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requiemforthepoets · 3 months ago

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you’re such a rollercoaster, some killer queen you are 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: it was a random encounter at a club in miami during lando’s first win and all he has to remind him of you was a polaroid.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i’m now done with my midterms, finally! i’ll be posting the requests soon. for the meantime, pls enjoy this lando oneshot i made. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, reader has a full back tattoo, cursing, and no use of y/n

It’s finally the summer break, a month away from all university obligations. As the summer break kicks off, you find yourself in the vibrant heart of Miami, ready to enjoy the nightlife that awaits you with your best friends. The hotel room was filled with laughter and sounds of hurried preparations, with all of your excitement evident. In front of the mirror, you admired yourself in the silk black backless dress that definitely accentuates your figure, the fabric of the dress falling just right to showcase your stunning full Sak Yant tattoo that you had gotten on your last trip to Cambodia. It was a daring choice, but you loved the way it felt, and the dress paired effortlessly with your trusty white low-cut chucks—a perfect blend of style and comfort for the night ahead. Your friends squealed in approval of your whole fit, each one hyping how amazing you looked.

“Are we ready to paint the town red?” One of them chimed, a teasing grin plastered on her face.

“Absolutely! Let’s make the most of this summer!” You replied, excitement bubbling in your chest.

The first club was already buzzing when you arrived, its lively atmosphere spilling out onto the street. It was packed—it was way more crowded than you had anticipated, and the thumping bass reverberated through your chest, the energy was electric. But as always, you and your friends pushed through the throngs of people, determined to start the night off right. You managed to snag a table near the dance floor, which is also quite close to the DJ booth. You could feel the energy of the crowd surge, especially when the DJ began playing the iconic beats of 2011 club hits.

The moment we found love by Rihanna started playing, you and your friends erupted in cheers, and memories of late-night dance parties flooding back. This song was your jam and you guys won’t let this pass, so you grabbed your friends’ hands and rushed to the dance floor. All the people began to sing along to the song at the top of their lungs, including you, and losing yourself in the infectious energy that surrounded you.

In the midst of your carefree dancing, you suddenly felt a gentle yet firm grip on your waist that made you turn. You found yourself face-to-face with an incredibly handsome man—his curly hair framed a sharp jawline, his aquamarine eyes sparkled under the flashing lights, and a small, charming smile played on his lips. You noticed that he’s a little bit tipsy, evident by his slight sway, but still managed to maintain a charming composure with an air of confidence.

“Your tattoo is incredible.” He leaned down to whisper it in your ears. His voice was low and warm, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks as you blushed, momentarily lost for words.

“Thanks!” You shouted over the loud noise for him to hear you, but not really sure if he heard you or not.

Just then, your friend—the one who always photographs, had tapped your shoulder, her polaroid camera ready. She aimed it at you, and without thinking, you turned to the handsome stranger, flashing a playful smile as your friend pressed the shutter button. The photo was developed quickly, perfectly capturing the moment, and she handed it to you with a knowing look. An idea suddenly sparked in your mind, and you quickly rummaged through your friend’s bag.

“Hey, do you have a pen that I could borrow?” You asked, almost breathless with excitement.

She handed you a sharpie, raising an eyebrow but not questioning your sudden burst of creativity at the moment. You wrote a quick “thank you” on the empty space of the polaroid, signing it with the initial of your first name with a flourish before slipping it into the pocket of the white polo the stranger was wearing. The stranger looked surprised, a mix of confusion and excitement on his face, but he simply smiled back, his eyes lighting up as he reached for you.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name—” before he could finish his sentence, your friend pulled you in your arm, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “time to hit the next club!” She called, pulling you away.

You turned back at the stranger, waving him goodbye, feeling an unexpected pang of regret for leaving him behind. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that this night isn't over yet. You exchanged glances with him one last time, a silent promise hanging in the air, your heart fluttering with the hope that somehow, you’d see him again.

As you and your friends spilled out onto the bustling Miami street, your laughter filled the night as you headed to the next club. However, all you could think about was the brief connection you had felt on the dance floor, a sweet moment that seemed to linger in the air, leaving you yearning for more.

The night had ended in a blur for Lando. After the wild celebration of his first Formula 1 win in Miami, the euphoria was slowly dissipating and replaced by a wave of drunkenness that hit harder than he had expected. By the time the club lights dimmed and the crowd began to thin, Lando could barely stand on his own two feet, let alone string together a coherent sentence.

Max and Carlos had taken one look at him and immediately decided that they needed to step in. “C’mon mate, let’s get you back to the hotel,” Max grunted, slinging Lando’s arm over his shoulder, while Carlos grabbed the other side.

Carlos chuckled, equally amused and exasperated, “he kept pace with everyone at the party. Now he’s paying the price.”

Lando, wasted out of his mind, stumbled along between them, mumbling a mix of incoherent phrases. “She…she was…beautiful,” he slurred, eyes half-closed, as they maneuvered through the hotel lobby. “The tattoo…I need to…find her.”

Max raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with Carlos. “Who’s he talking about now?” Carlos asked, chuckling under his breath.

“Who knows? Maybe some random girl from the party,” Max shrugged, though the curiosity in his tone was undeniable. “You think he’s talking about some girl he met tonight?”

Carlos nodded, “definitely. He kept disappearing from the group. Bet it’s some girl who caught his eyes.”

They wrestled Lando into the elevator, which was a challenge in itself as Lando kept sagging against the walls. When they finally reached his hotel room, Carlos fumbled with the keycard, managing to get the door open while Max dragged Lando inside.

“Alright, bed time for you, champ.” Max muttered, carefully tossing Lando onto the bed. Lando landed face-first into the pillows, groaning something incomprehensible as he sprawled out, completely out of it.

As they started to leave, Carlos noticed something peeking out of Lando’s polo pocket. “Wait, hold on. What’s this?” He said, pulling out a small polaroid photo. He studied it for a moment before handing it to Max.

Max blinked, holding the picture up to the light. It was a snapshot of Lando at the club, with a girl smiling beside him. They were both smiling and looking like they were having the time of their lives, clearly caught up in the moment. Lando’s arm was around her waist, and she was beaming up at him.

“So this is who he’s been going on about, huh,” Max mused, smirking as he showed it to Carlos.

Carlos grinned, leaning closer to inspect the photo. “It has no name, no number on the back. Just the word thank you and a signature,” he said, pointing at the small initial written on the bottom corner of the polaroid.

Max gave a low whistle, eyes flicking to Lando, who had now turned onto his back, snoring loudly. “The way he’s looking at her, though…” Max said, shaking his head with an amused sigh. “Poor guy. He’ll surely lose his mind trying to find her again.”

“You think he’s going to go all in on this mystery girl?” Carlos asked, already imagining the chaos that could ensue once Lando wakes up.

“Oh, definitely. Look at that face—he’s going to lose his mind trying to find her.” Max chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“If he does, it’ll be entertaining for us. He might actually be serious about someone for once.” Carlos smirked.

Max laughed, tucking the polaroid back into Lando’s pocket. “Well, whatever happens, tomorrow’s going to be interesting for sure. But first, I’m betting his hangover’s going to be the real pain in the ass.”

“I second that.” Carlos clapped Max on the back as they both made their way to the door. “Let him sleep it off. If fate has any say in this, maybe he’ll see her again.”

Once Max and Carlos had managed to leave the room, the soft snores of their friend filled the silence behind them, but they couldn’t help but share one last grin. Lando Norris, hopelessly wasted and smitten, was in for one wild ride the moment he wakes up in the morning.

When Lando woke up the next day, it felt like the world had caved in on him. His head pounded relentlessly like a jackhammer, every inch of his body felt heavy, and the sunlight seeping through the curtains are making everything worse. He groaned, pressing a hand to his face as he tried to piece together the events of the previous night. His mouth even felt dry, and every muscle ached—classic hangover. Glancing at the clock, his stomach sank. It was already past one in the afternoon.

“Ah shit.” He muttered, rubbing his temples.

Lando’s memories was a total fucking mess. Fragments of the party slipping in and out of focus. All he remembered is that he was celebrating his first F1 win in a Miami club with a bunch of friends, music, drinks…too many drinks, clearly. But then, there was something, or rather, someone—who stood out in the haze. A girl.

The image of you on the dance floor flickered in his mind. Lando couldn’t quite place every detail of your face, but the memory of your presence lingered, the feeling of being inexplicably drawn to you. It was like trying to recall a dream that was slipping away. He just shook his head, trying to clear the fog.

Struggling out of the bed, he tugged off the polo he had been wearing from the night before. As he did, something fell on the floor. Lando blinked, looking down to see a small polaroid photo lying by his feet. He picked it up and stared, the image hitting him like a bolt of clarity. It was a photo of you and him at the club, your face being illuminated by the flashing lights, both of you are smiling. Suddenly, the blurry memory sharpened. He remembered you—your black backless dress, the intricate back tattoo, the way you turned when he approached you. You had been so close, yet before he could really get to know you, your friends had whisked you away, leaving him standing alone on the dance floor, with only the photo to show for it.

Lando’s heart skipped a beat as he flipped the polaroid over, hoping to find some kind of clue, a way to find you. But the back was just frustratingly blank, except for the written thank you and an initial on the free space of the polaroid. He ran a thumb over the handwritten words, feeling a pang of disappointment. There was basically no number, no name. It was all just a fleeting memory. He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“She’s probably just someone who came and went,” he muttered to himself, but even as he said it, the thought didn’t sit right.

There was something about the brief connection he felt with you that night, something that he couldn’t shake off. It was strange, almost unnerving, how much he remembered the feeling of being with you in that brief moment—like everything else had faded into the background.

Without fully understanding why, Lando grabbed his wallet and carefully tucked the polaroid photo into his wallet, sliding it into the hidden compartment where it could be safe. He wasn’t even sure why he decided to keep the polaroid, especially in such a personal place. It seemed silly, but it felt right to keep it there, like a small piece of that night he wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

Lando sat there for a few moments longer, staring at the closed wallet in his hand. The next race was in a week, and he had the time to get his shit together before flying to Italy for the Imola GP. But now, instead of just focusing on the upcoming race, his mind kept drifting back to you—wondering if you were still out there somewhere, wondering if he would ever get the chance to see you again. He finally stood up to get ready for the day and fly out of Miami, he couldn’t help but smirk at himself.

“Guess I’m going to be thinking about this for a while,” he muttered, the memory of your smile etched into his thoughts.

Miami was fun, and now it’s time to go back to reality. Once you got back home, the vibrant memories of the trip slowly started to fade into the background, already having been replaced by the familiar routine of gearing up for the new university year. This was it—your final year at university, the last stretch before graduation, and you are determined to give it your all. It was time to buckle down and focus on academics. After all, everything you had done in Miami was meant to stay in Miami.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried to immerse yourself in your studies, your mind would always reel back to that night in the club. The memory of the man you had met—his aquamarine eyes, the way he had looked at you like you were the only person in the room had kept replaying in your head, keeping you awake at night. It was frustrating how much he lingered in your thoughts. You had only known him for a brief moment, not even long enough to learn his name, yet you couldn’t forget the instant connection that had sparked between you.

The way he had complimented your tattoo, the way he had smiled when you slipped the polaroid into his polo pocket—it had all felt surreal, like something out of a dream, and then there was the polaroid. You literally had no idea why you had given it to him, that was the only physical memory of that night, the only proof that your paths had crossed. Yet, in the moment, it felt like what you did was the right thing to do. Or maybe it was the excitement, the adrenaline of the night you felt that had pushed you to make such a spontaneous decision. But now, you found yourself wondering if he had even kept it, or if it had ended up crumpled in some corner, forgotten in the blur of a party boy’s life.

You tried to push these lingering and uninvited thoughts aside. After all, he had seemed like the type who enjoyed the party scene, the kind of guy who was probably very used to fleeting moments like the one you had shared. You definitely have no reason to expect anything more from it. It was fun while it lasted—a brief, electric encounter in the middle of a packed club. Still, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if your friend hadn’t pulled you away so soon. Would you have stayed and talked more, gotten to know him beyond that brief moment on the dance floor? Or maybe it was better this way, a perfect memory left untouched by reality.

With a sigh, you snapped yourself back to the present, staring down at the pile of thick college textbooks and notebooks waiting for you. It was time to focus on what was real, what was tangible—your studies, your future. The man from Miami would remain just a distant memory, one that you would tuck away with all the other wild moments from your summer. After all, you had more important things to focus on now.

Still, every now and then, as you walked to your lectures or sat in the library, you would catch yourself thinking about him—wondering if he still had that polaroid tucked away somewhere, just like you secretly hoped he did.

Lando was no better. Ever since that night in Miami, his mind has been drifting more than usual. He found himself distracted during meetings, zoning out during race prep, and even spacing out in the garage most of the time. His usual easy going demeanor was now often replaced by a more serious, almost contemplative expression. It was as if something had taken root in his mind, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it, the memory of you wouldn’t let go.

He had replayed that night over and over again in his mind—the moment he saw you, how he had felt an unexplainable pull towards you, the way you had smiled when he complimented your tattoo, and how effortlessly everything had seemed to click between you in that brief encounter. It was ridiculous, really, how hung up he had become over someone he barely even knew. He hadn’t even caught your name—and yet, the polaroid was still inside his wallet, tucked away like a secret he carried with him everywhere he went.

Whenever he felt particularly lost in thought, he’d pull it out and stare at it, trying to remember every detail of your face, laugh, and the way you looked at him. He was becoming a lovesick fool. But that only made it worse—like he had been shot by cupid, now hopelessly stuck in this strange limbo of longing for someone who felt like a distant memory. The problem was, he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. But now, half of the grid knew about the mysterious girl in the polaroid. It had all started with Oscar.

Lando had been so deep in his dilemma that he couldn’t contain it anymore and had to vent about it, and Oscar, being a good listener, and always the voice of reason, had been the unfortunate recipient of Lando’s endless stream of confusion and longing.

“Mate, I don’t even know where to start looking,” Lando groaned one afternoon, slumping into a chair next to Oscar. They were in the motorhome, waiting for a debrief. “She didn’t even leave her name, no number, nothing. Just…this. I don’t even know why I’m so hung up on this! It was just one night.” He pulled out the polaroid for what felt like the hundredth time, showing it again to Oscar.

“Well, that tends to happen when you let Max and Carlos feed you shots all night. You’re lucky that you remember anything.” Oscar teased, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“That’s not helping.” Lando shot him a look, half amused and half exasperated. “I just—there was something about her, you know? It wasn’t just the drinks. I felt this connection, and then she was gone.”

“You really got hit hard, didn’t you?” Oscar chuckled.

“You have no idea, Osc,” Lando muttered, running a hand through his curly hair in frustration. “I mean, what are the odds, right? A random night in Miami, and now…I can't stop thinking about her. What’s wrong with me?”

Oscar chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Hey, nothing’s wrong with you. You just like her, I guess. A lot.” He glanced at the polaroid again, shaking his head in amusement. “You’ve got the entire grid buzzing about this by now, you know. Everyone’s rooting for you to find her.”

“Great. So now everyone’s invested in my love life too.” Lando groaned, leaning his head back.

“You did show them the photo,” Oscar pointed out with a grin. “It’s hard not to get curious when you’ve been carrying that thing around like a lovesick fool.”

“I know it’s stupid, but it feels like more than just a random encounter. There was something there, Oscar. I swear.” Lando let out a dramatic sigh, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“So what are you going to do? Just sit around and hope she magically walks into the next race?” Oscar leaned back in his seat.

“I was thinking that maybe, I could hire a private investigator or something, you know.” Lando shrugged.

Oscar’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A private investigator? Tell me you’re joking.” Lando’s expression remained serious. “No, I’m not! Or, I could just post the photo online, let the fans do their thing. They could help me find her—someone has to know who she is.”

Oscar pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Lando, mate, listen to me.” He turned to Lando, face serious. “You’re out of your mind. You can’t hire a PI or ask your fans to find this girl. Think about how creepy that sounds.”

“But how else am I supposed to find her! I can’t even stop thinking about her, Oscar. I didn’t even get her name, and now I’m stuck.” Lando groaned again.

“Mate, if you’re meant to find her, you will. You can’t force something like this, and you definitely shouldn’t involve the internet.” Oscar sighed. “Just let it go for now. Focus on the races, and if it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.” He added.

Lando sat in silence for a moment, staring at the polaroid again. As much as he hated to admit it, Oscar was right. He couldn’t exactly post the photo online and hope for the best—that would be absolute madness and would really violate your privacy. But letting it go? That shit felt realy impossible.

“Yeah, I guess.” Lando muttered.

Lando tucked the polaroid carefully back into his wallet. He knew deep down, he wasn’t really ready to let go of the idea of finding you again. Even if it seemed impossible.

More months passed by, and life had already moved on, but the memory of that night in Miami still lingered in your mind—and in Lando’s too. The connection, however, had left an impression on both of you, though neither expected to cross paths again. You had already given up any hope of seeing him again, and had decided to leave it all to fate. If it’s meant to be, then it’ll be. Besides, life has been busy enough for you. With your final year at university, you had too much on your plate to spend time wondering about a man whose name you still didn’t know. But it seems like fate had other plans in store for the both of you.

It started when you had a week off from university, and you and your best friends decided to go on a trip to Greece over your week off. You have no qualms about it, since you really needed a break as well, and what better way to relax than exploring the beautiful beaches and Acropolis of Athens.

The trip to Greece was everything you had hoped for, but unbeknownst to you, Lando was in Greece too, enjoying his own vacation with his close friends. You were sunbathing on a pristine beach, chatting away with your friends, when Lando walked by just a few meters away. He didn’t notice you, and you didn’t see him either—both of you are too caught up in your own worlds, yet there you were, so close but so far away.

The second time was when you took a trip to Ibiza. Another spontaneous getaway with your best friends. The vibrant nightlife and endless summer energy called your name. As you danced and had the time of your life at a beachside club, oblivious to the fact that Lando was just at a private party down the shore. His friends had dragged him out for the night, hoping to help him unwind after a tough race. You and your friends left just as Lando was arriving, two paths almost crossing once again.

It was starting to become a strange pattern—wherever you were, Lando seemed to be there too. The two of you had shared the same sunsets, wandered the same winding streets, and probably passed by each other without even realizing it.

The third time was in Monaco. A beautiful city, with its glamor and breathtaking views, it was the perfect escape before starting your last semester. You and your friends are strolling down the harbor one afternoon, laughing as you all pointed at the massive yachts that were all lined up, imagining what it would be like to live such a luxurious life.

Inside a nearby café, Lando was sitting by the window, sipping on a coffee and looking out over the same harbor. He had been restless, unable to shake the feeling that he was missing something—or someone. He looked up just as you and your friends passed by outside, laughing and taking selfies by the water, but you did not look his way, and he didn’t get up, assuming it was just another passing group of tourists. Once again, fate brought you together, only to keep you just out of reach.

It was as though the universe was playing a cruel game, constantly bringing you and Lando to the same place at the same time, but never allowing your paths to fully align. You could be randomly walking down the street while he was sitting just a few doors away in a café. Lando could be entering a restaurant as you and your friends exited from a nearby boutique. It was almost laughable how close you came to seeing him again, yet how impossibly far away it felt.

As the months passed, both you and Lando accepted that what had happened in Miami was a beautiful, fleeting moment. Something to be kept, but perhaps never meant to be revisited. But there’s still a small part of you that couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, fate wasn’t done with you yet.

For now, though, it seemed like fate was content with keeping the both of you on the edge—close enough to feel the pull, but never quite close enough to collide.

One night, it seemed like that fate had finally decided it was time to stop playing games. You were in the middle of preparing for your final exams when your cousins called with an unexpected invitation. They will be flying to Singapore for the Gran Prix two months from now, and they have already secured a paddock club pass for you—for all three days of the event. The kicker? They will be paying for everything; flights, accommodations, and even meals. It was definitely a golden opportunity, and although you had no clue what a Grand Prix was or even what Formula 1 is, you couldn’t turn down an all-expenses-paid trip to a place you had been saving up to visit anyway.

“Trust me, it’s going to be amazing,” your cousin assured you over the phone. “You’ll get to be up close to the cars, the drivers, and the entire F1 spectacle. It’s a vibe.”

While you were excited about the trip, the idea of spending three days around race cars didn’t exactly thrill you. You knew nothing about cars or Formula 1, and the most you had ever watched were glimpses of motorsports on TV at home with your father. But a free trip to Singapore was too good to pass up, and maybe, you would find something to enjoy about this whole Grand Prix thing.

Fast forward to your arrival in Singapore. The sweltering heat of Singapore was almost overwhelming, but the excitement in the air was noticeable as you strolled through the paddock area, soaking in the energy of the Grand Prix weekend. You are dressed in a flowing white sundress that caught the breeze just right, paired with chic Prada Monolith Crisscross sandals, a cute beige mini Lady Dior handbag that matches complete your whole outfit, and the paddock club pass hanging around your neck—in all honesty, you looked like you belonged at a chic summer brunch rather than a motorsport event. But you were grateful for your outfit choices, especially given how hot and humid it was in Singapore. You weren’t sure what to expect from the race weekend, but at least you felt prepared for the weather.

The atmosphere was buzzing, with fans eagerly awaiting glimpses of their favorite drivers. You and your cousins meandered around, snapping photos of the three of you to send to your parents for updates, and enjoying the free-flowing drinks and gourmet food available in the exclusive paddock club. Your cousins, die-hard Formula 1 fans, were thrilled to spot drivers walking around, rushing up to get photos with anyone they could.

At one point, they had spotted Oscar Piastri, the young driver who seemed to be gathering a crowd in the paddock. Your cousins were excited and hurried up to him, asking for a quick photo. Instead of joining them, you volunteered to take the photo, your cousin had handed you his phone and took a photo of them with Oscar. As Oscar posed with your cousins, you framed the shot perfectly, capturing their wide smiles and his easygoing grin. After the photo was snapped, you handed the phone back to your cousin, but something odd caught your attention.

Oscar was staring at you, a look of recognition flashing briefly across his face, though he didn’t say anything. His gaze lingered for a second too long, as if he was trying to place where he had seen you before. But before you could ask if something was wrong, he quickly and politely excused himself, saying something about needing to be somewhere else.

“Thank you!” Your cousin beamed, oblivious to the strange moment, as they admired the picture you had taken.

However, you were left feeling slightly unsettled. Why had Oscar looked at you like that? You just shrugged it off, thinking it was probably nothing. After all, he must meet thousands of people all the time, maybe you just had one of those faces.

You continued walking around with your cousins, admiring the cars as the mechanics prepared for the weekend’s race during the pitlane walk. The energy was contagious, you could feel it in the air—tension and excitement. While you didn’t quite understand the intricacies of the sport, you were starting to get why so many people were hooked.

As Oscar made his way back to the McLaren garage, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just seen someone important. The brief encounter with you lingered in his mind, he considered telling Lando about it, but something held him back. What if he was just mistaken? What if you were just another face in the crowd, one of the many people who flocked to the Grand Prix? He surely didn’t want to get Lando’s hopes up if he was wrong because the boy is already losing his mind of finding you.

But still, there was an undeniable spark of recognition in Oscar’s gut. The way you had smiled at him, the familiarity in your eyes—it was as if you were embedded into his memories, even if he couldn’t quite place you. The thought of Lando obsessing over someone who may not even be worth it felt almost cruel, so he kept quiet as he stepped into the garage.

“Hey Osc!” Lando called out from where he was working on some last-minute adjustments to the car. His energy was infectious, his usual charisma shining through despite the long day ahead.

“Just met some fans,” Oscar replied, casually brushing off the encounter. He knew Lando was too focused on the race to delve into any side stories, so he played it cool. “Pretty excited about the weekend.”

“That’s good! We need that energy. It’s going to be a wild race!” Lando said enthusiastically and grinned.

Lando was really in the zone, and Oscar didn’t want to disrupt that by bringing up something that might end up being inconsequential, but Oscar couldn’t help himself. As he watched Lando tinker with the car, a thought struck him. If he had indeed seen you, and if you were that same girl that Lando had met at the club in Miami, then there was a chance for another confirmation that it really is indeed you. Singapore is a big place, but the paddock? Not so much. People cross paths here all the time. Fate could also work in you and Lando’s favor.

“I have a feeling we’ll meet some interesting people this weekend,” Oscar said, casually testing the waters. “You never know who might show up in the paddock.”

“You think so? Like who?” Lando raised an eyebrow, now intrigued.

“Just a hunch. You know how these events go, a lot of fans and celebrities come through.” Oscar shrugged, playing it cool as he smiled at Lando. Hoping what he said wouldn’t come off too eager.

“Yeah, I guess we’ll see. It’d be nice to connect with some new faces.” Lando grinned.

Oscar just decided to remain quiet, but inside his mind, he had promised himself that if your paths didn’t cross naturally over the course of the race weekend, he would make sure to plan the two of you to meet. It was high time for Lando to get that second chance, and if fate wouldn’t still bring you and Lando together, then Oscar would be more happy to lend a hand.

As you and your cousins walked around the bustling paddock, the excitement of the day washed over you. You were engaged in conversation, pointing out different drivers, when suddenly, your cousins spotted someone they knew and ran off to catch up. You paused, taking a moment to soak in the atmosphere and admire the vibrant energy that surrounded you. You never knew that you’ll be enjoying the Grand Prix with your cousin—it was eventful, but really fun.

Suddenly, your eyes caught sight of someone familiar stepping out of the McLaren motorhome—a head of curly hair, sharp jawline, and those aquamarine eyes that had been burned deep into your memory since that night at the club in Miami. It was him. Most of all, you wouldn’t expect that the man you had met in the club was Lando Norris. You had seen his face all over the paddock, and your cousin telling you who he was.

You froze for a moment, your heart was caught up in your throat. Lando was walking with a group of people, laughing and chatting, completely unaware that you were standing just meters away. It felt like time had slowed down for you. Could this really be happening? After all those months of missed chances and near encounters, fate had finally decided to stop playing games and let your paths cross again—and here you were, in Singapore, of all places.

But just as you gathered your thoughts, Lando turned his head in your direction. His laughter faded, and his eyes locked onto yours. There was a flicker of surprise, then sudden recognition as his face shifted from casual curiosity to something more intense. It was like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, and neither could you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a strange limbo of disbelief. But as you or cousins called out to you, completely oblivious to the emotional earthquake happening between you and Lando, you snapped back to reality. You offered a nervous smile and a small wave, really unsure of what to do next. Would he even remember you? Should you go over and say something? Or maybe he was just staring at someone behind you.

“Hey! We’re heading over there!” Your cousins shouted, pointing toward another part of the paddock.

You felt a wave of disappointment was over you, knowing that you had no choice but follow and be with them. As you turn to leave, you glance back at Lando one last time, just in time to catch him staring intently at your back. Lando’s expression shifted as his eyes widened, and you realized he had spotted your tattoo—the intricate Sak Yant design that adored your skin.

In that moment, you could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he began connecting the dots. Your heart raced again, a mix of hope and fear. But before you could linger on your thoughts, your cousins tugged at your arm, leading you away. You felt a strange sense of longing, wishing desperately for a chance to bridge the gap. Little did you know, Lando was feeling the same way.

Fate had finally brought you together again. Now, the ball is in Lando’s court.

432 notes · View notes

elixirina · 2 months ago

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Can I request a Jason Todd X Wondergirl!Reader where shes Wonder woman's daughter and side kick?

They were super close and started dating b4 be died as Robin, and they reunite after his revival.

The JL and Young Justice shipped them like crazy, Bruce looked at her like a daughter, and she was also close with Dick and Tim.

Similar to how Dick had Donna, Tim has Cassie, Jason has Reader 💓

It can be smut, fluff, angst, or a combination, I really don't mind, I love all of your work it's addictive 💕💕💕

If you don't mind, you can ignore this aspect if you want, but could WonderGirl reader have long voluminous ginger curly hair? Similar to how Greek Girls in renaissance paintings have? Idk it's just super cute for me.

Anyways, take care and keep doing what your doing 🫶🫶🫶

hello my beautiful anon! i really loved this idea, i incorporated most of what you said, minus the ginger hair (mainly because i want the reader to remain ambiguous)! however, i hope you like it, as i liked it very very much!

# definition of love — jason todd

synopsis — jason is found dead shortly after you began dating. it hit you like a train, and after a few years, you figured you had moved on. guess you’re proven wrong when you spot a figure who looks just like your boy.

warnings — nothing much, a timeline of events kind of, reader is diana’s daughter and sidekick. angst with a happy ending, reader literally having a mental breakdown twice, typical gf losing bf situation maybe a bit worse, reader has some amazonian features, reader's wondergirl suit is like diana's only the colors are like swapped so the top half is blue instead of red and the skirt is red, but the gold remains the same, as does the headband. this was proofread, but i probably overlooked a spelling mistake like always. i don't think there’s anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

seredipity (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

being wondergirl was like a dream come true. you couldn't lie that there were times you wanted to bash your head into a rock because of how stressful it was, but it gave you an excuse to spend time with your mother 24/7.

you were only 13, but your mother had started training you young. she claimed it was for your own protection, but you weren't necessarily sure that was the reason. nevertheless, you obliged and to be honest, it was fun.

getting to spend time with your mother and fight crime? hell yeah! plus, that meant you got to meet the justice league. the idea of it had always flown over your head, but when your mother finally came to you with the idea, you beamed.

luckily for you, that day had arrived as quickly as you had hoped. you were nervous to the point where you were shaking. you had met the young justice before and they were the nicest people you'd ever interacted with, given how close they were to your age. yet, this, this was different.

it seemed way more professional than when you met the young justice.

you stood beside your mother, as she showed you around the justice league headquarters. natural light streamed in through large, arched skylights and tall windows. the sun blared in your face, and it made you feel warm.

could this go any faster?

jason walked in beside bruce in his robin suit. he figured he looked stupid, but he always did when he put on the suit. when bruce had brought up the idea of meeting the justice league, he expected a much cooler headquarters. the hall of justice looked so...bland.

the walls were shade of cream, and a massive, glowing emblem of a shield stood in the main hall. the pair walked on the white marble floor.

in jason's eyes, he looked like a big ball of color surrounded by white. the boy had completely zoned out as bruce walked him through the establishment, talking and talking away.

he had completely forgot where he was when he spotted your flowing hair. he watched as you methodically fiddled with your red skirt. the blue and white on your bodice matched the skirt of the woman next to you. a woman he'd only assumed to be wonder woman.

bruce, unbeknownst to jason's staring, had led the latter over you and your mother, with plans of introducing you and jason.

your mother took notice of bruce's presence quickly, stopping her conversation with you. you watched as the two adults greeted each other with a smile.

bruce averted his gaze to you, looking down at your figure. "you must be y/n. i'm bruce. diana speaks highly of you." his words made your cheeks go warm and you smiled sheepishly.

"i would hope so." you rubbed your bare bicep, your nervousness coming back to you.

the man let out a chuckle, before turning over to the boy next to him. the boy you hadn't even noticed until now. and the minute you did, you felt everything stop. it felt weird, this had never happened before. whenever you met new people your age, you smiled and said hi, but you couldn't bring yourself to do any of that.

his presence hit you like the first bloom of spring after a long, harsh winter.

"this is my son, jason." bruce simply said, and jason's eyes widened, mainly because bruce called him his son, but also because this meant he had to say hi to you and he didn't even know if he could still speak.

you shook off everything you felt and gave the boy in front of you a smile. the three primary colors on his suit and the contrast between his and bruce's almost made you giggle.

the air seemed charged with something electric; tangible yet invisible. you gave him a wave which he very quickly returned. he quickly looked down at the marble floor and you watched him.

you couldn't stop thinking about that the entire day. and to be honest, it made you less nervous about meeting the justice league members. they were incredibly nice, but you just couldn't keep your eye off of jason.

you sure hoped you'd see boy wonder again.

best friend (n.) someone who will stand up for you in the times you need it most. keep your secrets close, and someone you trust with your life.

you were now 14. maybe you had a little crush on jason, but nevertheless, he was your best friend, so that didn't matter to you. what mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you; you sure as hell did not want to lose him.

the two of you sat on a rooftop, your feet dangling in the air. your gold headband held your hair back to the best of its ability as the warm summer wind began to pick up. the sun had set, making the sky a beautiful dark blue and the clock was nearing twelve.

you and jason had always spent your time on this rooftop. it gave you a perfect view of gotham and it was a perfect place for the two of you to escape your parents.

you got lost in conversation on this day, like always. hearing his laugh sent a shiver down your spine like always. you could never get used to it; it was like music to your ears.

in all those moments you'd spent on that rooftop, time slowed, stretching into something so ethereal. it made it so memorable.

talking to him was just so easy, one of the reasons you became friends. he just understood and so did you. he was like a piece of your puzzle you didn't know you were missing. and you loved it. you loved-

"if stars could talk, what do you think they'd say about us?" jason broke the short silence between the two of you. the random question made you chuckle.

you turned your head to face him with a smile, "what?" you tilt your head and jason swears it might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen.

jason grins like a cheshire cat, "i mean like, do you think they laugh at our problems and shit?" he always loved conversations like this. he only ever said stupid stuff to see you smile. every time you smiled, it felt like his heart was blossoming flowers.

"language. and you are so weird." you laughed, your hands gripped the concrete edge of the roof top.

"i am not weird. i just have a big imagination." he quickly defended, throwing his right hand in the air. his left hand, which sat on the concrete edge was lingering closer to your hand; none of you noticed.

you let out a snicker before sitting in a comfortable silence, staring at the sky. only a few stars were visible in the sky, mainly due to the amount of light.

you looked down at your left wrist subtly, a gold watch around it. it was a watch your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. you couldn't recall why you rarely ever took it off, but you were grateful you had it at that moment.

you averted your gaze to the boy next to you who was looking down at his lap with a smile on his face.

"happy birthday, jace."

he looked over, the wind blowing a strand of hair in his face. his eyebrows furrowed for a second before he realized it must've been the next day.

you smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, and most of all, he couldn't believe you remembered.

god, he loved this.

lover (n.) 1. a person who is in love with another. 2. a person who has a strong enjoyment or liking for something. 3. a person who loves, especially a person who has or shows a warm and general affectionate regard for others.

"ow. ow. ow." the word became a mantra, a rhythmic complaint that escaped your lips as you lay sprawled on jason’s bed in the manor. the sharp sting in your thigh was unrelenting, a painful reminder of your ill-fated encounter with a kitchen knife and a tray of horribly cut brownies.

the room smelled strongly of antiseptic from the first aid kit jason had torn into moments earlier, the tangy scent mingling with the woodsy warmth of his cologne. that was one smell you could never forget. a crimson gash marred your right thigh, the jagged line oozing blood in slow paths that tickled even as they burned.

jason sat beside you, his expression torn between concern and mild exasperation as he worked quickly to stop the bleeding. the soft rustle of gauze and the metallic clink of scissors filled the otherwise quiet room, broken only by your repeated "ow"s and his hushed apologies.

"sorry, sorry," jason muttered, his voice low and sincere, though his hands remained steady. his jaw clenched as he pressed a clean cloth against your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you wince.

"remind me to never put you in a kitchen again," he quipped, glancing up briefly with the hint of a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the dull ache spreading through your leg. "it was an accident," you retorted, a touch defensive. "i am perfectly capable of knifework."

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "yeah, sure. because slicing your own leg is totally a pro move."

"very funny," you deadpanned, though your lips quirked in a reluctant smile. okay, maybe you weren’t the most graceful person when it came to handling sharp objects. blades weren’t exactly in your forte, and your mom was usually the one wielding kitchen utensils with precision.

jason snickered, the sound soft and melodic but undeniably amused, as he leaned closer to inspect the wound. his focus was intense, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his dark lashes framed his eyes or the small scar that laid on his jawline.

the bandaging took longer than it should have—partly because he was extremely meticulous, and partly because he kept stealing glances at you, his gaze lingering a second too long. his fingers brushed against your skin, the contact feather-light yet electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

he tied the bandage in place with a precise knot, tapping your thigh gently to signal he was done. the touch was brief but warm, leaving a faint heat in its wake.

"there," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "all better."

"thanks," you mumbled, sitting up fully and letting your weight settle into the mattress. your hand rested on top of your freshly bandaged thigh, as if testing the sturdiness of his work.

jason scooted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. his presence felt larger than life, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in, a quiet tension settling between you. you could feel the air shift—charged, unspoken—but neither of you moved to break it.

he tilted his head, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before snapping back to your face. "so… do i need to keep you on knife probation, or are you gonna behave?"

you rolled your eyes again, though your smile this time was genuine. "depends. are you volunteering to cook for me forever?"

his laugh was soft, a little breathless. "if it means you don’t bleed all over my bed again? sure."

despite jason’s earlier declaration, the two of you found yourselves in the manor’s sprawling kitchen. you’d insisted on redeeming yourself, though he stood watch like a hawk, his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“alright prince,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “show me what you’ve got. just… keep the knives far, far away.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a whisk with exaggerated confidence. “watch and learn, todd.”

the two of you fell into a rhythm, the kitchen filling with the comforting clatter of bowls and utensils. jason couldn’t resist stepping in every now and then, fixing your grip on a spatula or adding a pinch of seasoning to your mixture.

“bossy much?” you quipped as he reached around you to adjust the temperature on the oven

“Just trying to save b’s kitchen from a second massacre,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

at some point, the two of you devolved into playful chaos. A light dusting of flour ended up on jason’s shirt—your doing, of course. he retaliated with a swipe of chocolate from the batter bowl, smearing it on your cheek with a triumphant grin.

“truce!” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender.

jason smirked, stepping closer. his eyes softened as he reached out with a damp cloth, gently wiping away the smear. “you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

your breath caught as his hand lingered near your face. the playful energy between you shifted, the air thickening with something unspoken. his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch feather-light, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

he hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his forehead grazing yours as his eyes searched your face. “i’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath.

then, without another word, his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. but it didn’t take long for it to deepen, his hand cupping your jaw while the other found its place at your waist.

the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

when you finally pulled apart, his eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief. “you know,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk, “you’re even worse at baking than I thought.”

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. “we just made out and the first thing you do afterwards is insult me?”

“i wouldn’t call it an insult, just a mere fact.” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face.

you shook your head, closing the distance between your lips once more.

grief (n.) deep sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.

jason was missing. at least, that’s what it seemed like. the last time you saw him was two days ago. to say you were worried would be an understatement.

you’d even gone to the manor, desperate to find him, but neither he nor bruce were there. alfred, usually a source of calm and clarity, had only said, “i’m afraid i can’t explain,” before retreating into the quiet dignity he always carried. those words lingered in your mind, growing heavier with each repetition.

now, two days had passed. two painfully slow, gut-wrenching days where time seemed to drag its feet. sleep had become an impossibility, your bed feeling cold and empty. food felt like an afterthought—how could you eat when every thought spiraled back to jason? was he hurt? was he in trouble? was he…?

you didn’t dare finish that thought.

sitting at the kitchen island, you tapped your fingers against the cool marble countertop in a restless rhythm. the sound filled the silence of the house, a constant reminder of your unease. diana stood across from you, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs, her presence steady yet unable to dispel the dark cloud hanging over you.

she glanced up, her eyes soft with understanding. “it’ll be okay,” she said, though her voice wavered ever so slightly.

you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the swirls of the marble as though the patterns might hold the answers you so desperately needed.

when diana moved to the refrigerator for the whipped cream, a soft knock echoed through the house. it was almost hesitant, as though the person on the other side knew the weight of what they carried.

your head snapped up, and diana caught your movement, raising a hand. “i’ll get it,” she said gently.

you watched as she walked to the entrance hall, her back straight but her steps slower than usual, as if she sensed what was coming. she opened the door, and the chill of the evening air rushed in, making the hairs on your arms rise.

there stood bruce, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his presence commanding as always. but tonight, his usual stoicism was cracked, a melancholic look etched into his face.

diana froze, her hand still gripping the door. “bruce?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer right away. his jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes avoiding hers. for a man who had faced countless battles and tragedies, this moment seemed to unravel him. his silence spoke volumes.

diana swallowed hard, her grip on the door tightening. she didn’t press him, though every second of quiet stretched unbearably. finally, bruce exhaled shakily, breaking the silence.

“jason is dead.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final.

diana’s breath hitched audibly, and she let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. she reached out, pulling bruce into a hug. he stiffened at first, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his grief, but then he let himself lean into her, if only for a moment.

when she pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms. “what am i going to tell y/n?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

bruce didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

how does one tell their daughter her boyfriend is dead?

how does one tell their son's girlfriend he's dead?

your voice cut through the air, startling them both. you stood a few feet behind diana, your brow furrowed with confusion. the cold wind from the open door brushed past you, sending a shiver down your spine.

bruce turned to look at you, and for a moment, the man who was always so unshakable seemed small. his lips parted, but no sound came.

“bruce!” you said, your voice rising slightly as panic crept in. “is… is jason here?” you tilted your head, your fingers fidgeting against your palm.

the way his jaw tightened, the way diana avoided your gaze—it was enough to send your heart racing.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, forcing a shaky laugh. “why are you both looking at me like that?”

diana finally raised her head, tears brimming in her eyes. she stepped closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate.

“mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

she reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. her touch was warm, grounding, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist.

“he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “jason’s dead.”

the world seemed to tilt, the weight of her words crashing into you like a tidal wave. for a moment, everything blurred—the sound of the wind, the warmth of her hand, even the beating of your own heart.

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “no, he’s not.”

"y/n.." diana began.

you backed away, letting her hand fall awkwardly. "no. no. you're lying," you looked over at bruce who was staring at the ground with such remorse. "you're lying, right?"

his silence was enough to make you sob.

after that day, nothing was the same. the world felt muted, like someone had dialed down the color and sound until everything was a dull, lifeless gray. days and nights blurred together, each one dragging on endlessly but offering no relief.

sleep was an elusive stranger. you spent most nights tossing and turning, tangling yourself in the sheets in a futile attempt to find a position where the ache in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable. when you did manage to drift off, it never lasted long.

the nightmares always came—flashes of his face, his laugh, his touch, and then, nothing. you’d wake up gasping, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you were fully conscious. the pillow beneath you was damp most mornings, a stark reminder of the storm you couldn’t escape.

the days weren’t any easier. you locked yourself in your room, the blinds drawn tight to keep the light out. sunlight felt wrong, almost offensive. how could the sun rise and set when your world had stopped?

your phone buzzed occasionally with concerned texts from dick and artemis, but the effort it took to type a single reply felt monumental. ‘okay.’ that was all you could manage, even though it was far from the truth.

your chest felt hollow, as though someone had reached inside and carved out every piece of you that mattered, leaving behind only a raw, jagged void. every breath was a battle—a sharp, painful reminder that you were still here, and he wasn’t.

the leather jacket he left at your house hung in your closet, untouched except for that one night when the grief was too heavy to bear. you’d pulled it down, burying your face in the worn material, desperately searching for the scent of him, the smallest piece of him that you could still hold onto.

at first, the faint smell of his cologne brought a flicker of comfort, but it was fleeting. the memories came rushing in, one after another, relentless and unforgiving. you crumpled to the floor, clutching the jacket to your chest as sobs wracked your body.

even now, the jacket remained where you’d left it—folded on the floor, too painful to look at yet impossible to put away. It was a symbol of him, of everything you’d lost, and it seemed to radiate its own grief, mirroring yours.

the hours crept by, each one heavier than the last. you existed in a haze of sorrow, your body moving through the motions of life while your mind remained stuck in the past, replaying moments with him like a scratched record. every laugh, every glance, every touch—they were all there, vivid and cruel reminders of what you’d never have again.

a year went by. then two. hen three. the grief hadn’t left, not really—it had just learned to settle in the cracks of your soul. you’d found ways to cope, ways to live. for the most part, anyway. the ache was still there, but it no longer kept you locked inside your house, staring at the ceiling, waiting for answers that would never come.

you started spending a lot of more time with dick. he had been a quiet but steady presence in the aftermath, his support unspoken yet deeply felt. he never pushed you to talk, but he always seemed to know when you needed someone to sit with you in the silence. with him, the weight felt a little lighter, the memories a little less suffocating.

about a year after jason's death, you’d met tim. the new robin. It had been a shock at first—seeing someone else in that uniform, someone who wasn’t him. but tim was different. he wasn’t trying to fill jason’s shoes; he was carving his own path, and over time, you grew close to him. he became another thread in the fragile net that kept you grounded, kept you moving forward.

life continued, in its strange, fractured way. then, one afternoon, everything shifted.

you had decided to take a walk downtown—a simple attempt to clear your head. the streets were bustling, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air. you ducked into a quiet bookstore for a while, thumbing through a few titles before stepping back out onto the pavement. you hadn't been in this particular bookstore in years. the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city.

and that’s when you saw him.

at first, it was just a figure in the crowd. but something about the way he moved caught your eye. the familiar stride. the way his head turned slightly as though he’d caught someone’s attention. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

it couldn’t be. it couldn’t be.

but it looked so much like him. too much like him.

you froze on the spot, your body rooted to the ground as the figure walked away, blending into the crowd. you wanted to move, to call out, but your legs wouldn’t listen. your hands trembled as they clutched your bag, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

you stumbled back into the nearest alley, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. leaning against the cold brick wall, you tried to steady yourself, but the world was spinning. you clenched your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them as though you could will the image away.

it wasn’t him. it could not be him.

but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, fast and wild, threatening to overtake your rationality.

by the time you made it home, you were shaking. the moment the door closed behind you; the dam broke. you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs tearing through you with a force that felt almost violent.

“jason,” you whispered, his name a prayer and a curse all at once.

the pain you’d worked so hard to manage came crashing back, sharper than ever. you cried until your throat was raw, until your body ached from the force of it. the walls of your apartment seemed to close in on you, suffocating and unforgiving. you didn’t care.

the image of the figure haunted you, replaying in your mind over and over. you wanted to believe it was him. you wanted to believe that somehow, against all odds, he was alive. but you couldn’t let yourself hope. hope was dangerous.

two days passed before you felt steady enough to leave the house. dick had invited you to the manor for dinner, saying bruce wanted to discuss something. you agreed reluctantly, still shaken from what you’d seen, but knowing you couldn’t keep isolating yourself.

seated in the dining room, you looked between bruce and dick, their expressions unusually grim.

“why do I feel like this isn’t just dinner?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

bruce sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we’ve been tracking a new vigilante in gotham,” he said finally. “calls himself the red hood.”

the name sent a chill down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral. “and?”

dick hesitated, glancing at bruce before speaking. “he’s... unconventional. brutal. we’ve crossed paths with him a few times now, and his methods are extreme.”

“extreme how?” you pressed, your stomach knotting with unease.

“he’s not afraid to kill,” bruce said flatly. “he goes after criminals with precision and rage. he knows things about us, about gotham, that no one outside the family should know.”

the knot in your stomach tightened. “what are you trying to say?”

dick leaned forward, his voice softer now. “we think he might have a connection to jason.”

your breath hitched, and you gripped the armrest of the chair. “what kind of connection?”

bruce’s jaw tightened. “we don’t know yet. but his tactics, his targets... there are too many similarities to ignore.”

the room fell silent as you processed their words. the figure in the crowd flashed in your mind again. could it really be him?

but no, it couldn’t. jason was gone.

and yet, for the first time in three years, the possibility lingered.

love (n.) an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.

you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about that day in the bookstore and the dinner at the manor. it hit you like a train. you had truly thought you were over it.

you believed that no reminder of him was going to make you break down ever again. that melancholy and remorse? you thought it was gone. why did it have to be back?

why couldn't you be normal about it? what made this so damn difficult?

of course, you still loved him. you would never stop. you knew that for a fact. but no one told you that grief was so hard.

it felt suffocating. the weight on your shoulders came back and suddenly, you weren't so grounded anymore. god, you wanted to believe he was alive. just to make everything easier. you just wanted the cure to all of this.

your mother noticed something was off when she came to visit you, but you immediately turned her comfort down, saying it was just stress.

she knew that wasn't the case.

nevertheless, she left you alone and later that night, you found yourself in your suit on that very rooftop you and jason loved so much.

your feet dangled off of the concrete edge, staring into the night sky. the sky above was an inky black, its darkness punctuated by a few stubborn stars that managed to shine through the haze of city lights. the hum of the city rose faintly from below, but up here, it felt like the world had paused, leaving only you and the endless night.

from the rooftop, the city stretched out in every direction, its neon signs and glowing windows casting a faint orange haze over the horizon. above it all, the moon hung pale and solitary, its light soft and distant, as though reluctant to reach the ground.

it reminded you so much of him. the ability to talk to him and never know when to stop. he never failed to make you smile or laugh. god, you missed his laugh. you missed his smile and you longed for his smell.

you closed your eyes, and his face came to you, unbidden. his crooked smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. the way he used to look at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. god, you missed him. you missed everything about him.

he was so good to you, and he was gone.

your chest tightened, the hollow ache inside you growing unbearable. you leaned forward slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though you could hold yourself together. the rooftop had always been your sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a prison.

you leaned back just in time to hear a rather modulated voice come from behind you.

"i thought you would've stopped coming here."

you jumped at the voice, immediately standing up. you gripped onto your lasso which laid attached to your red skirt. the rooftop was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights below. shadows stretched across the concrete, and the figure in front of you emerged from one of them like something out of a nightmare.

fortunately, the red helmet that covered his head gave it away and ultimately, you knew who you were facing. red hood.

"what do you want?" you simply questioned, straightening your back.

he made an effort to step towards you but stopped when you put your hand up as a way to stop him. he sighed, though it was barely audible. "i'm not gonna hurt you. i would ne-" he cut himself off, looking down at the ground.

you raised your eyebrows, letting your hand make its way back to your side. your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as your eyes locked onto the tall figure before you. you eyed him up and down.

he left no room for questioning when you heard a clank. you looked down at the ground and say that same red helmet that was just on his head, lying on the ground.

you looked up at him and your shoulders slumped. the grip on your lasso loosened and your breath hitched.

oh god, were you dreaming? surely, this couldn't be real.

standing before you was jason todd. your jason. your boy. he had certainly grown, standing at a little over 6'0, 6'1? you could see how toned he was through his suit. his hair was longer than before, and there were faint scars on his still beautiful face.

"baby..." he uttered out, biting the inside of his cheek.

how does one tell their girlfriend that they came back from the dead?

you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him. you needed to touch him, to feel him. this was your chance. this was the cure. you felt him stiffen a bit under you before completely melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around you securely. it almost felt like he was scared to let you.

"i thought i-" your voice broke as you pulled your head back a bit to look at him. "i missed you, jace." the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily sent a chill down his spine. he missed this. he missed you.

his throat tightened as he looked down at you, guilt and regret written across his face. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it filled your ears like a soft melody. you had missed hearing it—hearing him. just hearing him speak to you like this, like he still cared, made everything else feel less heavy.

you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. god, he missed that. "why?"

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving your face. “i didn’t look for you first. i should’ve. and then… i did things. horrible things. i mean, i killed people, y/n. so many people. and i—i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t even know if you can.” he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair. “but, but i can change. for you, i can. i just wanted you to know that. i… i just wanted to tell you that i’m still me. i’m still your jason.”

"then, that's all that matters." you stated, placing a hand on his cheek. it felt so much better to touch him. "i can't leave you. not when i just got you back." you sniffled.

you smiled for the first time, and he felt himself turn into jelly. he missed you and he missed that damn smile.

a shaky breath escaped him as his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek softly. “fuck, i don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

you shook your head, smiling through the tears that were now falling freely down your face. “you don’t have to deserve me, jason,” you whispered. “you already have me. also, language.”

he shook his head as he pulled you in close, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss, as though afraid to push too far. but you kissed him back with all the love and longing you had kept hidden for so long. when you pulled away, both of you breathless, jason rested his forehead against yours.

“i always thought you looked good in red. i could get used to this.” you remarked, referring to the red helmet that was still laying on the red.

he smiled softly, placing a hand on the fabric of your crimson skirt. “got it from you.”

god, you loved this man.

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randomshyperson · 1 year ago

Text

Sanctify - Cult Leader!Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Kinktober #06

Summary: After your worst semester at NYU, your Aunt Agatha convinces you to join the Children of Chaos as an alternative, and very expensive form of therapy. Leaving the cult becomes a very difficult task when you develop an unexpected affection for their leader.

Warnings: (+18), dom!wanda and brat!reader, rough smut, face-fucking, power dynamics, brat taming (ish), praising, lots of tension and teasing, definitely blasphemous on some levels, a lot of plot, mentions of past toxic relationship, unspecified age gap. | Words: 7.900k

A/N-> I’ve been dying to write something about Cult Leader Wanda since I watched the second season of Yellowjackets and became obsessed with Lottie Matthews, so while writing this, I was picturing Lottie’s cult to be fair. I also like how I ended this, as it makes it possible to turn it into a series. Good reading!

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Although the movement of the car brought a gentle breeze through the window, the weather was hot enough to actually make thinking painful. In an attempt to relieve the temperature a little, and perhaps escape Aunt Aggie's provocative reminiscences about the long journey and the events that made this trip necessary in the first place, you put your arm on the door, and propped your chin up, your face on the safety edge outside the window.

New York had been out of sight for hours and had given way to countless trees and a plantation further and further away. You figured it wouldn't take long for the radio signal to stop working, but to your pleasant surprise, the soft melody of cassette tapes hidden in the glove compartment by Nicholas were picked up once that happened.

Your cousin had grown up over the summer - His still youthful appearance now featured neatly cut curly hair and reading glasses that he often hung on the collar of his shirt. When younger, it was common to hear how much he resembled Sir. Scratch, his scumbag father in the words of Agatha and the other adults, not yours - but over time, he looked much more like his mother.

Nick met your gaze through the rearview mirror and gave you an assuring smile. You didn't reciprocate, but not because you were upset. Just because you were distracted by the huge sign coming around the next corner.

"Oh, boy, I've missed this place." Agatha commented with a nostalgic sigh, as soon as she noticed the entrance plaque. She slowed down enough that the wind wasn't enough anymore, so you returned to your original position with a low snort.

"There's still time to turn around." You muttered, getting a warning look from the older woman.

She leaned over, without answering you, to grab something from the open glove compartment. You pushed your hair back as a pamphlet was dropped into your lap.

"I know you hated the idea, but you need to trust your elders for once in your life, darling." Agatha began, as you grimaced at the crumpled paper. The title Children of Chaos was painted in red, but it was faded in several places. "The 70s were the apex for this place, I had a lot of fun here. It's such a unique experience, connecting with nature and the chaos that is part of us all."

Nick chuckled through his nose. "Mom, don't start your witch thing again, you'll scare her." Mocked your cousin from the passenger seat, but Agatha waved him off.

"She'll thank me when she gets there, I'm sure."

But you didn't do that. When the car finally came to a stop, and what looked more like a fancy farm merged with the forest took over your vision, all you did was crumple the Immersive Community pamphlet into your pocket and throw your old backpack over your shoulder.

Aunt Aggie and your cousin hugged you tightly, saying they were going to write, but they couldn't get past the reception desk since they weren’t part of the program. You saw Agatha take your mom’s borrowed credit card out of her purse to start your so-called treatment, and the last goodbyes left your tongue before one of the tutors started the tour of the place.

In between presenting a large number of different huts that served as dormitories and classrooms for the most diverse activities - painting, handicrafts or poetry were the ones you memorized - Mr. Emil Blonsky also took the time to welcome you, emphasizing how incredible the community was and how lucky anyone was to be there. You bit your tongue to keep from telling him that only those with money could.

Finally, Blonsky showed you the stables and greenhouses on the edge of the property, and on the way back to the rest of the huts, you noticed the path up the hill.

"And what's up there?"

The man stopped walking with a small smile. He was wearing clothes very similar to those of the other people you'd seen on the tour, the difference being a golden necklace with a strange symbol that was hidden by the movement of his loosely buttoned shirt.

"We must not go up there without permission." He begins, although he's smiling, there's something in his gaze that says this rule cannot be disrespected. " The Prophetess' Retreat is a sacred place of peace and reflection."

You look back at the hut at the bottom of the mountain, far enough away that you can't make out the decorations on the balcony, but still beautiful and quiet, high enough to make it look like the prophet had her own little piece of heaven.

"So, no bothering the boss without asking? Got it." You retort, getting a chuckle from the other at the summary. He starts walking again along the path towards the general area, but you can't help the curiosity burning in your chest. "About this prophet, will she be isolated up there or will I get a chance to meet her?"

Blonsky walks up beside you, and looks you in the eye to say; "You'll meet her when it's time to meet her, not early and not late."

You don't know what to say to that, everything here is so theatrical in a way. Mystical, you might say. It suits Aunt Aggie so well, that it's not hard to imagine her here, dancing to the midnight moon and talking to the trees. She already does that in New York, it should have been much simpler in the middle of the forest.

"Come, child. You must start the cleaning process soon." Announces the man as he picks up the pace on the trail. With a sigh, you decide not to contradict him by saying that you bathed before coming, thank you.

It was soon revealed that the cleansing process really meant a bath - the colleagues around you who helped you laughed when you joked that it was a strange way of saying that someone stinks, before clarifying that it was nothing of the sort. The Cleansing Process was a bath of salts and herbs, in a tub of stones and some kind of botanical baptism, the latter of which only members who had completed thirteen full moons could take part in. You would be invited to the baptism with the prophet's blessing, but there was still a long way to go.

Blonsky handed your uniforms, and explained the last rules before leaving you alone, or almost, since your hut was shared with six other people, and despite this, it seemed very comfortable and organized. There were bunk beds and private bathroom spaces, and at least three spacious shelves for each. The latter wouldn't be of much use to you, since you'd brought almost nothing and the vast majority of your belongings had been left at NYU. Just thinking about that place gave you a terrible stomach ache: You would have skipped dinner, but the mere suggestion of not attending made one of your colleagues frown in concern and repeat the rules, so you ended up giving that up.

The routine that followed was calm: it didn't surprise you that the new members were responsible for the hardest tasks, and it didn't bother you either. You were never afraid of hard work, and keeping your hands busy also helped to calm your mind, so it was a win-win. Besides, even if you didn't get the jobs nobody wanted, all veterans had chores. There was some rule about the amount of service time and dedication being rewarded, so those senior members could choose what they wanted to do first.

You didn't have to worry about this anyway: you would do what you had to do because, after all, the agreement was to stay here only for the summer. However, with each passing day away from exams, traffic, and New York's typical filth, it became harder to imagine leaving the Children of Chaos and their strange harmony and kindness.

After three weeks in the group, you learned to knit. You also earned the privilege of mail when you showed up for all your appointments without delay and decided to check the items in the privacy of your cabin during the last hour of prayer.

Since you hadn't yet found your faith or received your calling or whatever weird way Blonsky explained this, you barely joined in the prayer sessions. This evening, excited to receive news from home, was no different.

Aunt Aggie wrote about the store doing well and mentioned your mother, who didn't write to you with more than vague words about hoping you'd feel better soon. The best present was hidden in Nicholas' letter about the university being a sack without his favorite cousin. Wrapped in silk and next to a lighter.

You haven't earned the right to write outside yet - something about a month in isolation to accomplish. So you just clutched the items to your chest and wished your cousin knew how grateful you were.

Your initial intention was to save the weed for some more stressful day - which was rare in the leisurely pace of this place - but the last letter made you consider using it all that night.

The recipient's perfect handwriting, and the address you knew by heart. You didn't even open the item, you put it away in your drawer and stood up with the weed hidden in your pants pocket.

The common area was empty, as the vast majority of your colleagues were praying. You stepped up to one of the bonfires and threw the unopened letter into the flames, without hesitation and without caring to see it burn. You turned on your heels and continued along the trail, heading for one of the few more secluded spots you had discovered during the hours of exploring between tasks.

The rules were clear about the prophet's hut but said nothing about the road towards it. And since apparently everyone there was afraid of upsetting the boss, that spot was always empty and the perfect place to smoke in hiding.

You leaned against a tree, curled up and lit the weed, and tried to keep away all the painful memories about last semester that the damn letter had brought up.

You were halfway through a joint when you heard a voice at the end of the trail next to you.

"Good evening, Y/N."

"Jesus fucking Christ." You gasped, jumping with fright and almost dropping the blunt to the ground. You looked sideways abruptly, imagining that you were hallucinating because of the weed, and were almost sure that you were when the words escaped you due to the apparition in front of you. The most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. Instead of a uniform, she wore a loose dark wine dress that hugged her curves perfectly; her long red hair cascaded down her shoulders and back and her emerald eyes shone curiously in your direction. The dim light from the fire lamps scattered along the trail and the moon really made the woman look like an angel.

You coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, you scared me." You clarified, the cigarette hidden behind your back a stupid attempt to mask what you were doing. Sure enough, your pupils were dilated, and it was very easy to see the smoke. So, as soon as you tried to hide it, you gave up, offering the woman an awkward chuckle and gesturing the cigarette gently. "Don't tell on me."

There was a soft pause, which you couldn't tell from the intoxication in your system. The woman watched for a moment as the charming gesture of bringing the cigarette to the smile formed on your lips and blew the smoke into the starry sky with your neck slightly stretched. Your mind seemed to clear, and before the woman could speak, you grimaced. "Wait, didn't you just say my name? How..?"

She smiled, folding her hands in front of her body. "It was premeditated that we met today, of course. I'm Wanda."

You've heard her name before, in conversation circles and in advertisements about her heavenliness hanging around.

"Shit." It was your natural reaction, which made her laugh softly, and it must have been the weed's fault that the sound echoed in your mind and made your body shudder.

"Don't worry, I won't snitch on you." She assures you with an easy smile playing on her lips, and you swallow dry, completely at a loss.

"Thanks... but I thought you were the boss." You mumble, and Wanda makes a funny expression, like a false realization.

"Oh, you're right." She murmurs amusedly. "I think I can let this one slide if you'll share it with me."

"Fuck, of course, here." Your limbs feel strange, almost too heavy to move around her. You awkwardly hand her the cigarette, certain that your face is flushed. Hell, the last time you were this clumsy was last semester, with-

"You swear a lot." Wanda's comment pulls you out of your daze. She takes a long drag before adding: "Especially for a Christian."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "My father's a Christian, not me." You retort, and end up grimacing. "And how do you know-"

"This is a very exclusive program, sweetheart." Wanda cuts you off again, the cigarette between her fingers but her gaze is completely focused on your face. "Having a lot of money or being someone's niece isn't enough to guarantee you a spot, but a good letter of recommendation might. And Agatha wrote me almost everything about you, except the reason for rushing to get you here before the next recruitment period."

The sentence was an invitation for you to speak, but you didn't fall for the bait. On the contrary, you looked away with tense shoulders, and Wanda didn't press. At least, not now. She took another drag before commenting more softly:

"We have general meetings every Wednesday. We encourage members to open up."

You grimace softly. "Group therapy isn't my thing."

But Wanda smiles lopsidedly, giving you back the joint. " Neither is nice weed." She retorts a little provocatively, attracting your attention. "If you want to try something new, show up next week. And if you want to try something good, you should try the weed from our greenhouse. It won't taste like crushed dirt." Adjusting her hair around her shoulders, she offers you a wink. "Have a good night, darling."

You think about the color of her eyes for the rest of the night.

-&-

Sooner than you'd expect, you'll discover that Wanda isn't the type to let things slide. Far from it, she notices everything, especially those who are being too slack and prone to not following the teachings of the Children of Chaos, possibly ruining their record of total efficiency or something.

She puts an end to your plans for a quiet summer, trying to go unnoticed among the countless other followers just as abruptly as she left her meditation hut. Wanda seems to appear at every moment that you consider escaping from your commitments - it even occurs to you that she has a particular interest in watching you, but the idea sounds so absurd that you push it away while forcing a polite smile before returning to your duties.

Less than two weeks after you met, you finally stopped avoiding Group Therapy and showed up on time to join the session. The presence of Wanda, in a loose dark purple dress and her red hair tied up in a neat braid, makes you almost give up, convinced that you couldn't say anything without stuttering in the presence of such a stunning woman.

But she offers a gentle smile, opening her arms softly. "Come along, darling, you're just in time." She greets and you stumble towards a corner in the background, begging the gods that you can attend in silence this time.

It doesn't seem so difficult when it's other people doing it. A young man with whom you've already shared the task of looking after the stables spoke of the frustrations of returning from enforced service with a missing limb, and how the support he didn't get from the government and family members, he found here. Bucky received a finger-snapping applause - something that was explained to you as a way to avoid triggers on the countless ex-combatants or victims of post-traumatic stress that make up the crowd - before giving his turn to another ex-military woman, Carol Danvers.

More stories were shared until Wanda's gaze fell on your slumped figure and she called your name. All the attention in the room fell on you too, and you chuckled awkwardly.

"Thanks, but I'm not good at public speaking." You retorted, but Wanda, with her hands folded over her stomach, gave you a gentle smile.

"Don't worry about it, dear, this is a no-judgment zone." She says, but you make no mention of getting up, and her gaze becomes more insistent. "It's important that we all make an effort to be present at these exercises. We encourage participation around here. Come along, dear, please." And she smiled so kindly that you could only trust her.

The group offered a small chorus of encouragement, and before you knew it, you were a few steps away from the redhead, who held out her hands for your wrists.

"I want you to take a deep breath and close your eyes." Wanda guided, her melodic voice bringing goose bumps all over your body. "Turn all your attention inward. And tell me, is there anything in there that you'd like to share with the group?"

The memories of last semester hit you full force. But Wanda massages your wrists and it feels as if she can calm down the whole storm inside of you.

You sigh, before opening your eyes. "I... I don't know where to start." Your whisper is met by another chorus of support from the members, who retort that you're safe. Wanda releases your wrists to sit with the others, and you try not to be so self-conscious while you're in the spotlight. "I think I can share with you the reason why I'm here." You declare a moment later, taking another deep breath.

Bucky gives you an encouraging smile, mimicking that of the people around him, and you swallow.

"I don't have a history of fighting and overcoming war or any illnesses, so I'm sorry to disappoint anyone." You mumble, receiving confused looks.

The former sergeant assures you: "No problem competes with another. All our pains have their importance." And it seems to be something that has already been repeated here a few times because everyone shakes their heads in agreement.

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. "Right... well, I won't beat around the bush. A month ago, when I was first enrolled here, I had just been kicked out of my house. Well, it wasn't exactly my house anymore, because I'd been living on campus for about three years, but I think you get the idea." You say, laughing awkwardly at the anxiety in your chest. You try to clear your throat so that your voice doesn't come out so shaky, but only Wanda's gaze really helps to calm your nerves. "And the reason for this was a relationship that my parents, more specifically my mother, didn't approve of. To be fair, no one really approved, because, well, the person... hm, I don't think there's any other way to put it, was another woman. An older woman, and also my professor. And well, the whole thing would have been a scandal anyway, but I really let myself believe that when the worst was over, we'd be fine. Bad news, we weren't." You laugh sadly. You pause, imagining that you'll get judgmental looks, but everyone listens attentively. "For a while, I thought the worst part was afterward. When everyone knew and judged me, and how my mother freaked out, and I tried... but no. The worst part was not realizing what that love if I can call it that, was doing to me. How ill it was making me. And until I got here, learned things about myself, and managed to take a break from everything that was left behind... For a while, I really hoped to go back and fix everything, but now... damn, sometimes I don't even think about leaving this place."

The group celebrates quietly, exchanging words of encouragement. Your ears feel warm, and Wanda stands up again. "You can stay as long as you need, darling." She says, massaging your forearm. She calls someone else to speak, but doesn't miss the opportunity to whisper in your ear: "I'm proud, stay a little longer today, I want to talk to you."

And you think you haven't absorbed anything for the rest of the morning.

Eventually, the session ends, and as soon as the room is empty, Wanda turns her face towards you.

"You were brave today, sweetheart."

Your hands, busy putting the cushions away, tremble a little. But you offer her an incredulous chuckle.

"Yeah, right." It's your answer, which makes Wanda frown in curiosity. At her inquisitive silence, you sigh before clarifying: "Everyone's nice, but I know it's kind of silly that my big trauma is a break-up and not post-traumatic stress from war or something that actually matters."

Wanda presses her lips together, studying you for a moment, and you take the opportunity to put away the last of the cushions. Suddenly, she says:

"This lack of respect for your own feelings comes from parental negligence, I suppose." You turn your face away in surprise, but Wanda gives you a small smile: "James wasn't lying when he said that no pain should compete with another. We all have our internal and external battles, and we shouldn't belittle our pain. I believe we should honor it, and wear it. And here, dear, you will learn to do that." Wanda makes her way around to one of the cupboards at the back, and you watch her movements in silence, from reaching into one of the last drawers to returning to you with an item in hand. "I have an invitation for you."

She opens the box she's brought, and inside is a necklace very similar to the one the instructors wear. The main difference is the symbol, the crown that Wanda also carries on the pendant around her neck. You frown in confusion.

"What is it?"

She wraps the item between her fingers, her gaze on you. "The disciple's necklace. The last one from the current solstice."

You imitate the gesture, touching the item with the tips of your fingers. Wanda doesn't move her hand away as your fingers brush together, and you ignore your own shyness as you watch her bite her lip for a moment. "I don't understand what it means."

She licks her lips, and the movement doesn't go unnoticed by your eyes. "It means that you would be my apprentice. You would accompany me during periods of meditation, you would study my teachings closely, you would be... entirely dedicated to..."

"You?" you add, and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, warm against your cheek. When did she get so close?

"If you wish." She whispers, and you pull away gently, your face hot but the last thread of sanity in your mind.

"I'm sure there are more experienced members dying for this position. It wouldn't be right-"

Wanda shakes her head, interrupting you. "They weren't chosen. You were." She assures you, pressing the box with the necklace against your chest. "And if it wasn't you, the place would be empty until the next solstice. You don't have to accept it, darling. It's not a summons. It's an invitation."

You sigh, holding the box against your chest. "I just... I've never done anything like this. I don't want to mess things up."

There's a bell in the distance, signaling the start of the next activities. Wanda glances outside briefly before stepping close enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes your whole body heat up at once.

"Just listen to your instincts." She whispers, before pulling away with a small smile.

You write to Agatha about it the following evening, but you don't have the courage to seal the letter for sending. The whole conversation with Wanda seems too private to be shared in this way.

Although the woman said it was just an invitation, you could feel some pressure to make a decision, and it seems that the news had been circulating ever since one of the tutors couldn't find the box of the last chaos disciple pendant, and Wanda ended up mentioning that she had extended another invitation.

In a way, you were stalling. Between your activities and meetings, you hadn't made any decisions and you hoped that the end of the summer would force Wanda to choose someone else. But there was also the question of the new, burning feelings that had appeared since you first laid eyes on her, and which seemed to awaken every time you two were in the same environment.

The idea of departing, of leaving her behind like a closed chapter in your life, seemed absurd every passing day.

In your second month with the Chaos Children, you received a rather unusual request: take the prophet her morning drink.

The crumpled piece of paper was handed to you by one of your cabin mates: Kate Bishop. A former student, a little younger than you, who, after destroying a bell at the university, was sent here by her millionaire mother. Kate was to stay until she had balanced her irresponsible impulses and could take over the family's security empire.

She seemed a little reluctant to interrupt your concentration on cleaning the garden, but much more determined not to disappoint Wanda.

"Just give it to the kitchen staff, they'll know what to do. And prioritize, she doesn't like to wait." Said the girl, but you gave her hand a gentle tug before taking the paper.

"But why did she ask me?" you asked, but Kate had no idea and just shrugged before leaving the garden.

While the kitchen staff prepared the item, you tried to improve your appearance in the bathroom next to the lounge, wiping all the soil from the plants from under your fingers, and even what had run into your cheeks.

When you came out, there was another order on the counter and a small group of people who hadn't been there before. They didn't see you. Blonsky, accompanied by two other women you didn't know, were talking to each other.

"I bet it was Carter. She hasn't stopped talking about her private piano lessons with the Prophetess for four whole weeks." Said the first, but the other laughed quietly.

" Sharoon is a simp, that's all. Wanda wouldn't choose her after the episode with Rogers last year, she knows she can't trust her." Rebutted the other. "Besides, I would have assumed it was Bishop, after all, she already acts like a maid. Why train another when you already have one so dedicated?" The women laugh amongst themselves until they finally notice you approaching, and fall silent. Blonsky smiles, but he appears very vicious.

"Hello, miss. Wouldn't you like to have a say in who our next disciple is?" He asks you, but you shrug, moving forward in the queue in front of the canteen to grab the prophet's items that were clearly being prepared in priority.

"I don't know anything about it." That's your answer, but the shorter woman gets in your way.

"Come on, dear, it's easy." She begins with a giggle. "Every solstice, the prophetess chooses her disciples. There are 24 of them, 12 of whom will become apostles after their apprenticeship."

You grimace softly. "It's very biblical."

Blonsky chuckles. "Of course, it is, despite the multiculturalism of our group, Wanda was raised in a Jewish Christian home. You're not going to tell me you didn't know that?"

You clear your throat. "Not really. Sorry, I have to run."

But the man puts a hand in your way, only to stretch his body out on the counter and reach for some colored leaves that he crushes and drops into Wanda's glass.

"She likes it this way. I would know, I prepared many when I was her houseboy for the first few weeks here." He says, and you swallow dry, mumbling an awkward thank you before hurrying off.

The path is a little tiring, you think it makes sense of Wanda's physique if she had to climb that trail every day, and you mentally curse yourself for thinking about her body. It's not at all appropriate, honestly.

The door is open, but you knock anyway. The woman inside, wearing her typical long, loose dresses at the edge, is busy finishing a loose fringe in her hair and offers you a smile.

"Come in, dear."

You do so a little awkwardly, almost overwhelmed by the moment of entering the most private place in the whole camp. It's a beautiful cabin, you let her know, without stopping to admire the perfectly arranged surroundings. You would have thought that the privacy of this place would allow her to make some kind of personal mess, but everything is impeccably in place.

Wanda approaches to pick up the items, and the smile falters on her face at the first sip of her drink.

"Did you put... did you put maca root in this?" She asks, and your natural reaction is a short laugh.

"I didn't prepare it, Wanda."

But she doesn't smile again, her tone of voice remains the same but her attitude changes to one of false kindness. "My morning drink is an ashwagandha. I need my concentration to increase, not my libido." It really sounded like a scolding, and her attitude of handing the cup back to you, accompanied by the memory of the recent events, made your blood boil.

"Well, I'm not your fucking maid, so if it's not good, get another one downstairs, or even better, make it one yourself."

It's the first time you see any kind of fury in her gaze, hot and vibrant, and it makes something in you rouse. Your mention of leaving the cabin is prevented by her hands closing the door and trapping you against the wood.

Wanda takes a deep breath, and the gleam in her eyes changes. "Can I ask... where did this attitude come from?"

You hold the glass tightly against your body, very aware that you'll drop it if Wanda doesn't step away and let you breathe. "I just want to make things clear." You retort with a seriousness that doesn't do justice to the way your heart is racing. "I didn't come to this place to be your personal servant."

Wanda chuckles briefly, letting her gaze drop to your mouth. "Oh, of course not, darling." She whispers. "You're not the type to follow orders willingly. You'd do a terrible job."

Swallowing dryly, you retort: "And why am I here then?"

Wanda smiles innocently. "I asked you to bring my drink." It's her reply, clearly trying to tease you, and you snort impatiently.

"I bet you expected an answer. Well, I haven't made up my mind yet, so if there's nothing else, I'll just go."

Wanda moves to take the glass from you and put it on the table by the door. The next second, her hands are in yours.

"Don't be silly, of course, there's another reason." She retorts, pulling you along as she walks backward into the cabin. "I hear you love painting."

What you had assumed was her personal painting canvas is offered to you. The laugh that escapes you is shy and genuine.

"Wanda, I don't... paint anymore."

But she doesn't flinch, her hands still in yours. "I know you haven't since last semester. It was in the letter. But you've progressed so much, that I thought you could paint for me." When you don't answer, she makes such an adorable expression that your heart skips a beat. "Please?"

Wanda definitely knows how beautiful she is, and how those puppy-dog eyes can take her anywhere. You bite back a smile, agreeing, and almost forget to breathe when she jumps excitedly onto your neck, hugging it for a whole moment before letting go as if she hadn't turned you into a complete mess with one touch.

She doesn't complain about the cocktail again - instead, she drinks it entirely while you get comfortable on the painting stool, doodling for a few moments before starting to paint the only thing you could after so many months without touching a paintbrush.

It's only when the drawing is clearer on the frame that Wanda becomes restless again. Loud sighs take your attention away from the painting and towards her.

"Is something wrong?"

She smiles half-heartedly, and only now do you notice the soft color of her cheeks. "I shouldn't have ignored my own complaints and drunk that juice."

You frown in confusion, letting the brush rest next to the paints. "Was it that bad? If you want, I'll complain to the kitchen-"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head and you have to shut up because she reaches over to push the canvas out of the way and stops right in front of you, close enough to touch.

"Remember what I said? About focus and about... my libido." She asks, and you can swallow dryly, looking up in the direction of her dilated eyes. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing the weight of her body gently into yours. "Well, I suppose you'll have to see for yourself. Hold out your hand sweetheart, no, no, down... yes, you can move my dress out of the way." Your trembling fingers brushed against her knee, and immediately obeyed the order. Slowly making your way under her dress, while Wanda bit her lip and watched you draw patterns on her thighs. Finally, your fingers reached the side of her underwear. Instead of pulling it down, you let the inks drop to the ground, and your other hand went under her dress too, repeating the same path as before while you and Wanda panted together. Your face fell forward, flush into her dress, and you pressed your nose against her, inhaling deeply the scent of arousal she exhaled so strongly.

Her hands squeezed your shoulders as yours began to pull down her panties right away. A moment later, gracefully as everything so far, she kicked the item aside and spread her legs gently so that you could slide your fingers between more easily.

You looked up the second your index finger met her warmth, gasping at the mischievous smile of the woman in front of you.

"All this time I've been here..." You started hoarsely, your fingers spreading the wetness between her folds, and enjoying the way Wanda's breath caught in her throat. "Were you this wet?"

Despite the failure of her own breathing, and the way it's harder to stand up with your intimate stimulation, Wanda gives you a mischievous look and leans her forehead against yours, her red hair making a curtain between your faces.

"I get like this every time I'm around you." She confesses, giving you a provocative tug on your lower lip that forces you to thrust inside her with more determination. Almost enough for her to lose her pose. Almost. "It's disconcerting, to be honest."

Your thumb presses down firmly on her clit, and Wanda almost buckles into you, the delicious sound that escapes her throat will be in your dreams for sure. "Well, should I apologize, high sanctity?"

She chuckles at the teasing hidden in the nickname, before leaning in completely and capturing your mouth in a fervent kiss that takes you out of orbit for a whole moment, intense enough for you to whimper into her tongue, and force her hips down into yours, practically begging her to grind your lap. Wanda's response to this is a dirty giggle mixed with a moan into your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss that turns into a much hungrier one the next second, you get to your feet, adjusting your hands to grab her thighs to pull her onto your lap and carry her around the room. Between stumbles, you press each other against the various surfaces of the room, tables, and cupboards, exchanging increasingly hot and desperate kisses, and you're pretty sure you're going to have Wanda against the bookshelf if she keeps grinding into your abdomen like that.

In a pause for breath, when she's still wedged between you and the bookcase, your mouth descends on her jaw and Wanda struggles to keep her eyes open. She whimpers shamelessly as your curious hands advance down her body, pulling her dress out of the way and leaving it barely hanging off her body for you to clasp your palms over her now-bare breasts.

Her patience for release is quickly exhausted by the precise stimulation of her breasts, your eager fingers teasing and pinching her nipples until you turn her into a whimpering mess. She gives a determined tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your face back to hers in a hard, dirty kiss that makes you shudder. She breaks it only to give an order:

"On your knees." And you groan in obedience, falling to the floor almost at once, desperately pulling her dress aside to force your face into her, now with nothing in the way. Wanda arches her back once your hot mouth finds her drenched cunt; her hands desperate for some kind of support on the shelves behind her, while her chest heaves and her hips are restless against your face.

Your hungry mouth leisurely devours her, your tongue teasing her folds, spreading her wetness around and making a mess on your face. Your closed eyes show your dedication and surrender to the task, but Wanda tugs at your hair again, trying to gain a little control back and order you to quit the teasing and fuck her the way she needs you to. Fully dilated Irises then confronts her from between her legs, and Wanda loses her breath.

"Beautiful." She panted, staring back, shamelessly grinding herself into your face. "So beautiful... fuck... on your knees for me... oh, God, detka." She struggles to compliment you, but her native language begins to escape mixed with English shortly afterward, her climax approaching. You moan contentedly at the scene, aware of the state of your own underwear from all this play. Wanda's body begins to betray her, trying to pull away so you grab her thighs with a strong grip, and one of her legs ends up over your shoulder, increasing your reach just the way she needs it to fall over the edge.

Wanda comes on your tongue, spasming against the books, and in a deep moan. You don't let her pull away, keeping her restless hips in place as you lick your way through her previous climax in search of a new one. Soon her whimpering protests at the overstimulation turn into begging, and you fail to hide the smug smile at feeling her so at your mercy for a second time.

She's so close, so close, that the Sokovian comes back to her tongue, but there's a sudden knock on the door, and all the stimulation is interrupted by your fright. Wanda gasps incredulously, losing the time to react in time due to her own lust, and having to watch you stumble away - quickly wiping her cum from your chin with the back of your hand - as she tries not to fall down on her shaking knees.

"Why the fuck did you stop?" she asks in frustration through her teeth, but you, with a very flushed face, look at her with a certain desperation.

"Wanda, there's someone at the door!" You retort as if it were a very justifiable reason to steal an orgasm from her. Wanda huffs angrily, lunging at you and ignoring your confused eyes to pull you upright by the collar of your shirt, hurriedly throwing you onto the mattress. "W-wanda, what?"

"Quiet." She cuts in, pushing your shoulders until you're lying down and following the movement of your body to straddle your lap. The person outside knocks again, and although she's pulling her off, and is still shaking from her last orgasm, Wanda manages to speak in the same tone of voice as she does every morning meeting: "What is it?"

Your protests are muffled when Wanda sits on your face, and in fact, you would have forgotten any guests if Blonsky's voice hadn't sounded in the next second.

"Good morning, Reverend, I've come to join you for today's service." Says the man, but Wanda has to bite her lip hard because you're eating her out again, somehow even better than before. "Reverend?"

Wanda shakes her head, frowning at the difficulty of maintaining a rational thought when she has your tongue inside her. "Hm, I'm not going today, Blonsky... Deliver the service in my place." She fails to sound so breathless and has to close her eyes when your hands grip her thighs tightly, holding her down.

Blonsky then sounds concerned: "Aren't you feeling well, Reverence?"

Your nose nuzzles into her clit and Wanda reaches for the headboard, a satisfied sigh escaping her. "I feel great." She murmurs back and has to take a deep breath so that the next sound that escapes her isn't a moan. "Just busy. Anything else, Blonsky?"

The man clears his throat, Wanda has to press a hand against her own mouth as you reach another right spot.

"Hm, yes, Reverend... As you know, the deadline for the selection of the disciple is coming to an end." He begins, luckily unable to hear the muffled sighs inside the room through the closed door. "I have expressed my concerns to Your Reverence about a premature choice of new members-"

Wanda snorts impatiently. "Are you really going to question my choices again, Blonsky?"

"N-no, reverend!" He defends himself quickly. "Never. I just worry that the... affinity, that Your Reverence has acquired for some new members, might affect your judgment about their vocations. The premature choice of a disciple could result in their departure from our community, and we know how the withdrawal of one of our own affects everyone..."

"Don't worry about it." Wanda cuts dry, and now, she's remarkably close to climaxing. She doesn't care about the roughness, she thrusts her hips frantically into your face, muffling your breathless moans. "Y/N is the best choice... she's... so-god... dedicated and-hm... talented-" Wanda's lucky you're quick to react too. She would have screamed to the ceiling, exposing all the inappropriate activities in the room if you hadn't grabbed her thighs and spun her on her back onto the mattress. She didn't have time to lose this orgasm by the brief interruption of your movements - your fingers took the place of your tongue when you hovered above her, and your free hand covered her mouth when you sank inside her again.

Wanda came harder than before, squeezing your fingers and wetting the bed. She clings to your body in a desperate grasp, shocked by the achievement over her body, and grateful for the muffling of her moans. You keep thrusting until she stops squirting on the sheets.

You only remember that Blonsky is still outside because he speaks again. "I'll take your word for it, Your Reverence. And I hope you've made a good choice." He says at last, the sound of his footsteps moving away is ignored by you and Wanda, who meet in a hot kiss in the next second.

Your fingers continue to thrust lightly inside her, even though Wanda shudders from the excessive stimulation. And despite this, she also controls the kiss, which slows down so that she can ask in between: "Tell me, love. Did I do it? A good choice."

You kiss her a little harder. "I still don't know... what I want... or what I should do, Wanda."

She brings one of her hands up to your wrist, stopping your movements. You open your eyes to look at her. Wanda smiles, but her eyes are very mischievous. "You think too hard when the answer is right here." She retorts, giving your hand a gentle tug. You follow her lead, and soon, you have your drenched fingers with her cum inside your mouth. Your hips move instinctively, pressing down on her, and Wanda giggles mischievously, her free hand trailing down your back to encourage the movement. "Don't you want that, baby? You can be all mine."

You suck your fingerprints clean, removing them from your mouth to support yourself on the mattress now that you're so wildly grinding your hips against Wanda's thigh. She doesn't let you indulge in the sensation, grabbing your cheek and stopping your hips with the other at your silence.

Your soft protest is ignored, and your voice is almost a pathetic plea when it comes out. "It's not fair... I was feeling so good."

"Oh, darling, I can make you feel even better, every day if you decide to stay with me." She retorts, her grip softening on your cheek. You look at her, but there is still hesitation in your gaze and Wanda wishes to replace this doubt with something else. She kisses you but pulls away when you go to increase the intensity, ignoring your protest and pushing you gently away by the shoulders. "No playing, until I have an answer."

Wanda flees - because she doesn't think she'll live up to her words if she is under you - and slips out of bed before you can grab her back. Your next long protest is muffled against the mattress because you press your face down.

Wanda giggles half-heartedly as she stands up, reaches for her dress, and tries to adjust her appearance a little. "Thank you for the sex, sweetheart, it was a very pleasant surprise, but I can't let Blonsky lead a communion, he's not good at it. And you have errands, so if you'll excuse me..." Your silence made Wanda, now dressed, look at the bed again. To her surprise, you were sitting on the mattress, hanging something around your neck.

Your gaze met hers as the disciple chain was secure on your skin. The mischief in your gaze made her swallow. Twirling the symbol between your fingers, you smiled as you asked: "So how does this work? Should I confess my sins so that you can forgive me?"

"God offers forgiveness, not me." Wanda whispers back, brazenly watching you start to unbutton your shirt, the necklace hanging in the valley of your breasts is doing things to her.

"Hm, since I'm going to be forgiven, maybe I can sin a little more..." Wanda moved on instinct, crawling onto the bed to meet you halfway like a magnet being drawn towards you.

Your foreheads touched, and she sighed against your lips. "I should punish you for this blasphemy." She says, to which you smile naughtily before sticking out your tongue to tease her lips, eliciting a low moan from her.

"Promise?" You challenge, and Wanda gets tired of wasting time.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #kinktober 2023 #marvel imagines

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kozachenko · 10 months ago

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[Click image for better quality]

I FIGURED OUT A WAY TO FUCKING MAKE THE IMAGE SMALLER FOR POSTING ON TUMBLR WITHOUT SACRIFICING THE ACTUAL QUALITY OF THE IMAGE OH MY GOD

Ok so, what I did is go into the clip studio paint file, make a new file, copy and paste the group in the original file, merge everything, get rid of the extra stuff outside of the canvas, and then make the flattened image smaller and crop the canvas. Once you have that, export it and you're done. This helps maintain the actual quality of the image and also helps shrink the file size down to something actually postable (if anyone has a better way of doing this please tell me)

[Edit]: Ok I guess posting something to Tumblr just naturally compresses the image a bit more somehow because I'm looking at it now and zooming in too much makes it a bit blurry so I'm still gonna have to futz around with image quality for future pieces oof

Artist's Note:

I'm so glad I figured out a way to do this because I like working on a big canvas so I can get as much detail in as I possibly can. Only problems are how laggy it gets while drawing lol.

I had an idea for a drawing with Reimu and Zanmu because I really like thinking about their potential dynamic a lot. I also wanted an excuse to draw Zanmu again but in my normal rendering style because last time I drew her she was in my more sketchy style with generally flat colours so I wanted to draw her again. Speaking of, looking at the sketch for this is a jumpscare that I never enjoy seeing, like, man am I glad I didn't use those for my final piece.

Also about her spear. I was originally gonna make it like the ones she had in game, but it kinda threw off the whole piece. It was too big, too blue, and too flat, so I just went "fuck it" and gave her a different one instead. My headcanon justifying this is that the ones she uses in game are for danmaku battles whereas in any other fight she just uses a proper yari, or she still uses the yari and just makes it all glowy to power it up, maybe both lol. I pulled as much inspiration as I could from Sengoku era spears, and even put in some blue into the decorative part of the spear and also added a little skull to pay tribute to the original spear. Also, in my research I saw some art of izanami and izanagi making japan and saw that the yari izanagi has had a little decorative tassley thingy on it so I took some inspo from that and just made it one of Zanmu's tassles (Idk when that art was from or if the spear was still accurate to Sengoku period Japan but hey, probably the same reasons Eirin puts little bow ties on her arrows, it's just for personalization purposes).

I love rendering hair and clothes so much omg, while I like the super curly hair Zanmu, the longer, wavier hair suits her better for this drawing (I imagine it only does that like how Ghibli characters hair moves when they feel angry lol). I love making Zanmu's hair all messy and crazy, as well as giving her grey hairs, this woman has aged like a fine wine. Also, if the hem on the ends of her sleeves, top of her shirt, and her pants look like gold to you, that's because it is! It's fairly light so she's not collapsing under the weight, but it's gold! (I don't care how impractical it is, it's just cool). Not the undershirt though, it's made of a gold fabric. I had a cute idea with Reimu's hair to make it have a red shine to it. I also changed up Reimu's outfit so it isn't just a blob of red. I like it a lot when Reimu's skirt and outfit is segmented into different layers, so I wanted to incorporate that.

I tried to draw their hands differently as well, but IDK how noticeable that is. Also, I am super happy with how the side profiles for the two of them turned out, I used to struggle a lot with how to make the side profile of a character actually look like the character, so I'm really happy that they actually look like themselves.

Also added in the tree and rocks in the background as an homage to Zanmu's character art in Touhou 19, just because I was getting kinda stumped on what to do with the background lol.

In terms of a story idea with Reimu and Zanmu, idk why but the potential plotline of Zanmu wanting to ascend to godhood is so fascinating to me. Like, it is very possible that if she just convinced everyone she was a god (which would be very easy for her to do), she would become one in a heartbeat. Also, if she were to become a god, with her ability to return stuff to nothing, could she hypothetically get similar abilities to (Jojo Part 5 spoiler btw) GER? Like, idk about the death timeloop stuff, but the concept has been haunting me every night as I have been trying to find loopholes in GER's ability for a while now ( for no reason in particular). Back to the main topic, I imagine that she would probably tell Reimu that if she were to become a god she would take over the Hakurei shrine since the god there might as well be dead, and Reimu just says to her, "Over my dead body bitch." Like, I have no idea how to summarize their dynamic but like, it's the type of hero-villain dynamic where the phrase "We're not so different, you and I" would definitely be a phrase said during a fight. I think that if another IN style game were to release, Reimu and Zanmu would be in a team together. They could also have an interesting mentor and pupil kind of dynamic. Can you tell that Zanmu has been charging my mind rent these part few months? Like, instead of living in my head rent free, she kinda just uno reversed the whole situation and now she's the one charging me rent. What happens if I get evicted from my own brain? Actually, scratch that, I don't think I wanna know.

#touhou project #art #fanart #touhou fanart #touhou 19 #touhou #東方project #zanmu nippaku #unfinished dream of all living ghost #reimu hakurei #東方

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morganbritton132 · 2 years ago

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I like to imagine Eddie as kind of a Justin Hawkins or Jack White type. Absolute genius and was MASSIVE for a somewhat brief period, and certain people still go wild when they see him, but his fame has simmered down to a comfortable ‘can still walk into a starbucks’ level. I love the tik too saga, it’s so immersive!

Oh, absolutely! When Corroded Coffin was at their peak, Eddie was the guy – he was the guy in the band that you knew. He was the Jello of the Dead Kennedys, if you will. It is an unspoken thing that people came to see Corroded Coffin to see Eddie. Eddie is Corroded Coffin. Everybody else was happy enough to make money and play music without being mobbed.

There was a time when Eddie was wearing hoodies and sunglasses so no one would recognize him. But once the band’s popularity started to drop off and he got more into the behind the scenes aspect of making music, he no longer needed that.

It does lead to some pretty funny internet moments.

Some mom will post to a Moms Against Bullying Facebook page about how her son is really into interactive roleplaying games and was being bullied for it. One day when they’re out shopping, they go into this café to get a snack and sit down next to this man painting a miniature. Her son got really excited about it and just talked this man’s ear off for an hour and the man was just as nice as can be. He was really responsive and enthusiastic, and made her son really happy.

Then she posts a picture of her son with famous rockstar Eddie Munson.

There’s a YouTube video of a girl documenting her journey to buying a guitar. She has been saving up all summer and was finally going to buy the guitar she wanted. She gets to the shop and the guitar that she originally wants is marked up so she doesn’t have enough money for the guitar and lessons.

While she’s debating what to do, an employee tells her that this random man buying strings paid for the guitar and a year’s worth of lessons. She sees this head of curly dark hair and a leather jacket leaving the store and runs to catch up to him.

She thanks him and he’s just like *devil horns* rock on. The comment section of the video is just like, EdDiE mUnSoN????

Someone has a story about their tire blowing out on the freeway and the person that pulls over to help them change it is the guitarist and the drummer from a nineties metal band. There’s another story about how someone’s kid was struggling with their homework at the library and a man renting VHS tapes called his husband to help figure out the problems.

Then because of Eddie’s TikTok account, all these stories are brought back up when people realize that they met him and didn’t know. Some people are like, “if I hang out in the downtown Chicago area will I also meet Eddie Munson?”

Occasionally, he’ll get filmed when he’s out in public or someone will come up asking for a picture and he’s fine with that. He thinks that’s cool. He’s less okay with people who blatantly put down his TikTok fans because they knew him first or people who mess with Steve.

#Eddie being a random cryptid do-gooder is something that is so personal #eddie munson #eddie munson tiktok saga

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cloveroctobers · 1 year ago

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OCTOBER PROMPTS 🎃 — 13. Tara Carpenter

A/N: The way y’all voted on that poll was a true landslide lol I guess I didn’t realize how huge the tara stans are. So here goes something for my final fall prompt, hope this doesn’t flop like scream 7 will 🤭🤫🫠 but this is a short and simple ending so I do hope you enjoy this.

PROMPTS are from HERE & HERE + I’m using: going to a pumpkin patch + “you look cold, do you want a hug?” + “you think someone died here?”

WARNINGS: slight language I think? Dark humor. Age-difference: with Tara being twenty-one and oc/reader being twenty-five/six + Chad and Tara never became a thing in this timeline!

<- read my previous october anthology prompt here.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✧˖°. ☼ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✧˖°. ☼ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✧˖°. ☼ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩ ⁺˚

Being at a pumpkin patch in mid-November when the skies were painted like pale ice in a frozen lake and the trees lost their copper leaves for good was questionable for Tara. The air no longer had its crispness to it but it started to feel more along the lines of a wild animal taking bites out of your face here in New York. However Tara couldn’t find herself complaining—well despite the fact that Sam turned this into a group outing—Tara couldn’t wait to see Johnnie.

Johnnie was Sam’s age, older than Tara, and easily became likable in Tara’s eyes although Sam often gave Johnnie a hard time even in the beginning. Of course they still had to be cautious but Tara always stood on the fact that she just wanted to live life after it’s been at risk of being taken away for good. She wouldn’t be as naive as last year but something about Johnnie had Tara’s insides turning into mush—in a good way though—not in a decaying guts kind of way.

The train ride was recommended by Johnnie to her family’s farm from the city and that became a whole debacle between the friends, until Tara waved her phone in the air saying that she already purchased a ticket while the rest could spend forever trying to figure out what they wanted to do. Mindy found this humorous how whenever Johnnie was mentioned, Tara made it her mission to be tuned into the conversation if she checked out.

Mindy was the first to pick up on the signs before Tara did and took great pride in Tara coming to her first out of the core four. Chad would argue against that saying he was actually the first since Tara did start to vent when they pulled a all nighter together. However he actually had no clue who Tara could be talking about and ended up eavesdropping when she chatted to Mindy one afternoon when he was supposed to be studying…basically pick a twin to believe at this point.

Tara couldn’t wipe the smile off her face on the train ride, fingers rapidly flying over her screen to the dimpled grin on her face when she spotted Johnnie helping out at the entrance of her family’s pumpkin patch.

“They’re with me, cousin.” Johnnie informs the family member with hair as white as snow, before grabbing up the walkie to contact someone else to head to the front and help out, now being off the clock with her friends here.

“Can we get more free perks for Christmas?” Chad asks as they briefly embrace and Johnnie rolls her eyes.

Johnnie folded her arms, “Why? So you can continue bringing your flings around and eat their tongues instead of enjoying the scenery?”

Chad frowned, “who are these flings that you speak of? I’m here enjoying the pumpkins with my favorite sister.”

As he goes to toss an arm over the curly haired girl’s shoulder, she shoves him away, “save it for the jury, Chad. I saw you eyeing that pretty girl with the shell earrings and racer jacket not too long ago.”

“I mean…she could be the one.” Chad couldn’t even bother to deny his wandering eyes.

Sam, Mindy, and Tara all share a groan while Danny snickers at Chad’s usual antics before being elbowed by Sam.

“Hey Tara,” Johnnie says, falling into step with the smaller girl; after informing everyone of the many activities the farm included.

Tara smiles up at her, “Hey Johnnie…remind me why we’re going pumpkin hunting so late into the season?”

“Well…I’m having a Friendsgiving next weekend at my spot and…that maybe partly true but I also wanted to hang out with you again before that.” Johnnie was honest with this, which made Tara slowly nod her head in appreciation.

Johnnie used to attend the same university as the three, received her degrees, started her business of creating designs on amputee’s prosthetics and moved to New Jersey two months ago to purchase her own home. So her having her shit together was definitely inspiring (and not to mention attractive) in Tara’s eyes and although she didn’t have everything figured out herself, one thing she was sure of: spending time with Johnnie felt right, scary yet comfortable and safe.

“Ohhh that’s right, I almost forgot about that.” Tara widens her eyes in realization, cursing to herself that she actually did forget about this but knew she could blame it on being swamped in school work, while Johnnie stumbles.

With a hand on her chest, she sighs playfully, “you wound me carpenter.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tara replies with a longing stare as they approach the line in front of a few booths.

Johnnie leans towards Tara who doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath, “what’re you in the mood for?”

“…hmm?” Tara asks, quickly pulling her eyes back to the line when Johnnie tries to catch her eye.

Johnnie laughs, “the menu. Anything catch your interest?”

“Well,” Tara starts as the autumn chill washes over the attendees on the farm, making her hunch her mesh covered shoulders a bit and clasp her hands together, “what would you recommend?”

“Everything.”

Tara scoffs as Johnnie winks at her.

“Can you even see the menu up ahead?”

“I’m not blind.”

“Nah, just short.” Johnnie teases while Tara quickly tosses a middle finger at the older girl.

Johnnie laughs to herself, picking up on tara’s attire which failed to keep her warm on this breezy farm. So Johnnie takes the opportunity to stand behind Tara instead, who is now bouncing on her tippy toes to what may seem like she was attempting to see the menu but it was probably to keep her blood flowing better.

Tara’s almost ready to swing until her belly realizes the familiar rasp by her ear, “you look cold, do you want a hug?”

Before her mouth can fumble out an answer, tatted hands come into Tara’s view as Johnnie locks her arms across Tara’s shoulders. She doesn’t find herself going stiff but easily welcomes Johnnie’s touch. A small smile graces Tara’s lips as her eyes fall in love with the dainty details of ink that decorate Johnnie’s skin. The artwork tells a story of Johnnie’s big heart which some may view as a contrast to her androgynous exterior much like the striking scar through Tara’s palm. That same scar Johnnie lightly draws a fingertip over from time to time and does so right now as Tara buries her nose against the side of Johnnie’s tatted other thumb.

Tara can even smell the balance of scents on Johnnie’s warm skin, a light creamy but earthy scent that makes Tara envision curling underneath blankets and staring out at Misty mountains instead of crowded streets full of loud voices, and suspicious faces. A sense of serenity that Tara wasn’t sure she’d ever find until she met Johnnie.

“What ya smiling at?”

Tara pries her eyes open, knowing she had been caught but keeps her eyes on the line that she didn’t realize moved forward some. “Nothing. You just think you’re so smooth when you could have been said you wanted to hold my hand earlier.”

Johnnie quickly places a peck to Tara’s temple so fast that she thinks she imagines it, “I want to do more than just hold your hand,” Johnnie ends up whispering before unraveling herself from Tara, who has to fight to hold herself up right.

“S’orry.” She mutters to those behind her as Johnnie takes the lead, heading right up to the stand, falling into small chatter with the worker before introducing an awkward Tara.

Tara is wide eyed as Johnnie banters back and forth for a little before they both set eyes on Tara.

“What?” Tara raises a brow, finding that she’s zoned out again just gazing at Johnnie socialize.

“You strike me as a apple nacho’s kinda girl.” The male worker says while Johnnie pretends to think about it.

“I’d say a apple cider donut but you’re of course welcome to try whichever or anything else on the board.” Johnnie responds, “on me.”

Tara tilts her head to the side, “what’re you getting?”

“The apple nachos,” Johnnie states.

Tara nods, “then I’ll get the donut…as long as you share.”

“Sure, sure. Anything you want,” Johnnie beams before turning back to the man, “you heard the lady!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He fans Johnnie with a knowing look before shouting out to the cooks off to the side.

With a carton tray full of crisp apple pastries—nachos, a side of caramel, two forks, and a yellow bag full of mini apple cider donuts, the two continued traveling through the large field together.

“Where have these been my entire life?” Tara groans after savoring the dessert.

Johnnie laughs, “right up here on this farm, I take it you’re enjoying those nachos?”

“Enjoying? More like I’d love to marry them! Can’t you tell by the way I’m murdering these bitches?! Perfect crunch on the outside and crisp from the apple on the inside, all with a side of caramel sauce?! It’s so delicious to the point i can’t even apologize for the noises you’re hearing because it’s your fault and I hope we finish them before the rest try to get any.” Tara admits through her rant while Johnnie abruptly stops.

Tara lifts her head, ready to question what was going on but Johnnie steered them in a different direction, “then we better head the other way since they’re all up by the goats and llamas.”

“Good call,” Tara says peeking over her shoulder to see Sam all cuddled up with Danny.

Disgustingly so.

Johnnie’s family farm was nice to be at although the temperature was constantly dropping but there weren’t many people out this evening, which was fine by Tara. The further they circled around the farm the closer they got to one of the rides here. It was the Ali baba—the large swing on the boot of a bulldozer? The pair stood beside each other outside the gate, watching as a few faces disappeared higher into the now gravel colored sky from side to side.

“you think someone died here?” Tara asks around the donut she previously stuffed her freckled face with.

Johnnie glances at tara and rotates to her better ear, “huh?”

The air from the ride and the earth along with the carnival music made it a bit difficult but after tara finishes the donut she speaks a bit louder, repeating the question, “you think someone died here?”

A couple shoot Tara a nasty look as they exit from behind the fence and Johnnie smirks at them with a mocking wave, leaning against the metal gate. Tara let’s out a snort as she leans towards Johnnie.

“Where’s that coming from?” Johnnie sweeps Tara’s bangs to the side.

Tara shrugs, “apparently horror films are not just a one month thing with Mindy. We’re now on your favorite series: final destination.”

Johnnie dips her head in understanding, “Ah,” and almost feels flattered that Tara remembered, “well this farms been open for about fifteen years and that ride’s only been around for the past five maybe? As far I know…no deaths. Why? You wanna get on?”

“Hell yeah I do,” Tara nods with a grin, “and I don’t care that I may puke everything up. As long as you promise to hold my hand.”

Johnnie taps her chin before matching Tara’s smile after lightly pressing their foreheads together, “I think I can do that, babe.”

‘Babe?!’ Tara thinks to herself as Johnnie takes their trash to the nearest barrel before meeting Tara half way with her hand held out.

And Tara doesn’t hesitate as she slips her smaller hand into Johnnie’s tatted one. She gives Tara’s hand a squeeze, fingers interlocked which Tara gazes down at while Johnnie watches Tara. When tara flicks her brown doe eyes back to meet Johnnie’s, they smile sweetly once more, feeling like this could be the start of—nope not something new! but a romance worth taking a stab-wait that’s not right either! chance on.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✧˖°. ☼ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✧˖°. ☼ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✧˖°. ☼ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩ ⁺˚

#Spotify #queued #scream #scream 2023 #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #Tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #sam carpenter #scream 7 #fall prompts #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin

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yanderepuck · 4 months ago

Text

Salai-Chapter 16

WELCOME TO SALAI'S ROUTE. This is a FAN MADE route of my oc, Salai. This means this route contains my headcanons for the characters and in no way is suppose to represent the canon story. This is just a fun little time because I know many of you enjoy Salai. Feel free to engage, talk theories, send asks (even to @ask-salai ).

DISCLAIMER: His route his not canon to his character. Also, all of his lore in not in the route for simplicity reasons plus please feel free to ask about him.

Banner by @spooscribbles

You didn’t spot Salai at breakfast the next day. Considering how much he enjoys food you were a little surprised. Not that he comes often, but you didn't see Leonardo either. They must be together. You make a tray of food for Salai and Leonardo and walk around to see where they could be.

After checking the parlor, library, and Leonardo's room you finally heard them talking down the hall. You get excited and hurry to the room. The door is cracked open. Since you've been here it has always been closed, which means this must be the room Comte gave to Salaì.

You peer in to see the two of them sitting on the floor surrounded by papers, notebooks, clothes, and a bunch of small random items.

Leonardo: I can't believe you kept all this

Salaì: I couldn't part with any of it. I tried to keep everything I could

Leonardo is looking through some notebooks, fanning through the pages. You push open the door, mindful of what could be on the other side.

Mitsuki: I really hope your room doesn't end up looking like Leonardo's.

Leonardo: keep hoping. He's not much better than me

Salaì: I'm cleaner than you!

He pouts at him while Leonardo chuckles

Leonardo: only because you have less

He ruffles his curly hair and continues looking through everything he has. You look around the room. The floor and walls are darker, and there's already a bookcase set up against a wall with some things thrown on it. Some canvases are leaning against the far wall with his easel already set up. A bag of what you are guessing his paints and brushes are beside it. Batuffola is asleep on the bed, curled up in a ball. Salaì stands up, adding papers to an already made stack.

Mitsuki: What are you two doing?

Salaì: Maestro wanted to see what all I still had of his, and then we're trying to figure out what to do with it

Leonardo: It's called organizing, cara mia

Mitsuki: Huh… I didn't think you knew that word. I brought you two some food since you didn't come to breakfast.

Salaì comes over and looks at what is on the tray.

Salaì: Ooo. Thank you, polpetta~

Leonardo chokes on a laugh. That's right. He hasn't actually heard Salaì call you that. He turns around to look at Leonardo.

Salaì: What’s so funny?

Leonardo: Of course it's you who called her that.

Salaì: What? She's a cute polpetta~

He looks back at you with a smile and Leonardo can't hold back his laugh this time.

Mitsuki: You aren't going to stop calling me that, are you?

Salaì: Nope!

He takes the tray from you and brings you further into the room. When he sets it down, it's on top of a small pile of papers. He's clearly going to be just as messy. You sit on the edge of the bed and pet Batuffola as you watch the two look over things. Leonardo takes the apple from the tray and eats it as he shuffles around papers.

Leonardo: I thought I just lost a lot of these.

Salaì: I've kept them all together and tried to mess with them as little as possible so they wouldn't fade.

You try looking at them but you can't make out anything. You can see that there are some sketches mixed in.

Mitsuki: Sebastian and Theo would go insane to be able to see these

Salai: What is Sebastian’s deal anyway? He was asking me a bunch of questions last night

Leonardo: Don’t worry. You’ll get a bunch more.

Mitsuki: Sebastian and I are from the 21st century. He used to be a historian and since you don’t appear in textbooks as much he’s going to have a lot to ask.

Salai looks at you surprised. That’s right, he didn’t know you weren’t from this time.

Salai: Seems like I still have a lot to learn about you~

You felt your cheeks warming. Leonardo hit the back of Salai’s head.

Salai: Hey!

Leonardo: Don’t start flirting with cara mia

Salai: Aw, are you jealous~

Leonardo: She’s too nice to be messing around with someone like you

Salai had leaned against Leonardo, while he flipped through a book. What did he mean by that? Salai didn’t seem to take it as an insult, but you weren’t taking it as a compliment. Come to think of it, you have a lot to learn about him as well.

In the evening after dinner, you bring coffee and tea into the parlor. Dazai and Arthur are playing chess while Salai is on the couch watching. You offered to get everyone drinks, but when you came back they all had a glass of whiskey, the bottle almost gone already.

Mitsuki: You could have told me not to bother.

You set the tray down and take your drink from it.

Dazai: Andrea-san should have told us sooner that he wanted a drink

Dazai moved a piece on the chess board. Salai looks at Dazai, a little confused.

Arthur: That’s not how you move that piece.

Dazai: Sure it is.

Arthur: I just want to play by normal rules

Arthur puts his face in his hands, groaning.

Dazai: Not my fault my queen wants to have an affair with your queen.

He sips his whiskey while Arthur groans louder. You lean into Salai.

Mitsuki: Did I miss something?

He shrugs.

Salai: I don’t know how to play chess to begin with.

Arthur: Take Dazai’s spot ‘n’ let me teach ye.

Salai: You sure?

Arthur: I wid rather play with Jean than play with Dazai

Dazai: You just don’t know the fun ways to play.

Dazai and Salai switch seats while Arthur resets the board. You chuckle as you hear more of Arthur’s accent come through. The whiskey must already be getting to him. Arthur finishes his glass and sets it down.

Arthur: These only shift forward one space. These shift forwards, backwards ‘n’ tae the side. ‘N’ these go diagonal.

He points to each piece explaining what it does, the more he talks the more his words are getting jumbled together. You look at Salai’s face. He is completely lost and you know it.

Arthur: Git it?

Salai just blinks, trying to process anything he just said.

Mitsuki: I don’t think playing with you is going to teach him much, Arthur.

Arthur: ‘n’ why not?

Salai: you got drunk quickly

Arthur: I ain’t drunk

Dazai sets his empty glass down and stands up, helping Arthur out of the chair.

Dazai: Let’s get you to bed

Arthur protests but ends up following Dazai out of the parlor.

Mitsuki: For someone who goes to the pub a few times a week he sure is a light weight.

Salai: And what about you?

He refills his glass and pours another, handing it to you.

Salai: How well do you handle your alcohol?

You take the glass, looking at it for a moment before answering.

Mitsuki: I think I hold it fairly well

Salai: then bottoms up!

He clinks his glass with yours and drinks from it. You hesitate for a moment but then take a sip. You aren’t much of a whisky drinker but it’s not bad.

Before you know it the bottle is empty and you are sitting in his lap, sideways, leg over the arm of the chair. He drank a good bit more than you but he seems fine while you are giggly. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Mitsuki: …and Dazai filled all of them with water and filled it with fish

You both laugh.

Salai: That explains the big pond in the garden

Mitsuki: He won’t even use a door

You giggle again and close your eyes. His arm behind your back starts to rub your arm.

Salai: Let me take you to bed

He starts to get in the right position to pick you up.

Mitsuki: Nooo

You lift up your head and sit up, trying to prove that you aren’t tired.

Mitsuki: I’m awake, I’m awake.

Salai: Not for long.

Mitsuki: You drank much more than me, how are you okay?

Salaì: I don't think you want to know how much it takes to get me drunk.

Mitsuki: Maybe I do.

You start to tease him. You want to know more about him after all. It feels like a lot of effort but you drape your arms over his shoulders, clasping your hands together around his neck. He's not going anywhere but it looks like you are trying to keep him close.

Mitsuki: Andrea, why do you-

Leonardo: What are you two doing?

You turn your head a little too fast and feel the room spin. Leonardo takes a few steps into the room. You then remember what Leonardo said earlier about you being too nice.

Salaì: We're just talking, maestro.

He takes your hands off of him. It feels like he is pushing you away. You keep your focus on Leonardo, not able to help it but pout.

Leonardo: talking huh?

Walking into the scene it seemed like the two of you drank a whole bottle of whiskey yourselves.

Salaì: Mitsuki was just about to go to bed, right?

You didn't answer, you weren't even listening. You're still focused on what Leonardo could have meant. Salaì has been nothing but nice to you, maybe a little flirty but he's never overstepped a boundary. You are only snapped out of it when Leonardo tries to help you up.

Mitsuki: No!

You immediately push him away and get to your feet yourself. Your cheeks are flushed not only from the alcohol but from rage.

Mitsuki: Andrea has been nothing but nice to me! I don't know how long it's been but he's clearly changed since you were last with him. But you would know that if you weren't an ass and abandoned him!

Leonardo: Cara mia, plea-

Mitsuki: Don't cara mia me! You turned him, which makes you responsible for him, right!?

Leonardo: It's not that-

Mitsuki: Right!?

You got closer to Leonardo, glaring up at him. You didn't want to stop until you had some answers.

Leonardo: Yes…

Mitsuki: You messed up and maybe you should try to fix it!

You stumbled a little bit but you weren't going to back down. Your voice got lower, almost like you are threatening him

Mitsuki: Rather than thinking in the past you should worry about making things better.

Leonardo didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. Salaì stayed quiet, worried about interrupting you. You turned around to face Salaì, no rage on your face, but still flushed.

Mitsuki: Can you help me to my room?

Salaì: y-yeah

He looked between you and Leonardo. He felt like the two of them should talk, but he wasn't going to tell you no. He gets up and walks you out of the room and down the hall.

Only a few steps down the hall and he had to carry you the rest of the way. You were barely able to tell him which room was yours. You kept drifting in and out of sleep. Salaì sets you on your bed and you hold onto him so he can't leave.

Salaì: Mitsuki. You need to let go.

Mitsuki: What made you not give up?

Salaì: Huh?

Mitsuki: Looking for Leonardo. He left you. You should hate him.

Salaì: I wish I understood it too.

He tries to free himself but you still won't let go.

Mitsuki: Not good enough.

Salaì sighs and tries to think. His feelings are complicated to the point where he isn't fully sure.

Salaì: He's my maestro. He took me in, took care of me, taught me, then turned me. All of my memories are with him. He's all I had for centuries. How could I not go after him? I had been alive for so long but I still felt lost and didn't know what to do. Besides, what happened was my fault. I would never blame maestro for-

You quickly pulled him down so that your lips would meet. You may have wanted an answer but he needed to shut up before you got upset again. He wanted to pull away but he couldn’t. He would blame that on you but the truth is that he couldn’t force himself. He steadied himself while you pulled on the collar of his shirt. He finally kisses you back.

Feeling him give in you let go of the fabric and instead wrap your arms around his body. It doesn’t take long for Salai to take charge. The bed caving in under his weight, accepting that he isn’t leaving your room tonight.

~~~

Masterlist | Previous | Next | Side Story

Tag list: @chandeliermichel @fang-and-feather @namine-somebodies-nobody @evil-quartett @lokis-laugh @candied-boys @breadmercury @aquagirl1978 @xenokiryu @lulu-the-smol-floof @tako-cafe @floydsteeth @spoopy-fish-writes @weird-profiterole @love-v @lamislovelies @specters0rd @morgiemorg @solacedeer

If you would like to be added to the list please let me know

Ko-Fi

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp salai #ikevamp oc

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25shadesoffebruary · 2 years ago

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it’s not that deep

Fandom: only friends

Couple: TopBoston

Rating: Mature

Notes: that first line has to do with a thought Boston had about a threesome between himself, Top and Nick and if Nick would be offended if he brought Top into their little sex situation-ship. (But I was too lazy to write that part but just so you know that’s what it’s about.) it’s a snippet.

Boston wonders if Nick would be okay with that, then thinks, why the fuck should he care?

Nick wasn’t anything. He and Nick shared nothing. He could find another pretty face curly-hair big eyed pink lipped sweet smelling man in the next club over.

But Top, Top was another story.

It wasn’t that he was in love with Top because he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He’s not entirely sure he has the chemical his brain is supposed to produce to give him that feeling.

But he feels something when he’s with Top. And that something- the rushing of his pulse, the tingling under his skin, the repeating thoughts of Top Top Top and kiss kiss kiss and swallow him devour him consume him runs in his head anytime they’re alone- has to mean something.

Sometimes even when they’re among other people, those thoughts are at the forefront of his mind.

Lately, these thoughts scream at him when he sees Top kissing Mew. He looks at those two in their love bubble. Faces close together, bodies even closer than that. It makes his skin hot, his stomach turns over, he feels bile in his throat, and it burns.

He can’t look at them for too long. He’s barely been able to look at Mew since he saw how stupidly devoted Top is to Mew. He still can’t believe it. Top in a relationship? Him? Of all people? And with Mew.

Don’t get him wrong, his best friend is great. He loves him dearly.

It was just that- they didn’t fit.

One of the main reasons Boston chose Top to flirt with and loosen up with Mew was because he knew they were the opposite. That their type of love language, Mew’s type, was far from what Top was. He figured they would kiss. Mew would finally get laid. Mew would thank him for being the best friend ever, and done. They were never to see each other again.

Boston never expected this. He never predicted they would like each other. Yet alone, desire to be with one another. As a couple? Mew and Top? It didn’t make sense. They didn’t fit.

Mew belongs to someone like Ray. To someone who will put the effort into making time for him. Being able to show him the emotions that he knows Top lacks simply doesn’t have it in him to fully put on display for Mew.

The only emotion he’s ever shown Boston was lust.

And Top,

Top belongs to someone like Boston.

Boston didn’t need any emotions to be shown or talked about. He needs a willing body and a guy with a tongue that makes him see stars.

And Top had both qualities.

A body that Boston likes to run his hands over constantly. Shoulders and a muscle-ridden back that was made for Boston to dig his nails into as Top fucked him into the mattress.

A wicked tongue that made him see stars. And it didn’t even have to be wrapped around his dick. Being kissed by him made him see the stars, moons, and comets.

Like now, Boston snatches the phone out of Top’s hand the second he ends the FaceTime call with Mew. He throws the phone behind him, barely hearing where it lands before he’s crowding Top against the door.

Top frowns and says, “My phone.”

Boston smiles and says, “You can afford to buy another one.”’ then slots their lips together.

And it feels.

It feels.

Feels,

He feels.

The feeling lingers. It lingers between the shedding of clothes. Between being fingering fucked open. The lube dripped onto the hardwood kitchen floors. It expands in pulsating waves throughout Boston’s body when Top finally slides inside. He fucks him hard and fast against the dining table Mew and Ray helped him build.

He fucks him against the wall where a painting that Mew picked out hangs next to his head.

Fucks him long and deep on top of his bed, hand holding down his head and the picture of his friends ( of mew smiling at him) in his eyesight.

He blinks, frowns, and almost asks Top to stop, but then Top blocks his view of the picture. And all Boston can see is a shade of brown worth drowning in. Top is pulling his hair and lifting his face toward his lips. He closes his eyes. All he can feel is pleasure. The pleasure of Top kissing him.

All he can feel is Top and himself and the pleasure they give each other.

He feels every inch of Top when he does this. It makes the tingling under his skin feel like blue fire. It makes him feel like he is burning alive. Boston thinks the only reason he hasn’t exhausted himself to ashes is because Top keeps providing him with oxygen.

He keeps the fire within him growing and glowing stronger and stronger each time he kisses him, fucks him, and makes time for him.

And Boston never got it before why people stayed in relationships that weren’t mutually beneficial or why cheaters never just left their partners before they cheated. Or why people stayed even though they got cheated on. It never really made sense to him. He was a strong advocate for putting yourself first and fuck everybody else.

But he realizes now, or maybe he knew long ago before Mew and Top were ever a thing, that chasing that high of being wanted was addicting.

And he’s not saying he’s addicted to Top, but Boston doesn’t see how he could ever give this up.

#only friends #only friends the series #TopBoston #BostonTop #I wrote this for two reasons 1. I needed more content that related to Boston and top #and 2 I’m writing for every couple at some point it’s not a a boat but a cruise ship of couples

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cutpaperbleedswater · 11 months ago

Text

In the mirror is the reflection of a dead man walking

He’s rushing around looking for that one item his daughter just has to have in her bag. A simple dark green bag with dandelions he painted himself, branding her indirectly as theirs. This time the formerly mentioned item is a hair brush.

“Daad, I know I don’t have curly hair like you but I did inherit the thickness, it’s going to be windy today, I need my hair brush.”

So now she’s probably stood by the door, tapping her foot in the floor, arms crossed, waiting for him, because the walk upstairs would ‘ruin her shoes’.

Though anyone who has ever met him couldn’t even lie saying he’s a quiet walker, he manages to acquire the hairbrush from her room without disturbing the shadows that flee at the slightest movement. He carefully twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, with precision owed to his art.

When he arrives back downstairs, he holds out the hairbrush and his daughter flies into him, wrapping her arms around him, initiating a hug he returns before lightly tapping her shoulder to say it’s time to go. Katniss smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek before herding their children out of the door, leaving him alone, like every morning. He dreams of the day both his son and daughter are old enough to walk themselves so he can have just that bit more time with Katniss.

Sighing, he begins his loud pursuit up the stairs with the intention of perhaps having a shower, grabbing his clothes from their bedroom. He steps into their en-suite and promptly stumbles back. Looking back at him is a man dead and gone a good 25 years ago at the very least.

Frantic blue eyes whiz back and forth across the mirror, he watched the pupils bounce backward and forward until his head starts to spin. He frantically looks up to his hair, a slightly darker blonde, with looser curls that only add to the image of his father. The kindness and vibrancy in his eyes, the well rounded jaw-line, soft face. Even to him, his neck is the same. Then a blink. This time he does fall back. His father. He is the carbon copy of a dead man. Overtime the initial boyness of his appearance has been chipped away, revealing someone he likes to think looks more stable. In his childhood he remembers the comments everyone made about the Mellark boys’ strong genes, he felt proud, happy to feel included, but now he just feels despair. Only one of those four are alive and that’s him, the one who still marvels about how he still breathes. He remembers people saying him and his older, but not oldest, brother could pull off being twins. And then the very rare old person stopping him in the street to say he looked exactly like his father at whatever age it was. Now no one needs to tell him (the ones that would anyway are nearly all dead) that. At the sight, despair pools in his lungs, coating his insides with it.

After years, going on decades, he finally wonders if his father would be proud of the person his son is. He likes to think he would; he continues the legacy of being a generous tradesman, his kindness still digs under peoples skin, he doesn’t normally let out frustration by means of violence on anything other than kneading the dough a bit aggressively. He’s an active figure in his children’s lives, they can trust him. He’s finally broken free from the chains of his trauma that held him down, he fought his battles head on. For that, he hopes his father would be proud. He hopes they all would be. Bar his mother, who was anything but in the sense of caring for and nurturing him.

He shuffles against the door, knees pulled up to his chest, hands in hair, tugging at the greasy curls. Who’s he kidding? Surely not himself. What is there for his father to be proud of? What is left of the son he sent off to the Games? The son turned insane just for doing what’s right. The son who tried to kill his beloved. The son who had lost control of himself at one of the most crucial times. That’s where Katniss finds him. Small handfuls of his straw blonde hair sat around him. She doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to, only pulls him close to her and begins massaging his hands. Tricking them into letting go. She watches the tears flow down his face and her heart pangs but she knows he’ll be okay in a few. He always is. Always.

#the hunger games #everlark #fanfic #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #my first work here and I don’t want to be here :)

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clonesimpextra · 2 years ago

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414th Clone Battalion - A Shattered Peace

Because @ulchabhangorm asked about my clone OCs, I figured I'd go ahead and introduce some of them before I post Chapter 10 of ASP!

I spent a lot of time thinking about the specifics of these guys and their battalion, which is partly why this upcoming chapter took me longer to write. I'll explain the process and then introduce my OCs!

I wasn't sure how specific and technical I wanted to be, so that led to a deep dive through Wookieepedia trying to understand the different types of groups in the GAR, the different names, etc. I finally just decided to stick with "Battalion" and go from there because my head was hurting LOL.

When it came to naming my OCs, I created a list of possible names and numbers and then cross referenced the list of canon clone names/numbers on Wookieepedia to make sure none of them were already in use. Why that mattered to me when I already disrupt canon with my story? I have no idea, but it did.

ANYWAY, here are some of my boys and little bios for each of them. Not all of them will appear in Chapter 10, but they will be introduced over time! I love them all very much.

The 414th Clone Battalion

Goes by: The Four-Fourteen Color: Dark, midnight blue, almost black Specialties: Ground and air attack

Clone Commander River (Riv)

CC-Number: 4718 Hair: Regulation cut and color Identifying Marks: Waves painted on the bottom edges of his helmet. Crashing wave tattoo on the inside of left arm. Force Color: Blue Characteristics: Patient, kind, effective leader, easy to get along with (the opposite of Wolffe, lol)

Clone Captain Hall

CT-Number: 6515 Hair: Regulation color, but reaches his shoulders when it's not in a bun Force Color: White Characteristics: Strict but fair, ambitious

Clone Sergeant Link

CT-Number: 4566 Hair: Regulation cut but dyed red Identifying Marks: Broke chain link tattoo down his left arm, similar across his chest plate Force Color: Red Characteristics: Perpetually annoyed but efficient at his job, suspicious of everything

Clone Medic Helix

CT-Number: 6731 Hair: Regulation color. Cut is just a little longer than regulation, curls fall across his forehead Identifying Marks: GAR medic symbol tattoo on his right bicep Force Color: Gray Characteristics: Used to be playful and rambunctious but has calmed down a bit, dependable and cares about his brothers' safety

Clone Pilot Maverick

CT-Number: 7727 Rank: Second-in-command of Starbird Squadron Hair: Regulation color, curly fade cut Identifying Marks: Starbird painted around one side of his helmet, similar tattoo on his back Force Color: Various Characteristics: arrogant but means well, doesn't trust easily, very loyal, smart ass, one of the best pilots in the GAR

Clone Trooper Flame

CT-Number: 7374 Hair: Regulation color, buzzcut Identifying Marks: Blue flames across his helmet and on his abdominal plates Force Color: Orangish blue Characteristics: dependable, quick thinker, out-of-the-box ideas

#w: a shattered peace #my clone OCs

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chellishere · 1 year ago

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Character Modeling...p1

I started working on my characters for my short film for school (technically starting early-- maybe a good thing, maybe not...)

Luckily I get free/cheap licenses for these expensive programs that are required to even function as a 3D artist with my tuition (which is way more expensive than those licenses ever would have been...)

Anyway-- to start, I modeled a character in zbrush. I save a lot of backups, so I can go back and see most of the steps of my process (pics below)

Then I brought the highres mesh into maya, did a little retop fun where I zoned out for like 3-5 hours as I made my cute little loops and such:

Then the whole operation was brought back to zbrush for that sweet sweet projection action to then bake maps in substance...(lowres(subdivided a ton but pre-projection) vs highres mesh below)

So I imported the maya retopologized file into substance, baked my mesh, and got to work painting by hand <3 (base color display on left, material display on right)

She's beautiful! For my first real attempt at painting textures, I think it looks pretty good, if a bit scary without... hair and eyes and such.

And I'm realizing the retop job I did might not have enough topology, especially since I'm planning on using her for a short film, so I didn't really need to worry about having too many verts or anything, especially since she has soo few that I can see issues around the edges of the geometry where (I'm assuming) the normal maps are adding shadows to where the geometry oversteps the map, for example this black line on her arm:

But I'm not even sure if I'm going to use the normal maps anyway because I want to experiment with trying to make the renders look painted/flat (rip to all that sculpting work... at least it helped me figure out how to paint details in substance even if I don't end up using the map)

...

So onto hair! I wanted dynamic hair so her gorgeous locks could blow in the simulated wind, and I wanted her to have curly hair. When I looked up how to use nHair in maya, I saw people recommend xgen. I have some limited experience in xgen thanks to one class of one course I took last semester, but really I had to relearn it through a YouTube video (thank you J Hill on Youtube! linked at end of post). It seems like I might've gotten rid of the file that had my xgen attempt so I don't have a picture to show, but... my girl was balding, and xgen wasn't letting me create maps because of issues with the file paths that I coudn't resolve despite going through the path and not finding any issues?? so I gave up. I tried to mess around with it for a bit, but really xgen wouldn't have fit the style I was going for anyway. I wanted chunky hair that I could paint textures for. To fix the mess I made, I would've needed time, and though it would've been good practice and a learning experience, I really wanted to focus on finishing my project following the intended aesthetic than branching out and forgetting about my original goal. So, raincheck xgen. We'll meet again on another day. To make up for no xgen pics, heres a screenie from the file I do have where I tried paint effects on my hair curves:

lol.

I wanted the hair curly anyway, and I didn't really want to use paint effect hair so... onwards:

Then I saw a video on using curve warp deformers for hair (GGP_Animation on Youtube) which was a cool introduction to something in maya I didn't even know existed (plugin wasn't even loaded on my machine) but I realized that if I had the curves and wanted curly hair, I could just make a sweep mesh that followed the curves! So I did, and then followed ANOTHER tutorial (CG MAGUS on Youtube) on how to make dynamic hair to figure out which option in the nHair menu I should choose ^.^ and finally! the curves were moving! --But the sweeps weren't... So I saved the preset I had made for them and applied it to the NEW hair system curves-- and finally, she had beautiful dynamic curls (ignore the eyes--temporary, just a quick 3-color ramp on spheres).

Just kidding, they're kinda ugly lol :,) but that's hopefully just because it's just a generic aistandardsurface shader with no texture. I'm going to repaint the texture on the scalp so even if it shows through it doesn't look like her hair is thinning. I'm also planning on using flair renderer (linked below), so I have to pay for that and do some testing with it to figure out how I can get the final look I'm going for. Concept portrait design below:

youtube

#autodesk maya #zbrush #3d modeling #art student #im learning!#critique welcome #ama

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idontknow14u-blog · 2 years ago

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Chp 2

Driving up to the house kitten can see a line of cars. Various makes and models. What was most striking was the the Variations of cars was so vast in price. Everything from a used car probably worth 2 grand to upwards of a car worth more then her house was here. They were all being valeted as your car pulled into the front. A slim figured valet woman opened the door for kitten, the valet bowed her head and averted her eyes, Unable to look at kitten. You can see her outfit was a black pants, black button shirt but under her clothes, as seen at her neck and face was a leather outfit under it all. The face was covering the women's mouth where she is unable to speak. Kitten held her small crossbody bag and waited for sir to walk over. She interlocked her arm with his as they strolled up the stairs getting in line. At the large double doors walking into the court yard of the home you can lights strung up as if Christmas was still part of the decor, large ice sculpture of a women standing on her toes as another women on her knees Is licking her between her legs. Soft music is being played by a orchestra on stage. Art work is on display from various parts of the world, sculpture in the yard when you first enter, paintings on the walls, mini figures in the windows and stands in various parts of the yard. Butlers and maids holding drinks and small snacks, wipes and tiny bottle. After a few min of admiring the artwork and flow of the decorations on Sirs arm. A man, strong chested and the same hight as SIR walked up. "Good evening Mr. Hound. I am happy to see you made it."

"Thank you Mr. Bear. I wouldn't miss the 100 anniversary party and on new years eve as well. Just a party only comes once Imy would say."

"Your damn right it does." Mr Bear slaps Sir right in the chest and pulls him in for a hug. The two men give a quick squeeze and introduce who each other have on there arm. Mr Bear holds the hand of a beautiful women, tan skin, hour glass shaped body, but her hair was curly and down so long that it was pass her ass. "This is Queen Nonamà." My lady as SIR gently bows to her, her hand raising up to gentle shake his. A blush comes over her face. Pulling kitten forward, she stands closer to Mr. Bear and his hight just seems taller to her now. "This is my kitten, I have adopted her in the past few years and I wanted to show her off tonight to all of you, to finally meet her." Mr. Bear in a loud tone but soft as to be wrapped by fur said aloud. "Was this one chased by the sounds of the horn there Mr hound?" Laughing to his inside joke. "No, this one came on her own. I did not hunt this little fox, she came" as he paused to think of the right word. "Crawling to me."

"Such a lucky little one she is to have been so tempting tho, am I right Sir Hound?" Queen Nomamà said leaning into his arm. "I can see her attitude in her eyes, she has been trained well." Flirting her eyes into kittens direction. A blush started to fill her body.

"Will you or the Queen be participating in the hunt tomorrow?"

"Oh!" In the large man's voice. "I'm not sure, depending on how many drinks I have and how much sleep I get. Had to hunt when you can't even hold the line in your hands hahaha."

"If so, good hunting Sir."

"You as well my friend, keep that little kitten close, I might have to eat her with one bite! Hahaha"

Queen Nomamà sees the present in kittens arms. "OH might I help her with this?"

"Of course my Queen. Kitten spend time with the queen and find me when you done. Until then, she has your leash." Kitten knew the rules at that point. Knowing his verbal cure to treat her as if it was sir. She stood by the Queens side, taking her arm. "We will be back gentle men." The Queen snatching a bottle from a butler walking past them. Leading kitten out of the court yard and into the house, kitten was taken to a private room. "Go ahead and open it, let's see what design it is." Kitten opened the box and pulled out a fox tail attached to an only shapped piece of metal.

The Queen was excited and a smile came across her face. "This is a lovely design, as you can see this not one to buy on any market but ours. A new design, the craftsmanship looks like Mr. Hounds. As you can look here, the anal plug is shaped in a special way to only come out with this key." A small key attached to a silver necklace was also inside the box. The Queen placed the necklace around her neck and hung the key right above her cleavage of the dress. "Over the bar. The one on that side of the room. Lift your dress for me." The queen demanded, the sounds of her heels echoed in this room. Kitten knew, not to disobey any order from the one who "has her leash." Over the padded bar and spreading her ass to this women she has never met before, the little bottle the Queen grabs was twisted open and a flower scent filled the room. The dropper was filled in the little grass bottle and a liquid came out directly on her asshole not spilling a drop or any excess was wasted. The queen was precise on the amount used. Her thumb began to rub her asshole, feeling the tension of it. "You have been trained, your already prepared to except the tail." Kittens body was a truly under the response of Sir, every movement, every action has been detailed to his specifications. He body reacted faster then her mind would pick up. The tail slid right in and with a small click it was in place. "Let's see how secure Mr Hound has made this design." She grabbed the end and started pulling it towards her. "Crawl to me!" She leaning back in a chair, lifting her dress, a beautiful shaved spot was already wet. Kitten crawled over to her, the tail being tugged. Filling her ass. Making her drip with excitement. Kitten takes the queens pussy in her mouth. Treating it as if was Sir. She thought of nothing in her mind but one thing. I am a toy, I am to be used for pleasure. I will be used.

She said it over and over in her mind tell it was blank. Tell nothing but her pussy juice was all she tasted ans smelled. She licked and sucked as her ass was being tugged on. The plug not showing any sign of coming loose. The Queen let out a massive moan, Kitten knew not to stop. She only stopped when she was told. She was a toy, she kept going, and going tell the queen in a heavy breath said. "OK, clean up." Unabl to give any more order at the time. She was collecting her body again. Kitten knew what to do, to clean herself and the queen. Getting them both ready to open the door.

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biderboy · 3 years ago

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angel, why me? / jegulus

a/n: i’m so sorry this is horrifying it’s a mess

word count : 3136

warnings : indication of abuse/violence , indication of sex, cheating

you tell your side of the story like, i can't read in between the lines, and pick out every lie.

james touched his left ear when he lied, it was something regulus had picked up on when they were young. when all the lies james ever told where small, non lethal. when he’d tell sirius he had detention, when he was really meeting regulus at the astronomy tower. when he told his professors he had no idea who painted the slytherin common room red and gold.

he had that habit his whole life, regulus figured out, one morning over coffee with Euphemia, even when he was just a child. “he has never grown out of it” she said, sipping her coffee. “i reckon he never will.”

she was right, even at 20, james still fiddled with his left ear, telling tales of highschool to his new friends, ones who weren’t aware of the entire other world they lived amongst. friends he had to lie to, had to tell he was on the football team, or how he learned to drive at 16, when he still couldn't manage to at 20.

and james’ hand was right next to his left ear now, spilling beautiful lies to regulus own ears. his smile bright and trustworthy as he recalled spending the night with peter and remus, how they had stayed in, watched some muggle movie james told him about a few weeks ago.

he was telling regulus he was ridiculous, thinking he had been out on a night like last, how he had plans for weeks. he fiddled with his ear as he told regulus there was no reason for him to believe barty when he told him he saw james with lily evans last night.

he had sounded so sincere, so full of confidence. but his hand was on his ear, and reglus knew that was the moment his heart broke.

what i really wanna know, what made you a hero

the fight after that had been horrifying, the words were ripped from throats, the pain seeped deep into open wounds that will never close again. they were biting and clawing at each others souls in hopes that breaking a bit more would make them fit back together again.

but james was always strong willed, he had a hero complex, he could fix things. he was good, he would fix what was broken, he would make it right. but in his eyes, regulus was what was broken, and he didn’t believe he was the one who broke him.

“just let me help regulus, just let me fix this” he screamed, hands shaking and breath unsteady.

“youre the one who ruined it james.”

how james thought he had the right to try and fix him, try to heal him, when regulus wasn’t broken, when regulus was trying so hard to get him to see that they're whats broken, was beyond him. but james was never one to listen, was never one to admit when he wasnt able to help.

the fight went on for hours, till voices were sore, eyes were red, and they were left more lost than they were when they started. too similar to a story of a broken hero.

when did you become an angel, when’d you grow a pair of wings

regulus could still remember the first time he felt his heart flutter around james, could still remember the smile that grew across his face, the unfamiliar feeling of something he never had the privilege of doing.

he could remember how it felt, truly seeing him for the first time, its as if he took a breath for the very first time. as if his soul was finally letting light in, after years of being dusty and dim. he could feel in his every being that the boy in front of him, with curly hair and a dimpled smile, the boy whose hands were a bit too big and whose eyes held shades of golden, was an angel.

it didn’t take him long to fall in love, he was young and james had the prettiest laugh hed ever heard. james, who listened to him when he spoke. who held his hand with no ounce of shame, who kissed him softly and loved him gently for the first time in his life.

he could remember it all, the first kiss, the first time james wiped his tears and traced his freckles, the first time they ran from their responsibilities, the first time they hid, the first time they lied.

he couldn't remember when it broke.

he couldn't remember when james wings had turned from snow white to dark, dim black.

he couldn't remember when the halo above his head slowly broke, couldn’t remember when his soul no longer shone golden, when his eyes no longer held the love they once did.

he could remember when james was an angel, he couldn’t remember when he forgot the devil was an angel too.

tell me where'd you get the privilege of forgetting everything

james didn’t look at him like he used to. when they were younger, full of life and ready to tear the world apart for one another,

james didn’t press his fingertips against his eyelids anymore, didn’t kiss the freckles dusted over his nose. he didn’t smile shyly when telling regulus he was pretty, didn’t run his hands over his ribs when he went to hug him. james no longer linked their ankles together as they slept, nor did he whisper stories about the stars when no one else was listening.

james never held regulus hand anymore, not the way they did on late nights, rushing down the corridors, smiling into each others necks and laughing far too loud for the dead of night,

he didn’t pick flowers just to lay them in regulus’ hair, when they were 17 and too in love for the war around them, barely able to keep the happiness from seeping out of their lungs as they sat and watched the sun rise.

james didn’t ask for his hand anymore, like he did when they moved in, when they didn’t have a couch or plates, only an old record machine regulus stole from home, and far too many muggle records. when all they needed was each other as they spun around for hours on simply the sound of their own heartbeats.

james used to look at him like the angels crafted him themselves, used to have such light in his eyes, as if regulus was the sole reason he was breathing and feeling on his own, as if there was nothing he could love more in the world.

he doesn’t look at him like that anymore.

as if james had forgotten who they used to be, who they are still supposed to be. james looked at him like he was a stranger living in the body of a boy he used to know.

the promises you broke and burned

under the eyes of the stars that would never utter a word to another soul, promises were once made, in the depth of night, in empty hallways, under covers, standing pressed against windows or laying across overgrown grass.

the first promise, too young to think of what was said, sad eyes meeting truthful ones. james had held his hand out, a smile on his face.

“i promise to be your friend forever.”

two years later, when regulus was broken and bruised, left with nothing more than he could carry in his hands. shaking, wondering if anything was truly worth what people said it was. james was there.

a cup of tea, a blanket he claimed he never stole, and a smile too bright for the 14 year old boy infront of him.

“it’ll be okay reggie, i promise.”

when sirius had left, and regulus was alone in a manor that had never been home. when every curse thrown his way held pain he could no longer handle, when his bones were weak and his soul ached for something he no longer thought he deserved.

when he was too young to feel that way, but too old to cry in his mothers arms and ask for forgiveness. when he lost faith in the people he had once called family, when he was truly alone.

“you’ll never be alone again, i swear.”

when james kissed him under the dark clouds, in a muggle town far away enough from the world they lived in to be cautious. when he held his hand with no care, when he smiled and pulled him through cafes and stores, telling tales of love and light.

when he pushed a paper ring on his finger, softly twirling him under the moonlit alley, pressing kisses to anywhere he could, basking in the simple existence of his lover.

when regulus laughed like a child, when he let himself be spun and loved in all the right ways. when he was too in love to think of anything else. when he kissed james back, again and again and again until they sun was starting to come up and the town was waking up.

“i’ll love you until the last star in the sky disappears.”

somedays i think you convinced yourself, that i'm the one that's in need of help, its like youre self compelled

some fights were harder than the others, when the clock kept ticking and the sun was already down, and the neighbors were already asleep.

the fights when their voices were no louder than a whisper, when there was no lingering, no pain, just the tired sighs and the shaking hands.

the fights where james would never admit he was wrong, when he would point a finger and hope it landed on anyone but himself, when he took to telling regulus he was done, he was over it.

the nights where james would leave the house too late for the roads to be blocked, too late for sirius to allow him inside, but having an extra key anyways. the nights regulus couldn’t look himself in the mirror because for the life of him, he couldn’t even miss his lover despite him not being there.

the mornings after when james would come home, gentle words and gentle hands, as if one wrong move would break regulus anymore than he did the night before.

when james would pretend he hadn't spent the night crying, when he would say he was fine and his hands were shaking as he dropped the plate onto the floor. when he couldn't look regulus in the eye, but pushed himself into his arms to seek comfort anyways,

the fights where james acted like he never got hurt, but was always the one left feeling more than regulus ever thought he could.

but we both know that that isn't true, that i would never betray you

the first time they broke was when regulus was 18, and james was holding onto his wrist, yelling accusations at him like he was the same level of filth as his parents were.

when sirius and remus were just across the hall, pretending they didn’t hear their best friend breaking, or their little brother begging him to listen.

regulus had never felt more numb than he had in that moment, had never felt his heart stop in the way it did that day.

when james eyes were full of tears, and hatred. A look he had never seen directed at him before.

when the pain in his wrist became unbearable, when the lies that spilled off james tongue where too much to listen to.

when regulus ripped himself from his loves grip, when he pulled his own sleeve up, throat raw and eyes red from the tears leaking onto his cheeks. screaming back at james face, pointing to the blank skin on both his arms, letting the truth seep into his lovers head.

“i would never betray you.”

but the damage was done, james having believed he could, believed he would. james had thought, and believed that regulus would give up his life, his love, to become the same thing he feared.

You did this all yourself

regulus figured it was his own fault.

falling in love had always been warned as a weakness, as a threat. something that would end up hurting you, no matter how tightly you held on, no matter how hard you tried.

he saw the first crack, he felt the pain of each fight, of every empty glance. he knew the concerned looks sirius sent him when james wasn't looking, he heard the words remus whispered in his ears as he broke down again and again.

but he held on, he fought. he loved james and he wasnt going to let a crack, or simple pain, take that away from him. he loved james, it was engraved in his very being. who was he, if he didnt love james potter? he didn’t want to find out, he refused to let himself.

so he stayed.

even when his heart felt like it was no longer there, even when james lied while looking in his eyes. even when james no longer kissed him like he once did. despite the soul crushing and earth shattering realization of james maybe not loving him anymore.

regulus stayed.

he had no one else to blame for it, he could have seen it from a mile away, should have.

could you please enlighten me, what is this truth you see, and does it involve the part where you ruined love for me

james saw it before him.

james had wanted to be let go, he had wanted something else, he had fallen out of love long before regulus saw it in his eyes.

regulus didn’t get it, he thought they were fine, he thought they were okay. he didn’t see whatever it was james saw, months before he did something about it.

he wished he did, wished that james would have talked to him, wish he could have done something, anything. wished he knew if it was because of who he was, or who he used to be.

wish james told him before falling in love with someone else.

before james ripped his heart out with his bare hands, and watched as it fell to the floor. before james took what little light he gave regulus’ soul, and burned it out.

wished he would have seen it before.

before he let himself believe love was good, before he let his hands be held and his veins filled with gold. before he completely engrossed himself with the feeling of loving and being loved in return.

before, when he still believed love to be hurtful and morbid, wished he let himself continue to think that.

don't you dare forget all the things you did, all the memories we had to miss

regulus was 20.

when they had fallen in love, he was 16. four years of promises and plans, of love learned and given and cherished.

years of love ahead of them, the same love that was written in every letter james’ parents ever wrote to each other. the same love in his mothers cooking, and his fathers garden. the same love they tried so desperately to show regulus was real.

the kind of love written in the universe, when two souls were meant to spend time and energy on each other because they were simply made from the same star.

regulus and james had that.

they had years ahead of them, ones that were supposed to be filled with children's laughter and the smell of the sea right on their noses.

they had talked about it, when they were younger, and star crossed souls filled with promises.

had planned of a house, not too big, just like the one james had grown up in. one by the seaside, where regulus could take their son swimming and where james could teach him the stars.

had planned to bring his parents out there, to show them they learned to love too. show them the handmade recipe book they started when they were 17. the pictures and stories they've collected along the way, gently displayed in their home in ways regulus never had been able to.

had planned of a dog, one the kids could run and play with, one that could go on hikes with remus and mess up the kitchen with james.

they talked of vacations and family, of owning their own coffee shop, of bringing love to all the people who couldn't get it anywhere else.

they had a future, they had earned it, they had loved for it.

threw it all away just for a kiss

when he kissed her, his eyes were closed.

there was a smile on his face too, barty had told him. it wasn't just a peck, or something regulus could consider a drunken mistake.

it was something james enjoyed, it was something he wanted. something he longed for. something he used to ache to have with regulus.

a kiss, a real one. again and again, until he was grabbing her wrist and pulling her up the stairs. until hours later, when the sun rose and he snuck out, with ruffled hair and a blissed look on his face.

until he came home, and changed his clothes. until regulus woke up and smiled, until he went to kiss his own lover and couldn’t.

if it was just a kiss, maybe regulus would have ignored that too.

but it wasn't just a kiss, and they both knew it.

tell me was it worth it?

james no longer lied to him.

his eyes weren’t empty, but they were not filled with love. they were dim, guilt ridden, broken.

his boxes were packed, pressed against the far wall of the dining room. his hands no longer shook when he went to bed, his throat was no longer sore, they never yelled anymore. they were tired.

in just a night, years of loving and being loved were broken and stored away.

regulus did not want to think of his lover anymore, but it still hurt too much to ignore. because even with james no longer sleeping next to him, even with his years of love no longer on the walls. he was still there.

the house was still full of him, his heart was still aching, his soul still searching for its other half. he wonders often if james felt that too, wonders if he hurts as much as regulus does when he wakes up.

“was it worth it?” he whispered once, and james took a shaky breath.

“no.”

but what is broken is broken, and the devil is a pretty liar.

angel, can you tell me just one thing? why me?

#oh man here it is #wrote it in an hour can u believe #I MISS THEM #ok here yeah fine #not a valentines fic but u know..whatever #sorin writes #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #jegulus au #jegulus fic #jegulus angst #james x regulus #james x regulus fic #james potter angst #james potter fic #regulus black angst #regulus black fic

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erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

Text

Adjustments

When Y/N is getting tired of staying at home with the baby while Harry tours.

word count: 5k

contains: sexual content, language, a dash of angst

It was still early but Harry didn’t mind. When he was on tour he craved sleep like no other. To be in his bed, spooned around his love, and no alarm set.

However, the deep desire for sleep is just a faraway thought now because he’d rather be sleep deprived and wake up to his curly-haired baby any given day.

He looks to you. Mouth slightly open, face stress-free, and peaceful. Harry hated coming home from tour to see the bags of exhaustion under your eyes from taking care of the baby all by yourself.

He constantly had to swallow back guilt. He tried to do everything to make it up when he was home.

Harry didn’t find touring as exciting and fun as he use to. He sometimes counts down the tour dates until he’s home.

Sometime he can’t wait for the concert to wrap up so he can sneak in a quick FaceTime before you lot head off to bed.

Sasha was two, her birthday near days away, and Y/N had been running around like a mad-woman trying to make sure her party would be perfect.

Y\N sometimes held herself to the exceptions of other celebrities wives. Ballon arches, custom cookies, and beautiful decorations.

However, unlike other celebrities, you did this all yourself. No event planner, nobody except Anne and Gemma.

Harry wants you to sleep as much as possible and allow you the luxury he gets on tour. Sleeping in until noon sometimes in the empty, cold hotel room with nothing else to do.

He can hear Sasha babbling incessantly from her little bed. The little yellow railings preventing her from falling out or escaping.

Harry heaves himself off the bed, tugging on some sweatpants that had been thrown off hurriedly when you’d told him you’d been wet for him since he walked in the door last night.

“Hi, hi little love,” Harry murmurs as he opens the door to her bedroom. The yellow flowers hand-painted from the wall setting the theme for the room.

Sasha was a good baby and an ever better toddler. However, almost as a little teenager, she sure did have her mood swings. They weren’t quite out of the terrible twos stage yet.

She wanted her mom as she stood there.

“No, mummy,” Sasha whines, tugging on Harry’s cross necklace with force after he scooped her up.

“Hey, we don’t do that. Remember we treat people with kindness.”

After a promise of chocolate chips in her pancakes, she agrees to help Harry cook you breakfast.

It was messy and his bare chest was covered in flour. Not quite sure how the little girl had gotten it into her curls but they were managing.

Harry loved watching Sasha play with the cooking utensil. Smacking whisk around, looking quizzically at a spatula.

It made Harry want to buy her a little play kitchen. He was surprised they didn’t already have one. He thinks they might have on in their New York City apartment that they haven’t traveled to recently.

He makes a point while Sasha is chewing at the pancakes to search to find one. He finds a same-day pickup at a local toy store and orders it.

That’s one thing he loved about making so much money. He could spoil you and the baby, his family with everything and anything they want or need.

Y/N always struggled with accepting gifts from Harry but as they years went on and they got married and combined bank accounts. (well she brought a hefty three thousand to the marriage, he graciously gave her full-access to his money).

A few weeks after your wedding, when you went to an ATM to get twenty pounds out for a cash-only restaurant and when the receipt said you two had six-hundred thousand and some change in just one of your CHECKING account - well you nearly almost fainted.

You had been worried about the three pound service fee before seeing that.

Harry could sometimes get ahead of himself. He’s had disposable money since he was sixteen. Y/N would sometimes hum, asking if he really needs a fifteen-thousand dollar wool Gucci coat.

Y/N would make it a point that she doesn’t want Sasha to grow to be materialistic and spoiled. So Harry was scolded every once in a while when he gave into Sasha’s puppy dog eyes.

Maybe not the best decision but he planned to set it up when you were out for lunch this afternoon with a friend. Hopefully, you wouldn’t notice? If he strategically put it in the playroom.

“Mmm, what’s all this?” You murmur, tying your silk robe at the front. Just enough cleavage showing that Harry feels a twitch in his joggers. Sue him, basically everything his wife did turned him on.

“Pancakes, mummy!” Sasha giggles, syrup coating her cheeks and fingers. “Kissy?” Her dad had taught her that.

“Yes baby,” you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to her soft curls, avoiding her sticky mess.

“Kissy?”

You look up to your pouting husband with identical absurdly wild curls from bed.

“Spoiled, you lot,” you tell him before padding over to him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Forever the horny teenager, his large hands finds your bum and pull you closer - deepening the kiss.

“Miss you s’much on tour, all I think about,” he whispers into your mouth. “Your tits, your cun-“

“Harry!” You laugh, smacking at his chest, “Can’t talk like that in front of the baby!”

“She didn’t hear,” he grumbles, giving your arse one last squeeze, “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” you agree back, ignoring the pinch of arousal.

—-

Sasha was putting up a fight when she realized that you were leaving without her. Grabbing at your leg as you tugged on a Gucci sneaker.

“I’ll be back soon, Sash,” you assure her but to no avail.

Her cheeks ruddy red and splotched. Tears staining them as she wails dramatically at the top of her little lungs.

“I don’t know if I should go,” You sigh as Harry wrestles her tiny body off of you so you don’t trip.

“No baby, you need a break. She can’t hold you hostage,” Harry laughs as Sasha wriggles a little in his arms.

“Call me if you need me to come home.”

“I’ll be fine, now go, have a mimosa for me,” Harry smiles down at his daughter who is staring at you like you’ve just killed her beloved pet.

You can’t help but giggle at the glare, “so scary, missy. I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

Sasha buries her nose into Harry’s neck. Her sobs more sad than angry at this point. Which makes your heartbreak a little.

—-

Sasha was getting impatient with her father. As he attempted to figure out how to screw on the oven door to the overcomplicated design.

She occasionally ran off with a piece he needed so it took much longer than he’d thought. But this thing was sophisticated, you pour water into a little tub and it runs through the faucet like a real sink.

Sasha gave her father a wide smile when he had finally told her it was all done. He helped fill the little shopping cart with plastic fruit and veggies.

She was babbling to herself happily, occasionally making sure her dad was still in the room with her.

Harry had grabbed his journal off the kitchen table and was scribbling down mismatched lyrics about how much love he was filled with.

His last two albums were nearly just songs about you. The next one was definitely going to include tracks about his baby.

When he hears the alarm sound and get shut off, he knows your home and he feels a little twinge of anxiety in his stomach.

Distraction? That should work right?

“Hi baby,” Harry greets, planting a kiss on your lips before squatting to untie your sneakers for you.

“Well hello there!” You look around surprised to not see your daughter toddling to you as well. “Is bug sleeping?”

Harry shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, “Um, no. Just playing in the playroom right now.”

“Was she good?” You asks, noticing he’s changed clothes. He loved to laze around in joggers if he could. “Did you go out?”

“Just for coffee,” he covers, technically - he did grab a coffee for himself at a drive-thru. “How was lunch?”

“Good, mimosas were shit so I only had one. Missed you guys too much. So glad your home,” you sigh into his chest, basking in his tight arms around you.

“Only 73 more concerts to go,” Harry replies.

He can feel your shoulders tense at his lame attempt of a joke. It wasn’t funny to you, not in the slightest.

“Just 73, huh?” You shoot back, untangling yourself from his grip. “Just another eight months away from your wife and baby.”

“Love...” Harry begins, swallowing hard. He was just as emotional as you when it came to it.

You shake your head, swiping at the stray tear, “Just forget it,” you huff before trekking off to see your daughter.

Harry is cautiously trailing behind you with a bowling ball of nerves in his belly.

When you walk into the playroom and see the new kitchen set - you stand nearly frozen in the doorway.

“Mummy! Mumma look at what daddy got me!” She chirps, standing to come to you. You easily lift her up and accept the plastic apple she hands to you proudly.

You feel a tightness in your throat, “it’s so nice, baby.”

“Nice,” she repeats, “come play, mumma.”

“I just got home, give me a few minutes and I’ll be back in,” you promise with a kiss before placing her back down.

She seems satisfied with your answer and scurries back to where she had placed her babydoll on the countertop - feeding it.

“Can we please talk in the kitchen?” You asks, trying your best to keep your voice level in front of your daughter.

Harry dejectedly nods and follows you into the kitchen, dragging his boot-clad feet a little.

“Look, I know your mad, lovie. But I just got the idea and didn’t think too much about it. Know y’don’t want to spoil her but-“

“Do you not listen?” You ask harshly.

He looks at you dumbfounded. Unsure of the question. It sounded like it was a trick question.

“You’re unbelievable!” You whisper-shout so Sasha doesn’t hear.

Harry feels himself getting defensive, “You’re tha’ mad about a bloody toy? I’m her father allowed to buy her things too!”

“No, Harry. It’s not about that. It seems like your so busy with your job that you just tune me out on our calls.”

Harry’s brow furrows. That wasn’t true in the slightest. It was the highlight of his day to hear your voice and how it went at home.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Harry snaps, his voice a little louder.

“Go into the storage room off the side of the garage.”

He gives you a confused look but obliges, after trailing through your maze of a house. He reaches the large extra room.

When he opens the door, his heart sinks. He immediately knows why you’re so upset with him.

A beautiful, hand-painted kitchen set is sat with a large pink bow in the room. The hutch saying in cursive, “Sasha’s Kitchen.”

It was her favorite colors - blue and yellow- with painted images of all her favorite characters like Peppa Pig and Blue from Blue’s Clues.

He remembers how excited you were on the phone that night - when you revealed her third birthday present and how perfect the artist had made it.

Harry had been listening -truthfully- but he was also nearly asleep after two encores of Kiwi onstage and a meet and greet backstage.

He felt like shit now. Disappointed in himself for ruining this surprise he knows you were looking forward to giving her in a mere few days.

But the excitement of another kitchen set surely would be lackluster now.

“Baby, m’so sorry,” Harry says quietly, with guilt bubbling in his throat. “I was listening. I just...I forgot.”

“Nothing we can do about it now it,” you bite out. Disappointed at the ruin surprised making you prickle with anger towards your forgetful husband.

Harry begins to apologize once again but you don’t let him, “I need to put her down for a nap.”

—

You drift off as well in your bed- taking advantage of Sasha being asleep in the next room over.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to fix this situation. He’s much too embarrassed to call his mum or sister who would just give him another earful.

He felt like being on tour has been mucking everything up. He loved his job, most days. But days like today - he wishes to never see a recording studio or microphone again.

Harry’s pondering all this when he hears a cry from the baby’s room.

Sasha is stood, bleary-eyes with a sad frown as her father enters.

“Sweet pea, what’s the sad face for?” He hums as he tucks her into the curve of his slim hip. Bringing her down onto the main level so you aren’t awoken.

“Daddy, kitchen?” She sniffles, pointing towards her playroom.

He shakes his head. Deciding the least he can do is bathe her so you wouldn’t need to later. She still had remnants of fruit pouch in her cheeks.

“No, darling. S’bath time. Then you can play,” he boots her nose. Snatching some clean baby clothes from where they’re folded and waited to be put away on the coffee table.

“No no no,” she whimpers angrily, shaking her head and smacking her arm against her father’s tattooed chest.

“Sasha Anne, no hitting, absolutely not,” Harry uses his firm father’s voice that he didn’t have to pull out very often.

“No bath, daddy, no!” She wails with all the dramatics of an A-List actor.

“Hey, mumma’s sleeping. We cannot yell,” her father hushes her as he trails into the bathroom.

“Mean daddy!” She exclaims as he wrestles her into the tub. Splashing the water and wriggling away everytime he tries to cup water over her head to rid her of the shampoo.

“I know, I know, so mean,” he acknowledges sympathetically. A headache arising in the front of his skull from his baby’s high pitch noises and shouts.

After another fight into clothes, she’s still not happy when she’s sat in front of her kitchen. She throws the plastic toys around and whining anytime Harry moves an inch.

He’s feeling a little overwhelmed if he’s honest. With his worry about your precious argument and the unusual tactics of your toddler - he was stressed out.

“Binky,” Sasha looks expectantly at her father.

Oh, good idea. She loves that.

Harry can’t find any lying around like usual so he digs through the drawers around the living room until he finds one.

After cleaning it off, he hands it to her and she pops it in her mouth happily. Her attention now direction back towards her new toy.

He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t quite sure how you did this alone so much of the time.

—

When you finally wake from a fitful nap, you hear noise from the playroom. You’re still extremely frustrated with your husband but it’s less intense. Until...

Until you walk in and Sasha turns around, smiling around a binky you surely thought you’d thrown away.

Sasha was getting too old for a pacifier - even though she was just using it when she was really upset or at night.

You’d been binky-free for three weeks. And all the crying and tears from your daughter where now meaningless.

“Where did she get that pacifier?” You grit out.

You had told him multiple times you were weaning her off of it.

“She was fussy. I gave it to her, tha’ alright?” He asks cluelessly.

“Harry! I’ve told you so so many times that I’d been weaning her off of it. She just stopped crying about it a week ago!”

“I told you about this - just like the kitchen. God, you get so goddamn wrapped up in your career that you forget important things like this!”

“Baby...” Harry whimpers, hands up in surrender. “I keep, I keep messing up. I’m - I don’t know where my mind is.”

“I’ll tell you were your mind is, Harry. In the countries your traveling to, the concerts your performing at. You promised me...you fucking promised when we started trying for a baby this stuff wouldn’t happen!!”

Harry’s face crumples, “yo-you’re my everything, lovie. You and bug. None of this means anything without you. I’ll quit music, never write another lyric or sing another note if that’s what you want from me.”

He meant that fully heartedly too.

When he wrote If I Could Fly and write the lyrics, “I’ll give up everything, just ask me to.”

The fans, the producers, you - don’t truly know how much he was being truthful in the lyrics.

“I would never ask you to do that. I want you to do what you love but I want you to follow through for your family!”

At your raised tons, Sasha begins to whine, looking with wide, concerned eyes.

“Mummy?”

With that, you scoop her up. “M’going to your mums. I’ll be back later.”

Harry watches anxiously as you pack Sasha’s bag. He feels useless as he hands your her fruit pouches and crackers from the pantry.

As you snatch the car keys from the entry tables, Harry asks in a near whisper, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

“I’m lost too. I jus-just can’t keep doing this. It’s too hard for you to be away from us like this. I feel like a single mom sometimes.”

With that, you’re out the door and on your way to your mother-in-laws.

For the first time ever, Harry had a fleeting thought that you’re going to divorce him. He knows it’s not just about the toy and the pacifier.

He hasn’t been home enough. As much as he tries, the FaceTimes don’t make the distance and time apart any easier.

You have all the responsibility of this little human and your heart twinges on days you’re missing you husband and you constantly at met with his little replica.

Harry feels like he’s going to have a panic attack. He’s only had a handful in his lifetime but this one was intense.

He grabs his phone and dials the number to his best friend. He really needed a shoulder to cry on right now.

“Hey mate! What’s good, big boy?” The Irish man belts into the phone only to be met with sniffles and tears.

“Niall, I don’t know what to do.”

—

Anne was expecting you. She had set up tea with little cake in the back garden. Sasha was excited to chase the cats around the greenery. Her cute jumpsuit sodden with dirt and grass stains in no time.

“I’m sick of being at home alone all the time with Sasha. I miss Harry too much, she misses him too much,” you croak, attempting to keep your tears at bay.

“I want Harry to continue his career and live his dream. Most people never get the chance he’s gotten. I-I just need him.”

“Oh honey,” she rubs my hand soothingly, “I can only imagine. I know I missed him fiercely to the point it was unbearable when he was sixteen. I still miss him too.”

“I...I’m going to sound like such a bad mother,” you take a deep breathe, “would I be a bad mum if Sash and I joined Harry on tour?”

“Do you think that’d make you a bad mum?” Anne asks softly, a small smile on her face.

“No, I don’t think. I’d be happier because I’d be with Harry and we could actually be a married couple 24/7. She would get to see her dad everyday.”

“I think you’ve found you answer,” Anne chuckles, pouring more hot water into your cups.

“It will be so stressful.”

“More stressful than it is now?” Anne replies.

“Nothing can be more stressful than right now.”

- -

The talk witdh Niall helped only a little bit but enough to not feel like he’s going to vomit every other minute.

He was worried you were going to come in here and ask him for a divorce because he couldn’t follow through on his promises as a husband and a father.

Harry was ready to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening. He’s not above groveling and begging for you to stay.

It is dark when you pull in, toting in a sleeping child in your arms that you pass off to Harry who’s waiting at the front door.

He tucks his baby into her bed, tugging the blankets over her, and staring down at her sweet, cherub face for a little longer than usual before heading into your master.

You’re sat on the corner of the bed, biting your lip, and playing with you flashy large diamond ring as a force of habit.

“Baby...” Harry rasps, not touching you but kneeling down in front of you.

“I can’t do what we’re doing anymore,” you begin, completely unaware that Harry thinks you’re about to ask for a divorce.

“I don’t think you’re going to agree with what I have to say, but I think it’s the best,” you swallow harshly, hoping he doesn’t shoot down the proposition.

“Please, I’ll do anything, lovie. Don’t leave me, don’t divorce me. I’ll do anything’ you want, sweetheart. Please, I need you. I’m so inlove with you.”

Harry is full on sobbing by this point, hanging his head against your knees as he attempts to catch his breath but finding it hard.

“Harry!” You murmur in confusion “baby, look at me, please?”

It takes him a moment to meet your eyes, your face is soft but wrinkled in concern.

“What are you talking about? Divorce?” You choke out the words. Never in a million years would you willingly agree to part from your husband.

“I know I’ve been fuckin’ up. I can’t bloody figure out how to balance shit. I’ve not followed through and neglected you n’ the baby. I’m a bad husband and a bad dad.”

“Hey,” you said with force, bringing your hand under his chin so he has to keep eye contact. “Do not ever say something like that again. You are the best husband and father. You provide for us. You love us more than I’ve thought possible. You’re perfect for Sasha and I.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Harry chokes out, letting his ringed hands rest on the tops of your thighs. His diamond wedding rand flashing in the light.

“Oh, H. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean with you.” You chuckle lightly, “how could you ever possibly think I’d leave you, pet?”

He shakes his head, “it’s because y’too good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” you hums, running a hand through his curls. “I know how to fix this.”

“How? I’ll do anything f’you,” Harry would agree to jump off The Empire State Building for you without a second thought.

“The baba and I are going to join you on tour. I know we agreed it’s be too much but I can’t imagine it can be any harder than this.”

Harry’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s if you’ll have us,” you whisper coyly, excited by his reaction.

“Yeah, baby. It means I get to fuck you every night,” Harry growls pushing you back and up into the bed before crawling on top of you.

“A teenage boy, I swear,” you giggle, flushed just thinking about how much more time you’ll have together.

“S’it so bad I want t’fuck my wife? That I’m so bloody gone for you that I’d do anything f’you?” He presses against your lips before demanding entrance.

“You can have me in your bed every night,” you agree, letting his tongue twist with yours with fever and urgency.

“Mmm, only groupie I’ll ever need.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, allowing him to slip your shirt over your head and attach his lips to your collarbone.

“Can’t wait to fuck you in every country - like we did when you toured with me before the bab.”

When he tosses your bra across the room, you gasp at his mouth finding your nipple instantly. Nipping and suckling at the sensitive nerves with intent.

His hand doesn’t waste anytime, skillfully unbuttoning your jeans and zip with one hand before cramming his large palm inside to cup you in his hand.

“Only pussy I want, fuckin’ made for me,” he groans at the warm wetness he feel through the thin underwear. The tips of his fingers stroke over your clit with confident movements.

“Stop teasing!” You whine, wriggling out of your jeans and panties in one go. Harry is still completely dressed above you - which shouldn’t be sexy but it is.

“Don’t know how I thought you’d ever leave me. Y’fucking obsessed with my cock,” he laughs - sure of himself now.

“If you don’t touch me, I swear-“

“I’ve got you lovie, best wife ever, y’know? Just wanna please you,” he promises the damp skin on your neck, landing nips and bites that will surely leave a mark.

“Then please me,” you demand, your tone a higher pitch than usual for your arousal.

You’re rolling your hips upwards to meet his jean-clad center. The friction feels delicious against your sensitive nerves.

Harry takes hold of your hip with one hand to halt your grinding, his other hand finding your heat and without hesitation - slides two thick fingers into you.

“H, yeah,” y/n moans, rolling her hips down to meet his hand. Her arousal coating his knuckles and he can’t describe how sexy that is.

He curls his fingers towards the top of you tight wall, finding the little spongey spot that has you bucking your hips and whimpering.

“Oh, did I find the spot, love?” Harry teases like he doesn’t know. He’s been an expert in pleasuring you for the past eight years.

“Yes baby, m’gonna come,” you nearly slur with pleasure. The cold metal of his rings brushing against your heated folds in relief.

“Only gonna let you come - if you promise me you’ll come again f’me.”

“I will, H. I wil-“

“Ssh, s’okay. Give it to me, my love,” Harry croons sweetly, leaning to suck a nipple as he speeds up his minstrations.

Your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace, your hips meeting his curled fingers on every thrust as he pushes you over the edge, “fu-fuck,” you moan, trying your best to keep your voice down.

“Tha’s it. M’wife looks so fuckin’ gorgeous when she’s coming on my fingers. Need you on my cock,” Harry grunts, removing his fingers and working to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

He’s positioning himself at your entrance with intent, wasting no time pushing in. No matter how many times you took him - it was always a stretch but it was immensely pleasurable.

“Love you, love our family. Can’t wait f’you two to join me on tour,” Harry pants, attempting to keep his thrust slow and meaningful but he was so turned on he was already becoming sloppy.

“S’going to be so nice. Spend everyday with my husband,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and resting your feet on his bum. You can feel the muscle flexing from his thrusts.

“Yeah, never get tired of hearin’ that word.”

“Husband?” You giggle, “we’ve been married for five years.”

“Still can’t believe you agreed to,” Harry murmurs, his lips pressed against your temple as he becomes more determined. His thumb finding your clit and giving it hard, tight rubs.

Harry could have anyone he wanted. Millions of people lusted after him. It was hard to believe sometimes that he only wanted you. But in moments like this, you never questioned it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, biting his full bottom lip.

He growls, “hush up. Let me fuck you, yeah?”

With that, the only thing that leaves your mouth is whines and gasps as he hits your spot on every fluid thrust with a determined thumb on your nerves.

“Cl-close,” Y/N shutters, legs quivering with sensitivity and arousal.

“Baby, baby wait f’me, m’close,” he begs against your skin, licking and kissing wherever he can reach. He speeds up his movements and you fell him tensing up, his mouth dripping open in an o shape and his eyes squeezing shut - his telltale sign.

You allow yourself to let go at that point and ride out the waves of intense climax with him as he weakly thrust a few more times until he lays his weight on top of you.

“The bubby is going to love South America,” Harry smiles into your mouth. His large palms massaging at your shaky, wet thighs.

“I think she’s going to love being with her daddy more,” Y/N replies, a hand coming to cup his jaw in a slow, languid twist.

—

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beoneofus · 3 years ago

Text

𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙨

fandom: the lost boys

paul x fem! reader x marko

length: long

warnings: reader rants, slight insecurities, tiniest bit of insecure paul, one shower thought, mostly light hearted content, slight lime towards the end.

a/n: I'm in this kind of mood - y'know, late night talks with somebody, but peacefulness and light joking? yeah, like that. figured I'd write this. originally I was just gonna write it with paul, but I thought marko would fit into this as well. hopefully you guys enjoy <3. / ps. not proof read, sorry for any spelling errors! /

edited a/n: I decided to do this a bit differently than what I had planned.. but I still think it turned out alright. let me know if it was enjoyable for you guys, I love feedback.

( unedited, started 4.28.22 - finished 5.7.22 )

the stars that dotted the galaxy-themed sky were beautiful. twinkling, sprouting apart yet staying together in groups, shining bright for all to see. they casted a great amount of light and hope over many of the people that strutted around santa carla that night, including a lone, young woman that lye on her back on the infamous cliff's surface.

y/n was never one to particularly obsess over stars, or even astronomy. she had conclusions that there was much to the world; much more to the galaxy, and space itself. but she was never a person to make her entire personality on the solar system, or look to the stars for guidance, or talk to the moon when she needed to rant.. but, that night specifically, she just felt the need to lay out and stare at the sky. the wonders lurking above drew her in; clouding her mind with not only many ideas, but reminding her she'd never be as perfect as the shiny specs in the astro domain.

while her ( dark/medium/light ) orbs of blossom dusted around, taking in every aspect of the beautiful sky above, two presences were made known. one body laid on her right, while the other made itself accompanied to her left. she didn't have to look to know who was who - the weight, and jingling of different clothing alone, told her the right answers. plus, each male had their own unique smell.

“ hey, marko.. ” the small girl mumbled to the curly haired blonde on her left, once the smell of oil paints and fresh caramel greeted her. the little vampire seemed to have a caramel apple kick recently, so it was no surprise he smelled like the sticky substance that covered the north end of the boardwalk.

“ hey, gorgeo- what, I don't get a hey?! ” marko's reply was cut short by the whining of no other than paul, the lighter toned blonde that was perched on her right side. an amused smile curled onto y/n's lips upon hearing his voice, causing her to finally turn her head away from the sky to look at him.

“ way to go, idiot.. ” marko could be heard mumbling under his breath, once the girl's attention was off of him. she heard him, but paid no mind; choosing to hold a hand out to paul, who was now glaring at the other male. “ don't listen ta' him, paulie - he's just jealous, ” the young woman teased in a light tone, managing a small laugh once the vampire instantly curled into the palm that cupped his cheek. “ — I'm sorry I didn't say hi. I just got a wiff of marko's scent and got distracted. ”

“ s'okay.. ” paul mumbled, letting his eyes close momentarily as he let out a contest sigh. “ I get distracted too, when I smell you.. so I know how it is, butterfly. ”

god, that nickname... everytime the usually high-on-end vampire called her it, her hearted fluttered and continued to sore right into the clouds. she loved how weak him, and his coven brothers, could make her feel with just simple names she adored. it showed that their bond truly was special.

“ we came to see why you've been gone so long.. ” the soft voice of marko in her ear, made her chuckle quietly under her breath; the light feel of his own breathing ghosting over her nape as gentle kisses were left behind. “ y'came out here a few hours ago and never came back - we got worried, angel. ”

another nickname that made her weak in the knees.. marko stuck to sweet nicknames; sometimes unique, sometimes common. but the few he has given her, have made y/n's head fuzzy.. in a good way, of course.

“ I just needed to clear my head.. ” the grin the girl had wore slightly fell, her eyes casting over with a distant look. as paul slid his own eyes open, he caught the glaze over of sadness her orbs held; this caused him to share a look with marko from over their mate's shoulder, seeing as the curly haired male had too, seen the sudden change.

“ ‘ clear your head? ’ - of what? ” paul mumbled, switching his attention back onto y/n. she came back to reality after that question was thrown, causing her to look back into the crazy blonde's eyes that held worry. “ you can talk to us, babe.. ”

“ dido, ” marko floated away from the space he took behind his girlfriend, only to appear in front of her line of vision; body slightly hovering above ground in a laid back position. cheek propped into his palm, while he laid on his side, legs crossed. “ we're always around to listen, y/n. ” and from y/n's point of view, it looked as if marko wanted to say more.. but he didn't. she knew he wasn't always a crazy goof, didn't always have the intention to be evil and kill, but she also knew marko only showed his vulnerable and serious side at certain times. with her, mostly, it was when the two were alone.

“ well.. ” the female sighed, looking away from marko's stern gaze with a drop of her eyes. she was now sitting up, legs in a criss-cross position; both hands seated in her lap. “ the other night on the boardwalk, I was looking at the other girls walking around.. y'know - wavy and curly hair that looked perfectly tamed, waists that seemed slim enough to fit a model's persona, busty bodies that looked just.. right. ” y/n couldn't make eye contact with the two blondes while she spoke, afraid she'd see judgment or disappointment within them for pointing out that she truly didn't meet their standards. “ all the things I'm.. not. ” biting her bottom lip, an inhale was taking through her nose to calm her growing nerves.

talking like this out loud was tricky, and awkward, and made her anxiety rise a lot because she wasn't used to doing this - talking about her insecurities. she didn't know if sounded stupid, or awkward, or even attention seeking.. she didn't know, because she couldn't see from another person's point of view. for all she knew, she could sound like a complete idiot. it terrified the girl, not knowing something; not knowing if she was making herself look like a fool. even though she couldn't possibly know, however, she continued to talk.

“ I know I'm not ugly, but I don't think I deserve you guys.. four, incredibly attractive vampires that have been around for a while; that could get anyone they want.. ” shifting her eyes from off of the ground, she tilted her head back, only to stare at the glistening sky once more. she heard paul inhale sharply, as if he wanted to say something, but she beat him to it. “ I just feel like I'm not enough. and saying this out loud is killing me, ” she pressed her lips together, to try and collect herself, for a small sob threatened to spill through. tears had already gathered on her waterline by then.

“ - but it feels nice to.. to tell you guys, ” y/n finally managed to look at marko and paul, all while her words shakily flew out; small breathes being taken in between. “ even if david and dwayne aren't around... because I know if they were here, I'd actually burst from sounding so pathetic. ” weakly laughing, the young women tore her eyes away from the fallen expressions of her two lovers. she knew she sounded weak, and they probably were only pitying her, but she still couldn't look at them. seeing hurt flash through paul's clay colored, blue spirals broke her heart - and even though her anxiety was convincing her that they didn't truly care... she knew, somehow, that paulie was actually hurting for her.

“ butterfly.. ” the formerly mentioned whispered raspily, sounding almost broken; catching the attention of y/n almost immediately, causing her to raise her head. bangs sweeped across her forehead loosely, swaying as the cool night air blew through. “ why didn't you tell us you felt that way? ” the bright blue eyes that usually shined with happiness, now flashed with hurt and sorrow; the slightest bit of tears gathered at the surface of them being seen, if you looked hard enough.

seeing paul so choked up made y/n regret ever speaking, but she knew it had to be done. otherwise, her own emotions would just bottle up, until she couldn't take it anymore and exploded. they couldn't have that, now could they? “ we don't feel that way. ” marko's low voice now captured her ear. she turned her head to look at the rowdy male, only to see a completely serious look on his face; brows furrowed unusually tight and lips drawn downwards in a frown. “ you're perfect to us, y/n. we don't care how other people look; especially not those whores that crowd the damn boardwalk. ”

a small smile twitched onto the girl's lips upon hearing the crude name, but she didn't dare comment; opting to listen, once paul reached out and cupped her chin between his forefinger and thumb. turning her face back to him. “ babe, we love you, ” he mumbled, face closing in on his girlfriend's slowly, just until their faces were merely inches apart. “ - no one else catches m'attention the way you do... you're the only one that matters, in my eyes. ”

y/n knew paul was telling the truth. he was rarely ever serious, so seeing him like this, showed her he wasn't lying. plus, he wouldn't dare lie to her - she was the one he loved dearly, and lying would only hurt her. why would he hurt his little butterfly?

“ and believe it or not, you're the only one that's ever told david, to his face, that his breath smelled like shit. ” marko cheekily piped in, causing both y/n and paul to look at him. a smirk was curled onto his lips, as he leaned forward, fingers moving to run through the female's hair before threading into a tight grip near her scalp. once he tugged her face towards his, a small gasp left her lips, “ I fell in love with you the moment his face dropped. I've never seen him so shocked before. ”

paul barked his usual laugh, while the smaller of the two grinned sheepishly; cheeks slightly reddening. “ well, that was a while ago.. ” her eyes drifted away slowly, in thought. “ I didn't mean to say that.. It just slipped out because he pissed me off, ” both of the blonde's grinned at their lover's choice of wording. “ but.. wait- ” specs flickered back to meet marko's own; lips parting in surprise. “ you said you were in love with me.. as in- you love me.. ”

it was no secret that all four of the boys love y/n, but the only one to ever say it out loud was paul. the three word sentence fell from his lips barely a month into their relationship, but y/n, and everyone else knew, the words were genuine. the other three were just a bit more reserved; showed their love, instead of saying such a cheesy meaning. yet, here marko was, saying it to the girl he adores because he felt the need to.

and it was worth risking his pride over.. the happiness shining in her eyes? he made that happen, and he loved it.

“ of course I love you.. ” marko mumbled, his eyes sofrening and cheshire grin dropping to a close. licking his lips, he glanced down at y/n's in thought. “ just never knew how to say it. it's not exactly easy, saying something like that out loud.. ”

when you've never actually loved someone before, y/n knew is what he wanted to say. maybe those words didn't fall from the vampire's lips, but she knew that look in his eyes; marko had something serious to say, more to say, but didn't feel it was necessary to add on when it was already so obvious. so, she didn't comment; instead, chose to give an opened mouth smile that was so bright, it put the galaxy to shame.

“ I love you, too. ” she spoke clearly, chin tilted skywards; the familiar feeling of warmth filling her chest. she was proud to finally speak those words out loud to him. “ and I forever will, my favorite pretty boy. ” a hand reached out to place atop the curly mop of hair, only to ruffle the bouncy stands affectionately. the whole thing earned her a love struck look and a small purr of adorance.

“ what about me? ” y/n turned her gaze onto the other vampire, only to his bubble gum pink lips forming a mocking pout. rolling her eyes, the girl leaned forward and wrapped a hand tightly around his forearm. “ come here- ” roughly, he was yanked towards her; a surprised look taking over his face once his body moved into her own. with a teasing grin, the female pressed a loving kiss to his lips.

“ yes, ma'am.. ” paul mumbled against her mouth, a now half-lidded, awe-struck gaze covering his visage. y/n enjoyed how she could instantly have these boys in the palm of her hand, which is why she took advantage of the position; folding her fingers onto one side of his jawline, while her thumb pulled to the other. “ good boy.. ” the main hummed out, only for a small smirk of accomplishment to meet her lips once paul began nuzzling his nose into her cheek happily.

the whole time, marko watched how his girlfriend and coven brother interacted; his own love sick eyes, yet amused filled smirk, playing on his features. it sure was a sight to see, once his partner held a slightly dominant role. it happened sometimes, when she was in the mood or just liked to rile up paul, but marko just loved it.

“ alright, that's enough- ” letting his feet finally touch the rocky ground after a while of just floating, marko moved to take a crouch-loke position beside y/n. his head tilted to the side, once paul through a sideways glare at him; simply earning a cheshire grin back. his eyes flickered onto the young women, after that. “ I think that's enough, otherwise paulie here will have a cow about not getting laid. ”

paul mumbled a ‘ will not ’ under his breath, and both y/n and marko heard, but chose to ignore it. instead, y/n nodded in agreement and lightly shoved paul away. he growled lowly in protest, not wanting to lose the warmth of his beloved, but complied nonetheless; settling to lay back and cross his arms in a child like manner. this vampire always pouted when he didn't get his way. it sure was adorable, which is why his girlfriend snickered quietly while turning away from him.

“ lay with us.. ” the command was quiet, once her doe forming orbs landed on marko. he stared at her for a good minute, face neutral yet in thought.. star gazing wasn't really his forte, since he never really took interest in it, but it wouldn't kill him to spend one night on the cliff to lye back and stare at the night sky. if it made his partner happy, it was worth it.

exhaling through his nose in defeat, he spun on his heels to face the crashing ocean waves, before falling onto his behind. planting his leather covered palms onto the ground, he pushed back, scooting until his waist was centered with hers. he then laid back; arms folding behind his head, while hazel irises stared upwards.

y/n then laid back herself, only for the back of her head to meet paul's arm. looking over at him, she was met with his smiling face, that was looking up towards the sparkling astros instead of at her. chuckling under her breath, she turned her face away; angling it to meet the same volume as the two males.

“ have you guys ever wondered what it'd be like to be a piece of dust? ” paul suddenly questioned, after a moment of silence. another beat past, before a small crackle of laughter suddenly left the shortest of the three.

“ what? ” y/n asked back, shooting an amused glance at her boyfriend. turning his own gaze onto her, his lips parted in fake offense. “ I'm serious, man! just imagine being a piece of dust - not having ta' worry about anything, just floating around and landing on shit you find interesting. ”

another laugh escaped y/n, but this time louder, causing her eyes to squeeze shut and shoulders to slightly roll back, as she clutched her arms to her chest. “ that's the most dumbest shit you've ever said, ” marko piped in, wearing a grin of his own. he didn't look at either of the two, but he knew they were loving this just as much as he was. “ - and that's sayin' something, considering you're an absolute airhead. ”

at the mention of that, paul's smile he displayed slowly fell. he immediately tried to cover it up once y/n looked his way, but of course she had noticed. “ y'okay, baby? ” y/n questioned the quietest she could. It didn't matter how silent she could be, though - marko was right on her other side, so he'd hear her regardless.

“ 'm fine... ” the wild haired blonde mumbled back, only to clear his throat right after, once a small crack could be pointed out. “ don't worry about me, butterfly - I don't get hurt easily. ”

“ that voice break says otherwise. ” marko pushed off of his shoulders to sit up slightly, putting his weight onto his elbows as he looked over at paul. he may seem like an asshole, bit he wasn't... at least not fully. marko still cared for his brothers' feelings. “ what's up, dude? - and don't say nothing, I know you better than you know yourself. ”

for a moment, paul didn't say anything, just continued to stare at the blinking dots in the sky. once he felt like the two weren't going to give up, though, he signed; caving in and looking towards them both. however, his eyes weren't angled to meet either of theirs. “ I just.. ” god was this embarrassing to get out.. he's never actually talked about his feelings out loud, before. “ - I just feel like I actually am dumb sometimes, and when you guys say shit like that, it doesn't help. ”

“ paulie.. ” y/n's eyebrows separated in sorrow, feeling horrible that she didn't know this about her boyfriend. although the guys' were vampires, she should've known they weren't completely capable of not feeling such things. all because they were immoral, didn't mean they lacked human emotions. they felt love, for example; if they could feel love, they should be able to feel other things. “ I'm sorry, sweetheart; I had no idea you felt that way.. ” instantly, her arms were wrapped around him in a hug; hand slipping into his blonde locks as she pulled him close.

once paul buried his face into the girl's neck, she gently began to pet him. “ we won't say things like that anymore.. not unless you're okay with it, alright? ” looking over her shoulder at marko, the boy nodded in agreement; his own worry seeping through by the look that sat upon his baby-ish face. “ there's no need to be insecure, baby - I can promise you, that you're not dumb. you can be a little absentminded, but that's only from the weed you smoke, ” a giggle left y/n, once his hair tickled her chin. “ other than that, you have pretty smart ideas and even greater thoughts. ”

paul hummed against her neck, once he placed a kiss to a spot of exposed skin. pulling back, to look up at y/n, he was met with a soft smile. “ y'really think so..? ”

“ I know so. ” she replied enthusiastically, the growing grin on her lips not once faltering in dishonesty. paul knew his girl would never lie to him just to make him happy, so he grinned right back, choosing to attack her face with kisses only a second later. once her back his the ground from the force of his body strength, she let out a small ‘ oomf! ’; yet, that didn't stop her from giggling onwards after.

“ stop! ” y/n attempted to push him off, all while wearing a beaming grin, but he wouldn't budge. “ cmon, paul; it too much! ” as soon as she let out a laugh, lips molded with her own. she quietly giggled against the crazy rocker's mouth, while wrapping her arms around his neck; pulling him closer, letting her eyes fall closed.. the kiss was sweet, though a bit feverish.

tongue slithering out, swiping over her lower lip, a gentle noise of acknowledgment left the female. even though she wanted to continue on, go further than just kissing, she didn't; choosing to move paul away with a push of her hand. she wouldn't leave marko out like that, it'd be unfair, which is exactly why her fingers cupped over his tingling lips.

“ east there, tiger.. ” a teasing, open lipped smile lined her own mouth. “ we don't need you going further than you need to. ”

his eyes narrowed into a playful glare, but paul didn't attempt to try anything else. simply, he licked her digits, but only to get her to remove them off of her mouth. although it didn't really bother her, since she was so used to paul's antics, and still moved her hand away.

only to have it stolen by marko, of course.

“ don't hog the babe, paul. ” the smaller boy smirked, earning the eyeing attention of his lover. while he placed a kiss onto her knuckles, y/n's brows shot up questionably. “ you're not the only one dating her. ” an unimpressed look took over her visage, but she said nothing; instead, listening to the latter as he replied back.

“ oh trust me, I know, bud. ” smirk slowly lifting onto his lips, extended fangs bow peaking out from behind the appendages of plump skin, the light blonde vampire chuckled lowly. “ we've shared her a few times, so I'm aware I'm not the only one she"a datin'. ”

how on earth did star gazing and talking about their feelings lead to this, is what y/n wanted to ask, but she knew that would get her nowhere. by the predatory look in paul's eyes, and the encouraging one lingering marko's, she knew this night would end how she didn't plan for it to. but was she complaining? absolutely not. being the center of two of her lovers' attention is something she craves.

“ whaddya' say, paulie... ” marko switched his eyes onto the others', watching as paul stared down y/n like he was ready to eat her whole. “ think she can handle both of us, again? ”

“ no doubt 'bout it, mark. ” he hissed out, only to laugh after once a red tint coated her cheeks. “ don't even gotta' ask, I can smell how excited she is. ”

marko looked back over to the young women, only to hum in agreement. his eyes turned to a blazing mix of amber and crimson, a blink later, signifying y/n sure was in for a ride. “ you're right.. stupid of me to ask that. ” thumb rubbing over the soft part of her inner wrist, rolling over the pulse point, the curly haired male felt as the beat hammered against the padding of said appendage. “ hm... I say we give 'er what she wants. ”

“ w— ”

“ shush, butterfly.. ” the tip of paul's nose brushed against her jawline; nostrils expanding once he deeply inhaled her scent. “ let us take good care of you.. ”

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