#maybe I’ll continue it and do one when they are teens then one when they are the age they are in fcc
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m-robinavitch · 1 day ago
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7 + robby x jack’s sibling
Trope Tuesday! Send an ask with a trope from this list with a character and I’ll make a shitty blurb for you!
Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Abbot!Reader
Trope: Best friend’s sibling
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, age gap relationship
“You should just stay the night man, it’s late and you’ve had a few drinks,” Jack said- pointing to the couch, trying to convince his friend to stay over.
“Yeah Robby, it’ll make me feel better knowing you’re safe,” you smiled innocently. Robby only had those drinks to calm his nerves, because every time Jack left the room or turned- you were on him. Kissing his neck or jaw or stealing his breath from his lips. He tried shoving you off, not because he didn’t want you, no- Robby and you have been fucking behind your brother’s back for years.
You were, what Jack liked to dub as- the accident. You were born when Jack, was in his late teens. A complete mistake on your parent’s part- apparently vasectomies should be checked every year or two. Oh well. You loved your brother. His name was your first word, you crawled into his bed when you had nightmares, you scribbled letters to him while he was deployed overseas, you were the flower girl in his wedding with his late wife, yours was the bed he crawled in when she died because he couldn’t sleep alone and needed to cry- and you never judged him for it.
Only, some years after he became an attending in Pittsburgh- he brought along a tall, attractive man one Christmas. You were home from college and instantly you were enamored with Robby. Jack thought it was cute at first- the way you took up Robby’s time and attention that first time you met. Asking him about being an ER doctor “I’m an ER doctor too? You never care about my experience?” “Jackie I’ve heard enough from you- go help mom in the kitchen” And about places he travelled to. “I was literally deployed all over the map” “This isn’t about you right now Jack” And maybe before he left you worked up the courage that only a delusional girl could have- you kissed him. You and Robby were the last ones awake and he and Jack and your sister in law were leaving in the morning so you kissed him. And he let himself kiss back for a moment- just a second before he realized how wrong it was. You were his best friend’s sister- the forbidden fruit. That didn’t stop the way he let you crawl into his lap and continue kissing him.
The next time was when you went to visit Jack and your sister in law that summer after the Christmas kiss. Jack was working mornings with Robby in the Pitt, and you had spent the day exploring the city by yourself before you made your way to the hospital to go home with your brother. Only he got more busy and-
“Robby can take you home- he’s already done for the day,” instant heart eyes- Robby could feel himself stuck between a rock and a hard place- also know as his dick because he’s been thinking about you since Christmas. He wanted to disagree but then there would be questions as to why so there you sat in some parking garage- straddling Robby in the driver’s seat while kissing along his neck. This was so wrong. So fucking wrong but you grind into him and-
The next time was when you came into town for a few days to explore job opportunities with some college friends. Jack and your sister in law made the guest room up for you but you insisted on spending the time with your friends in a hotel like young adults do. Only you lied to both your family and your friends. You spent those days in Robby’s bed for the first time- learning exactly what sex should be like with someone who cared about you.
And now you’re here, years later- visiting your brother for the weekend because you honestly missed him. And like he always does when you’re here- he invites Robby for dinner. And after everyone says good night you wait an hour or two, practically vibrating in your skin because once you know Jack’s asleep- you all but run to the living room. Robby’s awake. He always waits up for you. Hungrily kisses you while pulling you into his lap- throwing whatever thin shirt you wore to bed to the floor so he can kiss along your chest like he’s come to know you enjoy.
“Missed you so much sweetheart-” his earlier frustrations with you were gone- taken over by hunger and desire now. “Been thinking about this all fucking month-“ since you told Robby you were coming for a visit he’s been eagerly waiting. And as he groans just a little too loud when you sink down onto him- you cover his mouth with your palm while you set a fast pace on his lap. No matter how many times you’ve done this with Robby- it was always a stretch. Always made you tense and whine at the feeling. One day you’ll tell your brother that his best friend has been fucking his sister- just not this time.
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mwphisto · 20 days ago
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“…quit starin’ at my chest.”
You blink, dilated pupils snapping back to normal as you pull your gaze away. “I wasn’t staring.” You counter it so effortlessly that Caleb nearly believed you for a second.
“Yeah? And I don’t know how to fly a plane.” A gentle scoff as he crossed his arms over his sizable chest. “You were practically drooling, had I let you stare any longer you’d have a wet mark on your own chest.”
“Fine, fine. I was staring. But how can I not after the little bot said your chest grew a whole 0.613 cm? You’ve been putting in a lot of effort, huh?” You’re poking now, closer to his collarbone since his arms are protectively crossed.
Caleb’s ears turn of a shade of red then, mildly embarrassed that you recalled what the AI assistant had so carelessly disclosed. He had been working out, and his main source of motivation being to impress you.
Well, he certainly had.
“Maybe I have been, maybe I haven’t. Maybe I just work out enough that it happened that way…” his throat bobs as he swallows, that redness on his ears now shading the skin just below his eyes. “Doesn’t mean you can ogle.”
A tease, one you both saw right through. Because it was Caleb, when the hell would he ever tell you no?
“You ogle at my breasts all the time!” A defiant retort, a smug smirk on your wicked lips and the flush of his cheeks were turning to a full blown blush. “I-I do not!”
But oh he did, he absolutely did.
“Now we’re just lying to each other.” It was your turn to cross your arms over your chest, laughing as you stared him down. “We can admire each other’s chest and be honest about it, can’t we?” But Caleb.exe was fully malfunctioning — as if it was news to him that you knew he fully checked you out multiple times a day.
“C’mon, don’t shy away now.” You step a little closer, grinning at him like you’ve caught your prey. “We can be honest about our feelings now that we’re adults.” Oh you were trying to send him into cardiac arrest.
“You look good, Caleb. But you don’t have to bulk up just to impress me. I’ve liked the way you looked since we were kids. All scraggly with missing teeth and bandages plastered to your knees. Your cute little farmers tans when you refused sunscreen but loved those tank tops.”
He’s going to pass out from holding his breath, you can feel the tension but you continue. “I’ve liked the way you looked throughout our childhood, those brief pre-teen awkward phases, the whole popular boy jock thing you had going on in high school, pilot Caleb, Colonel Caleb.”
Your breath is warm, there’s barely any space between your bodies as you whisper ever so quietly, so sweetly…
“You’re my Caleb at the end of the day, I’ve loved every version of you. And I’ll love every version to come.”
Oh yeah, you were out for blood.
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Rumor has it, Caleb.exe is still holding his breath because of this… let me nurse from those tiddies big boy c’mere
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neeeooon · 2 months ago
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OH MY DAYS i need a blue lock fic with the characters being with a s/o who easily gets jealous but won’t do anything about it, except maybe holding the characters hand or cling onto them and they think it’s the CUTEST THING EVER they just find you so cute with your lil pout and furrowed eyebrows, and the reader maybe glares at the person who is making them feel this uncomfortable feeling (jealousy and possessiveness) residing in them :0
characters: isagi, barou (my king pls i’d let him step on me), rin, sae, chigiri, and maybe kaiser or nagi? ><
ofc!! thank you for the request! wbk version here
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when they find your jealousy adorable
bf bllk x gn!reader. fluff
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isagi yoichi
-> isagi’s practice was canceled and he promised to spend the day with you. until half of his team crashed your date
-> the worst part? isagi was excited to see them! you sat there, scanning bookshelves and holding your own growing pile of books, side-eying your man every few seconds to see if he’d offer to carry them for you
-> “coffee coffee,” kurona chanted, resulting in the others craving caffeine as well. when isagi turned to ask if you wanted to join them, he caught your jealous little pout and the dip between your brows and melted
-> “i’ll meet you guys in a little while. my girl/boy needs me!” you humphed and spun away when your boyfriend finally tried to pluck the books out of your arms. “i’m sorry, sweetheart. i should have been paying more attention, but you’re just so cute when you’re jealous.”
barou shoei
-> you can’t help your rising temper as people crowd around you and barou, chanting “king, king!” repeatedly as they try to get his attention
-> your grip tightened around his arm, pulling him with you to the car and locking the doors when you were in. “babe, i love you, but i hate your fans.”
-> barou smirked and admired your flushed and pouty face as you continued to stare out the blackened windows at the fans. the chants got quieter and quieter as he drove away, but they still irked you
-> “you look jealous.” you faced him, appalled. “jealous? me? of them?! yuck!” but your cheeks were red and barou picked your hand up to kiss the back of it as he drove. “it’s adorable.” “… i might be a little, tiny, small bit jealous…”
itoshi rin
-> “rin, hold me back.” “no.” “i’m about to beat her up! so either hold me back, or bail me out of jail.”
-> you were at a park when a food truck worker started hitting on your boyfriend, despite his obvious disinterest and your presence
-> sighing heavily, rin grabbed your hand and pulled you with him as he approached the car. usually he’d find the obsessive, incoherent mumbling of threats irritating, but coming from you? he found himself smiling at your creativity
-> “you don’t need to be jealous.” “i wasn’t..! well, she didn’t need to flirt so heavily while i was literally holding your hand!” rin pinched your cheek before starting the car. “cute.” “i’ll kill her!”
itoshi sae
-> your jaw dropped when you walk into your house to find your boyfriend and a man sitting at your table with dinner and wine. they greeted you casually, like you were the one intruding, as you slipped past to grab some water from the fridge
-> you spent the whole evening sulking in the living room until his friend finally left. “who was that?” “a friend from spain.” “hm.” ohh, you’re jealous. you’re envious. you’re searching re al’s social media for any mention of that guy and humphed when you found a photo of him and sae as young teens
-> “well, i’m sorry i interrupted your date.” you couldn’t see sae smiling at you as he explained, “it wasn’t a date. he’s in town for work.” “work that involves drinking our wine..” “important business.”
-> you flopped yourself across the couch as sae approached with a bottle. “i don’t want your reject wine.” “i was going to give it to him, but his wife is pregnant and can’t drink.” you blink. “why didn’t you lead with that?!” “cause you’re cute when you’re jealous.”
chigiri hyoma
-> chigiri is the type to stew in his jealousy until it goes away, but he found himself smiling when running into an old friend while out with you
-> you are not as conscious of your inner emotions, and chigiri had to bite back his grin as you fumed silently at his side, especially when his friend pushed chigiri’s shoulder when she laughed. “we should totally meet up again! i’ll see if anyone else is in town. bye, hyoma!”
-> after she left, chigiri burst into laughter at your little, mocking, “bye hyoma! i’m sick of her ass.”
-> you grumbled things about the encounter the rest of the day, and chigiri just smiled and chuckled through it all. “how are you so social?” “how are you so cute when you’re jealous?” “i’m not!”
michael kaiser
-> usually, kaiser's the one getting jealous, so when you were the one clinging to him through the crowd of fans, he couldn't help but be amused
-> “back off,” you seethed when a fan stepped a bit too close to your man, and you would have snapped your teeth if they didn’t scamper off after the first warning. kaiser grinned, completely invested in your bodyguarding
-> you managed to break through the fans, practically shielding kaiser with a hug you claimed wasn’t a hug. he poked one of your flushed cheeks and beamed when you frowned. “you’re adorable.”
-> “am not! i’m protecting you from those heathens!” “you’re jealous of my fans.” “nuh-uh!” “yes. it’s adorable.” “… i’m gonna kick you!”
nagi seishiro
-> getting jealous is a frequent thing when it comes to your oblivious boyfriend, and you constantly have to remind him of that
-> “sei?” “hm?” “you know they’re flirting with you, right?” you point at the online gaming chat, where some user he was playing with was calling him cute and asking for his number. nagi just blinked up at you. “but your name is in my bio.” “i don’t think they care.” “i put a heart, though..”
-> you pouted. “fine. do what you want. let them call you cute or whatever…” nagi can’t help but grin a little at your jealousy
-> when you turn your back to him, he rolls his chair over to you and wraps both arms around your middle, resting his forehead against your back. “cute. only you’re cute.” he gave you a small squeeze. “especially when you’re jealous..”
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occamstfs · 2 months ago
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Typecast Troubles
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After turning down twink roles for too long, Henry needs work. Now. Offered one final lifeline in the role of Brutus, a stereotypical meathead, he has no choice to accept. Worry not, by the end of the audition he'll be more than muscular enough to embody the brute.
Here's an actor learning the hard way that some roles can change you whether you like it or not. Muscle growth and himbofication! Hope you enjoy! -Occam
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Henry desperately needed some work. For a few years now he had been consistently acing auditions and getting roles, never a lead but never out of work. After being typecast one too many times as bitchy twink and gay best friend he was ready for something else.
Unfortunately for the C-inching towards D-list star the industry did not care about his desire to move on. Never was he in a position safe enough to turn consistent work down. It has now been long enough since someone’s expressed any interest in having him on set that the theoretical actor has begun to search for other work.
Inches away from applying to some unenviable job out of showbiz, his phone rings. Seeing it’s his agent Jeremiah calling, Henry slams his laptop shut and bashes his phone into the side of his head from the excitement. This does not distract from his anxiety at the pile of bills lying in front of him nor the fingers crossed that a solution is on the line.
“Okay Henry, I know what you said a few months back. I fought you on it at the time, after all why shoot yourself in the foot when you’ve got a mouth to feed.”
Henry’s halfway to agreeing and begging his agent to send his resume to every shitty teen drama and made for TV movie out there before he hears Jeremiah continue, “But, I think this little gambit might have paid off. The studio apparently asked for you by name, my friend!  Of course there’s still auditions…”
His agent presumably continues, explaining details about the show and its production, benefits for taking the job, people who might be part of the audition process, but Henry doesn’t hear that. Despite the mail pile filled with aggressive red text still sitting in front of him, with the prospect of work on the horizon, Henry’s mind is preoccupied with what the role is. The fact that he was asked for my name obviously ringing alarm bells that he’ll be back in the circuit of playing teens at least a decade younger than himself, “so what is the part then exactly? Do you have the script?”
There’s a clear hesitation as if Jeremiah isn’t quite sure how to broach the subject, “Don’t you worry now Hen, as demanded it is not at all like your usual stuff. No screaming yaaas or clapping back to your fag hag. No, no nothing the studios y’know, want you to do.” The agent pauses and resets, putting on a saccharine tone as if he knows he’s about to pitch shit as gold.
“Okay! So all goes well, you’ll be going in for a series regular role as Brutus! He’s well- I’ll just read the casting call specs: Brutish and barely literate, this oaf has a heart of gold and mind like a sieve, loves hanging out with his bros-” With each word Henry’s face scrunches tighter. Eventually he has no recourse but to interrupt his agent.
“Jere? What the fuck is this? They asked for me, specifically to come in for this? Is this some kind of a joke?” There’s another pause before Jeremiah releases the telltale sigh of a man at the end of his rope, “Look, Hen. Kid. I get it, you got these big ideas about dream roles and artistic integrity, but you gotta understand. This is what you got, what we got. You know the agency’s breathing down my neck about cutting dead weight. I- Look, you don’t gotta take the gig if it’s no good, but if you’re not willing at least hear ‘em out. I mean shit kid, you’re the one who asked for new ground yeah?”
Were his piling bills and draining savings not enough of a wakeup call, Jeremiah’s words were. Maybe it’s ironic casting, or an animated project, Jere probably said as much earlier when Henry tuned him out. He doesn’t really have a choice. After a prolonged groan, Henry pinches the bridge of his nose and gives in, “Ugh fine- whatever. Just send me the details and I’ll, I’ll do my best.”
Ever the professional, and hearing his client despondent,  Jeremiah shifts gears yet again, “Aces kid. Gonna be a star yet, remember they wanted you. They need you not the other way around. Sent you the information, let me know how it goes. Phone’s always on me.”
The audition is early the next morning, earlier than the actor usually prefers to be awake. The call said something about Brutus being an early bird which, whatever. Henry’s well past the luxury of getting to do what he usually prefers. He briefly tossed over dressing up in character, though checking his wardrobe there is simply nothing that would fit the bill of Brutus.
Instead, he just cleans up as he always does and heads out the door. Wearing a button up and borrowed shoes, with each step closer to the studio he must continually remind himself that they asked for him specifically. For reasons he can’t understand. For reasons he will hopefully understand soon. His questions certainly aren’t answered when he arrives.
Before the actor even enters the lobby the receptionist rushes to greet him, “You must be Henry Harris! We’re so excited to have you in today!” Escorting him to the elevator, Henry is on edge at just how much the secretary seems to be fawning over him. In between what can only be deliberate attempts at massaging his egon Henry catches a few strange remarks, ‘can’t wait to see what you become’ ‘hope you brought a change of clothes.’
It is upon this bizarre encounter Henry reflects as he rides the slow elevator up to the casting office. There he almost recoils away from the door as he’s greeted by another secretary, almost identical to the first who treats him similarly bizarrely. Frequently eying up the actor like a slab of meat, tossing cryptic wanting flirtations as they go. “Here we are! Director Marlowe’s office. Hope you have a productive meeting in there Brutus!”
Henry sneers at the strange escort, “It’s Henry.” For the first time he notices the glassy, almost mechanical look in the eyes of the secretary. Despite being too chatty in their time together, at this his guide simply tilts his head with a grin before turning away and wandering back towards the elevator. Under his breath Henry complains, “Ugh, already ready to write this whole thing off.”
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“Mr. Harris, Henry, do come in!” Henry flinches as he turns to find the bearded tank of a man behind him. Welcoming him into the office with an outstretched hand, Henry shifts into his poised polished self and offers his own dainty hand to shake. “You must be, Director Marlowe? Thank you so much for having me in today! I simply cannot wait to see what you have in mind for me. This Brutus character is absolutely the kind of role I’ve been waiting for.”
The director’s wide toothy smile only grows wider as his face betrays nothing besides a desire to get this process started, “Please come in, come in young man, have a seat.” The director leads Henry to a cozy chair opposite his desk before going to sit down himself, “Of course Henry, after all what actor wouldn’t be excited at the idea of a role made for them in mind. Though let’s cut to the chase. You must be wondering why in the world we came to you for this role hm? Quite the leap from twink-phenom to thoughtless gym rat is it not?”
Henry was on the backfoot from the first moment he saw the man, his dark eyes and darker, well-groomed beard were more than enough to set the actor on edge. Now that the man has directly addressed the one line of question that has been preoccupying his thoughts from the moment he heard the name Brutus, Henry is not sure what his next move is to be.
Easily catching the smallest break in the actor’s facade, the director pounces, “Worry not Mr. Harris! Whatever questions you might have will surely be answered by the time you leave today! For starters though, I hope you won’t mind signing a small NDA and consent form? We’re trying something experimental with this show and we can’t risk the exciting details getting out early. I’m sure you understand.” 
Only now does Henry notice the contract sitting in front of him on the desk. This isn’t his first rodeo though and he’s no fool, his eyes narrow at the document and he begins to open his mouth to assert that he’s not going to even humor signing a document without legal advice. Though just as soon as the thought appears he’s reminded how lacking he is in funds for a lawyer. His desperation and curiosity begin to mount his waning caution.
Marlowe raises his hands, feigning sympathy, “Oh of course, by all means if you want to go through the document with a fine toothed comb be my guest, we also have a legal team on site should you need clarity.” The director has a few more droll lines planned on how excited they would be to have Henry on board, perhaps even revealing some of his hand to further entice the actor. Though this is unnecessary as the actor’s apparently even more desperate than they had assumed. 
Biting his lip and already kicking himself for the foolhardy action, Henry Harris signs on the dotted line. Caught off guard, the director frowns in surprise, “Well! Just like that is it? I do believe we can start this process outright Henry.” He reaches and tidies up the paperwork before filing into his desk. Templing his fingers his wide smile returns as he looks down at the actor who nervously stares off into space. 
“The network wants to try something new. I’m sure you’re aware original content is suffering on streaming and the powers that be are tired of finding new creatives. My solution is simple: mold actors into characters so truthful to themselves that the creation of content is simply second nature. Does this make sense to you Henry?”
Having signed away at least some degree of autonomy, wholly unaware just how deep a commitment he just made, Henry decides to focus on the matter immediately at hand, sighing. “Sure yeah. Why me? This guy’s supposed to be a gym bro right? I mean, just look at me!” Motioning towards his pale, purposefully thin body Henry scoffs before looking at Marlowe. 
The director’s expression shifts severe, chiding. “Now Henry. This negative self-talk, don’t you think it’s unbecoming of Brutus?” Henry reflexively rolls his eyes and scoffs, as he is wont to do. Or no, he tries to roll his eyes and does not. He tries to scoff but instead he finds himself nodding, agreeing. Brutus wouldn’t talk about himself like that. 
He glares at the director as underneath thoughts of Brutus slowly flowing into his mind, he realizes something greater than himself has happened. Something sinister has begun to influence his thoughts and he must understand the rules before it is too late. Having spent a solid chunk of change at drama school he is well aware of Faustian bargains. The director simply grins, exposing too-white teeth, “You were saying Hentry?”
Henry’s mouth squirms as the name hits him like a punch. He knows it was deliberate, he knows it is not his name. He struggles to decide if he should dispute it but instead plays along, clinging to his years of experience at keeping up the act. “Sure. Mr. Marlowe, I am of course quite excited to see where the studio goes with this. As you know I will do my best to fill Brutus’ shoes with aplomb. I love a challenge, and playing this character will be more than interesting.”
Pleased, the director sees blood in the water, “Ah yes. His shoes you say, now what size shoes would those be.” Henry, Hentry? hesitates, struggling to play whatever sick game of 4d chess this is. His attention flicks down to his shoes and he discovers just how supernaturally outmatched he is. He knows he’s a size 8.5. He squeezed his feet into size 8 shoes he borrowed from his corporate friend forever ago for this audition, so it’s no wonder his feet feel a little squeezed.
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This does not explain how his feet seem to be pushing against the shining leather with each passing second. Hentry’s hand flies to his mouth as he gasps at his feet bursting the seams of his friends shoes. His shock is displaced by grunting pain as toes burst from dress shocks and shoes he does not have the money to pay his friend back for are left tattered on the floor. He feels his soles stretch wider than the soles as his toes splay further, flexing from the pain as they surge onto the carpet of Marlowe’s office. 
Clinging to reality in the wake of this impossible happening, pushing down the visceral bizarre feeling of his feet growing, stretching against socks before bursting from their containment, Hentry finds himself hung up on how much those borrowed shoes cost. Somehow making him more anxious than the fact his body has changed beyond his control. Drawing his attention more than the feeling of thicker soles and a wider foot flexing out of his control. Then from some recess of his mind comes a ripcord. What’s the problem? Why was he wearing dress shoes anyway, surely he should be wearing his gym shoes like always.
To the delight of the director, Hentry’s eyes shift slightly duller as he stares blankly at his feet as shoes begin to reform. The actor doesn’t hear the sound of leather stretching to hide his newly massive feet, doesn’t see as the tanned leather shifts to cheapening fabric, new laces bursting forth and knotting a few times over as the cheap shoes still struggle to contain feet that absolutely do not wish to be contained.
“Much of a runner are you Hentry?” The actor slowly shakes his head, uncomfortable with the memories that begin to surge through it. Clenching his jaw he can’t prevent his mouth from answering, his voice sloppy and slow, “y-yeah. Sometimes I’ll jog, I think? Gotta get the blood pumping before an- umph!-” Whatever admission of gym time that was surely coming is cut off as Hentry forces his arm into his mouth, doing everything in his power to prevent himself from finishing the sentence. 
The wheels have been set in motion however as, sticking out from well-worn ratty gym shoes, slightly discolored socks begin to worm their way up his legs. Launching up past his smooth ankles they struggle to reach too high as new muscular legs begin to form. Eyes determinedly ahead at Marlowe can’t help but steal a glance downward as his calves begin to itch and burn. His mind races with new memories of running on treadmills and down streets as his legs surge larger. New muscle fibers and thick curls strands sprouting forth with every must-be artificial memory. 
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They flex in place as Hentry sits there. His calves bulge larger with every faux flex, soon enough they’re the size of baseballs yearning to burst from his dress pants. There’s no risk of this however as his pants rapidly pull up into shorts, exposing the hairy calves to the cold air of this corporate studio. They are however not nearly fast enough on the draw to make it unscathed as thighs larger than his waist begin to bulge into existence.
The chair creaks under the weight of his legs alone as his pale thighs send a few tears into his new gym shorts. Marlowe’s eyebrows raise in shock as he seems almost impressed. Seeing this, Hentry is unsurprisingly of two minds, though for their varied reasons they both yearn to address their boss’ surprise. Jaw slightly sore from pain, he removes his arm and allows his mouth mobility once more. His original self thoroughly convinced that the director's simply so impressed at how well he’s fighting back, Hentry can’t help but try and get a dig in. “Betcha didn’t think I’d put up such a fight huh big guy?”
Perhaps a sign at just how much his mind has been eroded already, Hentry fails to see through the truly pathetic performance Marlowe gives, “My my Huntry! Indeed my terrible powers have been unable to change you at all! Perhaps it is the strength of your legs that allow you to stand so strong in the face of my wicked ways!” He does a twee flinch back, leaving one eye locked on the actor to see his reaction.
Arms crossed and smirking, Huntry’s eyes narrow as he finds himself agreeing with Marlowe, that is after the name of course. His name is, uhh. Doesn’t it start with a B? His eyebrows knit together as he skips past this and tries to find what else is bothering him from the director’s words, his legs are built? He works hard for them after all? Squirming in his chair he feels his powerful ass push him higher as he fights the urge to stretch. 
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Failing to hold back, he grunts as he stretches taller. His dress shirt coming untucked from the elastic waistband of gym shorts they had no right of being tucked into to begin with. Midriff exposed it is clear that changes have not arbitrarily stopped at his lower body. Across his thin torso muscle has begun to pack on from nothing. His clumsy fingers scratch at his waist as a treasure trail begins to prickle up and decorate his new lowest rung of abs. 
Eyes closed, Huntry’s mind is totally distracted by the pleasure of his body burning as it grows. Forgetting himself and where he is, Huntry feels his cock pulse as the growing pains of his massive form feel decidedly pleasurable. Feeling the beginning of new muscle on his chest his tight lips twitch into a grin as nipples larger and more sensitive are dragged against his button up by a growing chest.
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In no time at all, under the frequent barely quieted moans of delight, his sleeves are strained by biceps  that must have taken years to grow. His blue balls become much more of a problem as he feels the fabric begin to tear, thick arms wholly outsizing the tight sleeves by an order of magnitude. Raised in a flex his veiny biceps send tears down the length of his sleeves as they refuse to be held back. As they refuse to be the scrawny twigs that they may have once been.
Huntry bites his lips he feels pre begin to stain his briefs, no, his jock. His shaky hand begins to reach down, getting so far as gracing his new thick bush of pubes before his quest for relief is interrupted  by the director clearing his throat. “Mr. Buntry? If you recall, we were in the middle of your audition?”
Buntry snaps back to attention, gasping in shock in a deeper voice at having been in such a compromised position in the middle of something so significant. His slightly thicker brows, now jutting out ever so slightly over his eyes, furrow again as he realizes he isn’t embarrassed. Though- why should he be. He’s just a dude, sometimes you gotta adjust right? Yeah. A dumb smile plasters its way across his face as his jaw thickens, his pretty boy appeal falling to the wayside as he shifts to become not quite leading man material, but someone who could easily play a soldier, a goon, a brute. “Whaddya need from me next boss man?”
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Shaking his head Marlowe is shocked at just how well this has gone, “I believe you were about to take off your shirt. This is after all quite a physique intensive role if you recall.” Buntry guffaws and scratches his chest, seemingly pulling his pecs larger with every pass of his clumsy, calloused fingers. “Why didn’t ya say so boss huhuh!” He goes to unbutton the shirt before stupidly groaning as he finds obviously he’s not wearing a button up. 
The sleeveless garment has turned into a tank, slightly stained around his pits from deodorant that was instantly rendered obsolete by his heady musk, joined by a dark sweaty patch in the center of his massive chest. Eyes caught up on the strained shirt, he gulps as he tries not to get distracted by his pecs overhanging, by the unmistakable hard nipples showing through the tight top. Barely hanging in there, he gets his fingers under the hem of the shirt hugging his abs and yanks. It gets stuck over his head and he laughs again, trapped in a prison of his own design, pits exposed to the open air as thick curls blossom further from his underarms.
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Marlowe’s smile flickers as he wonders if this process was almost too effective. Lost in thought he watches as Buntry stands and struggles to escape, knocking over the chair behind him. Eventually the shirt tears before coming off and the brute guffaws once more, “Sorry boss! Guess I don know my own strength huhuh!” Free from the shirt however, he does what he has done in every audition he can recall and begins to pose. 
Sweat courses down from his hairy pits and shines across his burly chest as he flexes and awaits Marlowe’s feedback. The director’s hitherto constant smile flickers as he wonders how he’s going to be able to run a set with a man who can scarcely find two two brain cells to rub together. Lost in thought he loses track of his polished persona and thorough plan and speaks aimlessly, sniffing the air he complains, “Do you smell that?”
The jock pauses his performance and turns to look at his own pits, bending his thick neck down he laughs and confirms that it’s him. “Huhuh Sorry bro! Thought you wanted me to come au natruale y’know! You’re always saying you want the real Brutus! Well here he is huhuh! Hup!” Grunting he launches into a most muscular, crab pose. 
Marlowe’s eyes widen as the actor refers to himself as Brutus. Clicking his tongue, the director can’t help but feel this has gone off the rails somehow. The plan was to create a perfect combonation of actor and character, but clearly something has gone awry, whispering ‘god damnit’ under his breath, Marlowe forces a smile back on his face as he addresses the man who has yet to stop posing, flinging sweat across the room with every clearly practiced adjustment. “Bunt- er Brutus, yes? Would you mind taking a load off?” 
The new bodybuilder smirks and nods with a “Yuh! No problem boss huhuh!” The director feels a migraine coming on as he sees the behemoth crash to the floor as he sits in a chair that can absolutely not hold his weight. “Oh shit! Sorry Mr. Marlowe!” His mouth is hanging vacant as he struggles to lift his impossibly heavy form. Panting as he often is, when Brutus stands he opts to take a load off on the directors desk.
“Pardon my asking, Brutus. But you are an actor, are you not?” The massive man scratches his defined jaw as his face finishes its transformation into a face that could sell any schmuck some protein powder, “Yeah guess you could say so? I’m always puttin’ out content y’know? Definitely a star huhuh.” A gym influencer? That Marlowe could work with. He temples his hands as he schedules a date to potentially give this process another go. See if they can’t bring back some of Henry’s refinement. These things are complicated after all.
Just to test the waters before concluding this ‘audition,’ Marlowe opts to toss out one final question, “Does the name Henry mean anything to you Brutus?” 
In response the man lights up, “Yeah! Course it does boss! That’s my- uhhh?” Somehow the perpetually confused man looks even more confused for a moment, scratching his balls he holds back from smelling his hand in front of the director before continuing, “‘S that my last name boss? Do I got one of those?” Marlowe waves off the questions, foolish of him to try that. 
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“Let’s get you to the locker room hm, Brutus? The young man outside should lead you to the setup we have on site.” Without a second thought Brutus sprints out the door, like a dog chasing a squirrel. He runs right past the secretary, apparently already knowing his way around. Marlowe’s phone vibrates as he sees a text that the next actor is apparently on the way up. Some angsty goth who the network has requested to audition for the role of the show’s rich prep.
Hearing heavy footsteps racing down the hallway he wonders if they are biting off more they can chew. No matter though, these are not his calls to make. Still he sighs to himself as he checks the notes for his upcoming meeting, another tall ask, “No rest for the wicked,” Marlowe complains as a pale frowning form is ushered out of the elevator. This time perhaps he’ll try and take it slower.
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wandaslittlelove · 8 months ago
Text
Forever?
Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader
Warnings: A little angst
Flashbacks
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After the last trial which had involved a lot of singing everyone had decided to rest. Your head lay in Rio’s lap as she softly petted your hair. It had been so long since the both of you had gotten the chance to rest with constantly having to collect souls and giving the gift of life. Rio being death meant she didn’t need to rest or breath or even eat but she still occasionally did those things. But with you being life you had to do many things mortals did. Given you did not have to do it often.
Across from you both Agatha sat watching silently. It had been a long time since she last saw you both. The last time she had seen you both was centuries ago. It wasn’t long after Rio had to take Nicky. You had wanted to apologize and tell her how he was doing.
“Aggie” You whispered as you stood behind her. Rio was a couple steps behind you. She had a feeling this wasn’t going to go well.
“Why are you here” Agatha spoke with a venom in her voice that you had never heard before. You shift awkwardly.
“Nicky he-” You were cut off by a sting on your cheek. Bringing your hand up you looked at her in shock. Rio stepped forward protectively. She may love Agatha but the bond the two of you shared was something special.
“Don’t you ever speak his name again. If I could kill you I would. I hate you. Both of you.” Her words were laced with venom as she spoke. It felt like knives burying themselves into your chest every time she spoke. “I don’t know why I ever loved you” With that she walked away. Leaving you standing there as Rio held onto you. You knew she was hurt too.
Now watching the both of you she couldn’t help but feel a pang in her chest. You both looked peaceful in each other's embrace. Something she had envied when the three of you were together. The both of you had loved her deeply and never made her feel left out but she knew that you both would always have a bond she wasn’t a part of. Bound together by great forces.
Glancing back she watches as you stir slightly and Rio whispers soft words to you. Your powers were a mysterious thing. You could create life. You watched over everything living and got to hear the dreams of others. You could see people's paths but you were never able to interfere. With your powers came a price though. Nightmares plagued you constantly. You could never rest peacefully.
Her eyes drift from you up to Rio who was still whispering to you. Although Rio was death she was quite soft with you and her when they were together. Rio often had a hard time sympathizing with others. She had been the one to take Nicky's soul and lead him to the afterlife. Had been the one to take him while she was sleeping.
Her gaze quickly flew away from you both when Rio had looked up at her but after a few seconds her gaze drifted back. Rio was still looking at her as her hand continued sliding through your hair. You laid still. Your eyes shut as you curled into Rio.
“How long are you back?” Agatha asked as she brushed the hair out of your face. You were laying in her lap as the three of you sat in the forest.
“Only a couple days. Maybe less” Rio answered. There was no telling how long you both could stay but the three of you always hoped it would be long enough. Agatha’s hand fell to your side as she pulled you closer, her other hand reaching out for Rio who gladly took it and leaned into her side.
“I love you” She whispered to the both of you as she let herself relax in your presence.
“I love you” Rio whispered as you know had your eyes open looking up at her. Agatha watched the interaction. How Rio gave you a real smile and how you reached out for her. Her gaze falls over to Teen who was resting peacefully on the makeshift bed. He almost died today. Her smile falters.
“If you do this I’ll hate you forever. Please my loves” Agatha cried as she leaned against the tree all sweaty. You could feel her baby slowly slipping away. The life and warmth of him is fading. You watched as Agatha’s eyes found yours “Please”
She looked at you both again. She wanted to be over there with you both. Joining in on the whispered words and feeling both of your embraces but she wouldn’t let herself. Her heart is aching for the both of you but her mind is still filled with hatred.
“Nicky?!” Agatha called out desperately into the woods as she chased after him. She stopped though when she saw the sight in front of her.
You were kneeled down as you inspected a wound on his knee. She watched the golden light slip from your fingers onto him and then his wound was gone. She watched as he went to thank you but instead let out a loud cough. Looking up she saw Rio behind a tree and suddenly she felt sick.
“Nicky come on” She shouted, making herself known. Nicky quickly ran over to her and grabbed her hand while apologizing for running away. She looked back at you and watched your eyes light up as you looked at her. It had been years since the three of you last saw each other. Agatha constantly avoided the both of you any way she could. You opened your mouth to speak but Agatha turned away and started walking.
Agatha’s breath caught in her throat the second you looked at her. So many memories were coming back full force and she could feel her walls tumbling. Without thinking she stood and made her way towards you both. There were no words as she dropped in front of you both. No words as she brought both of you into a tight hug. When the three of you pulled away her hands rested on both your faces.
“I'm so sorry. I love you”
“I’m so sorry. I love you” Agatha whimpered as she reached out for the both of you. You both stood frozen as you stared at her stomach. You could feel another life inside of her. You and Rio were only gone for a month and she had-
“My love’s please it was an accident” She went to reach out for you but Rio stepped in between you both. She was hurt. How could Agatha do this?
“Please forgive me” She cried.
“Please forgive me” She whispered as she held onto the both of you tightly. In a flash you had thrown yourself into the witches arms as tears began rolling down your face. Her arms were quick to wrap around you as she held you close. Glancing up at Rio she watched as she hesitated before nodding.
“I love you. I love you” She cried. The other witches had all woken up by now and were shocked at the sight in front of them. “I want you both forever” Her hands cradled your face as she kissed you. Once the both of you pulled away she pulled Rio into a kiss.
“We’ll be together forever right?” you spoke into the quiet of the night. Your back was resting against Agatha’s front and Rio was leaning into her side.
“Forever. And when I die I’ll be both of yours for eternity” Agatha whispered as she held both of you. Rio chuckled at her words and cuddled further into her.
Forever Agatha thought as she looked at the both of you.
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mywritersmind · 8 months ago
Text
THREE DAYS. TWO CONFESSIONS. - KA12
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summary : A pair of flirty teens with rich parents and talent running through their blood. In three days of running into eachother in black and red, the pair seem to come to the conclusion that maybe their jokes aren’t too far off from the truth.
listen up : suggestive jokes. dual pov!! mutual pining! banter! kimixbearman!reader. idk apparently i have a thing for wrong kimi x photographers
word count : 3740
⋆。‧˚⋆
I’m staring at him.
He’s talking to an engineer from Mercedes, leaning against a table with his arms braced against it. Fuck his arms. Tan and veiny, gripping the table.
His curls bounce as he nods, his jaw moving as his words meet the open air. I bring my camera up to my face, peering through and snapping one shot. One for myself.
One of him.
Kimi turns his head when I take the photo, the confused look on his face changing, the corner of his lip quirking upwards.
He excuses himself, walking over to me while slipping his hands into his pockets, “Antonelli.” I nod.
“Bella.” He says it as if it’s any other word, yet the weight of it hangs above me like a knife.
He’s called me ‘Bella’ ever since I caught him talking to his friend in italian two years ago. He was explaining who was in the group photo we took at Prema and he said, “The pretty one to the left is Y/n.”
In the moment, my heart did a funny flip, but I played it off and am now stuck with him calling me ‘Pretty’ in his favorite romantic language.
“Saw your face when Lewis radioed.” I fake a frown, “Don't want the car anymore?”
He stays calm and collected, his accent hitting me once again, “It’s like you don’t want to see me every weekend next year.” He frowns, “I know you better than that.”
I cross my arms, looking up at him, “Do you?”
“If I wasn’t there, who would you bully?”
A small smile breaks my cool exterior, “True. My brother isn’t as easy as you.”
He bites his lip, shaking his head, “Ollie is a project for both of us to bug.”
⋆༺
I’m in the Ferrari garage for the majority of the day, practice going smoothly and my day getting increasingly boring.
I end up walking over to Ollie as he gets out of his car, “My speedy brother!” I smile as he pulls his helmet off, the same grin he has everytime he gets out of a car.
“My snappy sister.” He greets me as I raise a brow. “Oh! Later today I'm going over to Kimi’s room so I can’t get dinner with you…” I frown, “Sorry! Guys night. Jack too.”
I cross my arms, “How are the three of you already pissing me off and your season hasn’t started yet?” Ollie just laughs and shrugs, leaving me in the pitlane.
I continue my walk, taking some more photos even though I'm technically supposed to focus on Ferrari pics. I see Kimi in the Mercedes garage, talking animatedly with Lewis.
I pull myself away because too many times I’ve gotten caught looking at him.
I continue my walk to see Jack Doohan standing alone, “Jack!” I smile as I approach him.
He grins a toothy smile, “Y/n! Long time no see!”
“Shit, yeah! How’ve you been?”
“Great! This weather is worrying me though.” I look up to the blue skies, frowning, “I have a feeling.” Jack and his ‘feelings’ are well known in the paddock.
“Well, if it does rain i’m calling for a singing in the rain moment!”
“I’m thinking more of Tom Holland and an umbrella.” I let out a loud laugh, reaching out to touch his arm.
“I’m so in! I can definitely find a black wig and leather.” He shakes his head, his gaze flicking past me.
I turn instinctively. Kimi is looking at us, his face blank but soon turns into a soft smile and a wave. Jack waves back but Kimi doesn’t look at me, just walks back into the garage.
I make a face, turning back to Jack, “Weird.” He laughs out loud, staring down at me, “What?”
Jack just shakes his head, “I’ll see you later, Y/n.”
⋆༺
KIMI
The guys somehow found three old gaming controllers and hooked them up to the TV. Ollie and Jack are screaming at each other as I grab the ice bucket, “Hey! Grab me a candy bar?”
“Oh! And some crisps!” Jack cuts in. Rolling my eyes, I grab some cash and slip out the door.
As I walk down the hallway, I’m humming a stupid one direction song that Ollie got stuck in my head. The hotel is nice and I pause when I walk past the window.
Brazil stares back at me, the darkness isolating the few lights that are still on. I pull myself away from the view and continue humming and walking to the ice machine.
I stop my noise as soon as I turn the corner, seeing a girl standing with her back facing me, and her foot repeatedly hitting the vending machine.
She’s in pink low waisted flared sweats, and what looks like a formerly oversized shirt, cut into a crop and off the shoulder top.
“Fuck!” She yells again, this time placing her hands on the machine.
“Y/n?” I don’t mean to scare her, but she jumps. “Sorry. You need help?”
She looks hopelessly between me and the machine, crossing her arms over her bare skin, “Yes. This stupid thing ate my money!”
I can’t help but smile at her anger, her face is red and her hair looks like she’s shoved her hands through it a million times.
I quietly nod, peering into the box and seeing the stuck candy. I put my money in, buying a packet of strawberry cookies that do exactly what I hoped.
When the pack falls, it knocks her candy right out. “My savior.” She jokes before bending down and reaching into it. My gaze flicks down to her ass, the curve of her waist and her skin on display.
When she stands, I finally see her candy. It’s a chocolate bar with some sort of nuts and she looks ecstatic to finally have it in her grasp.
“Thank you!” She hands over my cookies that I hope Ollie will eat, “How’s the boys night going? They put you on errand duties?” She laughs a bit, a sound I wish I could bottle.
I scratch the back of my neck, “Yeah… What are you up to tonight?”
She shrugs, “Movies, going through pictures, snacks, crying. The usual?”
I let out a breathy laugh, “Why are you crying?”
“I miss my cat.”
“Mmm, peppermint.” I swear she almost starts crying right there. But she takes a breath, “You alone?”
It’s like a switch flips and she’s suddenly looking up at me like I'm more than some kid from karting. She bats her eyelashes, “I don’t have to be. Ditch the guys, I'm watching the princess bride.” I frown, I do love that movie.
“As appealing as that sounds… I think your brother would have an issue with that.” Her lips quirk into a slow smirk. God I love her lips.
“Tell them you got lost. Or kidnapped!” she steps a bit closer, “You really gonna turn down my invite?”
Fuck. Actually fuck. Fuck Ollie for having such a hot sister and fuck her for being so damn convincing. “You’re making it really hard for me.”
She doesn’t miss a fucking beat, raising a brow innocently, “Making more than one thing hard?”
I bite my lip, shaking my head, “You’re funny.”
She doesn’t break eye contact, “I aim to please.”
“You’re gonna get me in trouble, Bella.” I see her flirty facade break when I call her that. She likes it and I like that I can make her blush like that.
She flips her hair over her shoulder, “There’s this thing called self control.
I run my tongue over my teeth, “Trust me. I know a thing or two about it.” She looks satisfied at my answer, “Is this gonna come back to haunt me?”
She blinks innocently, backing up, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
I groan, watching her sinister smirk as she leaves, “Bearman…”
She mocks me, laughing, “Antonelli.” I want her to say my name a million times in a million different ways.
I nod slowly, “Have fun crying!”
“Have fun thinking about me!” She blows a kiss before disappearing around the corner. I want to chase after her and keep our conversation going forever.
Instead, I buy a bag of crisps and a chocolate bar. Walking back to my room, all I can wonder is why the universe continues to test me with my best friend's bloody sister.
⋆༺
YOU
I bounce around the paddock, RAYE in my headphones and my camera in hand. The sprint is over and after some dramatics, the rain started.
I texted Jack as soon as I saw the dark cloud, letting him know he’d be good as a prophet.
I run into Franco, he looks tired but happy to see me, “Fran!” He hasn’t been here for long, but his first day was when we met and hit it off instantly. He’s like another brother to me.
“I’m hiding from the media.” He whispers, “Anything interesting happen to you recently?” My mind immediately goes to Kimi and last night. Something about him just makes me need to mess with him.
But maybe it’s not all for fun, maybe it’s a bit of truth mixed with flirting.
“Uh oh…” Franco points at me, “You've got that look in your eye.”
I scoff, playing it off, “What look?”
“That look like something interesting did happen to you. Spill!” I’m about to say something but a figure appears next to us, clapping his hand with Franco and smiling at me.
“Norris!” I thank god for the distraction.
“What’s up?” He’s in all papaya orange, a water bottle in hand.
Franco smirks, “Y/n here was just about to tell me about her interesting life!” He crosses his arms, “Go ahead.”
“Oh?” Lando turns to me as well, standing next to Franco. I suddenly feel very ganged up on.
“I’m not telling you two anything! You’re both too nosy.”
“Can’t help but be curious. Especially about you.” Franco’s relaxed manner makes my lips crack, smiling a bit. “So tell us, who’s the boy?”
“You’re not my brother- you don’t get to ask that.”
“You tell Ollie about your boy troubles?” Lando asks.
“He’s my twin, it’s in the rule book. At least everything he won’t gag at.”
Lando laughs at this, his eyes tracking past me and I know instantly as him and Franco smile, “Kid!” Lando waves him over just as Franco catches the look on my face.
His mouth drops but I just run my tongue over my teeth, holding back my smile with my hands on my hips.
Kimi is next to me in seconds, coolly looking at me as if he wasn’t an inch away from me yesterday. “Hey.”
“So what are your intentions?” Franco comes in hot and embarrassing, my eyes widening at him.
Kimi looks confused and a little intimidated, “With…?”
I stare Franco down, my eyes wide and panicked, Lando finally understanding and breaking out into laughter.
“Next year. You gonna be okay with your friend on the grid? I mean we all saw what happened with Lewis.”
Kimi looks at me as if i’m going to be any help, “I think i’ll be okay… Y/n will probably give me more issues than Ol.”
I scoff, “Right. You’re so cocky with Merc. Do you need a reminded how Lewis is driving that car this weekend?” I tick and wave my finger, “Ollie was totally geeking out when he overtook him.”
He laughs as Lando smiles, “I say we get Y/n a car and see how she likes it.”
Kimi shakes his head, “Don't say that! She’ll go bowling and still win.”
I smile widely, “I was a menace in karting. Kimi has never had the pleasure of racing against me.”
“You’re the one getting cocky, Bella. You really think you can beat me?” I nod, knowing full well I would not beat him.
Lando and Franco both look at us quizzically, “Bella?” Franco speaks italian. Something Kimi clearly did not know.
Lando frowns, “Bella? Is that your middle name or something.” Kimi looks like a deer in headlights.
“More like a nickname.” I mumble.
Franco eyes me, “And you know what it means?”
Lando is still confused, “What does it mean!?”
We all ignore him, “Mhm.” I say as Kimi fiddles with his ring, “Anyways- I gotta go!”
⋆༺
I ignore Kimi for the rest of the day. In my mind, i’m blaming it on work as if the rain hasn’t stopped my job.
Well, I still sit in the garage and snap pictures of the same things over and over again. Charles and Carlos are pretty but become boring to look at after two hours of them sitting and staring into space.
“Y/n!” The head media manager comes up to me, “Could you go print out what I just sent you? It’s for a tiktok.” I nod, grateful for a distraction and a reason to get out of the cold.
Walking through the halls, I stare at blank walls and try to find the printer which we share with two other teams.
It’s hidden in a dark corner, the door shut. I walk in, still humming to my music when I face Kimi. I’m reminded of last night and how his humming ceased when he saw me.
He turns around when the door squeaks, “Oh, Hey.”
“They got you running errands again?” I smile, the door shutting behind me.
“You’re one to talk.” He eyes my phone in my hand, the picture pulled up already.
“Fair enough…” I walk closer to him, he’s leaning over the printer, “How long is your stuff going to take?”
“I’m assuming a while because I can’t get it to work.” My eyebrows pull together as I look at the tiny screen, my arm brushing his as I reach over and press some buttons.
I eye his arms, something that keeps acting a magnet for my eyes. Stupid driver workouts.
Kimi checks his watch, groaning, “I gotta be back soon.” I keep messing with it as he crosses his arms.
“I’m not very experienced in printers.” I shrug, turning to him, “Maybe we can borrow Haas’?” He makes a face, “It’s a printer, not a car part.”
When he reaches for the doorknob a sense of sadness washes over me, knowing we’ll be separated again.
But i’m supposed to be avoiding him! I can't make up my mind and it’s making me angry. I don’t want to be with him but I do at the same time and I'm busy and stressed and he’s so damn cute.
He turns it, except it doesn’t turn. His hand slides over it as it stays in place. He looks back at me, already panicked.
Suddenly, i’ve completely forgot about why I want to stay with him. Because all I can focus on is that I’m stuck in a tiny room with Kimi Antonelli and no fucking air.
⋆༺
KIMI
We’ve texted everyone we know, called and banged on the door, yet still… nothing.
I think she’s freaking out because her hand hasn’t left her bracelet. I sit next to her on the floor as she shivers, “I’m going to petition for a bigger warning budget.” I laugh a bit, shrugging off my jacket.
I see her gaze drop to the black bomber, “I don’t know how you’re cold because I'm getting hot.” I push the jacket closer to her and she offers a small smile and pulls it on.
I think she’s going to stay quiet, but she looks up and sighs, “Must be because I'm so hot.”
I laugh, grateful for her humor back, “Glad to know you’re feeling well enough to talk yourself up.” a small smile graces her lips again.
“The day I don’t, call the police.” She crosses her arms, pulling my jacket close to her, “Thanks.”
“No problem, I told you, you look good in mercedes merch.” She’s facing the wall across from us still, her head tilted back as she bites back a smile.
“Do I look good in Mercedes, or is it just because it’s yours?” She tilts her head towards me as a slow smile meets my lips.
“Bit of both?” I look at her. Her eyes locked on mine as they squint a bit, assessing my answer. “Mostly cause it’s mine.”
She shakes her head, looking forward again, her cheeks pink.
“Your flirting game has improved.” she teases again, “Must be all the time around me.” cocky. arrogant. and correct.
“Nah, I think it’s because I actually mean it.” I see her breathing change, her smile fading.
“Too far, Antonelli. Don’t do that.” She whispers.
“Do what?”
She sits up, turning towards me completely, “Giving me false hope.”
I blink, realizing that this is real and happening right now as we’re stuck in a tiny room, “There’s nothing false about it.” when she starts to look away from me, rolling her eyes, I scoff, “You can’t be the one upset about this. You started this!”
“I started this?” she looks shocked but her voice is still calm, “You called me ‘Bella’. You called me Bella and I didn’t even know your last name.”
“Some girls would like that I described her as I see her. And you 100% love it.” She licks her lips as I continue, “Ollie tells both of us to stop constantly. I thought you at least do it to bug him.”
“Kimi. I don’t care what my brother says that much and… If I was doing it because of Ollie- I wouldn’t flirt with you when we’re alone.”
“So you like it. So why did you tell me to stop?” I can’t quite place the look on her face, confusion mixed with… anger?
“I told you… false hope.”
“And I told you. There’s nothing false about it.” She swallows. I can hear myself breathing as she stares at me.
She stares at me as if it's the first time we met. She stares at me like she knows everything about me. She’s confusing and it’s making me so angry because we’re stuck in this fucking room and neither of us will-
I’m so caught up in my own mind that I don’t realize she’s leaning in. I don’t realize until her hand touches my jaw and her lips are on mine.
She pulls back, her eyes wide and her breath quickened. “I- Sorry.” I’m shaking my head and pulling her in before she can talk again.
She tastes like mint and smells like chocolate. My hand slips under the jacket, gripping her waist. I think I'm dreaming and if I am I don’t want to ever be woken up.
“Bella.” I whisper, my breath ragged and her smile pressing against my lips.
And then the door opens.
We pull apart so quickly that when Ollie blinks down at us, he doesn't see us. But he knows.
Y/n’s lips are red and my cheeks match it. We’re both panting and Ollie just blinks.
“Ollie.” Y/n says, her voice breaking the silence.
“No.” Is all he says before turning around and leaving.
⋆༺
YOU
Ollie isn’t pissed.
Ollie is… embarrassed? Uncomfortable? Horrified that he caught his sister and best friend making out?
We had texted him to get us out of that room and obviously I completely forgot because I was FUCKING KISSING KIMI.
I’m still warm and absolutely buzzing, but with the rain delay, I'm on extra photo duty. I edit all through the afternoon and fall asleep before I even think of texting him.
On quali and race day, I wake up way too early to my phone dead, and when I finally make it to the track, I'm working again.
With my phone a tiny bit charged, I text Kimi.
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I’m tapping my foot the whole race, cringing at every crash and mentally screaming at every red flag.
I keep checking my phone to see if Kimi has texted me but still nothing. He pops up on the TV when Lewis gets overtaken.
I don’t mean to smile, but I do.
It’s ridiculous. I’m acting like a total school girl! One day, i’m flirting and sizing him up because I thought our game was… well… just a game. Even though I didn’t want it to be. And the next, I'm kissing him and checking my phone like an obsessed freak in love.
I really do like him. And that scares me a whole lot more than I expected.
⋆༺
KIMI
I frown with the team at todays result for Lewis, but I fucking run out of the garage the second the podium starts.
I find her in the midst of chaos, her hair is wet and I can’t help but laugh. She doesn’t see me yet, but she’s making a disgusted face and peeling her hair off her face, “Bella.”
She turns just then, her face morphing into a smile, “Hi.”
“You wanted to talk?” She nods, pulling me into an empty glass room.
“I like you.”
A slow smile pulls at my lips as I lean against the table, “I like you too…”
She sighs, like all she needed was to hear that. “But i’m fucking scared because how does that even work and I always thought you flirted back as a joke and Ollie is so weird about it and I really really like you.”
I take her hand in mine, her eyes settling on me, “The first time I saw you, I told Ollie you were pretty. He then informed me that you were his twin and I wanted to die.” She laughs out loud, “But it’s more than your face, because as pretty as you are, and as much as we flirt… I like you because you’re the smartest eighteen year old I know and the only one who can make me laugh and blush simultaneously.”
Her breath slows, stepping closer so she’s standing in between my legs, “I’m sorry for being a pussy about you.”
I laugh, “I wouldn’t give up your cheesy lines for anything.” my favorite smile stares back at me. The one that I create. I poke her in the side, “You fancy me!” I mock her accent as she rolls her eyes and kisses me.
She’s sweet and perfect and my girl.
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ume17 · 22 days ago
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Memories turned sour
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multi char drabble. i wasn't planning on writing anything but I saw this reel and it just popped in my head. many wips left but whatever now. I named the son. it just felt right
warnings; fluff. suggestive content.
Your husband was always recording you and your son- watching it together, years later, the footage is not what you expected it to be
You’d always see your husband recording you and your son. Day-to-day activities like having lunch, making dinner, folding the laundry together, and sometimes even brushing your teeth. What you thought was a simple attachment and a way to capture these little moments turned out to be something way, way, way- far from the truth. 
This only came to light when your son, in his late teens, decided to view his childhood pictures stored on the family pc. What you thought would be a day full of laughter and reminiscing old times turned into your husband smiling like a madman while your son looks at both of you in disgust. 
Because, pray, why is there hours worth of footage of you- a full scan of your figure (especially zooming at the rear) - backside and front- sometimes in sweats, sometimes in your old mom jeans- sometimes your hair perfectly parted to even the times you look like you need to have at least 6 baths. All under the guise of  what looks like an innocent and memorable moment between a mother and her child. 
What is worth mentioning is how swiftly the camera moves from your son to you. A small babbling child to a grown ass woman.
“ did you really have to ruin my day?” the said child groans, “ forget my day- I think you’ve ruined all my childhood memories!!”
And if there were an award for the least bothered face in humanity, your husband should have gotten it. 
“What do you mean? Those are videos of you as a child? Did you want me to take more?” he speaks as if those videos were really what they claimed to be. “We can still continue, you are our little boy at the end of the day.”
A red face out of anger? Embarrassment? Hikaru but only storms away. With muttering
“Videos of me? Or you ogling your wife?”
Even with all this, your husband only pulls you closer by the waist, whispering,
”he’s got a bit of temper right? I think it’s time we give him a little sister to calm him down.”
He has definitely hit his head. One more push towards the headrest won’t hurt him, right?
 Pushing him, and getting up, “ get yourself checked”
“To try for junior two?”
“For a mental check-up!”
 Walking towards the kitchen, you hear something along the lines of “I’ll record more videos of the younger one!!”
-Suna Rintaro, Kuroo Tetsuroo, Kageyama tobio( idc in my headcanon he is downbad for her), SUgawara Koushi, Futakuchi Kenji, Tanaka Ryounsoke, Nishinoya yu( i really can't see him as a dad tho), Atsumu Miya, Yaku?, Oikawa Toru, Matsukawa Issei, Hanamaki, Taketora, Not tendo? or tendo? i don't really read much of his fics,
blue lock- Karasu?, oliver aiku? sue me i've never read anything past s2, Reo Mikage, sae?( i see the zooming shit but he's def not gonna be so playful bout it), chigiri??
aot- connie? jean maybe ?
there's more but i'm feeling like shit rn. I'll edit this later.
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pucksandpower · 1 year ago
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Prove Them Wrong
Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader
Summary: when an invitation to your high school reunion arrives, you are ready to throw it in the garbage … but your husband convinces you to go and prove them wrong
Happy Charles Leclerc contract extension day to all who celebrate 🫶
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The invitation arrives in the mail on a Tuesday morning. You’ve just finished your coffee and are clearing the breakfast dishes when you see it — that familiar crest imprinted on the thick, creamy stationary. Your five-year high school reunion.
Immediately, your stomach drops. You haven’t thought about high school in years, haven’t had any contact with your classmates in just as long. Those weren’t the easiest years for you. In fact, they were some of the hardest.
You were shy, quiet, a bit awkward. You never quite fit in with the popular crowd, though you longed to. Much of your time was spent alone, lost in books and music, wishing you could break out of your shell. The kids were cruel in their exclusion. You still remember the whispers, the laughter at your expense, the feeling of being an outsider looking in.
After graduation, you left it all behind without a backward glance. You built a new life, one where you finally found your place. You have a successful career, an amazing husband, a beautiful home. You’ve traveled the world, experienced things you could have never imagined as that geeky teen.
Yet holding the invitation in your hands, the old insecurities come flooding back. Could you really face those people again? The ones who looked through you like you were invisible? Who made you feel small?
You’re lost in thought when Charles comes into the kitchen. He kisses your cheek and asks what’s wrong. Wordlessly, you hand him the invitation.
He glances at it and understanding dawns on his face. “Ah, a reunion. I take it you’re not thrilled?”
You shake your head. “I hated high school. The kids were really mean. I don’t know if I can go back there and face them again.”
Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m sorry you went through that, love. Kids can be terribly cruel.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know, this might be a good chance to show them how wrong they were about you.”
You give him a skeptical look and he continues. “Think about it — you’re not that shy girl anymore. You’ve accomplished so much, you have an amazing life. Maybe going back will give you some closure. A chance to prove to yourself and to them how far you’ve come.”
“I don’t know ...” you say uncertainly.
Charles grasps your shoulders, looking into your eyes. “You are an incredible woman. You have nothing to feel insecure about. I know it won’t be easy, but I think this could be good for you. Let them see the strong, successful person you’ve become. And I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”
You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. Maybe he’s right. This could be an opportunity to flip the script, to rewrite the ending to that difficult chapter of your life.
“Okay,” you say finally. “Let’s do it.”
Charles grins and pulls you in for a real embrace now. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”
Over the next few weeks, you have moments of confidence mixed with waves of doubt. Charles is a constant source of reassurance. The night before the reunion, your nerves are frayed.
“What if they’re still awful? What if all those old feelings come rushing back the moment I see them?” You fret as you get ready for bed.
Charles takes your hands, his gaze earnest. “I know you’re scared, chérie. But don’t forget — you’re not alone now. I’ll be by your side the whole time. And if anyone says one nasty thing, we’ll walk right out that door, okay?”
You smile gratefully at him. “Okay. Thank you, Charlie. I don’t know if I could do this without you.”
He kisses you softly. “You’ve got this. Get some rest, mon cœur.”
***
In the morning, you take extra care getting ready, donning an elegant dress and styling your hair just so. Looking in the mirror, you remind yourself that you belong in these clothes, in this life.
The reunion is at your old high school, in the gymnasium. As you walk in hand-in-hand with Charles, the smells hit you first — sweat and sneakers, just like you remember. There are balloons and streamers, a table of snacks and drinks. And clustered together, familiar faces you haven’t seen in five years.
Your heart begins to pound. Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs. Then you lift your chin and step forward to greet your past.
As you scan the room, you recognize faces that used to fill the halls of your high school. Some look familiar, unchanged by the passing years. Others you barely recognize at all.
You steel yourself as a group of giggling girls comes into view — the former popular clique. Lindsay, Heather, and Bethany. Once the queens of the school, rulers of all they surveyed.
Lindsay spots you first. Her overly plumped lips curl into a smirk. “Well, look who it is. Little Y/N Y/L/N.”
You squeeze Charles’ hand tighter as that old childhood instinct to shrink kicks in. But you lift your chin and meet Lindsay’s gaze head-on. “Lindsay. Hello.”
Her eyes flick dismissively over you before landing on Charles. They widen, lips parting. Of course she recognizes him — his face is rarely out of the public eye.
“Y/N!” Bethany exclaims with obviously fake delight. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”
You allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. “Of course. This is my husband, Charles Leclerc.”
Charles gives them a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you ladies.”
The mean girls’ jaws drop in unison. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the impressed once-overs they give Charles.
Heather recovers first, plastering on a sycophantic grin. “The pleasure’s all ours! What a lovely surprise.” She touches Charles’ arm lightly. “We would love to catch up and hear all about your life, Y/N.”
You catch Charles’ eye. His lips twitch, seeing right through them.
“That’s kind of you to offer,” you say smoothly. “If you’ll please excuse us, I see some other classmates I’d like to greet.”
You steer Charles away, leaving them sputtering. As soon as you’re out of earshot, he chuckles. “Well, they certainly changed their tune quickly.”
“Once they realized they could get something from me now,” you reply wryly.
You make small talk with a few classmates, keeping it surface-level. Charles’ presence by your side is bolstering. With him here, you’re reminded that you have nothing to prove to these people. Your worth isn’t defined by their approval.
After grabbing drinks, you scan the room again. Your stomach sinks as your eyes land on a familiar figure — Brad Collins. Handsome as ever, surrounded by a gaggle of admirers.
Brad was your biggest crush all through high school. You pined for him secretly, knowing he was way out of your league. He never gave you the time of day — too focused on football, parties, and whichever popular girl caught his eye that week.
“Everything okay?” Charles asks, noticing your expression.
You nod tightly. “My old crush is here.”
Charles spots him and understanding crosses his face. He presses a kiss to your temple. “His loss, mon amour.”
At that moment, Brad looks up and notices you. His stare is cold, dismissive. He says something to his friends and they erupt in laughter, eyes cutting your way.
Your cheeks burn. Some things never change.
Charles’ jaw tightens. He takes your hand firmly and starts steering you toward Brad and his posse.
You glance at him in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going over to say hello,” he replies calmly.
“Charles, you don’t have to ...”
He silences you with a look. “Trust me.”
You swallow hard and nod. Brad watches you approach with that familiar cocky smirk.
“Well, look who it is,” he drawls as you come to stand before him. “Never thought I’d see you at one of these things, Y/L/N.”
You stare him down unwaveringly. “Yes, well, people can surprise you.”
Brad’s gaze slides to Charles, brows lifting. You can see him trying to place how he might know this handsome, expensively dressed man by your side.
“Brad, this is my husband, Charles Leclerc,” you say sweetly.
Brad’s smirk disappears. His friends gape between you and Charles.
“Husband, huh?” Brad says after a pause, regaining his bravado. “Well, congratulations. Didn’t know you had it in you to land a guy like this.”
Fury rises in you, but before you can respond, Charles steps forward. His voice is pleasant but his eyes are steel.
“Clearly you don’t know much about my wife at all. But that’s your loss. I’m the lucky one who gets to experience her incredible heart and mind every day.”
Brad flushes under Charles’ stare. An awkward beat passes.
Charles continues calmly, “I couldn’t ask for a better partner. I just hope you realize what an opportunity you missed out on back then. Have a good night, gentlemen.”
He turns, guiding you away and leaving Brad speechless behind you. Your eyes shine as you gaze up at Charles.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?”
He grins. “Feel free to tell me again. And I meant every word.” He nods over at Brad’s group, now whispering furiously. “Hopefully that wipes the smirk off his face.”
You laugh, leaning up to kiss Charles’ cheek. “This turned out to be good advice after all. Thank you for being here, for reminding me who I am now.”
The rest of the reunion passes uneventfully. You mingle, laugh, and share stories with classmates who weren’t part of the toxic popular crowd. They’re welcoming and kind. For the first time, you feel like you’re reconnecting with peers, not tormentors.
As you and Charles get into the car to drive home, you let out a long, satisfied breath. The demons of your past have been conquered for good. You faced your bullies and they’re the ones who were left lacking.
You squeeze Charles’ hand, your heart full of gratitude. “Let’s go home.”
***
The adrenaline rush from the reunion slowly fades as you and Charles drive to your hotel. You lean your head back against the leather seat, letting out a long exhale.
“How are you feeling?” Charles asks, glancing your way.
You consider the question. “Good,” you realize with some surprise. “Really good actually.”
Charles smiles. “I’m glad to hear it.”
You shake your head slowly. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t go. Thank you for pushing me to face them. It was so empowering to see their reactions, to realize how little I care about their opinions now.”
“You did all the hard work,” he reminds you. “I just gave you a little nudge. I’m so proud of you, chérie.”
Warmth spreads through you at his words. Not for the first time, you feel a rush of gratitude that this man chose you, sees you, loves you exactly as you are.
Once in your suite, Charles makes you a cup of chamomile tea and you curl up together on the couch. You rest your head on his shoulder, replaying the events of the night in your mind.
“Do you think they’ll actually learn anything from tonight?” You ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “All those kids who were so terrible — will seeing me change their perspectives at all?”
Charles considers this, running his fingers idly through your hair. “I’m not sure. Hopefully it gave them something to think about, but some people never grow out of that mindset. The important thing is that you held your head high and didn’t let them make you feel small.”
You nod slowly. “I think if I could go back and tell my teenage self that this night would come, it would have made those years a little more bearable. Knowing I would come through it stronger. That I would have you by my side.”
He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll remind you as often as you need. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’ve always had an inner strength, even if it took time to fully embrace it. Those kids certainly didn’t put it there.”
You smile up at him. “Have I mentioned lately that you always know exactly what to say?”
He chuckles. “Once or twice.”
You talk softly as the evening winds down, the tea warming you from the inside out. Your reunion with the ghosts of high school is finally behind you. It’s time to let go of the last lingering traces they have over you.
Over the next week, life returns to its normal rhythm. You throw yourself back into work, energized by a new sense of confidence and peace. Every day the experience recedes further into the past.
Until the phone call comes.
You’re just sitting down to lunch when your cell lights up with an unfamiliar number. For a moment you simply stare at it, perplexed.
After a brief internal debate, you answer. “Hello?”
“Y/N!” Lindsay chirps in an overly bright voice. “How are you, hon?”
You hold the phone away from your ear, making a face at her faux familiarity. “I’m fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask evenly.
“Well, I was just calling to see if we could get together! You know, have a little reunion of our own. I’d love to catch up outside of that whole silly event.”
You nearly choke on your water. “You would?”
“Of course!” Lindsay laughs airily. “I barely got to talk to you. And I’d love to spend more time with that charming husband of yours ...”
Ah. There it is. You have to stifle an eye roll.
“That’s … kind of you to offer,” you say carefully. “But I’m afraid our schedules are pretty busy at the moment.”
“Oh, I’m sure we could find the time!” She presses. “I would love to take you two to dinner. My treat!”
Tempting as that is, you have zero desire to spend more time with this woman, despite her transparent new interest in you.
“Appreciate the invitation, but I’ll have to pass,” you say, your tone final. “Take care, Lindsay.”
You hang up before she can protest further. Shaking your head, you go back to your salad. Some things never change.
When Charles gets home, you regale him with the bizarre phone call. He looks equally astonished.
“She actually asked you to dinner? Just to get closer to me?” He gives an incredulous laugh.
You grin ruefully. “Yep. I guess you made more of an impression than we realized.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. Then his expression turns thoughtful.
“You know what? I think we should take her up on that offer after all.”
You stare at him. “What? Why?”
His eyes glint mischievously. “Because I’d like to make it very clear what I think of people who treat you so poorly. And a free dinner out sounds lovely.”
You can’t help but laugh at his unexpected scheming side. “Look at you, getting all protective and devious! I have to admit, it would be gratifying to knock her off her pedestal a bit more.”
Charles winks. “That’s what I was thinking.”
And so, despite your better judgment, you call Lindsay back and accept her invitation to dinner that weekend.
You take more care than usual getting ready, playing up your most striking features. Charles looks unfairly handsome in his designer suit, hair perfectly tousled just to annoy Lindsay further.
When you arrive at the trendy upscale restaurant she chose, Lindsay is already there waiting. She air-kisses your cheeks in greeting, fawning over you and Charles effusively.
As the meal begins, she dominates the conversation, barely letting you get a word in. She name-drops shamelessly, trying to impress Charles with all her supposed connections.
“Oh Charles, you simply must come stay at our villa in Positano sometime! I’d be happy to arrange it for you both. Anything for Y/N’s hubby!” She titters, touching his arm.
You and Charles exchange subtle amused looks across the table. When the waiter appears for your order, Charles gives him an easy smile.
“My wife will have the scallops and I’ll take the filet. Oh, and send over your most expensive bottle of champagne, please. My treat tonight.”
Lindsay’s smile freezes. You bite back a grin, catching his eye again. Message received.
As dinner winds down, Charles finally turns the tables on her. “So Lindsay, what have you been up to since high school? Y/N tells me you two were quite close.”
Lindsay flushes, flustered. “Oh … well, you know, this and that!” She forces a laugh. “I’m in between ventures at the moment. But I stay very busy with charity work and running in social circles.”
“How lovely for you,” Charles says neutrally. “And your husband? What does he do?”
“I’m, uh, not married,” she mumbles, clearly off-kilter now.
“I see. Well, I’m sure the right man will come along someday.” He smiles placidly. “Everyone deserves to feel that kind of love, don’t you agree?”
Lindsay just nods, face pinched. You stifle a satisfied smile behind your napkin.
Later in the car, Charles grins over at you. “That was entertaining.”
You lean over and kiss his cheek. “Have I mentioned you’re the best husband ever?”
He laughs. “A few times. But I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”
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onlyquinns · 2 months ago
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I loved your story about jacks birthday and meeting the fam and i was wondering if you could like continue on with it. Maybe the second day jack and y/n go out to like a theme park thing on a pier or smth. and he’s just so deeply in love with her he can’t stop staring. something cute and fluffy yk :)
after jack’s birthday party, you’d gotten far more comfortable around his family. it was obvious that they liked you, that they were more than happy to have you at the lake house. so, it was no surprise that the boys had invited you to go to the little theme park by the pier the next day.
you and jack walk side by side, hands held between the two of you. he carries your bag for you, unashamed to have your overly decorated bag over his shoulder. he ignores the people that stare as the two of you walk by, the keychains on your purse jingling with every step. as long as he knows you’re not carrying something that he could easily hold, he’s fine.
“so, what do you wanna do first?” he asks as the two of you walk through the park opening.
you look around, a little overwhelmed with the loud sounds and little kids running around. you gnaw on your lip, eyes darting around as you try to find something familiar. jack notices immediately and pulls you to him, strong arm wrapping around your waist to ground you.
“how about we just walk around and play some games?” he suggests, pulling you to a colorful stand advertising something that looks like whack-a-mole. he turns and smiles at you, “i’ll win you something,” he teases as the two of you walk up to the carney.
the teen boy running the stand straightens at the sight of you, putting on a fake smile. “welcome! are you here to play?”
jack nods and hands over a crumpled five, enough for one attempt at hitting twenty moles until the timer runs out. you watch as he pulls your bag higher up his shoulder, giggling behind your hand. he holds the wooden mallet with determination, waiting for the teen boy to give him the go.
“3,” the boy counts down, “2… 1.”
obnoxious music pours from the overhead speakers in the little booth as the boy presses a button, bringing the stupid moles to life. jack hits every single one with one goal in mind, ignoring the people who cheer for him behind you and the cluster of kids who try to peer at the game. you watch in amusement as he hits the last one, timer blaring above him. jack cheers as his score blinks above him, a simple glance shows he’s beat the necessary score.
“congratulations,” the teen says and hands over a giant stuffed animal, pushing into jack’s waiting arms. the boy’s attention is half on jack and half on the sudden crowd rushing him, dollar bills waving in their hands.
“for you,” jack says as he approaches, holding out the plush. you giggle and take it from him, holding it to your chest.
jack watches as your smile lights up your face, your excitement making his achievement mean more than just beating some stupid amusement park game.
when you’re done squealing and cooing over the fluffy toy, jack takes it back from you and shoulders it on the same arm holding your purse. he grasps your hand again and pulls you through the park until you gasp.
“look!” you say, pointing at a pink and blue stand.
jack looks over at what you’re pointing at, and chuckles at the sight of a dingy cotton candy stand. he pulls you toward it.
“what color do you want?” he asks, swinging your hands back and forth as you approach the little stand.
“pink!” you tell him excitedly, watching with wide eyes as the worker at the stand takes a paper cone of perfectly fluffed cotton candy out of the little machine. “i’d like pink, please.” you turn to jack and smile.
jack’s ears heat at the way you look at him, bright eyed and so sweet. he pulls his wallet from his pocket and hands over a few bucks to the other worker at the register, relaying your desired color. you hum happily when the person you’d been watching hands you your cone, thanking them and jack.
jack watches as you tear into the sugary fluff, fingers pinching a piece off and popping it into your mouth. his heart beats loudly in his chest at your happy expression, your body wiggling with delight at the sweet treat. you pinch off another piece and hold it out to jack, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“oh, thank you, baby,” he says softly, wrapping his lips around your fingers.
you squeak and pull your hand away quickly, turning away in embarrassment. “you’re welcome.”
jack chuckles and watches with heart eyes as you shift in front of him, your cheeks warm and your lips tugging into a soft smile. he thinks about how cute you are, at how he’d do anything to see you like this again.
he gently tugs you to a picnic table settled closer to the parking lot, pulling you down next to him so you can enjoy your cotton candy while sitting.
you offer him another piece and jack refuses, shaking his head and saying, “i bought it for you, babe. you can have it all.” and the smile you give him is worth more than the want for the sugary treat.
jack leans against the table and rests his cheek against his hand, watching as you eat. his eyes are soft and full of love, thanking the universe for you and for the sunlight pouring perfectly over your body.
“you’re absolutely beautiful,” he says, and you turn to look at him. a piece of sugar clings to your lip, half dissolved with your spit. he reaches forward and wipes it away, licking it off his thumb.
you’re about to say something, but freeze at the sight of luke and quinn walking up to the two of you. jack turns around to see what’s got your attention and groans a little at the sight of his brothers.
“that’s not very nice,” quinn says as he settles across from jack.
luke agrees, “yeah, man. could act like you actually wanted to see us, y’know.”
you giggle and the two smile, pleased that they got you to loosen up a little. jack rolls his eyes and brushes them off.
quinn chuckles and leans forward, arms crossed atop the table. “sorry, jacky, but no pda in public,” he teases.
jack’s ears burn bright red at the implication, sputtering. “we weren’t doing anything,” he says, because it’s true.
“uh huh,” luke says, joining in on the teasing. “the way you were looking at her was way too much cheesiness for prying eyes.”
quinn snorts, and jack grabs your hand and pulls you up. jack grumbles his goodbye and tugs you away, pulling you toward more booths filled with stuffed animals and other items. his brothers laugh as the two of you walk away, the sounds of their giggles disappearing as the two of you walk further away.
“i think it’s sweet,” you say, finishing off the rest of your candy. “y’know, that you look at me so much.”
jack turns to you, “huh?”
you turn and smile at him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear at the same time jack reaches forward to brush it away. your fingers bump his and you giggle.
“to be fair,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around his. “i like looking at you, too.”
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81pastrys · 2 months ago
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Rebel
Summary— Isa sneaks out and Max has to figure out rules for her not to.
Warnings— defiant teen ; strict dad!Max ; underage drinking ; mention of alcohol sickness ; puke
A/N— this one is longer than I expected it to be
Dad Max List
Request— Helloo, could you do something angsty with teen daughter x dad max? your choice, but maybe she's done smth rebellious or what you prefer!
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“Dan please??” Isa begged on the phone quietly to her uncle. “Just one night! Dad knows!” She continued whining to where Max and Kelly couldn’t hear.
“Isa, I told you if you go out with me you need to have your dad’s permission and it sounds like you don’t.” Daniel explained. She had done this before, told Daniel she had permission to go out as long as Daniel was there when she quite obviously did not.
Daniel was in town and was going partying, which is knew he was going to do. So, she called him and asked if she could go, being 16 and all. When Daniel shot her down she started whining and begging.
When Daniel ended the call and stopped answering she resorted to her backup plan. Charles. He could never say no to Isa, even if Max scolded the fuck out of him time and time again.
Charles answered the phone with a quick greeting and Isa began her spiel. “Uncle Cha, can you come get me? Uncle Danny said I can go out but he can’t pick me up.” She sounded innocent and truthful.
“Oui, I’ll be there in 15?” He said. “If I see your window open I’m leaving.” He tried to resist the urge to just not give in, but Isa was a little princess in Charles eyes.
She smiled and ended the call, getting ready in a two piece party outfit. She had Daniel’s location along with a few other drivers, which were in the same club. She could easily pass off as drinking age and sure as hell could flirt her way into anywhere.
Max and Kelly were sound asleep, her only obstacle: Penelope. She got past her door, not wearing the heels. Perfect it was her time to shine. Charles pulled in the driveway and she walked out the front door, quietly able to lock it.
She got in the passenger seat and put the heels on. “Thank you uncle cha.” She said, dolled up and ready for the club. Charles was too, a loose fitted shirt and some slacks.
“Does Max know you’re going out?” He asked. She lied and he believed her. He knew she was going out with the rest of the drivers so that’s where they headed. It was easy getting in, an F1 driver exiting the car with a girl who looked overage? Yeah, the club had no chance.
There were no bands so she easily got hold of a drink and started dancing away. Some drivers noticed her and either smiled or gawked at how she even got there without Max present. He would never bring her out.
Her big mistake, talking with Lando and Oscar. “Isa, did you ask Max to go out?” Oscar asked her. She never lied to Oscar, he could read every single micro expression. She looked away guilty and mumbled a ‘no.’
Lando grabbed her hand and brought her over to the drivers table. Nearly every other driver present, including Daniel. He took a deep breath and set his cup down. “Isa Rose.” He said warningly.
Charles perked at her name and smiled at her. “Having fun little Verstappen?” Pierre laughed. Daniel was now walking off with his phone to his ear.
“Snitch.” She mumbled to Oscar. “I was having fun until the McLaren boys decided to ruin it.” She said out loud.
“Ruin it? You shouldn’t even be out!” Lando said. “It’s fucking 2 am and you have school in the morning.” He was yelling but to be fair school could mean college.
Daniel walked back and yanked her away. “Ow! Danny!” She whined. She was a bit drunk thanks to the drinks she kept getting. “I’m in heels slow down!” She scoffed.
“Max is not happy.” He said shaking his head. He got his car from valet and her phone was blowing up with texts and calls, silenced from the do not disturb feature she put on earlier.
Daniel drove her home in silence. Anytime she tried talking he would shush her or blatantly say to shut up. They pulled in the driveway and she got out, still drunk, holding her heels and Daniel trodding behind her.
Max was waiting in the kitchen for her. He huffed a heavy breath and held his hand out. She placed her phone in it. He started quietly scolding her but her head was spinning and she was swaying side to side slightly. All she could manage was hums of agreement.
“I don’t feel so good.” She slurred before Daniel led her to her bathroom and she puked her brains out. “Do you really need to punish me when I clearly punished myself.” She shot at him standing in the doorway as Daniel held her hair back.
“Yes, Isa. Your mother is not going to be happy about this either.” He said. “You’re lucky they were even there, what if they weren’t?” He whisper yelled.
She disregarded all his words, allowing her body to flow through the motions of alcohol sickness. Once she was done they got her in bed. Water and crackers on her nightstand.
In the morning she had a blaring headache and groaned. She drank the water and ate the crackers. Her body was itchy and she realized they never changed her clothes. She got up and did just that, comfy sweatpants and a hoodie.
Kelly and Max were waiting for her in the kitchen. It was obviously too late to go to school, Penelope was already gone it had been a few hours since she even left.
“You went out, again.” Kelly said, the anger so high she could barely hear herself. “Who brought you this time? Obviously not Daniel if he brought you home as pissed as your father.”
Isa groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Charles.” She was nonchalant, like she isn’t about to be punished for life. “It wasn’t even that fun.”
“You have been defying all of our rules Isa.” Max said. “You sneak out, you’re failing classes, is there something else going on?” He was more concerned now. “Are we not giving you enough attention from this?”
“I don’t know, I just like sneaking out and not doing my work.” She shrugged. Kelly laughed, walking off as to not piss herself off more. “I never have fun, the boys do.”
“So let me get this straight.” Max said. “I invite you to go and play padel with us, you say no. I tell you we’re going to races and you roll your eyes.” He said. “But for some fucking reason sneaking out is more fun than that?”
“I guess.” She was still calm minded and not anxious what so ever. “Penelope is always out with her friends partying.”
“Do not bring Penelope into this, she actually listens when else say she can’t go out.” Max said. Penelope was the golden child, good grades, never in trouble, and basically the favorite.
“Well then I guess it is an attention thing.” Isa said. “Penelope gets good grades and scholarships and I’m fucking nobody.” She starts tearing up at her own words.
“That is not true, Penelope has worked hard for her grades and scholarships.” Max corrected. “Penelope actually feels left out.” That’s probably something Penelope told him in confidence not to repeat but it seemed to help his stance.
“If I’m not breaking rules it’s all about her, so maybe that’s why I do it. If I can’t get praise I might as well act out to get some sort of recognition.” She stormed to her room and Max decided he needed to talk this over with Kelly.
This was not okay, one kid feels left out for being nearly perfect and the other feels neglected by them. “What do we do?” Kelly asked him.
“I mean, how do we make things more equalized between them?” He asked. “They’re very different girls.”
“Sadly one has your mentality.” Kelly joked a bit to lighten the mood. They decided it’s best they start both girls off with a clean slate. No harsh punishments but trust should be earned, not just taken for granted.
Once Penelope got home they called them both to the kitchen. They laid our ground rules and privileges they have. “We want to trust you girls, but it has to be earned. If we deem you can’t go out, you simply can’t.” Max said. “If we say you can go out we want to know with who and where and why.”
“I always tell you that stuff.” Penelope said innocently. Max and Kelly nodded at her and looked to Isa.
“You’re both starting on a clean slate, no strikes or privileges being taken away, but if one of you breaks our trust and sneaks out or defies the rules we set, those things get taken away.” Kelly ended the speech.
“I’ve talked with the boys too, no special midnight rides anywhere unless they ask me first for confirmation.” Max said. “In which I expect whoever asked them to ask me as well.”
Isa hated the fact he dragged Penelope into this after he said not to but ultimately agreed with the stupid rules. She followed them, even asked for a tutor to get her grades up.
Her instincts never died down, knowing the boys were in town and wanting to ask one of them to come get her, but she didn’t. She went to Max first.
“Dad, can I go out with the boys tonight?” She asked. He smiled at her. He was getting ready to go out with them to celebrate Lando’s birthday.
“Did you ask one of them already?” He asked her. She shook her head no and bit her lip. “I’m proud of you for coming to me first, but I think for tonight it’s going to be a no.” It was a test.
“Okay.” Isa said and went back to her room. She had no urges to text one of the other guys or sneak out on her own. She just let it be a no and went to sleep.
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Constructive parenting 🙂‍↕️
@chertik-007vvv @il0vereadingstuff @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @angelluv16 @kallanfiona
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pzweigs · 3 months ago
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artpatrick making out in a car? like when teens go to makeout creek to fool around? and obviously they arent going there for that... but one thing leads to another and then...
another one!! again, sorry for the wait! but artpatrick? making out in a car? one thing leads to another? now you’re speaking my language…
artpatrick, mrta, 2.8k, m/e
Art’s getting ready for his date with Melissa: a date that is feeling only slightly monumentous because it happens to be his first time going to Make Out Point. He doesn’t know why it’s such a big deal to him, it’s not like he’s never made out with anyone before, he’s not even a virgin, but he’s heard so many stories—mostly from Patrick—that it seems more real to be doing it there than anywhere else, like all the times before hadn’t count.
(A small but loud part of him thinks it might bring him closer to Patrick that way, to live out the tales he’s heard so many times, as if by stepping into his shoes, reenacting his moves, it’ll almost be like they’re doing it together. Or something.)
He does, also, genuinely like Melissa. She’s easily one of the prettiest girls in their year, with a great handle on her forehand. He and Patrick used to play mixed doubles with her and her best friend Becca before her and Patrick’s tempestuous breakup (He was caught making out with another girl, as is often the case). Melissa and Art had continued their casual flirtation, until she surprised him by asking him out the previous week.
Patrick had loaned him his car for the occasion, a gesture he both appreciated and was suspicious of. Suspicions that are almost immediately affirmed when he asks, just as Art is about to walk out the door: “Hey, is it cool if I tag a long?”
He pauses, looking back with his hand still on the doorknob, incredulous and amused. Not an untypical state to find oneself in where Patrick Zweig is concerned. “On my date? What, you want to spy on us in the backseat? No, dude.”
“No, man, it’s not like that. I promised I’d meet my dealer over there. It’ll only take a second, I’ll find my own way back.” Patrick’s ‘dealer’ was a country club kid burn-out who had bought too much weed at a ridiculous price this summer, and was now forced to siphon it off to his younger buddies. Whenever Art didn’t feel like smoking with him, Patrick would go off with his dealer instead, coming back hours later having done God knows what. Art didn’t like him. “C’mon. You lovebirds won’t even notice I’m there.” Patrick puts on the puppy eyes—and when that doesn’t work— lays down his trump card. “Plus, it is my car.”
Art groans, more frustrated with himself because he should have figured—and because he knows he’ll say yes. He doesn’t even know why, does know on all levels it’s a terrible idea— but he's just never been able to send Patrick away. It just seems, despite all evidence to the contrary, easier to have him around than not. Art sighs. It’s not in his blood, maybe. He swings the door open and lets Patrick trail after him, catching his blooming grin before turning away, tampering down the satisfaction in his chest that always arises whenever he makes Patrick happy.
Needless to say, Melissa is not pleased. When she approaches the car, her smile falls and quickly turns into a look of both confusion and contempt at the sight of his best friend in the middle seat where Art had delegated him.
“What the hell is he doing here?” She says as she gets into the passenger seat, decidedly not looking at Patrick.
“Sorry,” Art replies sheepishly. “I’m just dropping him off. He’s not staying.” Art says this pointedly to Patrick.
“Scouts honour.” He smiles. “How’s Becca?”
Melissa rolls her eyes and doesn’t dignify that with a response, and with that they’re on their way.
Skip to about 20 minutes later—they’re at Make Out Point, no supposed dealer to be seen, and Art and Patrick are animatedly retreading their Nadal versus Federer debate for the thousandth time before the sound of a door clicking open catches Art’s attention.
“You can’t just discount wins on hard-court, you don’t even like playing on clay—Hey, where are you going?”
Melissa is already out of the car, looking back at the two boys like she’s not sure what to make of them. “This is weird, Art. I’ve been sitting here for the past twenty minutes third wheeling you two. One of my friends is here, I’m just going to go back with them.” She throws a look to Patrick, then back at Art. “Enjoy your date.”
“Wait, Melissa—“ Slam.
Barely a minute passes before Patrick gets out of the car and takes her place without a care in the world.
“Thanks a lot.” Art complains, spitting out the words. It’s a lot easier focusing on his anger towards Patrick than his embarrassment at literally forgetting his date next to him. “You weren’t supposed to hang around, asshole.”
“Hey, man, you could have kicked me out at any time. It’s not my fault Melissa is as boring as a doornail.” Patrick picks at his nails like he’s already bored of this conversation. “And her forehand sucks.”
“Shut up, man, she’s nice. She’s a good fucking person.” Patrick rolls his eyes, incentivizing him further. “Is your dealer even meeting you here? Or were you just deliberately trying to sabotage me?”
At this scathing accusation Patrick just scoffs. “You don’t need any of my help in that department, Donaldson.” Before Art can ask what that’s supposed to mean, Patrick is all in his face, with an expression he can’t decipher. “You think I don’t know what you look like when you’re trying to seal the deal? When you want me to fuck off? You literally forgot she was here.”
Because you were having more fun with me he doesn’t need to say, it’s loud and clear in the ringing silence of the car. It’s patronizing, and embarrassing, and only the slightest bit true. He doesn’t even remember when his attention had shifted from Melissa to Patrick, because Art is always paying attention to Patrick. It’s his default state. Melissa didn’t stand a chance in that regard. Art swallows down his wince and continues riding his wave of indignation.
“Because—because you were distracting me! You aren’t even supposed to be here!”
“Then tell me to go!”
“I am!”
“It’s my fucking car!”
The two of them slump back in their seats in synchronized huffs. He doesn’t know how much time passes in silence, only the wisps of winds through trees and other giggling teens to fill in the gap. Patrick keeps rustling around, fiddling with the unbuckled seat belt, messing around with the radio, before he finally turns back to Art. He’d never been that good at stewing silently.
“Alright, I’m sorry for being a dick.”
“You are a dick.” Is all Art offers. Still, his tone is softer than it was before. Just because he’s better at staying angry doesn’t mean he likes it.
“More of a dick than the guy who forgot his date was in the car?” Patrick says, smiling at him like it’s funny. Art can’t help but laugh despite himself while his face falls into his hands, letting the embarrassment hit him. It’s a little funny. It’ll probably be a lot funnier to Melissa’s friends.
“I am never gonna live this down.” He whines.
“Sure you will.”
“How?”
“Well—You could just convince everyone you got some, anyway.”
Art raises his head with a huff of a laugh. “With who? Should we just start knocking on windows?”
“I could help you out.”
A pause, a sudden shift in mood. “Help me out?”
“Mhm.” Patrick is scooting closer again, body hitting the arm of the passenger seat. His expression is mischievous and sweet, like it always is. “I could offer my hickey services.” Art chokes on his own spit—he most definitely does not recall the time he and Patrick gave each other hickies up their arms just to see if they could. “Plus, it’s your first time at Make Out Point. It would suck if you left it unkissed.”
Art’s eyes go a little hazy, the shape Patrick’s lips had made around the word unkissed burned into his retinas, the sound of it ringing in his ears. He’s teasing, but there’s a subtle sincerity in his tone. He knows how Art had been looking forward to it, how he’s mythologized this very scenario in his head.
Still. Art’s eyes flicker down to pink lips. Unkissed. He fiddles with the collar of his pressed dress shirt, feels a wave of heat down his back—had it always been so hot in the car? “That’s, um, a good point.” Art murmurs. Thinks about Patrick saying You think I don’t know what you look like when you’re trying to seal the deal? He flushes, can’t look him in the eye when he suggests: “It might be like, bad luck or something.”
“Exactly!” Patrick’s smile is blinding. “Wouldn’t want to ruin our chances at the championship this year.”
“Right. For the championship.” They both laugh sheepishly, their reasoning threadbare, yet bringing them ever closer in spite of it.
Patrick adjusts the armrest that’d been digging into his side, then the one by Art’s, allowing space for him to gracefully make his way onto Art’s lap. Art doesn’t react except for a single, sharp intake of breath, afraid if he makes any sudden moves Patrick will laugh in his face and write it all off as a joke. He’s warm where he sits—Patrick had always radiated heat—and his weight is a comfortable one Art’s long gotten used to.
“This okay?” He asks anyway, the tiny twitch of his smile the only sign of nerves. It settles Art a bit too, that Patrick is eager, wants to fool around in a car at Make Out Point of all places with him, but he’s a little nervous too. Even in the darkness he can see the beginning of a blush on his cheeks tight to the tips of his ears. It’s reassuring, that this is a big deal for the both of them.
“Yeah,” Art responds, hands coming up to rest at Patrick’s hips. His hands slip up his shirt, thumb rubbing at the top of his hip, feeling the slightest shiver in response to his touch.
Patrick nods, biting at his lip, and it draws Art in like a moth to a flame—they lean in, and then they’re kissing. This isn’t one of his late night fantasies where he gets wrapped up in the idea of what Patrick’s lips might feel like against his own, if it would feel as good as he imagined. It’s not even close. Art’s got his best friend in his lap, kissing him senseless, and the blood is rushing to his groin so fast he thinks he might pass out.
He wraps his arms around his waist to pull him closer, big hands coming to frame Art’s face that pull him into another fierce kiss. Patrick hums and sighs into his mouth, like every time they have to part for air it pains him physically. He’d always known Patrick was a noisy kisser, noisy in general, having endured plenty of girls in their dorm after-hours. But hearing it now—his little noises of pleasure, tiny breathless pants muffled by Art’s mouth—just makes him want to pull him closer, push his tongue in deeper, consume him whole. It’s driving Art completely wild.
The kiss is immediately sloppy, it feels indecent, it kind of feels like they’re already fucking, that’s how good it is. Art’s hands dig into Patrick’s back, moaning into his mouth as Patrick’s twist into his hair. His hands grip the blonde locks like they’re controls, angling his head where he wants it and kissing him deeper, sucking his tongue like he can’t live without the taste. It’s making him hard in his jeans, getting the full brunt of Patrick’s want, finally, instead of just watching from afar. He shifts awkwardly in his seat, hips twitching, hands fisted tight into Patrick’s shirt.
Patrick pulls back with a wet gasp, lips shiny and eyes sparkling. Without taking his eyes off Art he grabs the lever next to the driver’s seat and reclines them back a bit, making it easier for him to arch into Art a little more. He feels Patrick’s dick poke at his stomach as he grinds back and forth with a bit more purpose, gasping at the feeling of sudden pleasure. Patrick looks down at him, pleased and panting, curls falling into his face.
“Like that, hm?” He says, continuing his slow grinds, voice low and ridiculously sexy. Art does like that, he likes it a lot, so much so that his brows are scrunched up in focus as he bites a hole through his lip trying not to come in his pants. The friction of his ass grinding back against Art’s dick even through two pairs of jeans is electric. Patrick laughs at his concentrated expression, breathing hard. “Feels like you do.”
Patrick’s overflowing confidence turns him on as much as it pisses him off. Art wants to throw him off kilter, take back the reins, if he ever had them. He strengthens his hold on Patrick’s hips and grinds upwards, pulling him onto him harder, and manages to get the sweetest burst of sound out of his mouth. Art smiles, triumphant, and angels for another kiss, needing to swallow those moans from the source. The soft sucks of their mouths mingle with the sounds of their movement on the leather seat, neither of them able to get enough.
Patrick comes up for air, dodging Art’s attempts to reconnect their lips with a smile as his kisses shift from his face down to his neck, working on those hickies he promised him. His teeth tease at the skin before sucking lightly, Art angling his head away to give him better access. He lets one hand shift from Patrick’s hips to his ass, the other coming around to tug at his belt tentatively. Patrick detaches from his neck to eagerly nod his approval, sitting up to work on undoing Art’s pants as the blonde manages his.
It takes a little shifting, but once their dicks meet neither of them can help the twin groans that erupt from deep within their chests. Patrick is so fucking wet from just a little kissing and grinding that he’s leaking onto Art’s stomach, just barely missing his shirt where he’s rucked it up. Art’s not much better off, he’d been soaking in his briefs the second Patrick had ground his ass back on him. But the sensation of their freed cocks rubbing up against each other is nothing like he’s ever felt, sparks going off behind his eyes as he grips Patrick’s ass tighter, humping up against him harder to matching whimpers and moans.
“W-wait, fuck, Art, lemme—” He stammers through the blinding pleasure, and grabs them both in his huge hand, stroking them together. Art’s head knocks back into the headrest, arching off the seat and into Patrick’s hand. He makes a grab for the back of Patrick’s head and smashes their mouths together in an attempt to muffle his sounds. Patrick makes a twist with his hand and Art bites down hard onto his lip, can feel Patrick’s dick throb against his in response. Fuck fuck fuck.
“Patrick.” He spits out, spinning out of control with how good it all feels, out of his mind with it. “So fucking close.” Patrick’s leaning back, hand resting on Art’s thigh as he jacks them both faster and faster, and now that he’s not sucking his face off Art can finally get a better look at him. His brows are furrowed, his mouth hanging lewdly as his entire face scrunches up with his impending orgasm, hips thrusting into his own hand like he can hardly control his own movements. It’s quite possibly the sexiest thing Art’s seen in his life.
“Oh, oh, nn, f-fuck.” Patrick stutters, every breath practically a gasp. “M’gonna—Art, m’gonna cum, are you—“
“Yeah, yeah, Pat.” He reaches his hand and grips them both along with Patrick, fingers lacing with Patrick’s as they work their way closer and closer. “Together, c’mon, Patrick, please, want to—” And he doesn’t need to say anymore, can’t really, because he and his best friend are coming in record speed simultaneously, painting their (Mostly Art’s) stomach with cum. For a moment, they just sit there, sweaty and chests heaving with the exertion.
Patrick leans over from where he’s still seated atop of Art into the glove compartment, finding some leftover tissues to clean themselves up with. “Melissa missed out, man.” He giggles at the face Art makes at the mention of Melissa now, like he’d forgotten she’d existed for the second time this evening. “You sure treated me to a good time tonight.” He says it like a joke, but the expression on his face is so happy and satisfied that Art can’t help hauling him back for another kiss.
They make googly eyes at each other as they fix themselves up, shifting clothes and wiping away any evidence of their activities. Just as Patrick is about to climb off of Art, a knock on the window has them both jumping into the air, Patrick knocking his head hard into the car ceiling.
“Patrick?” Calls out a voice, peering into the slightly steamed window. “I got your drugs, dude.” 
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loving-barnes · 11 months ago
Text
LOGAN HOWLETT - DEFEND YOUR HONOUR
A/N: And another one-shot with my precious Logan. This has angst and some fluff. Enjoy!
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant! female reader
Warning: angst, some fluff
Words: 3700+
Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)
FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST
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LOGAN HOWLETT - DEFEND YOUR HONOUR
It was a wild, exhausting day. Well, more like five days. The last time I visited my parents was almost a year ago. They knew nothing about my new life, only the lies I told them.  That’s why I didn’t have time to see them as often as they wanted to. 
I missed them. That’s why I came back. I thought my short vacation with them in my home town would be without incidents and fights. Oh how wrong I was. 
It was eleven in the evening. I was sitting on the front porch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. The night was cold. Autumn hit with full force. I wished I could return to the place where I felt more at home. Unfortunately, the school was over four hours drive away from my hometown. 
I had my phone in my hands, contemplating whether to call the person who could make me smile or not. My eyes were on the contact name, and I was not sure whether to press the button or forget about it and head back to bed. It was too late for a phone call even when I knew he’d be up. After a couple of deep breaths, I decided to tap the screen and call my boyfriend Logan. 
<< Hey baby. 
Hearing his voice made me smile. Logan picked up the call quickly. “Hi. I hope I didn’t wake you up.” 
<< No, of course not. I’m reading that book you got me before you left. Damn, good choice, baby. 
I laughed. “Yeah, it’s that good? Glad you like it. Maybe I’ll get you to read more. Even if they are historical memoirs or anything that has to do with history. We could start our own club, just the two of us.” I heard him laugh. Quickly, he changed the topic.
<< So, how’s the visit going? Everything good? 
I sighed, not knowing what to say to him. I didn’t want to complain. I already told him something about my parents - how they treat me even when they care about me. My relationship with my family was complicated. “It’s okay,” I said simply. “It’s okay. Really, okay.”
<< One more and I’ll believe ya.
“It is what it is. I always believe it’ll be better and it’s not,” I admitted. “Only two more days and I’ll head to the mansion. I have the bus tickets and everything planned to get back.” 
<< What happened, darlin’? You know you can talk to me.
“I know,” I kept shaking my head, nodding to no one. “I just don’t want to complain. I hate complaining. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” 
<< I get that you hate it. But maybe it’s time you did complain a little. I am here for you, darlin’. I’ll listen and we can talk about it. I don’t want you to feel miserable. Just… can’t believe you decided to visit them when they treat you like shit. 
He was right. They always treated me like shit. As an only child, I was the black sheep of the family. Or they saw me as one. My parents didn’t mind ridiculing me in front of our other relatives or their friends. Even as an adult, they continued to do this to me. I was dumb enough to let them. 
<< Tell me what happened, Y/N.
“We visited my relatives, my father’s sister, and they all ganged up on me,” I said. My voice was low. I whispered most of the time, not to wake anyone up. 
I didn’t trust anyone from my family. They didn’t know I was a mutant, where I was working or that I saved the day multiple times since becoming an X-man. They lost my trust the moment they decided to invade my privacy as a teen and snoop around my messages, diaries and stuff. It wasn’t just that. I was ridiculed for liking books, and for being too excited about the little things in life. My taste for music was weird and laughable. My lack of interest in boys was concerning. It was a whole story. 
“My friend and I wanted to go to a concert in a few months. I got excited someone wanted to attend with me - no, baby, you don’t listen to that kind of music -  and they decided to make me feel miserable for my excitement,” I explained. 
<< Darlin’, why do you always let them do this to you? 
“Because I am dumb,” I rolled my eyes. “Because I hate fights and any type of quarrels. I don’t like conflicts.” 
Logan knew I never mentioned to my family that I was seeing someone. I wasn’t ashamed of the relationship - the opposite, honestly. My family didn’t deserve to know anything about me. 
<< I think it’s time you cut contact with them. I know it sounds horrible when I say it. As If I tried to influence you in some way. Just, fuck, I hate when they make you miserable. Baby, to me, it seems like they don’t care and don’t give a shit about your well-being. 
I knew he was right. And yet, I was afraid to do that step. “They are my parents-”
<<Whom treat you like shit, Y/N. I am so fucking angry at them. I should have come with you. I’d be there to teach them a fucking lesson about respecting the woman I love. 
Those words made me smile. Never in my life have I had someone to defend me like Logan would. The grump, my grump, was there for me when no one was. He was mine for over a year now. 
“You love me, yay,” I said happily. 
<< Baby, you know damn well I love you. I should have been there tonight. I should have been there to let them know how shitty they are. 
I hummed. “That’s okay. I know you’d defend my honour. And I love you for that. I need to survive two more days before I head back to school. The bus drive will be the best thing from this trip.” 
<< The school is your home. So, come back home. Change the bus tickets and leave. I want you here with me, darlin’. 
“No,” I shook my head. “That would be rude. I need to toughen up and survive these last two days. Afterwards, I’m done. Besides, I don’t have a good emergency story.” 
<< You don’t need one. 
“Logan, come on,” I sighed. “I’ll be back in two days. I miss you. Can’t wait to be with you. I’m staying.”
<< Miss you too, darlin’. Two fucking days.
I had to laugh. He was cute and he didn’t know that. After that, we ended the call. I remained sitting on the porch swing, looking at the silent street. Everyone was asleep. The whole neighbourhood calmed down as their residents rested for the night. 
The air got colder, so I moved from the porch, back to my old room and headed to bed. What if I was exaggerating the problem with my parents? What if it was me creating conflict when there wasn’t any? With a heavy sigh, I went to bed. 
The next day was a chaos. Around lunch, my father’s aunt and her family came to the house. “Didn’t your mother tell you? We’ll have lunch together and we wanted to be with you some more before you leave again,” my aunt chuckled at her words. 
“Great,” I said, but I wasn’t thrilled at all.
Her kids were loud, spoilt brats. They’d let them do anything they wanted. It pissed me off. I knew they were my cousins. Unfortunately. As much as I wanted to teach them a lesson and tell them no, their mother would always allow everything. 
Both boys were running around the house, screaming and throwing toys around. To calm them down, they got tablets to do whatever they wanted -  a movie, a game? Why not both? 
Logan was right. I should have left. I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day with them. And with lunch approaching, I knew it would be a stressful one. All the yelling, the bitching and moaning…
We were about to head to the dining table when we heard the doorbell ring once the food was ready to be served. “I’ll get it,” I said. I was the closest to them. 
As I walked to the door, I put my hair in a messy bun, to keep them away when I’d eat. I expected to see a neighbour or another family member that I wasn’t interested in seeing. When I opened the door, I gasped.
“Hey, darlin’.” 
Logan was leaning against the doorframe. He had black sunglasses on his face, dressed in those damn jeans and a green-blue flannel shirt. A brown leather jacket was resting on his shoulders. Dressed to kill… me. Fuck. He looked hot.
“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” My eyes widened, lips twitched because they wanted to curl into a smile. I grabbed him by the leather jacket to pull myself closer to him. He smelled like cigars and nice minty body spray. 
“I came to rescue my princess from this hellhole,” he said, voice firm and serious. 
I coughed. “What? Baby, we’re having an unexpected family lunch,” I made a face. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you are here,” I hummed with a smile. “Wait, did you ask Charles to help you get here? You went through my file!” 
“I needed to get here somehow,” said Logan innocently. “And it seems I am on time for lunch. I am starving.”
My mouth dropped to the floor when I heard him say that. I wanted to say something, anything. Unluckily, my mother decided to make herself present by approaching us. “Oh, hello, is everything okay?” she asked us. 
Logan put down his glasses and grinned at my mother. “I came to see your daughter.” 
“Oh?” 
I looked up at the ceiling, cursing mentally. I felt stress crawl up my back. Not because Logan decided to show up. It was my mother’s subtle reactions. How her brows rose, how I could sense the tension in her body. Or was it thrill?
“This… is… Logan,” I lazily turned to my mother. “He’s my boyfriend.” 
“You have a boyfriend?!” she squealed. “And you didn’t tell us?” It seemed she was offended. “You never tell us anything! Ah! This is a big deal. Oh my god!”
Deep breath in and slow exhale. I did it multiple times. Immediately, Logan approached me as I tried to calm myself down. He rested his hand on my lower back. 
One last deep breath. “Uh, we’ll be right there. I need to talk to Logan for a moment, okay?” 
My mother nodded, grinning like a maniac. She clapped her hands and ran back to the dining room. I knew she would let her mouth run wild and comment on what she saw. Lunch was about to turn into a nightmare. 
“You okay, baby?” Logan asked me gently. 
I pushed him outside and closed the door behind us. I was panicking a little. “This day is crazy,” I mumbled. “Oh my god.” I panicked a little. 
As I got closer to Logan, he wrapped his arms around my body, pressing me to his chest. “Everything will be fine,” he assured me. “You angry at me?” 
“No,” I said. “Quite the opposite. I’m glad you are here,” I inhaled his scent which helped me calm down a bit. “Fuck, you are like a gift from heaven. I should have listened to you and headed back to school. I’ve been receiving shit since the very morning. And now, my aunt and her family are here and… I want to run away.” 
He pressed a kiss on top of my head. “So, let’s go. Fuck them,” he said. “I’ll get your stuff and we are out of here.” 
“It’s not that easy,” I sighed. 
He growled, thinking. “Okay, listen to me,” he pushed me enough to look into my face. “Here’s the deal. One shit, one stupid thing from them, we are out. I don’t give a shit they are your family. They will not disrespect you. I won’t allow that.” 
I didn’t have the chance to say something. Logan took my hand and led me back into the house. He trusted his instinct which led him to a room filled with my family members. The moment we stepped into the dining room, all eyes were on us. 
First came the introductions. My father tried to be intimidating. My uncle used his dumb intelligent humour to impress Logan. Neither of us found it funny. My aunt was too touchy. I wanted to step on her foot for that. My cousins didn’t give a shit. They were interested in their mobile games. 
“How long have you been together?” 
It was the first of many questions. Logan and I sat next to each other. My mother brought a plate for him. One of his hands found my thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s been over a year now,” he said, voice low and gruff. 
“Where did you meet?” my aunt asked. 
“At work,” I said quickly. “We work in the same building.” 
“Really?” My father didn’t believe that. “He doesn’t look like someone who would work in a big corporate company.”
“Dad!” I glared at him. 
No one knew what I was, what was my real job. I told them a story about my life in New York, working for a big company. For them, I was the daughter who moved to New York. I wasn’t the mutant, the whiny girl they used to call me. Of course, Logan knew it all.
My aunt eyed Logan once more. “They take you seriously with that hair?” she asked him. 
My eyes almost popped out of my head. I couldn’t believe she dared to say it. “Excuse me?” was all I got out of my mouth.
And it got worse. 
“We always believed our Y/N would move to Europe and live her life there. Empty promises how she’d become a writer, leave the country and live a better life,” my mother laughed. “We believed she would be the one to leave the county and do great things. And here we are.” 
“Still can’t believe she didn’t settle down. But what do you want from someone who’s not fond of kids? She always hated kids, so be prepared she wouldn’t want a family with you,” said my aunt. 
“She never went to college. She lied to us about applying, her interest in decusation.” 
“Always complaining and crying.” 
“She was a sensible child.”
“She suffered from depression and anxiety.”
Logan smashed a hand against the table. All the plates and cutlery rang. I closed my eyes, ready to release my last breath from all the humiliation. My family went rampage - saying shit that even they knew was not true. But here we were. 
“Everyone shut your goddamn mouths,” he snarled, slowly rising from the table. “She is your goddamn daughter and you’ve been treating her like shit the moment I sat behind this damn table. How the fuck do you think you make her feel?” 
“Language!” my aunt glared at him. “Children are present.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your two spoilt bastards,” Logan glared at her. “You can’t even make them put the damn tablets down while eating.”
“Who do you think you are?” my mother asked. She was offended by Logan’s behaviour. 
“I am the guy who needs to put you in your fucking place. You do not respect your daughter and you keep humiliating her in front of me. Instead of saying something nice, something positive, you’ve been running your mouth off with a lot of bullshit and I am sick of it.” 
Logan grabbed me by my arm and helped me get up. I barely listened to a word they all said. My mind was spiralling. I felt like the biggest loser, the black sheep of the family. Someone who shouldn’t be born.
“Don’t you fucking dare say one more word about her,” Logan spat at them. “Or I swear, I will make your lives miserable. She’s the most amazing woman in this godforsaken world. She means the world to me. She’s the definition of goodness, kindness and love. And fuck, I don’t deserve her. But I will defend her and show her how worthy of love she is because it seems you never loved her in the first place!” 
Silence. Everyone was glaring at Logan, shocked by the words he said. As if they all forget how to speak. 
“Y/N? How can you be with this rude man?” 
“Rude?” I raised a brow. “You’ve been rude to me the whole week I was here. Logan defended me when no one else did. Even I couldn’t stand up for myself and send you to hell and back! You are the rude here, not him.” 
“That’s not true,” my uncle chimed in.
I got up from the table. “I’m gonna go pack and we’ll be on our way.” 
“I’ll wait for you in the car,” said Logan, quickly pressing a kiss to my temple as I walked by him. 
The packing took me less than five minutes. I threw everything into my suitcase. I made sure I had my documents. The moment I got downstairs with my belongings, my mother was the first by my side. 
“You can’t be serious,” she said. 
“I am.”
“And with that man?”
I stopped and glared at her. My feelings were battling inside of me. I wanted to scream, shout nasty words and throw a tantrum like a child would. However, I would never do that. I hated conflicts. I hated this moment.
“Bye, Mother,” I said and left the house. 
Once I stepped out of the house I grew up in, I felt relief and grief. A chapter, that was supposed to end sooner, finally closed. It was not a happy ending, but it had to happen to move on. Without Logan’s help, I wouldn’t be able to do that. Thank god he came here so unexpectedly. He got my back.
Logan was leaning against the car, cigar in his mouth. When I approached him, he took my suitcase and put it inside the car. 
“Thanks,” I whispered. 
I ended up in his tight embrace. The cigar long forgotten. He had to put it off on his hand. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get going.” 
“Take me home,” I said with a broken voice. 
“Home?” I knew he was smiling when he said that.
“Yes,” I nodded. “ Like you said - the X-mansion is my home. You are my home. Not this, not here.” 
Logan lifted my head by pressing a finger under my chin. Our eyes met. “I’m sorry they never treated you right. I’m sorry they saw you as something damaged, broken, now worthy of their time” He took a deep breath. “I’ll do everything to show you, that you are the best thing that ever happened to me. You…” Logan sighed. “You are the love of my life.” 
“Logan,” I gasped. We told each other many times the three beautiful words. This was something new, deep. It was an undiscovered territory that didn’t feel intimidating. 
His lips found mine in a simple kiss. I tasted the cigars and the coke he had during unfinished lunch. It was perfect. Like a definition of our relationship. “Let’s get you home, darlin’.” 
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rudysbabymama · 3 months ago
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could i request a virgin!jj x experienced!kook!reader smut? thanks babes
Pure Innocence
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MDNI
new: I know I didn’t follow the ask. I didn’t know that until after I posted it. I am really sorry about that and I will be working on a new sub!jj fic, and I will make sure it’s actually a sub jj fic. I am extremely sorry to the person that requested this and did not get what they wanted. warnings: smut, degrading, corruption kink, daddy kink, size kink, jj being kinda mean, underage drinking,rich kook!jj, jj being a little rough, reader is oblivious reader is inexperienced, teen partying
authors note: I added a little more than what was requested, reader is also a pouge I though it would be a little more interesting. I hope this one turns out ok, also whatever jj says will be in pink, also I dunno if I did good with writing kook jj sorry if it isn’t what you wanted I tried 🤷🏼‍♀️
you had no clue how you had ended up at a kook party. You held a red solo cup in your hand trying your very hardest trying not to bump into anyone there. You were dressed in a baby pink floral skirt with a white baby tee.
you hadn’t been drinking really since you didn’t exactly enjoy drinking, so you really only did it to look cooler.
you walk through the hallway and that’s when a familiar blonde ran into you. JJ turned looking at you, and he smirked. “Oh hey cutie” he says looking at you fully
“oh hey jj” you say sweetly as he looked you up and down “so what’s a cute thing like you doing at a party like this huh? I mean I never considered you the partying type” he chuckles. “Oh well I have a friend Lucy she told me to come here to hang out maybe have a little fun” you tell him
“yeah? I mean some of these parties are fun but most of them just suck really” he tells you sipping on a beer and you get a good look at his gold rings around his fingers
he looks at you, and your cute little skirt and top, taking a good look at your curves. “You know, I gotta an idea for some real fun”
That’s how you ended up in a queen bed naked with jj on top of you slowly pushing his thick cock inside your virgin walls. You whimpered in his neck feeling a burning sensation as he kept pushing in.
“shhh your alright baby cakes just a little more then I’ll be in” he brushes hair out of your face groaning in your neck softly biting
jj was fully inside of you his cock big enough to give you a little belly bulge. “Fuck your so tight so fucking wet”
“jj your too big” you whine pushing at his chest as he pulled out and pushed back in. “Your fine cupcake your fine, just gotta stretch you out a little” he rasps pushing your legs farther apart
you whimper as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix when he kept thrusting harder “wan’ me to show you how to rub your clit sweet-cheeks, it’ll make you feel better”
trusting him you nodded you head and he took your hand holding your fingers as he gently guided them to your clit. he started moving them in light little circles which cause your body to jerk forward and your thighs to shake
“there ya go baby, look at that” he says looking down at your sensitive cunt as he continues to guild your fingers on your clit “feels good right?”
you nod your head an jj started thrusting faster inside of you “fuck squeezing me so tight, ya gonna be a good slut? Gonna be daddy’s slut” he growls in your ear slamming into you
you cry out digging your nails into his arm and he flips you over so your on your stomach. He grabs your ass slapping it “look at this ass, so perfect fuck ” he groans grabbing a handful of it
he fists his cock slapping his tip against your clit causing you to whine and pull away. He spanks you again “stay fucking still”
he slams back inside making you cry into the sheets. The sound of skin slapping and music blasting outside the bedroom door filled the room, jj gripped your hips pushing your head down into the mattress “ya gonna fucking take it like a good girl got it” he growls “y-yes” you whimper
“yes what?” He fists your hair thrusting harder “yes-yes daddy” he smirks satisfied with your answer and reaches his hand around to your clit rubbing it fast
“you gonna cum for me, gonna cream all over my cock?” he rasps “y-yes” you moan as his cock hits your sweet spot
“gonna cum jj” you mumble in the sheets “cum baby, cum all over my big dick”
you cry out your walls squeezing his cock as you reach your high. JJ kept rubbing your clit helping you ride out your high. “Fuck gonna cum, gonna cum fuck” he groans his thrust getting sloppy and his hips stuttering
he moans loudly his cum shooting deep inside of you. “Jj im not on the pill” you whine trying to push him off, he groans irritated getting off. “It’s fine baby, I’ll buy you a plan b in the morning”
“no it’s not fine!” you say upset putting your clothes back on “hey where are you going” he asks “I’m leaving” you huff being upset. jj get up grabbing your wrist “no your not, your staying with me. You don’t get to just leave”
you look at him “your mine now aright, mine. Understand?” You nod your head “use your words baby”
“yes” “yes what?” He looks at you sternly “yes sir”
he kisses your neck sucking on it “good girl” he growls in your ear
lemme know if you would like to be added to the tag list!
an: I didn’t know where to stop sorry for the weird ending guys 😐
tagging moots: @kraekat29 @kisstaya @redhead1180 @maybanksprincess @princessmaybank @chimindity @loveu-always @pankowsprincess @pankowperfection @moremaybank @neddie97cherry @roses-tired @torturedlexdepartment @drewsephrry @shamonneepixie
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noisilyscreechingsong · 2 years ago
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Danny ran away.
The classic reveal didn’t go right/ the GIW is hunting to him/ everyone is dead. You pick.
He’s alone. In Gotham. With nothing.
Staying in the city makes sense, right? Except for the crazy rogues he doesn’t want to get involved in or the straight up normal humans dressing up to fight them. Danny wasn’t touching that with a 10 foot pole. So he travelled further to the outskirts where he hoped to find a cabin some rich family only stays in for the summer.
Instead he finds rich mansions hidden back in the trees with big tall gates keeping everyone out. Most had people living there (he checked), all except for this one.
He’s only seen a kid, maybe ten, go in and out for school and sneaking out late at night.
Danny thinks he’s smart, sneaking in to snag some food and rest a bit when he knows the kid is gone. He doesn’t account for if the boy comes back earlier than normal.
Wide, surprised eyes meet wide, panicked eyes. Danny doesn’t even shove the next bite of Mac and Cheese in his mouth before he’s booking it to the nearest window.
“Wait!” Danny doesn’t wait. “You don’t have to go!”
Danny slows to a stop. Um, what?
He turns to give the boy a look but he doesn’t cringe back. The kid steps forward, almost impulsively.
“You’re the one who’s been stealing food and sleeping in the guest bedroom in the west wing, right?”
How the heck did he know where Danny was taking a nap? He always made sure to fix the bed when he left.
The boy continues without any answer.
“You don’t have to keep hiding. You can stay. I’ll provide you food and clothes and you can pick whatever room you want to stay in.”
Danny doesn’t know what’s gotten into the kid, but he suddenly feels flat footed and so off balanced.
“Why?” He asks incredulously. Why do all that for him? Why trust a strange teenager in his home? Why bother with him? He’s obviously homeless and has been stealing from him.
The boy’s lips thin slightly like he doesn’t want to say. Like he’s embarrassed.
Instead he says, “You had dozens of chances to steal any of the priceless artifacts in this house, but instead you only steal enough food for yourself and to rest.”
Okay. Yea, that was technically true and he could see the boy is thinking he figured out Danny’s personality by just that (it reminds him of Jazz how confident the kid is), but that doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy!
He goes to tell the kid off for thinking he knows anything about some random teen that keeps breaking into his house, but then notices the way the boy is holding himself.
“You’re hurt.”
The boy jolts like he wasn’t expecting Danny to notice at all. He looks down and adjusts his weight a bit.
“Uh…”
“Did you twist your ankle?” Danny guesses.
The boy mutely nods, looking at him with wide eyes with too much emotion to decipher.
“Well come sit down, don’t keep standing on it, dummy.”
The boy quickly makes his way over to sit delicately on the edge of the couch cushion. Danny goes to the freezer where he knows he saw an ice pack once when he was going through it.
Danny helps the kid turn and lay back until he can elevate the foot under a pillow and set the cold ice pack over the sock. The boy is still staring at him with those wide, intense eyes.
“Ice it for a while and after you take a shower I’ll wrap it for you. Where’s your first aid kit?”
“The first floor bathroom.”
“Which one? You have three.”
“Four actually. You missed the one in the laundry room.”
Danny gives him a look.
“Kid.”
“Tim,” the boy corrects happily. “My name is Tim. Timothy Drake.”
Danny just looks back for a few moments at what is undoubtedly a flicker of hope in those blue eyes. He sighs.
“I’m Danny.”
And a weird friendship was born. Or more of a sibling-ship? Brotherhood? They teeter over the line of friend and family daily.
Danny did stay and Tim was thrilled to have someone else in the house, someone that wasn’t cold or professional towards him. They played games together and joked and taught each other things.
Danny was good at fixing anything that was broken and was the one to do any errands while Tim was at school. He was also the one who had to teach Tim how to be a brother.
Tim on the other hand seemed to be good at everything but letting himself relax. He was a hyper and intelligent kid whose mind was always active, so Danny had to accommodate and come up with crazy games and tasks for the boy in the disguise of requests, but he also made the boy sit down with him to watch crappy movies and just relax together.
They had fun, but they also had bumps and misunderstands. Danny nearly blew his top when Tim snuck out to spy on Batman and Robin without telling him (and wasn’t that a conversation to remember when the Danny found out what he was really doing at night). And Tim had a problem with lying to try and make Danny not worry, which ended up doing the opposite.
They got through those hiccups together though because they were both too possessive to let the other go that easily.
Tim created a fake identity for Danny saying they were cousins. The same black hair and blue eyes kinda sold it with a backstory of Danny’s mother being disowned by Janet’s parents. Jack and Janet weren’t home enough (or invested enough) to confirm or deny.
It was funny though watching Tim stare after Jason Todd-Wayne longingly for a while, but enough was enough. If Tim secretly wanted to befriend his idol, then Danny would make it happen. And he did of course. He made friends with the butler after ‘losing’ a frisbee in their yard and asked if they could get together for dinner one night so Tim and Jason could hang out outside of school. Alfred obviously knew Danny was pushing for Tim’s sake, but he still agreed easily enough.
So became a normal for the Wayne’s and the Drake’s to eat dinner together at least once a month. And after many meetings Danny mentally checked them off as ‘okay enough for vigilantes’ and stayed behind while the two younger boys ran off to go play a game before they headed home next door.
“Mr. Wayne?”
“Come now, you know you can call me Bruce, Danny,” the man smiles. It’s a little too wide, but Danny understands he’s still trying to put on the Brucie mask. He really wish he wouldn’t.
“Right, Bruce.” He fidgets for a second with his hoodie strings and he can feel Bruce’s attention zero in on the motion. “I need to ask you a favor.”
The air turns tense with the silence after that.
“What’s wrong, Danny? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine! Promise. I just- I just need you to promise me something. Please.”
Danny felt so awkward. He has never relied on an adult before, always doing everything himself or with other kids, something Tim and him have in common. So to turn to Bruce Wayne was out of character, but he wasn’t really. He was asking Batman, and him Danny could trust a little more.
“Promise you what?”
Danny could hear the barely covered suspicion in his voice.
“If- If something happens and I’m not around anymore, I need you to take Tim in,” he states, looking at the man full on to show how serious a matter this was.
The man stares back equally serious.
“What would happen to you? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Bruce asks.
Danny shakes his head hard.
“I’m not into drugs, Bruce. Or a gang or gambling or anything like that okay? I don’t owe any debt someone’s coming after me for. I just need insurance, some piece of mind that if something did happen that meant I couldn’t take care of Tim, there would be someone to look after him.”
Bruce stares back, thinking, for several moments.
“Tim has parents, Danny, I don’t know what you expect me to do. And what do you mean you take care of him? Don’t you boys have a caretaker?”
“Of course we don’t. We look after each other, but I’m the oldest. His parents are never home. I’m not exaggerating, they were in Gotham for only fifty-four days last year. They missed Tim’s birthday, holidays, everything. He’s still a kid, he needs someone to be there for him and if I’m suddenly gone then he has no one. Promise me that won’t happen. Promise me you’ll take him in, that you’ll figure out a way to keep him with you so he at least has Jason and you and Alfred.”
Bruce is silent for a while and Danny knows what he’s struggling with. He didn’t really want to use his trump card, but desperate measures.
“We already know who you are. You don’t have to worry about him finding out your secret.”
All traces of the Brucie mask drops at that confession and Batman analyzes him.
“How?”
“Tim is a really smart kid,” he just says with a fond smile. “He’s known for a while too, so you know he won’t go blabbing to the media or whatever.”
“What about you?”
“If I wanted to blackmail you, don’t you think I would have led with that? I don’t care what you do in your free time, but it’s not my business to tell.”
Danny shrugs and tries not to squirm under being scrutinized.
“Since you know who I am, if you are in trouble or ever need help, you can come to me.”
Danny blinks.
“Yea, that’s what I’m doing. So do you promise?”
Bruce nods once, very controlled.
“Yes. I promise you that I will take care of Tim Drake if anything happens to you,” the man vows solemnly.
Danny smiles back, shoulders sagging in relief.
“Thank you.”
When Danny somehow saves Jason from dying, and two months later goes missing, Bruce has to honor that promise while also tracking down the teenager to bring home to a very distraught Tim.
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@steddie-spooktober day 9: werewolf | T | wc: 1,735
🐺🌕🐾🐺🌕🐾
“I need a werewolf to take one look at me and go “I’ll have that” then claim me as their mate and never let me go.” Eddie says out of the blue.
The soda Steve was drinking stings the back of his nose as it attempts to avoid ending up in his gullet, and Robin automatically starts to pat his back sympathetically as he continues to splutter
The older teens are all over, just a normal kickback type thing after the kids had all been ferried out of Steve’s pool and over to the Wheelers’ armpit of a basement for the night. He and Robin are replenishing their snacks in the kitchen and Steve had been attempting to polish off his current can before grabbing another when Eddie’d said that. Stupid enhanced hearing.
And Robin didn’t even hear it; To her, it must’ve just seemed like Steve’s soda went down the wrong pipe or something.
The conversation in the other room continues on while he struggles to breathe. “Okay…do I even want to know?” Nancy asks, her voice tinged with disgust.
“You never read fanfiction, Nance?”
“No, can’t say I have.”
“Well I have, and having a hairy werewolf hottie decide you’re the one he wants? Swoon.”
“Is that a thing?”
“Everything is someone’s thing, man.” Argyle drawls out.
“Why?” Nancy again.
“‘Cause humans are weird.”
“No, no, I mean why werewolf?”
Steve tunes out Eddie’s response when Robin speaks beside him; “You okay, Dingus?”
“Yeah, yeah, just—“ should he even tell her what he’d heard? …Nah. He’d rather preserve his dignity for a little while longer, thanks. “Just went down the wrong pipe is all.”
“Well if you’re done dying, I’m sure the others are wondering where their snacks are.”
She pats him again, twice in quick succession, and grabs up the freshly re-filled bowl of popcorn and two cans of beer beside her on the counter.
Steve does the same, a bowl of chips in one hand and another three cans in his other, following Robin back into the living room.
To his absolute horror, the first thing she asks when she steps across the threshold back into the room is, “What’d we miss?”
“Eddie was telling us about his kinks.” Nancy states, accepting the can Robin holds out to her; Robin plops down onto the carpet beside her and cracks open hers.
“It’s not a kink, it’s—-“ Eddie argues, cutting himself off, “Okay, maybe it is a kink, but it’s just fictional!”
Robin looks at him, confused. “What is?”
“He wants to be claimed by a wolf.” Jonathan explains, grabbing two of the cans from Steve and passing one to Argyle beside him on the couch.
“Not a wolf, a were-wolf!” Eddie protests loudly at the same time Robin starts cackling.
“Didn’t know you had a thing for biting, Munson.”
“Didn’t know you knew what claiming even entails, Buckley.”
“You think I haven’t been on AO3?” She shakes her head at him, “And I thought we were friends..”
None of the others seem to notice Steve’s lack of response or his bright red face, all of them wrapped up in Eddie’s denial.
“We’ve seen crazier shit..” Jonathan concedes, his response a little delayed and his tone thoughtful. “Who says werewolves aren’t real? Or mermaids? Or bigfoot?”
“Bigfoot is real.” Eddie and Argyle say in unison.
“That’s just fantasy! And no he’s not..” Nancy says, rolling her eyes at the boys.
“With all the insane shit that’s been happening apparently for years now, you’re telling me that vampires, werewolves, and all that crap aren’t a thing? What, are those too fictional for you?” Eddie argues.
Before Nancy can respond, and to Steve’s absolute horror, Robin looks right at him with a devious looking glint in her eye. “What do you think, Steve?”
Three more of the remaining four faces turn to him at once; Argyle remains gazing contentedly up at the ceiling where he’s lounged back on the couch, his feet propped up on one arm and his head in Jonathan’s lap.
“About what?”
“About werewolves.” Eddie and Robin respond at once, the two passing a suspicious glance between them before turning their eyes back to Steve.
“Wanting to be claimed or whatever, or whether or not they exist? ‘Cause I don’t quite have an answer for either.”
Eddie, Nancy, and Robin all start talking at once, Steve’s ears picking out each thing; “It’s not just that! Why won’t any of you listen to me?”, “Please don’t tell me you believe this crap too, Steve.", “Both, obviously!”
He sighs, “Stranger things have happened, Nance,” he says, answering her first, then turning his attention to Eddie, “So explain it then.”
Robin chuckles again, lower in volume this time, and he prepares himself for whatever shit he’s gonna get from her about this. Steve asking the subject of his relatively new gay bi panic turned full-blown crush why exactly he’d be into him right to his face has got to be like Christmas coming early to her.
“It’s the whole claiming thing too, alright, don’t get me wrong, but it's also the..” Eddie’s face shifts into embarrassment and his cheeks tinge pink, as if what he’s about to say is the more embarrassing part than the horny biting thing (Steve’s read a few fics in his time too, sue him.), “The Belonging thing. Like, they picked you to be a part of their family, their ‘pack’.” he emphasizes the word with his fingers. “I like the whole chosen family part….” he says, quietly, then his face switches out of embarrassment, going back into confidence in a blink, “But a full-hearted “Yes!” to the whole staking their claim thing. Also definitely that.”
The others groan, the sound morphing into laughter, and Steve thinks he’s off the hook about answering. Until.
“So? Steve?”
Damnit Robin.
“I mean..” Steve’s face burns hot again, the initial flush that had managed to die off coming back full force. “I don’t know about the whole claiming thing, I’m not into biting,”
‘Getting bitten,’ he corrects in his head, ‘Biting, however..’ leaving his mark on someone, the bright red imprints of his teeth standing out against the pale skin of their—-the hypothetically pale skin of their throat (and beside the hypothetical long dark-brown curls too maybe).
He shakes off the thought, “I can definitely understand the family part though, ‘d be nice to be chosen and be chosen forever.”
“See? Exactly! Steve gets what I’m talking about!” Eddie says, gesturing and grinning wildly at him.
Steve’s probably the only one who doesn’t miss the low shuffling sounds of Jonathan and Nancy squirming where they sit.
“The rest of you don’t get it,” Eddie continues on, standing up and turning to walk out of the room. “But believe me, when I find out werewolves are real,” He stops at the back of the armchair Steve’s settled himself in and puts both his hands on Steve’s shoulders, squeezing slightly, “You’ll be the first one I tell, big boy.” He pats the side of Steve’s face with one ringed hand, then turns out the open doorway and down the hall.
“When?” Steve manages to say.
“When!” Eddie calls back, and Steve hears the bathroom door click shut.
“What a goofball,” Nancy says, shaking her head and standing up herself, straightening her shirt and wandering over to Steve’s record player.
Steve can feel Robin vibrating from across the room, so he sighs, stands, and says, “I’m gonna go clean up the deck. Bobs, you wanna.?”
“Yeah, I’ll help.” she says, way too excitedly, and follows him past the dining table to the sunroom and out the back sliding door.
As soon as her foot hits the concrete patio, she starts.
“Holy shit!”
“Shhh! Shut up!”
She waves off his protests, “Oh come off it, you’d be the only one to hear me from inside anyway. Now come on, Dingus! Spill it! You gonna tell him? You gonna bite him? Are ya gonna mate h—”
“OHkay no, nope, not going there.” Steve cuts her off with a hand over her mouth, which she promptly licks.
Non-plussed, he wipes his palm off onto the shoulder of her shirt as he steps past her and bends to pick up a discarded soda can from earlier.
“C’mon, spill! Are you finally gonna go for it?”
“Go for what?” Maybe he can play dumb his way out of talking about it.
“Nuh uh, the play dumb move isn’t gonna work, Dingus. You gotta go for it! Tell him how you feel! You even know he’ll be totally into all of you when you tell him.”
“Another ‘When’? This is a ‘when’ now too??”
Robin nods, “It’s a ‘When’ now too.”.
Steve huffs a long sigh, picks up another can. “I’m not gonna tell him, Robs.”
“Why not?” Steve can hear the arm-cross from here.
“Because, Robin I…” him?, “Because he…because Eddie..” Because Eddie what?
Steve stops whatever it was he was doing; must’ve been something very unimportant because what he’d been doing is completely overrun by his brain’s attempts to come up with some reason why he shouldn’t tell Eddie about the wolfy side of him.
Really, what’s he going to do? Rat him out to some shady government body to do experiments on him? No, Eddie wouldn’t do that. Or, at least, it’s very unlikely that he’d do that.
Run screaming for the hills? No, apparently he’d love to find out there were such things as werewolves. Werewolf, actually, because as far as even Steve knew, he was the only one.
“Because…?”
Steve finally turns back to face Robin with a huff, yep. Arms crossed. “Hold on, I’m thinking.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Shut up.”
Only a handful of seconds pass before Robin repeats herself. “Because…?”
“...Okay, maybe I don’t have a great reason why not, but what am I supposed to say? ‘Hey Eddie, couldn’t help but be a part of the whole werewolf conversation earlier, but hey, just remembered something, I’m totally a werewolf. A werewolf that’d love nothing more than to throw you down and radish you—-’.”
Steve’s hypothetical conversation is cut off by a sudden bark of a laugh. Steve snaps his attention to the sound, and there he is. Eddie, covering his mouth with one hand and flushed beet red in the light just outside the back sliding door.
The door that was left open.
“Uh…..”
🐺🌕🐾🐺🌕🐾
this is based off some tags i added to a previous post but i cannot get tumblr to add the link 😭
edit: from my tags on this post!
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queen-of-nightmare-16 · 6 months ago
Note
Can I request Warwick Vander and daughter reader where they reunite in Viktor sanctuary after Vander gets his memories back. She’s scared a bit, and the last time they spoke it was a huge fight and she said she hates him. And it’s Hurt/comfort.
GHOSTS | Vander/Warwick X Daughter Reader
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CONTENT WARNINGS - Threat • Injury • Angst • Mention of death • Comfort • Season 2 Spoilers! • Reunions
PAIRING: Vander/Warwick X Fem Daughter Reader
SUMMARY: you were Vander’s daughter and forced to leave the Undercity after your family’s deaths. Only to return when one of your companions needs healing from a mysterious herald and you realises ghosts do exist?
WORD COUNT: 2.9K
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“You sure this guy can help?” You asked your second in command.
Rek’yr, a large powerful white bear Vastaya, crossed his arms over his broad chest glancing back to the rest of your crew. “It’s all I’ve heard recently. Shimmer addicts, crippled children, all of them: back up on their feet, healed and better than ever,” he replied in a gruff voice, glancing down to one man in particular. “Could be Fink’s only chance”.
A grimace set on your face as you glanced down to the man in particular. Well, rather young lad. 17 and dumb as a bag of rocks but fiercely loyal and brave. Brave enough to stupidly take on a large Noxian warrior at a check point only to take a blade in the gut. No, matter what your healers did, he wasn’t getting better. Maybe the blade had been coated with a poison of some kind or it had nicked an artery, either way your people didn’t have the facilities or equipment necessary to check. Then you heard the rumour. A man -- or a herald -- that could heal anyone of any ailment.
There was no could about it. It was Fink last chance. The only problem it took you into the depths of the Undercity. A place you hadn’t called home for 8 years now. Ever since … that night.
Many people of the Undercity was shocked that when the Uprising ended in failure, the famed Hound of the Underground starting adopting children of the fallen. First the two daughters of one of his closest friends. Then two boys. But they always seemed to forget that he already had one by blood. You. It was a classic love story of the Lanes. Two dumb teens getting together and 9 months later another mouth to feed was born. There was no malice between your parents. They loved you equally, yet you lived with your mother as Vander was one of the leaders of the Uprising. Always said it would be too dangerous to stay with him. That was until she too fell that day on the bridge and Vander brought you home to The Last Drop. Your family had grown exponentially as did your responsibilities. Now the older sister to 4 new siblings.
But fate deemed your happy family was not to last.
“Hey, you still alright being here?” Rek’yr asked noticing your discomfort. “If it’s too much--“.
“I’ll be fine,” you lightly snapped, immediately feeling regret wash over you. “Sorry. Let’s … let’s just help Fink and get out of here”.
With your order, Reky’yr and another one of your crew picked up the stretcher carrying Fink and continued through the canyons. Following each curve and twist of the rock, until it came to an open area. More people of different varieties entering the compound, all with their own issues or injuries. It was more than a shock when you were greeted at the entrance by a familiar face. Huck. He seemed lighter, more content, less afraid. With weird white swirls to the right of his face, along with five prominent evenly spaced dots on his forehead.
“Dear Y/N, lovely to see you again,” he greeted politely with a bow of his head. Even after all these years, he still recognised you.
“Huck? Is that you?” You said almost speechless.
“Yes,” he nodded, his new watercolored eyes glancing over your shoulder to spot your companions. “In need of help?”.
“Y-yeah. My friend, he’s been stabbed,” you explained, waving Rek’yr forwards. Huck stared somewhat blankly down at Fink, his face covered in a sheet of sweat. “Your healer … can he fix him?”.
“The Herald can help all,” Huck responded brightly before gazing at the glaive strapped to Rek’yrs back. “But I’m afraid your weapons must remain here. There are no weapons allowed in the commune”.
Your fingers twitched on the handle of your sword, uncertain but Finks pained coughs made your mind clear. Unsheathing the blade from its scabbard, you stabbed it into the ground and ordered the others to do the same. When almost all of your weapons sat before you, Huck stepped back and welcomed you inside.
“Just to the centre and you’ll find him there,” he informed, smile forming once more. You nodded in appreciation and took a step only for him to place a hand on your shoulder. “The rest of your family is here too”.
Your brows immediately furrowed. What did he mean? The only “family” you had left was Jinx and the two of you were now estranged ever since Silco chased you out of the Last Drop. With a tight gulp, the four of you entered. Rek’yr took the lead, offering Fink reassuring comments whilst you fell behind slightly, eyes wavering through the crown for a glimpse of blue hair. If Jinx was here it couldn’t have been for anything good. Upon staring behind you, you hadn’t noticed you strayed into someone’s path until you clipped their shoulder.
“Hey, watch it!” You immediately snapped, watching the black haired woman glare right back.
“You’re the one who walked into me you--” she started to snark only to fall short. Her blue eyes squinted, staring you up and down before a look of realisation dawned on her. “Y/N?!”.
Your nose twitched. “How do you…” you eyes drifted onto her left cheek. There was a small tattoo. And those eyes, they suddenly became very familiar.
“V-Vi?!” You stuttered.
“Oh Y/N!” She cried, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You slow breaths heaved from your lips as they awkwardly wrapped around her waist. Vi let out a sigh of relief before pulling away, running a hand over your cheek. “You’re alive”.
“I’m alive?! You’re alive!” you retorted, taking her all in. She really wasn’t the same 15 year old kid you once knew. Now a woman grown, strong and formidable. The only thing that spun you off was the ridiculous black hair. “How? I- I thought you … I thought you died. With Mylo and Claggor and …”. You voice drifted off before you could say that painful word.
“No, I got arrested. I was in Stillwater for the last 7 years,” she explained sadly, her pleased gleam swiftly shifting into one of irritation. “Where the hell did you go?! You left Powder to Silco!”.
“Whoa, calm down! I didn’t want to leave but Silco didn’t exactly make it easy!” You snapped, shoving her hand from your shoulder. Like she knew. She had the benefit of a routine, even if it was inside the walls of a prison cell. You in the other hand had to live from one hour to the next, wondering if this one was when you’d meet your end. “Do you know what it was like? As far as I was aware you were all dead! You! The guys! Pa! Then Silco took the Last Drop, he nearly killed me and I had no one! I had to run!”.
Vi was stunted by your anger. Just as she had changed, so did you. Once a sweet 17 year old girl that happily worked pouring the odd drink at The Last Drop or delivering pints to patrons. Anything to help your father out whenever he needed it. “So … where did you go?” She asked.
“Bilgewater. Got a job, formed a crew and I swore I wasn’t gonna come back to Zaun but work lead me here. Then a friend of mine got stabbed so we need this herald to heal him.” you answered, stressfully pinching the bridge of your nose. With a huff your eyes turned back to her, looking her up and down. “Is he as good as they say? You look in good spirits”.
Vi glanced down at herself. “We’re not here for me,” she replied.
“‘We’? Who’s we? I-is Jinx here?” You question, receiving a nod as a reply. A snarky snarl grew on your lips. “Hmph, finally getting her head fixed is she?”.
“No. Look, this--” she started harshly but faltered. “… this might be hard to understand but don’t freak out”.
Her words were cautious like she was talking to a child, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder and rubbing it soothingly.
“Dad … dad’s alive”.
A sharp pain stabbed you in the chest at her words. That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. You could feel it bubbling in your chest, like your heart and your head was going to explode. The painful memories you had attempted to shut out came flooding back like a tidal wave. Your voice. His voice. They coiled in your head like a constricting snake.
“You can’t do this! They’ll throw you in Stillwater for good! You’ll never get out!”.
“It’ll only be for a few years. Vi’s just a kid, she shouldn’t be throwing her life away”.
“So it’s fine for you to throw yours?! You’re leaving me! Just like Ma did!”.
“I’m not. I don’t want to do this, but we both know it’s the only way. I need you protect the family now”.
Protect the family. What family? It would all end with him.
“You’ll understand why when you’re older”.
“No, I don’t think I will. Just know, that if you do this, I’ll always hate you”.
That sorrowful look in his grey eyes. It was the last thing you ever saw of your father.
“I’m sorry, little pup”.
A deep fury burned in your eyes as you glared at her. “Wow, and I thought Mylo was the cruel one out of us all!” You seethed through clenched teeth. If it was anyone else they would’ve already been knocked on their arse. You shoved her arm from your shoulder and took a step back. “I’m getting my friend healed and I’m getting out of here. Have a nice life Vi”.
“Y/N, I’m serious! Why would I lie about this?!” She argued, grabbing you by the arm so you couldn’t walk away. “Vander’s the one we’re getting healed”.
Once again your heart clenched. Rage and guilt battling it out for control. “H-he’s here? Where?”.
“In a greenhouse,” she gestured over to a small building just a short distance away. “I … I can take you to him if you want”.
Your breath was hitching, desperately fighting against a wave of tears that crept behind your eyes. “Y/N, you alright?” Rek’yrs voice called behind you. You turned to face him, noticing Fink and your other crew member a distance away; the so called herald gazing down at your injured friend.
“Rek’yr, see to Fink. I … I need to deal with something,” you softly ordered. The humanoid bear stared suspiciously between you and Vi for a second but nodded none the less.
“On it. You need me, holla. I’ll come running,” he offered. The two of you shared a gentle smile before he marched away. Inhaling deeply, you huffed and turned back to Vi.
“Take me to him”.
The two of you walked together, you palms becoming clammy at you growing nervousness. But not at the near impossibility of his survival; rather at his potential anger towards you. Did he know of all that happened after he was taken by Silco? Or that you failed his last request. Or maybe, would he be mad at your last harsh words to him. It was pathetic; childish.
Before you had even realised, you both stood in front the door to the greenhouse. Your fingers nervously twitched behind your back, seeking the leather bound handle of the dagger you had hidden under your corset for comfort.
“Y/N, you need to know … he-- he’s not the same as he was before. He’s different, like really different,” Vi warned, her hand hesitating on the door handle.
“He’s my father. I want to see him,” you firmly stated. Vi sighed and finally opened the door. She crept in first; slow and cautious. Which confused you. You swiftly followed, standing by her side as the room was painted in a slight darkness.
“Vander?” Vi called out once you closed the door behind you. Your desperate eyes squinted, trying to peak through the foliage to spot him. That’s when a large shadow shifted behind a fountain, your brows furrowing as a baby blue eye stared through the leafs. It wasn't his familia grey. And the sclera, it was black. Fear crept up you spine as the head turned, the blue eye joined by a green one. The plants shook, your eyes doubling as a large paw-like hand planted itself on the ground. Another followed, this one modified with large metallic claws and obvious signs of chem-technology. Your lips curved into a horrified sneer at the sight of a mouth full of fangs, its large ears twitching in curiosity as it revealed itself.
“Vi, what the fuck?!” You heaved, wrenching your blade free as it stepped closer; your heart pounding in terror.
“Y/N, just calm down,” she begged, standing defensively in front of the beast. The fear in your eyes, it made the creature jump and shrink away. As if it was ashamed to scare you, like it wanted to hide in itself. “Just … just look at him. It’s him,” she pleaded.
How could it be him? Your father was a man, not this. Not some monster of creation. But the way it held your gaze, the way a parent would a child. It was unsettling; unnerving. It struck you to your core. The blade glimmered in the light as your hand shook unsteadily. Yet it made no attempt to threaten you. As you took a step forward so did the beast. The knife felt heavy, its comfort becoming unwanted. Taking a shaky breath you stepped closer, Vi slowly shuffling to the side so there was nothing between you two.
Tears built up behind you eyes, your head tilting upwards as it stood over you. Its eyes soft and longing. “P-Pa?” You spoke. Its pawed hand rose up causing you to shudder slightly. Every instinct in your body was screaming at you to run, to attack and protect yourself but you were frozen in a mixture of fear and intrigue. Its hand hovered just before your face until one of its clawed fingers gently tucked a lock of hair that had come loose behind your ear, grazing your cheek before it pulled away. Just like he always used to do before.
By the gods, how was this possible. “Vi, can you give us a moment,” you asked, your voice somewhat frail. Your sister nodded and swiftly left. Now, it was just you two. Alone.
“So it really is you. After all this time,” you uttered, taking him all in. He had always seemed larger than life when you were younger but now he truly was. “How is this even possible?”.
Vander glanced down at himself, though he wished he could he was unable to voice an answer. But it wasn’t like he wanted to give your the gory details that had suddenly came back thanks to Viktor’s healing either.
Your nose twitched at his silence, as did an old familia anger that had been bottled up for so long resurfacing as well. “What did you expect of me? What, did you think I could look after them without you?!” You hissed, your hands coming up to stressfully scrunch your hair. By the gods, this was insane. This was too much. “I needed you!”.
Vanders eyes bulged slightly, mildly taken back by your burst of anger. Your body trembled in hysteria as you took a few steps away.
“You just had to go and be the damn hero! Vi was a kid b-but the Council would’ve gone easy on her! Whilst you! You lead the uprising! You never would’ve seen the light of day again!” You yelled, throwing the knife across the room where it became embedded in the wall far away from him.
Seething breath after breath, you marched back towards him; despair blending with anguish. Your hands came up to shove him but you found it was like punching a brick wall. He hardly moved, nor did he attempt to stop you; allowing you to vent. “This isn’t right! NONE OF THIS IT RIGHT! You coming back after 8 years, looking like this! It doesn’t change anything!” You bawled, growing more frustrated by the second. Hot tears burned behind your eyes, desperately trying to break free.
“I still hate you!” You screeched, your fist coming up to slam against his broad chest. ‘No, I don’t,’ your brain screamed. ‘I hate myself’.
Vander barely budged at your pounding fists. “This doesn’t change anything! This doesn’t make anything better! No better!”.
Your voice cracked, hands becoming stagnant upon his chest; unable to fight anymore as his large arm wrap around you. “No, fu-cking better”.
You could feel his breath tussle your hair as he tugged you close, his nose resting on the crown of your head. So gentle, even at this monstrous size. A low grumble reached your ears. It was rough but nonthreatening. His words slow yet heartfelt. “I … missed you … little pup,” he whispered softly.
All your resolve broke, the damns in your eyes breaking with a cascade of tears poured down you cheeks. Your clenched fists fell open and latched around his waist, pulling him to you as tightly as you could. The shame and regret you once felt for not holding him close that night slowly faded away. You face became buried in his chest, sobs shuddering past you lips. As did a tiny breathless laugh. It was swift. This feeling was one you hadn’t truly felt in years.
Happiness. He was here, alive. Home.
“I missed you too, Pa”.
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Hey, I wrote some more! Sorry, to the requester if this felt like a long time since you asked. I don’t have the luxury to have Christmas off like other jobs, oh the joys of hospitality! Anyway, I hope this was what you desired.
I don’t know if I’ll do more requests in the future but, who knows. I might feel generous. Have a Happy New Year y’all!
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