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fangirl-dot-com · 11 months ago

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Across Every Universe

Well, this got away from me and then BAM - over 9k words. Uh, I will also be willing to pay for therapy if needed, oopsies. Anyway, please enjoy! I cried multiple times while writing this. All of my favorite things in life are rolled into this one fic.

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! love you all <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN! - 14 SPOTS LEFT (please send me a direct message to be added)

Earth 199999

“Mr. Verstappen?”

Max look up from the suit that he was currently working on. His eyes were blocked by his newest technological glasses that kept information in his fingertips.

He wanted to roll his eyes. This new assistant really didn’t get the memo of Do Not Disturb. Man, did he wish Kelly were still here. Yet, there was that unspoken rule of not dating your boss, so Max was happier with her being his girlfriend rather than assistant.

“Yes?” he muttered back, looking back down at the prototype reactor that should be 15% more powerful than the one he has now.

“Mr. Leclerc is here to see you.”

Max sighed as he threw the screwdriver down. “I told Charles that I was to not be disturbed.”

The assistant shrank back but continued on, much to his annoyance. “He said it was urgent. Something about Case 89?”

That got Max’s attention right away. He abruptly stood up, knocking down a few things on his desk as he rushed past his assistant.

“Cancel the rest of my meetings today.”

“But sir, you have a call with the president and a public appearance…”

Max twirled around. “I said, cancel everything.”

A large gulp sounded as he stared down at the incompetent helper. Maybe he could convince Kelly to come back.

“Yes sir.”

With that, Max stalked down the hallway to the elevator. Once inside, he pressed the button for the top floor. He checked his watch, making sure the technology was there. Specifically, the watch could change into a powered glove if he needed it. And he sure hoped he wouldn’t. The elevator sounded when he finally reached the floor.

He was barely out of the small box when three pairs of eyes were on him.

“Took you long enough,” a Monegasque accent sounded.

With a roll of his eyes, Max rebutted, “My assistant doesn’t get the meaning of my orders.”

A squawk of a laugh came from the corner.

“You think that’s funny Lando?” Max quipped as he turned to his right.

A curly hair Brit sat on a table, feet put together like he was stretching his inner thighs.

“Everything is funny Max when you don’t have a stick up your ass,” Lando responded as he slid off the table.

“This is not the time for laughs and games gentlemen,” another British accent sounded.

Charles finally spoke again. “I apologize Director Horner.” He shot a stare at Lando. “It won’t happen again.”

While this was happening, Max had taken a step to his computer. His fingers danced over the keyboard and brought up surveillance footage from downstairs. His eyes flickered up to look at his two “companions” and, well, his boss per say.

The Monegasque was in his “get up” as Max called it. The multiple layers of ancient looking clothes disguised his figure. His red cape floated behind him and a green jewel seemed to glow behind its eye-like holder around his neck.

Lando was dressed a skin tight red and blue suit. A web-like pattern covered its entirety and a spider lay resting on his chest. The face piece was tossed on the couch behind the table where he previously sat. His fingers twitched and flexed with lack of motion.

Director Horner was draped in his regular black trench coat. Black shoes, black shirt, and black pants accompanied the fashion piece. His hair was kept and gelled. The most distinct item was a black eye-patch that covered his right eye. No one knew how he got it, but the three claw marks that started at his eyebrow gave Max a few hints. There was that old encrypted file that mentioned something about a flerken.

“So what are we working with?” Max questioned as the correct surveillance footage came up. On the screen was a clear box, with what looked like a person sitting in the farthest corner. Long hair covered their face as it was tucked into their knees.

Charles did a motion with his arms. Golden strands danced around and flickered before they disappeared. Horner sighed and rubbed his brows as Charles let out a nervous chuckle.

Lando rolled his eyes before clicking something on his wrist. A pull up hologram flashed from his specialized watch.

There was a picture of a young girl and a list of lettering to the left of it.

Max crossed his arms, eyes hard and cold. Charles let out a little gasp as he quickly gazed the list.

Horner kept quiet.

Lando began to read off of the floating screen. “Her name is Y/n L/n. Twenty-two years old. An orphan. Lived in Brooklyn all her life.”

Max waved his hand in frustration. “We know this. I want to know why she flagged our radars and is currently in the most powerful containment cell we own.”

If he had a desk with papers all over in front of him, the papers would be on the floor in one clean swipe.

Lando sucked in a breath. “She killed 12 people in a freak accident.”

A video started to play.

The girl was surrounded by mass destruction. Smoke and fire filled the air. Bodies littered the floor. Yet, Max’s attention was on the black tendrils coming out of her back. They were a fluid type, moving around through the air like a fish in water. The girl seemed distressed as her hands were trying to stop the things coming out of her back.

The tendrils suddenly stopped and disappeared back from where they came from her back. The girl stopped, looked around, and looked right at the security cameras. A moment later, one large black tendril flew from her hand and cut the video.

Lando sighed when he put the hologram down. “She was found two days later, unconscious. The tendrils came out when the police found her. They seemed like they were trying to protect her. That’s when they called in Charles and I.”

“They were difficult to deal with, but seemed responsive to another protection spell that I was able to use to transport her,” Charles concluded.

Director Horner questioned, “Why was Norris called as well?”

Lando decided to answer for himself, “Well it is my jurisdiction and I’ve dealt with something like this before. Remember Eddie Brock. This symbiote seems to be of familiar decent.”

While the three others kept talk, Max continued to watch the scared girl. At this point a tendril had appeared and was almost trying to comfort you.

“I’m going to go talk to her.”

That shut the three up.

Charles looked at him with a weird gaze. “You don’t know what she can do.”

Max pointed at the screen.

“She’s a little girl who is probably scared to death of who we are and what we might do to her. She’s probably thinking that she’s going to die in the next few days.”

“I’ll go with. I’ve seen this before. I lost my friend because of this thing. I won’t let it take another life,” Lando confessed. A hard look on his face.

“Then it’s settled. Lando lets go.” Max turned to leave, Lando hot on his tail. Charles and Director Horner stayed behind and continued to look at the file.

The elevator took Max and Lando down to the locked floor. Max clicked a few buttons on his watch and used his fingers to wrap the glove around it. The whir of the machine sounded as it warmed up.

“I will give a signal if I think the subject will engage. I need you up in the sky.” Max stepped out of the metal box.

Lando nodded. “On it.”

When the two got to the door, Max swiped a card. The door opened and Lando started to climb the walls. Once at a significant height, Lando stopped and hung on with one foot and one hand. His other hand was ready to shoot a web to swing in.

Max slowly walked over.

In the time that Max and Lando had taken to get down there, the tendril had disappeared. But to Max’s surprise, the girl was looking right at him. Without any fear, Max opened the door, stepped over, closed it, and sat down on the opposite side of her.

“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered, visibly shaking.

Max was taken back.

“Excuse me?”

You looked him dead in the eyes.

“When do you plan to kill me?”

Max looked with sad eyes. What had you gone through for that to be the first question to run through your mind? He shook his head.

“I’m not going to kill you. No one is going to kill you. We have an offer for you actually.”

It was now time for you to look confused.

“There was an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people to see if they could become something more.”

You inhaled. “To see if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight battles that we could never.”

Max smirked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’ve heard the speech on the news.”

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

“Welcome to the team kid.”

From a small window above, the sunset cast a small sliver of orange light into the room. It illuminated the small space between you and Max, almost acting as a bridge from the past to the new present.

Earth 2113

A grunt left Max’s lips as he threw another knife at the tree. He had been in this cove for a few hours. The stream provided him with much needed fresh water. He was able to take a mock shower, but it only reminded him of the sweet lake that he had back home.

Home.

It felt like a foreign concept.

Weeks had passed since he had last been there. It was supposed to be his last year until he aged out. But really, the odds were never in his favor.

His name was in there 68 times.

Year before, his name had been in there even more times. Not once was his name chosen. But, this year it had been.

How he wished to return back to his own trees, and use an ax instead of the knife he was currently twirling.

A snap of a branch had him shoot up, knife raised ready to throw. His eyes darted around his utopia that might soon become bathed in blood.

As he turned to his right, his eyes met big round ones.

Your small frame was frozen in fear. The rushing sound of water had mocked you long enough. You were so thirsty.

Max watched as you glanced at the river and then back to him. His tense shoulders relaxed once he realized what you were here for.

He slowly brought the knife down, as to not scare you.

“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You did not seem convinced, but you seemed less scared.

“Go on.”

That seemed to do the trick as you darted over and started to fill a water bottle first.

Smart, Max thought.

He had seen you a couple times during training. The twelve year old from District 11. Small, witty, scared. Your eyes always seemed to be filled with tears during training. However, you seemed determined for someone who probably knew that they wouldn’t win the games.

“Thank you,” you whispered after you had gotten your fill of the water. In your outstretched hand was an apple. “Got it from the big pile.”

Max stared at it. His stomach said yes, but his head said no. The rational side said it probably wasn’t poisoned, but the back of his mind tried to convince him that it was.

“I have another one. I can eat it first?”

Max nodded at the offer and you took a bite. He waited for a few minutes, waiting for you to keel over. Except it never happened. You ate the entire apple happily. Max liked to wonder if you might have enjoyed an apple in school before all this. Maybe your hair would be put in two pigtails, done by your mother with a kiss on the forehead.

He finally took the apple and his stomach and brain were both happy.

This seemed to be their little thing that happened in the next few days.

Max would wait by the river just before the sun started to set. And you would somehow show up with two shiny apples.

He thinks at this point they might be from sponsors. He had one main sponsor, a man named Christian, who kept supplying him with different small knives and a few things here and there. The two of you would fill your water bottles and eat the apples.

He had gotten you to giggle a couple of times, which lifted his spirits. You taught him which plants were edible, and he taught you how to properly throw a knife. He had given you one of his for safe keeping. But he really hoped that you’d use it if you the time came. Blood on your hands would kill his soul. Yet, he’d rather keep you alive then have you die.

One night, you had fallen asleep on his chest while the two of you watched the late night slide show of who died that day.

Apparently, there were four left including you and him. Your small puffs of air hit his face as he finally closed his eyes. He thought it was funny how you fit perfectly in his arms. His mind wandered to his girl back home in District 8. He wondered if he’d ever have a kid like you that would fit between him and her.

The sound of a boom woke Max up. His arms curled protectively around air. When he noticed, he shot up. Taking no time, he grabbed his bag and knife that was attached to a long stick.

“Kid?” he yelled out, voice straining.

“Kid?” Another shout as he ran.

“Kid?” Shouting, Max jumped over tree stumps and through brush.

He stopped.

“Kid?”

A whisper.

You stood with your back to him. His eyes glanced to what lie in front of you.

A body was faced down. Max sighed in relief. That cannon was not for you.

“Kid, don’t ever do that…again.”

You had finally turned around at the familiar and safe voice.

Max’s heart plummeted at the sight of tears in your eyes, red patch that was slowly growing on your t-shirt, and bloody hands. His backpack and stick dropped to the ground.

A ring vibrated through his ears as he rushed to catch you before you fell to the ground.

“Kid?” Max asked as you looked up at him. Your small hand reached up and touched his face, leaving a bloody trail on his cheek.

“I did it just like you showed me Maxie. Now you can win.”

Max smiled, with tears streaming down his face. The some that fell on you were wiped with his trembling fingers.

“Of course you did.”

Your big eyes stared up at him. “Are you proud of me?”

Such a big question for such a small girl.

“Always,” he whispered back.

“Can you tell me that story? About the big lion and little lion? One more time?”

He let out a wobbly breath.

“Once upon a time, there was a big lion that lived in a forest. He had about 19 other lions, but he was really a loner. The other lions weren’t good friends with the big lion. He felt like he was miles away and no one could touch him.”

He noticed your eyes start to slowly glaze over and he tried to keep going.

“The lion was very lonely and sad, but one day, the world decided to give him a friend: a little lion.”

The cannon boom stopped his story in its tracks. His arms curled around you as he wailed. He wailed and wailed, not caring who could see him.

After a few moments, he gulped down his cries.

“And the lion was finally happy with the cub. He didn’t need any other friends. As long as he had the little one, he’d be ok. And the big lion and little lion left toward the sunset and were friends forever.”

He leaned down to give your little head a farewell kiss.

A few hours later, Max was declared the victor of the 89th Annual Hunger Games. As the helicopter that carried him flew toward the sunset, Max let tears drip down his face freely. He knew his little lion was finally safe.

Always walking toward the sunset, waiting for the big lion to join.

Earth 2230

“Ah Master Charles, glad you could make it,” Lando said snarkily as he sat in his seat.

“Sorry, my padawan had many questions and kept me in the library for too long,” the man confessed as he took his seat next to Lando’s.

“Oscar is the same way. What is with these trainees wanting to spend hours and hours in the library?” Lando’s head was leaned back in mock annoyance.

Master Carlos, who sat across from the curly-haired man smirked. “You were like that once when you were my padawan Lando.”

A scoff escaped Lando’s lips. He turned back to Charles.

“How is Arthur handling everything?”

Charles smirked. “He cried when we had to cut his hair.”

“Well, he will get used to it,” a new voice piped up. The man had curly hair, like Lando’s, but a big gummy smile was plastered on his face.

“Daniel, you don’t understand. He was inconsolable.” Charles’s hands raised in frustration.

“Does anyone know why we were summoned? And where is Max and Master Horner?”

The doors slid open and two figures walked in.

“We’re sorry for out tardiness Master Alonso. We had some trouble in the elevators.” Christian sent Max a knowing look that was returned with an eye roll. Max huffed as he sat down in his chair next to Charles.

Once seated, Christian began to talk.

“Well, I guess you’re wondering why we were all summoned here today.”

A snort came from Lando, who quickly shut up after he received a glare from Carlos. He sank back into his chair.

Christian continued. “Master Vettel and Master Räikkönen think they’ve found the chosen.”

Murmurs began to spread around the room. Annoyed with the added noise, Max was the one who spoke up.

“Silence.”

The room quieted.

Daniel was the one to lean forward. “How do they think they’ve found the chosen? It’s just a prophecy that has been collecting dust for centuries.”

Christian rubbed his face. “All they said was that they felt a disturbance in the force when they visited Naboo for their diplomatic mission. They went to investigate and the force grew stronger the closer they got to the capital center.”

A hologram erupted from the middle. It was a map of the center with an undergrown view as well. A red beacon signaled from deep down. Max’s finger pointed at it.

“Underneath they found an illegal human trafficking ring that dealt with children with force sensitivity. When they got there, most of leaders had been knocked unconscious. In the middle was a girl. They said the force just pulsated off her being.”

Christian picked up from there. “They’re bringing her in in just a few moments. She’s been debriefed about everything and is willing to join the cause.”

Lando looked intrigued. “Who’s going to be her master.”

Max leaned back in his chair. “I am.”

A scoff echoed, but it wasn’t from Lando this time. It was from Master Hamilton. Max tilted his head and cast his gaze on the older Master.

“Have something to say Lewis?”

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t someone more,” he paused, “advanced in their Master roll be given the chosen as their padawan?”

Charles spoke up. “Like you?”

“Yes,” came the answer from the man.

Carlos spoke, “But you just brought on your own padawan. I don’t think poor George would be too keen on losing a Master so close to his choosing.”

“But you shouldn’t give the chosen over to another child.”

Max stood up in anger. “I’ve been through the trials. I am as much of a Master as you are.”

“Enough,” a new voice roared as the doors to the room opened.

They all stood up and sightly bowed their heads.

“Master Vettel. Master Räikkönen.”

Behind the two stood a teenage girl. Robes already adorned her body. Her hair was tied in traditional high braids, and a smaller, thinner one draped over her shoulder, showing her status.

Kimi took his seat in one of the center chairs, but Sebastian stood in the middle with the girl.

“As you all have probably been briefed by Master Horner, this is Y/n.”

You took a step forward and kneeled before the council. Sebastian took a step around you and sat in his seat.

“You may rise.”

You did as you were told and took a minute to briefly glance at the council of masters. Each one of them winced at the force energy that seemed to just radiate off of you. Well, all of them except one. Your eyes met his electric blue ones. He sent you a comforting smile, which you didn’t have time to send one back before Sebastian spoke.

“State your name for the council.”

You inhaled shakily. “My name is Y/n L/n, from Coruscant.”

Charles leaned towards you, elbows on his knees. “But you were brought here from Naboo.”

You winced at the mention of the name. The masters could feel your distress and Max wanted nothing more than to elbow Charles for that insensitive question.

“I was taken, Master, from my home planet and enslaved for the past three years.”

Charles grimaced at your answer and leaned back, staying silent for the rest of the meeting.

Kimi sent you a small smile before he cleared his throat. “We have brought you here to begin your padawan training.”

That must have comforted you since the force wasn’t buzzing as much around you. The masters were now at ease.

Max wanted to talk, since he was going to be your new master, but he was interrupted by what he thought was a grating voice.

“So, are you the chosen one?” Lewis questioned, eyes slitted as he looked at you.

Your ease was now slowly vanishing as you were under the scrutiny of the master. Your gulp was heard through the room. Lando felt bad as he once had been under the same gaze when he was a Padawan. He tried to send you comforting signals through the force.

“I don’t know for sure if I’m the chosen. I’m just thankful to be alive at this point Master. And I don’t enjoy being picked apart before I even know what I am to begin with.” Your voice had risen in annoyance. “Sir.”

Max smirked. He didn’t need to look around, he knew the others were also smirking or trying not to laugh.

Sebastian spoke next. “Y/n, we would like you to pick your master.”

Max wanted to jump and shout that you were already supposed to be his padawan, but Christian’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Your tired eyes looked around the room.

The master with the thick dark hair and tanned skin looked promising, but you could feel that he already had a want for another padawan. He gave off the same energy as the boy with similar hair that you had passed on your way here. His friends called him Rafael.

Across from him, curly hair caught your attention. But you also felt that he already had what he was looking for.

Same as the man with the short goatee and green eyes. You felt a familial energy reach out to someone, probably a brother close by. You wouldn’t want to separate them.

The other curly-haired man showed you a smile that rivaled the sun. Once again, his force energy was already attached, but it seemed he had two. Not rare, but it was weird to feel the force branch like that.

You had already asked Master Vettel and Räikkönen if you could be there padawan, but they had declined.

The dark man in the corner was giving you mixed signals that gave you a headache. His energy was split. The one that was attached was waning at you looked at him, almost as if he was trying to break it. At that moment you decided not to choose him. Because if he wasn’t 100 percent sure with his chosen, how could he be sure with you.

Your gaze finally landed on the blue eyed man that had sent you a smile. His force energy felt like it was vibrating at the same frequency as yours. Which helped it melt into a smooth rhythm.

When it had stilled, you heart, mind, and force had chosen.

Max felt it the moment your signature became still for the first time since you stepped foot into the room.

The other masters, except one, smiled at you. They all stood and left one by one until it was just you and your chosen in the room.

He stood up and walked toward you.

Your head bent in a quick bow. “Master.”

“You can call me Max.”

Your brows furrowed. “Is that allowed?”

Max only smirked. “Who cares. I’m your master now. My rules are your rules.”

You flashed him a smile. “Ok…Max.”

A grin crept onto his face. “You ready to save the galaxy kid?”

With a nod, you two shook hands.

The sunset filled the room as your silhouette became black shapes. Nothing would be better than the orange and pink casts from your home planet as you started your new life as “The Chosen” or better as “Master Verstappen’s Kid.”

Master and Padawan Pairings: Max and Y/n Charles and Arthur Carlos and Rafael (FAD) Lando and Oscar Daniel and Liam with Yuki Lewis and George Not mentioned – Alex and Logan Former Christian and Max Former Toto and Lewis Former Jules and Charles Former Carlos and Lando

Earth 934

1991

Your eyes glanced around the big train as you tried to find an open seat. Your hands clutched your bag as you kept walking further and further toward the back. You sighed in relief as you finally noticed a room with no one in it. You softly opened the door and slid in. Both seats were empty.

Taking a minute to breathe, you stared out at the vast country side that the train passed through. You almost fell asleep, but the sudden open and close of the car door made you jump. Your head turned toward the intruder.

A boy, possibly older than you since he already had his robes, was leaning against the now closed door. He took a deep breath before his blue eyes landed on you.

“Hi,” you said, not wanting the air to be filled with awkward silence. The boy did not reply, but he did go over and sat on the opposite bench of yours. Your folded your arms. He dared to interrupt your quiet and not respond.

You opened your mouth to speak once again, but he beat you to it.

“My name is Max. Sorry for interrupting whatever you had going on.”

Your mouth closed at his confession.

“What do they call you kid?”

“I’m not a kid. I’m twelve years old.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Which makes you a kid. You’re two years younger than I am.”

“That makes you fourteen. And by technicalities, you would be a kid as well.” You huffed, not enjoying the teasing from the older boy.

Max pouted. “Just tell me your name.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes.

“It’s L/n. Y/n L/n.” A smirk crept on your face and Max’s mouth dropped open. He leaned forward, almost as if to tell you a secret.

He whispered. “Do you have, the, you know?”

Your small hand came up and brushed your little bangs away. There, on your forehead was a lightning bolt shaped scar. It wasn’t like a cartoon shape as it had little bolts that stretched out across and down, but stopping at your eyebrow.

“Wow,” Max managed to breathe out. “What house do you reckon you’ll get?”

You shrugged. “Well, my parents died and I was adopted by a muggle couple and they were awful. So I really don’t know what the houses actually stand for.”

Max looked angry for a moment. “Well, that’s bloody terrible for you have to gone through that. I hope that you’ll get into my house.” He pulled on his green and silver tie. “One of my friends, his name is Lando, is also in Slytherin. But then you have my best friend Daniel in Hufflepuff, Charles is in Gryffindor with his brother Arthur. You’d have to watch out for Lewis though in Ravenclaw, he’s a bit extreme.”

You took a moment to absorb all of his words.

“I think I’d like to stay with you or one of your friends.”

The 14-year-old was elated at the statement. “We’ll see what happens.”

1997

Your mind often went back to that conversation years ago. It was maybe the last time you ever felt safe anywhere. Hogwarts was supposed to be your home, yet here it lay destroyed.

That fateful night you had not been chosen to be a part of the Slytherin house, but thankfully you were placed in Gryffindor with Arthur and Charles. They took care of you like a family should have. Max also stayed super close to the three of you. Whether it was going to Honey dukes, playing quidditch, or even making potions in Headmaster Horner’s class, the four of you were together.

Your wand twirled in your hand as you sat on some broken steps. The once beautiful ceiling had giant holes in it that made way for the night sky. Tears streamed down your face as you pondered your next step.

It had gone downhill so quickly.

Lewis, as it turns out, had given your location away to Toto, who had wanted you dead since you were just a baby. He was the one to kill your parents and “bless” you with the mark on your head. The betrayal had sent shivers down everyone’s spine.

Many people had been killed because of you.

Charles and Arthur’s brother Jules had been hit by a stray spell. Their screams and wails were now permanently engraved in your brain.

Max’s girlfriend Kelly, a nice Hufflepuff, had been attacked by a rogue werewolf. She was still alive, but barely.

Your two Ravenclaw friends, Alex and Logan, were found under some rubble, hands clenched together as to share pain before death. You remembered how Oscar, another Ravenclaw who hung out with you and Lando, sobbed into the latter’s shoulder for hours after he found his blond best friend.

Your friends had died to protect you and you had done nothing.

At this thought, your mind was made up.

Toto wanted one thing, and one thing only: for you to die. For the umpteenth time your mind wandered to his ultimatum that he had given you earlier that evening.

“Y/n L/n. I know that you know that you are trapped now with nowhere to go. Come to the forbidden forest tonight and I will cease all fighting on my end. The rest of your friends won’t have to die due to your insubordination and fear. When you come, be prepared to die.”

His snake-like voice had been broadcast through the minds of everyone. Before he had even finished, you took your leave, not wanting to watch as another family wept over a dead brother or sister.

With shaky legs, you stood up and brushed your skirt. Your face showed your determination as you began to walk down the steps. But as your foot hit the actual floor, a body rammed into yours.

“Kid!” A voice from farther away yelled, accompanied by quick footsteps.

A quick glance at the hair that was attached to the body now in your arms let you know it was Arthur. Over the top of his head, you noticed Max and Charles running toward you.

They were quick to also put their arms around you.

Max maneuvered your face so that you were looking him in the eyes.

“Kid, we have to go now before he decides to attack again. Arthur and Charles know a way out. Let’s go.”

He thought that you had agreed as he turned around to leave. Charles followed him, and Arthur tugged on your hand, as if to lead you away.

Yet, you stayed put and Arthur’s hand slipped from yours.

“Y/n?” he asked, looking back with tears in his eyes. You gave him a crooked smile as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over.

You tilted your head in the opposite direction. That’s when it hit the three men. You had already made up your mind.

“No, no, no, no. You can’t,” Max choked out the last word.

“I have to Max. I won’t let another one of our friends die because of me. I can’t risk Daniel leaving you or have Lando taken from Oscar right after Logan.” You looked at the two brothers. “I can’t let you two lose each other. I won’t let that happen to your mom.”

Charles looked at your with sympathy swarming his green eyes. He slowly walked toward you and gave you a hug. While you were in his arms, his lips met your forehead. You knew that was going to be his goodbye.

Arthur was next. He pleaded as he curled his arms around you. “Let me go with you. Let me walk with you. I swear I’ll leave before...before...”

Your hand was slowly placed on his cheek as you shook your head. Another sob escaped his lips and a new tidal wave of tears left his and your eyes. “I can’t risk you. Please, stay with Charles.”

Arthur begrudgingly nodded, but not before placing a light kiss on your lips. A small smile graced your face as you tried to kiss back through the tears. When the two of you parted, he looked down at you, a sad smile now replacing his frown.

“Please try to come back to me.” With that, he turned around and left. Charles gave Max a knowing look before he took after his brother.

It was just you and your oldest friend.

Max came over and put his hands on your shoulders. He didn’t give you a hug, or a long speech, or a kiss on the forehead like he usually did when he had to leave you at the train station before every summer. He just looked at you before his eyes glanced at your wand. You thrust it in his hands.

“Take care of them for me?”

“Always.”

“Tell Lando that he can have whatever is in my house. I know he was looking at my Nimbus RB20 the other day.”

“Always.”

“And Max?”

A hum answered as Max couldn’t find the strength to speak.

“Watch the sunsets for me?”

“Always.”

Finally, you rushed into a hug. Max’s arms couldn’t get any tighter around your form. With one last squeeze, you broke the hug and turned away, not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer. Your walk to the forest was quick, as you wanted this to be over as soon as possible.

There, suddenly in front of you in all his ugly glory, was Toto. Lewis was to his side, looking rather ashen probably with fear. Even though he betrayed you, you tried to send a comforting smile his way.

“Are you ready to die?” The snake-like voice hissed.

“Yes.”

There was a moment between the yell of “Avada-Kadavra” and when the spell hit you. There, you knew peace. Your body hit the forest floor with a thud.

Arthur, who was still back at the castle suddenly inhaled sharply. Charles, scared for his younger brother’s sanity, knelt next to him.

“What is it?”

Max, Lando, Oscar, and Daniel all crowded around the younger boy.

He could only whisper.

“She’s gone.”

There was no time for mourning as someone screamed out in the courtyard. The group of boys rushed out and what they saw made them stop in their tracks. Headmaster Horner, who had been taken a few days ago, now carried your limp body for all to see.

“Y/n L/n is dead!”

“No!” your friend Lily screamed, but was quickly held back by Oscar.

“Silence. Foolish girl,” Toto hissed.

Arthur turned and put his head on Charles’s shoulder and wept, not caring anymore.

“She’s not dead.” Everyone’s heads turned to Max, who had his wand pointed at the dark wizard. “She’s alive,” he gulped, “in all of us. She wouldn’t want us to give up. She’d want us to continue, even when everything seems dark. And I won’t let her die in vain.”

Toto cocked his head. “Well then, you’ll die along with her.” He pointed his wand at the blue eyed boy, except a large explosion knocked him down. Your rolled out of Christian’s arms and ran toward Max, all while shooting a spell at the downed wizard.

The students and teachers all ran in different directions. The battle was back on.

Instead of running away, Max ran to you. He met you halfway and held you at a distance.

“You came back Kid.”

“Always.”

Earth 7521

“When will he get back?”

Logan stopped his machete in the air. You and he had been out in the sun for a couple of hours, trying to carve poles for the new housing system.

“He’ll get back before the sun goes down.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” Your gaze was cast at the big wall with the giant gap in the middle. What went beyond was your guess as you hadn’t been there, and technically you weren’t allowed to go. You’d chosen to be a woodworker, not a runner.

Logan sighed. He had sworn that he’d take care of the new greenie, but this isn’t exactly what he signed up for.

“Max always gets back right at the gate closes. Has done every day since I got here. He comes in with Alex and they’ll go to the map room.” He really tried to ease your conscience. You had all but attached yourself to the boy since you got here. He couldn’t blame you since Max was really the first one that you saw. He was the same with Alex, as was Oscar with Lando and Max with Daniel.

Your brows furrowed. “But Alex just got back and Max isn’t with him.”

Logan dropped his machete and it thumped in the grass. His head jerked over to where you were looking. There, the Thai runner had just crossed the threshold of the giant gate, but the Dutch runner was nowhere to be found.

“Stay here,” he demanded, but really didn’t expect you to obey. Anything that had to do with Max, you would find out one way or another. A large groan came from the giant wall, signaling that it was about to close.

Logan hastened his pace and heard your footsteps try to keep up with him. As he got near, Lewis and Lando both crowded around Alex. The blond picked up on their conversation.

“Where’s Max?” Lando questioned as his eyes kept flickering between the hunched over runner and the wall.

Alex sucked in a breath. “We got separated. A griever was out in the open.”

Multiple gasps came from others as a crowd had formed.

Lewis’s eyes widened. “But grievers don’t come out in daylight.”

Alex had a sullen look. “I know.”

Lando cast another glance at the metal gate that let out another groan and a shake. This time, the doors were slowly closing.

“So we’re just going to leave Max in there?” Lando gestured.

Lewis looked down at the ground and nodded. A silence went over the group as they were now preparing to mourn the loss of one of their family.

Logan’s heart sunk. You must have been devasted. He turned around to where you were supposedly.

“I’m so s-…Y/n?” His head whipped around trying to find you. His heart sunk even further as his eyes finally found you, right in front of the closing doors. “Y/N!”

Now you had everyone’s attention.

“Greenie!” Lewis yelled.

You simply turned your head and looked at the leader. “I got to go save Max.” It was as if you were explaining a simple toy to a toddler, like it was a matter of fact.

“Max is gone Kid. We can’t lose you too,” Lando tried to negotiate and distract you as the doors got closer and closer together.

The doors were so close to closing and Lando thought he was successful. Well, until you bolted and squeezed through the slit. Multiple boys called out for you but it was too late, the doors closed. Logan ran to the metal wall and hit his fist on it multiple times.

On the other side for you, it was silent. An eerie type and not comforting. You tried not to get distracted at the maze-like sequence of walls that stood before you.

Right. You needed to find Max, and fast.

Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you silently ran and didn’t call out Max’s name. It felt like hours before you finally found him. Your eyes watched as his tried to curl up more, to make himself smaller.

“Maxie?” you whispered.

His head shot up, eyes wide as you walked closer to him.

“Kid? What the hell are you doing here?” he whisper yelled back. You took a seat next to him.

“I couldn’t leave you out here alone.”

Max let out a sigh. “Well, now we’ll both be dead by morning.”

You looked down at his bloodied leg. “What happened?”

“Alex and I were mapping like always when a griever jumped out. They’re not supposed to be out in the daylight, but they were. I ran right and Alex went left. I thought I got away but I tripped. I think my ankle is sprained or broken. Couldn’t make it back to camp.”

You absorbed the information before you stood up and took a vine down from the wall. The middle was stiff like a branch and the smaller vines attached to the leaves were bendable. You quickly made work of Max’s ankle and tied the stiff vines to his leg.

“This should give you enough support so we can get back.”

Max looked at you with wide eyes. “You’re good at this. Why didn’t you become a medjack?”

You giggled as you helped him to his feet. “I couldn’t stand the tension between Nico and Lewis anymore and Logan seemed inviting enough.”

That got a little laugh out of Max.

The two of you made your way to the gate where you camped out all night.

“Thank you kid. I’d be dead without you,” Max mentioned when the doors opened the next morning.

“I know. Look Max, the sunrise!”

“Thanks kid. You know they’re my favorite.”

Two years later

Those days in the Glade were much better than what you’d been through in the past two years. From running through the desert and being chased by zombie people to now sneaking into the giant headquarters to find some type of cure.

Your eyes were now on Max as his head swayed back and forth. He didn’t look good as his face was drenched with sweat.

It had been about a week since he told you that he had been infected. You had cried and cried, promising to find a cure. But that promise seemed to be so far away as you were nowhere closer to finding it.

“Hold on Maxie,” you whispered as you tried to keep him upright. His head was now perched on your shoulder as you continuously looked up in the sky, looking for the rescue helicopter. Charles had disappeared once someone told him that his blood was the cure. He had promised to be back quickly, and that was an hour ago.

Max didn’t have much time left.

A thumping in the air caught your attention as you gently placed him back against a wall. Black goup now started to run out of his mouth. You gently wiped it away before placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Here they come Maxie. Just a few minutes more.” You stood up and turned to try to wave the helicopter in your direction. Your smile grew as it now began to get closer and closer.

“Max we’re going to be…ok.” As you now faced Max, confusion and fear glossed over your figure as he now stood a few feet away from you. His body twitched as his head swayed back and forth.

“Max?”

Your voice seemed to snap Max out of whatever trance he was in as he sudden rushed toward you and knocked you down. You thought this was it as Max’s hands harshly roamed and grabbed at your body. His hands stopped as he found your gun.

He was quick to cock it and bring it to his head. Your hands were quicker and you knocked it out of his hands and it slid across the floor. Max growled down at you and jumped to go get it, but your hands yanked him back. You grabbed the gun and pointed it at your friend.

Your heart broke as you looked at his sickly nature. His eyes cleared to that pretty blue that once always covered his eyes with kindness swarming in the storm. But now, he looked at you with a pleading nature.

“Please, Kid. Please,” he begged, but you couldn’t pull the trigger.

The clearness was quickly wiped away as you finally lost your friend. He managed to get up and sling the gun out of your head. Somehow, he had gotten a knife from his pack on his body and he came swinging. The two of you fought for a moment, before Max suddenly went still.

Oh.

Why did he stop?

Max stumbled back and you finally saw.

Oh.

Your lips quivered as you tried to slow his fall to the ground. You gently laid his head on a rock. He wheezed as he looked up at you. The helicopter wind picked up and your hair started to dance around your face.

Max closed his eyes and his chest rose, fell, and froze.

Your scream was silenced by multiple yells and the deafening sound of the chopper that had finally come. Hands grabbed your arms and ripped you away from your friend. You tried to fight and claw your way back, but the team was too strong.

They sat you down in a seat and allowed you to just cry.

Your eyes caught glimpses of orange and yellow out the open door of the flying machine.

Max would have loved the sunrise.

Earth 1217

“Y/n!” The yell of your team principal caught you attention.

“Yeah?” You set down your race notebook and walked down the office hall. Yes, you hated office days, but at Red Bull you wanted to go over everything that involved you. Call it a bit of a prima-donna attitude, but you weren’t a five time champion or Red Bull’s golden girl for nothing.

“I wanted to take you out to the track. The new recruit is doing his testing laps for next season,” the older Brit mentioned as you joined him in walking down the hallway.

You turned your head. “I though Daniel was up for Checo’s seat?”

Christian sighed and looked down as the two of you walked passed the trophy shelves. Most of them were from you.

“Daniel said he didn’t feel comfortable enough to handle our car. Maybe in a few years after he gets back in the groove in the Alpha Tauri, but not now.”

You snorted. “Guessing Charles is as comfortable as ever being the Prince of Mercedes?”

“Ah yes, your childhood friend-slash-rival did ask me to send his kind regards and told you to watch out for any puddles.” Your eyes rolled at the last statement.

“All right, talk to me. Who else did we ask before you texted me that only said ‘I found him’.”

Christian sighed as he backed his car out. The two of you had gotten to the parking lot in no time and were now headed to the track.

“Well, Lando just renewed his contract with Ferrari, same as Oscar. Lewis, well, he never responded and McLaren never got back to us. Most of them aren’t really looking to be second to you.”

“They’re just mad they’ve been dominated by a woman for five years straight and will be for another three. Maybe after that, someone can be number one.”

The car jerked as he parked it. You stepped out, tennis shoe hitting the ground. They really went well with what you normally wore: skinny jeans, a Red Bull Polo, and your number 1 hat.

The roar of the RB18 caught your attention as your eyes watched it zoom by. A bright yellow helmet caught your attention, but it went around the corner too quickly for you to watch.

Once at the mock garage, you met up with Mitch and junior race engineer GP. Apparently the new recruit had wanted to keep his engineer with him through everything. Which you understood as you brought Mitch over with you after your McLaren days.

“So is this Sargeant? His second place in the championship looked promising, but he was a bit slow,” you mentioned as your sunglasses covered eyes looked around. An angry looking man stood in the corner, bit headphones on his ears.

"No. It's not Sargeant. His name is Max Verstappen. He jumped from F3."

Your eyes narrowed at the big angry man who seemed like he wanted to take a fork to a mechanic. You leaned over to Christian. “My abusive-parent radar is going off. I want him out of the garage.”

Christian once again sighed. “I can’t throw our new driver’s father out of the garage on a hunch.”

You took a sip of your Red Bull. “You did it with my parents.”

“Y/n, they hit you in front of me. I had proof. Just wait a bit and we’ll watch him.”

You huffed. “Fine, but he doesn’t come to any debriefs or meetings.”

“Perfect.” He clapped his hands and your attention was now placed back at the newbie’s times. He was driving just a bit slower than you, but they were marginal tenths and hundredths behind.

Mitch, being the senior engineer, clicked a button. “All right Verstappen, bring it back in.”

“Got it. Thank you!”

You hummed. “Polite kid.”

Your RB18 pulled up and a scraggly kid jumped out of the car. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as his dad got off his ass and started to come over. Not wanting anything to happen, you made your way to the boy, cutting him off.

He had just taken his helmet and balaclava off when you reached him. Christian came up and joined you. The boy finally noticed you and looked at you with a gaze of amazement.

“Max right?” you questioned and held out a hand to the Dutch kid.

He nodded, still trying to take in the sight of his role model right in front of him. That’s when he noticed that you were still waiting for him to take your hand. He yanked off a glove and shook your outstretched hand.

“Max Verstappen.”

“How old are you?” You took another sip of your Red Bull and offered Max one as well, who took it quickly.

“I’m nineteen, but I’m turning 20 at the end of September.”

You had a fond smile on your face. You knew what it was like to be thrust into this life at a young age. Hell, Christian took a chance on you when you were just seventeen.

“Who’s your favorite driver?” Mitch questioned, standing behind you. You knew she was teasing the boy as his face got red really quick.

He mumbled, “You.”

You had a shit-eating grin on your face as you look down at the boy. You went to say something else, but he beat you to it. You had a feeling that he might do it more often, but you didn’t mind.

“I, uh, just wanted to say that I’m perfectly fine with being number two driver. I know you’re on a mission to make it to 8 championships. And I’d like to help you do it.”

Your heart may have melted at the confession.

“Well, once I get my 8 championships, let me tell you what. We here at Red Bull like to be record breakers, so I’ll help you make it 9. Sound like a good deal?”

Max’s face lit up at the semi-promise of not just one championship, but nine!

“Sounds good.” A giggle left his lips.

The sun was setting as you were all called for a brief meeting so that Max could sign the contract. Orange and yellows blended in together and bathed the two of you in its glory.

“Ok then, welcome to the team kid!”

Earth 1218 – Present Earth

TikTok had become your addiction when you had spare minutes in your busy life. Videos passed by so quickly, you sometimes didn’t even register what it said. Thankfully though, you managed to not accidentally like anything that could harm your career before it barely got started.

One trend seemed to be very popular at this time. Your fingers would swipe through the photos of various TV and movie characters. The pictures on each slide had the same captions. One being “Do you think we’re together in every universe?” and the other “I sure hope so.”

You’d already asked Arthur and he just rolled his eyes.

“Of course we would be. I think you’re stuck with me wherever you are,” he had told you.

Yet, there was one driver who you really needed to ask. You had already seen versions of this made for multiple driver pairs. The ones of Charles and Max, Oscar and Logan, and Lando and Daniel always made you cry. You couldn’t help it.

But, the ones of you and Max always made your heart happy. You knew that you weren’t the easiest to take care of and you came with baggage. However, Max never made you feel bad about it: he did the opposite. Many times, he made you forget all the bad things in your life by just being there.

You sent him one of the generic ones from someone’s random account.

Little Racer

https.www.tiktok./KID89.192&MAX0133/ Do you think we’re together in every universe?

It took him a few minutes to respond since he was often busier than you were. The season was coming to an end, and his fourth championship was in his grasp.

Big Racer

I’m sure of it kid. Can’t get rid of me that easily.

Little Racer

And you still probably type like a grandpa in every one too! :P

You laughed out loud when three middle finger emojis followed your text. Where you were sitting in the living room of your Monegasque apartment, the sunset caught your eye. You smiled as the rays nearly blinded you, but you were fine. The warmth spread across your cheeks as the rays kissed your face with softness.

You didn’t know what other versions there were of you. You honestly didn’t care. Because as long as you had Max, you’d be just fine.

Across every earth, galaxy, and universe you’d find yourself dreaming of a life you didn’t live, but could only imagine how good everything would be in the end.

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @aeh2 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver

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kaivenom · 7 months ago

Note

I just found your blog looking for Spencer white fics and yours are so good! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something between spider and a gn reader who finds it really attractive when he speaks French (cause that scene did something to me-)

Thank you for feeding the small amount of hbh fics🙏🙏

French cuisine

Summary: you go to Spencer's house and found him cooking, you decide to help him and you discover he can speak french.

Pairing: Spencer "Spider" White x gn!reader

A/N: Sorry that this had taken so long, college is starting the final section before exams an i am going crazy. Words on cursive are the translation from french.

It was an ussual Friday, you were going to Spencer's house, see some movies and eat popcorn. When you entered the house with the keys you borrowed, a french song was playing on the background, that was strange you thought, it must be his mother. Following the song, you found Spencer in the kitchen with an apron full of flour and humming the song.

"Look what we have here, the perfect 50's housewife," you joked while you get to hugh him from behind.

"Bonjour." he asked with a smile.

"Bonjour."

"Comment allez-vous?" you didn't understand anything and that made you question things.

"Wait, don't tell me you know how to speak french?"

"Yeah, i know, but i don't have to do it everytime... it's awful when people ask me: can you say something in french? or things like that."

"But you could have told me, i am your girlfriend." you tightened your grip among his waist and made a pout.

"I don't like to brag about it, but now you know."

"Yeah, right. What you said to me before?"

"How are you?" he turned around and kissed your forehead.

"Good, you?"

"Bon." something on the form he said it, made you blush.

"I suppose that means good."

"Correct." he put a finger with fluor on your nose, painting it white.

"Can you say more to me?" you make puppy eyes and like always, he can't resist.

"Tu es très belle," your heart skipped a heartbeat, you didn't know what he said but hearing him talking in french was exciting you more every secon. "i said you are very beautiful."

"Yeah?" his hands went to your cheeks and kissed you.

"Tu es la meilleure personne du monde." his lips drain your soul with every word and every kiss in between. You are the best person in the world

"Tell me more, please."

"Je t'aime... tes lèvres... ton corps... tes sons." his kisses increased, in speed, in intensity and passion, he was starting to feel very aroused by your reaction. I love you... your lips... your body... your sounds.

"I don't know what you said but i do too." you both laughed inoccently, for a moment unaware from the steamy interaction you both were having.

"Je veux faire du sexe avec toi." a moan almost escaped your mouth, you only understood one word and that was enough.

Then you started to smell burnt but apparently Spider was so concentrated in kissing your lips and neck, that he had forgotten he was cooking and also that he had things on the pans... that now are burning.

"How do you say the kitchen is on fire?"

"La cuisine est en feu." only a second was needed before he understood your words.

You both had to run to turn off the fire and open the windows to vent the kitchen. Nothing was saved from the disaster so you decided to order some french food to honor the ocassion and finish what you both started.

#heartbreak high spider #heartbreak high imagine #heartbreak high x reader #heartbreak high 2022 #hbh s2 #hbh2 #spencer white imagine #spencer spider white x reader #spencer white x reader #spencer spider white #spencer white #spider x reader #spider imagine #spider x you #heartbreak high spider x reader #heartbreak high spider imagine

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shadowtriovibes · 1 year ago

Text

the train ain't even left the station

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "If you're up for it I'd love to see a small lil fic of Sebastian sending his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time! Like maybe Sebastian is telling them about his adventures with Ominis and MC to make the child less nervous or just letting them know how exciting things will be for them :)"

in the same 'verse as "it's a sign of the times" [AO3]

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.” “Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly. A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’” “No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

September 1, 1910

Suspended overhead in the bustling terminal of King’s Cross Station is a massive clock. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of Londoners – both Muggles and wizards alike, though more often the former – pass underneath the clock as they hurry to catch their trains. Many will casually glance up to ensure they’re still on time as they make their way to work, school, or even the lucky few off on holiday.

As it happens, the first day of September brings countless students to the station on their way to boarding schools all over the U.K., meaning the station stays especially crowded well into the late morning. Worried mums and impatient dads all turn their eyes toward that clock, hoping their sprogs won’t be left on the platform on their very first day of school.

Just as the minute hand slides into place at the very bottom of the clock, a handsome young family emerges from a tiny waiting room positioned at the far end of the terminal.

Hundreds of Muggle men in their funny, black suits and odd little bowler hats have already walked right past the waiting room without sparing it a second glance. In fact, had any of them paused to do so, they would have read a small sign affixed to the door that simply read, “Out of Order.”

But inside that waiting room is a grand fireplace. Not just any fireplace, mind you – one that roared brilliantly twenty-four hours a day, never needs stoking, and, perhaps most importantly, spews out bright green flames.

Sebastian Sallow first exits the waiting room with a precarious cart loaded up with trunks, birdcages, and even some broomsticks of all things. If the Muggles passing by thought anything of the man’s rather odd collection of travel items, no one said a word.

He glances up at the clock and grins.

“Ten thirty,” he says confidently over his shoulder. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be late.”

Beside him is his young wife. Their smallest child, a boy just a few months shy of his fifth birthday, is dozing in her arms. Behind them are their oldest children, a pair of twins, chatting excitedly as they follow their parents toward the barricade between platforms nine and ten.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit redundant to Floo all the way down to London just to put the children on a train back to Scotland?” Sebastian mumbles as your family weaves its way through the flowing crowds.

“Perhaps, but all the children love riding the train,” you remind him fondly. “It’s a Hogwarts tradition, especially for the little ones.”

Having never had the chance to take the Hogwarts Express yourself, you find yourself mildly envious of your eldest children, both of whom will soon be taking their very first journey on the school’s scarlet red steamer train.

“Besides,” you add teasingly. “If I recall, you and Anne met Ominis on your first train ride to Hogwarts, correct?”

“Fine, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Sebastian relents with a soft smile. “I rather think this whole journey will have been worth it if the twins happen to make lifelong friends who save their lives several times over.”

“Do we have to?” your son Simon pipes up, sounding wary. “Because I packed a book I wanted to read.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow at you and gives you a look that reads, He is your son through and through.

“Trying to prove you’re a Ravenclaw already, are you?” Sebastian teases him. “Just like your mum, you are.”

“I’m going to be a Slytherin like you, Daddy!” your daughter Anne-Marie chimes in proudly. “Even Auntie Anne said so!”

You and Sebastian exchange a fond, albeit exasperated look. Ever since Anne (and eventually Sebastian) had accepted the life-limiting curse placed upon her by Rookwood, she’d instead focused on honing types of magic that don’t drain her of her energy or cause her any more pain. She’d found comfort in Divination and has grown into a very powerful Seer, though she often uses her gift to rile up your children with premonitions of being spoiled rotten on their birthday or soundly beating the other village children in their broomstick races.

However, predicting that your mischievous little girl will end up in Slytherin is a fairly safe bet, you imagine.

“I won’t be the least bit surprised if that’s true,” Sebastian says warmly. “But just know your mother and I will love you all the same no matter which house you end up in.”

“Even Hufflepuff?” Simon asks nervously. “Ernest from the village says Hufflepuffs are boring.”

“Don’t forget your Auntie Poppy is a Hufflepuff,” you tease him. “She’s anything but boring!”

That seems to cheer Simon up a bit, but your sweet, slightly shy boy falls back beside you as you get closer to the platform barricade.

“Alright, my love?” you ask him softly.

He reaches for your free hand and squirms up tightly against your side. “It’s really big…”

You size up the high brick archway before you. To the naked eye, it appears as solid as rock, and despite Sebastian’s reassurances that it’s perfectly safe to run straight at it, you imagine you’d be intimidated as well if you were only eleven years old.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you reassure him. “Your father and I will come with you to the platform, you won’t have to go through alone.”

He nods wordlessly and you squeeze his hand. Ever her father’s girl, Anne-Marie takes Sebastian’s arm and the two of them push the wobbly luggage cart straight at the archway, and in the blink of an eye, they’ve vanished.

“See?” you murmur to Simon. “Not so scary, is it?”

With your youngest still propped against your hip, you and Simon walk toward the barricade at a slower pace. You glance around to make sure no Muggles are watching as you slip through the magical brick facade, and then in the blink of an eye you’re on a pack platform surrounded by wizarding families and children in bright, colorful robes.

“Over here!” Sebastian calls out, and you see that he’s pulled the cart right up to the train.

“Help each other with your trunks, just like that,” Sebastian says as Simon and Anne-Marie first carry the trunk marked with an “S.S.” aboard the carriage and then return for the other marked with an “A.M.S.”

Then they carry in their owls – both young tawny birds raised from hatchlings, a gift from their Aunt Poppy. Finally, they return for their brooms, which Sebastian knows for a fact they ought not to have as first years, but he hopes he can talk Headmaster Weasley into looking the other way once they arrive with the intent of trying out for their house Quidditch teams.

(Raising your children in a wizarding village had been quite an eye-opening experience for you. Your twins have been on broomsticks since they could walk, and over the years their godfather Ominis has insisted on making sure they always have the latest model – one for each, so they won’t squabble over sharing.)

You pull Anne-Marie in for a tight hug once the children finish unloading their cart.

“You’ve got everything you need?” you ask her, pretending your voice hasn’t gone thick with tears. “I’ve packed you both some sweets for the ride, remember to share with your new friends, and write to us as soon as you get back to your dormitories please–”

“Yes, Mum,” she says, somewhat impatiently. “We promise we will.”

Anne-Marie kisses her littlest brother goodbye on his chubby cheek, fondly brushing back some of those messy brown curls your husband had given him.

“Why don’t you let your father give you a hug goodbye, sweetheart?” you gently prompt her.

You expect you’re the only one who’s noticed that Sebastian’s eyes have gotten a bit wet as he’d watched his children load up their belongings on the train. Even though he’d likely try to deny it if you prodded him, he sincerely looks like he could use a hug.

As soon as Anne-Marie approaches him with her arms out, Sebastian scoops her up against his chest like he’d often done when she was much smaller – only now her legs nearly touch the floor, and soon he’ll only be able to sway her like this with her feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Have a great term, sweetheart,” he tells her softly. “I can’t wait to hear all about it – even the parts that’ll exasperate your mother.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” she says ruefully.

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.”

“Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly.

A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’”

“No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously and decide to leave it be for now, but as soon as you turn away, Sebastian leans down and whispers, “Write to Uncle Ominis and ask him where to find it. It’s a Sallow’s rite of passage.”

“I will,” she says excitedly. “And I’ll bring Simon.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly.

Anne-Marie manages to free Simon from your weepy grasp so that Sebastian can also pull him in for one last hug, reassuring his son he’ll be proud of him no matter which house he eventually calls home. Then the two link arms as they make their way toward the train, climbing up the stairs behind a gaggle of redheaded children (whose surname you could likely guess on the first try).

They settle into a compartment halfway down the carriage. Anne-Marie eagerly presses her face against the glass and makes a silly face at Sebastian, which he delightedly returns. Simon waves goodbye as well and holds up the book he’d packed, showing it off as if to say, “See Mum? We’ll be just fine.”

With your groggy son in your arms and Sebastian’s arm around your shoulders, you watch as the train slowly starts to rumble down the tracks and into the brilliant September sunshine. It’s carrying your children ever closer to your home, and yet further away from you than they’ve ever been.

You hide a few tears against the lapel of Sebastian’s robes; he kindly wipes away the rest with a handkerchief and kisses the redness on your cheeks and nose until you’re smiling once more.

“They’re going to have an incredible year,” he whispers to you. “It’s Hogwarts.”

You simply nod, not trusting yourself to answer without a stray sob slipping out.

Dozens of parents begin to Apparate away from the tracks as soon as the train rounds the corner, but with your youngest, you’ll need to make your way back to the station’s Floo flames to get home safely. This time pushing an empty cart, the three of you slip back through the brick barricade.

“It sure will feel quiet when we get home,” Sebastian says a little sadly.

“We’ve still got the littlest one,” you say softly, cradling your sleeping boy’s cheek as he clings to you through his nap. “He’ll keep us on our toes enough as he gets older.”

“I suppose,” Sebastian sighs, still sounding morose even as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of his fingers down your singleton’s back.

Then he perks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps we could try for a fourth?”

You shoot him a withering glare. “Not on your life, Sebastian Sallow. We’ve just sent the twins off to school, I think that means we should actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.”

(Though when your twins come home for the winter holidays with countless tales of their adventures with new friends and their pockets stuffed full of Zonko’s products, Sebastian gets to be the one to tell them they’ll have a new baby sister the following summer.)

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #anne sallow #ominis gaunt #IT'S AN OFF TO HOGWARTS KIDFIC TADA

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yikesmary · 1 year ago

Text

MARRIAGE — jeon wonwoo x reader

summary: where wonwoo’s nightmare is coming true.

notes: yours and wonwoo’s relationship isn’t the focus in this. but you guys are married and have a daughter together!

I might create a whole series where I write drabbles/one shots of seventeen as fathers. I have some ideas of what to post, however, I’ll accept requests. this one just popped into my head today and I wasn’t able to get it out UNLESS I actually wrote it. enjoy!

“Daddy, when did you know you wanted to marry Mommy?” Yours and Wonwoo’s daughter asked.

Wonwoo stopped at the sound of the question, and turned to her, who was peering up at him curiously. He stopped cutting the apples she asked to make him and kneeled down at her height. “What’s the sudden question for, Love?”

Your daughter shrugged, “I’m just curious,”

“Well, since you’re asking, I knew I wanted to marry Mommy because I love her so much and I didn’t see living my life if it meant I didn’t have her in it,” Wonwoo said.

“Even if you guys become old and wrinkly?” She followed up, her nose scrunching at the thought of her parents being wrinkly.

“Especially if she’s wrinkly, because that means we’ve been loving each other for so long,” he answered, pinching his daughter’s cheek gently.

Your daughter hummed, seeming deep in thought. Her eyes then lit up and announced, “Daddy, I have to tell you something and you can’t get mad,”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrow up at her words but said, “I’ll try not to,”

“I have decided I’m gonna marry Uncle Gyu!” She exclaimed.

Wonwoo swore that right then and there he was going to drop dead in the middle of the kitchen. Who cares about growing old with you if your daughter was going to marry her Uncle Gyu. Maybe life wasn’t worth living at this point. Who cares at this point—

“Daddy? Are you okay?” your daughter asked, pouting in concern.

Wonwoo snapped out of his thinking and cleared his throat. “Why do you think you’re going to marry your Uncle Gyu, sweetheart?”

“I don’t just think I’m going to marry him. I know I’m going to marry him,” she corrected him.

“Well, why do you think that?”

“When I asked you about how you knew you wanted to marry Mommy, it’s like how I feel when I see Uncle Gyu,” she replied.

“You can’t marry your Uncle Gyu,” Wonwoo told her bluntly.

“Why not?” she asked, her eyes squinted and Wonwoo could already feel his defenses going down when he saw that there were little tears emerging from her eyes.

“First off, you still call him Uncle Gyu,” he pointed out.

“That’s because that’s his name,”

“We’re going to teach you about how names work one of these days,” Wonwoo sighed.

The sound of the door opening captured the attention of the father and daughter. “I’m home!” You exclaimed, and Wonwoo felt relief knowing that if anyone were to convince your daughter not to marry Mingyu, it’d be you.

“I’m back from the store and I ran into Mingyu! He’s here to say hi,” you added on.

Nevermind, Wonwoo thought. It seemed like you, Mingyu, and your own daughter, his flesh and blood, were out on a mission in order to send him into cardiac arrest.

Wonwoo saw as your daughter gasped in delight and ran out of the kitchen to meet you and Mingyu. He left the kitchen too, only to see that your daughter was already in Mingyu’s arms.

“What were you guys doing while I was gone?” you questioned.

“We need to talk,” Wonwoo said.

His statement raised eyebrows for both you and Mingyu. Meanwhile, your daughter was in a whole different world whilst in Mingyu’s arms. “Uh, okay, let’s go to the kitchen and Mingyu can entertain—”

“No, Mingyu’s involved too,” Wonwoo cut you off.

Exchanging looks with each other, Mingyu put your daughter on the couch and promised that he was going to play with her when he was done talking to her dad. You went to the kitchen, utterly confused on what was going on.

“You’re a traitor,” was the first thing Wonwoo said to Mingyu.

“What? What’d he do?” You asked.

“I didn’t do anything today!” Mingyu immediately defended.

Wonwoo turned to you, who he considered to be the voice of reasoning. “Guess what our daughter told me,”

“What did she say?”

“She wants to marry—“

“Aww, that’s precious! Is she at the stage where she wants to pretend—“

“She wants to marry her Uncle Gyu.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. None of the parenting books you and Wonwoo read didn’t exactly tell you how to deal with your child if they wanted to marry their dad’s best friend, so you were at a lost for words.

“You made my daughter think she’s wants to marry you! How dare you!” Wonwoo exclaimed to Mingyu, who looked lost at the direction the conversation went.

“Let’s not castrate Mingyu. Our daughter is a child, so she’s going to think she wants to marry anyone she loves, because she doesn’t know the difference between familial and romantic love. Also, it’s not like she knows what marriage means.” You reasoned with him.

Wonwoo relaxed at your words, his slight anger dissipating.

“Now, let’s go and play with her before she thinks her dad killed her soon-to-be-husband,” you joked and quickly left the kitchen.

Wonwoo and Mingyu were left in the kitchen and Wonwoo found himself looking at his best friend. “My daughter wants to marry you,” he told him.

“If I knew how I was making her want to marry me, I’d stop,” Mingyu reassured him.

“At least it wasn’t Soonyoung, I don’t want my daughter thinking she’s a tiger and marrying one,”

taglist (if your name is gray, it means that I was unable to tag you): @belladaises @winterpaos @wonhuiful @minhui896 @baekhyunimochibbh @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @minghaossv @coffeesandrains @slaveofmydreams @bmkgemz @dandycharmer @outrologist @stagefrjghts @dahliatopia @exo-saranghajaaa @uhlatcha @watermelon-sugars-things @mingimingimingi @venzline @kokorit0 @withloveyjh @mikopikotobiko @lockburn-castle @mrs-kamisoto @userjunhuii @mypsychicpizzaworld @againwithwonu @violetvoo @maevadobreva @hyperhanie @soonyoungblr @miesieu @baekhyunstruly @ryusoul @smileyneos @xuenihao @itsrachelsplace @yoonzinoooo @jw-0717 @swinterr @jeonride @wonuumelody

#seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo imagines #seventeen wonwooo #seventeen reactions

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forever-rogue · 2 years ago

Note

yayy now that ik you're open to write for joel, i propose smth angsty along the lines of "you came back for me" bc reader and joel got into a really big fight before getting separated. i just want the angstttt pls crush my heart tear it apart then put it back together by ending really fluffy plssss

AN | The inevitable has arrived - here we are foraying into Joel territory. Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re really stupid sometimes,” it was an exasperated huff that had your hands on your hips as you looked at him. You didn’t mean it - not really anyway. Joel was probably one of the smartest and most resourceful people you’d ever met. He hung his head with a heavy sigh before turning back to you. His expression was entirely unamused, “so foolish and - and stubborn!”

This got a laugh out of him, a bark of unamused laughter but nonetheless. He crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself? You don’t get what you want and you act like a petulant child!”

“I am not,” you hissed, trying your best not to stomp your foot; you didn’t need to help prove his point any further. Maybe he was a little right…Joel often was. But you also felt like your point was right too. Even if this was the middle of a weird zombie apocalypse you were now living in, you should be able to take some time out for yourself. Especially now that you had a more stable living situation, “it’s always work this and work that with you. We should-”

“We should do what we need to in order to survive,” he cut you off, refusing to meet your eyes. He knew, begrudgingly, that you also weren’t entirely wrong, “that is the most important thing.”

“What about us-”

“There is no us,” he insisted and damn. Those four little words broke your heart more than anything. All this time spent together, getting to know each other both on a physical and emotional level meant nothing to him. You should have known. It was almost funny in a horrible way. The older man refused to look at you and you couldn’t help but think him a coward. Maybe he was right after all - maybe you were just a child, “get that in your head and let’s get this over with. We’re losing daylight.”

He took a few steps forward, dirt and gravel crunching under his boots. You shook your head, more to yourself than anything but didn’t follow him. When Joel didn’t hear your footsteps behind him, he turned around, “I’m not going with you.”

“C’mon,” he insisted, “don’t be like this. It’s dangerous for you to be out here by yourself.”

“Well, how am I ever going to learn to survive solely on my own if I’ve always got you or someone else leading the way?” He was correct in reasoning though. It wasn’t safe for anyone alone. It was also recommended that people go out in pairs for that reason, “just go on and I’ll find my own way back.”

“Stop acting like this,” but you just shook your head and took a step further back, “can you just listen to me for once?”

“Actually, Joel, for once it would be me not listening to you. So…you do whatever it is you need to do, do it. I’ll go back and patiently wait. Then you can come back and tell me what to do,” you offered him a sticky sweet smile before turning on your heel and heading back in the direction from which you came. You took off before Joel could say anything, biting your lip in order to keep from making any extra sounds or letting your tears fall down your cheeks.

You heard him call after you, your name falling from his lips in an increasingly exasperated tone. You heard him come after you for a few moments, but eventually he stopped, his signature sigh falling from his lips. But eventually he moved on and you continued back towards Jackson.

Realistically you’d just proved his point by acting in such a childish manner. But you didn’t care, not right now. He’d hurt you, and you didn’t even know if he’d meant to or knew the effect his words were having on you.

“Dumb, stupid girl,” you groaned at yourself, “had to go and mess everything up. And now you’re going to get yourself lost.”

Admittedly, your sense of direction wasn’t the greatest. But the path you’d taken to get to this point, the point where you’d picked an argument with Joel, had been a fairly linear path. Surely you couldn’t fuck that up.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And yet…you managed to fuck that right up.

It was dark and you weren’t back to Jackson yet and you knew that was wrong. It shouldn't have taken so long to get back. You should have been back already. Somewhere along the line you had either taken a wrong turn or missed a turn but you found yourself wandering aimlessly. It was too quiet out here, not even sounds of nighttime creatures reaching your ears. If there were anything out there with you, they’d probably hear you in a heartbeat. You’d just have to hope that there wouldn’t be any runners or stalkers or worse - clickers. You were glad you’d remembered to stash an extra knife in your boot and still had the shotgun slung across your back. You’d never taken one on your own, but you figured you could manage. You were going to have to.

But you just hoped that you wouldn’t come across everything. You’d just camp out in one of the abandoned buildings you’d found until daybreak and then make your way back. That seemed like the most logical and smart thing to do.

You went to check the front door of the building and, naturally, it was locked. Luckily there was an open window nearby that you figured you could use to get in. Hopefully that was a good sign that nothing else was able to get in either. You jumped the little bit of distance that you needed in order to climb up, catching your hands on the window sill and pulling yourself up. You managed to get in, but suffered a less than graceful landing as you plopped on the ground. And…managed to roll your ankle in the process.

“Fuck,” you cried, clutching at your ankle in pain as you tried to stifle your whimper. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you slowly sat up and tried to massage the pain in your ankle away, “shit, damn it. Fuck!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you slapped a hand over it to try and keep any further sound at bay. You sat still, and listened for a few moments to make sure you didn’t hear anything. After a few tense, still minutes had passed, you relaxed; it didn’t seem like anything was there with you.

Crawling towards the corner, you made yourself as small as possible, sitting with your back against the concrete wall, and hugging your knees to your chest. Anything to make yourself as small and unimposing as possible. It was probably a stupid idea to sleep, alone and vulnerable, but it had been a long day and you needed some rest. Your eyes grew heavier and heavier and before you knew it you had succumbed to sleep’s siren call.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time your eyes opened up, heavy and dry, it was the morning. Daylight was streaming inside the room and you let out a relieved, but shaky sigh. You’d made it through the night. That in and of itself was a good sign that you’d make it back. It was safer in the light and you might even meet someone from Jackson on the way back.

As you tried to stand up, you quickly remembered what had happened. The stabbing pain your ankle causing you to yelp as you leaned against the wall, using it to help support yourself. Okay, okay, okay - this was going to be trickier than you thought but you’d be able to get yourself out of there. Your survival instinct was stronger than that.

But before you could do anything or plan anything else you heard it. It was your name being called out in the distance. Gooseflesh erupted all over your skin as you tried to pick out the voice. It came closer and closer and it didn’t take long to figure out who it was. Joel. It made your heart jump before you remembered what had happened. You could just - fuck it. You needed him to survive and while you were stubborn among a whole lot of other things, you were willing to put aside.

“Joel!” you held onto the sill so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. You poked your head outside and looked around until you found him a short distance away, “Joel.”

He stopped at the sound of your voice, and you could see the evident relief that washed over his features. He jogged over to you, and you offered him a tentative, nervous little smile. He shook his head when he realized that you were safe, running a hand through his dark hair. Joel exhaled slowly before looking at you, a hard glint to his, “do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you rolled your eyes lightly.

“This isn’t a game,” his voice sounded between annoyed, worried, and relieved all at once. He reached over and gently touched your face, his hand resting on your cheek, “you thought you could just go off on your own and find your way back? You couldn’t even do that. I got back and you weren’t there. Do you even know what I thought? I-I…”

“I’m okay,” you promised, putting your hand on top of his and giving it what you hoped was a reassuring little squeeze. He wasn’t looking at you, instead looking up at the blue sky. It was almost funny in a way; if you looked up, staring into the bright blue sky, it almost seemed like nothing was wrong and the world was as it had always been, “look at me, please. Joel.”

“I thought something had happened,” he swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes met yours. There was a hard edge to them, but they were still soft, “I thought I’d fucking lost you.”

“You came back,” you took his hand in yours, admiring the feeling of his calloused fingers against your surprisingly soft skin, “you came back for me.”

“Of course I did,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “that was never a question. You should have just come with me and none of this would have happened. You stubborn, foolish girl.”

“You…” it all seemed so trivial and silly now. Now that he was back and had come for you, “I…’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left. Not with my sense of direction.”

“I’m sorry too,” he admitted and you raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was not what you had been expecting to hear. Joel Miller was a hard man and he didn’t generally didn’t experience situations in which he had to apologize, “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

“I shouldn’t have just assumed that you and I were…anything,” your voice dropped as you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to well up, “it was stupid of me and ended up causing both a lot of trouble.”

“You are extremely important to me,” his voice was gentle when it broke the silence that had fallen over the two of you. You couldn’t help the small smile that ticked up the corners of your mouth, “even if I didn’t make it seem like it. We’ll…figure it out, okay? But I want you to know that…I…”

“I know,” you did know. You knew exactly what he was trying to convey, exactly what was going through his mind. It was the same thing you were still scared to say, “me too, Joel.”

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “c’mon. Let’s get you back home and we can…go from there.”

“There’s, um…just a small issue with that,” you put on a sheepish smile as Joel looked at you expectantly, “when I found this place last night - the door was locked. I didn’t want to make too much noise so I didn’t try to force it open. Instead, I climbed in through the window.”

“I can get you out of the window-”

“I hurt my ankle.”

“Of course you did.”

“Joel-”

“It’s always something with you,” he tutted at you, but there wasn’t any anger or malice behind the sound, “what am I going to do with you, huh?”

“Keep me around because I keep you on your toes?” you tried and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. You looked at him with a gentle smile, “can you help get me out of here?”

“Of course,” he promised, “sprained or broken?”

“I dunno,” you looked at the swollen joint and grimaced, “I think just sprained. But I’m not a doctor so…”

“Kid,” affection laced the nickname that he liked to tease you with. He came closer to the window and held his arms out to you. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, letting him tug you closer to his body before he picked you up and swung you through the window. You thought he would set you down, but he didn’t. Instead he held to you his chest, “you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” before you could stop yourself you kissed him tenderly on his scruffy cheek, “thank you for coming back for me.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he promised and you knew he meant it, “always.”

“I know,” you hugged him tightly, “me too. I mean, if the situation were ever reversed. Which I doubt it would be, but you know, the sentiment is there.”

“I know, Kid,” you could feel the laughter vibrating in his chest, “I know."

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #tlou #tlou hbo

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selfishgiirl · 3 months ago

Text

Home With You; Cooper Adams

You have a hard time with your job. Not because Riley isn’t a good kid, but because her father is so goddamn hot—a DILF, if you will.

#sorry if this is ass

You’re a broke college student, so naturally, you take up babysitting for Mr. Adams’—who insists you call him Cooper—little girl.

Riley is a sweet girl, plus she’s easy to watch and get along with. At times it feels like you’re scamming Mr. Adams, Cooper, just because you actually really like and enjoy Riley, plus he pays you ridiculously.

Sometimes you try to refuse some of the money—not all, you’ve still got books to pay for—but he doesn’t let you.

He works weird hours as a firefighter, so it’s usually late when he comes home to Riley asleep and you either sleeping on the couch, watching TV, or doing homework, as you are now.

It’s about midnight when Cooper opens the door, finding you at the table typing away at your laptop. At the sound of the door, your head whips up and the miserable expression you’d had previously is replaced with a soft smile and Cooper hangs up his keys meticulously before making his way to you, “Hey.” He greets, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stands over you. “How was she?”

“Good, Miste…,uh, Cooper—,” You correct your mistake, and something akin to amusement flickers in his expression, “—like always. We worked on that math she was having trouble on, I think she’s almost got it down. How was work?”

“Ah, the usual. Mostly paperwork.” He answers, eyes not leaving yours, which makes you swallow and you wanna shy away, but you don’t. “What about you, how’s your homework? You didn’t look too happy when I walked in.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, embarrassed that he’d noticed your misery in working on a paper. “Right, yeah, I’m just not having a good time writing my paper. Just a little stressed s’all.” He nods at this, and then seems to be thinking about what he’s going to say next.

“It, uh, it isn’t that boy is it?” Cooper inquires and you immediately break eye contact at his words. Fuck, you totally forgot you mentioned him. “He’s not causing you any stress, is he?”

It’s so embarrassing for your hot boss to ask you about some boy you’d stupidly told him about when he’d asked what had been going in your life a week previously. Sheepishly, you pick at your sweater. “Not really.” You shrug, and at your vagueness, he waits for you to continue. “I stopped seeing him. He wasn’t—it didn’t work out.” By now your face is hot in humiliation at confiding in him about some guy you talked to in order to get over your attraction to Cooper, which hadn’t worked and instead made it worse.

“I see.” Cooper says, and he seems to tower over you even more in the moment. “What happened?” He puts a hand on your shoulder and your eyes linger on it. You can’t help but notice how large his hand is on your shoulder, and his fingers—“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly at your silence, assuming it was a sensitive subject. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Your eyes widen at this, “Oh no, it’s fine, really!” You jumble out and his embarrassed look shifts to a relieved expression. “He was just kinda on a different page than I was, I guess.” You stumble a bit when he begins to rub his hand on your shoulder, “W-wanted more from me than…I was willing to give.” You mumble the last part sheepishly, and Cooper’s expression is unreadable at your words. His lips are pursed and his eyes seem darker than they usually are.

“Boys your age, they don’t know what they’re doing.” He finally speaks after a moment of eye contact you find to be a little too intimate with his hand on your shoulder, and instinctively you press your thighs together. “Not with girls like you.”

Your breath catches at that, and your brain stops functioning before you snort. “And guys your age do?” The moment those words tumble out your mouth, your eyes widen in realization of what you said, mouth parting to excuse yourself, but you can’t seem to find the words.

Cooper stops rubbing your shoulder, hand stilling. “Men my age do, yeah.” You’re looking at him through your lashes, dazed at this point as his eyes bore into you. His hand trails up your shoulder, brushing your neck, before he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes are searching your own for any signs of rejection as his hand gently cups your face.

Your own hands find solace in your lap as your thighs squeeze as hard as they can against each other, and you shift a bit uncomfortably at the pressure between them. “Mr. Adams…”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Cooper?” He asks in a voice barely above a whisper before his hand picks up again, fingers lightly tracing your jawline before his thumb finds its place on your bottom lip, swiping it, before pushing gently against your mouth. Your lips part in compliance, and his thumb presses itself into your mouth, to which you suck lightly. His lips quirk up, “You’re always so eager to please, aren’t you?”

As if you’d just gained consciousness at his teasing, your eyes widen, and you release his thumb from your mouth before standing up abruptly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.” You refuse to look at him, face hot and tears beginning to form as you back yourself into the wall. “This is so unprofessional, please, Mr. Adams I—,”

“Come on, look at me—please, sweetheart?” You obediently look up at him to see him smiling gently as he steps closer. “Don’t be sorry.” Cooper whispers, towering over you before cupping your cheeks with both hands, then wiping away the runaway tears. “Say the word and I’ll stop.” He tells you before leaning in, lips meeting yours in a gentle, chaste kiss that you don’t immediately respond to as your brain processes what’s going on. Every sense of yours is on fire before you finally kiss back eagerly, hands gripping onto his—very broad—shoulders for support.

“Cooper,” you breathe out, eyes blown out as you search his own dilated eyes. His hands trail down your face, then lightly ghost over your chest, then find their place on your waist. Once again, you find yourself squeezing your thighs together to help relieve yourself of the pressure, which Cooper observes and finds endearingly pathetic. “Kiss me again.” A plead, at best.

He obliges you, but this time the kiss is more hungry as his body presses harder into your own, cornering you against the wall.

You pull away for a moment to breathe before he presses his lips to yours again, deepening the kiss when he tilts his head, and you desperately kiss back, moaning lightly when tongue gets added to the mix. Your hips buck up into his, meeting a certain hardness clothed by his jeans, earning another whine from you.

When he begins to pull away, you get bold this time, biting his lip lightly, before looking up through your lashes with those doe eyes of yours. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in deliciously, sure to leave light marks and the thought makes you shiver.

As you ponder the bruises you’re sure you’ll find the next morning, he hoists you up, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck while your legs wrap around his waist. You knew he was strong, but Jesus, to experience it this way was..well…hot, to say the least.

He presses a teasing kiss to your lips before trailing his lips down, then pressing into your chin, then your neck. First, he kisses a spot on your neck, then he sinks his teeth in lightly, causing you to gasp and your hips to buck up unsuccessfully in his hold.

His lips suction over the spot he’d bit, then his tongue presses flat against the same spot, and he continues this all over the map of your neck. “I..you can’t..I’m gonna have marks all over me..” You barely get out, voice weak in protest—you and he both know you don’t actually care.

“Good.” He mutters against your skin, nipping briefly before pulling away. “I want that boy to see them—fuck, you don’t know—,” he pauses and sets you down before nudging your legs open with his knee, then presses his leg against your center, earning a strangled noise from you, “—how I felt when you told me about him.”

Your breath catches at this. He was jealous. He was jealous of that guy you briefly even mentioned to him the week before. His thigh nudges you, and you gasp before allowing yourself relief by grinding down in response, lightly moaning. “I was only trying to get over you.” You reveal to him, and Cooper looks pleased with what you said, eyes glinting. “He tried to fuck me, but he wasn’t y-you.” His leg presses harder into you. “When he kissed me, you were all I thought about.”

“I should have taken care of you sooner.” Cooper licks his lips, keeping one hand gripped on your hip and he guides it against his thigh, and the other finds its place on your neck, before gripping your face to force you to look at him when you begin to shy away, getting embarrassed at your own grinding. “So eager, getting off on my thigh like this.”

You shudder before nodding frantically, cheeks slightly mushed together in his grip. “Please, Cooper,” You beg, “please it’s not enough.” At this point you’re close to tears at the stimulation that’s just enough to relieve a bit of the throbbing between your legs, but not enough to actually get off.

“What do you want?” He’s cruel and he knows it, a sick smirk etching itself onto his face as he revels in your squirming. You can’t even get out a sentence, growing more flustered and desperate the more friction you get. “Come on, sweetheart. You can use your words can’t you?”

“Your fingers, anything, please!” You squeak out, tears almost brimming, “Please just touch me, sir.” It’s an accident that you say that, your brain’s too foggy to really think about what you’re saying, but nonetheless his breathing gets uneven and his fingers twitch against your face.

“Say it again.” He drawls in a voice just barely above a whisper as his hand trails from your face to the bottom of your sweater. His fingers lightly trace the waistband of your jeans, lightly brushing your bare hipbone before trailing up your stomach, then cupping your breast over the flowery bra you have on. He relishes in the light whine that you let out.

“Sir, please..” you supply before pushing your hips up, and he finally obliges you, a hand reaching down your pants at first, teasing you over your panties before he undoes the button of your jeans, pulling them just barely past your thighs. You look down, embarrassed that you have on some unsexy pair of panties. You really wish you’d worn your lace panties, not the pair that read out Thursday.

“It’s not Thursday.” He chuckles, amused at your choice of panties. You’re not as amused, just desperate as you whine at his teasing, hands gripping his shirt tightly.

“Just tou—!” Your complaint is cut off when he brushes his finger over your clit over the cotton of your panties. He’s still teasing, and as your about to whine again, he reaches his hand under the Thursday panties, his middle finger beginning to rub over your clit. You let out a slightly loud whine and his unoccupied hand covers your mouth.

“Can’t be too loud, sweetheart.” He mutters, eyes fixated onto your own as your eyebrows pinch together and your eyelids flutter. “So sensitive.”

You nod keenly, a silent beg. With one hand, he pulls down your panties before pushing the pointer finger of his hand covering your mouth against your lips in a shushing motion, then he kneels down, his face level with your lower region.

You’re looking down at him in shock before his mouth latches onto your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth and his hands grip onto your thighs, spreading them further.

Your hand flies over your mouth and you close your eyes tightly as your hips begin to buck into his face. One hand stays on your hip, keeping you in place while the other trails lower, his thumb tracing the slit of your cunt before a finger enters you, stretching you deliciously.

“Jesus,” he mutters as his mouth detaches from you for a moment while his finger pumps, easily hitting that sweet spot in you, “so fuckin’ tight.”

His tongue laps over you as a second digit enters you, setting itself at a ruthless pace hitting that spongy spot inside of you. It’s almost too much and you attempt to squeeze your legs shut, but his hand tightly gripping your thigh prevents your legs from closing. It won’t be long before you cum and he knows that, slowing for a moment to hear you whine before picking it up again.

“Mr. Adams, please, sir—oh, God.” your voice comes out as quiet as you can make it, “Wanna cum.” You warble out and your legs begin to give, “Please, please..”

In response to your pleads, he curls his fingers against your g-spot, making you whine out into the palm of one of your hands while the other rakes through his hair and tugs. His mouth is still latched onto your cunt, tongue beginning to press flat against your clit.

You let out one last muffled moan before coming, legs once again attempting to shut as he works you through your orgasm, fingers moving at a faster pace and somehow reaching deeper than you believed to be possible.

His tongue also picks up, and you begin to twitch and whine at the overstimulation. “It’s too much,” you pant out between your fingers, but he doesn’t let up—even at the rough tugging of his hair. “I can’t, Cooper, please..!”

At this, he finally lets up, fingers slipping out of you and mouth detaching. You’re still panting and at this point you feel boneless, taking your hand from his hair and steadying yourself against the wall instead.

Cooper rises to your height and without warning sticks his sticky fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself as your whimper around his fingers, obediently sucking. He wears that cruel smile again before stroking your head with his unoccupied hand. “You should stay the night. It’s too late to drive.”

#cooper adams x reader #cooper adams x you #cooper adams #josh hartnett #need that #he a munch ?#trap #trap 2024 #trap movie

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cottonlemonade · 5 months ago

Note

First off CONGRATULATIONSSS omg youre stories are so good and you deserve it(btw you're request system is sooo creative I love it.)

And Can I order a cup of milk with a matcha roll off of menu A or B please? And can I sit next to bokuto!

Tutoring Him

word count: 589 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: Bokuto x implied chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: fluffy, tutoring crush Bokuto

Bokuto slumped over onto the open book and groaned. He was tired of studying before it even started. Why did he have to hit the books when he could be practicing his spikes right now?

“I see you’re trying out the osmosis technique of studying?”

He shot up, a loose page from his notebook stuck to his forehead.

“Y/n-chan!”, he said in surprise.

“Akaashi-kun asked me to step in for him today. He had an errand to run.”

Bokuto made a mental note to buy his friend an armload of new manga. His chest felt all bubbly when you sat down across from him in the empty classroom.

“So.”, you began and with a cool flick of your wrist opened your textbook to a diagram of cell anatomy, “Let’s start with the basics of the cell structure. What do you know about the nucleus?”

“It’s… in the middle?”

You looked at the picture. “I mean… you’re not wrong.”, you said fairly, then moved your finger a little pointing to something else, “What about cytoplasm?”

“It’s the stuff that keeps everything in place?”

“Hm… again, not… entirely wrong, I guess, but I’m sensing a pattern.”, you laughed and the sound made Bokuto’s heart flutter.

“Alright, one more try. What about the mitochondria?”

Oh, this one he knew!

“It’s the powerhouse of the cell!”, he exclaimed excitedly but his face got a little more color when he saw your frown, “That one has to be right, though. Kuroo taught me!”

“So uhm, I don’t know who this Kuroo is but I think you should spend some time apart. At least until after the exams.” You patted his shoulder.

Next, you had him open his notes for an exercise and were impressed and terrified how he managed to even read them between all the doodles. Most revolved around volleyball, of course, others were just random swirls or shapes. When he got to the pages about genetics however, he confidently turned his folder towards you so you could check if his notes were correct before starting to work, but a moment later he practically threw himself over the pages to cover them.

Although, too late. You had already seen the elaborately decorated heart next to the table of Mendel’s law with yours and his name. It was even colored.

“Uhm, Bokuto-san?”

“No?”, he mumbled feebly as his hair seemed to deflate.

“Do you… are you- I mean… do you like me?”

“I wouldn’t call it like…”

“Oh?”

“More like… super crazy in love?”

“Oh!”

When he looked up and saw you blush, his confidence returned immediately.

“Do you like me, too? - Argh, I had this whole thing planned. I wanted to win the next tournament and confess to you with the medal and- but if you like me, too, please let me be your boyfriend, y/n-chan!”

You were so perplexed that the only thing you could say was, “Are you sure?”

He nodded vehemently, practically hovering out of his seat in anticipation of your reply.

“Yes, Bokuto-san, I’d love that.”

He jumped up and cheered, feeling as if he’d just won a championship. Next thing you knew he lifted you out of the chair and pulled you into a bone crushing hug, your feet dangling off the ground.

“Oh my gosh, Bokuto, put me down before you hurt yourself!”, you squeaked but he only squished you further, melting into the softness of your body. “Not yet.”, he mumbled into the crook of your neck, “I’ll be the best boyfriend, you’ll see!”

a/n: and he was, in fact, the best boyfriend turned husband. I love him so much! Thank you for the cute request and your kind words 🫶🏻 I hope you enjoyed it! 🌟

#sunnys school lunches #bokuto x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro #bokuto #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu x curvy reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

Text

𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙚 | Welcome Home [Request]

Jungkook can't remember the last time you've been apart for so long. And with you gone, he might just go crazy- or make odd spontaneous decisions.

Tags/Warnings: Racer!Jungkook, established relationship, romance, they're so goofy, so much love, smut, lube? is that a warning?, bare sex (MC has an IUD), Jungkook got a haircut bc his girl was not around to make him contemplate his decisions before making them

Requested by: Miriwe on Patreon

Length: 2k words

-> Masterlist

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"I'm gone three days and you're already going crazy apparently." You laugh as you walk into the living room, where Jungkook is sitting on the couch, not having heard you walk in it seems like.

He immediately pauses his game to jump over the back of the furniture, almost tripping as he runs to you, picking you up to hold you close.

"Of course I went crazy!" He laughs, putting you down to your feet again to kiss you. "Had to spend three days in an empty bed without my fiancé." He laughs into his kisses, and you giggle. "Why didn't you tell me you were back? I would've picked you up from the airport." He whines a bit childishly, while you just shrug.

"Nah, would've caused too much of a commotion." You deny, reminding him of the fact that he's always causing some chaos whenever he's seen in public. "But putting that aside, when did you buzz it off?" You ask, fingers curiously running over the shaven sides of his head.

"Yesterday, actually." He chuckles. "My hair was getting in the way." He shrugs.

"So you decided 'oh yeah, I'm just gonna get even hotter while my girlfriend is away with her parents' like, excuse me?" You scold playfully.

"Fiancé, first of all, and I guess that already answers the question if it suits me." He laughs, happily correcting you in your own title.

"Ah, I can't believe I'm gonna get married to you." You swoon teasingly, smacking his chest once. "Now lemme go, I'm hungry." You say- but he's not letting you go at all. If anything, he pulls you even closer to himself.

"I'm hungry too." He tells you instead. You look at him in confusion.

"Okay? Then let me cook, idiot." You say, but he shakes his head.

"Nop." He denies, before picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom, hand loudly smacking your ass.

"Jeon Jungkook, no!" You laugh. "Please, I'm so jetlagged from the flight-" You complain, but he lets you down gently on the unmade bed, sheets unruly from his nightly rest. He's not really been sleeping well without you home- the three days of not having you around truly reminding him of just how much he needs you in his life.

Not just to keep order, but in general.

As odd as it sounds, he even caught himself multiple times the first day calling out to you, just to remember you're not home. His mind expected you in bed, in the kitchen, in the living room, every single time he'd enter the room- and the kitchen felt lonely, suffocating, with no company but the buzzing fridge and ticking cat-shaped clock on the wall. His house suddenly felt.. bland.

Especially on the second day, when he came out of the shower just to find the bed cold and empty, he found himself sitting on the edge of it, looking through pictures of you and him on his phone, browsing his gallery for hours until he finally fell asleep. It was a reminder, those few days. A reminder that he needs you, that you're a part of his life he can't really bear to not have around anymore.

A reminder that he made the right decision in asking you to marry him, entering the final stage of your relationship.

"I'll do all the work baby." He purrs, crawling over you as you stretch your limbs, visibly relaxing in the familiar home once more. "How was your trip?" He wonders, and you laugh, his hands helping you out of your sweater.

"Kook, I love you, but I'm not talking about my goddamn parents when we're about to have sex." You complain, and he chuckles, nodding.

"Alright, you got a point." He admits, pulling down your pants and socks to kiss up your leg. "I missed you so much." He hums against your skin, and you smile, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.

"So much so you buzzed your hair off?" You laugh, and he nods, teasingly biting at your thigh.

"Exactly." He agrees. "Would've gone bald if you'd stayed away a day longer." He says, lips traveling up your stomach before his hands cup your chest, running over to the back of your body to unhook your bra.

"Oh no!" You jokingly exclaim. "But honestly I think your face makes every haircut work. Even that Dora-the-Explorer situation you had a year back." You say, making him roll his eyes as he throws your bra down carelessly.

"Stop bringing that up." He complains, and you laugh brightly so.

"But it's funny!" You tell him, before he bites at your chest. "Hey, stop biting!" You giggle.

"Stop biting~!" He mimics you, before he moves to kiss your neck. "As if you don't love it." He purrs.

"Caught me." You reply, legs moving already to wrap around him. "Now get naked, nerd." You flirt, and he can't help the laugh that escapes him.

"Can we be romantic at least once?" He whines, leaning back to rid himself of his shirt and pants.

"No, you'd burn the house down with those yankee-candles you got." You threaten, and he rolls his eyes yet again, opening the bedside drawer to search for a small bottle of scented lube, just in case.

"You really have no trust in me, baby." He shakes his head, putting the little plastic bottle on the side for now as he moves to pull your panties from your legs. "What if I used electrical ones?" He proposes. "Turn on some music. Cigarettes after sex- like, the band, not me smoking." He corrects.

"Obviously." You hum. "I'd leak your nudes if you smoked inside the house." You sigh, and he looks at you for a moment.

"That's a joke, right?" He asks, and you shrug, smiling at him. "That's a joke. You're joking." He states once more, but still, you don't answer. The funny part is that deep down, he actually believes you would indeed do that. You're a wildcard after all- he never really knows if what you say is a joke or an actual fact you state.

Like when you said that he was fine accompanying his friend to his bachelor party, which was held at a nightclub, naked dancers included. You'd simply told him to have fun, but eat at home- and while for a moment or two, he didn't really know what you meant, he realized it soon after. You had no issue taking a look- hell, you constantly told him that some of the other racers were 'pretty hot', but he knows you'd never go after anyone but him. You might get your appetite up, yes-

but you eat at home.

"Jungkook you've never even sent me nudes you idiot!" You laugh after a moment of watching him clearly contemplating his life-choices up until now, finally realizing that you're right. "Or did you sent someone else some, huh?" You suddenly threaten, foot against his abs keeping him away from you while you glare.

"Absolutely not." He shakes his head immediately. "You can bet your pretty ass on that." He says, as you remove your leg from him, hands now reaching out, inviting him back in. "Only got you-" He hums towards you, kissing your lips hungrily. "Only need you." He finishes, and you sigh, hands on his arms.

"Missed you." You admit. "Couldn't sleep well at all." You say, and he smiles.

"Me neither." He shakes his head. "Thought about you way too much." Jungkook tells you, while his hand travels between your legs, touch reviving your soul it feels like as he works you up.

"We're so in love, it's actually kinda disgusting." You laugh, and he joins in on that.

"Nah." He denies. "We're just the definition of love." He shrugs, curling his fingers inside you, making you arch your back.

"Jungkook please-" You whine. "Stop teasing me, I'm way too horny now!" You complain, and he grins, moving to stroke his length with the hand still covered in your arousal.

He's just as impatient, but he also knows he needs to prep you well. Years of being in a relationship with you also comes with in-depth knowledge of your body, and how to love you just right. You might not realize it sometimes, but he knows that if he doesn't pay good attention to detail, you'll be sore tomorrow-

and he plans on making up for those three days, just to remind you what you've been missing.

He reaches for the tiny bottle on the bedside table to squeeze some of the clear liquid out, making sure to make it as comfortable as possible for you, before he lines himself up with your entrance, moving your legs up a little to pull you closer. It's been something you've been quite insecure about- having refused to admit to him for months that he's packing a bit too much for you to handle without any help sometimes, and he's felt bad that you thought you couldn't tell him. Back then, he'd been insecure himself- with no prior knowledge about anything regarding sex, you've been both a little lost in translation on some occasions.

There's been more than a handful of awkward moments during your times together- and by now, you're both comfortable to the point where nothing is weird any longer.

The sweet smell of sweet strawberries fills the air faintly as he pushes himself in, sighing in bliss at the familiar feel of your body welcoming him. "Good?" He asks you, and you nod, making him tap your nose so you open your eyes again. "Really?" He asks again, and you move a bit now, nodding. It's the confirmation he needed to start moving, leaning back on his heels to roll his hips forwards, your lower body resting over his thighs as he keeps you elevated like that with his hands holding your legs. You've got your arms relaxed into the pillows over your head, eyes closed as your chest sways with every thrust he delivers.

He loves having you back. Not just your body- but you, in general.

"I wanna come with you next time." He tells you, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs. "Don't care if they like me or not." He growls, never slowing down his pace.

"Jungkookie~!" You whine, before laughing. "What did I say literally- like- twenty minutes ago?" You complain, and he laughs too, nodding.

"Sorry, sorry." He apologizes, letting go of your legs to lean over you, kissing you once more. It's the only way he knows he'll shut up for long enough- there's just so much rushing through his head, everything that's happened in those three days trying to break out his mouth just to talk to you- because he can talk to you now. You're back home, and he just missed you so fucking much.

Now, of course you talked over the phone daily, sure. But it's just not the same. It's not close enough.

Right now, he's out of breath, forced to part from you just a little, leaning his face into the crook of your neck as he presses his pelvis into you, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close, arms around his neck keeping him from parting from you. "I love you so much." He hums against your skin, picking up his pace, exhaling through his nose as his jaw clenches, orgasm approaching quickly. His hand assists you by finding your most sensitive spot, pushing you over the edge so he can let go as well, your core clenching around his length to keep him in, milk him for all he's got.

He's out of breath, and so are you- his body simply laying down close to you, moving you around to lay over him, still inside you. "Kook, I'm sticky-" You whine, but he just smiles, hands smacking your butt. "Jungkook!" You scold, laughing, and he simply reaches for your face, to peck your lips.

Twice. Because once is just never enough.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic

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takami-takami · 11 months ago

Text

Like a Candle at Both Ends.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut.

warnings— sub!keigo. reader uses a strap. double penetration with a twist. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. dacryphilia. cum as lube. slight feminization (of keigo). slight degradation. some brattiness. face-sitting mentioned.

In which you blow the birthday boy's back out like a candle. Topping Keigo with a fleshlight underneath him, that way he gets so overwhelmed he cries. ♡

You're at least ninety percent sure Keigo won't remember a damn word he says, tomorrow.

It's a pity, truly, that his gorgeous babbles of incoherency that entertain you aplenty in bed will only live on in your memories; but you suppose you can't really blame him. It would be difficult for any man to remain focused in this situation— let alone one who gets as lost in the floaty depths of subspace as Hawks.

You've always known your boyfriend to have a penchant for indulgence. If the tabloids get one thing at least half-correct, it's that Keigo is quite the glutton for satisfying his baser urges.

Tabloids call him a foodie. They snap pictures of him at different restaurants every afternoon during his usual two o'clock lunch breaks, sinking his teeth into delicacies with a moan, only to wash it down with the most caffeinated coffee he can get his mitts on.

And those same tabloids write adorable little periodicals about how their media darling just loves a little something to eat.

But you know better.

The reality is, it's more that Keigo is simply a brat who likes to indulge. He likes to be pleased.

He likes to fill and be filled, to stuff and be stuffed; but you don't blame them for not reading between the lines, there. You suppose you do have the unfair advantage of seeing him make that same, satisfied face after you've milked his cock to empty itself past the point of shooting blanks.

If anyone on this earth is privy to a crucial little piece of information the rest of the world doesn't know, it's you. The paparazzi that flock like vultures outside local diners in the hopes of catching the number two may snap pics of him smiling to himself as he digs in, but they don't have the slightest idea what else Keigo likes to sink his teeth into.

Namely: your neck, if he's lucky; cock throbbing in your vice grip, on days you grant him permission to teethe at your skin until the splotches of color from his marks settle like satisfaction in his chest.

But mostly— and especially, on nights like tonight— the revered, dignified hero Keigo Takami just sinks his teeth into the pillow like a goddamn whore.

Right now, as Keigo lays on his front and bites back some rather pathetic sounds, the plush pillow beneath him is looking unbearably chewable to his eyes. Your delicate hand is reaching around his body like a serpent, snaking underneath his pelvis to grip his sensitive length so carefully in your palm; and the man below you is beginning to suspect he might need another outlet for his sexual frustrations, soon.

"I c-can do that myself," Keigo releases the pillow and sputters, though his body doesn't protest in the slightest. In fact, his hips arch away from the toy positioned below, in order to allow you rightful access to his cock.

"Yeah, obviously," you answer with a squint, sliding your fingers along his length. "But I want to do it for you, so I will. Are you complaining, Kei'?"

"Mm. No," he hums the right answer, shifting comfortably to rest his cheek against the pillow and settle his weight on his knees. "But I might start complaining if you don't hurry it up. I don't take this long when I put it in you," he whines, smushing his cheek further into the fluff to resist the temptation to look down. He doesn't flinch a bit when you thread your fingers through his hair in response, practically petting him.

Still, Keigo sighs in pleasure rather than dissatisfaction when he shuts his eyes. He can't deny that your soft skin feels incredible on his cock, crackling with electric charge; but the fleshlight trapped beneath his hips is enticingly lubed and ready for him, and that simple fact is causing him to grow impatient. The way you're rubbing his tip against its entrance doesn't help in the slightest. It feels more agonizing than pleasurable, at this point.

"Stop playing with it and put it inside already," he groans.

"Aww," you coo. "Are you feeling pent up today, Keigo?"

It's meant to be a tease, but the response you get is heartbreakingly genuine.

"A little bit, yeah," Keigo answers truthfully, cocking his head to the side for a second. His neck pops with the motion, achingly, and he cracks his neck the other way to make it look intentional. Still on his belly, he crosses his elbows and tucks his chin atop his arms.

Keigo looks genuinely fatigued when he blinks. Black lashes rest on his cheekbones a little longer than usual today, and you're aware that the only thing hiding his prominent eye bags is a few layers of expensive, caked-on concealer.

You swallow a pang of resentment at the sight.

Next year, you'll be sure to make a few phone calls with some choice words and demands you refuse to budge on.

Somehow, the urge to spit an uncharacteristically shrill "let me speak to your manager" over the phone to some HPSC bigshot isn't quite as strong as the urge to spoil Keigo tonight, instead; to make your baby forget the press interviews his handlers drag him to, around this time every year. The meetups, the galas— even those photoshoots you're silently a bit thankful for because he looks so irritatingly handsome in them.

You take out your irritation on his wings, gripping the sensitive primaries in one fist. To his delight, you begin to stroke the sensitive, silky bristles along the sides of his feathers, teasing them with your fingertips.

"Woah, woah, woah," Keigo smirks. The plumage of his wingspan preens with the attention, arching into your touch like a purring, spoiled housecat. "Easy there, doll. What's gotten into you today— oh, fuck me."

The moan dies down into a pleased rumble in his chest; and before he knows it, his hips arch just like his glorious wings, grinding his backside against the pretty, pink appendage strapped to your hips by a few medieval-looking buckles.

"Nothing," you lie. "Just wanted to shut you up, but it's not working all that well."

"Liar," he snides. "You know that makes me loud, baby."

"Wasn't exactly trying to hide that, but nice try."

Your palm finally guides his tip into the toy, slipping it deep inside while he sighs in momentary relief.

But the relief is just that. Momentary.

Keigo's hardly bottomed out for a dozen seconds before he's whining and trying to press himself back against the tip of your strap, too.

"Oh my god," you laugh genuinely, dumbfounded by how quickly he begs for the next little indulgence on the list. You're too busy popping the lid of a plastic tube and drizzling your strap with lube to babysit him; so for now, you ignore his whorish little display for attention.

"You want it that bad, already," you ask, slicking the length and plopping the tip against his fluttering rim, giving him a few lovetaps.

"Yeah," Keigo smiles, deliriously. "Wanna feel you fucking against my prostate. Give it to me."

Cheeky. On another day, you'd deny him strap altogether for acting like he doesn't need to do anything to earn it.

"Tell me if anything feels weird," you say instead, kissing his shoulder once while you grip the tip in one hand, pressing it against his hole. "Does it feel okay?"

"Mm, yeah," he rolls his shoulders. "But can you, uh, let me just lay here a little, at first? You know, while you do your thing?"

Keigo shakes his hips in an attempt to look enticing with the shameless request. "I'll be really good. Promise."

"You're such a fucking pillow princess," you accuse as you slide inside his already prepped hole and begin to move; and just as quickly as you utter it, the pseudo-insult backfires in the form of a high pitched, utterly pleased moan below you.

"I-I can be your princess," Keigo immediately agrees, with some nods alongside each of your thrusts. When you sink into him, he sinks his teeth further into the pillow than his mind sinks to delirium— deeper than his pride sinks down to a new low.

"I'm yours, I'm your princess," Keigo repeats. "I'm your fucking princess," he moans, reaching one hand back to claw those delicately manicured fingernails into the meat of your thigh. Each nail is meticulously cut, shaved down like the hair on his lithe body and painted an iridescent gold to match his eyes under your bedroom light.

It's whiny when he pleads, "fuck me"— and it sounds even more pathetic when he squeals it.

With every infuriatingly slow thrust of your hips, Keigo makes a show of displaying his greed. He drags you into him, vice-grip in one hand locked in your flesh to pull it flush into his. His other hand busies itself clutching the drool-soaked pillow against his bare chest for stability.

You treat him delicately, fucking him too slow for him to even think of blowing his load? Oh, that makes him growl through his teeth.

"Just blow my back out, already!" He practically mopes, cock still throbbing in his toy. You can hear the purse of Keigo's lips, his adorable, jutted bottom lip that you're certain is wobbling at this point.

"C'mon," he grits. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you should, like… Keep your promises? They're no good if you don't, y'know."

There are only a few days in the year Keigo is allowed to act out like this, and he'll be damned if he doesn't capitalize on them to the fullest.

The brat's gonna put you in an early grave at this rate, you think. You may not be able to punish him today, but you certainly can give him exactly what he wants.

And when you do give him what he wants, the reality becomes abundantly clear: he can't actually handle it.

When you speed up, he pants like a dog— or, more aptly given this pretty little position, dripping submission and precum while he gets his ass stuffed, face down— Keigo pants like a bitch.

With his tongue far too heavy for his mouth, he resorts to whimpering into the pillow— his poor little crutch. The fleshlight is still squished between his pelvis and the bed, so every thrust you grind against his ass milks his cock, too. It's impossible to keep his head clear and focused when he's stimulated on all fronts; but bless him, Keigo does try.

He tries so hard, pathetically, to focus through the sounds of his lubed cock rubbing against the wet silicone, through the full feeling stuffing his insides at the same time.

Yet even still, it's not enough for him. He snarls in frustration as he shoves his hand between his thighs to adjust the cocksleeve, angled so he can stuff more of his cock in it, enveloped down to his base and pressing near-painfully against his balls.

Fuckin' perfect, he sighs, finally able to direct his attention to his lovely partner digging out his guts from behind.

"Make me your b-b—" He starts and trails off, brows pinched with effort. "Make me yours," he corrects.

Oh? You tuck that little tidbit away.

You suppose it's been countless minutes since you began railing the poor, whimpering pup beneath you. That is, if you were to judge by the rasp in his voice that builds each time he cries his heart out.

Keigo is, despite it all, a very, very good boy. He gives you his visual cues when he feels that telltale tingling in the swollen, blushing tip of his cock; the one that lets him know how close he really is to bursting along the edge. He tenses his already defined muscles and looks back at you with the cutest puppydog eyes, just to make sure you know he's close.

"I'm gonna cum," he warns verbally, too.

But you don't stop.

If his muscles weren't tense enough before, they certainly are now.

"Baby?" Keigo near-panics, turning a bit to gaze up at you pleadingly. Your floral bed sheets twist into spirals under each of his fists, wrung in a manner not unlike his cock. "Baby, I-I said I was gonna cum."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." You peer down your nose and eye the bead of sweat that slithers down his neck.

You watch the tremble of Keigo's hips as he does his best to keep his position poised like a prized showdog, dutifully still. He resists the urge to meet your strokes, instead offering every scrap of control to you as he lets the length of your strap carve out his insides. With every angled rock of your hips, the tip of your curved cock rubs against his poor prostate, stimulating it and making it a nightmare of an endurance test to hold himself back from spilling.

Habit is a powerful thing. Of course, Keigo's body recognizes the familiarity of this song and dance. His cock, ever well-trained, expects you to deny its release; to still your hips and cause his balls to ache, heavy with deprivation, just like you always do.

But tonight, you don't stop.

Your hands are still gripping his hips and your strap buckles are still clinking with your desperate movements. Your pelvis keeps pressing him deeper, manually pushing him in and out of the toy below; and he begrudgingly accepts your generosity, because it's possible that you just felt a little altruistic today.

After all, it is his—

"I'm gonna cum," Keigo whimpers. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum!"

And with his nails tearing at the sheets, Keigo's world goes white; almost as white as the sticky mess he makes of his poor little toy, tip flooding it with rope after rope from his throbbing cock.

It rings in his ears when he climaxes, overloading his poor brain with endorphins and making him scream into the pillow he chomps down on.

Still, your delicate hands guide his hips back and forth, ignoring his babbling to watch him fuck his own cum into the toy.

If it pleases you to watch Keigo continue the motion long after your hands have retreated, you keep it to yourself.

"Ah," he nearly shrieks, high pitched and pretty. "Too much! Ah, fuck, baby, please—"

"Yeah? How does it feel, sweetheart?"

"W-Wet," Keigo hiccups, hips stuttering just the same as his voice. He paws at the sheets when he continues, kneading them in his palms like a kitten. "So fucking wet."

"Mhm," you hum, sitting back on your haunches. You decide to make him use his words for your entertainment, to sate your indignance at his prior tantrums. "And why is that, babe?"

Your palms slide possessively down his hips and up the curvature of his back, meeting his arch. They trail toward his shoulder blades, fingers splayed as Keigo tries to chase them; and to your amusement, he hardly looks to be in the proper state to process the fact that he's actually being mocked, let alone protest it.

To Keigo, all he knows is it simply feels good.

Keigo answers obediently, instead. It takes you by surprise, the way his unabashed filth spills without shame. Arousal pools between your thighs, but your body remains still— if only to watch the way he fucks himself on your cock, balls deep before he does the same using his own to the fleshlight below.

"Because it's stuffed full of my cum. It's s-so wet, full— fuck," he slurs, voice airy and utterly uncontrolled when he draws his hips back onto your thick, pink strap, down till his ass meets your pelvis; and he thrusts his cock back inside the toy, the subsequent shlick somehow louder than how he runs his mouth.

Back and forth, in and out, Keigo irreverently milks himself from both ends. The motion of it smears his own spent along the sides of his cock, acting as the most obscene lubricant. It's messy, unbearably loud in its slick sounds.

It must sound as satisfying to hump as it feels, Keigo thinks. His lip wobbles at the thought, hoping it impresses you, and he bites the pillow below him.

"Aww, it's full?" You don't bother to muffle your laughs as you kneel behind him, simply watching as the once-powerful hero below you does all the work and fucks the snark out of himself, for you. The sound of your condescending laughter breaks him, whittling down his vocabulary as his mind sinks to that familiar, fuzzy place.

The silicone is unbearably tight around his length, even though you were careful to pick one out that he could fit into. The thickness and length of Keigo's cock does tend to make shopping for toys a chore, you muse.

You're not complaining, though. You'll take a couple extra hours of scrolling through fleshlight reviews on forums for the well-endowed before making a purchase, if it means you can keep getting split open by his massive cock when he bends you over the bathroom vanity.

Or the kitchen counter. Or the leather couch in your living room. Or the nearest single-stall restroom sink after you accidentally call him something you shouldn't have in public.

But tonight, the nicknames you call him sound nothing like "sir."

They sound like "puppy", like "sweetheart", like "good boy."

The ribbed, silicone rings inside are designed to squeeze his cock with each stroke. It normally feels simply pleasurable; though, after an orgasm that explosive, his cock feels nearly raw in its sensitivity, nerves exposed like live wiring and sparking electricity all the same.

"It hurts," Keigo squeaks through his fat, wet tears; and you begin to pull out and fuss over him.

That is, until he wails and grips your thigh close in his claws.

"Wait, I want it to! Don't pull out, please don't, please don't pull out. I was so close," he slurs.

"Already?" Your face scrunches with disbelief.

"Uh huh," he nods furiously.

And just like that, your grandiose plans of discovering how much is too much for the glutton end up fizzling out.

"Figures you'd be into overstimulation," you roll your eyes, palm slapping once against his behind as you watch it go from fleshy peach to red. "Whore."

"Huh?" Keigo drools. He sounds like a lost puppy, brain too fuzzy to register a single word— well, other than whore, but that's only because that word made his cock feel kind of nice.

"Not gonna remember a damn word you said tomorrow, are you," you ask, watching him rock his hips in desperation, drowning in his own pleasure. "Too lost when you get fucked, huh, puppy?"

"Mm-mm," Keigo shakes his head furiously, blonde tufts sticking up like stray feathers. At the sight of it, you're overcome with a sudden urge to claw at his scalp.

"Mm! Love you," he adds for seemingly no reason when you yank his neck back by the roots, throat bobbing with his strained swallow.

Heart pounding like the percussion of a heavy metal drum with moans just as erotic, skin slick with sweat and cock wet with his own release; this is the man Keigo is reduced to as you take charge once more. You bully his prostate, thighs burning with effort and breath panting in his ear. Your left hand releases his scalp to grip his jaw and keep his back arched into your chest, while your right shamelessly milks his cock, fleshlight in hand.

It's too much. His moans are broken, climbing in pitch like a crescendo until the dam breaks and his mind shatters once more.

You know how loud Keigo can be. You're well aware, well prepared; yet, like every time you make him sob and scream when he cums, it travels between your legs like lightning, regardless.

After he collapses into the sheets, it takes Keigo ages to catch his breath. His body still shudders and twitches with the aftershocks of his orgasm, wings flapping twice before tucking against his shoulder blades, submissively.

There's drool on the pillowcase, you note; and it's been chewed to bits.

When you pull out, he gasps. You rub the tip against his twitching rim in an attempt to soothe him, and his gasp settles into a sigh.

"Good?" You're out of breath, yourself, when you dare to ask. "You look like you lost one of your nine lives, for a second."

"Eh, it was alright," he smirks. "Could you do it again? I wasn't paying attention."

"Shut the fuck up," you slam the pillow against his side. "You're such a brat."

"You love it," Keigo teases, rolling onto his back and stretching. He exposes his belly. Blissfully comfortable, fucked-out, and entirely satiated.

His eyes nevertheless catch between your legs as you unbuckle the strap and let it fall unceremoniously. He wets his lip and swallows, pupils dilating.

"C'mere," Keigo says, making grabby hands. Expectant, he shifts in eager anticipation, settling into an acceptably comfortable position as you place your thighs on either side of his head— he won't be moving for quite some time, after all.

"Oh," you add, pretending as if you suddenly remembered something. "And Keigo?"

"Mhm?" He hums, craning his neck toward your core, eager to lap himself another helping to fill.

"Happy birthday, baby."

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY KEIGO 🥳🥳🥳#🖋 writing #🌶 spice #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #smut #x reader

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ataraxiaspainting · 8 months ago

Text

Old Friend.

Yan Kenjaku x F Reader x Yan Geto.

Synopsis: The stranger looks all too familiar, aside from three peculiar mannerisms. How his fingers creep along the table’s edge. How his voice is too soft, too kind, and not at all cruel. How there are black stitches on his forehead.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, misogyny, use of the word monkey, and descriptions of past physical/mental abuse.

Word Count: 900.

*~*~*~*

Flattery comes out from Suguru’s mouth one sentence at a time, the words themselves soothing but the tone not so. After being dressed in clothes you picked out, after being presented with food you loved before captivity, you feel as though you were just revived… reborn. This feeling is foreign and isn’t let into your heart all at once, but little bit by little bit, because you know that Suguru’s gifts are often never superficial, but you also know how fast Suguru’s temper can spew once he has had enough of your antics.

On your knees, that demand is always accompanied by Suguru’s pointer finger facing down to the floor, monkey.

Somehow that collar consistently finds its way into Suguru’s right hand, even without one of his servants giving it to him.

But yet, here and now, you don’t feel the same ominous aura. It’s something darker. Something that for once isn’t directed at you, but the servants Suguru always treated well. So, would that make his aura lighter? You’re not sure. Similar to when it comes to Suguru’s moods and false smiles and truthful lies, you don’t know what to think.

“Master Geto?” You ask, looking past him to the balcony exit behind him. With all the candles put on the table, his face looks nearly fully illuminated, but the shadow covering his eyes is still there regardless.

“Yes, pet?” Suguru responds, his hands cupping his face as he looks at you.

“I…” You start, your thumbs caressing one another underneath the long white tablecloth. “Just wanted to thank you… that’s all.”

Suguru chuckles at that. No. Not a chuckle per se. Some sound unknown to you, or perhaps the identity of such was forgotten by you after so many years of being here kneeling at his feet on the floor like a trained mutt.

Speak.

I’m sorry, Master Geto.

Make it more desperate so I know you won’t make false vows unbefitting of my precious varmint. I’ll even help you. What happens when a dog attempts to hurt its owner?

“Don’t worry about it, [First] dear. You deserve a dinner such as this, for you deserve to celebrate too.” He has never said your name other than when he is displeased with you, so him doing such makes you wince. Suguru takes another sip of his sake, not paying much mind to your innate actions.

They get hit back, Master Geto.

Then what will happen to them next time, if they do it again?

Something will break.

“You look quite divine tonight,” He says, using his knife to split his remaining steak into quarters. He stabs one of the pieces with his fork and chews on it without making much noise.

“Uh…”

“Everything about you is quite beautiful… I can see you becoming my wife one day after all of this is over. That is, if you continue to be so cute and defenseless, it’s your place after all.”

What kind of thing? Speak up.

Anything. A bone… Something they like… Their spirit…

Correct… and what is that thing covering your hand?

“You’re not really eating, dearest… Is something the matter?” He asks. You find yourself questioning if Suguru's concern is genuine. After all, he has faked empathy towards you before, so this wouldn't be the first time.

“No, no… It’s good.” In order to avoid his anger, you proceed to fill your mouth with sake and sesame rice. This amuses him. Does he find your desperation endearing? That would be in character for him, now that you think about it.

A cast, Master Geto.

And what did you do to earn such a thing?

You… broke my hand, after I tried to use the pieces of that broken bedroom window to stab you.

“I’m happy you’re enjoying it.” He grins, leaning in closer. “I have an offer for you. How about we go outside for a walk after this? It has been quite some time since you have seen the full moon, hasn’t it?”

Finally, you can envision a vast expanse of twinkling stars right before your eyes. In the realm of dreams, they reside so near, immune to fading or descending. But you ponder if reality holds the same allure. It has been an eternity since you were last allowed to venture outdoors. Oh, how you yearn for a glimpse of the sky once more.

Tell me, do you think you earned such a thing?

…Yes.

Good. It seems you’re learning.

But the temptation stopped as fast as it came. Dread replaces it in an instant.

This man isn’t Suguru. You know that much for certain. With every hell he has put you through, you have come to know him and his mannerisms. Those mannerisms are nothing like this man. The thought scares you. Is this man a curse, the same kind Suguru uses against you after every escape attempt? Or is he just a normal man who is acting like him as a placeholder of some sort?

Where… is Suguru?

“...Why are there stitches on your forehead?”

#aya abstractions #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere geto #yandere geto x reader #yandere geto suguru #yandere suguru geto #geto x reader #yandere suguru #getou suguru x reader #yandere kenjaku #yandere kenjaku x reader #kenjaku x reader

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till-the-end-official · 16 days ago

Note

Ivan paces around his room as his sister stares at him in lesbian judgement. He really doesn't want to hear it from her, but she speaks anyway.

"Ivan. Till is not going to care what you wear on this date. Till already dresses like Adam Sandler on a regular basis. His idea of 'dressing nice' is probably being fully punked out. I think you'll be fine."

Ivan groans into his hands. His sister was right, but he'll never say that out loud. He sighs and goes back into the closet (lmao) and just picks his favorite outfit. He even got a matching cap and sunglasses for the outfit to hide himself in public.

"Noona, do you think he'd kill me if I took him somewhere too nice?"

"Yes."

Her speaking without hesitation definitely meant that she was 100% sure and also correct.

Ivan pouts and grumbles under his breath. He then gets a brilliant idea and gasps out loud.

"Oh my god, karaoke! It's literally that easy. Both of us are good at it... or well good at singing- and we can also order drinks and book a private room."

Sua regards him with vague amusement. She huffs fondly before standing up, making her way out of the house.

"Yeah. That works, just don't start making out in the booth. Unfortunately, there are cameras. Me and Mizi found out the hard way."

Ivan's face lights up in flames at the idea of making out with Till before the rest of the comment registers in his head.

"Wait you and Mizi-?!?"

Sua's already booked it out his apartment. Ivan has half the mind to chase her, but he has a date to get ready for.

Till, on the other hand, was freaking out. He was on call with Mizi, practically hyperventilating, as he dismantled his entire closet.

"Till, calm down. You're overthinking this. Ivan finds you so attractive as is- he would find you attractive in a potato sack. Calm down."

These words did not assure Till at all, his mind was set into panic mode. He threw outfit after outfit onto his bed, making his bedroom seem like a clothing store was blown up. He had NEVER put this much effort into how he looks, and it was reminding him just how simple his outfits were. He wasn't one to care about what he wore on dates, he usually just threw on whatever he felt like, but this time it was different. Everything about this date felt different.

"I-I still want to look somewhat presentable! Just because he may like whatever I wear doesn't mean I shouldn't put any effort into it!"

Till has never sounded more distressed in his life, and Mizi only ended up giggling as she watched her senior freak out over what to wear. She knew that deep down, whatever Till chose Ivan would drool over him in, but it was very sweet seeing Till put this much thought into his outfit.

"How about the outfit you wore to the Beat Rider event? The one with your black ripped jeans and leather jacket?"

Till had no energy to think of anything different, so he decided to go with that. While he was grabbing his clothes, he also grabbed some silver rings and earrings to go along with it. He threw on a simple blue crewneck, quickly putting a silver chain and another necklace with a lock around his neck before throwing on his hooded leather jacket. He put on his pair of black ripped jeans before quickly lacing up his Doc Martins.

"Do you think this looks good?"

Till asked, turning his camera on and showing Mizi the outfit. Mizi gasped, despite it being the outfit she suggested, and nodded excitedly.

"You look great! I'm sure Ivan is going to love it."

Right as the pink-hair actress said that, the sound of Till's doorbell going off could be heard.

"Speak of the devil... Thank you, Mizi."

"No problem at all! Just remember to be safe!"

Before Till could ask what she meant by that, Mizi hung up. He groaned quietly to himself before quickly grabbing a facemask and a pair of sunglasses just incase he needed them. He quickly ran out of his room, shoving his phone in his pocket before opening the door.

As soon as Till registered Ivan, he slammed the door on his face, his cheeks flushing up as he had a mini gay panic.

'Oh my god- we're going out and he looks like THAT?! I might have to wear my mask the entire time oh my god. He can't just SURPRISE me like that- I knew he was attractive but like I've never slammed the door before- wait! Oh shit!'

Till hurriedly opened the door again, cursing under his breath as he looked at Ivan. His face was even hotter than before he slammed the door, so he must look like a fucking apple right now. God... he felt so embarrassed. He would be surprised if Ivan didn't mistake him for a sundried tomato right now.

#actor till is literate #alien stage #alnst #alien stage rp #alnst rp

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baronessblixen · 5 months ago

Note

I wish you would write a fic where mulder falls asleep on skinner’s shoulder

Another ficlet! Gonna tag @today-in-fic this time 😁

“Is your son all right?” Skinner lifts his eyes to the nurse; one he hasn’t seen before. She’s young, her smile genuine, and her eyes curiously big. He’s tired. Not as tired as the man sitting next to him, whose head keeps ending up on his shoulder.

The first few times it happened, Mulder startled awake, his expression haunted, and apologized. Now, his head is on Skinner’s shoulder, his breath as even as it can be. If he weren’t so tired, or if Mulder were awake, maybe he’d correct the nurse. After the day they’ve all had, he has no strength left.

“His wife is- she’s not well.” It’s a white lie. Mulder and Scully may not be married on paper, but they are in every other way that counts. Once upon a time, Skinner felt the sting of jealousy seeing what they have. Now, he’s glad they have each other.

“I’m so sorry,” the nurse says. “Do you want me to go check on her? What’s her name?”

“Dana Scully.” Skinner keeps his voice soft so that he won’t wake Mulder. He should have known better; her name penetrates his sleepy mind and he blinks open his eyes.

“Is she- Dana Scully? Is she out of surgery?”

“I will check on your wife. I’ll be right back.” Her shoes squeak as she walks off. Mulder shakes his head, trying to wake up.

“My wife?” he asks Skinner, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. Skinner is going to keep to himself that the nurse thought Mulder is his son. That’s for himself to deal with. He’s a mere 15 years older than Mulder. Right now, though, he sees it. He looks like a boy. One who’s scared to lose another person he loves, unable to stop it from happening. Again.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” He changes the subject, hoping Mulder won’t press.

“No, I- I need to know how Scully is before I… before anything else.” The man needs a meal and sleep, preferably in a bed and not a hospital chair. Even if he threatened Mulder, Skinner knows he won’t leave here.

Before he can say another word, the nurse returns. His heart skips a beat until her face transforms into a big smile.

“Good news,” she says. “Your wife is out of surgery.”

“Is she-”

“She’s stable. She’s going to be just fine.” Mulder folds in on himself hearing the words and Skinner puts a hand on his back. “Is he-”

“He’s fine,” Skinner says, meaning it. “It has been a long day.”

“She’s going to make it,” Mulder mumbles, sounding almost delirious.

“She is,” Skinner assures him. “And I’m sure she wants to see you when she wakes up. How about you go home, take a shower and sleep?” He has to try. He knows that Scully would would want him to at least do that. Mulder just laughs humorlessly.

“You know I won’t.”

“The sit back down,” he says, aware that it sounds like an order. Mulder glares at him. “You’ve been using my shoulder as a pillow. Come on.”

“You sound as crazy as I do, sir.”

“Come on.” Another moment passes, but Mulder sits down. A minute passes and Skinner pretends to read the magazine he got hours ago. Maybe he’ll take that quiz again, the one that promises to tell you why you can’t ever keep a man. A sigh from the right, and then a soft weight on his shoulder. Mulder sleeps and Skinner keeps watch.

#i know these weren't supposed to be prompts #but like i have written two ficlets and that means the WORLD to me #so thank you #xf fanfic

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writtenbysprout · 2 years ago

Text

I don't hate you

synopsis: Your boss, Aaron Hotchner, has made a point to make sure you know just how much he hates you. But the one time it goes to far, you confront him.

pairing: aaron hotchner x BAU!reader

word count: ca 1200

cw: swearing, jealousy, unfair treatment, somehow there's pining in here (don't ask how, it just happened.)

You had just found a seat at the precinct, allowing yourself a moment of quiet. The smallest of breathers before the inevitable would come. And just as you let out a sigh you heard the all to familiar sound of your boss approaching. Derek following suit behind him.

In a swift motion Hotch slammed the door closed, leaving the three of you alone in the room.

"You just had to go rouge, didn't you!?" Hotch was the first to speak up as he towered over you, arms crossed over his chest, the ever present frown plastered to his face.

You try to mutter a reply, but as always he cuts you off, leaving no room for explanation.

"You put both your life and agent Morgan's life on the line for something that might've worked." His tone felt like daggers poking at you, making sure you felt every rift and scratch they left.

Up until now Hotch's nagging about your every flaw hadn't gotten too you. But something about his tone and reasoning today just didn't sit right with you. Perhaps that was what gave you the extra courage you needed to make yourself heard. Regardless of the cause you spoke up.

"It worked, we got the guy." You said, calmly at first.

"That's beside the point! You made an irrational decision that could've been fatal." Hotch was quick to pick up, discarding your argument. His eyes a fiery fury of rage. "He could've had a gun, or a bomb or.."

"But we profiled him as a.."

"The profile isn't always correct! You of all people should know that, being a profiler." Hotch cut you off again, not even bother to let you finish.

Morgan, who up until now had stood there in disbelief, straightened up, relieving you of some attention. "Hotch I think you.."

Hotch was quick to cut him off, glaring in his direction. "This does not concern you Agent Morgan, you can leave."

Morgan was about to argue, but was met with another glare and Hotch's infamous words; "that's an order, agent."

Morgan shakes his head with a scuff. As he reaches for the door you see the resentment in his eyes. He felt for you, but there was nothing he could do. The boss had spoken and his orders was to be obeyed no matter how ridiculous.

Watching Morgan exit, you pushed yourself up form the chair, feeling the whole situation fuel you. You stood as tall as you could, wanting to present yourself as someone to be taken seriously.

“What have I done to make you hate me?” You snap, finally allowing yourself to ask the question that's been on your mind ever since you started.

For a split second you can swear you notice a flicker of confusion in Hotch's eyes, but before you can make anything out of it his harsh glare returns.

“I don’t hate you.” he scoff.

“Bull-fucking-shit Hotchner and you know it.”

“I stand my ground.” he shrugs, not allowing you the satisfaction of having caught him on something. Even though you knew very well he was lying.

“I just don’t understand. I never get into trouble like Prentiss does. I don’t argue with you like Morgan. I do my job without asking details. Hell, I even put up with all the verbal abuse you throw at me every day! So if I have done something please let me know, cause I’m clueless.” Your voice faded into a plea. Wishing nothing more than to have some peace of mind and not have to tiptoe around him at every waking moment.

“I don’t hate you." He persists, yet this time is different. He sighs as if to continue, but you don’t care at this point. All you want is to know why he hated you. Why he put you through something you’d fought years and years to get away from with yourself.

"Then why do you act like it?! I've done nothing but obey orders, never once straying from them."

"That's exactly why! You're good!," Hotch yells, but quickly compose himself speaking more softly, "You're too good..”

You mind falters. It's torn into a million different questions, but quiets momentarily as he continues.

"You're right in that I hate you." he admits, but the look in his eyes tells a whole other story. "I hate you for how you make me feel. I hate that I want nothing but to be close too you all the time, comfort you when I see a case takes a toll on you. I wanna be the reason you smile when you look at your phone, reading a stupid text. I wanna be the person you look for in a room full of people.”

“But you are!" Your closed fist pound into his chest with little to no force, mostly out of frustration of him being complete and utterly oblivious to your subtle hints. His hand takes a hold of your wrist in a tight grip and with a yank he pulls you closer. "You've always been..."

You feel yourself dangerously close to him, yet somehow not close enough.

“Then who is texting you?” His next words was spoken through gritted teeth and you couldn't help but notice the venomous jealousy dripping off his voice.

“Emily," When the name of is subordinate escape you lips you can tell the machinery in the great mind of his are turning. "She keeps sending me pictures of Sergio, her cat, and I just find him adorable, ‘n they calm me down if I’m having a rough day or a hard case.”

“So all this time.." He lets go of your wrist, sinking down in his shoes. "I’ve been jealous of a cat?”

You send him the look. The one saying well-du-uh!

He steps back, unsure of how to continue. It was clear to him that he had fucked up - massively.

How could he have been so blind? Looking back he'd found all the times you were there, simply there for him. Never once asking for anything in return.

And what had he done in return? He'd given you hell every waking moment during your day. He'd treated you like you were his biggest flaw, and still you managed to show him compassion?

He couldn't recall a single time you hadn't shown him the kindness of your nature, regardless of his cruel ways. You'd time and time offer smiles and wished him 'good morning' each morning, never once straying from it.

In his mind you'd already made up your mind about him, which made it all the more easy for him to keep you at an arms length. But he could see now that he was mistaken. And knew he'd regret it for the rest of his if he didn't try to mend this somehow.

So he said the only thing that came to mind, praying it'd somehow fix things.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

"Sorry's not gonna cut it, Hotch."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watched him closely as he did something you thought you'd ever see him do.

He got down on his knees. Eyes never straying from yours. His next words chosen carefully, "Then tell me how I can make it up too you, I'll do anything."

"I have a few things in my mind."

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch #criminal minds #cm #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n

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georgeclarkewifey · 6 months ago

Text

Inconvenience | g.clarke

Chapter 4: Tough Day

Summary: The boys try and help Noa with a new project

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: swearing, George being a dick (again)

Roughly a week or so had passed since Noa moved into her new apartment, and her hopes that George would warm up to her hadn’t been achieved yet.

Even though she spent most evenings with the boys, he would still only talk to her if the others were there, and whenever he could he avoided her at all costs.

It was beginning to bother Noa. She couldn’t understand why he was acting this way towards her, and after thorough discussions with his other roommates, they confirmed that she hadn’t done or said anything to cause this behaviour.

Luckily, Arthur Hill and her got on like a house on fire, and being one of the better housemates at DIY, he aided in building most of her new furniture whenever he wasn’t recording a video or working on his new song.

“So when’s it coming out? I feel as if I can only listen to the same sound bite before I go crazy.” Noa said, glancing up from her laptop to look at Arthur, who was sitting on her kitchen counter.

“Should be done in a couple of weeks, just trying to iron out the wrinkles and sort the bridge out.” He replied, taking a long swig of tea out of the mug that she had leant him. “What are you working on? I feel as I can hear your brain whirring.”

Noa grumbled and massaged her temples. It was moments like these that she wished she had an influencer job, with complete creative freedom and a flexible schedule, instead of her gruelling 9-6. “Trying to find as many different types of ancient column design as possible. Well, not too ancient because the clients want their building to look modern enough.”

Arthur gave her a sympathetic look. “You really are bottom of the food chain in your firm aren’t you?”

“Yep. That’s what you get when you’re the new kid, all the tasks that no one else wants.”

“But at least you’re not having to make coffee and do paperwork right?” He asked hopefully.

Noa raised her eyebrows at him. “Why do you think I’m having to do this at home, and not in the office.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.” She muttered, scrolling through another page of Grecian inspired pillars. “Honestly, sometimes rich people have too much money to spend. I mean, who needs a foyer with the three types of alternating pillars, that match the fountains? Do you know how expensive that is Arthur?”

He winced. “I’m guessing a lot.”

“Correct.”

“Noa!” Chris yelled, swinging the door open. “You, me, George and the two Arthurs and the club. Yes?”

“Chris, it’s a Thursday night.”

“Exactly! Thursday night, do you have anything better to do?”

Noa blinked at him. “Be up in the morning with ample amount of sleep ready for work?”

“God I forget you have a boring actual job.”

“Someone has to remind you guys there’s an actual world out there.” She muttered, typing quickly on her computer, eyes widening as her stomach let out a low growl.

Chris and Arthur slowly turned their heads to look at her. “Okay, new plan. Order takeout and watch a movie?”

“I could be up for that.” She said quietly, absentmindedly chewing on the end of her pen, before going to jot down some notes. “Just need to finish working.”

Chris’ eyebrows raised. “And when will that be?”

“Before the end of time.” Noa said. “Or at least I hope so. I’ve gotta figure out the best combination of these pillars and then I’ll be done.”

“And how many combinations are there?”

“Well there’s eight main types, but then there’s different patterns within those. I might have actually lost count.”

Chris moved so that he could peer over Noa’s shoulder, and winced at the number of tabs open she had on her computer, as well as the scribbles that adorned her notebook.

“Gonna be honest. I’ve got no clue at what looks good. But I believe in you Noa, if anyone could figure it out it’s you.” He said reassuringly, patting her head. “Right, Hill let’s order food, at this point in time Noa will probably eat whatever we put in front of her, so what are we feeling up for?”

arthurhill

liked by arthurtv, maxbalegde and 28,039 others

arthurhill everyone drop your favourite pillars and columns to help with Noa’s latest design

Comments open

fan1 everyone knows the correct answer is doric

⮑ fan2 booo temple of winds supremacy

maxbalegde scared and confused at this comment section

⮑ noamurphy they’re all just architecture nerds like me

arthurtv correct answer is ionic

⮑ noamurphy no it isn’t I promise

⮑ arthurtv one day you’ll see

⮑ noamurphy sure. also we’re getting take out if you wanna join

⮑ arthurtv I am running to the elevator

fan3 noa in the ikea vlog is everything 😫🤌🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 she is a divine queen

⮑ fan3 her and George in the bed 🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 nooo that was the most forced and uncomfortable thing I couldn’t with it-

gkbarry_ we stan a hardworking queen

⮑ noamurphy love you boo

⮑ gkbarry_ okay now girlie take a break

“Okay Noa, maybe take Grace’s advice and stop? Surely it would be better to rest up and then be able to finish it when you’re not exhausted?” Chris asked gently, reaching to slide the laptop away from her grip.

Noa glared at him and swatted his hands away. “No Christopher. No.”

Chris gave her a stern look, only looking away when the door slammed open again, revealing Arthur Television in his pyjama trousers and hoodie. “Food, when?”

“The one with the law degree decides to speak like a caveman.” Chris muttered, shaking his head, as a much calmer George walked through the door.

Walking into her apartment, George was hit with the realisation that he’d never been in Noa’s apartment before - she’d always been at theirs, or if Chris and Arthur where heading down he’d give the excuse that he was busy planning videos.

He was pleasantly surprised. Well, he didn’t exactly know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t a light and airy apartment. Maybe he thought there would be neon lights everywhere, like the ones that adorned Chris’ room or stacks of books like Arthur.

The living room was cosy, and he recognised the two sofas that they had picked out in Ikea, as well as a plush rug, with a coffee table that matched the dining table and chairs. A couple of pictures adorned the walls, a simple beach watercolour as well as some cinematic shots of her playing football with Arthur and Chris.

His brow furrowed. Neither of them mentioned that she played, and since she’d arrived they had filmed a football video for Chris’ channel, but she didn’t take part. Surely if Noa was good enough to warrant her to have photos of her playing, then surely Chris would want that talent in his videos?

George cast his eyes to Noa, who was hunched over her laptop, still trying to finish the designs. Arthur TV sat next to her, and the pair were discussing which column designs worked the best together.

“Maybe that person was onto something bringing temple of winds into the conversation…what if you put them with some Doric pillars, then…” Arthur trailed off, stumped.

“You see? Finding two designs that go together is easy, but a third? A fucking third?” Noa sighed, resting her head on the keyboard.

“How rich are the clients, ie, what’s the budget?”

“Yeah, are they Ronaldo rich, or so rich that you’ve probably never heard of them?” Arthur Hill asked.

“The second one.” She muttered. “Which is why it has to be perfect, because they are paying us a lot.”

Noa sighed and pulled up the designs of the fountains that had been chosen. She studied them meticulously, trying to find a hint that could help her. Even though it was strenuous work, this was one of the reasons that loved designing buildings, once you found all the right pieces, it perfectly fell into place like a puzzle. It was incredibly satisfying, and seeing the final projects always made her heart swell with pride.

But this was really trying her patience. Why couldn’t she figure it out? It didn’t also help that she had a live audience watching her stress over it. “Do you know when the food’s getting here?”

“Should be about five minutes.”

“Thank god.”

“Oh never mind, the guys here.” Chris said, slipping his shoes on, that had been previously abandoned by the door. “Arthur can you help carry it?”

“Sure.” Both of them replied, following Chris out of the door, leaving George alone with Noa.

She was silently cursing the three that had just left, physically wishing all the curses and ailments upon them for leaving her with George. Who, was silently leaning against her kitchen counter.

George didn’t know what to do. Ever since the trip to Ikea he hadn’t been close to Noa again, not that he wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if he should mention it. Why should he? If she hadn’t mentioned it then surely she was fine, right?

Not that he even wanted to talk to her.

George couldn’t fully see into Noa’s room, most is it being blocked by the angle at which he was looking in, and from what he could tell, it was just like the rest of the apartment, except with more decorations. He wasn’t sure why, but he was curious about what was inside, how Noa had organised her bookcase, what perfumes she used, how she kept her jewellery, the way her plans laid out on her sketching desk.

And he didn’t know why.

As far as he was concerned he actively disliked Noa, and so he couldn’t fathom why a part of him was so interested in her, why he wanted to know the little details of her life.

Noa closed her eyes. She was genuinely considering giving up, but she knew she couldn’t. This had to be finished that evening so that it could be sent to her supervisor ready for the next morning. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and paced into her bedroom, unknown to her that George’s eyes followed her every step, hoping that one of her books would provide her with some inspiration.

But it wasn’t any of her architecture books that caught her eye. It was the battered copy of the third Percy Jackson book - it was her favourite of the series, and would read it religiously as a child. Partially, as a child it was her dream to become a Hunter of Artemis, and so she could read the book over and over again without tiring of it.

Somehow, this was the prompt she needed to let the puzzle pieces fall into place. “OH MY GOD!” She exclaimed, sprinting out of her room and skidding on the wooden floor to the table. Noa grinned whilst nearly destroying her keyboard at how quickly she was typing.

“FOOOOD!” Chris called, carrying the plastic bags and setting them down in front of Noa.

“Dude give me two minutes I’ve figured it out.”

“Really?” Arthur TV asked excitedly, pulling the chair next to her out, so he could see what she was working on. “Caryatids? Noa that’s genius! They match the f-“

“Fountains yeah, because they’ve got marble women carved into them, and so they’d match perfectly.”

“Have we ever said you’re a genius?” Chris asked, smiling proudly at her.

“Only when I do genius shit.”

#arthur frederick #arthur hill #chris dixon #chris md #george clarke fics #george clarke imagine #george clarkey #george clarkey x reader #uk youtubers #youtube

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