#like come on now we have to be at least a little serious here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harrysfolklore · 16 days ago

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christ-max -mv1

summary: you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion. wc: 5.8k

folkie radio: HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOUUUU! i hope you're having the best day ever with your loves ones. this fic ended up being longer than i intended but i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You're nestled into Max's side on his couch, wrapped in the soft throw blanket he keeps specifically for these quiet moments together. The afternoon light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Monaco apartment, casting a glow across the room. Your feet are tucked under you, and you can smell the lingering scent of the coffee you both made earlier.

The Netflix show you'd put on - some random documentary about deep-sea creatures - has become mere background noise. Max's fingers are threading through your hair in that gentle way that always makes you melt, occasionally stopping to massage your scalp. .

"I can't believe the season's actually over," you murmur, tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "Feels weird not having to plan around race weekends anymore."

Max chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rests. "Yeah, but now we have to plan around all the end-of-year events instead. Did you see how many galas and ceremonies are coming up?"

"At least those don't involve you flying halfway across the world," you tease, tilting your head to look up at him. His hair is slightly messy, free from its usual styling, and you resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers through it.

"True," he agrees, then glances at his phone on the coffee table. "Speaking of events, I can't believe it's already December. Christmas is going to be here before we know it. Guess time flies when you're busy winning championships."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the opening you've been waiting for. You've been thinking about this for weeks, planning how to bring it up. "Actually… I wanted to ask you something about Christmas," you start, sitting up slightly to face him better.

Max's blue eyes meet yours, curious. "What's on your mind?"

"Well…" you bite your lip, suddenly feeling nervous despite knowing there's no reason to be. "I was wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas with me and my family this year? I know we've kept things private, but I really want them to meet you, and-"

"Wait, really?" Max interrupts, his whole face lighting up with that boyish excitement that made you fall for him in the first place. "You want me to meet your family?"

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Of course I do. We've been together almost a year now, and they keep asking why I'm always smiling at my phone." You playfully poke his side. "Which is your fault, by the way."

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers. "My fault? I'm just being my naturally charming self," he grins, then his expression turns slightly more serious. "But are you sure? I mean, won't they be surprised when you show up with, well…"

"With a four-time World Champion?" you finish for him, laughing. "Actually, my dad might pass out. He's been watching F1 since before I was born. He has no idea I've been dating his favorite driver."

Max's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm his favorite driver?"

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn playfully. "But yeah, he's got your merchandise and everything. It's actually kind of embarrassing how much he talks about you during race weekends."

Max throws his head back laughing, and you can't help but join in. "Oh God, this is going to be interesting," he says, wiping at his eyes. "What about the rest of your family?"

"Well, Mom will probably try to feed you until you burst - she's like that with everyone. And my little sister Ruby, she's seven and she's going to have so many questions. She's in that phase where she wants to know everything about everything."

"I can handle questions," Max says confidently, then hesitates. "What kind of questions are we talking about?"

You pretend to think about it. "Oh, you know, probably things like 'How fast have you ever driven?' 'Have you ever crashed?' 'Do you want to marry my sister?'"

Max nearly chokes on air at the last one, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "You're joking, right?"

"About Ruby? Nope, she has absolutely no filter," you laugh, then soften your voice. "But seriously, they're going to love you. Just be yourself - the you I know, not the racing driver everyone else sees."

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'd love to spend Christmas with your family. I can't wait to meet them." He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Should I wear my race suit when I meet your dad?"

You swat his arm, laughing. "Don't you dare! He'll actually faint." You settle back against his chest, feeling warm and content. "Thank you for saying yes. It means a lot to me."

"Thank you for asking me," he murmurs into your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too," you respond, smiling as his arms tighten around you. The documentary continues playing, forgotten again as you both start planning for Christmas, trading ideas and jokes about how to break the news to your family.

You're sitting cross-legged on Max's bed while he's in the shower, your phone propped up against a pillow as you FaceTime your family. Your mom's face fills most of the screen, with your dad peering over her shoulder and little Ruby bouncing around trying to get a better view.

"Honey, we can barely see you. The lighting is terrible," your mom critiques, and you adjust your position slightly.

"Better?"

"Much better! Now, what's this important thing you wanted to tell us about Christmas?" Your mom asks, while Ruby shouts "Is it presents?" in the background.

You take a deep breath, trying to contain your smile. "Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing someone with me this year… my boyfriend."

There's an immediate explosion of excitement. Ruby starts jumping up and down, your mom gasps dramatically, and your dad's eyebrows shoot up with interest.

"Finally!" your mom exclaims. "We've been wondering when you'd introduce him. You've been so secretive about this boyfriend of yours."

"What's his name?" Ruby pipes up, her face suddenly taking up half the screen as she pushes closer to the camera. "Is he nice? Does he like Disney movies?"

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, Rubes, he's very nice. And his name is…" you pause, knowing what's coming. "Max. Max Verstappen."

There's a moment of silence before your dad bursts out laughing. "Good one, sweetheart. Now, what's his real name?"

"I'm serious, Dad. I'm dating Max Verstappen."

Your mom is trying to hold back her laughter now too. "Honey, isn't that the racing driver you and your father are always watching? The one your dad has all those caps and shirts of?"

"Yes, and I'm actually dating him," you insist, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Ruby's face scrunches up in confusion. "The fast car man? From TV?"

"The very same one, Rubes."

Your dad wipes tears from his eyes. "Come on now, what's next? Are you going to tell us you're best friends with Lewis Hamilton too?"

"Dad!" you groan, running a hand over your face. "I'm being serious! We've been dating for almost a year. I'm literally at his place right now!"

"In Monaco?" your dad asks skeptically. "Prove it."

You swing your phone around to show the familiar view of Monaco through the windows, but your dad just shakes his head. "Could be any apartment in Monaco."

"You're impossible!" you huff. "Fine, don't believe me. You'll see at Christmas."

Ruby presses her face closer to the screen again. "Will he bring his race car?"

"No, Rubes, he can't bring the race car," you say, softening your tone for your little sister. "But I promise you'll love him."

After a few more minutes of your family teasing you about your "imaginary Formula 1 driver boyfriend," you end the call with a mix of frustration and amusement. Just as you flop back onto the bed, you hear the bathroom door open and Max walks out, his hair still damp from the shower.

"How'd it go?" he asks, noticing your expression.

You let out a laugh. "They think I'm making you up. They literally don't believe I'm dating you."

Max raises his eyebrows, looking amused as he sits next to you on the bed. "Really?"

"Really. Dad laughed so hard he nearly cried. And Ruby, my little sister, just wants to know if you're bringing your race car for Christmas."

"Sorry to disappoint Ruby," he grins, then looks thoughtful. "You know, maybe we should've waited to tell them in person. The looks on their faces would've been priceless."

"Oh, don't worry," you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They'll still be priceless. Dad's going to lose it when he realizes all those times he was rambling about you during races, he was actually talking about his daughter's boyfriend."

Max laughs, pulling you closer. "What else should I know before meeting them?"

"Well, Ruby's seven and obsessed with Frozen. She'll definitely make you watch it and probably sing along too."

"I can handle that," he says confidently.

"And recite all the lines?"

"…Maybe not that."

"And act out the scenes with her?"

Max's eyes widen slightly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

You kiss his cheek. "Too late to back out now, Verstappen. You're stuck with us."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he murmurs, pulling you in for a proper kiss. "Even if it means playing Olaf the snowman."

"Oh no, you'll definitely be playing Elsa. Ruby's very particular about casting."

The look of horror on his face makes you burst out laughing, and soon he's joining in too. As your laughter dies down, you can't help but think about how perfect this feels - being here with him, planning to spend Christmas with your family, even if they don't believe you yet. You can't wait to see their faces when you show up at their door with Max Verstappen himself.

"Hey," Max says softly, breaking into your thoughts. "What are you smiling about?"

"Just thinking about how Christmas is going to be interesting this year."

"Interesting is one way to put it," he grins. "Should I wear my race suit when we arrive?"

"Don't you dare! Dad will actually faint."

"That's kind of the point," he winks, and you grab a pillow to hit him with, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

"Let me guess, another text from 'Max Verstappen'?" your dad teases from his spot at the kitchen counter, making air quotes with his fingers. He's wearing one of his many Red Bull Racing shirts, completely oblivious to the irony.

"Actually, yes," you reply, rolling your eyes. "He'll be here soon."

Your mom chuckles while peeling potatoes. "Honey, you can just tell us who your boyfriend really is. We won't judge, even if he's not a Formula 1 champion."

"Mom, I've told you a million times-"

"LOOK!" Ruby crashes into the kitchen, pointing at the TV in the living room where they're showing highlights from the last race. "It's YN's boyfriend!" She dissolves into giggles, clearly in on what she thinks is a funny joke.

"Very funny, Rubes," you mutter, but check your phone again when it buzzes.

Max: "Just turned onto your street. Nice neighborhood 😉"

Your heart starts beating faster. "He's here," you announce, heading toward the front door.

"Oh, we're still doing this?" your dad calls after you, amused. "Should I get my Max Verstappen cap for him to sign?"

"Actually, Dad, yes, you should," you shout back, slipping on your boots.

"Sweetie," your mom starts in that gentle voice she uses when she thinks you're being ridiculous, "you don't have to-"

The sound of a car pulling up interrupts her. You open the front door and step out onto the porch, watching as Max's car comes to a stop in your driveway. Your family has crowded behind you in the doorway, probably expecting to catch you in your "lie."

Max steps out of the car, looking unfairly handsome in his dark winter coat and scarf. His face lights up when he sees you, and you don't hesitate to run down the steps toward him.

"Hi," he grins, catching you in a tight hug and lifting you slightly off your feet. "Missed you."

You hear a loud gasp behind you, followed by what sounds like your dad choking on air.

"Missed you too," you murmur against his chest before turning to face your family, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist.

The scene on your front porch is priceless. Your dad's mouth is hanging open, his face pale except for two bright red spots on his cheeks. Your mom has both hands pressed to her face in shock. Ruby is the only one moving, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"IT REALLY IS THE FAST CAR MAN!" she shrieks, breaking the silence as she barrels down the steps toward you both.

Max laughs, crouching down to her level. "Hi Ruby. Nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me a lot about you."

"You're real!" she exclaims, poking his arm as if to make sure.

"Very real," he confirms, looking thoroughly amused.

"I… you… but…" your dad stammers, still frozen in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. LN," Max says, standing back up and guiding you and Ruby toward the porch. "Thank you for having me for Christmas."

Your mom seems to snap out of her shock first. "Oh my goodness, please come in! It's freezing out here. I… oh dear… the potatoes… I should… more food… I need to…"

"Mom, breathe," you laugh, as Max follows you inside.

Your dad hasn't moved an inch, still staring at Max like he's seeing a ghost. "You're… you're actually… the Brazil overtake…"

"Dad, no F1 talk yet!" you warn. "Let him at least get his coat off first."

"Right! Yes! Coat!" your dad says frantically. "I'll take your coat! And then maybe… could you… would you mind signing my…"

"Collection?" you finish for him, smirking. "The one you thought I was making up?"

Max raises his eyebrows at you, remembering your conversation about your dad's merchandise collection.

Ruby tugs on Max's hand. "Do you want to see my Frozen dolls? And can we watch the movie? Sissy said you've never seen it!"

"Ruby, let him settle in first," your mom calls from the kitchen, where she appears to be panic-cooking. "Oh God, is the food good enough? Do Formula 1 drivers have special diets? Should I-"

"Mom, the food will be perfect," you assure her, then turn to Max. "See? I told you they'd be cool about it."

Max tries to suppress his laugh as your dad continues to stare at him in awe, your mom stress-cooks enough food to feed an army, and Ruby continues pulling on his hand.

"Very cool," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Though I think your dad might need to sit down."

"I'm fine!" your dad squeaks, then immediately sits down heavily on the nearest chair. "Just… just give me a minute to process that my daughter is actually dating Max Verstappen and I've been accidentally talking about my future son-in-law during every race and-"

"DAD!" you exclaim, feeling your face heat up while Max chuckles beside you.

"What? I'm just saying… all those times I said 'that Verstappen boy would make someone a good husband someday' and it turns out-"

"Okay!" you interrupt loudly. "Who wants coffee? Max, come help me with coffee!"

As you drag a laughing Max toward the kitchen, you hear Ruby start explaining the entire plot of Frozen to him, your mom muttering about needing to buy more food, and your dad still talking to himself about racing statistics.

"Still think this was a good idea?" you whisper to Max.

He pulls you closer, grinning. "The best. Though you might want to tell your dad to breathe before he passes out."

"Can we build a snowman after coffee?" Ruby calls out.

"Only if Max gets to be Elsa!" you shout back, earning you a playful glare from your boyfriend.

Looking around at your slightly chaotic but loving family, and seeing how naturally Max fits into it all, you can't help but smile. This is definitely going to be a Christmas to remember.

The initial chaos has settled into a cozy scene in your living room. You're curled up on the couch next to Max, who has Ruby practically attached to his side. She hasn't stopped talking since everyone sat down, and Max, to his credit, is giving her his complete attention.

"And then Elsa makes this huge ice castle," Ruby explains, using elaborate hand gestures. "Can you drive as fast as Elsa runs up the mountain?"

"Probably faster," Max answers with a grin, making Ruby's eyes widen.

"Even in the snow?"

"Even in the snow."

Your dad, who's finally regained his ability to form complete sentences, sits in his armchair trying very hard not to bombard Max with racing questions. He keeps opening his mouth, then closing it again when you give him a warning look.

"It's okay, Dad," you laugh. "You can ask him one race question. Just one."

Your dad looks like he might cry from happiness. "The overtake in Brazil-"

"Which one?" Max asks with a playful smirk, and your dad launches into an enthusiastic discussion about racing lines and grip levels.

Your mom returns from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies, having finally accepted that she doesn't need to cook enough food for an entire F1 paddock. "Here we go. I hope it's okay, Max. YN mentioned you like hot chocolate."

"It's perfect, thank you," Max says warmly, accepting a mug.

Ruby immediately reaches for a cookie, then pauses. "Do race car drivers eat cookies?"

"Only the fast ones," Max whispers conspiratorially, making her giggle.

"Ruby, give Max some space to breathe," your mom says gently, noticing how your sister is practically in his lap.

"It's fine," Max assures her. "I have nephews. I'm used to it."

Ruby beams at this information. "Really? Do they like Frozen too?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure they'd love to hear your explanation of it," he says, and Ruby launches into another detailed plot summary.

You catch your mom watching the interaction with soft eyes, all her earlier panic forgotten. She meets your gaze and mouths 'He's wonderful' when Ruby isn't looking.

Your dad has moved on from Brazil to discussing tire strategies, but stops himself mid-sentence. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you. You live this stuff."

"Not at all," Max says sincerely. "It's nice talking about it with someone who understands racing. YN usually just tells me to stop being a nerd when I talk about tire compounds."

"Because you spent two hours explaining the difference between C3 and C4 compounds!" you defend yourself.

"It's fascinating stuff," your dad says eagerly, and Max nods in agreement.

"Oh no, there's two of them now," you mutter to your mom, who laughs.

Ruby tugs on Max's sleeve. "Can we watch Frozen now? Please? You promised!"

"Ruby, let Max rest a bit," your mom starts, but Max shakes his head.

"A promise is a promise," he says solemnly to Ruby. "Should we watch it now?"

Ruby squeals with delight, jumping up to get the remote. Your dad looks slightly disappointed that his racing talk is being cut short, but you can see him hiding a smile at Ruby's excitement.

"Fair warning," you whisper to Max as Ruby sets up the movie, "she knows every word. And she will sing along."

"As long as she doesn't expect me to sing," he whispers back.

"MAX!" Ruby calls, patting the spot next to her on the floor where she's arranged pillows. "You have to sit here! It's the best spot!"

Max obliges, settling down next to her while you stay on the couch, exchanging amused looks with your parents as Ruby starts the movie, already mouthing along to the opening music.

Your mom leans over to you. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you," she whispers. "He's lovely. And so good with Ruby."

"I told you," you whisper back, watching as Ruby explains to Max why Elsa has ice powers.

Your dad joins in the whispered conversation. "Think he'd sign my mug collection later?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm just saying, Christmas cards would be sorted for the next few years…"

You're about to respond when Ruby shushes you all loudly. "This is the best part!"

Max catches your eye and winks, clearly enjoying himself despite being roped into a Disney movie viewing with a very enthusiastic seven-year-old commentator. Your heart swells watching him with your family, how naturally he fits in, how gentle he is with Ruby.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Ruby starts singing along with the movie.

"Later, Rubes," you promise. "Let's watch the movie first."

She nods seriously, then turns to Max. "Pay attention to this part. It's very important."

"I won't miss a second," he promises, and Ruby beams at him before turning back to the screen.

Your mom reaches over and squeezes your hand, giving you a knowing look. Even your dad has stopped thinking about racing long enough to appreciate the moment – his youngest daughter sharing her favorite movie with your boyfriend, who happens to be the F1 driver he's been fan-boying over for years.

It's perfect, you think, watching your family and Max together. Different from how you imagined telling them, but perfect nonetheless.

"Shh!" Ruby whispers loudly. "Elsa is about to sing Let It Go!"

Max shoots you a slightly panicked look as Ruby starts to stand up, clearly ready to perform the whole number. You just grin and shrug. After all, you did warn him about the singing.

Later that evening, you finally manage to steal a moment alone with Max. Ruby had fallen asleep during the third replay of Frozen, and your parents took her up to bed before retreating to the kitchen to finish some Christmas preparations.

You find Max on the back porch, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. The winter air is crisp, and you can see his breath forming little clouds in the darkness. Quietly, you step out and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

"Hey," he says softly, turning in your arms to face you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Needed a little break from being Elsa?"

You laugh quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "You were amazing with Ruby today. I think you're officially her new favorite person."

"She's a sweet kid," he smiles, then adds with a playful glint in his eyes, "Though I didn't expect to watch Frozen two times in one day."

"Just wait until tomorrow. She'll probably want to act it out."

He groans dramatically, but you can see the fondness in his expression. "The things I do for you."

"Mmm, and I appreciate every one of them," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

Max responds immediately, one hand moving to cup your face while the other pulls you even closer. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of unspoken emotions. When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being so perfect with my family. For watching Frozen multiple times. For not running away when my dad started his racing commentary."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I like your family. Your dad's racing knowledge is impressive, your mom's trying very hard not to mother me to death, and Ruby…" he pauses, smiling. "Ruby reminds me of Victoria at that age."

You snuggle closer, seeking his warmth in the cold air. "I was so nervous about telling them, and then even more nervous when they didn't believe me. But this… this is better than I imagined."

"Even with your dad asking me to sign his entire Red Bull merchandise collection?"

"Hey, at least he waited until after dinner," you laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure he's in there right now planning which items to bring out first."

Max wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you," he says quietly, and your heart skips a beat like it does every time he says those words.

"I love you too," you reply, tilting your face up for another kiss.

This one is deeper, more passionate, until you hear the back door creak and quickly step apart.

"Oh!" your mom exclaims, looking flustered. "Sorry, I just… wanted to ask about breakfast preferences… but it can wait… carry on!"

She disappears back inside, and you both burst into quiet laughter.

"We should probably go back in," you sigh, though you make no move to leave his embrace.

"Probably," he agrees, but instead of letting go, he pulls you back for one more kiss. "Five more minutes?"

You smile against his lips. "Five more minutes."

In the quiet of Christmas eve, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but think how perfectly he fits into your life, into your family, into your heart. Tomorrow there'll be more Frozen, more racing talk, more of Ruby's endless questions, but right now, it's just the two of you, and it's everything.

The winter sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You're wrapped in warmth, nestled against Max's chest with his arm draped around your waist. His steady breathing tells you he's awake before he even moves.

"Good morning," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with sleep. His lips brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you whisper back, feeling his hand slowly slide beneath your sleep shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Sleep well?" he asks innocently, but his actions are anything but innocent as he presses closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

"Max," you breathe, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and knowing you should stop. "We can't… my parents…"

"Then we'll have to be very, very quiet," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. His hand travels higher under your shirt, making your breath hitch.

You turn in his arms, ready to either give in or properly protest - though the way he's looking at you, eyes dark with desire and that signature smirk playing on his lips, makes you lean heavily toward the former.

"You're trouble," you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair.

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "You love it."

Just as his hand starts to wander again, a voice pierces through the quiet morning:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAS!" Ruby's excited scream echoes through the entire house, followed by the thundering of small feet running down the hallway. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Max drops his forehead to your shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Your sister has impeccable timing."

"Welcome to Christmas with Ruby," you laugh, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "I tried to warn you."

"YN! MAX!" Ruby's fists pound on your door. "GET UP! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And it SNOWED!"

"Five more minutes, Rubes!" you call back.

"NO MINUTES! NOW!" she insists, continuing to knock. "Mom said breakfast is ready and Dad made hot chocolate and I SAW A HUGE PRESENT WITH MY NAME ON IT!"

Max chuckles against your shoulder. "I suppose we should…"

"PLEASE!" Ruby calls again. "I promise I'll let you drink your coffee first!"

"That's quite the offer from her," you tell Max. "She usually doesn't allow any delays on Christmas morning."

"We're coming, Ruby!" Max calls out, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give us two minutes to get dressed."

"TWO MINUTES! I'm counting!"

You can hear her dramatically counting down in the hallway, making Max laugh. "She's serious about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

The living room is a festival of color and chaos when you finally make it downstairs. Ruby's bouncing by the tree in her Christmas pajamas, while your parents are settled on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaims. "I counted way past two minutes!"

"Sorry, princess," Max says, accepting a coffee mug from your mom. "But I'm here now."

"Max, sweetheart, you really didn't have to get us anything," your mom says, noticing the pile of presents he'd arranged under the tree last night.

"Of course I did," he replies warmly. "It's Christmas."

Ruby's practically vibrating with excitement as your dad starts distributing gifts. "Can I open mine from Max first? Please?"

At your nod, she tears into the elaborate wrapping paper, gasping when she reveals a beautiful wooden chest with golden details. "It's like a treasure chest!"

"Open it," Max encourages, smiling.

Ruby lifts the lid carefully, her eyes widening. Inside is a complete collection of princess dresses, each one a perfect replica from different Disney movies, along with matching accessories and a tiara for each one.

"The chest is magical," Max explains, kneeling beside her. "Every time you open it, there might be a new surprise inside. And look at this…" He reaches in and pulls out a small envelope.

Ruby opens it to find a letter with the Disney castle letterhead. "Dear Princess Ruby," she reads aloud, her voice getting more excited with each word. "You are cordially invited to spend a royal weekend at Disney World, where you will have a private breakfast with all the Disney princesses…"

She doesn't even finish reading before launching herself at Max, nearly knocking him over. "Thank you thank you thank you! Can I try on the Elsa dress right now?"

"After presents," your mom laughs. "Let's see what else Santa brought."

Your dad opens his gift next, finding an envelope that makes him pause. "Son," he says, voice thick with emotion as he reads the contents. "This is…"

"VIP passes to the British Grand Prix," Max confirms. "Including garage access, grid walk, everything."

Your dad has to sit down, clutching the passes like they might disappear. "This is… I can't…"

"And this," Max hands him another package, "is just a little something extra."

Inside is a vintage racing jacket from your dad's favorite driver from the 80s, signed and authenticated. Your dad actually tears up.

Your mom opens her gift next, despite protesting again that Max shouldn't have gotten them anything. She unwraps a beautiful pair of earrings.

"Oh, Max," she whispers, "This is beautiful."

Ruby, who has been surprisingly patient, tugs at Max's sleeve. "Can we do my princess breakfast now?"

"After we finish presents," you laugh. "And maybe we should have real breakfast first?"

"But I'm a princess now," she declares. "Princesses have special breakfast times."

Your mom shakes her head fondly. "How about pancakes fit for a princess?"

"With chocolate chips?" Ruby negotiates.

"With chocolate chips," your mom confirms. "Max, honey, how do you like your pancakes?"

"However they're made is perfect," he assures her, but your mom is already heading to the kitchen, muttering about making sure she has enough chocolate chips.

Your dad finally finds his voice again. "Max, this is too much…"

"It's not," Max says firmly. "You're… you're family now. Or at least, I hope…"

He glances at you meaningfully, making your heart skip a beat.

Later, after pancakes and multiple princess dress changes from Ruby, you manage to steal some time alone with Max in your favorite spot on the back porch. The morning sun has warmed the air slightly, but there's still a crisp winter chill that gives you an excuse to stay close to him.

"Your turn," Max says softly, pulling out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a velvet jewelry box. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with two intertwined pendants - a heart and a tiny racing helmet.

"Max," you breathe, touching the pendants gently. "It's beautiful."

"Look at the back," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of nervousness you rarely hear.

You turn the heart over to find an engraving: "You're my biggest victory. -MV"

"I love you," you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if you're the most precious thing in his world.

When you finally part, you hand him your gift - a wrapped box that makes him raise his eyebrows at the weight.

Inside, he finds a handmade scrapbook filled with your personal moments - sneaky paddock kisses, quiet mornings at home, victory celebrations, and candid moments no one else has seen. The final page holds a photo from yesterday - Max on the floor with Ruby, both laughing during their third viewing of Frozen.

"This is…" he starts, voice thick with emotion.

"Wait," you say softly, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a key on a simple keychain. "I thought… maybe… if you wanted…"

"Move in with you?" he finishes, breaking into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your heart race. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other holds the key carefully.

"MAX!" Ruby's voice carries from inside. "I need help with my Cinderella shoes! And then we have to build a snowman! A FROZEN snowman!"

You both laugh against each other's lips.

"Duty calls, Elsa," you tease.

"Only if you'll be my Olaf," he grins, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Always," you promise, letting him lead you back inside where Ruby waits, already changed into her third princess dress of the morning.

Your dad catches your eye as you pass, "If you don't marry this boy," he whispers, "I will."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, then heads outside to join the snowman-building committee.

Your mom appears at your other side, wrapping an arm around you. "He's right, you know. He's perfect for you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, watching Max let Ruby direct him on where to place the snowman's arms. "I know," you smile. "I know."

"Best Christmas ever?" she asks softly.

Looking at your family, and Max in the middle of it all, belonging there like he's always been part of it - you smile.

"Best Christmas ever," you agree.

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tobiasdrake · 11 months ago

Text

*deep breath* Okay. Here we go.

I don't think the Netflix Avatar show likes women very much. It's a great show for fans of Aang, Sokka, Zuko, and Iroh specifically. All four of those characters get a ton of great material. In fact, it's super great for Sokka stans, because the show takes him ultra-seriously and can't go five minutes without one character or another (usually a woman) praising him.

But the way it handles its female cast is troublesome.

Katara

So, all three of the main trio got some changes made to their stories. They changed Aang's story so that he wasn't running away from his responsibilities; He was just clearing his head and somehow accidentallied himself into a tsunami. Whoopsy-dooodle. Aang did nothing wrong.

They changed Sokka's story so that him being a leader of his people and a great guardian warrior is treated with complete seriousness. Multiple times, characters stop to talk about how brave and noble Sokka is for taking on such an intense responsibility, and tell him to his face what a great warrior and a wonderful leader he is. Also his misogyny is erased.

And they changed Katara's story so that she directly got her mom killed because she sucks at waterbending.

Katara tries to waterbend to attack the Fire Nation soldier but couldn't manage it, provoking the soldier to start actively searching for her and forcing her mom to fake a waterbending attack and draw his fire. They changed Katara's story so that her bad decision making fucking got her mom killed.

This is treated with the same level of severity as "Sokka was bullied by mean kids and also his dad doesn't think he's good enough to be a leader."

"I hoped Sokka would do better but not everyone is meant to have people's lives in their hands," Sokka's dad says of him.

Yeah, you're right, that's totally comparable to watching your mom get barbecued because you tried to waterbend in a situation you shouldn't have and then failed.

In fact, they give Sokka's greatest trauma more weight because it gets examined again with Yue next episode, while Katara actively getting her mom killed isn't brought up again at all. We get traumatized glimpses of it throughout the season leading up to the reveal, but after this scene in episode 5, it never comes up again.

But to be fair, Katara was a child. An event this significant would surely have motivated her, driving her to become the great waterbender she is now, right?

No! Katara sucks at waterbending and needs men who aren't even waterbenders to teach her how to waterbend. She requires instruction from Aang in episode 1 to learn how to waterbend, then from Jet in episode 3 to learn how to waterbend better.

And unlike the show, her relationship with Aang isn't a give-and-take; Katara doesn't teach Aang a single goddamn thing. He never learns to waterbend. She is a strictly a pupil throughout the whole season. Though she at least gets officially labeled a master in episode 8, so there's that.

In any case, the whole traumatic memory thing isn't even the only time she's directly compared with Sokka. Episodes 3 and 4 see Katara and Sokka bicker over whose morally dubious side character is better. Sokka likes the Mechanist and Katara likes Jet.

Ultimately, Katara is forced to eat crow when Jet turns out to be the worst, while Sokka is vindicated when the Mechanist sees the error of his ways and reforms. But not before two separate arguments where Sokka calls Katara childish and accuses her of acting like a little girl.

Arguments ultimately resolved when Katara apologizes to Sokka for not adequately respecting his very serious and ultra important role as village protector and leader. Gives him a whole speech about how great and glorious he is. And Sokka... appreciates Katara learning to respect him properly, I guess, because he never offers any similar sentiments back to her.

The show just... They need you to know how important Sokka is, okay? It's very important that you respect Sokka.

Suki

Suki suffers tremendously from that whole "Sokka's misogyny was removed" thing. Y'know, because they need something else to do with that episode. The show is deeply aware that Suki is Sokka's love interest, so they just do that right off the bat. Suki falls madly in love with him from the moment they meet, and spends the entire episode making goo-goo eyes and trying to get him to Notice Me Senpai.

They still do the "Suki Trains Sokka" stuff. But Sokka is a serious, dignified manly man worthy of the deepest respect now, so of course they don't make him wear the Kyoshi uniform. Instead, the main purpose of his training is to allow them to flirt some more. It's less martial arts training and more an excuse to grope each other and near-kiss.

Suki's just a waifu now. She still fights real good, but all of the stuff that made her relationship with Sokka interesting has been erased.

Yue

Yue, similarly, leaps straight to shipping from the word go. They write out her fiance, Hahn, by having Yue briefly meet Sokka earlier in the season. She spends one minute talking to him in the Spirit World about Spirit World lore; In that time, she falls so desperately, madly, unfathomably in love with him that she breaks off her marriage to Hahn and devotes herself to waiting for him to one day come to her.

"Never have I known such joys as that time you let me explain the spirit bear Hei Bei to you. Truly, we are destined to be together for life."

Like with Suki, they go out of their way to have Yue and Sokka already be a ship from the word 'go' so they don't have to spend time developing any kind of meaningful attraction.

They just. They really want you to know that Sokka is the manliest and most desirable man ever to walk this earth. It is very important that you understand how great he is. Women hurl themselves into his arms with zero effort whatsoever, because he's just so goddamn irresistible.

Fortunately, Hahn is super okay with this turn of events. He's the most chill guy ever, he gets along perfectly well with Sokka, and he completely supports Yue's right to dump him! In the famously misogynistic Northern Water Tribe, no less! What a swell guy. Aren't men swell?

June

June gets hit with that "rewritten as hollow waifu" stick too, but her eyes are set on Iroh. They rewrote June to be super attracted and flirty towards the man who was her unwanted sexual harasser in the source material. So that's fun.

Also, she barely does anything. Zuko hires her to find Aang, she succeeds, and then she fucks right off out of the show - But she manages to find time to express how unbelievably sexy Iroh is twice during that time.

She seriously just dropped into the show to flirt with Iroh and leave. She is unbelievably inconsequential.

Kyoshi

And then there's Kyoshi. They really want you to hate Kyoshi. She's constantly shot from below, as if looking down on Aang and the audience. Her voice takes on a demonic echoing reverb at one point as she's screaming at Aang that "THE AVATAR MUST BE A MERCILESS WARRIOR!!!"

She despises Aang, calling him a coward for running away from his responsibilities - Which, I remind you, is no longer a plot point because they unwrote that flaw from his character. So she's just a complete and utter asshole, shot from the asshole angle, yelling violently at him with asshole sound effects. They want you to despise this woman.

Azula

Awkwardly, they do not seem to want you to despise Azula.

There's a lot to be said for how Ozai treats Azula in the original show. The way the favoritism he shows her is every bit as cruel and manipulative as the unfavoritism that he shows Zuko. Ozai does not love Azula. He loves the reflection of himself he sees in her eyes, and his encouragement urges her to polish herself to ensure his reflection always shines through.

This is not that. The show instead erases the favoritism entirely. Ozai doesn't really care one way or another about either of his kids. He plays them against each other, bragging openly to Azula about how great Zuko is and unpleasably writing Azula off as weak and useless.

They've rewritten the dynamic between abusive father and his two abused kids in order to take Azula's pride away. Reimagining her from a gifted prodigy who excels at imitating the toxic behaviors of a father who doesn't truly care for her, to a put-upon overachiever tearing herself in knots to live up to the standards of her unpleasable father.

This results in a truly wild portrayal of Azula as insecure and jealous of Ozai's seemingly love for Zuko. Here, she is simply a browbeaten child constantly complaining to her friends about how mean her father is and conspiring to get one up over Daddy's Golden Child Zuko.

Which she fails at, because she backs Zhao. Zuko deftly defeats her without even realizing they're in competition.

Conclusion

The season ends well for some of these women. It ends promising that maybe we'll see Katara teaching Aang some day. It ends with Zhao bragging that Ozai just used Zuko to train Azula so maybe we'll see the more confident and misguidedly proud Azula some day. Yue becomes the moon like she's supposed to. June's still out there so maybe she'll get to do something again some day.

Katara gets to fight Pakku and lose, but she looks pretty cool. She gets to fight Zuko and lose, but she looks pretty cool. Azula learns to lightningbend because she's just so mad about Ozai's contempt for her and favoritism for Zuko, which isn't how you lightningbend.

But promises of future content fall flat when the content that exists is so underwhelming. This season made its feelings on these characters pretty evident, and it's unwise to expect better material from creators who've disappointed you with the material they already made.

The women of Netflix Avatar simply do not get to shine, outside of superficial moments like the "Women of Northern Water Tribe demand the right to fight and then fuck off and don't do anything for the entire rest of the episode" bit.

"In the midst of battle, we demand that you stop being sexist and give us permission to fight! This is a way better idea than convincing you to teach us to fight before the battle begins."

The characters of this show feel as if they've been reimagined to glorify the boys at the expense of the girls. The boys are treated with a great amount of care. They're dignified and made important movers of the plot, with their rough edges sanded off. While the girls are molded around them.

#avatar the last airbender #drake watches netflix last airbender #kyoshi #katara #azula #suki #yue #june

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chheolie · 6 months ago

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"when i met jeonghan, i never imagined i would have two other perfect copies of him in my life."

choi seungcheol as father of a little girl in primary school.

d/n = daughter name

you and seungcheol received a notice from your daughter's school asking that at least one of you should come to the teachers' office. normally, you are the one who attends d/n's school meetings, but since seungcheol had a day off, he offered to go.

upon arriving at the school, in front of the teachers' office, he found your daughter sitting on a bench, her head down, swinging her legs. seungcheol approached calmly but worried. he knelt down, held d/n's hands, and asked in a gentle voice, "what happened, dear?" d/n didn't respond, continuing to look at the ground.

soon, the teacher noticed seungcheol's arrival and approached. he stood up to greet her formally.

"mr. choi, sorry to make you come here, but in cases like this, we must follow protocol," the teacher said. "d/n hit a classmate, and we advise that her parents talk to her."

seungcheol was surprised by the news, as his daughter was not one to hit others; on the contrary, she was a sweet and delicate girl. he looked at d/n and felt a pang in his heart seeing her so sad.

"oh... i'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say. "this won't happen again."

the teacher nodded and asked him to sign a notice of awareness, which he did. "shall we go home?" he asked with the same gentleness, picking up the backpack beside her.

she stood up and took her father's hand. the two walked in silence to the car. seungcheol knew she was afraid of being scolded, so he preferred to respect her space.

d/n settled into the back seat. while adjusting her seatbelt, seungcheol said, "don't worry, my princess, appa won't scold you. but i need to understand what happened." he looked into her eyes, conveying reassurance.

the little girl hesitated for a moment but with sad eyes said, "i'll talk when we get home and are with omma."

seungcheol agreed in silence, patted her hair, and closed the door. he then sat in the driver's seat and started the car, glancing at his daughter from time to time in the rearview mirror.

upon arriving home, you were in the living room waiting for them. you stood up seeing the frustration in your husband's eyes and your daughter's head down.

"what happened?" you asked, worried but maintaining a calm tone.

"d/n, can you tell us now?" seungcheol asked.

"a boy spent the entire class pulling my hair," she began with a trembling voice. "so i did what uncle jeonghan told me to do."

"what did uncle jeonghan tell you to do?" seungcheol asked, raising an eyebrow, fearing the answer.

"he said that if any boy at school messed with me, i should kick his butt," she replied.

you controlled yourself as much as possible not to laugh. the situation was funny; you would definitely have done the same, and jeonghan would definitely say something like that.

seungcheol gave you a reproachful look. he knew you wanted to laugh because he knew you perfectly.

"i can't believe i have three of you in my life," cheol murmured, shaking his head.

you placed a hand on seungcheol's shoulder, trying to comfort him but unable to hide a smile.

"we're going to talk to uncle jeonghan about this, and you, little princess, need to understand that violence is not the solution, even if he started it," you said to your daughter, with a firm but loving look.

d/n nodded, understanding she had caused trouble, but feeling supported by her parents.

seungcheol decided to impose a light punishment so d/n could reflect on what she had done: no snacks for a week. after talking to d/n, he called your brother, jeonghan.

"jeonghan, we need to talk about what you told d/n," seungcheol started, serious.

"what did i say?" he asked, confused.

"you told her to kick other kids' butts," seungcheol said sternly.

on the other end of the line, jeonghan laughed.

"ah, so my little princess really did that?" jeonghan responded proudly, still laughing.

"it's not funny," seungcheol scolded. "she needs to learn to handle these situations differently."

"sorry, cheol, i didn't think she would take it so seriously," jeonghan said, still in an amused tone.

after finishing the call, seungcheol finally relaxed on the couch. he saw his daughter approaching with a sweet, bright look; she knew perfectly how to melt her appa's heart.

"appa, i'm sorry for what i did. i promise not to do it again," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

seungcheol took a deep breath, trying to maintain his resolve.

"i know, dear, but you're still punished with no snacks for a week."

d/n, however, didn't give up. she was good at this. she continued to stroke her father's face and looked at him with the most adorable eyes only she could make.

"appa, please... just one snack?" she asked, with the sweetest voice possible.

seungcheol tried to resist, but her affection was irresistible. he sighed again and finally gave in.

"alright, just one," he said, defeated.

you, watching the scene from afar, couldn't contain your laughter. "i knew you wouldn't resist her," you said, laughing.

seungcheol looked at you with an embarrassed smile.

"it's hard to say no to her," he admitted.

d/n smiled, happy to have gotten what she wanted. before taking the snack, she hugged her father again.

"i love you, appa," she said, with a mischievous smile.

seungcheol, still smiling, responded: "i love you too, my little one."

d/n then held out the snack to him, with an expectant look.

"want to share the snack with me, appa? so we can eat together!"

seungcheol hesitated for a moment, but d/n's kindness and affection were irresistible. he accepted the snack with a smile.

"sure, let's share."

you laughed to yourself, watching your mini-you in action.

"when i met jeonghan, i never imagined i would have two other perfect copies of him in my life," seungcheol commented, seeing you laugh at the situation.

#choi seungcheol #seventeen fanfic #svt #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #scoups #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol fluff #svt scoups

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randomsuggesteduseername · 2 months ago

Text

—RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW

❝ MASTERLIST ❞

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

wc: 4.7k

best friends to lovers, making out, slight smut,

prompts: “Kiss me to prove we’re not in love”

Your mouth might’ve ran faster than your brain could process it. At least that’s how it feels when you watch the blush spread over Steve’s cheeks, paired with a frown meant to help keep his composure. “You want me to kiss you?” His voice wavers slightly, checking in to see that his own brain didn’t produce that thought out of thin air. It’s been long since Steve’s felt this nervous and unsure of himself around you, usually he’s all flirty smiles and cheeky words, yet now he’s been reduced to a deafening silence.

“Yes, kiss me so we can prove once and for all that nothing is going on between us.” Arms crossed over your chest after placing the bowl of caramel popcorn down. The most indignant look on your face as you stare at him expectantly from your side of the couch. The blue-ish hue the tv casts onto Steve’s side profile highlights the way his eyes stay wide when the words slip out of your mouth. “We are not Harry and Sally.” You argue with a crooked brow which seems to earn an amused huff from him.

This all started when he brought a new tape home, the hottest release of the year ‘When Harry met Sally…’ At first glance, nothing but a simple rom-com, little did you know it would put you and your best friend in a position you’ve never thought you’d ever end up.

Steve’s been adamant about the movie the whole night, calling it a heartwarming love story, while you, thinking clearly, stood your ground and told him that it ruined the vision of friendship between men and women. Of course he didn’t get it, his love-deprived brain worked in ways you’ll never understand.

“Admit it…” His eyes swiped over your face quickly as his head leaned back against the couch and to the side to face you. That grin of his couldn’t be more cocky. “You’ve thought about me like that at least once.” Almost stating it rather than asking, you shove a foot into his hip, thanks to your laying down position along the length of the couch which kept him in your reach as he occupied the place left on the couch next to your feet. The ‘humf’ sound he makes instinctively at your shove has you rolling your eyes and looking back at the TV screen.

“Kill me if I ever do.” You deadpan, the look on your face is nothing less than serious. His accusation is absurd, how can he think that you’ve ever viewed him as anything other than your best friend? His hands raise in faux defeat with a slightly amused look on his face, his gaze pulling away from you, at least momentarily until you open your mouth to speak again. “You don’t believe me, do you? Oh my god, Harrington, you’re so arrogant!” Huffing, you get up from the couch, padding over the soft, fluffy carpet the Harringtons recently bought for their living room.

Despite the coffee table topped to the brim with snacks and drinks you feel the need for a glass of water instead of a sugary and fizzy beverage. “It’s not a good look on you at all.” You let him know as you tuck some hair behind your ear, pouring yourself a glass of water, hearing his voice ring out from the living room. “So you think I have good looks, huh?”

You’d roll your eyes again at him if you could, but something tells you you’ll end up with a headache if you keep doing that. Taking the glass back with you, you claim your spot onto the couch, this time your legs curling up next to you. The movie long forgotten as it keeps playing on the TV, now only serving illumination purposes, you’re stuck on the disagreement tonight’s movie started.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You huff. He thinks it’s cute, he loves riling you up from time to time. “You’re crazy if you think I could ever be with you…” The words come out slightly harsher than intended, but he doesn’t seem to take it personal, only faking a gasp, his hand pressing over his heart to try to trick you into feeling guilty. You don’t, not even a little. “Oh honey, how can you be so mean to me?” He almost whines, pouty lips on display, his eyes almost glazing over with the puppy look he’s mastered at this point.

You know this is just ordinary messing around, he’s always poking and prodding you with his words, but something about his suggestion has shifted something inside you. Maybe it’s the thought that he thinks you’re in love with him which…quite frankly, is insane…right? Maybe it’s the way his rhetorics make you want to slap that grin off his face…or maybe, just maybe, instead of slapping you’d like to try a kiss first.

Instead of staring at his stupid brown eyes, you decide to busy yourself with the bowl of caramel popcorn, picking a handful. The taste melts on your tongue which brings you some sort of serenity for a few moments.

The idea which sparks into your head is not appropriate, far from it. What has got you thinking about kissing him again you think you’ll never know, but maybe that’s just the answer. A simple kiss to prove that whatever assumptions he has about your feelings are completely and utterly absurd.

So, you can blame him for pushing it, or you can blame yourself for being so stubborn about proving him wrong. Either way, it brings you back to his shocked face, the words already uttered and too late to be taken back without implying some sort of fear that his suggestion might be true after all. The long and awkward silence almost makes you jab him with a few teasing words, but the way he seems to be a bit shellshocked for the better part of a minute has you keeping it to yourself.

“Kiss you? As in, for real?” You smile, amused by his tone as you nod, the thought brings some butterflies into your stomach but you just assume it’s nerves from having to kiss your best friend. “I’m serious— right here, right now. To get that stupid idea out of your head.” You explain as if it’s the sanest and most logical explanation for this. “It’ll prove we’re not capable of being attracted to one another and that nothing will ever happen between us.”

Steve, after seemingly coming out of his momentarily catatonic state, has already masked his shocked expression and covered it up with that smile you know so well. Shifting to face you on the couch, one leg underneath himself, he seems to be contemplating this before he runs a hand through his hair. “Makes sense.” That’s the conclusion he seems to arrive at as he scoots closer to you on the couch.

The room is still mostly covered by darkness, which makes it harder to see his facial expressions and how his eyes dip to your lips briefly, as if already setting his target on them. His arm is laid over the back of the couch, coming to a stop in front of you once his knee bumps your ankles, making you change your position as you cross your legs and face him too. It doesn’t feel as intimate as the moments before a first kiss should feel, but once again, he’s your best friend…nothing more.

“Wait…” His voice comes out laced with concern, brows pulling together slightly. “Are you sure you won’t fall in love?” Steve asks and you can’t help but let out the breath you’ve been holding up until now, your hand smacking his bicep still settled on the back of the couch. “Oh I'll be fine, not so sure about you though.” Now it’s his time to roll his eyes though you notice the way his lips curl up and his bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a brief moment.

“Alright, Casanova, could you just get to it?” He nods and adjusts his position, not really sure how he needs to approach this. The hand settled in his lap skirts up over your arm, ultimately finding its place on your chin. The way he holds it so gingerly between his thumb and index makes you feel that there’s this sort of nervousness in him just the way it’s in you too. But this is just a kiss to prove him wrong, nothing else.

His eyes find yours and then he’s leaning in, waiting for your reaction, waiting to be shoved away or chided for actually trying to kiss you, but the closer he gets it dawns on him that you want— no, need this to prove him wrong. It bothers him slightly to know you’ll go as far as kissing him to prove that you’re not in love with him and never will be, but he can’t help the sudden thought which pops into his mind, uninvited.

Pulling back slightly to put some distance between your faces again, your eyes narrow curiously, a tinge of annoyance on your features too. “This won’t make it awkward between us, right?” His question makes you sigh, wondering if this whole thing is really a good idea or if it’s just going to make things worse. The last thing you need is to lose your best friend over some stupid rom-com.

“No, Steve, it won’t change anything between us because it doesn’t mean anything.” You assure him, finding it in you to be understanding of his worries. He nods, accepting that it’ll be done and you’ll never speak of it again.

He’s getting into position again, more shuffling and scruffing over the couch as you find a way to rest your legs against one another comfortably. Steve’s hand lifts to your chin again, keeping hold of it softly as he takes one last look at you, starting his approach again. You don’t feel the nerves anymore, truthfully you don’t feel anything, further proving your point that you don’t have any feelings towards him.

You let your eyes fall shut, expecting his kiss as you breach your hand on his knee, not feeling his breath hitch the slightest bit at your touch. It’s so brief that you almost miss it. A chaste peck which only meets your lips for a second. Your eyes open once his hand pulls away and clears his throat, not saying anything.

You should be happy that you felt absolutely nothing during the kiss, yet it still leaves you with a sort of empty, unsatisfied feeling in your chest. You dare to look at him again, a few beats passing before you notice the soft blush dusting his cheeks, though it might as well be the light from the TV.

“See? Nothing.” You press your hands to your thighs, subtly drying them against the material of your sweats as he seemingly agrees with you. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you gaze forwards before your mouth opens again. “You know, that wasn’t really a kiss. Like, a proper kiss.” You twitch your nose as you don’t dare look at him.

“Mhm, yeah…” His bottom lip is stuck between his teeth, the plush flesh catching your interest as it falls freely back into its place. “You’re totally right, we should probably try again.” The thinking process seems to be logical, as if the possibility of looking for another excuse to kiss each other is not even on the table right now. Just two friends making sure they’re not in love, right?

“Okay then, kiss me like you’d kiss Becky, Tina or Amy. Just pretend I’m one of them.” The words make him dizzy. How can he pretend to kiss you like you’re just some girl he wants to spend his night with? You’re so much more than that, though at the same time less. Your connection is too strong to one another, and as if reading his mind, you speak again. “Maybe not like that. But just kiss me like a girl you’re in love with.” His huff comes out with just the right amount of humour.

“I can do that…I think.” His tongue comes out to wet his lips, the way he’s looking at you feels a bit more intimate now. “Get to it then.” You try to joke as you take a deeper breath, his body already close to yours, making it easier for him to reach out.

The way his skin feels on yours when he cups the side of your face should be the first indicator that this kiss is going to be much different from the first. As if reading your thoughts, his thumb swipes over your cheekbone almost tenderly, eyes falling shut in time with one another, you’re left with the darkness of your eyelids, focusing solely on your other senses.

The musky smell of Steve’s slept in clothes and lingering wafts of toothpaste on his breath, the warm encompassing feeling of his palm on your cheek and the low hum of unintelligible voices since the movie is still playing. The tip of his sharp nose is now tracing over the contour of yours, whereas the first time it was merely just a clumsy bump. You refrain a shudder successfully and you let him go on, carrying a sort of curiosity about what King Steve does to these girls to have them in a chokehold.

And then it happens again, that chaste press of lips on lips, though you keep still and lightly press yourself closer. Just as fast as it comes it goes again, making you furrow your brows. “I th—“ The words get swallowed by him as Steve leans in again, more purposeful, carrying more intent.

Something trashes wildly in your stomach, dare you say butterflies as he parts his lips slightly, coaxing you into a slower open mouthed kiss. You don’t mind, letting him take the lead, following his pace, you’re pleasantly surprised when his tongue tries to enter the mix. You welcome it with your own, brushing wetly over one another while his lips seal over yours.

Without realising, you let your hands come up, one hooking against the back of his neck while the other pushes greedily into his hair. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, though you surely get lost in the way he’s treating you like you mean something more to him. The way his hands touch you, stroking your cheek and holding your hip, the position is still somewhat awkward and stiff, having to meet in the middle, but you don’t mind it that much.

Clearly he does, having to pull you closer, making you slip into his lap to get more comfortable. Settling on his thighs, your knees dig into the leather of his couch while his head tilts back to reach you better. You’re sure your lips will soon turn numb from his ministrations in which you both seem to get lost, clearly forgetting the whole reason you got into the argument in the first place.

Feeling him up, your hands drift over his shoulders and down to his chest, giving the briefest squeeze on it which has him taking a deeper breath in, making you smile against his lips. You’ve fallen into a rhythm, getting accustomed to one another, but everything freezes in place when you hear him.

Confusion etched into your features, your brows twitch together momentarily. “Did you…moan?” The question seems absurd since you’ve heard it clear as day, you couldn’t have missed the way it made your insides clench, your eyes searching his face as you watch the tips of his ears and his cheeks flush a deep red. “Well we’ve been shoving our tongues down each other’s throats, sorry for getting distracted.” He defends, trying to sound as if it’s your fault, looking away to hide the embarrassed look on his face.

Gazing down at him, you take a breath and shift, unintentionally brushing over his lap, his hands tighten on your hips if it’s any indicator to the torment he’s going through. Your lips out of reach, unsure if you’ll even kiss him again after his slip up, your body nothing but a teasing, heating pressure which would be embarrassing to let affect him. But oh how can he keep it together when you’re set on ruining him?

He thinks you know what you’re doing, not when you stare down at him for a brief moment, giving him the idea that you do want him, not when you shift over his lap, and not even when you breach your hands on his shoulders and push him to lay back again, but when your lips press against his for a third time which has his mind rebooting, trying to keep up with the pace you’re setting.

The idea that this was supposed to be just a kiss is now forgotten, the only thing that seems to matter now is kissing his best friend like she’s a girl he’s in love with. Surprisingly, he doesn’t even find it that hard to do, though he doesn’t have the faintest idea as to why.

You can’t help but grab hold of his locks again, so silky and soft through your fingers, giving them the slightest tug experimentally. This time when Steve feels it, he doesn’t moan, not even grunt, what he does though is shamelessly grind up against you. You’d stop the kiss to ask him if he’s hard, but it all feels so good, the way he’s encompassing you in his arms, how he shifts the slightest bit down towards your jaw, in search of sensitive skin. Nails digging lightly into the back of his neck, you gasp when his mouth leaves yours properly and latches onto your neck, lost in the bliss of it all, you grind down again which is enough to make Steve lose his mind.

“Fuck, don’t do that,” His breath sounds strained. “can’t take it—“ His murmur is a rumble against your skin, your whole body warming up at the idea that your best friend can’t contain himself after a simple kiss. Your thighs try to squeeze together at the sound of his voice, instead, squeezing his hips.

Heart drumming, you feel his lips finish up the work on your skin and it doesn’t hit you that it’ll leave a mark, you’re too preoccupied with the way his hands help you grind over his lap to notice. There’s a fire growing between both of you, low and slow, simmering dangerously close.

There’s sudden silence, the tape has no doubt ended, leaving you in a way too intimate silence, only filled by the grunts and gasps shared between you. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be letting a simple kiss get the better of you but Steve doesn’t seem to be bothered at all, letting his needs guide him into stealing another greedy kiss.

Getting light headed, unsure if from his passionate kiss or the lack of oxygen, you’re forced to part, a thin string of spit splitting between the two of you as you look at one another, realising just how wrecked and ravished you both look.

His strands are sticking up at odd angles, his lips flushed a deeper red from all the kissing, just enough to match his cheeks. The collar of his shirt is stretched out a bit, showing a part of his collarbone from where you’d fisted his shirt. The way he’s looking up at you makes it seem like he’s begging for more, his body certainly is with the way he’s still pressing between your thighs, feeling that he’s fighting to contain himself for the sake of the dignity he has left.

Forcing down the lump in your throat with a harsh swallow, you force yourself to move off of him, sliding next to him onto the couch. Settling your hands in your lap, you toy with your fingers, gazing up at the ceiling as he does the same, waiting in silence until your breathing slows down and your mind is a bit more clear.

“You’re a nice kisser,” You mumble the compliment. Calling it nice would be a gross understatement but that’s all you can manage at the moment. Two, Three beats pass before he conjures up a response. “Thanks, you too…nice,”

“Great, um…I guess we proved my point.” Only now remembering what got you in this mess in the first place, you blink and look for your glass of water before you take a sip, the room temperature liquid feeling cold as you drink.

Stubborn.

That’s exactly what you are. It’s been three days since you and Steve broke the dam and started a metaphorical flood of thoughts and feelings. You haven’t seen him since, not that you’re looking forward to the awkward silence and new weird dynamic. Some part of you wishes you’d just accepted the defeat without having to prove anything, while the other can’t help but think back to that kiss, maybe the best one of your life.

It’s on Saturday night that Robin calls and invites you over for a movie night. Just the mere thought of it has your blood warming up, but you can’t let him keep you away from your shared friend group. You’ll just have to…ignore him.

Easier said than done.

You rode with Eddie, he never has a problem with picking you up, but he does give you a strange look when you hop in his van as if to say ‘Where’s Harrington?’ Since the two of you always come together, wherever you go, he’s there and vice versa.

With a hammering heart, you let yourself in as you always do and greet Robin with a smile, subtly looking over her shoulder as she speaks, trying to see if he’s already here. Snapping back to the conversation, you follow her to the couch as she rambles off about whatever tape she ‘borrowed’ from Family Video, though it always ends up thrown somewhere in her room, gathering dust.

Settling in the middle of the couch, You watch as Robin takes a seat next to you, telling Eddie to prepare the tape and bring the bowls of snacks over. Finally settling into the familiar energy, you laugh, entertaining Robin’s absurd thoughts and jokes, but soon enough it’s interrupted as the door opens and closes again, Eddie’s still occupying his usual armchair so it can’t by anyone else than him…

Clammy hands drying on your thighs, you look back as his voice comes out, greeting the three of you as he apologises for being late. You know him, and you’d be inclined to say that you do it best, but looking at him right now, you can’t seem to be able to read him anymore. All you can see is those big hands that grabbed and squeezed at you, those walnut strands which you tugged at, pulling the prettiest of sounds from him, and those eyes…oh how you’re lost in them until Robin boops the tip of your nose, flushing in embarrassment as you pretend they didn’t catch you staring with heart eyes at your best friend.

“Okay, come on, let's watch this already.” You huff, as if you’re impatient to see the movie, but in reality, you’re only thinking about the lights being dimmed so the blush on your cheeks won’t be on full display anymore. You’re cursed with having to squeeze into Robin’s two person couch with her and Steve, each of them pressing closely into your sides, Steve’s arm laying over the back of the couch.

The movie isn’t great, not even close to what Robin’s promised it to be. Proof of that is Eddie drooling on himself as he sleeps peacefully in the armchair, and Robin’s head pressing against your shoulder as she rests with soft snores coming out of her. You wonder how you’re still awake yourself, but the heat radiating off Steve’s body is enough to keep you alert for almost an hour.

“Should we turn this off?” He asks as he gazes at the screen with a sort of bored confusion on his face. You nod and watch him as he gets up, using the opportunity to let Robin lay comfortably on the couch as you slip away from the living room and find yourself walking away, moving towards the bathroom but before you can lock yourself there, you hear his voice.

“Can we talk?” His question seems to slip out like he doesn’t want to go through the conversation either, but it’s eating him up, having to keep his distance from you. Telling yourself it’ll be okay, you turn on your heel and nod, heading to Robin’s room as he follows closely.

Once the door is closed, leaving the two of you alone, you dare to lift your gaze, swallowing thickly while he seems to be looking for the right words. “Did I make things awkward between us? You know, like after we uh— made out?”

“No…no, it’s just, It’s fine…really.” You rush to assure him, he doesn’t believe it one bit, your voice wavers as he steps closer and tilts his head with a concerned furrow in his brows. “Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like that, you can barely look at me and you haven’t called to spend the night in like………forever.” He argues, knowing you always have sleepovers, especially now in the summer.

“Steve, it’s been four days…” You smile lightly as you correct him, seemingly overestimating for how long you’ve been apart, though for him it surely feels like a drawn out eternity meant to make him suffer in your absence. “Exactly!” He huffs as if you can’t seem to understand just how much he’s missed you.

He’s got you, it’s a curse that he knows you this well. Maybe you can’t lie your way out of this, not when he’s watching you like a hawk, trying to find the source of the problem as always. He hates to see you upset, even more so when he knows it might be his fault.

“C’mon, when did you stop telling me what’s bothering you?” The way his tone seems to be a bit hurt makes you look at him, now he’s much closer, his hand reaching for yours as he tugs you gently towards him. You’re not sure you can say anything that will justify your actions, so you don’t. Gazing down at the way his hand swallows yours up completely, your chest swarms with butterflies as he toys with your fingers gently. Want takes over your mind, clouding your judgement as you gaze up at him, opening your mouth to speak.

Knowing no words will ever compare to what you want to do, you push yourself up on your tiptoes and grab hold of his shoulder, leaning in to connect your lips again just like you did three nights ago. Despite the sudden movement, he doesn’t seem to be too shocked, quick with returning the kiss as his hands settle instinctively on your waist to make sure you stay close.

Giving his shoulder a squeeze, you cup the side of his face with your free hand and lean more into him. Letting him walk you back until you bump into the wall, you sigh into the kiss and pull his head down to reach him better. A fuzzy feeling takes over your brain as you let yourself enjoy the moment, feeling Steve’s wandering hands advance, you cling to him for support and arch, saying his name in a soft whisper.

Letting your hands slide up under his shirt, fingers tracing soft skin, gripping at his strong back as Steve occupies himself with pawing at your thighs and waist.

Your bodies pressing and tangling warmly, finally feeling the freedom to touch him like you’ve always known you wanted deep in your heart, humming softly as he lets a relaxed sigh slip from his lips. Minutes pass before a sudden thump, followed by a grumpy Robin cursing, travels through her small apartment.

You break apart with a groan and bite your lip, gazing at him as he seems to resent the interruption too. “We should get back out there before they realise we’re missing.” He knows you’re right, but the way you look like you hate the idea, carrying that soft pout on your lips which has his heart melting makes him dip his head to catch your lips in another kiss, this time softer. “Mhm, in a minute.”

And how can you turn him down when he’s so adamant about kissing you?

#steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #fem reader #steve x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things season four #stranger things fic #⋆⑅˚₊ stevie

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mostly-imagines · 2 months ago

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Who Needs Heaven? : Safe & Sound

jason todd x fem!reader

aka your daughters learn what happened to jason

warnings: nonspecific discussions on how jason died

(1) the drop-in

The sound of water splashing under toy boats and fish fills the small room.

You ring the washcloth out over the suds, Rory’s idle hands scooping up the excess. She entertains herself with the slowly dissolving bubbles between her fingers as you fill up your cup.

“Put your head back,” you tell her, nudging her forehead.

She does, squeezing her eyes shut.

You pour the cup of water over her head, combing through her hair. You refill the cup again as she pipes up.

“Mommy,” she says with a casual lull in her voice.

You pour it out again, making sure to rinse the shampoo at her roots, “Hm?”

Her hand comes up to wipe the stream from off her forehead, “How did daddy get that scar?”

“Well, daddy has lots of scars,” you say carefully. “You know that.”

She shakes her head, “Littler scars. He has a big one though, right here.”

She points up and down her torso.

“What happened?”

You take a breath, eyes focused on the dissolving suds. “What happened…”

She continues on, “He said scars come from when you get hurt and the bigger ones are bigger hurts. How did he get such a big hurt?”

“Um...” She’s quite young to hear that story, especially coming from you. Your older daughters have an awareness of what happened, though it’s never been formally discussed. You think Mia knows what the autopsy scar is and the twins definitely know he died at the very least. You’ve been made aware that there’s been…discussions at school about who their dad is and how he one day died and then years later magically reappeared. You and Jason had decided that you would talk to them about it eventually, but only when they were old enough to not be completely traumatized hearing it.

You just hadn’t assumed that day would creep up on you like this.

You sit back, tense. “Did you ask him that?”

“No…” she says gravely. “I don’t wanna make him sad.”

You nod, trying to collect your thoughts. How can you steer away from this without attracting more questions?

“Do you know what happened?” she asks, scanning your face.

You do your best to reset your expression to neutral.

You start without really knowing where the sentence is going, “We…we can talk about it later…”

Rory tilts her head, “Not now?”

You shake yours, “Not right now.”

That’s enough to appease her curiosity for the rest of the bath, but you know with that one, it won’t last long.

You’d gotten her dressed and sent her on her way, but your mind stayed heavy the whole time.

You walk downstairs slowly, hands still damp from the bath. As you turn the corner from the stairs you find Jason, reading contentedly by himself in the living room.

You cross the room without hesitation, climbing into the spot next to him on the couch. He doesn’t need to look up, only adjusts the position of his arm so its draped over you, pulling you into his side.

“So…” you start, “Rory was asking about your scar..”

He turns away from the book, looking at you with serious eyes. “What did she say?”

“She wants to know how you got it,” you tell him. “I didn’t tell her, but she didn’t want to ask you either.”

“Why not?” He asks quickly, face brimming with anxiety.

You shake your head, calming his worries. “She said she didn’t want to make you sad.”

He relaxes a bit at that, taking in the information.

You break the silence after a minute, quietly telling him, “I think it might be time to talk about it.”

He looks dejected, eyes on the floor. “They’re still little..”

“I’m not saying tell them everything right now, just…acknowledge it.”

“I don’t—” He sighs, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell them that.”

You think for a moment, nodding.

“Tell them how you told me. Just…more kid words.”

He still looks resigned at the idea so you continue, “You know how to talk to them. Just tell them what you want them to hear. They’ll listen.”

He nods, eyes low. “Okay…”

You stand up, and he grabs your hand as you rise, pulling himself up too.

You give each other one more confirming look before calling up the stairs, “Girls? Come here.”

There’s a ten second delay before a scuttle of footsteps starts down the staircase, arriving with a low-liveliness, nearly bedtime energy amongst them.

The second you’re within sight of them, they’re keen that something’s not right.

“What’s going on?”

“Is—”

“Everything’s alright. Nothing’s wrong,” you tell them. “We just want to talk to you for a minute.”

Your words don’t do much to ease their minds, but after a moment they slowly gather onto a single couch. They’re all squished in together and Rory’s half on top of Anna and Laine, the latter of which can barely move. Still, there’s no complaints to be heard, only an air of seriousness throughout the room.

Jason clears his throat, though he has trouble looking at them, the easier option seeming to be the carpeted floor.

“Alright,” he starts with a deep breath. “So my, uh, my Y scar…”

The air in the room drops the second the words are out, the girls all quiet and listening closely. You can tell this is something they’d been wondering about for a long time.

“When I was younger and I’d just started doing the, uh, special job my brothers and Bruce do…” He takes another breath, “Some things happened that shouldn’t have and I got hurt..”

“What things?” Ryan asks.

“I…I got tricked by a bad guy and…I just got hurt.”

It’s uncharacteristic for the girls to all look so dejected and serious like this. Goes to show that you were right—they do have an understanding of what happened.

Anna is the first to pipe up.

“Did you die?”

“Anna—”

“It’s alright,” Jason interrupts. He collects himself before eking out, “Um…yeah, I-I did.”

He’s still stuck on those words and you have to silently push for him to keep talking, so as to not give their imaginations time to run wild.

He takes the hint, stuttering, “But, um, it’s complicated, but I came back and—”

Laine interrupts this time, almost teary-eyed.

“Are you going to die again?”

Jason shakes his head quickly, “No. No, honey, not for a long time.”

It’s quiet for a moment as they process, sorting through the details into something their minds can understand.

Rory looks on edge, wide-eyed, as she asks, “Are you a ghost?”

“No, sweetheart,” Jason answers calmly with a shake of his head.

That seems to calm her anxiety more than anything else.

“Are you better now?” Laine asks.

Jason nods, “Yeah, I’m a lot better now.”

Ryan looks skeptical at the choice of words. “How did you…get better?”

He takes a shaky breath, “Well…your mommy helped me a lot. And then you helped me some more. And now…now I’m all healed.”

None of them seem to really understand, but they accept the answer anyways.

The next question is from Anna.

“Is the bad guy in jail now?”

Jason only momentarily stutters in his response, but pulls it together nicely.

“It’s not something you need to be worried about. I promise. Nothing like that’s going to happen again to me or you or anyone.”

This appears to appease most of the concerns flying around in their heads.

He continues, “We can talk about it more when you get older, but…

You take the queue, nodding Rory and Lainey your way.

“Let’s go get ready for bed, okay?”

You nudge the younger two upstairs, who, to your surprise, go without resistance.

You give Jason one last glance before heading up the stairs, happy to see him much more relaxed than he was at the start of this conversation.

He’s left downstairs with his eldest three girls, each nearly bursting at the seams full of their thoughts and questions.

Jason thumps down on the couch between them, a heavy breath following.

The trio watch him quietly for a moment before Anna speaks.

“I know what it is,” she tells him somberly. He looks at her with more melancholia than he would’ve hoped for.

She continues, “There’s autopsies on my show sometimes.”

Right, her show. The X-Files.

Jason nods, a bit remiss at the idea that she knows.

From his other side, Ryan pipes up.

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head, “No, I-I wasn’t…”

Wasn’t alive. He doesn’t want to say that, though.

Ryan nods, understanding anyways. “Did it hurt when you died?”

He hesitates before answering, wavering between lying to protect their minds and telling them the truth. In the end, he decides that you’re right, they can handle it in small measures.

“Yeah. It did, a little,” he confesses. ”But like I said, that’s not going to happen again.”

From behind Ryan, Mia speaks so softly Jason almost misses her words.

“I’m sorry.”

He looks at her, brow furrowed. “For what?”

“That that happened to you,” she says. Her eyes are filled with an equal sadness to his and it breaks his heart. Even more so that her words are so clearly meant sincerely.

“Oh.”

It’s all he can manage to say.

He was only a little older than Mia when his life had been taken away from him and he’d been forced to reset everything he ever knew. And now, all these years later, he sits here surrounded by his children, his world that he was given a second chance to create. His children that don’t see a monster when they look at him, don’t see the scarred giant that he sees. They just see their dad.

When they were still young they’d started getting almost excited whenever they got a scar from playing too hard because it made them more like him. It took Jason years to just bear the thought of his scars, but his girls look at them like art. Even when they know he got them in bad ways, they pour out nothing but affection. No disgust, no fear, no hate. Just love.

His eyes close and his face falls in his hands, overwhelmed by the idea of his children being such angels, despite being products of him.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

He nods, face still covered. His voice is muffled as he says, “Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart, I just, um…”

His words die off with little fight, and when his hands drop his eyes are red.

Anna, who’s usually compulsed to only touch emotion with a ten-foot pole, is the first to wrap her arms around him, holding him tight. The gesture takes him by surprise, especially from her, and he tenses briefly before deflating like a balloon. Mia and Ryan are quick to follow suit, basically dog-piling over his opposite shoulder.

“It’s okay, dad. We love you. And your scars,” Ryan tells him.

Oh, they think he’s sad.

Hell, thirteen years ago he would’ve thought he was sad. He only started to understand his feelings after his first daughter was born. He doesn’t tell them he’s not sad, doesn’t tell them that he’s crying because life slapped him around and then gave him everything he could ever want five times over.

Instead, he just nods, pulling them impossibly closer.

who’s your fav daughter

#jason todd loves his daughters #jason todd loves his gf #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd imagine #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd thoughts #red hood/you #red hood x you #red hood/reader #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #red hood x y/n

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myfeetrcolddd · 7 months ago

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Boundaries? Never heard of them.

Growing up with Theo had desensitized you to things, like how he was always holding your hand, or how he insisted on cuddling anytime you were to sit down on a couch together, or how he would kiss you on the cheek hello or goodbye, except the kiss was hardly on your cheek and right at the corner of your mouth.

Sure, you were aware how the relationship between the two of you was not the average one of two best friends, but you didn't really mind it. You had gotten used to it, it felt weird to even think about things between the both of you being any different.

It was only when Theo got a girlfriend did you realize things would have to change, much to your dismay, and to Theo's too apparently.

"What'd you mean I can't hold your hand anymore?" Theodore looked taken nearly offended as he said those words, his face twisting in confusion and distaste.

"Theo, you have a girlfriend now." You say, wrapping your arms around your middle uncomfortably. "We can't just hold hands all the time, or at all."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Next thing I know you're going to tell me we can't cuddle during movie nights or when I sleep over."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you!" You exclaim, tired from having to reiterate the same thing over and over. "And from now on we shouldn't even be sleeping in the same bed at sleep overs, if your girlfriend would even be comfortable with us having sleepovers"

"You're being ridiculous, Angel, I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"I'm being serious, Theo, I'm setting boundaries now that you've got a girlfriend, and another thing on that list is calling me Angel." Theodore frowned harder(if that was even possible) looking taken aback by your words and down right offended.

"Boundaries? Not calling you a name I've called you since we were kids?" Theo took a step closer, which was really a problem since he had already been to close to begin with. Now he towered over you more than usual, bringing his hands up he rested them on your neck, his thumbs coming up over your jaw as he held your face close to his. His eyes were narrowed and scanning your face as though looking for something, "Has someone casted a charm on you? Maybe some potion. Either way, you're being weird and I don't like it."

"I'm being weird?! I'm not being weird!" You insisted, and you knew you should shove his hands off you, push him away or take a step back...but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You'd always liked his touch much more than a friend should. "Y-you're the weird one! Thinking we could continue as we are while you have a girlfriend."

"Why would we change anything?" He asked, as though he was truly confused. "I like the way things are between us."

"Well I can't imagine your girlfriend likes the way things are. I'm sure that if I had a boyfriend he wouldn't like how things are." You had mumbled the last part under your breath, an after thought to your previous sentence, still Theo heard it and his confusion and annoyance turned to something darker.

"Boyfriend?" He questioned, his voice low and more gravely that usual. "What's you having a boyfriend got to do with anything? You, you don't have one do you? No boy here is good enough for you, and I wouldn't change my ways for some sleaze like him."

Theos words had been harsh, a sharp edge to them as he spoke, he'd never spoken like that before, at least not to you. It was odd, he seemed mad at the thought of you having a boyfriend, outraged even, the emotions just simmering beneath the surface.

"No, Theo, I don't have a boyfriend," He looked to deflate a little at this, relaxing slightly, "It's not like I could have gotten one anyway, everyone thought we were dating from the way we acted, and it didn't help that you practically growled at any guy that would try to come up to me." You scoff, annoyed but Theo seemed the opposite, his lips quirking up in a small smirk.

"Was that so bad though? It's not like any of them were good enough for your attention anyways." His hands slid from your neck down to your waist as he seemed to pull you closer.

"Look, we're getting off track. We need to set some boundaries." You press your hands against his chest and push him off you gently, he seems to allow this and walks back a few steps before taking a seat on the edge of your bed and staring up at you. You blushed slightly from the way he was looking at you.

Theo groaned and rolled his eyes, "I still don't see why we need those."

"Because you have a girlfriend for crying out loud!" You say, exasperated form having to repeat yourself, "How would you feel if your girlfriend, the girl you like, had a friend that was overly touchy and clingy and borderline cheating on you with him?"

This seemed to stump him, "The girl I like?" He muttered to himself, then his eyes trailed back to you and his jaw clenched. "No...no I wouldn't like that at all."

"See! That's what I mean. That's likely what your girlfriend is feeling about how we are with each other." But Theo didn't seem like he was really listening at this point.

Inside his head, a switch had flipped for him and he realized something. His eyes widening, lips parting, and cheeks heating up slightly and he turned to look up at you through his eye lashes.

"Shit." He murmured, staring at you and his pupils seemed to dilate. It was like he was seeing you in a whole new light, you were as beautiful as you ever were, the same angel he thought you were all those years ago, but now he realized it was so much more than looked with you. And he was stupid to think this was how best friends were with each other.

Really, could he be any more daft? Standing up, he stalked towards you, like a predator hunting it's prey. He didn't stop until he was closer than before, his hands cradling your head on each side and pulling you close.

His face was right above yours, your noses nearly touching and your breaths mingling. "I'm an idiot." He muttered, his eyes getting lost in yours. "A stupid and blind idiot." His forehead dropped down to yours and he closed his eyes. "And I'm sorry."

Before you could register what was going on his lips were on yours, his hands holding your head tightly against his as he kissed you. You had tried your best not to give in, but you couldn't help yourself because it was the one boy you had liked all your life, finally kissing you, and like his life depended on it at that.

So, you kissed him back, arms twining around his neck and bringing him impossibly closer. One of your hands threaded through the hair on the back of his head and you gripped it tightly and he groaned before kissing you harder.

Then, as fast as it had begun, it ended. He pulled away, cheeks blotchy and red and pupils so big you could hardly see the blue green color of his eyes. "I'm going to fix this. Then I'll be right back." He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, "Don't leave." And then another kiss and then he was gone, your dorm door slamming shut behind him as you stood in stunned silence.

A hand lifted to your face and I gently touched your lips, you were sure you looked like a tomato, and your mind was reeling. That wasn't how things were supposed to go...at all.

#imagine #theodore nott #not edited #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #hogwarts #harry potter #hp fanfic #fanfic

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docdudo · 3 months ago

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Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 5)

You were never one to complain. Living in the foster system means accepting all kinds of shit that comes with being an orphan in a stranger's house.

You almost never received any presents. It was rare the times you did get something at your placements, but if you did, it was a hand me down. Like the thin blue jacket you came wearing, that was a present from a divorced mother who kids were already too big for the jacket. Or the white dress that a christian family gave to you so you could go to church with them 'dressed appropriately'.

Well, you couldn't complain about that one. The simple white dress is to this day your 'fanciest' piece of clothing.

You wouldn't say you were that much of a picky eater either, but you certainly didn't like all kinds of food... which is pratically torture in the system. You just learned to push all kinds of food down your throat quietly, and if it was truly too bad for you to manage? You would simply come up with a weak excuse and run away from the food.

Being any kind of picky eater in the system was torture. Even worse if you have allergies. You knew a boy at your last group home that was allergic to glutten and peanuts, and he was basically as thin as you were. He was still bigger, being a cat hybrid and all, but at least you knew you weren't the only one suffering at these houses.

So imagine your surprise when John, the big dragon hybrid, spend his whole morning gently coaxing you to go shopping with him and Simon, to get 'things you might need', and 'snacks you might like to eat', and even 'go grab lunch at the mall'.

At first, you were too nervous and anxious to say anything, mostly just staring back at him as you fidgeted quietly in place. It took Johnny joining the conversation excitedly, Kyle sending you stupid thumbs up quietly from the living room couch, and Simon picking up the keys to their car while looking at you expectantly for you to finally agree to go with them.

So here you were, walking between two giants of men at a big and loaded shopping center, nervously trying to keep your pace matched up to theirs as Simon made sure to keep a hand enveloped tightly around your much smaller hand.

Worse of all? A lot of people were looking your way. Big hybrids like Price and Ghost weren't unnusual, but the small little human holding their hand surely was. Not only human, but a human under the care of hybrids. You wanted to burry your head in a deep hole and never come out.

"Darlin'." John's deep and purred voice called your attention immediatly as you looked up at him quietly. "Don't try and wander off, understood?"

You nod quietly, slightly intimidated by his tone and serious face.

"Good baby." He purrs out, giant hand coming down on your head as he messes slightly with the small strands there. "Now, sweetness, let's buy you some things."

"I... I really d-don't need anything..." You murmur quietly, a bit anxious about them wasting money on you.

Both of them looked at you with those serious expressions for a few seconds, considering you. John smiled slightly as he compromised, lifting both hands up.

"Then let's look around, if we find something, then that's good." His laugh is deep, slow and rough. It's clear the smoke from his dragon side had some effect on his throat. That, and he probably smoked cigars and cigarettes too.

You just nodded quietly, not willing to go against his word, as you three kept walking around. That is, until Simon grunted, fixing the surgical mask on his face and looking down like he was thinking of something.

".......what...?" You murmur softly, confused.

"I think you're breaking Simon's back, hun." John laughed deeply, shaking his head slightly.

"W-Wha...?"

"You're too small for me to hold your hand confortably." The wraith deadpanned. "Stay still."

"W-Wait, wh- Aah!"

You were stunned for a second, as you were suddenly held high up. Big, thick arms held your legs easily, making you sit in the crook of his elbow, as he held you to his side like a toddler. It was enough to shut your little squeak of surprise as you were just in shock now.

"Simon, I told you to be gentle." The dragon smirked slightly, tho his voice a bit more rough than usual as it seems to always have an edge of a growl on it.

"I am." The wraith grunted quietly as he started to walk once again. "This is the best option for the both of us. Right, luv?"

"A-Ah... I..." You were too flustered to properly say anything, but you still nodded your head slowly, trying to settle on his arms.

"See?" Simon smirked under his mask to John, as the older man simply rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

"Say, darlin'. Do you like ice cream?" John offers out of nowhere as he smiles confidently, ignoring Simon's remark.

".....some flavors, yeah..." You mumble back, a little arm holding on Simon's shoulder as you looked around quietly, trying to ignore other people's looks.

"What's your favorite?" He asks easily, taking a different path as Simon followed close behind.

"...Vanilla is good..."

"Good, then vanilla is what you're gonna get." He answers simply, with the confidance you don't think you have ever seen on anyone else.

"...it's... it's really okay if you don't..." You try quietly, only to see him shaking his head slowly, looking over his shoulder that didn't have the wing, expression serious and stoic as his rough voice murmured.

"I provide to my hoard, little hatchling. It would do you good to remember that."

Those words, spoken in that way, was enough to immediatly shut you up, your body instinctively curling on itself (more on Simon really) at the sigh of an intimidating predator.

Tho, Simon didn't let you suffer in your fear and anxiety, as his big and wide palm settled on your small back, pulling you closer to his chest for confort as he was speaking, slow and quiet, even if his voice always sounded rough.

"Price's not mad, fledgling. Stay calm. He's not mad, much less mad at you. He's just a protective bastard." He snorted quietly, bouncing you a little on his arms to help you calm down.

"Watch it, Riley." Price mumbled, tho he had a small smile on his face as he slowed his pace a bit to stand by you and Simon, big hand now being placed on your upper back, which was a slightly shock due to how warm it felt. Simon was wearing gloves, but he felt much cooler. "And i'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare you."

He was also doing that subtle baby voice, keeping his voice much quieter as he leaned in and gently nudged half of his face against yours, making you freeze a bit at the action. It really felt like a big animal was trying to be apologetic.

"If Kyle was here, you would've gotten an ear full." Simon commented simply as he watched, amused.

"Thank god he isn't." John huffs a little, stepping back. "I don't need mother hen scolding me for this. I didn't even growl." And now, he was leaning slightly closer again, that quiet and gentle tone coming back as he looked at your small, nervous face. "I'm not that scary, am I, darlin'?"

"'Course you are, for a small little thing like this?" Simon laughs roughly, shaking his head, his grip in you getting firmer.

"I-I'm not scared..." You mumble quietly, playing a bit with the sweater that they lent it to you yesterday, not making eye contact with either of them.

"Of course not, darlin'..." John cooed deeply, tho his tone made it clear that he wasn't taking your answer seriously, rubbing your head gently. "Come on."

In the end, they got you a vanilla ice cream on a big cone, that you were licking it quietly. They were speaking with eachother as they planned what next things to buy, and what stores to visit. You weren't paying that much attention, just focusing on your vanilla ice cream as Simon carried you around.

You got used to him carrying you, and now, you were much more confortable on his hold.

"Baby, look here." John's voice once again called your attention as you lifted your head from the ice cream to stare at him. "What do you think of this blanket?"

You tilted your head to the side, slightly confused, but you reached for the soft blanket he brough close, feeling the fuzzy, confortable texture.

"It's... good." You mumble, unsure about what to say.

"Just good?" John asked, considering your answer, looking between you and the blanket, before putting it back in place. "Let's see others, then."

You were not entirely sure what John was trying to do. Maybe buy you a blanket, but... you already had lots of blankets on the bed they gave you. And on the weird nest on the middle too.

Still, you got distracted once again with the ice cream in your tiny hold, going back to licking it. You were already getting a bit full... you were never the biggest fan of ice cream, you got tired of it fast. So, as you looked quietly to the side to stare at Simon's face, you gently brought the cone close to his face, making him look at you passively.

"Do you want a bit...?" You mumble softly, only to see the man pushing his surgical mask to his chin and taking a big bite out of the ice cream you were holding in front of his face.

You managed to see his scary, pointy and large teeth, the slightly too long and sharp tongue at the action, making you instinctively shudder on his hold. It was natural, a human watching their predator showing their dangerous teeth like it was nothing. Still, you were thankful for his help.

"Oww...." You turned a bit alarmed to John's direction as you heard the dragon's deep croon, his eyes getting half-lidded and pupils dilating. "Always soft for the hatchlings, aren't you, Simon?"

Simon just hums, swallowing the ice cream and licking his lips simply, keeping his serious expression.

"I'm used to being the kids' trashcan." He... joked? You were not sure, since he kept his face and tone so stony, but by John's laugh, you deduced it was a joke.

"Here, hun, how does this blanket feel?" John asks as he brings another fuzzy blanket close, light blue and full of colorful little dots.

"Good... confortable..." You mumble, feeling the material.

"Hmmm...." John considered once again, humming as he squinted his eyes.

"John, you know humans don't nest. She's not going to have hard instincts towards blankets." Simon comments, almost bored as te took another bite of your almost finished ice cream.

"I know, it's just... different to see it." John nods slightly before shrugging. "Do you like this color, little one?"

You just nod quietly, now understanding a bit more what was going on. Indeed, you shouldn't expect nesting instincts from a human, but even you could tell when the blanket was confortable and made from a good material.

"Come on, doll. Let's see what else we can find for you before having lunch." John mumbles softly, leaning close once again, quickly kissing Simon on the lips, who kissed back easily, and then kissing you on the forehead gently.

They were... very nice. Even if a bit scary.

Part 4 / Part 6

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iclarye · 1 year ago

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Good Looking

pairing: opla!sanji x reader

summary: your plan was quick and simple. you would go to the kitchen, make some tea to ease your headache, and then return to your comfy bed. you weren't expecting to come across your crew's blonde cook barechested cutting carrots.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ content, smut, swearing, pet names, kitchen sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, cunnilingus, semi public sex, PIV

authors note: english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes. read this fanfic on ao3: good looking. enjoy!

You are used to this. The utterly exhausted sensation after several hand-to-hand combats, so when the headache started when you finally lay down in bed, you just decided to ignore it; the sleep would catch up before it got.

Until the needed sleep never got you. So, after an hour or two of rubbing your temples and staring at the ceiling while feeling envy-induced annoyance for Nami’s peaceful breathing, you pushed yourself to stand up.

Even if the cool night air almost makes you wish you hadn't left your warm bed, you needed that green tea to stop the pounding headache in the back of your head. The kitchen lights shining through the window went undetected as your mind was busy figuring out how you could prepare the drink quickly so that the pain could cease as soon as possible.

“Oh, it’s you, darling. Is everything alright?” As you walked into the door and recognized Sanji's words, you snapped out of your thoughts and began to look over your surroundings. He was not wearing any type of shirt while he sliced carrots from behind the counter.

Barechested. Topless. Half naked.

“Y-yes, I mean, no. Just a headache.” You gaze the blonde in the eyes as you stumble through your sentences, you are merely vaguely aware that your face is beginning to turn red. “I just want that green tea, I know it's somewhere around here. I saw Nami storing it in the cabinets earlier.”

You felt foolish. You became used to seeing shirtless men given that you lived in the middle of the ocean and therefore often came across Luffy, Usopp, and even Zoro barechested. They would often walk around the deck that way on hot days. Sanji, however, always showed up in a suit or, at the very least, had a formal shirt rolled up to his elbows. Even so, there was no chance of seeing him dressed otherwise since he went to sleep after you and woke up before everyone.

“I can do it for you, it’s my job after all, taking care of my sweet girl.” He placed the knife down, threw the chopped carrots in a nearby pot, and proceeded to go through the cupboards. “Love, do you remember where she stored it? There are plenty of cabinets in this place.”

"What are you doing here?" You instantly regret your tone as you noted Sanji just froze in his search.

“I mean, sorry, the kitchen is your place, I know. I just never saw you here this hour, and me and Luffy go here to do midnight snacks sometimes”

“I could not sleep”

“Me too” Once again, an irrational remark. He was informed that you were having trouble falling asleep, that's why you were there. “Why the carrots?”

“The attack that happened today. I had hoped for more food, but I believe you are aware of how fucked our situation is.” He continued looking for the tea while chuckling flatly. “We don't know when we will receive more supplies; we right now have barely anything stocked. Even the carrot peels have been put to use in an effort to reduce waste, you know.”

You weren't sure how to respond. It was clear that everyone's mood was negatively affected by today's incident. The worry of what would happen in the next few days or weeks was filling your head since Usopp managed to escape the ship. His back was to you, so you were unable to see his facial expressions, but you couldn't help but notice his muscles.

You felt a little guilty since you couldn't take your focus away from it, despite him having just voiced some serious concern. Has he lately started working out, or has he always had muscles like that?

“Are you and Luffy close then?”

The sudden break in silence confused you as he turned toward you with the pot of tea in his hands and a pleased smile.

“I suppose so. After all, he was the one who invited me to join the crew, right?” You smirked at the thought. It wasn't much time—perhaps a few months—and you were losing track of time at sea. “I fearlessly agreed to become a pirate, although I had never spent more than two weeks on a boat.”

“I remember that. You were so naive”

Of course he remembers. When you joined the crew, it was very easy to have a conversation with Sanji, he was constantly complimenting you or flirting in a straightforward manner. You never took him seriously, hearing about the blonde's techniques from Nami from the first day, but it was often hard not to chuckle or blush when he was so…

“Not anymore.”

He grinned at you before returning his attention to the tea. It was impossible to look away from his bare chest. You were unable to rest your mind from imagining how his skin would feel on your hand now that he was in your line of sight. You are already aware that he's a good-looking man, but now seeing more of his body did things to you.

“All right, madam. Here is your tea.” He circles the counters until he's right next to you. Really close. His eyes twinkle with recklessness, and you know he caught you staring at his figure.

You ignore the tickle in your lower belly as you stand there, grab the mug in your hands, and sip while gazing at his face. He still has that typical smirk, and when you finally finish drinking your tea, he glances at your lips before returning to your eyes. Everything becomes fuzzy and hot then.

He's very close. His hand has been lying on the counter, his chest is nearly brushing your own, and you can't help but notice his modest, almost transparent blonde hair in there. Perhaps it's a sign for you to walk away, that this is going in a dangerous direction, but you can't.

“What dear? See something you lik-”

You interrupt him with a kiss. It's all very messy and quick, and he is unable to have time to handle everything. You come to an abrupt halt and stare at him with wide eyes, realizing what you have done.

“Sanji, fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant t-”

He didn't let you finish the apologies. His hand pulls your head back, bringing your lips together. The kiss looks right now. It begins carefully, with both sides cautious, but it quickly gets heated as he doesn't hesitate to push his tongue into your mouth.

You’re breathless when he finally pulls away, and his eyes are hungry. He didn't think twice before pressing his open mouth and tongue on your neck. A moan escapes from your lips.

His left hand shifts down to grab your hip, and you catch your breath. Your hands graze his nipples as you reach for his pecs, and he hisses at the fresh sensation in your throat.

“Gods Y/N, you’re going to kill me this way”

You chuckled, and he kissed you again, although this time you took charge, moving one of your hands to his blonde hair before tilting his head to grant you more access. You stop the action just to take a moment to recover and gaze into his dilated pupils. He looks so attractive like that that you can’t help but want to go down on him.

”Sanji,” You whisper breathlessly, enjoying the sensation of his name in your mouth, “let me taste you.”

He groans in response, which you take as encouragement as you lean down and proceed. You lick and kiss the trail that leads to his crotch, and he hisses softly, his abdomen tense beneath your hands and mouth. As you get down on your knees and look at his pants, you can see his erection, which seems big and marked.

You don't hesitate to pull down the waistband of his pants and boxers together, exposing his hard, leaking cock to your eyes. It's big. It's more than you expected. There's a buildup of cum at the head, and you reach forward and wrap your lips around it, licking gently just to tease.

You look up as you swirl your tongue over the tip and dip your tongue into the slit to see him biting his lower lips, his head thrown back. You wanted to see his face while sucking him. So you take him out of your mouth and cautiously wrap a hand around him, teasing him a little with your hand. Your movements are agonizingly slow as you lightly suck and lick the sensitive head until finally he looks down.

“Oh, darling, you’re so pretty like that.” Sanji whined above you, and then your mouth opened around the head of his cock, and he slid it into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck. So… so perfect.”

You can clearly see the blonde struggling to keep his composure, like how his knuckles are white while gripping the counter behind him. You relax your throat, take a long breath through your nose, and exhale slowly before swallowing him whole while gripping his inner thighs.

His penis is large, so the initial sensation isn't the most pleasant, but as he lets out a loud groan, you forget about everything. Something about hearing Sanji whine in the kitchen while you gagged on his cock made the aching between your legs unbearable.

"Oh yeah, You are so good to me. Your mouth feels so good in me.”

You moaned softly at his words of praise, making vibrations around his penis, causing another moan from him. His left hand reached from the counter to your hair, and you didn't reject the help while bobbing your head up and down.

“My love, you are so perfec-“

A few tears occasionally escaped as you sucked him and he fucked your throat, sometimes only taking him out to run your tongue along his length. You started to see signs that he was close to cum. One of your hands left the thighs to rub his balls.

“I… I'm going to cum, Y/N, dear... I" He gives you a chance to pull away from him, but you choose to continue and accept it all. You remove the entire length of his throat and leave just the head in your mouth.

He comes soon after, with a muffled groan, while you attempt to swallow as much as you can before it gets difficult, followed by a satisfied moan coming from you.

You felt his hand leave your hair, and for two or three minutes, you just remained there. He has his head back and is trying to catch his breath while you are on your knees, glancing at his chest and the beads of sweat gathering on his neck. It’s a perfect vision, honestly. You ponder whether he would notice if you began to masturbate right then.

“Come on, madam, let me help you up.” Sanji extends his hand to support you in getting up, and once you are upright, he grabs hold of your waist to keep you close to him.

He kisses you, tasting himself in your mouth. It's slow, and you realize he's still trying to emerge from his afterglow. When he breaks the kiss, that smile returns to his face, and you peck him once more just to get rid of it.

Sanji deepened the kiss again. And fuck, what else could you do but reply in the same aggressive way?

You're hoisted up by the hands on your hips and thrown onto the counter. The blonde is now between your legs, breaking the kiss, only to go straight to that specific spot on your neck that you're almost certain will leave a mark in the morning.

“Oh- Sanji,” You try to speak breathlessly as he licks your collarbone and his fingers brush the hem of your t-shirt, “You don’t h-have to do that.”

It wasn't that you didn't want Sanji. Since you entered that kitchen and spotted him without a shirt, you wanted this. Yet, you took the decision to give him an opportunity to back out, be thankful for the blowjob, and never bring up the matter again. Him taking you would be very personal.

“Please, my love,” You can hear the yearning in his voice as he whispers in your ear. “I just want to make you feel good too.”

You nod, and he attacks your mouth once again while his hands pull the hem of your t-shirt, exposing your chest, and you can't stop yourself from moaning at being so bare to him.

He doesn't think twice about placing his mouth on your breasts as he rolls the hard bud between his teeth and tongue and gives the other one a gentle stroke with his other hand. He bites your nipple as your head is flung back, and all you can do is pray that no one hears your loud scream.

He takes his mouth from your breasts and begins a trail down your stomach, and you can't stop whining due to the lack of warm sensation from his tongue in your niples, but you quickly figure out where he's headed as he lowers himself between your thighs.

He doesn't ask for permission as he aggressively rips off your shorts and, along with them, your underwear, revealing your pussy to him. He pulled your hips closer and dragged a finger down your folds, then placed it inside his mouth.

"Oh, you're so soaking wet, just for me, hm?" You are so stunned by the sight that you hardly pay attention to what the blonde is saying. “You taste so good, my darling.”

You stand on your elbows and glance at the man who is standing in between your legs. You can't help but gasp at the taunting as he starts giving you small small bites and kisses along your inner thighs. But you want him now.

“Oh Sanji, stop teasing for fuc-“

He didn't wait for you to finish the curse word before burying his face, pushing his tongue against your wet pussy, and licking a long, temptingly slow strip through your folds until he reached your sensitive bud.

In an attempt to create more friction, you thrust your hips into his mouth, and your left hand immediately settled on his blonde hair. Sanji found the ideal pattern to swirl his tongue over your clitoral region, leaving you panting for air.

He pushed two fingers deep within you, and you felt your walls clenching around them, sucking him in. His pace was fast, and he was still paying careful attention to your clit, leaving you close to the edge. You were a mess, and it wouldn't take long for you to cum. Yet you still needed him; you wanted more.

You sucked in a sharp breath and tried to block out the inappropriate sounds echoing through the kitchen.

“Sanji, p-please more”

"Use your words, my angel." You could see the glistening fluids from your pussy plastered on his chin when he pushed his head off of your thighs. “What do you want?”

“Fuck me, oh g-gods. I need you inside me." At your words, he groaned and took both of his fingers out to direct his cock at your entrance.

It wasn't difficult for him to enter since you were so soaked. At the feeling of it, you both simultaneously moaned. You felt completely filled; he just stood there for a while, waiting for you to get used to the size, until you signaled for him to start moving. It began off slow, but soon he started out moving his hips at a faster pace to satisfy both of you.

"You're perfect,” he moaned in two thrusts, and you had to put your hand over your mouth. “Look at you, taking my cock so well, oh darling.”

The hands on your hips let go and grabbed you under your right thigh, opening your legs and hitting you more deeply and faster. You thought you were seeing stars when he hit an exact spot inside your pussy that made you shout.

“Cum for me, my love. I know you want”

It didn't take long for your orgasm to hit you after that, your eyes rolled back and you let out a whine sound as you felt your walls squeeze his dick. He moaned along with you at the feeling and a few more thrusts and he came inside you.

Sanji's head fell directly to your shoulder, and you instinctively placed your palm in his blond locks. While the fluid was slowly dripping out of you, he continued to remain deep inside and breathe loudly.

He raised his head only to smile recklessly while glancing into your mouth. “So, do you still have a headache?”

Your hand reached out to push him, but you were helpless to suppress the giggles that came. He drew away from inside you but was still between your knees as he chuckled proudly.

“Do you think anyone heard?”

“I'm not sure, maybe when you let out that screa-" You slapped him on the shoulder to cut him off while embarrassed because of the probability. “Ok, ok my darling, next time we’ll find a more private place.”

“Next time, huh?

Sanji stood still with an anxious smile on his face; it was almost hilarious how someone so confident in themselves would respond in that manner. You wrapped his neck with both of your arms and gave him a quick kiss to reassure him that everything was fine.

"You should come to the kitchen more often, preferably alone.”

"And you should go shirtless more often too.”

"Only for you, my love.”

You gave him another kiss before leaving the counter, getting ready to go, and returning to the bedroom. Even though the night seemed to be becoming lighter, you were aware that there were still a few hours until sunrise. It was evident that there would be plenty of issues to address when you awoke, but for the time being, you were content, even though you were a little exhausted from the activities. As sleep came, all you could think of was Sanji and his smile.

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burreauxsworld · 3 months ago

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Ours To Keep (2) | Joe Burrow

Angst/Fluff

Summary: Joe doesn’t have the best reaction to your news, and it causes some tension between the two of you.

••••••

You stared at Joe in confusion as he laughed.

“Good one, Y/N” he says, still laughing. “But if you’re going to play a prank on me, at least come up with a better joke” he adds as he calms down. “Joe, I’m not joking” you tell him quietly. “The acting was seriously top tier. How have you never shown that to me before? I mean the tears looked so real-“

“Joe I’m not kidding. I’m not trying to play a prank on you” you cut him off. “I’ve been nauseous all week, my boobs are incredibly sore, and I missed my period over a week ago” you explain, and he lets out a sigh. “There’s no possible way you could be pregnant. You’re on birth control. You have that thing in your arm” he reminds you, smiling again. “I think you’re being paranoid” he says causing you to scoff.

“Joe, this is serious-“

“You’re not pregnant. You sound crazy” he says pulling back from you. “Have I been working you too hard? Maybe it’s stress. Take the rest of the day off-“

“That doesn’t explain the positive pregnancy test on my bathroom counter” you argue starting to get aggravated. “I’ve been ignoring it for weeks. Hoping maybe I was a little bit crazy. But we weren’t exactly the most careful-“

“So you’re turning this around on me?” Joe asks, his jaw clenched. “No, I’m not-“

“That’s how it sounds. You were irresponsible and now you’re paying the price for it and taking it out on me” he spits with his eyes full of anger. “Last time I checked it takes two people for something like this to happen. I didn’t have sex with myself” you retort and he scoffs. “How could you let this happen? Do you know how much shit this is going to cause? I don’t need this right now. I have to go back to practice, and to be honest I’m not sure I even want you here right now. You’re dismissed for the day” Joe walked out of the office leaving you stunned.

You knew he might not have the best reaction but you didn’t think it would be like this. Joe has never spoken to you that way, even when he was at his worst. With tears in your eyes, you gathered your bag and slowly began to make your way toward the parking lot.

You had a lot of things running through your head, but one rash thought lingered and it made you sick to your stomach. It was going to be a long night.

•••

Later that night, you’re sitting on your couch with your laptop open in your lap. You decided to throw yourself into work, and Joe had a foundation event coming up that Robin asked you to help organize. Even mad at him you couldn’t let this go undone. His foundation was one of the most important things to him, and you kept telling yourself you were more so doing this for his parents. You’re about halfway through editing the announcement picture that would eventually be posted to the foundations instagram, when you heard a knock at your door.

Furrowing your brows, and setting your laptop on the glass coffee table, you walked over to the door and looked through the peep-hole. Your heart lurched at the sight of him. You open the door, and the two of you stare at each other for about a minute.

“You’re not here to throw me down the stairs, are you?” You ask, half joking.

Joe rolls his eyes, “can I come in?”

You move to the side and let him into your home. He kicks his shoes off, knowing you don’t like shoes on your light colored carpet. “What’s up? Why’d you stop by?” You ask, a sigh escaping your lips. You know exactly why he’s here, but you wanted to see what he had to say for himself. “I went home today after practice and had some time to think. The way I treated you was wrong and just absolutely disgusting” he says, stepping toward you, and you take a step back.

“I deserve that.” He says running his hand through his hair. “I never should have blamed you for this. This is just as much my fault, if not more. You did your part being safe, I’m the one that decided not to use condoms. That’s on me. I want you to know how sorry I am about today,” Joe says. You guys never breaking eye contact.

“You’re probably terrified, and I didn’t make it any easier-“

“That’s for sure.” You mutter. “Joe, I never meant for this to happen. And I’ve done a lot of thinking myself. I’m going to keep this baby. I’m not asking you for any help, I’m not asking you for any money. I’m fully prepared to do this by myself. I’ve started looking for another job-“

“Hang on a second-“

“You can sign your rights away. We don’t even have to tell anyone that the baby is yours. You’ll have no ties to it” you ramble, and he shakes his head. “That’s not what I want.” He states, his voice firm. “This is my kid, Y/N. Not just something I can pretend doesn’t exist. I want to do this with you, if you’ll let me” he pleads, reaching out to grab your hand.

“You really hurt me today, Joe.” You told him. “You made me feel like I ruined your life”

“I know, and I regret everything I said to you. I can’t even put into words how sorry I am. You didn’t ruin my life. Neither one of us could have anticipated this happening” he assures you. “I am so so sorry” he says, pulling you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight hug. “I’m still very upset with you. It’s going to take some time to fully forgive you” you tell him, and he frowns, but he understands.

“I have a doctors appointment in the morning, if you’d like to come” you offer. “It’s just to confirm everything and get a due date and all that fun stuff”

“I’ll drive and buy you breakfast” he says, looking down at you. “Speaking of food, I’m starving” you groan, and he lets out a laugh. “Alright, I guess I’ll feed you” he jokes, making his way to your kitchen. “Ooh, can you make that pasta that I like? I’m pretty sure I have all of the ingredients” you ask with pleading eyes.

“Yes, I can make you the pasta. Pick a movie, and shut that laptop. Work is over for the day” he orders.

“Sir, yes, sir”

•••

The Next Day

“Well congratulations, Y/N. You are indeed pregnant,” the doctor says, entering the room after your test results finally come back. “Both the urine and blood test came back positive. Judging by the numbers on your results it’s looking like you’re around 8 or 9 weeks pregnant, that’s around 2 months and a week.. Which would make your due date sometime in February, but we can’t be sure until we do an ultrasound” the doctor explains.

“The next course of action is going to be removing your nexplanon and doing an ultrasound” she explains.

You look over at Joe, who’s listening intently. He hasn’t said much since the two of you got here, but you’re giving him time. He wants to be involved, but he processes things a different way. You respect that.

“We can schedule the ultrasound for about a week from now. I don’t have any available ultrasound techs today. So I have a list of appointments, and you can choose what works best for you and your schedule. All of them are on Monday. There’s a 9am, 10am, 12pm, 3pm, and 4pm-“

“We can do Monday at 9am” Joe says, and you look over at him. “You have practice on Monday” you remind him. He shrugs. “We only watch film for the first two hours on Monday, you know that. They’ll be fine without me for an hour” he assures you. “We’ll do Monday at 9am” you tell the doctor, knowing Joe wasn’t going to let up.

“Perfect. Stop at the front desk to check out on your way back out. See you Monday. Congratulations, again” she smiles as she leaves the room. You look back over at Joe. “You okay?” You ask, and he nods. “I’m good. Now let’s go get you guys some breakfast,” he says, and a warm feeling spreads through your chest. You slip your hand in his and he leads you out of the room.

•••

“What can I get you guys to drink?”

“I’ll take a coffee with extra cream and sugar” you say, and Joe protests. “You can’t have coffee. Caffeine isn’t good for the baby” he says, and you shoot him a glare that’s strong enough to cut. The waitress looks between the two of you hesitantly. . “I can have a little bit of caffeine,” you argue, and look back at waitress. “Ignore him. I’ll have a coffee” you say with a smile. It’s Joe’s turn to roll his eyes, as he orders a water for himself.

Once the waitress walks away, you kick Joe’s shin under the table. “You’re not going to be one of those overprotective fathers who dictates what I eat, drink, and do. I’m an adult. I can handle myself”

He lets out a sigh, knowing not to argue because your hormones are high right now. “Please do your research before acting like a control freak. I can have up to 200 grams of caffeine a day,” you tell him, and he sighs. “I just want to keep the two of you safe,” he admits, and you start to feel bad for going off on him.

“I appreciate that, Joey, but we’re good. We can handle a little bit of caffeine” you assure him, a slight smile on your face. The waitress returns with your drinks, and the proceeds to ask if you’re ready to order your food. “Can I have two over medium eggs, with hash browns, and toast?” The waitress writes down your order, Joe looks confused, but orders his blueberry pancakes and the waitress goes to put the order in.

“You hate eggs,” Joe comments.

“The baby wants them.”

Joe laughs, tossing his head back. “What the baby wants, the baby gets”

~~~~~~~

Ahhh our guys won yesterday!! I’m so proud of them :)

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow smut

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yuwuta · 16 days ago

Text

YOU AND I TOGETHER, WON’T YOU HOLD ON TO ME — YUUTA OKKOTSU

cw mentions of children, pregnancy. so much of yuuta being happy and sappy :(( sorry i haven’t shutup about my little depressed lovesick boy making it out and living a full life. probably won’t anytime soon actually. satoru is alive and well in all my renditions of happily ever after and that won’t change either i fear

Yuuta talks about the future often. A future with you, and him, and your friends, and a family where you’re all together forever and he gets to love you until the end of time.

Sometimes, you think he doesn’t realize what he’s doing—dreaming about forever with you; but you can never find it in your heart to break his illusion. The boy who used to dread his next waking moment is dreaming and dreaming and dreaming, and making all of yours come true.

It’s quiet in this part of the Gojo compound. The gentle sounds of a stream running through the garden, and chirping of birds are the only noises that disrupt your daydreams.

Or, perhaps, fuel them.

“I hope our kids aren’t afraid of birds,” Yuuta muses, wide eyes looking past your face up to the tall trees, full of happily singing bluebirds, “There’s so many of them here.”

You’re gentle when you stroke his hair, taking advantage of his head in your lap to pull the longer pieces out of his eyes.

Your smile is giddy, unfiltered. “Kids? Plural?”

Yuuta hums with smile. His eyes remain on the sky, chasing a pair of birds that flitter between long branches.

“Yeah. At least two, so they don’t get lonely,” he says, “They’ll have us, and their cousins, and sensei, and our friends, but they’re going to need each other at home.”

Yuuta lets his eyes fall to you at the end of his sentence, a sparkling smile on his scarred lips.

“I see,” you smile, “At least two so they can be friends.”

“Best friends,” he revises your statement, “So they can train together, too, if they want to be sorcerers. Or not. It’s fine, either way.” He blinks, eyes warm, “I hear that four is the happy medium for a family, but I think three is going to be easier inheritance wise, if sensei is serious about making me clan head someday.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, but if a fourth comes along, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure sensei will have made more than enough money for them by then.”

Yuuta giggles, earnestly in your arms at that. “Of course he will.”

You pause for a moment, committing his laugh to memory. His features flush slightly under your gaze, and you lean down to kiss his scarred forehead. You let your hands resume petting his hair, following in his gaze to look up at the birds.

“Tell me more about them.”

Yuuta doesn’t waste a moment, closing his eyes; letting you paint the picture in the sky for yourself as he talks.

“The gap between the oldest and youngest is six or seven years. I think five might be enough, though. So, that means our middle one is about three when our littlest comes along.”

“Unless a fourth happens.”

Yuuta hums in agreement. “Unless a fourth happens. But we’ll have time.”

You’ll have time, you nod. You have time now, you and him; all the time in the world.

“A three year old and newborn sounds like a lot of work.”

“Maybe. But we’ll also have a seven year old. He’s going to want to help with the baby, so we’ll have an extra hand,” Yuuta says, “And that’s not even counting sensei and the rest.”

“He?”

“I think he’ll be a boy, the oldest. He might look like me, but he’ll act like you, so he’s going to be Kugisaki’s favorite.”

You find yourself choking out a genuine cackle at that. When you look down, Yuuta’s got a smile wider than yours.

“He sounds wonderful. Like his father,” you confess, “But the idea of pregnancy thrice in a seven year span sounds exhausting.”

“We can use surrogates. Or adopt. Or whatever,” Yuuta tells you, “Gojo-sensei will help us figure it out if we need help.”

You have no doubt about that. And now, when you look back up to the sky, you can see vignettes of Gojo-sensei with your your seven year old on his shoulders, your middle child on his hip, and the baby gnawing at his legs.

And then Yuuji is skipping into the scene, cooing at the youngest, picking him up and consoling him effortlessly. He carries the baby over to a crib with another crying newborn that looks eerily like Megumi, whose green eyes go wide at the stranger, then smile gummy as both babies reach for each other.

Maki is there too, tapping your eldest on the shoulder with her staff and pretending not to have done it. Nobara holds up a shirt to the middle child, brassy in questioning Gojo why she told her that the baby would fit in this size that’s obviously too big, meanwhile the toddler ignores them both, fascinated with the marks on Toge’s cheeks as he plays peek-a-boo.

It’s not hard to imagine. The scenes in your head aren’t wild fantasies or unattainable dreams—not anymore.

“You want a big family.”

Yuuta nods, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from his hair, and to his lips. “We have the resources for it now. Not just financially—we have time, and lots of friends, and lots of love.”

Yuuta presses a kiss to the back of your hand, and you smile. He’s right, there’s more than enough love to go around.

#sorry about this. it will probably happen again #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader

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seumyo · 9 months ago

Text

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 6:34

do u want to celebrate your bday, mr. great explosion murder god dynamight

Bakugou stared at your message for a while. He sits by his study desk, supposedly taking a break from his homework. His brows are contorted to one of contemplation, a pout on his lips as he types in his reply—rather quickly, too.

hell no

(ꃋᴖꃋ)

He shook his head. Bakugou turns off his phone and sets it to the side.

If anything, he hates and genuinely gets upset with surprises, especially when celebrating his birthday. He doesn’t get it; why people celebrate another year closer to death. When he was younger, he remembered loving the attention, the gifts, and the praise.

But now that he’s older, he’d much rather just spend time by himself. Maybe cook himself a dish or two to celebrate, but that’s it. He doesn’t need anything grand—not anymore, at the very least.

Then again, why would you be asking him a question like that as if you weren’t on the other side of Japan? He thinks it’s childish; besides, celebrating his birthday is a complete waste of time. He’s a hero-in-training, and so are you, so he’d rather use that time of celebration to either train or study (and he has the audacity to call other people nerds).

Bakugou decides to go to school earlier than normal because he doesn’t want to give those idiots (his classmates) time to even prepare for a surprise party (yes, Kaminari’s horrible at whispering and keeping secrets) for him in the dorms (and also the classroom; it just slipped from the tip of Kirishima’s tongue).

A hand holds onto his shoulder, and by instinct, he moves away from the contact and turns to the person with a scowl. If he weren’t alert, he would’ve blown said person to bits, and yet the moment he hears that familiar laugh, all raised defenses are lowered and his tense shoulders relax.

“What the fuck?”

“Surprise! I knew you’d come to school early,” you greet him with a bear hug. Bakugou scowls as he tries to push you away.

“Kats, I missed you so much! It’s been forever since we last saw each other—”

“How the hell did you get here?”

You grinned, ignoring his non-serious threats of exploding you to the skies. “Come on, Grouchy. I don’t have much time, y’know?” You dragged Bakugou toward one of the private lounge areas within the grounds of U.A., and he’s surprised you knew how to navigate your way around the campus. “Don’t worry, I asked for a bit of help from Midoriya since he’s the only one I know aside from you that goes to this school.”

“That damned—”

“Don’t get mad at him! Getting mad would make you wrinkle quicker, and don’t furrow your brows; I think I’m seeing wrinkled lines in your forehead.”

“You—”

“There’s no time for scolding me, Kats!” You held up a bento cake to him.

He notices the two little boxes of what he assumed would be his presents behind you and the lighter you used to light up the candle. He thinks it’s wasteful when he could’ve just lit it up himself with his Quirk. Then again, he couldn’t really do anything anymore because what’s done is done.

The cake itself was thoughtful. Frosted with light orange frosting, decked out with what he assumed were mini explosions made out of fondant at the sides and a little lettering that said, “hbd dynamight,” with a little spark of red, orange, and black at the end of the sentence.

Bakugou looks back on it, and the realization dawns on him.

This is the first time someone—aside from his parents—made the effort to give him a cake for his birthday.

“Do you want me to sing happy birthday?” You ask when he doesn’t immediately blow out the candle.

“Fuck, no.” He rolled his eyes and took a moment before doing so.

“You didn’t have to do all this, nerd.”

“But I wanted to.”

That made Bakugou smile, even if it was only a little. “Thanks.”

“You’re seventeen now, and that is one year older than being a senior citizen,” he chuckled, “and as always, don’t smoke, drink, or do anything that would get your hero license revoked. Lessen the frown and turn it upside down; remember that I’m an awesome friend for remembering your favorite cake flavor even if you don’t eat it often—and finally, happy birthday, Kats.”

His heart is beating too quickly as he tries to play it cool by nodding to everything you said. He’s missed this, though he’d rather die than tell you that, knowing damn well you would never let him live it down.

“Whatever, you sap.” Bakugou stuck out his tongue, and you did as well.

“Well— shit, I have to go before I miss the next train.”

“Don’t have morning classes, then? Shiketsu’s a four-hour commute from here.”

“Uh huh. Remember—”

“Yeah, yeah. Cake goes in the fridge if I don’t want to eat it, and send you a video of me opening your gift. I hope it’s not ass, like last year’s mug with our picture on it.”

“Hey–! It was a very good picture,” you replied. “I have one too, just so you know,” you chuckled after finishing packing everything up. “Because it’s cool to match mugs. Really good way to strengthen our relationship. It makes you think of me whenever you have your morning coffee or tea.”

He snorts. “As if, nerd.”

Bakugou watches you leave, but not before seeing you stumble against your feet, which made him cackle obnoxiously at your misery. With the bento cake and gifts in either of his hands, he thinks this is one of his best birthdays yet. And spending it with you, even if it were only for a short moment, is surprisingly fulfilling.

He may start to enjoy surprises if they were this pleasant.

Now he just has to worry about getting back to the dorms without being seen by any of the idiots that would pester him about where he got his cake and gifts from.

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yuanist · 2 months ago

Text

kuroo texts you at 3:52 am, almost three months after you broke up.

admittedly, you probably should've silenced notifications from him by now, but when you roll over—eyes barely open, a little headache from the light—you know you're much, much too late.

a text, from your ex-boyfriend, the big, blue bubble stretched across your phone.

i just moaned your name during sex.

you blink at the screen.

you what?

moaned your name, he sends. totally ruined the moment.

you look up, and then down, and then up one more time to make sure what you’re looking it is real and not some strange, midnight hallucination before typing again.

you’re fucking with me, right?

dead serious, he replies. worst moment of my life.

you can hear his voice in the text, and if you weren’t so caught up in thinking about the poor girl who probably just had the worst sexual experience of her life, you would laugh.

you need to find a hobby or something, tetsurou. you send. and preferably one that doesn't involve tinder.

i have hobbies!

non-sexual ones?

he types for a while before a short, little totally! pops up on his side of the conversation.

and you hate that this is the part of him that’s most intriguing. the unintentional charm, too weird for his own good part that keeps you texting him at four in the morning.

yeah, you send, quicker than you intended. totally.

and suddenly, you're really considering something you shouldn't. before tonight, you hadn't heard from in a while—at least not enough to be thinking about him. you'd resigned yourself to your little, single life and you figured boyfriends might be more harm than they're worth (at least for a while, anyway), but now you have a new little do you wanna come over? typed out into your messaging app, finger hovering over the send button.

you take a minute, trying to rationalize.

the responsible part of you thinks it's way too late to be asking for anything good. you have class in the morning, and you're all tucked into bed, and bringing him here would really stir up some old feelings you weren't looking to bring back right now.

the other part of you—the more fun of the two, you'll admit—knows that you're thinking about him and he's... definitely thinking of you, so what's the harm in indulging a little bit? maybe nothing would happen anyway and you'd just end up staring at each other for a while, but sitting in your bed alone, staring doesn't sound like the worst thing in the world.

you send the text.

there's radio silence for a moment, and you think you might have just fucked the whole we can be exes and friends! thing up, but after a moment or two, he replies.

really?

and you sigh, don't make me change my mind.

he sends an immediate be there in 10, and you flop yourself back into the pillows.

now, okay, you'd be lying if you said you haven't been in this situation before. you and kuroo have always had a strange habit of—gravitating towards each other, to put it politely. it doesn't matter how many times you guys swear each other off, there's always going to be a party, or a text, or a run-in at the grocery store that brings you together (in more ways than one).

the whole i just moaned your name thing, though, that one's new.

your eyes flicker up to the ceiling, then down to your feet, and then, finally, your phone—the reality of this whole thing sinking in a little.

are you supposed to—shave your legs for this? put on your good pajamas: the ones that ride up a little when you bend over? is that where this is going? you're pretty sure it is, but every time this has happened before, it's been a little more spontaneous than this. right now, you have time to prepare and time to think, which you're now realizing is something you really did not want.

you sit there for a minute, coming to the conclusion that this is kuroo. you dated for two years, and you shared a bed at night for more of that time than you'd care to admit, so what does it matter how prepared you are?

you hear a key turn in the front door (the one from under the mat; you took away his actual key you think) and, all of a sudden, you're kind of nervous.

you haven't felt this way in a while, especially when it comes to him. you think you might hate it.

nevertheless, your feet hit the floor and you let yourself pad your way into the entryway, just in time to see someone sliding his shoes into the gap between the doorway and the wall.

you flick the light on, and he jumps a little.

a beat of silence, and then, "hi."

that's all you can come up with right now, truly, and you blame half of it on the time and the other half on the fact that kuroo looks like that.

he's always been pretty, no doubt about that, but right now he looks a little beat up in a way that you have to admit you're kind of into.

his hair's messed up: half of it shifted more left than right, with a little curl to it that he doesn't normally have. his cheeks are red, and he's a sort of out of breath and—did he run here?

"hi," he says, smiling, heaving out a breath.

(oh, he totally did. maybe you're a little more alluring than you thought).

you chuckle out one more, final hi, before he steps towards you.

he smells good—not that that's something you focus on, obviously—but he's still wearing that cologne you bought him last christmas and there's a little tinge of sweat to him that suits him so much better than you'd think.

he has a t-shirt on—one you got from a concert a couple years ago; you can't remember exactly when anymore, but it's clear that the thing has gotten its wear. the hole in the left shoulder is glaring at you from here and you kind of want to poke it.

"i have your key, by the way," he says then, dangling the little thing between his fingers. "did you ask for it back?"

oops.

"i—meant to." you snatch it from him, tossing it onto one of the side tables. "definitely meant to."

his hand lingers there for a second, a big, toothy smile spread across his face. "oh, sure you did."

and you eye him, a short what's that supposed to mean? rolling out of your lips.

he shakes his head, moving closer again—so much so that you can feel the cast of his breath along your cheeks.

"you still like me," he says, and you swear you can see his vocal cords bob in his throat.

"pardon?"

"you think i'm fun—and endearing, and still worthy of a house key."

"i think you're nuts." you say, fluttering your lashes a little. "and really not in the position to be making these accusations."

"you really think so?" he leans in one more time, close enough that his lips brush that arch between your jaw and your neck. "go ahead—tell me all about how crazy i am."

you feel something inside you quiver.

this right here, this is the whole game between the two of you. some sick little cat-and-mouse thing that always leads to something that you regret in the morning and—inevitably—repeat next week.

truthfully, though, you're getting kind of sick of fighting it.

"god, i can't stand you." you back away, edging towards the hallway that leads to your room. "are you coming with me or what?"

and he grins, because of course he is.

reblogs are appreciated! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

#hq x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x you #haikyuu #hq!!#if u recognize this one no you don't #hiiii

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nadvs · 2 months ago

Text

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. “Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

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