her hand, she laughs as Ryan pulls her to him, her knees bending on either side of his thighs, sitting in his lap. She leans forwards, their noses meeting each other, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“I love you,” Ryan smiles.

“I love you too,” Adeline smirks at this, her hands running down his body finding the buckle on his trousers. She leans down to whisper in his ear.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” Ryan groans as she pushes him on his back and pulls her top over her head.

“ADELINE!,” her eyes shoot open, her mind groggy from a lack of sleep. Ryan moans next to her, a hand running over his eyes.

“ADELINE, ARE YOU IN HERE?” her eyes widen as realises the voice, her dad and Rip.

“Shit,” she shoot’s up grabbing some clothes.

“She’s not in here sir,” she hears Rip tell her dad.

“Well where else could she be,” her dad stresses, her heartbreaks a little. Ryan stumbles as he puts on his pants causing a noise. Adeline and Ryan look at each other, fear in both of their eyes.

“What was that?” A voice asks, Lloyd.

“Addie,” her dad voice is closer this time, footsteps coming closer to them. The door flies open revealing the two of them, thank god both of them had some clothing on, Ryan in his boxers, jeans on but not closed and she had Ryan’s shirt on and her panties.

Her dad face goes from shock to anger real quick.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING WITH MY DAUGHTER!,” her dad grabs Ryan and shoves him into the wall.

“DAD!”

“JOHN!”

“SIR,” Rip and Lloyd move into the small room pulling at the older man away.

“DAD!” this time Adeline moves and pushes at her dad.

“John calm down,” Lloyd tells her father. Her hands move and takes Ryan’s face in her hands, looking him over.

“Are you okay,” she asks him, assessing him with her eyes.

“I’m fine baby,” he assures her, her relief is short lived when she hears Lloyd and Rip struggling to pull her dad back.

“YOU KEEP AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER, YOU HEAR. YOU ARE DONE, YOU HEAR, DONE.”

“Dad no.”

“Sir why don’t we all calm down,” Rip reasons.

“CALM DOWN, CALM DOWN. HOW AM I MEANT TO CALM DOWN WHEN MY DAUGHTER IS SLEEPING WITH ONE OF MY WORKERS,” Adeline shakes her head, stepping forward.

“Dad listen to me. I know you have always told me to keep it professional, to never do anything with the ranch hands but,” she looks over at Ryan who is looking at her with intrigue.

“This is more than just sleeping together and having some fun… I love him,” she looks at Ryan and smiles, he walks towards her and takes her hand.

“And I love her, Mr Dutton,” Rip and Lloyd drop their holds on him and watch the man carefully, not knowing what he was going to do next. John looks at the pair and sighs running his hand over his face.

“How much do you love her,” his gaze lands on Ryan, looking for an answer.

“More than anything.”

“And this is serious, you’re not doing this so you can say you have been with the bosses daughter,” Ryan shakes his head.

“No… I love her, I’ll love her till the day that I die,” Adeline looks at him with tears in her eyes, Ryan rubs his finger over her hand, smiling at her.

“And I promise that I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am good enough for her,” Adeline shakes her head and moves towards him taking his face in her hands.

“You are good enough for me,” she whispers before resting her head in the crook of his neck, causing Ryan to kiss her forehead.

John stares at the pair all not knowing what to say. Lloyd stand behind him a small smile on his lips as he looks at them, young love. Rip just looks at John not being able to anticipate what he was going to do next. Shaking his head John lets out a sigh.

“Well alright then,” before walking out the door. Adeline and Ryan look at Rip and Lloyd who were both shocked.

Untangling herself from Ryan she runs after her dad.

“Dad,” she comes to stand behind him just outside of the stable doors. Her dad stops, his back still to her.

“What does this mean?” John turns to her and looks at his baby, god when had she become so grown up.

“He’s a good man,” Adeline scoffs.

“Really, he’s a good man. 5 minutes ago you had him pinned up against a wall,” John nods, his head turned downwards.

“Yeah not my proudest moment, I will admit honey,” Adeline’s heart melts as the nickname, regret fills her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him. But I knew how you were going to react and I just… really wanted you to like him,” John nods.

“I do like him honey. He’s good for you,” John stands closer to her and puts his hands on her arms. “It’s just hard for me sometimes, to admit that you are grown up. But, he loves you, I can see that now and I just want you to be happy,” Adeline smiles at her dad.

“He makes me very happy,” John smiles at that.

“Then that’s all I could ask for,” Adeline pulls her dad into a hug, resting her head in his chest. John smiles, resting his cheek on the top of her head, just like he did when she was a little girl.

“Thank you dad,” pulling back John looks at her and nods.

Walking around the corner Colby and Jimmy stop as they take in the sight, the bosses daughter standing in nothing but panties and a shirt.

“Oh shit,” jimmy exclaims, causing colby to hit him in the arm. Adeline tenses realising what she was wearing. John shakes his head taking off him coat and wrapping it around his daughter.

“Go and put some clothes on, alright,” Adeline nods running back into the barn. Colby and Jimmy look at John, both shitting themselves.

“Morning, Mr Dutton,” Colby says awkwardly, his gaze on the floor as he lifts his hand towards his boss.

“You saw nothing, ya hear,” Colby and Jimmy nod.

“Saw absolutely nothing sir,” Jimmy tells him, his gaze off towards the mountains. John simply nods at the pair before walking off causing the men to let out a sigh of relief.

“What the hell was that?” Jimmy looks towards Colby who just raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“Absolutely, no idea.”

Jogging back into the stables, Adeline pulls her dad’s coat tighter, she was really starting to feel the cold. Lloyd, Rip and Ryan gaze turns to her as she walks towards them, Ryan immediately moving towards her, grabbing her and pulling her towards him. Adeline sighs, wrapping her arms around his neck and cozying her face into the crook.

“Are you okay?” He mutters into the side of her head as he pulls back to look at her. Adeline’s lips lift up as she nods.

“Yeah, I’m fine. A little cold though,” ryan chuckles taking in her attire.

“Well besides the coat, I think your outfit is perfect,” Adeline’s head falls back as she laughs.

“Well of course you would,” Ryan smirks pulling her closer again.

“Would someone please tell me, what the fuck is going on?” Rip explains from behind them causing the couple to turn and look at the two men. Lloyd smirks putting his hand of the younger man’s shoulder and looks towards Ryan and Adeline.

“Well you see Rip, it appears that these two love birds have been keeping their relationship a secret,” Rip shakes his head.

“I got that much Lloyd but I mean how long has this been going on for?” Adeline shrugs.

“A couple of months give or take, probably would have been longer if someone would have just made a move,” Ryan scoffs.

“I was trying to figure out how you felt, and hey I have no complaints about you pouncing on me,” Adeline raises her eyebrows.

“I did not pounce of you,” Ryan laughs.

“I vividly remember that it was you who pushed me against the wall,” Lloyd burst out laughing walking towards Adeline giving her a pat on the shoulder.

“Good woman, showing these boys up,” Adeline giggles putting her head on Ryan’s shoulder who is just shaking his head. The couples gaze falls to rip who is just staring at them. Adeline sighs.

“Rip, are you going to say anything?” A few moments pass before Rip simply walks fowards.

“Ryan I want you ready for work in 5 minutes, you’re already late. Adeline, please put some clothes on I don’t want any of them ranch hands looking at you, your father might actually murder someone today,” Adeline just shakes her head, silently laughing at Rip just being Rip.

“And Ryan,” the couple turn and look at him.

“Don’t break her heart, because it won’t be only her dad that would kill you,” and then he is gone. Ryan groans and his head falls back.

“I second that,” Adeline smiles at the older man who puts his hands on her shoulders and kiss her cheek.

“You really know how to bring some entertainment to this place, darling,” Adeline giggles, a smile on her face. Lloyd puts his hand on Ryan’s shoulder and just smirks.

“Good luck,” before walking out.

Letting out a massive sigh, Ryan yanks Adeline to himself, wrapping his arms around her, placing his head into her shoulder. Giggling, Adeline places her hand on his head and kisses it.

“You were shitting it, weren’t you,” Ryan groans.

“You have no idea, I actually thought your dad was going to kill me. My life flashed before my eyes,” Adeline cackles, kissing his shoulder.

“Well I think that you are off of my dad’s radar. I’m pretty sure you have won him over as well,” Ryan removes his head off of her shoulder and looks her in the eyes.

“Really?” She laughs at him, nodding and taking his face in her hands.

“He sees how much you love me, and how happy you make me. And that… that is all that he has ever wanted for me,” Ryan nods, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I promise Addie, that I am going to love you till the day that I die,” she smirks.

“That sound like something you would have in your vows,” Ryan laughs.

“Well someday I am going to make you my wife, but doesn’t mean that I can’t start making those promises now,” Adeline feels tears burning her eyes, one falling down her cheek. Ryan wipes the tears off of her cheeks and smiles at her.

“I love you,” smirking, ryan leans forward and gives her a peck on the lips .

“I love you too,” the two wrap their arms around each other and their lips meet. Ryan’s rough hands move down her body, running over her ass and to her thighs, hoisting her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pushed them again the wall causing them to both moan. Adeline wraps her fingers into his hair, giving them a slight tug causing him to groan, his head falling back.

“What the hell,” Adeline’s head snaps towards the doors of the stables seeing Colby and Jimmy now standing there.

“Oh for god sakes,” let’s just say, that this was just the start.

#ryan yellowstone #ian bohen #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone #yellowstone ryan #yellowstone x reader #john dutton

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madschiavelique · 4 months ago

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﹒ ✦ 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐊 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗 — 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

✦﹒ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : maybe it is time for reader to move on from patterns that are now useless and reconsider things

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : some angst, then some comfort, then more angst, then more comfort, some crude language an mentions of harassment

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 6.1k

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : okay i think i might write my old bg3 requests still sitting in my inbox after this but!!!! im excited to write the next chap

✦﹒ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐘 : the lovely @yaffles-world

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 ．．𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐌𝐘 𝐊𝐎-𝐅𝐈

✦﹒ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt

You had spent your Saturday recovering, not without frustration. It was a waste of time, you thought. You could have taken advantage of a day without any classes or work like that to study and make more progress, but Selene had come to visit you, worried.

She officially met Sky, who had always admired her since her first lessons with her. Selene had come to your bedside, placing a gentle hand on your forehead for a moment, then letting it slide down to your warm cheek. She sighed, familiar with your overworking habits.

She asked Sky about your night, about the prescribed treatment, and Selene couldn't help but exchange a knowing glance with you when Viktor was mentioned, especially for such chivalrous deeds. She smiled a playful ‘see, I told you so’ which made you pull your cover over your head in annoyance.

When she left, Sky came back to you, bringing you a chicken broth to restore your health, which she hoped you'd consume to the last drop.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this and calling them, calling him. But..." She sighed, watching you finally eat something with relief. "You were working yourself to death, and with such a pace, you probably wouldn't have been able to pass the exams at all if you'd kept going."

You swallowed your mouthful with difficulty, a small knot of shame and regret tightening it. You'd been so obsessed, so fixated on outdoing yourself and winning back your number one spot from Viktor that you'd become nothing more than an information-gobbling machine.

You didn't even need it, you'd just decided to get ahead on the next year's syllabus in the hope of impressing in the papers and showing your dedication. How could you be so stupid?

"Your state was deteriorating visibly..." Sky reflected, looking down at her hands before only meeting your gaze for a moment. "You really scared me, you know."

Your heart split in two. You placed your lunch tray on your bedside table, taking Sky's hands in yours and seeking her gaze despite her bowed head.

"Hey," you murmured in your tired voice as you smiled softly at her when she looked back at you. "You did the right thing, Sky. Without you..." you sighed, thinking back on your stupidity, "I don't know where I'd be right now. This was going to eat me alive until there would be nothing left of me but a white chalk outline on my desk."

She smiled softly, squeezing your hands. Her eyes glistened, her chin trembling slightly as she took off her glasses.

"Oh, Sky..." You pulled her into your arms, holding her close. "I'm sorry."

You couldn't imagine how tired she must have been, seeing you wasting away like that, not listening to her, not hearing her. She had her own revisions, her own things to do, and you had made your problem hers.

You could feel her forehead wrinkling, her hands trembling slightly around you as she twitched.

Since when did you become such an important part of someone's life that they cared that much about you?

What would have happened if, for one more year, you'd never had a flatmate? And if that flatmate hadn't been Sky, would she have had even an ounce of patience like your friend?

You'd fucked up and nearly gone off the deep end, and Sky had done everything she could to avoid it.

"I promise you to never do that again," you vowed, pulling away from her to run your thumb over her cheek and wipe away the tears. "Please, don't cry on me. Cry on... I don't know, Heimerdinger's hairstylist."

Don't cry for me, I'm not worth a waste of tears, not yours.

She laughed nervously, her eyes going to the ceiling. "I don't know why I'm crying, really, this is..." she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "this is stupid."

"No, it's not," you smiled, "It's good to cry."

She raised her eyebrows, wiggling her nose and shrugging. "Well, you never do."

"That's because I sold my lacrimal glands," you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood by joking.

And it worked - she laughed, the sadness slowly evaporating from her face. "So you have no tears, but you still have your heart, right ?"

You closed your fist, banging it against your chest. "It's a dusty engine, but it does its work."

"Well," she stood up, "I hope it can still feel something."

You observed her for a moment, picking up a saucepan and filling it with water. No doubt to make coffee, or at least tea to ward off your addiction and prevent your mechanical heart from overheating under the caffeine. No amount of Piltovian gold could offer you anything like Sky's sweetness.

"My heart's full of room for the very few friends I have." You picked up your bowl of broth again, its warmth cupped against your fingers. "Its aorta is named after you."

She turned to you, smiling, her eyes filling again with tears as she breathed in.

"You can't just say things like that and not expect me to ruin a box of these," she described movements in the air with her hands in ridiculous, exagerated swirls, "silk-soft tissues they have here."

"Their toilet paper is so thick and soft it feels like we're using pillows," you sneered before blowing on the bouillon.

"Right?!" Sky exclaimed, "It's only been like, a month and a half since I've been here and it all feels so fancy. Everything is so... clean."

"I know!" You laughed, "It's infuriating. The streets barely have a scratch, the buildings have colours straight out of a kid's colouring book, and they have trees."

She sighed, visualising the vegetation the city had before her eyes fell back on yours. "You never get used to it, right?"

You swallowed your mouthful of broth, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Never."

She leaned back against the worktop, watching you for a moment. "Seriously though." She tilted her head to one side. "Don't ever do that again."

You smiled, bringing your forefinger and thumb to your ear and pressing on the lobe.

It was a custom in Zaun to pledge your word. In the Undercity, you pressed your lobe as if you were piercing it, to imaginatively seal in the skin a ring other than the one on your finger. However, everyone knows that if you pull too hard on a piercing, you can tear the flesh, and find it difficult to retie the skin so that it can be pierced again. So the promise was made with a symbolic ring, anchored in the skin, that the promise would be kept.

"May my flesh tear apart if, by misfortune, I betrayed," you recited.

During the rest of the last week of classes before the exams, you resumed a much more normal revision routine than the original, much to Sky's delight. You'd revise with her in the afternoons outside class, asking each other questions about the subjects you shared while you were trying not to die laughing from the stupid ways you looked with your facemasks during skincare time.

When Friday came around, you decided to go to the library again. Unconsciously, it had become a ritual. With Viktor or without, you intended to surround yourself with knowledge as immense as possible.

You went and sat down at a table, alone, while many students who had come for the same reason were already crowding most of the available ones. You took out your things, rereading your index cards for the umpteenth time until you were almost ready to recite them by heart if the need arose.

You couldn't help but lose concentration when you heard your name spoken in the distance, coming from voices that weren’t familiar to you, further behind your back.

"And to say Viktor got put with her on Heimerdinger's subject," one said, chuckling.

"I wonder which of them pulls their hair out more in each other's company."

You tried not to think about it, but since, for once, the conversation wasn't all about the walking street lamp, you couldn't help but let your ears hang close to their mouths.

"Did you see her the other day? A vision of the apocalypse. Hollow cheeks and dead eyes like she hadn't eaten in a month."

"Gotta have hollow cheeks to suck the teachers better," her classmate sneered.

Your jaw tightened, trying to ignore their remarks. This wasn't your first time hearing such things - the previous two years hadn't been as gentle as this one, even if Viktor had caused a few problems with his arrival.

"Can you believe what she did to Tyler?"

"She's an animal." They both laughed, causing you to sink back into your chair.

"How do you think Viktor handles her?"

"He doesn't, she's just a handicap to him and he seems to have an embarrassing enough one as it is."

You inhaled. Someone will probably tell them to be quiet so as not to disturb the peace of the library. You hoped.

"Who's a handicap?"

Your eyes widened as you suddenly turned around. Viktor was standing there, facing them, both students suddenly looking very confused and ashamed.

"Viktor," one of them laughed nervously, "this was just a joke, she..."

But the student didn't have time to come up with an excuse. Viktor raised an eyebrow before speaking.

"She's an incredible person who no one can defeat," he informed them, the latter two lowering their eyes on their notes suddenly invested in their revisions. "Except me."

He punctuated his sentence, turning away from them and meeting your gaze. He seemed surprised, not expecting to find you there, at least not doing nothing when such needlessly cruel nonsense was uttered in your name.

Inevitably, of course, he moved towards you.

Except me. The phrase made you roll your eyes for a moment before you tried to read information from your notes that hadn't needed reading for a long time.

He sat down opposite you, keeping his hand on the pommel of his cane. "Your name seems to be on everyone's lips, Miss."

"What can I say," you sighed, "the obsession they have for me is an undying addiction."

However, Viktor didn't seem amused at all.

"Why do you let them say such things about you without lifting a finger?"

You bit the inside of your lip, feeling the pressure of his gaze on you as your eyes scanned uselessly over your revision sheets.

"It's not the first time I've heard that kind of comment about me," you confirmed without much interest, "I'll survive it."

"So you spend most of your time worrying about the injustices other people experience but you push your own under a doormat?" Viktor summed up, not seeming genuinely thrilled at the idea.

"If I could push the injustice that Tyler is by his very existence off the face of this world, I'd be stepping on some rich blonde aristocrat every time I left and returned from home."

But Viktor still wasn't laughing, far from it. When your eyes finally met his, they were dark.

He sighed. "Are you trying to punish yourself for something by neglecting yourself so much?"

I'd like to forget more than anything else in the world. The thought was taking over your soul, eating away at you like a gangrene with an insatiable hunger.

"Of course," you chuckled, exaggerating a falsely happy tone.

"Stop this." His tone was firm.

"Stop what?" you questioned.

"Trying to make something funny out of this."

You frowned, raising an eyebrow. "What? You're not feeling in the mood for our ritual chit chats?"

"Do I look like I'm joking around right now?"

His eyes had the same gleam, carried the same weight as when he'd held you in place in your bed just a week ago. You almost gulped, speechless. Why was he reacting like that? Why was he worried about you?

You lowered your eyes, licking your lips as you returned to your notes.

"Fine," you admitted, dropping your sarcastic tone. "I guess I owe you for saving my life, anyway."

It didn't sound like it, but it was probably the closest you'd come to a ‘thank you’ for him so far. He seemed surprised that you were finally cooperating in the conversation, that you were at last sending him a very subliminal magic word.

His shoulders slumped, as if the idea of being angry with you was stupid.

"How are you feeling?" He finally asked.

"I'm no longer sick, if that's the question you meant to ask."

"It was, but also," he brought his cane up between his legs, clasping both hands on the pommel as he came to rest his chin on it, "I just wanted to know how you are doing."

Why are you doing this? You were thinking back over the last few weeks. His questions during the power cut, the attention he'd paid to you, staying awake all night by your side to make sure you were taking your medication properly, and now...

"Well," you swallowed, these thoughts unsettling you for a moment and sending a foreign warmth into your belly, "the exams are approaching and I think you've had quite the close look on their effect on me so... yeah."

He considered you, tilting his head to the side until his cheek was the one pressed against the back of his hands. He scanned you, his gaze sending a warm wind up your spine.

"You're still on the treatment, right?"

The horrible powder you had to mix in a glass at least twice a day wasn't the moment you were looking forward to most in your daily routine, but you did it anyway, under Sky's sharp eyes.

You remained silent, just to see how Viktor would react and whether, as he had dictated, he would make sure you stayed in bed no matter what.

Faced with your silence, he raised an eyebrow as he straightened up, finally wrinkling his forehead as he frowned.

"Right?" he repeated, almost menacingly.

"Relax." A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Yes, I'm taking it."

He sighed in relief at the news, while you shook your head in confusion.

"You're putting all this effort... for me? Why"

The phrase sounded alien in your mouth, as if you weren't worth the time or energy of such dedication. He gazed at you for a moment, his eyes roving over your index cards.

"You know why."

"Because you can't have your best rival go against you while she's sick?" you recited.

"Because I don't want to be your rival."

You found this answer profoundly absurd.

"What do you mean-" But he cut you off, annoyed.

"What do you want, hmm? To become Heimerdinger's assistant?"

Of course, you thought, but the way Viktor had said it sounded... easy, too easy. Or at least, too easy for you.

"I don't intend to be his assistant, and I'm going to tell you why."

He stood up, walking around the table until he was beside you and leaning in slightly.

"Because I've already been his assistant, and I stopped."

The words echoed inside you, like the cracking of something you thought was indestructible. Your lips parted in shock, watching him with huge eyes as he straightened up.

"In any case. I wanted to make sure that you'd be back in good shape." He began to walk towards the library exit, turning one last time to give you a playful look. "And now that I'm sure you'll be in full shape, I know I don't need to hold back, hm, rival?"

He turned away, heading for the big door, leaving you with a short-circuited brain. What did he mean by "already been"? What did he mean he had stopped? How had Viktor ever been Heimerdinger's assistant?

When the sentence finally reached your mind after a long travel from your ears, you gathered your things in a flash as the questions began to fly and you almost ran to catch up with him. You caught up with him in the corridors, under the astonished gazes of all the students.

"What?" you asked, out of breath from the sudden exertion and the gust of wind the news had knocked from your chest.

He turned to you, slightly surprised that you'd practically chased after him. He'd probably expected you to sit at your table, mulling things over until the questions got too much for you and you decided to come and see him after a day or two of mental torment.

"You've been Heimerdinger's assistant?" you repeated, adjusting the strap of your satchel on your shoulder.

He shrugged, turning away from you. "Yes."

Was he really just going to leave like that? Leaving you in agony for answers you wanted more than anything? No, it wasn't going to be like that.

You grabbed his wrist, much to his surprise, and pulled him with you into an empty adjoining corridor. Once you were out of sight, checking from one end of the corridor to the other to see if anyone was there, you finally regained his gaze.

There was something in his eyes, like a hint of something that kept his lips parted until they closed and his eyes lowered to your hand still gripping his wrist.

You let go, the heat of shame spreading across your neck and cheeks for a moment as you took a step away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"When were you his assistant?"

He leaned against the wall, sighing as he stared at you.

"You do remember Jayce's trial, don't you?"

How could you forget? You hadn't been present at the trial. Selene had invited you to come as it concerned your friend, but you were too afraid of the aristocratic eyes and the pressure they would put on you.

The story remained vague. Due to special circumstances that remained under the security and secrecy of the administration as to the extent of Jayce's activities, he had been allowed to stay at the academy.

"Yes."

"By then, I had already been Heimerdinger’s assistant for a month.."

You now were certain you'd never seen him before. It was just one month into your summer holidays, and you had gone to Zaun to find Eris. Your chances of running into him were almost nil, no doubt about it.

"How did you get to become his assistant?" you quizzed.

He shrugged, and that simple movement made you want to scream. "I suppose he must have liked my assiduity enough to take me on. That and the fact that, with his little legs, I was bound to walk at his pace," he joked.

You held your breath in your lungs for a moment, before releasing it. He didn't seem to be lying, at least about the only serious part of his sentence. He was undoubtedly the best choice for Heimerdinger in any case.

However, it seemed to you that it wasn't so much exasperation that you were feeling - you were trying to understand what the feeling was... a relief, but not really about the fact that the assistant's place was free, no, a relief about Viktor that you couldn't really place at the moment.

"Why did you stop?" There was no longer any frustration in your voice, just a new-found curiosity.

Viktor seemed taken aback by your new intonation, straightening slightly against the wall. "It didn't interest me anymore."

What could he have found that was better? The thought, at last, that Viktor's aim was not to be an assistant for the rest of his life, crept into your mind. Viktor seemed to pick up on it.

"See? I told you we didn't have the same goal."

You finally realised what that feeling of relief was: you didn't have to hate him any more. You no longer had a reason to try to outdo him, no longer had a valid justification for becoming number one again. But why was it such a relief? There was rarely anything more gratuitous than hatred in what you knew, and it should have been the same for Viktor, so why was it such a relief not to have to hate him any more?

Hating him served no purpose, no motivation. It was useless, and what do you do with useless things?

You took half a step towards him.

"The truce you suggested, have you come up with any clauses?"

His eyebrows rose, his eyes widened. He lifted himself off the wall.

"Um no-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Find some, and I'll consider them."

And with that, you took off, leaving Viktor speechless.

You moved quickly, trying to get home as fast as possible. You were afraid that the street air, so pure and fresh, would wash away your conclusions and fuel a hatred that no longer had any reason to exist.

But you didn't go home straight away, making a diversion to Emeline's shop. As soon as you entered her shop, she didn't hesitate to jump on your neck and give you a hug.

"My little lamb," she enthused as she squeezed you until your ribs broke before cupping your face as if to examine you, "are you feeling better? You gave me quite a fright, you know! When your friend came to visit me and told me you were ill I nearly closed up shop to come and see you myself."

"Everything's fine," you laughed, squeezing her arms, "I've almost completely recovered!"

You'd decided that, after your chat with Viktor and all the effort you'd put into your revision, you deserved a little something to comfort you.

After a little chat with Emeline, she packed two pastries, one for you and one for Sky. Of course, she didn't forget to fill you up with an extra small packet of sweets that would have gone unsold during the day.

When you returned home, you greeted Sky with a smile and raised the two bags of treats to your head. She smiled in surprise.

"To what do we owe this feast?" she asked.

You shrugged. "Let's just say I've made resolutions for the better."

You'd been laughing all evening, stuffing your faces with these delicacies as you both took a well-deserved break from studying.

Your eyes turned to your tarot deck, you'd forgotten to draw any cards lately due to your revisions, so after wiping your hands full of sugar, you took the pack in hand.

“I see you pulling one almost every morning,” Sky remarked, lying on her stomach on your bed while you were cross-legged. “Why do you do that?”

You pulled out your cards in your hands. “To have a leitmotif to follow during the day. Although to be quite honest I don't follow their advice every time.”

She laughed softly, knowing by now your stubbornness like no other. “That doesn't surprise me at all.”

“Yeah well,” you smiled in turn as you shuffled the cards, ”some of them are not the best cards to wake up on to in the morning.”

So you cut your deck as usual, and looked at its underside. You raised your eyebrows.

“Just like this one.”

You showed Sky the card: Death.

She winced, her eyebrows furrowing as her mouth formed as if she were pronouncing the letter x.

“Okay, I get it,” she said, shaking her head. “Is it literal? I hope not, right?”

“Nah it's pretty safe.” You laughed. “The description of its meaning is in the little booklet.” You pointed to it with your chin, and Sky grabbed it, flipping through until she found the Death page.

“Transition. Underworld. Flux. Occultism. Letting go. Evolution requiring liberation. Metaphorical death.” She read. “Off to a great start apparently.”

You chuckled, observing the card as she continued reading. “Death moves across a field with a slow, steady march. A king lies dead. He represents the old systems of order cast aside. A bishop begs for mercy, a young girl turns away in fear and only a curious little girl looks up to greet death. She has not been taught to fear it.”

Your thumb passed over the little girl's drawing, your heart clenching.

“A ship sails away, heedless of death's march. A sun rises between two towers to reflect resurrection and new beginnings. All endings give way to new possibilities. Transformation leads to renewal and growth.” She raised her eyebrows. “Ain't as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Yeah,” you considered, thinking back on your day and the fact that the cards were pointing you in the right direction, ”indeed.”

Exam week was over. You'd had absolutely no trouble at all with any of the exercises. All the subjects were in the bag and you were finishing virtually ahead of schedule in every exam room.

Today was the day of results. The teachers had spent the weekend correcting everything, and the results boards had finally been displayed.

You woke up feeling lighter than you thought you would. Since realizing that there was no longer any point in chasing Viktor to victory, you'd relaxed.

You went down the hall with Sky, passing the student mailboxes for a moment so you could check if either of you had received anything.

You opened the metal door to a single letter, sealed with a metallic black wax seal you knew all too well: Eris.

You took the key to your apartment, using its teeth to open the envelope and take out the letter, which you brought to your nose.

Her letters always smelled of the essential oils and herbs that constantly appeased you. Without further ado, you unfolded the paper and read its contents.

My sweet friend,

I thought you were a lost cause in friendship, but I guess this year the wheel is really turning on your side. I'm delighted, and I imagine the same goes for Selene. I'd love to meet her, that Sky, she sounds absolutely charming. I'm guessing, though, that the day with your Five of Wands must have been no picnic, especially if - from what I understand - Emperor Viktor is to blame. But I'm sure that the Immeasurable Grandeur of the Prestigious Piltover Academy will crown your success.

You giggled to yourself as your eyes passed over the elegant, forced curves that Eris had taken care to add in response to your own inky bows.

I miss you so much. You know how the days are here in Zaun; I open, sell and consult, and close in the evening before any trouble starts. I'm paid with golden trinkets, new flowers to dry and other plants from other regions. I have managed to get some new customers, though, and not the least important ones. Renata Glasc herself has been to my shop.

You'd already heard of Renata Glasc, an ambitious woman who was growing in influence on the streets of Zaun. She wasn't a Chem Baroness, but at the rate she was going, it looked like she was well on her way to becoming one.

In fact, it's through her that I'm hearing about worrying things here. Common for Zaun, you may say, but I can't help thinking the worst. I'll tell you about it myself when we meet. I'm planning to come here around December 23, so let's meet at the usual bridge at three o'clock. I'll be staying with you for a few days. I can't tell you more. But I've lit a candle for you, wishing you success and good health.

I look forward to seeing you again, my dearest trouble,

Eris.

What could she possibly be worried about? The situation was invariably complicated in Zaun, but what could it be that she was worried about?

You carefully tucked the letter into your bag, heading out to the shuttle stop.

“Not too stressed?” Sky asked.

You huffed, a cloud of warmth rising into the air. The cold had been gaining in intensity for over a week, and all the students at the academy had donned their scarves.

“No.” you replied, confident. “You?”

“A bit,” she admitted, her breath trembling slightly.

“Hey,” you pressed your shoulder against hers as she turned to face you, ”you've got this. I know you do.”

She nodded, smiling at you as the shuttle arrived. The journey was swift, some students over-excited at the prospect of their results, others apprehensive about what was to come.

As you arrived at the golden gates of the academy, you noticed that neither Viktor nor Jayce were in sight. Perhaps they had decided to go to the academy later?

The group of students walked up to the scoreboards, an army of others already huddled in front of them.

Sky went in search of her name, while you breathed in, waiting for other students to pass before you.

You didn't know what awaited you at the top of the board, which name would be at the head. Did it still matter? Yes, it probably did, or it didn't. Did you want it to matter? Probably not. But did your mind keep wandering? Endlessly.

What if Viktor was still number one - would you be disappointed? What if you were number one - would you be satisfied? And if neither he nor you were number one, would you be revolted?

“Look who it is!”

That voice alone was enough to make you frown, raise your eyebrows and lower your eyelids in boredom.

Tyler.

You turned to him for a moment, him seeming pleased that you responded to his voice as you rolled your eyes and sighed.

“What do you want, blondie? Searching for a new name on the boards to torment?”

He chuckled, stepping toward you. “You don't change a winning team, darling. Have you found your place at the very bottom of the ranking?”

It was your turn to chuckle, turning to face him. He had no idea about your academic results, it seemed.

“Tyler you have as many neurons as you have eyes, and they're both fighting for any kind of connection.” You turned to the bulletin board, stepping forward slightly. “Do them mercy and close your eyelids for all eternity before we have to deal with a rain of fire and the horsemen and...”

But you didn't even finish your sentence, the words dying on your lips as your eyes came to rest on your name.

First place.

You were back in first place. Eyes and mouth wide open, you kept blinking to make sure your vision wasn't failing you. And the name underneath...

Viktor.

Your scores were almost equal, yours barely beating him.

“Told you I wasn't going to hold back.”

You turned towards the voice, the tinkle you now knew too well of his cane echoing on the floor. He stood there, serene, a small smile on his face before his lips pressed into an inverted grin and his eyebrows raised.

“You fight well, Miss.”

You couldn't help it - you cracked a smile at him. And Viktor seemed astonished, as if he'd never seen such a thing happen. No stupid remark, no pettiness behind your drawn lips, just sincere amusement and joy.

“What the...” Tyler's voice died in his throat as he took in the bulletin boards, turning to you. “How did you...”

You turned to him, his sole presence now not even enough to ruin your happiness and relief. “As if you could reach me,” you replied with a triumphant smile, walking out of the crowd to join Viktor.

Once you got away from all this tumult, he nodded. “You got first,” he remarked, “congratulations.”

You observed him for a second, his posture reflecting a sort of disappointment. Was it from losing? Or was it from the fact you seemed so happy in your rivalry with him? You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Quit it,” you pronounced with a smile, shaking your head slightly. “We share this crown, and you perfectly know that.”

He said nothing, just gazing at you for a moment. There was this gleam, the tickling of a smile ready to be born on his lips as the satisfaction that, maybe, these ink duels you were both fencing would wash away and let something different be born from them.

He was apprehensive about saying something, but Jayce came towards you both.

“Ah, Jayce, exams went well?” You asked, knowing without a doubt that he didn't have to worry about his results.

“Oh yeah, perfect.” He nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line, his eyes darting from yours to Viktor's, surprised that you weren't quarrelling. “Say, hum... can I talk to you guys for a minute?”

Viktor and you exchanged a confused look, before ultimately following him.

“A masquerade?” you repeated, as if the word had never grazed your lips before.

Jayce had brought you to a room in the Academy where you could all talk without hearing the multiple cries of students as to their result. And considering what he had to discuss with you, he'd done the right thing.

“It's this thing Mel is invited to,” he explained nervously. “All the people of high aristocracy will be there, counselors, lords and ladies... Please, can you both accompany me to it?”

“As your dance partners?” joked Viktor, frowning.

“No, Mel's already my partner. But, she said that there would be no opposition for you both to come as well. You're the,” he seemed to search for words for a moment, ”croom dé la cram?”

“Crême de la crême?” you suggested.

He pointed at you, glad you understood. “Yeah, that. La crême de la crême of the Academy. Such prestigious students as the both of you sharing the top of the board deserve to be in such an event.”

“So you want us,” you pointed repeatedly between Viktor and yourself, ”to come to this event because you're too nervous to go there by yourself?”

The interested party scratched the back of his neck, sniffling before looking at you both with puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah?”

“Aren't you supposed to have a partner to come to a masquerade?” Interrogated Viktor.

“I thought you two could... go together?”

You chuckled, your mouth hanging open. You exchanged a bewildered look with Viktor, who didn't seem to be too upset by the concept.

“You're joking, right?” you asked.

“Please just-” he didn't finish his sentence, “put your bickering aside for one evening. You don't even have to show up together if it suits you better.”

“I don't see any problems with it,” Viktor shrugged, indifferent. “When is it?”

"Tomorrow night."

“Tomorrow night?” You exclaimed. “Jayce, if it's a society gala, I've got nothing to wear.”

He reached into his own wallet, pulled out some bills and handed them to you.

“Here, I'm sure you'll find something convenient with this.”

“Jayce,” you remarked, looking at the fresh bills, “what the hell.”

“This is not much for you to get a decent gown for the gala. Keep the rest, if there is any, to get some fancy accessories.” He grabbed your hand, placing the cash in it. “Truly, this is the least I can do.”

You knew Jayce's patrons were the Kiramman’s, but to have money to give away like this? Since when was that the case?

“Vik, I think it's time for us to go.” Jayce finally remarked before leaving the room, leaving the two of you.

You both stayed in silence for a moment, both digesting the information that had just been given to you.

“What a way to celebrate your victory,” Viktor finally sighed.

“I've seen worse celebrations than a masquerade,” you remarked, observing the tickets for a moment before folding them up, “but I think I've had better experiences than being in a room with nobility sipping glasses of champagne with petty innuendo in every exchange.”

He huffed in turn. “I suppose the next area in which we must excel in no time is the art of conversation in high society. Although, considering our usual conversation,” he leaned his head to the side with a smirk, "we'll fit right in."

“How exciting,” you raised your eyebrows sarcastically, letting silence take its rule back on the room before you finally decided to break it. ”Guess I better go and find myself something to wear. See you tomorrow, Viktor.”

“Wait,” he called to you, seeming hesitant about what he was going to suggest, ”would you like us to get together first and go? Or...”

“Let's meet directly at the party,” you assured him.

He nodded, his lips pressing in a thin line as you turned away. “Oh and...” you turned back to him at his words, his eyes piercing. “Don't forget the mask.”

You nodded, leaving the room.

You had today and tomorrow to find an outfit, and get used to the fact that Viktor was no longer a threat to be eliminated. Easier said than done.

But still… What a way to celebrate a rebirth.

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

#a crown of ink #acoi #arcane #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor fic #viktor fanfic #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader

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edenunbuilt · 2 months ago

Text

── ϧ𝑒 packing it up.ೃ࿔

℘ jj maybank x fem!kook!reader ৴ length: 0.6k ৴ time of posting: 9:48pm

summary: y/n holds jj through the night. it's kinda new for him

content: sfw ﾉ soft!jj ﾉ not proof read ﾉ kook reader

author's notes: see end for notes

jj never stayed the night. that was the rule.

no cuddling. no waking up in tangled sheets. no letting someone look at him like he was worth sticking around for.

and yet, here he was.

her room was nothing like the places he was used to crashing, he can accept that much as his gaze flickers over the delicate and antique furniture. it smelled like lavender and something sweeter, something distinctly her. soft, warm, untouched by the sharp edges of the world he knew. the kind of place that didn’t feel temporary.

he should’ve left hours ago. should’ve done what he always did—made some dumb joke, thrown on his shirt, and disappeared before the sun could catch him still wrapped up in her.

but he couldn’t.

not when she had looked at him like that.

she should’ve turned him away. when he showed up at her door, bloody and exhausted, she should’ve done the smart thing and shut him out. should’ve decided, right then and there, that his baggage wasn’t worth it.

instead, she just sighed—like she’d been expecting this. like she wasn’t surprised that he had nowhere else to go.

and then she pulled him inside.

she didn’t press him for details. didn’t flinch when he winced under her touch, just guided him to the bathroom and stood between his legs, dabbing at his split lip with careful fingers. she was so close. close enough that he could see the worry knitting her brows together, the softness in her eyes, the way she bit the inside of her cheek when he hissed at the sting.

jj should’ve made a joke—damn, princess, if you wanted to get me undressed, you could’ve just asked. something stupid to make her roll her eyes, to shake off whatever was shifting between them. but for the first time in his life, he didn’t have anything to say, the words catching in his throat.

because she wasn’t looking at him with pity. or judgment. or regret.

she was looking at him like he was worth keeping.

and it hit him then, like a sucker punch to the gut.

somewhere along the way, he had stopped keeping his distance.

it hadn’t happened all at once. it had been in the little things—the moments he hadn’t realized mattered until it was too late.

like the first time he made her laugh, really laugh. the kind that made her throw her head back, eyes crinkling, completely unguarded. he remembered staring, thinking: shit, i want to hear that again.

or the night she found him at a party, already too many drinks deep and buzzing with the need to self-destruct. he’d made a move on her, fully expecting her to let him. she didn’t. just pulled his drink from his hand, wrinkled her nose, and told him he was embarrassing himself. then, instead of leaving, she hooked her pinky with his and told him to come sit.

she never gave him what he expected.

never pushed his buttons, never bit back when he tried to start something just to keep from feeling too much. she just let him be. let him breathe.

and that was new.

jj rolled onto his side, gaze settling on her, curled up next to him in the dim glow of her bedroom. her fingers twitched slightly where they rested against his ribs, like she was making sure he was still there.

he was.

and that was the problem.

because jj had spent his whole life running. keeping people at arm’s length, never staying long enough to make it hurt when he left. but now—god, now he wasn’t sure if he could leave at all.

he was in too deep.

and for the first time, he didn’t want to find his way out.

𐙚𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𐙚

author's notes: this is a fair warning that most of my works will most likely be kook!reader. i write to escape my not so glamourous life and if i wanted to daydream about being poor, i wouldn't write in the first place. anywayssss i do have an in-progress fic that involves an oc and i'm not sure if i'll just rewrite it to be self-insert or if i'll post it as is. all my drabbles come from snippets of said fic and would make much more sense if we started from the beginning lol.

#ಌ signed with love #edenunbuilt.ᐟ 𐙚˙⋆✶#jj maybank x reader #jj x you #jj x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj fanfiction #jj imagine #jj fluff #jj maybank x female reader #outer banks x reader #outer banks #obx fanfiction #gen is feeling soft #jj maybank my beloved

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chaoticwriting · 3 months ago

Text

FENTON CRIME FAMILY 4

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Damian straightens out his shirt a little as he stands in front of his siblings. He doesn't know why nor would he admit that he is a little nervous right now. They are currently at the theater room waiting for whatever Damian has prepared for them. Except for Dick and Jason, all of the siblings are here.

Tim: Would you explain to us already why you want us here?

Damian: Silence Drake. I am gathering my thoughts here.

Steph: Ugghhh, just tell us already. I am already close to cracking up Cass to confess who she is hanging out with.

Cass: No you aren't.

Steph: Yes, I am.

Duke: Umm, guys. I think Damian is ready.

Suddenly the lights turn off and the projector starts to show a slide show.

Damian: So, I thank each one of you for making time to come to this meeting today.

Tim:*Whispering* Oh wow, he must really need our help if he even thanks us for just being here.

Damian:*Glaring at Tim* As you all are aware, I am going out on an outing the day after tomorrow. Although I am sufficiently trained in proper dressing up, I would like to have a second or maybe third opinion.

Steph: You mean fifth opinion? Cause there are like 4 of us here.

Damian: It is a figure of speech, Brown. I'm sure you are not stupid enough to not know that.

Tim: I think he is trying to insult you but that sounds like a praise to me.

Duke: It's because you are a weirdo. How about we get back on track? So, what do you want our opinion on?

Damian turns the slide and a selection of clothes appears.

Damian: I need you to give me your opinion on which set of clothes are the most suitable for my outing.

Cass: What is the specific criteria for the selection?

Damian: I want the clothes to flesh out my features more.

Duke: As in making you look more handsome?

Damian: Yes.

Tim: Why do you need to look more handsome? I thought you are just going for some outing?

Steph: Shit! Don't you see it, Tim? He is going on a date. Look at those clothes. Those are the clothes that he only wears if there is a special occasion.

Duke: You are going on a date? With who? Does Bruce or Alfred know?

Damian: I already told Alfred about my outing. I am holding off on informing father of this event until there is any further progress. As for who, it is none of your concern.

Tim: Wait. Then why do you want our opinion on what you wear?

Damian: Because all of you have experience in relationships before. I would have invited Grayson if not for his fashion sense.

Duke: Fair warning, though. I am not good at these clothing things. It is usually Isabella that chooses my clothes.

Damian: Of course I know that. But given you are in a relationship with Ortiz for a long time already, I would assume her sense of fashion has already rubbed off a little on you.

Steph: Wait, so we are just gonna ignore that he is going on a date? Aren't any of you curious?

Tim: I already got her files. Name is Dani Fenton. 15. No school. Lives in the Bowery. Her sister is the therapist that Bruce is seeing. Has a brother. Her internet history is very clean. Like super duper clean. Almost tailored to make it seem like that.

Duke: Chances it is forged?

Tim: Likely. But I can't seem to find anything about her. Whether it is physical or online.

Cass: Are you sure she is safe?

Damian: Yes.

Steph: I'm not gonna stop you from romancing her but considering who you are the son of, we might need to prepare just in case.

Duke: Oh yeah. Hopefully she isn't anything like that. The last thing we need is another rogue in Gotham.

-Crime Alley-

Red Hood: So, why do you want to meet?

Spectre: I have information that you might want.

Spectre (Ellie) throws a file with a big red 'SECRET' on it onto the table. Red Hood picks it up and opens it.

As he flips through the pages, his breath becomes more ragged. His eyesight slowly turns more green and he could feel his blood pumping at a higher rate as his anger slowly builds up while reading the file.

Especially when he reads the part where they are part of the government. How dare the government do this? Not only are they killing people, they also label them as non living.

Red Hood: What do you want me to do with this information?

Spectre: It is up to you really. Since you are technically a hero, I decide to give this information to you first. However, do know that if you wish to take action, please do it quickly. A lot of "people" wish to have a piece of them.

After Spectre says that, she stands up from her chair and goes out of the room. Red Hood watches as the young gang leader leaves his office. Eyeing the file, he will call the Outlaw tomorrow. There is a government base to be blown up.

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #batfam #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny x cass #dead silent #cassandra cain #justice league #cass x danny

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 months ago

Text

I Put A Spell On You.

(Part Two)

Smoke and Rosetta got some makin’ up to do

It was a reflex for him to reach for his revolver. The sound of a withering floorboard caused Smokes to jump up from his sleep and grab it from the side table swiftly.

Click.

He was ready to aim and shoot down. Smokes’ unwavering gaze in that dimly-lit room cased out every dark corner and his ears listened for any signs of an intruder. He had good form and a lethal mental. He’d heard the sound again and instantly he aimed for the floor, finger on the trigger ready to pull.

A low meow followed by a pretty tabby-cat relaxed his tense muscles. Smokes lowered his weapon with ease before silently putting the revolver back on the night stand. His brandy-colored eyes tracked the movements of the cat between his legs, trying to get a feel of who this stranger was. Eventually, the sound of music on the jukebox and Rosetta’s soft snoring helped to steady his breathing and lower his pulse. Smokes reached to flick off the lamp light and carefully settled back into the rickety mattress. He took one look at Rosetta’s sleeping face before staring up at the ceiling.

Imagine rainfall, accompanied by the sound of a warm guitar slowly picking away at the layer of your sorrows, haunting, yet beautiful. A sense of serenity entered his mind, extinguishing the flames that burn his soul. For a moment, Smokes could feel, and think nothing. So brief, yet so long, he felt at ease. The melody carrying him across distant shores, feeling weightless in its entranced groove. He flew with the progression of the song, eyes closed, allowing his emotions to guide his path. Up and down his chest rose. Beyond the murky sky, the white glow of the moon shown through the window.

A dainty hand touched his chest. Smokes reached up to grasp it, rubbing it with his thumb. His bare dick against his thigh began to grow. Smokes brought her hand to his plump lips and kissed her there gently. The bed creaked beneath them. Smokes glanced down within the darkness, his eyes connecting with the sleepy, doe eyes of his Rosey. Her naked silhouette entranced him. The dip of her hip and the way her breasts hung from her chest aroused him to no end.

It was the way her long, deep wavy hair fell over the pillow. The pearls around her neck made her look ritzy and those red-tinged kissers made him salivate to taste her again. She was breathtaking. And Smokes didn’t lie when he meant she’s the most beautiful in N’awlins. Rosetta sat up and Smokes looked up into her heavenly face. Her fingertips danced across the ridges of muscle on his torso, her eyes never leaving his.

“Can’t sleep, daddy?” She says, voice soft and warm.

“That cat of yours woke me up out my sleep, gal…”

“Not you afraid of cats now…”

Rosetta giggled. Smokes chuckled slightly.

“I ain’t afraid of no fuckin’ cat…I’m just…been out there in some shit, baby. This the first time I had decent sleep.”

Rosetta looked towards Smokes’ revolver. Smoke followed her eyesight.

“I want one. My own gun.” Rosetta said.

“Oh?” Smokes sat up, “is that so?”

“Mhm. You can show me how to point that thang since you back home. Remember, you said you would…”

“I did.”

Rosetta sat up and Smokes situated her between his legs with her back against his chest. Grabbing the revolver, Smokes pointed it in a safe direction. A safe direction means that the gun is pointed in such a way that an accidental fire would not cause any harm. Rosetta watched with great interest. Smokes accessed the cylinder, emptying the bullets before clicking it back in place.

“Aight, Rosey…wrap your dominant hand ‘round the handle…use this hand for support.”

Arms outstretched, Smokes helped Rosetta point the revolver straight ahead at a wall covered with peeling paper.

“Straighten ya elbows, doll…no need to cock it, but steady ya breath…finger on the trigger…”

“It feels…heavy.”

“Hm. Imagine it with bullets.”

Smokes grazed Rosetta’s neck with his fluffy lips. The lingering smell of amber and sweat against his broad nose.

“That’s how you do it. I’ll take ya’ out to shoot soon…”

The urge to stuff his fat dick in her again created a tickling sensation just beneath his navel. Smokes felt at ease being with his woman again. He’d never leave her side again. Even if Stacks got in the way.

Smokes gave Rosey a wet sloppy kiss to her neck. She tilted her head and his thick tongue grazed over the rapid pulse in her neck and directly over that spot that got her wet every time. His thicker fingers were groping her breasts. Rosey released a breathy moan before looking back at Smokes, one hand on the back of his neck, forcing his lips against hers.

Their tongues moved in tandem, the squeaky springs of her not so sturdy bed surrounding them. Rosetta spun around and straddled his lap. Smokes kicked the sheets away from him, adjusting his large body to accommodate Rosetta. The wobbly, metal headboard banged against the wall when she flopped down into his lap.

One hand around her neck, Smokes tugged lightly, bringing Rosetta’s lips to his again. His other hand reached between her meaty thighs to feel the heat and dampness of her folds. Smokes growled against her lips. His dick was cast iron hard and read to fit inside her tight snatch again.

“Tilt ‘dem hips…atta, girl,” Smokes tapped her pussy with his big dick, “Time to fuck on this dick again, baby…”

“Yes, Papa…”

Rosetta wiggled her hips down onto Smokes thick pipe and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Smokes popped her on the ass hard, his way of telling her to get all the way down. Fully stuffed, Rosetta grabbed onto Smokes shoulders and with a whirl of her hips and a bounce she rode him on that rickety bed like it was her last time.

The fullness stretching her out made her shout Papa, Papa, Papa over and over. Smokes was too damn big for that bed but he made it work. He dug his heels into the lumpy mattress and with both hands he kept her cheeks spread while pumping up into her as she dropped down. Wet, skin slapping noises mixed with the way the bed jumped and creaked beneath them.

The steel of the revolver pressed against Rosetta’s knee each time she bounced. It was rough like she needed it. Deep dicking in her bedroom beneath the moonlight. Smokes slammed up in her so good Rosetta spread her thighs more to feel it stretch her. She craved the soreness, the way it tugged on her clit, the slight sting of his heavy balls slapping her ass.

Pop pop pop

Smack smack smack

Clap clap clap

“Damn, Rosey, gettin’ real whacky on that dick, fuck.”

Smokes grabbed her hips and helped her bounce on his length like a good little fuck doll. Her wavy hair shielded her eyes and those pretty titties swayed in his face.

“You hittin’ my spot, Big Daddy…you hittin’ it so good…make your pussy cum…make your bitch pussy cum…”

“Rosey–”

“Dig deeper, Papa–”

“Grip this dick and wet it up with that sweet nectar!”

Rosetta choked his dick with her walls and her cum trickled down his dick and over his balls. Hand in her hair, Smokes slammed his lips against hers while thrusting deeper.

He needed her more.

Smokes put Rosetta on her back and her legs in the air. He dived back in that pussy with his toes planted against the mattress. Rosetta clawed his back up and they both watched it go in and out. Smokes savored her nipples with his lips and tongue, ignoring the hollow dents in the wall from the headboard.

He grabbed a foot and stuck her red–painted toes in his mouth. Rosetta was super soaker wet on that dick, creating a large stain beneath her ass.

“I just wanna eat you up and fuck you…”

Smokes stared down at that hairy pussy with her leg thrown over his shoulder. He released a breath that came out like the hiss of a locomotive. That shit looked beautiful. If he could paint a picture of the way his dick all big and long spread her open he would. The sweat and humidity in that room made it hard to breath. All he wanted to do was be in his woman. They’ll crack a window eventually.

Well, I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

You don't like good grindin', you ain't gotta bit of sense

It's been going on ever since the world commenced

If you don't like good grindin', ain't gotta bit of sense

‘Cause it's been going on, ever since the world commenced…

“That’s it, Big Daddy, cum all in your fat pussy…”

“Oh, yeah?”

Smokes folded Rosetta in half and pounded the fuck outta her. She furrowed her brows, chewed on that lip hard, and spread her pussy lips with those red nails like she wasn’t open enough already.

“Smokes! Yes! Don’t stop fucking me! Don’t stop fuckin’ your creamy pussy! Milk it, Daddy! Fill me up! Papa! That good hard dick!”

“Ahhhhhhhh–”

“Smoke…oooh…yes…yes…right there, daddy…don’t stop…ooooo shiiiit, daddy…fuuck….get it, da–DDY…”

Smokes gave Rosetta a heated glare and just like that he was filling her to the brim with his thick semen, painting her walls heavily. Dick slipping out, he painted her clit with more. Smokes rubbed his tip between her folds, eliciting a creamy noise. Their tired breaths mingled. Smokes slipped from the bed and stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

He ran a bath and took a piss. Rosetta perched her gorgeous frame against the doorway, body glistening from sweat and cum. She was a sight to behold. Smokes is a lucky man. A bar of Palmolive sat untouched on the edge of the claw foot tub. While Smokes shook the access urine from his dick, Rosetta opened a jar filled with lavender, rosemary, and chamomile herbs, sprinkling it into the tub.

It was big enough to fit the both of them. Smokes slipped in first and then Rosetta settled in front of him. They used a soap sponge to clean each other off thoroughly. This was serenity. Encased in her sweet embrace.

“I love you, Rosey.” He whispered.

“And I love you…”

——

The smell of bacon and butter wafted Rosetta’s nose that early morning. She sat up, messy hair in her face while she stretched her tired arms above her head. Smokes being gone told her that he was cooking up some breakfast. Rosetta threw her sheets back from her body and snatched a satin robe from a coat hanger next to her bed. Feet sliding into a pair of house shoes, she looked down and noticed deep scratches in the wood paneling.

She would need to cover that up with a rug or get someone to buffer that out. She didn’t want her mama to have a fit.

Rosetta made her way into the kitchen, the tea kettle whistling as she approached. Smokes moved about the small room with a blunt between his lips and his dick out and swangin. Rosetta admired his tight ass before her eyes swept over his muscular back. She could see that he was making bacon, buttered toast, eggs, and grits. Smokes sat the cast iron on the stove and looked back when he’d heard footsteps.

“Mornin’ sunshine…”

He pecked her lips.

“Smells real good in here,” Rosetta stole a slice of bacon, “I’m hungry from all that sex.”

“Gotta feed you then, huh?” Smokes winked at Rosetta.

Rosetta stole the blunt from his lips and took a hit.

She coughed slightly, Smokes chuckling.

“Careful wit’ that there, Rosey…”

She took another hit and blew smoke towards him to taunt him before sticking her tongue out. Smoke tapped her on the booty.

“Sit that pretty tail down. I’m a plate this food up.”

Rosetta settled in a dining chair. She noticed the news paper and fresh milk on the table. He must of gone to grab it. Rosetta grabbed the paper and opened it to read. She crossed one shapely leg over the other blunt between her fingers as she held the paper up.

“A train hijacking?” Rosetta announced with surprise.

Smokes glanced over at Rosetta while her brown eyes were glued to the paper. He packed her plate and walked over, placing it in front of her. Back at the stove, Smokes poured her a cup of tea.

“Jesus, killed everyone on board…”

“Gimme’ some neck…”

Rosetta tilted her lips towards Smokes and he stuck his tongue in her mouth. The grip she had on the paper slipped. Smokes snatched it from her grasp and placed it on the table with a loud slap.

“Eat, girl.”

Rosetta grabbed her fork but her eyes remained on Smokes. He could feel her staring while he situated himself across from her.

“Level with me, Smokes…you know ‘bout this?”

“Don’t know from nothing, gal. Eat.”

“I’ll eat when you talk to me.”

“Ain’t nothin to share, baby. Everything is copacetic…”

“Did Stacks do this?” Rosetta questioned.

Smokes’ fork clashed with the table. He gave Rosetta a pointed look of warning. Letting her know to drop it.

“Wasn’t Stacks. Wasn’t me. Wasn’t nobody to get all worked up over. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Smokes…I don’t want you gettin’ yourself in trouble. It’s enough that Phonzo wants you dead—”

“Phonzo punk ass already dead. Might as well call it what it is.”

Rosetta bit her tongue. She knew arguing wouldn’t get her the answers she needed. She didn’t want Smokes to return and get himself into deep shit. She knew he was more than capable of handling himself, but Rosetta needed him alive, especially if she planned to marry him and have his butterball babies.

They ate in silence, the food tasty. Smokes sensed that she wanted more, so he filled her plate up again and Rosetta thanked him with a small smile and a kiss. Smokes watched her eat while smoking his weed and when she finished he cleaned. Rosetta drank her tea with those smooth and thick ol’ gams teasing Smoke’s eyes.

As he scrubbed, Rosetta spread her legs in that chair and spread her lower lips with her fingers. Sweet pink graced his eyes. Smokes watched her stroke her clit. He was high and horny again. Dick stood out like a flag pole.

“You want daddy to eat that pussy…”

“Mhm,” Rosetta licked her plump lips.

Smokes dried his hands and marched over to Rosetta. He picked her up and walked her to the couch.

“Wait, not here—”

“This Miss. Doris’ good furniture,” Smokes laughed, not caring at all about the sofa, “Good thing it’s covered in plastic…”

Her legs parted like the Red Sea. Hips aching and inner thighs burning. Smokes wasted no time slurping on her pussy with a wet tongue and thick lips. Rosetta palmed the back of his head and mushed his face in it. He had a habit of being loud while eating pussy. She could feel herself creaming on his chin when he latched onto her clit to suck.

“Yes, oh, fuck, mmmm….”

Rosetta frowned her pretty face. She had a face that belonged in movies. A rare beauty. Smokes never took his eyes off of her, not even when she came in his mouth. He stuck his tongue so far up her pussy to catch it all. Her robe had spilled open, revealing that hot body to him again. Smokes reached up and rolled her nipples between his fingers while continuing to feast on her overflowing pussy.

Smokes popped his lips off her clit to stare down at his work, “you betta cum again,” He sucked again before stopping, “Cum in my mouth before I stuff you again,” He slurped her up again and Rosetta moaned out, “You know who this pussy belong to. Not Phonzo, not no other nigga…”

Rosetta had to pick her lip up to stop herself from drooling. Her eyes crossed as another orgasm rocked her body. She closed her thighs around Smokes head, unable to take the licks he was giving her.

“Got me ready to fuck again,” Smokes took it upon himself to bend Rosetta over the couch, “Bend that back…atta girl…daddy’s good girl,” Smokes spread her ass cheeks wide and grunted, “Shit, Rosey…”

He hunched his body and with the power of his hips he sank into that good twat. Rosetta rode his tip before he could even fit in. He popped her on the ass with his wide palm before thrusting up and deep. Already she was creaming on his dick. Smokes had her by the arms as he pounded.

Rosetta had that IT like no other. Pretty ass voice, pretty ass doll, perfect pussy, perfect face. Smokes watched her head loll back and forth from the momentous pounding he was giving her. That back arched and that ass jiggling. Her knees almost slipped from the sofa so Smokes had to fix her and put his hand in the middle of her back to keep her stationary.

“I’m a fuck a baby in you.”

Rosetta moaned and clenched his dick.

“Like that? Like when I tell you how I’m a get you pregnant? Like that, sweet baby? Make me a Daddy?”

“YES!”

“All wet on Big Daddy’s dick.”

“Oh, Jesus!” Rosetta yelped when his hand wrapped around her neck from the front, bucking those strong hips and slapping those big nuts against her clit.

Smokes growled deep and with two staggering strokes he came inside of her again. He abruptly turned Rosetta’s head and plunged his tongue into her mouth.

Crack!

Smokes slipped out of Rosey fast and stood tall. Rosetta turned onto her backside quickly, staring up at Smokes with wide eyes.

“Fuck was dat?”

Smokes moved with a brisk pace towards the window within the kitchen, he peered down past the small glass panel at his car.

“What is it, Elijah?”

Rosetta stood behind him with a worried look etched into her beautiful face. Smokes took deep breaths before exiting the kitchen, Rosetta on his heels. He entered her room and grabbed up his pants, uncaring that his underwear sat on the floor.

“Elijah!”

“Stay here…”

Smokes grabbed up his revolve and loaded it up.

Click.

He stormed out of Rosetta’s apartment and down the small staircase leading into the boutique. As he drew closer, his eyes became wild with anger. He unlocked the door and stormed out into the smelting heat with his gun raised. There, a brick lay at his feet. Smokes bent down to pick it up, his cognac eyes following a trail of broken glass until he came upon the shattered window of his Cadillac.

Some people gathered outside to see what all the fuss was about. Smokes peered at them, eyes accusatory and rageful. He knew it had to be someone from Phonzo’s crew. A cheap shot, but still…Smokes was furious. Chest puffed out, he tossed the brick and entered the shop. Locking it up tightly, Smokes turned to find Rosetta staring up at him with a fearful glance.

“They busted out your window…”

“Ain’t nothin’ I can get that patched up…”

Smokes grabbed Rosetta by the elbow, turning her back towards the stairs.

“Daddy gotta go handle some thangs…I want you to stay put and out the way—”

“I’m coming with you, Elijah—”

“No—”

“YES! Yes the fuck I am!”

Rosetta snatched her arm from his hold and stood firm as she glared down at him on the steps.

“I’m tagging along whether ya like it or not.”

Smokes clenched his jaw. Their eyes danced between each other before Rosetta turned her back at him, climbing up.

——

“Scotch…”

Smokes accepted his glass, adjusting Rosetta in his lap. He sat across from his twin, Stacks, the gold in his mouth gleaming. They were sitting in a bar, the sound of distant chatter and glass in the background. The smoke from the cigars they were smoking billowed out like a thick fog. Rosetta wore a chocolate–brown Blondell dress with pantyhose and embroidered T–Straps on her feet in gold. A cloche hat that had covered most of her hair and much of her face was a last minute accessory since she didn’t have time to fix her hair after sweating it all out fucking.

Smokes’ 8-panel hat sat over his own messy hair and he wore his button down shirt untidy with his white beater on display. Stacks looked dapper in his double-breasted mahogany suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Copper silk tie, and black and brown woven Oxford shoes complete the look. His fedora sat on the table next to him.

The Big Cheese took a sip of his own scotch.

“How was your night with that snow bunny?”

Stacks chuckled, “As good as yours was I’m sure, brother. Lay it on me…Phonzo askin’ to go war? Does he not know who he fuckin’ wit?”

“You know dat nigga stupid, Stacks,” He checks his dominoes, “I got word that he’ll want to meet up tonight. I’m not much for talkin’…”

“Hm,” Smokes puffed on his cigar before speaking, “You thinkin’ the corn field?”

“Dig a ditch or two,” Smokes threw out.

“I’ll get Monty on it.”

Rosetta listened to the twins discuss killing and burying Phonzo and whoever else in a corn field. She shivered within Smokes’ lap.

“How ya been, Rosey? Still singing?”

“Of course,” Rosetta smirked at Stacks, “Still gettin’ into trouble I see.”

“You mean your man here,” Stacks pointed towards Smokes, “He’s the trouble.”

“How so?”

“Go on and tell her how you was in Texas.”

Rosetta quirked an arched brow. Smokes shook his head.

“Takin’ his word over mine ain’t the way to go, baby.”

“Uh-huh.” Rosetta wasn’t fully convinced.

She grabbed Smokes’ glass and took a sip. Rosetta watched the twins play another round of dominoes and catch up before Stacks made his leave. He had to make sure things were in order before tonight. A jazz ballad played and Rosetta swayed her hips in Smokes’ lap. She could feel him poking and the thought of sliding up and down on that pole sent chills down her spine.

“Careful there, Tiger,” Rosetta lifted his chin with her finger, “I still gotta cook you dinner.”

“A meal before I bump off? My kinda lady…”

Josephine Baker–I Love My Baby started playing, her voice projecting in a way that emphasized a higher frequency, leading to a brighter, more nasal tone. Rosetta caressed Smokes’ handsome face while staring deeply into his eyes. She sang along to the words, husky breathy tone drawing him in.

Sometimes we quarrel and maybe we fight

But then we make up the following night

When we're together we're great company

I love my baby, my baby loves me

The spell she had on Smokes brought him to his knees before her. He stared at her with those bedroom eyes and a half smirk while she sang to him in his lap. That smoking hot chassis was enough to make him fuck her right there. Smoke tapped his foot and rocked his head while she serenaded him. Others in the bar watched with wonder while balancing liquor and ciggs.

When the song faded out, Rosetta gave Smokes a slow kiss. A wolf whistle echoed and Smokes removed his hat to shield them from view so he could tongue his woman down.

“If it’s a girl, I wanna name her Ella, after my mama…”

“That’s a beautiful name, Elijah.” Rosetta smiled against his lips.

“If it’s a boy,” Smokes took a sip of his scotch, “Emmett.”

Rosetta swatted his bicep with her dainty hand.

“What was that fa’?!” Smokes protested with a dimpled grin.

“I was thinkin’ the same thing!”

“That’s why you my woman…”

Smokes kissed on Rosetta’s neck causing her to giggle. They were both pleasantly faded.

“Is that Smokes?”

“Ida Mae…”

The curvy dame settled in front of them, dolled up and doused in perfume. The smell of Bergamot, Orange Blossom and Lemon burning Rosetta’s nose. Her back stiffened as she surveyed the woman with her sultry eyes and chandelier earrings. Her dark red lips quirked up into a flirty smile.

“When did you high tail back into Nola?”

“A day ago. Why’s you askin’?”

Ida Mae locked eyes with Rosetta for a second.

“Just missed ya’ that’s all. Stacks back too?”

“Ya’ know it.” Smokes replied, caressing Rosetta’s waist, “This is my woman, Rosetta. Rosey, this here is Ida Mae…”

“Pleasantries,” Ida Mae tilted her head in greeting.

Rosetta’s lips remained sealed.

“She owns that whore house in Storyville.”

“Is that so?”

Rosetta cut her eyes at Smokes.

“Yes, a good business if ya’ ask me. Selling pussy is on the up and up, especially these days. Got too much shit to stress about.”

Was he dipping in pussy she didn’t know about? Why the fuck would Ida do some disrespectful shit and flirt with her man in front of her? Smokes had some explaining to do.

“Well, just wanted to say hello. Good seeing ya’ Smokes…tell Stacks I said don’t be a stranger…”

“Will do, Ida.”

She walked away with a tantalizing sway of her hips.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” Rosetta cut to the quick.

“I ain’t fuck nobody else if that’s what ya’ asking.”

“You fuck Ida? Don’t lie to me Smokes…”

“Rosey, cut it out. Ida and Stacks used to fuck ‘round. Probably still do.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m no sappy bird I can tell. Prolly made a stop to that whore house before coming to me. Been writing Ida to keep that pussy ready—”

“Rosey, shut up.” Smokes said through gritted teeth.

“Shut up?” Rosetta kissed her teeth before pushing off of Smokes’ lap, “Go after her!”

Smokes narrowed his eyes at her.

“I ain’t lying to you, Rosetta.”

Rosetta stomped away towards the exit. Smokes followed after her, catching her before she could open the door. He walked with her in his grasp outside, the afternoon heat unbearable. Already he was sweating profusely. Smokes turned her around to face him. Rosetta pointed her gaze over his shoulder, refusing to look at him.

She could be so damn stubborn sometimes.

“I love you. Only you. You need to understand that and quick,” Smokes spoke angrily so close to Rosetta’s face his breath laced with liquor and a hint of chocolate and black pepper from his cigar wafted her nose.

Rosetta pouted. Smokes gripped her chin tight to make her look him in the eye. He needed her to know he was serious.

“Stop it, hear me?”

��Okay…”

She looked from his eyes to his lips.

“So damn hard–headed…”

He kissed her lips before popping her on the ass.

“I’m a drop you off at the shop, okay? I gotta get this window fixed.”

Smokes made sure Rosetta was settled in her seat before he got in. The drive was less than ten minutes. Smokes made sure she was situated, blowing her a kiss through the glass door of the shop before driving off.

Rosetta’s doe eyes followed Smokes’ retreating car.

She wanted to believe he was loyal to her and only her. He’d always been. Maybe it was her mother’s words making her feel insecure. Her mother hated Elijah. Rosetta planned to cook up a steak dinner for Smokes. Ready to get to it, she climbed the stairs and before she opened her door, she noticed a kitchen knife sticking out of the keyhole.

Rosetta gasped, hand covering her mouth. Fear consumed her as she stood there, staring between the crack of the door and into a pitch black abyss. It was eerily silent. Rosetta took a chance and pushed open the door. The light from the stairwell flooded the room. So far, as she peeked inside, she couldn’t see anyone.

Rosetta stepped over the threshold and grabbed the handle of the knife, tugging it to release. She held the knife out in front of her, hand shaking with nerves. Her glossy eyes bounced left and right. She fully stepped inside, frantically moving her hand along the wall until she felt the string of the lamp light. A pinch of relief flooded her veins when the room brightened.

That was all stripped from her just as fast when a gloved hand slipped over her mouth and the weight of a gun pressed into her hip.

——

Hope ya’ll enjoy part two 😏😌

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixt @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @princessxotwod @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #michaelbaejordan #michealbjordan #sinners 2025

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 7 months ago

Text

Trick or Treat | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is my second Halloween fic this year because I have no self control!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: anxiety

Sam’s Halloween bash launched into full swing, and seemed as though it would last till sunrise. Music pulsed through a set of massive speakers. Alcohol flowed. And throngs of people danced the night away.

Just as Sam instructed, everyone arrived decked out in costume. And as you scanned the crowd, you found Ghost Face doing shots with Barbie. Michael Myers grinding on Freddy Kreuger. Pennywise flirting with Beetlejuice. It was a picture perfect Halloween party- save for one thing.

Bucky hadn’t arrived yet.

All of the partygoers formed a large, pulsating mass as they danced and celebrated, but you remained off to the side. In an empty, isolated corner, you checked and rechecked your texts. You’d already shot Bucky a few messages asking when he’d show. Asking if he was alright. And he swore he was fine. He said he’d be there soon, but that was as specific as he’d get.

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute!” Wanda yelled over the music. She swayed to the beat, swishing the skirt of her dress back and forth. Every few seconds, she stole a glance at the dance floor with want in her eyes. “Come on, let’s go dance!”

“I’m with Mary,” Nat downed the last of her drink and draped her arm over Wanda’s shoulders. “The Sanderson Sisters are the life of the party, we have a reputation to uphold!”

When the three of you decided to coordinate your costumes, Hocus Pocus had been the obvious choice. In the weeks leading up to Sam’s party, you helped one another piece together flawless renditions of each Sanderson Sister. Wanda decided on Mary, and Nat dressed up as Sarah, leaving you to adopt Winifred’s famous ensemble.

And you had to admit, the three of you looked amazing.

But you couldn’t run to the dance floor and party with abandon- not yet, anyway. Bucky said he’d be there. He swore to you that he’d make an appearance. And while a loud, overcrowded party wasn’t his favorite way to spend an evening, he knew he had to challenge himself. To expand his comfort zone.

He wanted so badly to be “normal”. To function like a “regular” person. But he struggled. He had flashbacks. Panic attacks. Long depression spirals. And his anxiety always had the reigns.

But he’d fought tooth and nail to vanquish his demons, and now that he was making progress and healing bit by bit, he wanted to join the ranks of "ordinary" society.

And Sam’s party was the perfect opportunity. It was a safe, controlled environment where Bucky could stretch his comfort zone. Sure, it was loud and packed with people, but that was the whole point. If he was going to be “normal”, he had to be okay with noise and crowds; Sam’s party had both. But there was nothing for him to worry about, nothing to fear. He would perfectly and totally safe here. At least half of the attendees were fellow special agents, and you and Sam promised to stick with him all night.

But the party started over an hour ago, and he still hadn’t shown. Worry creased your brow; it wasn’t like him to be late.

“I think I’m just gonna hang out here for now,” you leaned against the wall and brandished your phone at them, “So I can make sure I don’t miss a call or anything.”

“You do you, sister,” Nat brushed a kiss against your cheek, “Mary and I are gonna command the dance floor.”

The two of them ran off, arm in arm, in the direction of the crowd.

“Is he on his way?” Sam came around the corner, two drinks in hand. He extended one in your direction and sipped on the other. “I haven’t heard back.”

“I don’t know.” You took a long pull of your drink, “I asked if he was coming and he said yes, but he didn’t give me a specific ETA, or anything.”

Sam shrugged, “I think he might flake.”

That same sneaking suspicion had crossed your mind a few times over the last hour, but you refused to accept it. Surely, Bucky just needed a little extra time to prepare himself. To get in the right headspace.

“I’m gonna- would you take this for a sec?” You handed your drink back to Sam, who swore to keep a watchful eye on it while you stepped outside to call Bucky.

The phone rang and rang. And you feared it might go to voicemail. But at the last possible second, Bucky picked up.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Something was off. He sounded almost nervous, like he’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, Buck.” You kept your tone light. “Are you gonna be here soon?”

A long silence permeated the line.

“Um, yes. Yeah, I’m on my way right now,” he assured you. “Shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll see you in a bit. Okay?”

“Great." You didn't buy it for a second. "See you soon.”

For an ex-assassin with decades of stealth training and countless kills on his hands, Bucky was a terrible liar. But only when it came to you. He just couldn’t deceive his best friend, couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes. He simply didn’t have it in him; his brain and body rejected even the concept of swindling you.

You knew for a fact that he was still at his apartment. Knew that his anxiety had won. You could practically see him sitting at home all alone, hating himself for flaking on yet another get-together. And while his closest friends danced the night away, he’d spend the entire evening berating himself. Chastising himself.

But you wouldn’t allow it. With a determined huff, you ditched the party, and set off in the direction of Bucky's apartment.

Bucky stared at the costume you’d carefully helped him assemble. It sat neatly folded on his kitchen table, all he had to do was put it on and head out the door. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. And it infuriated him.

He spent weeks mentally preparing himself for this. He meditated, journaled, and even sought out extra therapy sessions. But none of it worked. He was still a slave to his anxiety, bending to every whim of the monsters in his head.

The whole thing was so stupid- it was just a party. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to fear. But part of his brain, the part that hated him, told him it would be too much. That he’d immediately get overwhelmed by the noise and the people and the lights. That it was a panic attack waiting to happen.

He feared what onlookers might think, what they might say, if he broke down in the middle of the festivities. And he didn’t want to chance ruining Sam’s party.

And so, he’d lied to you. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was for the best. He just wanted you to have a good time. Wanted you to spend the night dancing with Nat and Wanda instead of worrying about him. It was better this way.

A sharp knock jolted him from his seat on the couch. He crossed to the front door and pulled it open, expecting to see a group of candy-obsessed kids in costumes. But he found something else, entirely.

“Trick or treat!” You held a bottle of whiskey and a bag of candy proudly in the air, “Happy Halloween, Buck.”

Bucky took on a deer in the headlights kind of look. He was shocked, completely frozen. And as the surprise melted away, he found himself awash in strange mix of anxiety and guilt. You’d caught him in his lie; you’d found him out. And with you standing on his doorstep, he had nowhere to run.

“Sweetheart, hey. Hi. Um, Happy- Yeah, Happy Halloween.” He tripped over himself again and again, his heart racing. “I was just about to call you and-”

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble,” you shot him a wink. “I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

He gestured for you to come in and you happily accepted, sweeping past him in your elaborate costume. But he was so bewildered, so overwhelmed, that he left the door wide open.

“What are you doing here?” Quickly, he clarified, “Not that I don’t want you here. I just mean- why aren’t you at the party?”

“Cause I came to hang out with you!” You shrugged, “Plus, there’s no point in me going if you’re not there.”

Bucky appreciated your loyalty, your dedication to him. But he couldn’t let you sit on the sidelines with him.

“That’s sweet of you, and I’m more than happy to have you here, but I know you’ve been looking forward to the party and your costume and everything. And I don’t want to ruin your Halloween.” He leaned against his open door, “So, it won’t hurt my feelings if you-”

“My Halloween will only be ruined if we don’t hang out. So, come on,” once again, you held up the candy and alcohol, “trick or treat, Buck.”

With a stubborn smile, Bucky shut the door. He watched you struggle with the bag of candy and laughed as you used your teeth to tear through the plastic.

“You know, I think you’re doing the whole ‘trick or treat’ thing backwards,” he said as he fished a Twix out of the bag. “Cause you brought candy instead of taking some from me.”

“Or maybe I’m a Halloween pioneer, and I’m inventing new traditions,” you offered. “Now, let’s crack this open.”

Bucky gladly took the bottle of whiskey from you and led you to the kitchen. He crafted old fashioneds for the both of you and clinked his glass with yours. His night had taken a very sharp, very sudden upswing, and he was more than grateful.

“I saw some kiddos trick or treating down the hall, and at least four of them were dressed up like Sam,” you laughed. “Have they been here yet?”

You eyed the large bowl of candy sitting by the front door. It was still full, nearly overflowing with sugary treats. And you realized: it was completely untouched. No greedy little hands had dug through it yet. No mischievous kids had snatched a handful or two. It just sat there, waiting.

It was sweet of Bucky to be prepared, to buy treats for the kids in the area. He was trying so hard to connect with people. To be a member of society. He wanted so badly to be seen as a person. But the world only saw him for his past.

“Um, no, I haven’t had any trick or treaters,” Bucky said, “Well, except for you.”

You shot him a wink a took a drag of your drink.

“But I’ve heard them- they’ve been running up and down my hall all night. I just don’t think…” He clinked his metal fingers against his glass, “I don’t think any of the parents in my building want their kids knocking on my door.”

His shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, and his head fell an inch or two. Saying it out loud was humiliating. He’d thought- he’d hoped- that the city would embrace him. That they’d celebrate his return. But the only welcome he’d received was dirty looks and people spitting at him on the subway.

Bucky’s words knocked the air from your chest. A combination of heartbreak and unbridled rage swirled inside of you; it was all so unfair. Bucky didn’t deserve to be treated like a pariah or a threat. He was least intimidating, most approachable person you’d ever met. Sure, he was a little shy. But he was so warm. So kind. He genuinely cared about people. He wanted to help his community and make people feel safe. But they refused to give him a chance.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you took his hand in yours, “More candy for us.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a long, much needed hug. He would never be able to express how much he appreciated your undying support. Your unconditional friendship. He knew without a doubt that he could always count on you. And after living in an unpredictable, erratic state of limbo for so many years, he cherished your consistency.

Bucky dug through the candy you brought, searching for a Snickers. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m really glad you came over.” He abandoned his candy hunt and brought his gaze up to yours, “Seriously. Thanks for being here.”

“Anytime, Buck. You know that.” You tucked the bag of candy under your arm and snatched your glass from the counter, “Come on, let’s watch a scary movie.”

Bucky followed your lead, only straying from the path for a moment or two. And when he returned, he brandished his overflowing bowl of candy in your direction. “I mean, if the kids aren’t gonna eat it…”

He sank into the couch next to you and took a swig of his drink as he watched you dig through the massive bowl of candy. A bit of guilt gnawed at him; he’d been so surprised to see you at his door that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the hard work you’d put into your costume. And as you picked through his candy stash, he drank in the details of your ensemble: the perfectly crafted make up, the ornate dress, the complicated hairstyle. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Your costume is fucking incredible, by the way. You did an amazing job.”

“Oh, thanks!” A proud smile stretched across your face, “If it wasn’t so ridiculously uncomfortable, I’d probably wear it every day. But this corset is…” You pinched and pulled at the tight garment, “Definitely not intended for daily wear.”

“Then let me get you something to more comfortable.” Bucky was up in the blink of an eye, and before you could protest, he was gone.

In the time it took you to locate and unwrap a Kit Kat, he’d arrived in the living room with a change of clothes for you. It was just a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt with BROOKLYN emblazoned on the front, but after spending hours in an uncomfortable corset, you swore he was offering you a slice of heaven.

With greedy hands, you accepted the clothes, “You’re a life saver!”

You sped off down the hall, promising to be back in a flash.

Bucky scrolled through the scary movies Netflix had to offer, but didn’t pay much attention. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d planned on spending the night all by himself. He figured he’d oscillate between sulking and self-flagellation until he finally fell asleep. But you’d saved him, as you so often did.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for the clothes. Now, I can actually breathe.” You plopped down on the couch next to Bucky, “Okay, what do you wanna watch?”

Bucky scrolled through a few more movies, “I don’t know, I haven’t heard of most of these. I thought I’d defer to you.”

You motioned for him to continue scrolling and gave him a little synopsis each time one of your favorites popped up on the screen.

He listened closely and took your summaries into careful consideration. And after hemming and hawing over his options, he found himself torn. “This is tough, but I’m thinking we go with It Follows or Evil Dead.”

“Both excellent choices!” You clinked your glass against his, “Let’s do It Follows first, and then if we want to watch another, we can follow up with Evil Dead.”

“Deal.”

Bucky scrolled back a page or two and selected It Follows. The movie’s opening scene began, showcasing a quiet, suburban street. You tucked yourself closer into Bucky’s side and tore into a package of M&Ms, preparing to be scared.

But after only a minute or so, Bucky paused the movie.

He turned to you, “Hey, I’m sorry about the party.”

“Buck, we talked about this. I’d rather hang out with you than-”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry I bailed.” He pulled his gaze from your face and placed it on the ice melting in his drink. “My anxiety kind got the best of me. And I-” He locked eyes with you, “I swear I tried. I wanted to go. But I just… I couldn’t do it.” His sudden eye roll caught you off guard, “The whole thing is so ridiculous, it was just a party, but even thinking about going made my hands shake.”

“It’s not ridiculous. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still trying to wade through all the shit Hydra saddled you with.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “Healing takes time. And it’s not a linear process. You’re gonna have ups and downs- that’s perfectly normal.”

All he could manage was a sigh.

“Like you said, it was just a party. Nothing major. So, who cares if you bailed? All that matters is that you made the right choice for you.”

“I guess.” He carded a hand through his hair, “I just want to be done with it all, you know? I want to be able to do things that normal people do.”

“I know. But, you have to give yourself some grace, okay?” You brushed a gentle hand over his cheek, “And you need to be patient. Cause there’s no skipping to the end with this stuff.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“So, cut yourself some slack, okay?” You nudged his shoulder with yours, “No one is more deserving of slack than you.”

“I don’t know about that-”

“If the roles were reversed,” you posited, “And I’d been through all of the trauma and abuse that you went through, would you be upset with me if I couldn’t do certain things because of my anxiety ?”

“No,” he gave a fervent shake of his head. “Never.”

“And would you want me to be kind to myself?”

Without pause, an “of course” fell from his lips.

“Okay, then you need to extend that same kindness and understanding to yourself.”

“But I just want to be able to do stuff with you,” he huffed. “I want to go to parties with you. And concerts. And-”

“Hey, all that will come with time, okay? There’s no rush.” Once again, you gave his hand a squeeze, “You’re my best friend, and I just wanna hang out with you. So, it doesn’t matter what we do. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy.”

Bucky eyed you for a second, “You mean that?”

You nodded, “I swear on my life.”

An awkward smile crossed his face, “Then I guess I should tell you that I’m not- I really don’t want to watch a scary movie.”

“Oh, shit. My bad, Buck. We can watch anything you want,” you said, “You pick.”

With a few taps of the remote, Bucky opened an entirely different streaming service and selected a safe movie free of actual scares.

“It’s still on theme with Halloween,” he promised, “But at least it’s not gonna give me more nightmares.”

“Yeah, whatever you want, I don’t-” The opening lines of Hocus Pocus filled the room, and you delivered a playful punch to Bucky’s arm.

He let out a loud laugh, “I had to, sweetheart. You’ve still got the make up on and everything.”

You pelted him with a few M&Ms before settling close to him. He draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you tight, relishing in your warmth. He was so lucky to have you as his friend, so lucky to know you. He couldn’t believe you’d ditched the party you’d looked forward to for weeks- all for him. Couldn’t believe that you were spending your favorite holiday unceremoniously watching movies on his couch.

But he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. After everything he’d gone through, he was just grateful that he’d befriended someone with such a kind heart. And as he settled in to experience Hocus Pocus for the first time, he started plotting how he’d make things up to you next Halloween.

———————————————

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

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jzprncess · 7 months ago

Text

love language by sza

“help me understand how you speak your love language ”

pairing: Max Verstappen x Y/N reader

part 1/2 next part

word count: 2,823

summary: a girlfriend of a successful f1 driver decides to learn Dutch to better understand her boyfriends world—his culture, his emotions, and the language he speaks—hoping to connect more deeply and navigate the complexities of their high-speed, high-pressure relationship.

note: first time writing a fan fiction so be nice please! i don’t know how to work tumblr to the fullest so if you want to requests anything, message it to me! this will be in two parts! please leave comments so i know im doing something right!!

　　　　　　 ❛ ━━･♡❪ ❁ ❫♡･━━ ❜

Out of all the unexpected turns her life had taken, learning another language was never on Y/N's radar. Yet, here she was, grappling with the complexities of Dutch, staring at her laptop screen during a Zoom call with her tutor, Anne. They had been chatting frequently, especially while Max was off competing in a grueling triple-header race weekend.

Before he left, Y/N had noticed the shadow of frustration in Max's eyes, a rare shift from his usually upbeat demeanor. It wasn’t lost on her—or anyone, really. The weight of the season’s challenges had begun to press down on him, making his once confident posture seem a little more hunched, his usual optimism now clouded by self-doubt. Everyone could see it. With the way the season had started, Max had envisioned triumph. But now, in October, his hopes felt distant. He hadn’t clinched a victory since June, and every reminder of that fact only seemed to add to his frustration. Y/N wished she could lift that burden, even if just for a moment.

In an attempt to brighten his spirits, she decided to do something special for him—a gesture that would help him escape the pressure he was under. The very day he departed, Y/N found herself scouring the internet, searching for someone who could teach her some basic Dutch. Max, ever the romantic, had always whispered sweet phrases in his native tongue—whether it was giving her a compliment or simply wishing her a good morning. And though she often required translations, Y/N thought, Why not learn the language myself? It couldn’t be that difficult, right?

And so, here she was, earnestly trying to master the phrase “I love you, handsome” in Dutch, yet somehow fumbling over the words.

“Y/N, your pronunciation is getting better, but you need to keep practicing,” Anne encouraged from the other side of the screen, her fingers dancing over her keyboard. The rhythmic sound of her typing seemed to fill the space between them, as if punctuating her words with gentle encouragement. “Have you taken my advice and started watching shows in Dutch? Immersing yourself in the language will really help you improve, especially with those tricky pronunciations.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, and stared at the screen, her lips pressing together as she tried to hold back the exhaustion creeping in. She had been working hard at this—between the classes, the practice, the late nights watching Dutch shows, and the constant racing schedule with Max, it was all starting to feel like a lot. “Yeah, I’ve been talking to the TV like it’s my best friend,” she said with a small, self-deprecating chuckle, her voice sounding a bit weary. “The characters probably think I’m crazy by now. But, you know, I think I’m making progress? Or at least I hope I am.”

Anne’s eyebrows raised in an encouraging way. “Well, that’s the spirit! The more you immerse yourself, the more natural it will feel. Dutch can be tricky, especially with its sounds, but you’re not giving up, and that’s what matters.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. It had been one of those days—between working on the language and managing the quiet space Max left behind when he was away, the weight of it all was starting to wear on her. “I don’t know... I keep stumbling over the same words, Anne. Like, I feel like I’m so close to getting it, but then I hear myself speak Dutch, and it just sounds... off. I’m trying, but it’s hard to know if I’m really improving.”

Anne smiled gently from the screen, as though she understood exactly where Y/N was coming from. “That’s completely normal. Language learning isn’t a straight path. There are ups and downs, but the key is to be patient with yourself. Remember, it’s not about perfection—it’s about progress. You’re already doing so much more than most people would.”

“I guess so.” Y/N’s voice softened, her eyes drifting away for a moment, lost in thought. “I just wish I could see it, you know? Max always speaks so fluently, and when he says something sweet in Dutch, it sounds so effortless. I want to understand it all, to be able to speak with him like that without stumbling or needing translations.”

Anne nodded, her face sympathetic. “I get that. You want to connect with him in the language that’s so familiar to him, and that’s a beautiful thing. But don’t forget, language is just one part of communication. Max will appreciate your effort no matter where you are in your learning. It’s about the intention, the heart behind it. And besides, if you’re working hard at it, he’ll see that.”

Y/N let out a small sigh, leaning forward in her chair and running a hand through her hair. “I just want him to know how much I’m trying. I know it’s hard for him when the season gets tough, and I want to be able to understand him better, not just the words, but how he’s feeling... especially when he gets frustrated. I want to be able to share those moments with him in his language.” She looked back up at Anne, a mixture of fatigue and determination in her eyes. "But it's like I'm still learning a whole new world, Anne. It's a lot to take in."

Anne’s expression softened even more. “Learning a language is like learning a new way to see the world. And you’re doing it for the right reasons. Max will notice that. Even if you don’t think you’re where you want to be yet, he’s going to appreciate your effort, your commitment to him and to his language. And you’re already showing him that you care in ways most people wouldn’t.”

Y/N gave a faint smile, feeling the weight of Anne’s words settle into her. She took another deep breath, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “I hope so. I’m doing this for him, and... for me, too. It’s just hard to see the progress sometimes when you’re so deep in it.”

“Well, keep at it, Y/N,” Anne encouraged again, her voice gentle but firm. “The progress is there, even when you can’t see it. And remember, when Max comes back, you’ll have a whole new way of connecting. That’s something special. Now, how about we wrap up for today, and next time, we focus on a few of those tricky sounds you’ve been stumbling over?”

Y/N nodded, the exhaustion beginning to fade as she felt a renewed sense of determination wash over her. "Yeah, let’s do that. Thanks, Anne. Really."

Anne smiled warmly, her tone softening. “Good night, Y/N. You’re doing great. Keep going, and keep believing in yourself.”

With that, the call ended, leaving Y/N in the quiet of her room. As the screen went dark, she sat still for a moment, letting Anne’s words settle into her. She still had a long way to go with Dutch, but now, she felt a little less weighed down by it all. She stood up from the desk, stretched, and with a deep breath, made her way to the kitchen. There was more to learn, yes, but she could do it. For Max. And for herself

This had become her routine for the past few weeks—immersing herself in a new language while navigating the emotional ups and downs of Max's racing career. Each night flowed into the next, filled with lessons and the hope that her efforts would spark joy in him when he returned. In a way, she couldn’t help but feel that this small adventure might not only help her connect with him in a deeper way but also serve as a reminder that even in tough times, he had someone in his corner—someone ready to support him and learn alongside him.

Time passed, and soon enough, the hectic three-race weekend was behind them.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure when Max would be home. The unpredictable nature of his F1 schedule made it hard to keep track of his exact arrival time. As the hours stretched on, she decided to make the most of the quiet afternoon. She started by tidying up the house, picking up scattered race memorabilia and smoothing out the couch cushions, which always seemed to get tossed around after a long weekend of travel. The kitchen was next—dishes stacked in the sink, a few crumbs left from breakfast, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. She cleaned with a kind of absent-minded rhythm, her thoughts drifting between the tasks at hand and the excitement of his return.

Not wanting to spend the whole day indoors, Y/N grabbed her coat, slipped into her shoes, and decided to run a few errands to break the monotony. She mentally made a list of things she needed—a trip to the grocery store for fresh produce, perhaps a quick stop at the florist to pick up some flowers for the dining table. The gentle hum of the city as she walked outside felt like a welcome distraction. As she moved through the familiar streets, her mind kept drifting to Max—imagining his arrival later that evening and wondering how he would feel after the intense race weekend. With a small smile, she pushed the thought aside. There were errands to run, and time had a way of slipping by faster when you were busy.

After a while, Y/N decided it was time to head back home, the errands and quiet city stroll leaving her feeling a bit more tired than usual. The exhaustion crept up slowly, settling into her bones in the best way—a peaceful kind of tiredness that made the thought of being home all the more appealing. Once she stepped inside, she kicked off her shoes by the door and shrugged off her jacket, instantly feeling the comfort of her own space wrap around her.

She sank onto the couch, letting the weight of the day melt away, but it wasn’t long before she found herself wanting to do something—something simple and familiar to bring a sense of warmth and routine to the day. The kitchen seemed like the perfect place. She stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the space a comforting contrast to the quiet of the house. Her mind immediately wandered to dessert—something sweet to fill the silence. Pulling out her phone, she swiped through a few recipe sites, curiosity leading her fingers. After a moment, she typed "Dutch desserts" into the search bar. Her eyes quickly landed on appeltaart, the iconic Dutch apple pie. The thought of the rich, spiced apples wrapped in buttery crust made her stomach rumble. It was exactly what the moment called for.

With a smile, she set the phone down and rolled up her sleeves. The comforting hum of her favorite playlist began to fill the room, chasing away the silence and replacing it with familiar tunes. As the music flowed through the speakers, she started pulling ingredients from the pantry—flour, sugar, butter, and cinnamon. She paused for a moment, letting the soft beat of the song take over as she laid everything out on the counter. The scent of cinnamon already began to stir a feeling of warmth and anticipation.

With a deep breath, she moved into the rhythm of the recipe, the steady motion of measuring, mixing, and prepping grounding her. She could already picture the golden crust and warm, sweet filling that would soon fill the kitchen, and her heart swelled with a sense of simple joy.

As she hummed softly to the tune playing in the background, completely engrossed in the rhythm of her mixing and the warmth of the kitchen, she remained oblivious to Max stepping through the front door, his footsteps barely audible on the hardwood floor. Max paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before he crept quietly toward the kitchen, careful not to make a sound. He peeked around the corner, his gaze falling on you as you worked your magic, your movements fluid and focused. A smile tugged at his lips as the sweet scent of apple pie hit him, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the warm, comforting aroma that filled the air.

Max moved silently behind her, his steps light as he closed the distance between them. With a smile, he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, savoring the warmth of her presence, before pressing a tender kiss to her soft skin. As he inhaled the sweet scent of the kitchen, his lips brushed her shoulder, and he murmured in a low, appreciative voice, "Smells amazing."

The unexpected touch causes her to flinch, a small gasp escaping her as she instinctively tenses, but her body quickly relaxes when she turns to find Max standing there. A soft smile tugs at her lips as she meets his gaze. "I didn't hear you come in," she murmurs, her voice gentle and warm as she leans slightly into his embrace, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. She glances toward the counter, her hands still lightly dusted with flour, and then looks back at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and pride. "I made apple—" Her words falter for a brief moment, and she pauses, taking a breath before finishing with a playful smile, "Ik heb appeltaart gemaakt." (i made apple pie) She lets the Dutch phrase roll off her tongue with a touch of pride, her eyes lighting up as she anticipates his reaction to the homemade treat and at the sudden Dutch.

Max chuckles, the sound warm and teasing. "Oh, dus je spreekt nu Nederlands?" (Oh, so you speak Dutch now?) His eyes narrow playfully as he takes her in, studying her with a hint of disbelief, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. It takes a moment for her to process his words, the surprise registering on her face before a grin tugs at her lips. She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as she meets his gaze. “Leren voor jou,” she responds with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, her voice light and teasing as she repeats the phrase—"Learning for you."

Max hums contentedly into her skin, his voice soft but filled with affection. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" His words are a gentle murmur, as though he's savoring the moment. She chuckles, the sound warm and light, as she wipes her hands on a nearby towel. Without missing a beat, she spins around, her eyes sparkling, and wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace. "I've missed you," she whispers into his chest, her voice filled with sincerity, as if the distance between them had only made her feelings stronger.

He gently pulls away, his hands lingering at her waist as he looks down at her, his eyes soft with affection. There’s a quiet warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that makes his heart swell with emotion. "I've missed you too," he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, the words wrapped in a quiet vulnerability. He smiles, a soft, almost teasing glint in his eyes as he adds, "Mijntje," (my little one), his tone filled with both love and playfulness. With a tender sigh, he leans down, his face drawing closer to hers. As he lowers himself, he brushes his lips gently against hers, the kiss soft and lingering, a promise of everything he feels for her in that quiet, intimate moment.

She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, her breath catching in the space between them. Her heart races, each beat carrying the weight of everything she feels for him. Her hands rest gently on his chest as she searches his gaze, finding warmth, safety, and a quiet promise there. With a soft sigh, she leans in just a little closer, her lips barely brushing his as she whispers, her voice trembling with sincerity, "Ik hou van jou."

The words, though soft, are heavy with all the emotions she can't quite put into words—years of trust, laughter, passion, and quiet moments, all wrapped in those simple yet profound syllables. His breath hitches, and a smile plays on his lips as he leans in, closing the small space between them with a kiss that feels like both a promise and a beginning. There’s a warmth radiating between them, an unspoken yearning that lingers in the air, electrifying yet restrained. The kiss deepens, lingering just a moment longer, igniting a flutter of anticipation in her chest—a taste of what could be. As they pull away, their eyes lock, and in that shared gaze lies a world of possibilities, a silent acknowledgment of the passion that awaits them.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

tag list : @heluvsjappie

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv1 x y/n #jzprncess

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remuslupinslittleslut · 1 year ago

Text

No, like this

Anon asked: I need more of the teach me dynamic like that was so hot. The way Remus helped Sirius ate you out using his hair holy fuck that was hot. maybe it’s like Remus gets jealous cause it’s close to the full moon so he shows the boys how to properly fuck a girl and it’s super rough maybe and then James and Sirius are just there jerking off like super turned on by the scene cause wow Remus is really good at making reader be loud.

And YES! I love this dynamic and this ask was so very lovely and gave me so much inspiration THANK YOU BABE <333

Here's a very jelly remus, pre full moon, showing his friends how to fuck his girl hot damn

Masterlist. (Teach us part one. And part two. Though it can easily be read on it's own, just the same dynamics <3)

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Remus growled.

You were laid out on your back, James on top of you, hips moving against yours at a steady rhythm. It was good, really good. But the full moon was getting closer, and Remus was aggravated, jealous and very territorial of you.

James whined at the harsh words, and you kissed his nose telling him, “You’re doing well darling, keep going.”

He did, though not quite as confidently as before. His head came down to rest in the crook of your neck, and you felt his cheeks were heated from embarrassment. You and Remus had taught both James and Sirius a lot since your first night together, and they’d both made great progress, all the while Remus was perfectly okay with sharing you – as you also did share him with his friends.

James had just started to get it right with each thrust again – making you moan and whine, telling him what a good boy he was being – when Remus interrupted yet again.

“No, move,” he said, standing up and pushing James off of you, making all three of you gasp (Sirius wouldn’t miss this show for anything in the world), “let me show you how to fuck her properly.”

It was, to put it plainly, rude. You would have to talk to Remus about it later, that he can’t act that way with your littles, but he was so sexy, towering above you, hands tugging at his buckle, trying to free himself for you. You knew what was to come would be life changing-ly amazing, and you did not want to get in the way of Moony when he was tearing at the seams of Remus like this.

Remus was finally naked, standing next to the bed, where James still lay, “I said move.” James did, shying away, trudging toward Sirius’ bed.

“Arms above your head, darling,” he said, steadying his body above yours. You did as you were told, knowing not to argue at this moment. “See, you’ve gotta tell a slut what to do, she’s too dumb to think on her own.” This wasn’t really true – though you loved letting go of all your common sense to let Remus take full control, so you did.

He didn’t give any warning before he pushed himself into you, widening your tight little hole, taking your body from you. “Little sluts like this don’t need to be warmed up, she can take it, right love?” You nodded, knowing you hadn’t been given permission to speak.

His hips snapped against yours at a brutal pace, it almost hurt, you knew it would later, but the way the head of him pushed against your walls felt too good. While he was fucking you, he kept narrating the whole thing, “yeah, that’s right, touch your little cocks to my girl, hear that? My girl. You’ve gotta move faster, harder, like this.”

It was so hot, having your life fucked out of you by your boyfriend while your other two partners watched, touching themselves. You could finally show them the Remus you knew, the Remus who could make sure you didn’t walk straight for days – he’d been so nice and soft since you invited James and Sirius, but now he was back, with his back-arching, toe-curling, orgasm-giving sex.

You hadn’t been quiet for a while, and when your orgasm washed over you, the sounds coming from somewhere deep in your throat only got louder. “There you go, see this, this’s how you make a girl come.”

Pulling out of you, Remus kissed you once, deep and hard and dirty, before he flipped you over, pulling on your hips to make your ass stick out. Leaning down over you, he kissed down the back of your neck, biting and pulling at the skin, hard teeth scratching soft skin. “You ready, little one?” He asked, almost softly, and when you nodded your head he pulled back and pushed in, in one sweeping motion. The angle from this position was even better and you felt your eyes roll back as you dropped your head against the pillow, feeling another orgasm come creeping.

Holding himself up with one hand on the headboard, the other kept a tight hold on your hair. “Now this is how you fuck a girl real good, she won’t be able to think straight when I’m done with her, shame you’ll never be this good,” the cockiness could be heard in Remus’ voice as his hips kept pushing against yours, your ass shaking with every thrust. “Go on then, come, all over your hands from watching my girl take my cock, go ahead… You too, princess, go ahead, let go f’me…”

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered some grunting from the other bed, though most of your senses were filled with Remus, the wet sound of him thrusting in and out of you, the smell of him on the pillow, of both of your juices mixing somewhere further down on the bed, the taste of him left on your tongue, the sight of a veiny arm holding him up, the feeling of him all over you, against your back, the hands in your hair, his cock inside you, pulsating and ejaculating, filling you up with white, hot spurts of cum, the feeling of it running out of you, the wet patch on the bed between your legs.

And then… nothing.

When you woke up, it was to a hot, wet rag on your face. “Hi, love,” Remus said, kissing your forehead, hand holding your cheek still. “Welcome back, you went out for a bit, but don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you now, okay baby?”

Smiling, you reached your hands up – not a small feat, considering your arms felt like boiled spaghetti – and took a hold of his face to pull him back down to you, pressing your lips against his.

“And now this is how you perform proper aftercare, don’t ever skip that,” he said, a pointed look directed at his friends, who he was about to treat with some of the same love that you’d received.

Tagged: @remussbitch

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no-phrogs-in-hats · 5 months ago

Note

hii, could you write a fluffy smut where Reader is a virgin (no experience)? Basically Agatha takes Reader’s virginity, but in slow steps to make her comfortable and showing Reader everything. Reader being untouched since forever -Reader is really HORNY-

Step by Step !NSFW!

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Warnings: porn with the tiniest bit of plot??, loss of virginity (R), oral (R receiving), fingering (R and A receiving), soft agatha, explicit consent, hand holding kink if you squint, not beta read we die like the coven

A/N: Hi! I'm so sorry I've been gone, my canon event decided to happen in November instead of October, but I'm getting back into the groove! I was so excited to write this because I've been needing soft smut lately so I hope you enjoy!!

It was agony. No relationship of yours had ever progressed slower–not that you minded. But it was a bit painful.

With Agatha being over 300 years old, she had learned a thing or two about patience. Going through the Road had brought you closer together, and you were now in your sixth month of this relationship. You had held hands, kissed frequently, even moved in with each other, but you hadn’t had sex.

No other relationship you were in had lasted this long. Agatha was so much more different than your last partners: she had more wit than what was good for her, she made you laugh every day, and more importantly, she put your needs before anyone else’s. She consulted you in important decisions and let you be a part of her life. She cared about you deeply–more than anyone had before, and the thought of that made you tear up.

How thankful you were that nothing else had worked out.

After receiving a peck on the lips while making dinner for the both of you, you smiled, “Do you wanna watch a movie tonight?”

“Okay,” Agatha responded, turning her head quickly and raising her eyebrows, “but no more Fifty Shades. I don’t care if it was just so we could make fun of it, that shit was weird.”

You giggled, “I wasn’t gonna suggest Fifty Shades. I’ll let you pick.”

The domesticity after moving in with Agatha was palpable–and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You developed a nightly routine with her: you would make dinner while she cleaned out Señor Scratchy’s cage. The both of you would sit down for dinner while Señor Scratchy ate on the floor beside the table, you’d talk about your days and the new shows you two were watching together, Agatha would usually tell a story or two from her “glory days” as she’d call it, and then the two of you would clean up the kitchen together and retire to the living room with a glass of wine each, finally going to bed around eleven.

But tonight, every minute of your routine pained you. All throughout dinner you wanted to shout at Agatha to take you right there. You were so painfully turned on, you were sure she could tell.

Doing the dishes, you had to hold yourself back from pulling her into a passionate kiss and having her fuck you right there on the counter.

But now, it was nearly nine, and the movie Agatha had picked out wasn’t even halfway over. You were so close to taking matters into your own hands–that was, until Agatha’s touch on your thigh felt anything but innocent.

As her fingers trace a line up and down your thigh, you find it hard to control your breathing. Her fingers continue, getting closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

“Do you like that?” she asks, muttering in your ear.

You take a deep breath, “Yes.”

She hums, chuckling softly and looking back at the television, “Keep watching the movie…”

You obey, despite how hard it is, and continue watching the movie as her fingers don’t leave their position and you become more and more needy.

The movie is over by eleven, and soon, you’re saying goodnight to Señor Scratchy and turning off the lights.

As soon as you get in the bedroom, Agatha’s shirt is off and she’s left in her bra. The sight almost makes you drool and she smirks, “You like what you see?”

“I–ye–Uhh–”

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” she drawls, and steps closer to you.

Her hand is on your chest and she walks you backwards until your knees hit the bed and you collapse onto your back. As she crawls toward you, you sit up and scoot yourself back until you’re in the center of the bed and Agatha is in front of you..

Your hands go around Agatha immediately when she kisses you, pulling her closer. A chill runs through you at the feeling of her chest against you and it amplifies when her hands run under your shirt.

She pulls away from your lips just enough to mutter, “Is it okay if I take this off?”

“Yes,” you whisper, and your shirt is discarded in an instant with your lips back on hers.

Her hands move to your back and her fingers lightly touch the band of your bra. “What about this?”

You nod, “Yes.”

After removing her own bra, the two of you in nothing but your underwear, and the heat between you increases immensely. Your hands run over every inch of each other’s bodies as you kiss passionately.

Agatha pulls away from your lips and looks you deeply in the eyes, holding your face with her hands. You had never seen such an expression on her. Even when sad, she’d keep a hard exterior. But this is new. This is soft and loving. It’s filled with warmth but tinged with concern.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to continue?” she asks softly.

You nod your head, “Yes, Agatha.” She leans in to kiss you again, but you stop her. “Wait. I’ve…never done this. Is it alright–can we go slowly?”

Anxiety courses through you. You’re waiting to hear the familiar words that your past relationships would throw at you.

“Oh…Well, I only wanna be with someone who’s experienced…Sorry.”

“I don’t date virgins, sorry.”

Instead, these words never come.

Agatha smiles softly, “Of course. We can go at whatever pace you want. We’ll go one step at a time.”

“I’d like that,” you mutter, almost having to hold back tears. “Thank you.”

Smiling again, Agatha kisses you and pushes you slowly down onto your back. “I’m going to touch you now,” she says. “Is that okay?”

You look into her eyes and nod.

“I need to hear you say it.” Your cheeks grow warm at the sound of the sternness in her voice. “Yes,” you respond. “That’s okay.”

“Good girl,” she smiles, and kisses you once again.

You can feel your pulse quicken and breathing pick up as her fingers skim over skin–down your chest, brushing over your nipples and over your abdomen, down to your hips.

She sits back and takes a good look at you as she continues to hold your thighs. “You look so good like this…”

You become flustered, hiding your face in your forearms before Agatha leans down and pulls them away. “Oh, don’t hide yourself from me, darling,” she smiles. “You have nothing to be worried about.” She sets your arms down gently, “Take a few breaths for me…that’s it. Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head no quickly, “No! Please, don’t stop.”

“Okay,” she whispers, kissing you deeply and then making her way down your body. “It’s okay if you don’t finish quickly–or at all. It’s just about feeling good. Okay?”

You nod and she kisses your hips and licks up your thighs, and delights in the way goosebumps form over your skin. Her fingers pull aside the gusset of your underwear and run up your slit, circling your clit.

When you moan, Agatha hums, placing a kiss on your thigh. “That’s it,” she coos. “Let it out. Tell me how good it feels.”

When her sentence ends, it’s only seconds before you feel her tongue on you now. You let out a long moan as she continues, drawing short, languid lines with tongue.

“More,” you pant. “More, please, Agatha.”

She looks up at you, “I’m going to use my fingers next, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, and gasp at the feeling of her fingers tracing your entrance as her tongue continues. “Oh, my god, Agatha…”

When her two fingers slide in and curl, your back arches and you grab her free hand. You relish in the way her fingers interlock with yours and it makes the pleasure all the more enjoyable as you start grinding your hips into her tongue.

Your hand clasps over your mouth as a whimper turns into a particularly loud moan, “God, Agatha–oh, fuck!’

“Do you want me to go faster?” she asks, not removing her fingers. You don’t respond until she curls her fingers again, “Answer me.”

“Yes!” you moan. “Yes! Please, go faster!” As she quickens her pace, your body feels like it’s on fire. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Yes! Don’t stop!” Your back arches and you gasp when Agatha sucks hard, moaning loudly. “I’m–oh, god–please, Agatha! I’m gonna cum! Don’t stop!”

Agatha hums against you and tightens her hold on your hand, “Keep going, baby. You can do it…cum for me.”

She seems to enjoy the view a whole lot more as you shake and moan beneath her. “Good girl,” she says as she crawls back up to hover over you. With her fingers still slowly working inside you, her hand lets go of yours and takes your chin. “That was a lot for your first time,” she says quietly, and kisses you. “But you did so well for me.”

You smile into the second kiss and hum as you taste yourself, taking pleasure in how Agatha’s fingers still haven’t moved from their original position inside you. “I love you,” you whisper against her lips before taking your own hand and sliding it down Agatha’s body. You find the edge of her underwear and move your hand beneath them. “Is this okay?”

Her lips brush yours and she huffs as your fingers gather her arousal and circle her clit, “Yes, just like that. Keep going, baby.”

When her lips clash with yours again, her own fingers inside you start again. You’re both breathing heavily into each other's mouths and your foreheads press into each other as Agatha begins to rock her hips on your fingers. Your second orgasm didn’t take long to hit and Agatha’s first didn’t take long either–neither did your third or her second.

The entire situation was so erotic, you could barely handle it. You had read books, watched movies and TV, even watched porn a few times. But nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to Agatha’s delicate touch and passionate kisses–the sounds she makes when she finishes and the praise she gives you as come undone beneath her. You had only ever dreamed of someone like her.

Agatha lays on her back with her arm around your shoulders, the comforter and bedsheets askew in a wild mess around you. You’re both breathing heavily and you place little pecks on her hand and wrist.

“Are you–are you sure that was your first time?” Agatha huffs tiredly.

You giggle and bury your face in her neck. As you kiss the exposed skin softly, you say, “That impressed, huh?”

“Quite,” she answers.

Moments of silence and kissing go by before you lift your head and look Agatha in the eyes. “So, do you wanna go again?”

Agatha laughs and kisses you, “You are completely insatiable!”

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness smut #kathryn hahn

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