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chapter 1
pairing: Astarion x f!Durge · word count: 4.3k
rating: M for now, eventually E (18+)
tags: modern AU, witness protection, strangers to friends to lovers (see AO3 for a more exhaustive list)
summary: It’s been over a year since Eve had to uproot her life and assume a new identity—anything to distance herself from the past she wishes she could forget. When an erratic, if oddly charming, newcomer stumbles into her place of work, she recognizes something familiar within him and the two can’t seem to stay away from each other. But Eve is not the only one running from her past. An alternative, modern take on the Dark Urge x Astarion romance, filled with friendship, secrets, healing, and ABBA.
a/n: IT'S HEREEEEE 📣 a huge thank you to everyone who hyped me up as I was working on this, you guys are the best 🫂❤️
the title is from "Like Real People Do" by our lord and savior Hozier
read on AO3 · dividers
Eve grips the edge of the sink, knuckles white as she tries to ease her breathing.
Only one more hour. One hour and she gets to go home.
Her shift started, rather unfortunately, with a birthday party: pushing together four tables, trying to keep up with the customers who constantly changed their mind about the order and deliberated endlessly on who’s paying for what and with what card, all the while their children were screaming for attention. But even worse was the mess they left, along with the few spare coins they tossed on the table as an afterthought, which somehow made her angrier than if they hadn’t tipped at all.
And then it was back to the usual, mundane torments of her job, the worst of which were the never ending comments that made her scream internally when the most she could do was a polite nod. She thought she would get used to them by now, but alas, the hundredth one was just as insufferable as the first. They were delivered by all kinds of people in a variety of tones, ranging from patronizing to objectifying to just plain stupid. They fueled countless rants that Eve’s roommate patiently listened to before noting that perhaps she should look for a job that doesn’t fill her with rage every single day.
The customers’ words echo in her mind on a loop, like a twisted Greatest Hits compilation.
“Why is a young girl like you slaving away in a place like this? Did you plan to be a waitress?”
“Why would you cover up that pretty neck with a tattoo? Don’t you know what it will look like when you’re older?”
“I’m surprised your boyfriend is okay with you working this late. I wouldn’t be, that’s for sure.”
“Does it cost extra for you to smile?”
Managing to tear her thoughts away from this pity party, she looks up, wincing when she sees her reflection in the chipped mirror. The ponytails she hates but that, without fail and for reasons she doesn’t want to entertain for too long, make people tip her more. The makeup, just enough to conceal her dark circles and soften the edges of the scar running down her cheek, but of course not enough for people to notice she is wearing any, lest they think she’s trying too hard.
And finally, the dragonfly tattoo lining her throat. The artist did a great job with the cover-up, but despite the quality of the craft, all Eve sees when she looks at it is the dagger concealed within the insect’s body, the ever present reminder that no matter how far she runs, or how much she tries to conceal it, her past will forever be carved into her skin.
She takes another deep breath, counting seconds as she inhales, holds, then exhales—one of the only useful skills she’s gained from her series of short-lived flings with therapy.
One more hour. I can do this.
Eve fixes her crooked name tag and heads out the door. She makes her way through the backroom into the kitchen, and perhaps the smell of grease would assault her senses were it not already embedded into her skin, hair, and clothes.
On the center counter, she spots a tray with a ticket for booth four. Yes, booth four she can do. It’s largely unproblematic, if a little strange. She grabs it and heads out the kitchen, past the main room to a smaller side one with the bar, a couple smaller tables, and a line of booths.
As she enters, she spots a man sitting by the bar, looking a bit lost. His hair is bleached so light it’s basically white. He’s wearing a t-shirt with a patterned sweater vest over it that’s a couple sizes too big and way too warm for May. He’s hunched over the bar counter, pen in hand, working fervently on something or other.
She passes the newcomer and makes her way to booth four, featuring her favorite regular: an older man, wrinkled beyond belief, who arrives at 4 p.m. every single day. He always comes alone and without fail, orders the same exact thing every time: a plate of chicken tenders and a Dr. Pepper. No sauce, no sides. Just the chicken and the beverage. Eve stopped bothering to take his order months ago.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” she says, placing the plate in front of him. She opens the soda can and starts pouring it into his glass. “How are you doing today?”
“Fate spins along as it should,” he says in that trademark monotone voice.
“Mhm,” she hums, trying to think of a way to stall, so she doesn’t have to return to her other customers. “Did you hear there is going to be a thunderstorm tonight?”
“That may be so.”
“Right. Well, enjoy your meal then.”
“Thank you.”
She scans the room, but seeing no one who looks like they need help, she fishes out the notepad from her apron and makes her way behind the bar.
The white-haired man doesn’t look up when she stands before him, seemingly lost in thought as he scribbles something in a journal in sweeping, messy handwriting. Through the scent of stale beer and fried food, she singles out a hint of his cologne—citrusy, fresh, and far more pleasant than anything the men frequenting this establishment usually wear, if they even bother.
“Hello, my name is Eve–”
He startles at the sound of her voice. There is a trace of panic in his eyes as he looks up at her, one that he instantly tries to cover up by straightening in his seat and donning a forced smile.
The moment their eyes meet, Eve gets the strangest feeling of déjà vu she’s ever experienced. There is something familiar in the creases of his smile lines, in the way his hair curls around his ears. It catches her off-guard, the rehearsed introduction dying in her throat mid-sentence.
“I’m sorry, do I know you from somewhere?” she asks instead.
The man instantly tenses up with a loud scoff.
“Of course you would know me from somewhere. What else did I expect?” He gestures animatedly as he speaks, Eve blinking in confusion as she listens to his rant. “Are you one of those true crime freaks? Do you want an autograph or are you content with just standing here and gawking?”
Great. Just great.
Exactly what she needed to top off this hell of a shift: entertaining a man’s delusions of self-importance. The True Crime Celebrity has to go into this month’s top three, along with The Alien Abductee and Mr. FBI-Poisoned-My-Cows. At least those guys were more polite.
“You move halfway across the country to finally get a break for once and– Fucking hell!”
He drops his fountain pen on the counter with a loud thud and slips his glasses off to massage his temples, eyes shut tight in frustration. A couple patrons turn their heads to glance their way, Eve’s cheeks growing hotter at the sudden attention.
And perhaps, after seven hours of being on edge, that was simply the last straw.
“Do not raise your voice at me,” the words escape her lips before Eve can think better of it.
The man seems genuinely taken aback and he opens his eyes, brows furrowed when he asks:
“Excuse me?”
“You seem to think you’re some sort of big deal. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. And no matter who you are, you shouldn’t speak to people that way, but especially not to those who handle your food and drinks.”
She didn’t mean it to sound like a threat, but she has no emotional energy left to dull the edge of her words.
Maybe getting fired wouldn’t be so bad. Then I’ll never have to come back here.
For a moment he just looks at her wide-eyed, opening and closing his mouth a couple times. Eventually he clears his throat and puts his glasses back on, sounding genuinely embarrassed when he admits:
“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just– It’s been a long day. But still, that’s no reason to– I’m sorry.”
The anger pent-up in her body starts to dissipate at his tone. He sounds… tired. In a way she recognizes all too well.
“It’s been a long day for me, too,” she says. “Maybe we can try again.”
She turns away and takes a couple steps along the bar, then returns with a polite smile on her face to say:
“Hello, my name is Eve, I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I get you started with something to drink?”
He chuckles softly and now that his face is more relaxed, Eve can’t help but think that he is quite handsome, in a manner that feels utterly out of place.
“Well, that depends,” he says. “Do the drinks come with spit or poison?”
“You’ve apologized, so neither. But you’re on thin ice.”
He scoffs, but there is no real edge to it. He watches her intently, a hint of curiosity in his gaze that she is not sure what to make of.
“So, do you need more time?” she asks after a moment.
“Time for what?” he asks, stumped.
“To order. Do you know what you want to order?”
Suddenly, as if a prompter whispered his lines to him, he remembers they’re in a restaurant of all places, and he is, in fact, playing the role of the customer.
“Ah, yes. Food,” he says, gaze falling upon the empty bar counter before him.
Eve sighs and retrieves one of the folded menus from a holder to her right.
“Is this your first time?” she asks, handing the paper to him.
“First time here?”
“First time in a restaurant.”
“Let’s say it is,” he chuckles, grabbing the menu from her. “What then?”
“Well,” she starts, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter. It’s a tad sticky, but she chooses to ignore that unfortunate detail. After all, the more time she spends with this fumbling, if oddly charming, idiot, the less she has to deal with the other, less-than-savory regulars. She unfolds the menu, trying to sound as patient as she can when she says:
“Here is the list of foods, here are the prices. Here, for some unknown reason, are the calorie counts, which I suggest you ignore, for the sake of your sanity.”
“Hm,” he hums thoughtfully, eyes gliding down the list. He looks up, a curious glint in his eyes when he asks: “So, what do you recommend?”
She doesn’t have a response at the ready, mostly because no one ever asks her that. Nothing, she wants to say, but with the final remnants of self-control, she dons her best service-industry smile, the one that says: I love my job and I haven’t been dying to go home.
“Well, that depends: how hungry are you?”
“Not terribly.”
She flips the menu over to their All-day Lunch selection.
“The club sandwich is a crowd favorite.”
“Alright. But what is your favorite?”
Eve looks up to meet his eyes, their greyish blue alight with amusement, and she can feel the edge of her lips tugging up into a disbelieving smile. She finds no hint of mockery in his tone, just sheer curiosity. He seems to genuinely care about her opinion, which is a rarity in this place.
“The grilled chicken panini is not half-bad,” she whispers, like she is revealing some meticulously guarded secret.
“I’ll have that, then.”
“Got it,” she says, standing up straight. “And to drink?”
“Surprise me.”
“I can’t put a surprise on your tab. You do actually need to pick something.”
“Do you have diet cherry coke?”
Eve summons all of her mental strength to not roll her eyes at him.
“We have diet, non-cherry pepsi. Is that okay?”
“It’s a travesty, more like. But I’ll make do.”
“Great. One sec.”
She scoops some ice into a glass, then retrieves the pepsi from a small fridge under the bar. As she starts pouring it into his glass, she asks:
“So, are you visiting someone, or just passing through?”
“I actually just moved here a couple days ago,”
“Oh.” It’s not often that they see a new face around here. And certainly not one this good-looking. “In that case: welcome.”
“Thank you. I suppose I wanted to get to know the town a little more. Check out the…” his gaze wanders around the room, the flickering Coors Light neon signs, the truckers belly-laughing at one joke or another, “…local scene.”
“And how do you like it so far?”
“Well, so far you’re the only person in this place I’ve managed to have a half-decent conversation with. So yes, I suppose it’s alright.”
“Half-decent? You wound me.”
He smiles, but before he gets a chance to respond, Eve hears someone snap their fingers at her like they’re in a fucking Tarantino movie. She’s surprised they didn’t yell garçon!
“I’ll be back with the panini,” she says, and however, reluctantly, pries herself off the bar counter to attend to the obnoxious client at booth one.
The pace picks up, as it always seems to do when she is almost done with her shift. When she brings him the food, they exchange a couple more amusing if largely meaningless comments, before she has to go tend to her other customers.
Eventually the man asks for the check and pays with cash. By the time Eve comes to collect it from him, he’s gone. Opening the tab, she sees two $20 bills and for a moment she’s convinced it must be a mistake, because the total was just over $17.
But then she notices a small ink stain on the thin receipt paper and turns it around to read a note in that same sweeping font: Sorry again for being a dick. Enjoy your weekend.
Eve chuckles softly and pockets the receipt on a whim.
When she’s clocking out 15 minutes later, she hears that grating voice behind her, the one that always manages to set her on edge.
“I saw you arguing with a customer.”
“That’s odd. I don’t recall doing that,” she says, not looking away from the keyboard.
“You know damn well who I’m talking about. The one with the glasses, dressed funny.”
Eve sighs and turns around to meet the man’s eyes. He’s a couple inches shorter than her, a fact he tries to make up for by puffing out his chest and glaring at her in a way that is presumably supposed to be intimidating. It’s funny, she thinks, how much of a power trip he gets from being a manager at a run-down place like this. She wonders sometimes what must be going on in his personal life that he’s trying to make up for.
“Oh, him!” she says with a forced cheeriness. “Well, he actually seemed quite pleased with the service, he left me a very generous tip. Did you hear any complaints? You know I would hate to leave a bad impression on a new customer.”
His lips tighten into a firm line as he watches her, and Eve is fully aware he has no arguments left. After a moment of tense silence, she nods politely before turning towards the exit.
“See you tomorrow, Wulbren.”
Eve frees her hair from the ponytails and runs her fingers through it the moment she steps outside. The afternoon sun cradles her skin as she crosses the parking lot and makes her way to Gizmo—her trusted 2012 Toyota Prius that has seen better days.
It’s a fairly nondescript car, what with it being a Prius and a bland beige, but she has taken to decorate the inside with some personal touches. The back is adorned with two bumper stickers: one with the logo of her roommate’s youth soccer team, the Clinton Comets, and another that reads: “My other car is a 2006 Honda Civic.” It’s a leftover gift from the previous owner that Eve is too amused by to peel off, despite how worn and faded the lettering has become.
She starts the car, turning the radio off immediately—she listens to it enough at work and right now, she just wants to enjoy the silence. As she pulls out of the parking lot, she rolls the windows down to welcome in the fresh air, warmed with the promise of summer.
It only takes her seven minutes to get to the elementary school. Surprisingly enough, she managed to leave at 5 p.m. sharp, so she still has some time before practice ends. She decides to park in the visitor’s lot and walk towards the pitch.
The shrill whistle reaches her ears, and as she steps up onto the mostly empty bleachers, she takes in the sight of 20-something children running around in navy blue uniforms, Lae’zel standing off to the side as she watches them intently.
Her hair is immaculate as always, the upper half pulled into a near-perfect bun, her thick chestnut hair interspersed with small braids here and there. Despite the temperature, she’s wearing a matching cream-and-black Adidas tracksuit, the light fabric bringing out the warm hue of her skin.
Suddenly, there is a commotion as an argument breaks out between two girls. Someone missed a clear shot, or something of that nature—Eve was not paying attention. Others join shortly, the bickering growing incessantly loud.
A whistle cuts through the chatter and Lae’zel waves her hand in a beckoning motion.
“Mol! A word.”
The group immediately falls quiet and from the crowd emerges a short girl with russet brown skin, her hair gathered into a high ponytail. Her expression is sour as she approaches, like she’s ready to argue further.
Lae’zel lowers herself into a squat, her eyes leveled with the girl’s. From her seat, Eve can make out most of their conversation:
“You’re the captain, Mol. You need to act like one. If you don’t have faith in your teammates, then who will?”
The girl’s defiant expression melts into one of embarrassment, her gaze suddenly very focused on the tips of her cleats.
She mutters something that sounds like: “I’m sorry, Coach.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your team,” Lae’zel says, rising to her full height, which, admittedly, is not a lot. “Now, go out there and be a leader. Understood?”
The girl nods decidedly and runs back onto the field as Lae’zel blows the whistle, resuming the game. Eve smiles as she recognizes her gift: a silver whistle with the words #1 Coach engraved on the side. Lae seemed very flustered when she gave it to her, but Eve has never seen her go back to the plastic ones she’d used before.
The game ends 2:1.
Lae’zel makes some closing strategy-related remarks, then reminds the girls about the game next week with the team from a neighboring county.
“And remember that there will be summer practice available all throughout June, and then resuming in August. I’ve emailed the details to your parents. Any questions?”
When none arise, Lae gathers the team in a circle, and on the count of three, they erupt into a group cheer, accompanied by dance moves that look awfully close to the “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” song.
“UP, DOWN, LEFT, AND RIGHT, CLINTON COMETS WIN THE FIGHT!”
The group disperses, and as the children are gathering their things and getting ready to leave, Lae’zel checks her notes and says:
“Arabella, Yenna, and Ide, I still haven’t gotten those permission slips back. If you don’t want to miss out on the last game of the season, I’ll need them by Wednesday.”
“Yes, Coach Medina,” the three girls in question say in a practiced unison.
The pitch eventually empties out as the children leave, along with some of the parents who were waiting on the bleachers. Lae’zel is gathering the orange plastic cones from the field as Eve makes her way down to help her.
When Lae turns around and meets her eyes, Eve breaks into dance with unparalleled enthusiasm:
“UP, DOWN, LEFT, AND RIGHT, CLINTON COMETS WIN THE FIGHT!”
“Do you have a problem with our battle cry?” Lae’zel asks, trying her best to look unamused.
“No, I love it. It’s adorable and so, so corny.”
“The girls wrote it themselves. I didn’t want to interfere with their creative process. It’s good for team morale and their self-esteem.”
“Of course. You know I would never question your pedagogy.”
They pick up the last of the cones and as they’re heading to Lae’zel’s office, Eve says:
“Oh, you know what I just remembered?”
“What?”
“UP, DOWN, LEFT, AND RIGHT–”
“Keep doing that and I will evict you.”
“Oh, but then who would drive you around?”
“I’ll take my chances with the bus.”
Once they put everything away, they make their way back to the car and head home.
“Are you doing anything tonight?” Eve asks as she turns onto the main road.
Lae’zel picks up her phone and then directs the screen towards her.
“Her, if all goes well.”
Eve glances sideways to catch a glimpse of a Hinge profile. Jen, 25, the caption informs her. The girl in the photo sports heavy makeup and short bangs, her hair split down the middle with half-white, half-black dye.
“Pretty.”
But Lae’zel just hums approvingly in lieu of a response.
Before Eve can probe any further, her phone rings, and a message appears on the center screen: Call from: Wyll Ravengard 😎
“Hi Wyll,” she answers. “You’re on speaker. I’m in the car with Lae’zel.”
“Hello Lae’zel,” the man responds in his signature friendly tone.
“Hello. Don’t worry, I’m not paying attention,” Lae says, not looking up from her phone.
“She’s not paying attention, she’s busy texting a goth girl on Hinge.”
“Been there. Anyways, Eve, sorry to disturb your Friday evening, I just wanted to confirm that we’re still on for coffee, Monday at 4?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Perfect. And you remember that I scheduled that… consultation appointment for you at 2 pm that same day?”
Eve sighs softly. Another therapist. Agent Ravengard has been relentless in trying to find a good match for her. She’s pretty sure she’s gone through everyone within a 20-mile radius.
“Yup. I do remember that.”
“Mhm. And do you plan on attending?”
She pauses for a second, and then says, unconvincingly:
“I do.”
“Lovely. Can’t wait to hear all about it over coffee.”
“Sounds delightful,” she says dryly.
“I’ll text you the details again, just in case. It’s up in Fairview, so about a half hour drive. You should have plenty of time to be back by 4.”
“Okay.”
“Alright then, have a wonderful weekend, Eve, and I’ll see you soon, yes?”
“Yes. I– Thank you, Wyll. I appreciate you.”
“Happy to help. Bye now!
“Bye, have a good one!”
The moment he hangs up, Eve lets out a pained groan.
“You sound frustrated,” Lae’zel remarks, still typing. And when Eve doesn’t respond, she adds: “Maybe you should sleep with him.”
“With Wyll?!”
“Yes. You are attracted to him, are you not?”
“I suppose I am, a little. I mean, have you seen him? But no, that is either illegal or unethical or both.”
“I don’t see the issue.”
“Well, I do. Plus, not all of life’s problems can be solved with sex, you know?”
“It sounds like you just haven’t had great sex, then.”
“It sounds like you really want to walk home. I can pull over at any moment, just say the word.”
There is a moment of silence before Lae’zel asks:
“In all seriousness though, do you want to talk about it? This appointment of yours?”
“No. That’s the last thing I want to be thinking about right now.”
“Understood.” Lae’zel seems to ponder something, then adds: “I’m meeting her for drinks at 9, so I still have some free time. Do you want to pick up ramen and watch people be idiots on the Game Show Network?”
“Yes, please.”
Lae’zel calls the ramen place on the first floor of their building to put in their usual order. Once they get back to the apartment, she goes to pick up the food while Eve heads to her room to change.
The space is quite bare, especially in comparison to Lae’zel’s room, which is full of photos, trinkets, and memorabilia to remind her of home. Eve doesn’t have any of those, but she still tried to make her room her own, whatever that means. A couple plants line the windowsill, and her shelves are overflowing with books she thrifted: mostly non-fiction, with the occasional Stephen King novel tucked between her usual reads. There are plenty of lights, too: a salt lamp, numerous candles, and a cascade of fairy lights above her bed. Anything to not have to turn on the harsh overhead light.
Before they sit down to eat, she wants to get rid of that ever-present diner smell. When she pulls her jeans off, a piece of paper flies down onto the wooden floors. She snatches it up, ready to toss it into the trash, when she spots the now familiar, swirly handwriting.
Eve chuckles, remembering this oddly charming man, looking entirely out of place, who probably had an even worse day than she did, somehow.
She unfolds the paper fully, straightening out the wrinkles, and heads over to the small desk in the corner of the room. There is a cork board above it with a couple ticket stubs from events she went to with Lae’zel and a few holiday cards from Wyll. It’s the closest she can have to a picture board, ever since she was explicitly instructed to never allow herself to be photographed.
She isn’t sure what propels her to pin the receipt to one of the empty spaces on the board.
But it fits right in.
a/n: thank you for reading! lmk if you would like to be tagged when I update this, or when I post in general. have a lovely rest of your day/night, whenever you're reading this 💛🧡
taglist: @roguishcat ✨
#astarion x durge#astarion x the dark urge#durgestarion#bg3 fanfiction#astarion fanfiction#bg3 modern au#my fic
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The FAQ link sent me straight to the inbox. Do you have a Patreon? (Sorry if you've answered this before.)
Oops, that's not supposed to happen!! I'm at the shop rn but once I'm home I'll take a look at it, I recently changed my site theme so the link might have just broke 🤣
I do have a Patreon, and a Ko-Fi now too as well!! (just recently started a secondary page for Ko-Fi, I haven't finished sprucing it up yet but it's at least setup enough to function lmao) Both are setup for monthly subs, but Ko-Fi is frankly my favorite as it also allows for one-time donations, it supports community goals (which Patreon got rid of, bleh) and its fees are WAY lower, meaning more of what people send me actually gets to me!
That said, I do want to include a disclaimer for anyone finding out for the first time:
Obviously with the nature of Rekindled being fanfiction, I can't directly profit off it, so I'm limited in what I can offer in terms of tier rewards. I'm not exactly keen on running the risk of offering stuff like early access pages or sellable digital downloads of the comic itself, that sort of thing, as it could be held against me as selling Rachel's characters / story / etc. for my own profit. While Patreon overall does offer the "legal grey area" of operating as more of an optional tip jar than a commercial storefront, I would still rather mitigate the risk of legal consequences before they've happened, rather than push my luck and get screwed for it later LMAO
Aa such, most of what I post rn are backlog Twitch VODs from past streams (which includes live footage and commentary of me making "new" episodes) and time lapses of completed episodes ! Stuff that contains Rekindled goodies without it being a direct sales item ;p
Aside from balancing on legal tightropes, I've also just... learned the hard way from past experiences that I'm not the best at maintaining a robust and regular tier reward system 🫣 (thanks ADHD) If I were able to do this as my full-time job, maybe, but ultimately I prefer keeping my crowdfunding platforms simple so I can focus on making what people are really paying for - the continued production of more episodes!
Sooooo with that big disclaimer / explanation aside , if you do decide to check it out, just keep in mind that both platforms are operating more like optional tip jars, with the odd piece of bonus content every now and then from what I can feasibly (and legally) provide !! I try my best to upload regularly enough for the monthly subscription to be "worth it", but that's why I also have a Ko-Fi setup now too, for people who would rather just make one time donations or don't want to deal with another monthly subscription cost (mood)
Regardless, all the money that I earn from Patreon, Ko-Fi, and Twitch goes back into Rekindled in some way or another! Whether it's helping cover costs for my drawing software or paying for new brushes / assets, or even just helping with our Internet bill so that I can keep posting LMAO I'm super grateful to those who have or are currently tucking some extra change into my pocket to help support my work and get me by, every little bit counts 🤗💖
(and ofc for those who don't have the means to support with money - reading my work, commenting on it, reblogging it, etc. is super helpful too!!! All your kind words and fun discussions and theories in the tags and fanart and everything in between are their own form of compensation, because it brings me immense amounts of joy and constantly reminds me why I do what I do 🥺💖)
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Of monsters and men [IronStrange]
Summary: Some kidnappers fucked up big time and now Tony is bonded to this strange demon he continues to summon by accident.
Tags: demon!Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Whump, body horror, protective Stephen Strange, Stephen Strange needs a hug
Author's note: It's finally happening! This is the demon fic I talked about ages ago. Special thanks to @harpywritesfic who listened to my random rambles about this and was one of my main motivations to write this in the first place. It might have even been her idea all along. The same amount of thanks goes to @kvjjjjjj who helped me tweaking everything and shaping the story into what it is now.
Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 2.5k | Next (soon)
Chapter 1: I’m yours to command
Tony had been kidnapped – yet again.
A scratchy bag was blocking his view and his hands were bound above his head.
He had been drugged – must have been because he had blacked out and still felt dizzy, although he regained consciousness a while ago.
Whoever did this, they were experts. They had stripped him of all his tech; even his watch that transformed into a gauntlet. So he was left with no way to contact Jarvis.
At least he was sitting, with his back against a cold stone wall. Even if his left shoulder hurt all the way down to his elbow.
He guessed he was in a big room or some kind of hall. There were some noises and low voices nearby but still too far away to hear any specifics.
Until footsteps approached him and the bag was pulled off his head.
Tony squinted in the sudden light – that came mostly from candles all around the place. Huh – weird interior design choice.
“You know, I’m actually insured against being kidnapped by one million dollars,” Tony said. Because for the love of god, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Especially not when he was nervous. And while he was a pro in being kidnapped – really he should have a punch card at this point – it was always a reason to be at least slightly concerned.
Plus his head still felt weird.
The first thing Tony noticed of his kidnapper was his weird outfit. It was some kind of robe, like a monk but in a dark red. He wore a hoodie over it, as if he had decided at the last second that he needed another layer in case it got cold.
“Be glad we already collected everything we need from you.” The guy sounded annoyed by Tony’s comment; and he had a New York accent. Definitely a local then.
“If you have everything, you might as well let me go.”
“Oh no. We will keep you in case they want a snack. Why you of all people have a suitable bloodline is a mystery to me. I really would have liked someone who was easier to kidnap. So, we have to make it worth it.”
Tony squinted his eyes, irritated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t get an answer, since the guy turned away and walked back to a group of people. All of them were wearing those red robes and various versions of jackets and hoodies.
Soon Tony noticed that he was in a kind of catacomb made of stone. It looked old, with high ceilings and no windows. Judging by the dusty smell of the air they were probably underground.
There was barely any interior – besides the candle sticks and some boxes that looked like they were brought here only recently.
The walls were decorated with weird carved-in symbols Tony didn’t recognize.
He raised his head. What he thought was a wall behind him was actually a block of stone, some kind of rough black granite. It was placed suspiciously like some kind of altar in the room.
The group of cultists or zealots or whatever, were currently working on copying something from an ancient looking tome onto the ground.
Shit, that wasn’t good.
These guys didn’t just want ransom or secret business information. They were serious with this, and maybe a bit crazy.
Tony tried to pull on his shackles to no avail. He had to think quickly – which wasn’t so easy with his head still swimming.
The cultists finished whatever they drew and inspected it. Then one of them stepped to the boxes, and took out a transparent bag with red liquid in it.
Tony suddenly had a horrible suspicion. He glanced up at his still aching arm: someone had put a band-aid under the crook of his elbow. Right where blood was usually drawn.
Now his lasting nausea made more sense.
They poured the red liquid onto the outer line of their work. Then they gathered in a circle around it and started chanting while holding their hands.
Tony didn’t really want to stay and find out what exactly they were attempting to accomplish here.
The drawn symbols on the ground lit up. Then suddenly, the blood got absorbed into the stone on the ground, as if it had been sucked up.
Tony didn’t believe in hell. Or in heaven for that matter. But he had met a super soldier, a green angry guy full of radiation, and a literal alien god. At this point everything was possible.
His fear spiked when dark smoke filled the floor – centered at the area where his blood had vanished – and the candles flickered. An eerie aura spread, almost as if the air had become tinted.
Tentacles grew out of the smoke; at first they seemed shadow-like but then they solidified, and Tony noticed immediately the sharp spikes that unsheathed from the suckers.
The cultists moved back a bit, making space.
Whatever was going on, Tony needed to leave. Sooner rather than later.
But when he tried to move, he just hurt his wrists.
Then a figure appeared amidst the smoke and the tentacles. It grew out of the shadows and became taller and taller.
Tony saw horns – and some kind of cape? There were more tentacles around the figure and it was hard to tell where the figure and its cape ended and the tentacles began.
The demon’s – there wasn’t any better term to describe the figure – voice echoed in the vault.
“Wħø đȺɍɇs ŧø sᵾmmøn mɇ?”
“It was us, creature of darkness.” One of the cultists took a step forward and the demon’s head whisked around to him. Tony imagined the eyes of such a creature being terrifying, but the cultist spoke with confidence. “Our bond compels you to heed our commands. We are your masters by blood and magic. Together, we shall harness the powers that lie dormant in the shadows.”
The speech was a bit much in Tony’s opinion – on the other hand he was in no position to voice critique.
The demon didn’t say anything. He looked down to where the summoning circle lay under the dark smoke.
Then he stepped over it.
The cultists’ faces fell and they became pale. That was when Tony knew something has went horribly wrong. He went back to trying to free himself. But he just rubbed his wrists more sore and hissed in pain.
The demon turned his head halfway towards him as if drawn by the noise, and Tony quickly bit his tongue. He didn’t want to draw further attention.
Fortunately, the demon deemed the cultists as the more important matter. “Ɏøᵾ Ⱥɍɇ nø mȺsŧɇɍ øf mɨnɇ. Ŧħɇ ƀønđ ɨs ᵽȺɨđ wɨŧħ ƀłøøđ – Ⱥnđ ɨŧ đøɇsn’ŧ ŧȺsŧɇ łɨkɇ ɏøᵾɍs.” He raised a long, slender arm and pointed at the speaker. “Ƀᵾŧ føɍ ɏøᵾ Ɨ wɨłł đøᵾƀłɇ ȼħɇȼk.”
In the next moment he vanished – just to re-appear right in front of the cultist who had addressed him, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground. He killed him effortlessly, almost like an afterthought.
Panic rose among the other cultists. They realized they had made a mistake and they held no power over the entity they had called. Naturally, they tried to flee.
The tentacles dashed after them – it didn’t look like the demon was willing to let them leave.
Tony averted his eyes and tried to work on his own escape instead. The fearful screams and noises of breaking bones were deafening but he knew his time frame was short, if he wanted to make it out alive.
His shackles were pretty tight and they didn’t give him a lot of room to move. There was nothing around him he could use either, just stone. He tried to grind his shackles against it, but it damaged the stone rather than his bonds. At this rate, he would need hours or days to get any results.
The noise of metal against stone became louder and at first, Tony thought it was because he still felt dizzy and his head was directly next to where he was working to free himself. It took him a second to notice that it had become silent in the room.
He stilled and focused back on his surroundings.
There was nobody left but the demon – and he looked straight at him.
Tony gulped. It was the first time he saw his face.
It was surprisingly human. The skin too pale, maybe even a bit purple-ish. And it seemed to flicker, as if its outlines were blurred – or constantly changing. Like the static noise of a television. His horns were framed by black hair, streaked with white on both sides.
His back was straight with confidence and his long arms hung low, ending in black tainted hands with claw-like fingers.
The ragged robes that once maybe had been blue but now leaned more into purple, and the red cloak around his shoulders had seen better days as well.
Tony squirmed in his place. “For the record, I had nothing to do with bothering you. Not my plan, didn’t approve it.” His eyes flickered to the tentacles all around, that seemed to – surprisingly – calm down, as well as the flickering of the demon’s skin.
The demon approached him. In the dark smoke that still lingered on the floor and with his long robes and cape, it almost looked like he was gliding over the ground. Funnily enough he also seemed to become smaller, shrinking to the size of a regular human being. He still towered over the altar Tony was bound to.
His eyes were blue and utterly inhuman. They looked like a window to another world; Tony could see colors swirling around in them. They were so very deep. Tony felt himself falling, sucked in by the blue and purple. He forgot to breathe.
“It was your blood that summoned me.” The voice of the demon brought Tony back into the moment and he blinked. His legs felt shaky.
The demon’s voice was now different then before- deep, and for some reason he spoke perfect English. Maybe it was the magic involved.
“Sorry about that. It wasn’t voluntary.” It was probably a stupid idea to talk to this creature. Tony’s last words would be something utterly ridiculous.
On the other hand, that was a very fitting way for him to go. He felt – maybe for the first time ever – like he had run out of time and options. Despite all the reckless stuff he was throwing himself into on a daily basis; this was different. He was used to dealing with human villains, maybe robots and the occasional alien from space, but not to whatever this creature was. There was some kind of power emanating from him Tony couldn’t even begin to fathom.
The demon stretched out his claw, sharp and intimidating, and Tony felt his heart race as a wave of dread washed over him. He winced in anticipation of the pain, bracing himself for the harsh reality of whatever cruel fate awaited him.
But the demon inflicted no harm. Instead the demon cut his restraints with a swift move. The shackles fell away, releasing Tony from his captivity.
He sat there, perplexed, as he rubbed his sore wrists, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
And then, to add to his astonishment, the demon lowered himself onto one knee, his head bowed.
“I’m yours to command,” he offered respectfully.
Tony’s initial wonder rapidly shifted back into disbelief mixed with a sense of foreboding.
“No need, thank you. You can leave,” he replied, his voice carrying the certainty that he wanted absolutely no part of what the creature was offering.
Now it was the demon’s turn to be surprised and he looked up. “I’m bound to you by the spell. I have to stay until I have been of service to you.” He eyed the human. “I’m sure there is something you need.” The demon came closer to Tony’s face. His eye color shifted to the clearest blue Tony had ever seen and he was captivated by it.
“Something you wish for. Something you desire.” The demon’s voice dropped an octave. “My mighty powers know only few restrictions.”
Proudly he grinned, revealing a row of terrible razor-sharp canines.
Tony suddenly felt hot. Did someone turn up the thermostat? Maybe this creature was fueled on hellfire or something like that.
Anyway, Tony wasn’t really interested in anything the demon could offer. He had more money than he could ever spend; everybody knew who he was, and if he wanted he could call and speak to the president. There was no power or fame that appealed to him.
But if he had to think of something in order to send this fellow away… “Can you heal that?” He showed his bruised wrists.
The demon paused. This wasn’t what he had expected. But then he nodded and reached out. Tony braced himself because of the claw-like fingers, but – yet again – they were surprisingly gentle when they touched his skin. They curled around the bruise and then – with a golden shimmer – the demon healed him.
Not having expected that, Tony watched in awe. “Wow, that’s incredible.”
The demon puffed up proudly for a moment, before he studied Tony. “That’s not your only injury,” he observed.
His hand wandered up his sleeve and he healed the ache in his arm from where his blood had been drawn, before it settled on his left shoulder. It was his bad one. The one that had been injured so often, Tony was used to the constant ache.
The demon’s hand lit up golden and the pain was gone.
Then the blue eyes looked at his chest, where the light of his arc reactor glowed faintly through the fabric of his shirt.
That was where Tony drew the line. “Don’t touch that,” he ordered sharply.
“But you are injured.”
“I am aware. But it’s good as it is. You can leave now, right? You were of service.”
The demon seemed taken aback by his behavior. As if he had never met a human, that settled for a simple healing spell. Most humans asked for power, wealth or being worshiped. Maybe to destroy their enemies.
“I guess technically I did,” he admitted.
“Totally. I’m a very satisfied customer. Five out of five stars. Big help, thank you. I don’t need your service anymore.”
“Fine.” The demon stepped back and Tony felt like he could breathe again. “It was interesting to meet you, Anthony, son of Howard.”
Before Tony could ask how the fuck he knew his name, the demon disappeared back into the ground – and with him the tentacles and the dark smoke.
Tony leaned back against the stone, exhaling.
Just when he thought life couldn’t get any weirder…
Then he realized he should have asked the demon to bring him home, because he still had no idea where the hell he was.
#ironstrange#demon Stephen Strange#tony stark#stephen strange#doctor strange#marvel#whump#angst#hurt/comfort#fluff#demon!Stephen Strange
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Torbek says to keep yourself safe, but theres more art below the cut! CW: Scars and discussion of surgery
Fun Fen Fact! Some back surgeries require surgeons to go through the abdomen, and although newer research is showing the complications of doing so, I don't think feywild witchlight doctors really care about that! :) In my own personal headcanon (hehehe) I say that Torbek has quite a large scar on his back and a thin long scar on his abdomen where the tubing of the witchlight was pulled through and grafted to his body tissue and possibly organs. Each of the scars that has a witchlight tube connected to it constantly seems infected and angry. Both because Torbek messes with his tubes a lot and because his body is still aggravated by the witchlight. The only scar that has healed somewhat cleanly is the scar on his front, which will probably eventually grow fur again in time once Torbek stops picking at the scabs (so me fr). The notch in his ear is from him ripping out the tag that was once in it. His right paw is more or less permanently disfigured and discolored, being the dominant hand that he would use for combat and therefore being the most witchlight-manipulated. The visible veins of witchlight on his right claws glow and pulse, sometimes entirely seeming to disappear. I really really really wish I knew how his canisters work I want to know their mechanical secrets so BADLY!!! I'm only up to ep 34 im dying to learn the secrets of the Torbek I also find it extremely amusing that I did the lineart for the warning but not the lineart for the actual piece that the warning is for LMAO
#fens art#once upon a witchlight#torbek#fanart#legends of avantris#I ill never not go stupidly into detail with my headcanons for every fandom im a part of#like you could show me a background character with a mechanical arm that never gets explained and ill write a 10 chapter novel about it#also I gave him digi legs because :3#im a furry literally what did you expect from me LOL#it makes drawing the shoes harder but i never liked drawing shoes anyway#I'm very glad everyone is enjoying my art of this scrungly dirty man :)#thank you for all the kind words in your comments and tags!! I read all of them and it makes me kick my feetsies and stim like crazy#i love when other people love my art of scrungly guys
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Till the day that I die | OP81 x Reader
pairing . . . oscar piastri x dyslexic!youtuber!reader
summary . . . Being dyslexic on social media may be hard, but your knight in shining armour is always there to defend you
request . . . yes!! based on this request
word count . . . N/A
warnings . . . none!
faceclaim . . . blanca soler MY WIFE and lily zneimer for couple posts!
alexavia yaps . . . havent written a smau in a while im afraid ive forgotten how </3 ANYHOW im saur happy ydek bc i dont have to edit this?? i dont have to read it 75 times for mistakes?? MY DYSLEXIC ASS CAN BE FREE!!!!! ps this is LITTERED with refrences! also ignore how i kind off didnt follow the request I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO DO IT. dechipher the captions yallselves im too lazy to do it
y/n l/n posted a new video !
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comments !
yourusername
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liked by oscarpiastri, yourbsf, lando_norris and 2.2M others
yourusername grmw vlog is out!!! had so fun filsming it and we had an ella feaure included!!! (ella is y/n's dog!)
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y/nfan5 WOOHOO!!!!!
oscarpiastri Can't wait to have you in my arms
yourusername aww osc youre too sweet <3
oscarpiastri Only for you <3
f1_girly are those typos in the caption or am i tweaking
y/nswifeyy. They are! Y/n is dyslexic so every once in a while we get a typo or two
username1 im looking DISRESPECTFULLY
username2 how did she misspell two very easy words? girl go back to school
oscarpiastri She's dyslexic, you're not, so go fuck yourself
username3 OSCAR???
oscarloverr. I DIDNT KNOW OSCAR HAD IT IN HIM
y/nsno1fan guys IGNORE OSCAR AND LOOK AT Y/N
oscarpiastri
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liked by yourusername, lando_norris, nicole.piastri and 2.9M others
oscarpiastri With the love of my life once again tagged: yourusername
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username4 I CAN DO ANYTHING PLS JUST LET ME HIT
charlesleclerc Don't bully my daughter-in-law
yourusername CHARLS ILYSM
yourusername BEST FATHER IN LAW I'VE EVR HAD
charlesleclerc I'm the only one you have?
yourusername doesn't mayyer
oscarpiastri Thank you Charles
lando_norris photo credits?
yourusername up mya ss
lando_norris wow y/n i thouht we were frinds
yourusername i ony like you because we're both dyslexic don't flatter yourslef mr norris
hater2 How do you mess up the word 'yourself' so bad?
yourusername magic
oscarpiastri Do you not have a life? Or is it hating on my girlfriend?
yourusername ate
oscarpiastri Thank you 😊
username5 HELP OSCAR IS WHIPPED FOR Y/N
username6 who ISNT
username5 good point
plmvia Y/n i love you pls don't die
f1_3112 y/n ate, left no crumbs, wiped the plate clean and oscar is meh ig
yourusername i love you
oscarpiastri me more
yourusername till the day that i die i love you more
oscarpiastri MY HEART
y/n l/n posted a new video !
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comments !
yourusername
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liked by oscarpiastri, lando_norris, nicole.piastri and 3.7M others
yourusername small phtotdup since my boyafriend is away at war ad is begging for pcitures </3 also a new vlog is out!
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username7 OH. MY. GOD. how hard is it for you to spell properly?
oscarpiastri As hard as it is for you to get a life and stop hating
yourusername gnawing at the bars of my enclisure that was hit
oscarpiastri Hit?
lando_norris she meant hot, oscar. hot
yourusername H-O-T-T-O-G-O you cna tae me hot to go!!!!!!!!!
oscarpiastri Stunning as always
oscarpiastri Zak better strap me down to the car because I am so close to booking a flight back home
oscarpiastri I've watched all your vlogs thrice
username8 my wife guys back off
oscarpiastri Uhm no?
username8 OMG OSCAR REPLIED SOS
oscarpiastri Text me please
yourusername will do
lando_norris this would've been a normal post if oscar wasn't a sappy muppet
yourusername oi leave my boyfriend alone
oscarpiastri When she defends you from haters <3
lando_norris you bring out a side in him that no one wants to see
yourusername sorry?
lando_norris you better be
username9 MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER
y/nplsmarryme gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous omg
verchstappan we're so back
oscah.pastry SHES MY IDOL
yourusername
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liked by oscarpiastri, lando_norris, yourbsf and 3.2M others
yourusername finally reunited with my beuatufil biyfriend and the love of my life <33 love you till the die that iday tagged: oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri I swear to god if someone comments about the typos in the caption I will personally run you over with my F1 car
yourusername so romantic 😍
oscarpiastri All for you ❤
lando_norris till the die that i day?
yourusername FUCK
oscarpiastri It's alright I got the meaning
yourusername i hare this dysexia
yourusername LANDO I SWEAR TO GOD
lando_norris I DIDN'T EVEN SAY ANYTHING
yourusername you were about to
lando_norris sigh
superyuki22 i need this in my life
username10 mother y/n feed us some ynoscar crumbs
username11 if i was oscar id have a meltdown everyday out of stress of losing this goddess
username12 this is the best love story in the history of love stories
username13 im calling it theyre romeo and juliet
ynshoee_ this is so goals what
lawsons.lawyer parasocial relationship
charlesleclerc You two are very cute
yourusername so are you and alex!!
charlesleclerc You have my permission to propose
yourusername who said i alrwady didn?
charlesleclerc Okay.....
oscarpiastri
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liked by yourusername, nicole.piastri, charlesleclerc and 3M others
oscarpiastri Happy anniversary, my love. From sneaking glances in the school hallways to cheering me on from the paddock, you’ve been my constant through it all. No matter how fast life moves, you’ll always be my greatest win. I love you forever, always. tagged: yourusername
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redbullb1tch max can keep his championships this is the REAL win
ynfann18 PREACH.
nicole.piastri The greatest prize Osc has ever won! Here's to many more!!
yourusername thank you mama piastri 🥹 🫶
oscarpiastri Thank you mum <3
lando_norris nothing more iconic than this relationship
yourusername not even your win?
lando_norris let's not get ahead of ourselves
oscarpiastri You said it yourself?
lando_norris well don't take it so seriously
h4m1lt0ns44 if racing is all i need to pull someone like y/n i'd be a world champion
yourbsf from delievering your notes to each other in high school to seeing you celebrate half a decade of this relationship, you two have the best relationship ever 🫶
yourusername thank you sm ml <33 hope to see you in the paddock with your f1 bf!
oscarpiastri Thank you, bsf/name!! I'll try my best to matchmake you with a driver so N/n can see you in the paddock more often
yourusername OSC
oscarpiastri Anything to make you happy ❤
lando_norris hey yourbsf
oscarpiastri Oh?
username14 THE NO.1 COUPLE ON THIS EARTH FRRRR
username15 i'm so sick i want this RIGHT NOW
username16 my fav thing about them is oscar defending y/n's dyslexia
username17 If your man isn't like Oscar then dump him
yourusername you always make me feel like the most special girl in the world, even when your life is driving 300 kilometres per hour 🥹 im so proud of you, not just for what you’ve acheived on the track but for who you are off it too 🫶 ill love you till the day that I die, my favorit boy forever 🥰
oscarpiastri You’ll always be my greatest achievement, on or off the track. I love you more than words, forever and always. ❤️
yourusername till the day that i die
fin.
taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)
#alexavia writes 🍒#alexavia yaps 🍒#f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#x reader#oscar piastri#op81#oscar piastri fic#smau#fic#fanfic#f1 smau#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri smau#f1 social media#f1 fanfic#racing driver#racing#f1 racing#oscar piastri x y/n#social media#social media fic#dyslexia#dyslexic#blanca soler#youtube
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❝time will tell.❞
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[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]
summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞
pairing/s. poly!mauraders + lily x reader.
word count. 9.5k.
tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf
note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one
HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society.
At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black.
Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.
Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun.
Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways.
But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun.
Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused.
You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.”
Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt.
“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?”
“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”
You reach over to smack his head, scowling.
“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?”
You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?”
“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.”
“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.”
Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)
“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—”
Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society.
“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly.
Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.”
You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?”
The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it.
That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.
“That slimy bitch!”
Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity.
The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give.
You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress.
You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry.
You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight.
But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat.
You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period.
When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then—
��That’s Sirius.”
You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.
Sirius Black.
“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit.
“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.”
Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”
You gasp. “That’s horrible!”
Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.”
You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either.
After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”
“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.)
“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”
A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.”
Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.”
You grimace. “Which cousin?”
He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”
This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.”
“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.”
“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”
“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.”
When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.”
You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.”
“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice.
You nod.
Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”
Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.”
The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.
You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe.
You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.
They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.”
Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you.
You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.”
When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?”
Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?”
Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.”
“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.”
“Oh, Harry. . .”
It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?”
You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath.
“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”
“It’s—”
“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”
“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly.
“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?”
“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.”
“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?”
You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”
“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes.
Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.”
Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be.
“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”
Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.”
“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space.
A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered.
Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved.
Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease.
(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open.
“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”
“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)
But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision.
“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.”
“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears.
“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!”
James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.”
Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.”
With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked.
Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?”
You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations.
“It was fine,” You say in a daze.
Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?”
Were you?
You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend!
There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize.
Then, you find it.
Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face.
It’s a space on that wall just for you.
James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.”
“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much.
James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”
“James, I can’t do this.”
That’s all you say before you run out of the door.
(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.)
You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe.
James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”
You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.”
“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.”
You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well.
James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.”
“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes.
He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.”
“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”
He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!”
You don’t look back.
(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.”
Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair.
“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.”
James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”
“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.
You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you.
Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?”
Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”
“Got anymore stories?” He asks.
You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!”
Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?”
“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.”
Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.”
“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater.
Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra.
You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.”
“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more.
“Certain,” You respond, yawning.
As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones.
“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!”
Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out.
“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came.
“I know,” You say defeatedly.
“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.”
“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.”
Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?”
“I don’t know,” You say honestly.
Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.
“What?”
“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”
(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora.
You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—”
“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”
Oh, Harry knows.
And Hermione knows it all too well.
“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”
At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.”
You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.”
Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”
Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home.
You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order.
“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips.
Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.”
“I’m always right.” You pout.
Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”
“Without a doubt.”
You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.
“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.”
As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back.
How lucky you are.
“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen.
“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly.
You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.”
Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!”
Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”
You grin. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.”
“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.”
Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor
“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway.
Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:
“We’re all getting married!”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.”
You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.”
Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will.
“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.
You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!”
Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.”
You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?”
Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.”
“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.”
Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.”
“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.”
Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?”
“His hair?” James exclaims in horror.
Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”
“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.”
“I’m telling Euphemia on you!”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll.
Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”
“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.”
You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”
“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them.
(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.”
“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?”
“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”
You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.”
James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.”
You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)
Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness.
Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters.
The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement.
Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue.
“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead.
“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.”
“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?”
When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast.
“Avada Kedavra!”
You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor.
“No!”
You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice.
“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh.
“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?”
“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”
“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need.
“Expulso!”
Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down.
“Accio wand!”
The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense.
“Peter?” You call out.
“Crucio!”
The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt.
“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!”
It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.
“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.”
“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.”
You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat.
“Defodio!”
You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground.
That just leaves one more problem.
Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.”
Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.
“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.”
Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.”
“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.”
“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die, s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.”
Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow.
Oh.
Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work.
You just wanted to rest now.
The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words.
“Avada Kedavra.”
(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms.
You’ll feel my blood on your skin.
You’re a dead man.
Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.”
“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely.
Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?”
Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?”
Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?”
Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.”
Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.
Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?”
“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors.
James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!”
“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.”
James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.)
ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus.
He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains.
You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.)
Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”
He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by.
“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”
And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for.
end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!
#hp angst#hp fluff#hp imagine#hp x reader#james potter x reader#lily evans x reader#marauders angst#marauders fluff#marauders imagine#marauders x reader#sirius black x reader#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders fluff#remus lupin x reader#sunny's hp fics
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Babysitter - Part 2
Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~3.8k
cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), explicit language, cheating, pregnancy, smut – PIV sex (doggy style)
Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your summer babysitting job turned adulterous summer scandal.
Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the kind words and support on Part 1 of this! I hope you enjoy part 2, and who knows, maybe I'll write a part 3 one day lol. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.
Taglist: @scorpiosugar @diegojeanne @f4irygard3n @cvixmei @soniiyi - more tags in the comments
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, holding the pregnancy test, hoping that somehow, you’ll blink away the second line indicating that you are indeed pregnant.
“No way.” Chiyo waits for you outside the stall, the apprehension in her voice apparent.
“Yes. I’m…” There’s a lump in your throat you have to swallow before you finish your sentence. “Pregnant.”
Your best friend’s silence on the other side only makes you panic more, but you don’t blame her. What can she really say to make any of this better? To stop your world from turning upside down?
She whispers your name quietly, at a complete loss for words. Then, she clears her throat, sounding as if she’s fighting tears herself. “I’m going to buy you a melon pan. Just…wait for me here, okay?” It’s the only consolation she can offer you in this moment, huddled in a public restroom of a convenience store; you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You wait for her to leave, completely alone now. As soon as she’s gone, you sob into your hands.
It's not that you oppose being a mother. You’ve always imagined handing a positive pregnancy test to the love of your life with the biggest smile on your face, excited to raise a family together. Ideally, this would have happened sometime in the future, once you’ve established yourself as a full-fledged adult. Not like this: twenty-one years-old, less than a year until graduation without the slightest clue what you’re doing with your life. Worst of all, the father isn’t your husband, a boyfriend, even a friend. It’s Toji Fushiguro, the dad of the little boy you babysat over the summer, the husband of the kind woman who hired you. You still haven’t forgiven yourself for your adultery, the guilt eating away at you since the start of that lecherous summer fling. And now, you have this pee-on-a-stick to remind you how incredibly reckless you were to get involved with him in the first place. How undeniably irresponsible you were to have unprotected sex with a married man. Sure, it was the best sex you’ll probably ever have in your life. But was it worth it?
You wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper, tossing it in the trash bin. Knowing that no good will come out of sulking in the 7-11 bathroom any longer, you finally exit the stall, washing your hands clean at the sink. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, fixated on your belly, wondering what it will look like round and full of life. It buzzes again, snapping you out of your trance. When you check to see who’s messaging, you almost drop your phone out of shock.
Somehow, someway, the universe has it out for you. Because in the most perfectly disastrous timing ever, Mrs. Fushiguro decides to contact you.
~~~
A week later, you’re sitting on the train, heading to the Fushiguro household. Your stomach is in knots, both from anxiety and from the morning sickness. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin sticky against your clothing in this hot weather. The closer you approach your destined stop, the more and more nervous you get, almost convinced to call the whole thing off.
Believe it or not, Mrs. Fushiguro did not contact you to confront you about the dirty deeds you did with her husband. Instead, she messaged you in dire need of a babysitter once again. She spares you the details, asking if you could meet her in person to better explain herself. And for whatever reason, you agree.
You haven’t come up with a solid plan yet on what you want to do about your little predicament. So far, the only people that know are Chiyo and your parents, who, after the initial shock of it all, have been surprisingly supportive. They advised you to take the rest of the term off, which you were able to get arranged quickly through your school. This gives you several weeks to decide what you need to do. With one issue resolved, it leaves you with the next, and the most pressing: whether or not you should tell the father. The last thing you want is to break apart the Fushiguro family. You’re fully prepared to raise this baby as a single mother, which, with the help of your parents and best friend, seems doable. Besides, you’re not even sure if you want Toji to be involved considering his complete lack of interest in his other child, Megumi. Despite that, you believe that as the father, he has the right to know. Can you gather the courage to actually tell him?
Still lost in your train of thought, you hop off to walk to the house. When you arrive, you spot Mrs. Fushiguro already outside, leaning against her car in the driveway with little Megumi in her arms. They both smile upon seeing you, warming your heart. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is to come.
“Hello Mrs. Fushiguro,” you greet her, bowing politely, too shy to meet her gaze. “How are you?”
“Doing really well. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She lets her son down, who steps towards you until he’s hugging your knee, cooing. “I wanted to talk to you in person about my complicated situation.”
“Is everything alright?” you ask, unable to resist kneeling down to meet Megumi at eye level, making funny faces at him.
She giggles. “Oh, everything is great! The divorce finally went through and I’m living with my new boyfriend now, who’s been the absolute best, especially with Megumi.”
You make a shocked expression, mouth agape, exaggerated for the kid’s entertainment, though you’re pretty much stunned yourself. “Divorce…?”
“Yeah! Toji and I have been separated for a long time now. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that over the summer. You’re still so young after all, no need to rope you into adult things.”
You almost bust out laughing at the irony, but you hold your tongue, continuing to listen to her.
She sighs, flipping her long, beautiful hair behind her shoulders. “That being said, I still care about the guy. I mean, he is the father of my child. Without me or Megumi there on a regular basis, the whole house has gone to shit. It seems like he’s actually taking this divorce pretty hard. So, I want to hire you as a babysitter for my ex-husband. Just for a little while until he can get back up on his feet.”
Another shocked face, which makes Megumi laugh while dread sinks into your chest. “Babysitter…?”
“Babysitter, housekeeper, whatever you want to call it. You did such a wonderful job with him over the summer, even while you were taking care of Megumi! I don’t know what you were feeding him. Whatever it was, he was definitely a little bit nicer when you were around.”
Lewd flashbacks replay in your mind of Toji eating you out sloppily, slurping up all your pussy juices in every room of the house. You focus on the ground, too ashamed to look at her. “Mrs. Fushiguro, I don’t know if I can do this.”
She squats to your level, reaching for your hand, holding it gently in hers. “I know this is a lot of ask. You’re the only one I can rely on for this. Please.”
A sense of déjà vu hits you. There’s desperation in her tone and it tugs at your heartstrings the same way it did when you first met her a few months ago. It doesn’t help that Megumi is now squeezing the index finger of your other hand, eyes full of curious wonder, grip surprisingly strong for such a young child. Would she be pleading with you like this if she knew the truth about you, Toji, and the baby? Even though they were separated during this whole ordeal, it doesn’t make what you did any better; you still decided to do it regardless of their marital status.
Maybe you can use this opportunity as a way to atone.
You finally look at her, giving the most convincing smile you can muster, trying your best to ignore the wave of nausea washing over you. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
~~~
Mrs. Fushiguro asks you to start at noon the following day, giving her enough time to notify her ex about your temporary employment. When you use the set of keys she gave you to open the front door, you step inside cautiously, not sure what to expect. You’ve been dreading this impromptu reunion all night, wondering if you could even face him.
It’s a mess inside, heaps of dirty laundry scattered all over the furniture, fast food wrappers and empty ramen bowls littered on the kitchen counter. There’s a stench lingering in the stale air in here and you almost think the worse, but Mrs. Fushiguro had warned you about this. Seeing it in person is more heartbreaking than disgusting. Toji really is taking this divorce hard. It wouldn’t be right to burden him with more life-changing news, right?
You begin by gathering all the trash into garbage bags, flattening any cardboard to recycle. By the looks of it, he’s been living off junk food and protein bars for the past month. The refrigerator is near empty, aside from a questionable take-out container in the very back, which you end up dumping along with everything else. You make it your next task to get groceries after you load the washing machine.
When you return from the store, Toji remains absent. Nerves prevent you from leaning against the bedroom door to listen for any signs of him in there. His ex-wife mentioned that he goes out to gamble at the horse races whenever he’s short on cash, so it’s likely he’s there. Still, you’re anticipating his return, mentally preparing yourself for how you’ll behave around him. Given your current circumstances, you are serious about turning over a new leaf. No more funny business with him. Absolutely not.
It’s near dinnertime now and you’ve miraculously accomplished tidying the house and doing his laundry all within a few hours. You even managed to cook soup for dinner, full of hearty beef and fresh vegetables, something to provide nutrients compared to the processed food he’s been consuming lately. You’re stirring the pot when you hear keys jingle from outside the front door. He comes in, clad in a tight-fitting black shirt that accentuates his muscles and grey sweatpants that don't leave much to the imagination. A plastic bag is slung behind his shoulder, clearly from a convenience store. Despite his concerning diet, his physique is still impressive as ever. Just one glance at him has you fluttering below your belly, replaying the erotic memories you share together. You turn to face him, standing up straight, feigning confidence while you fret internally. He looks at you, brow raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his lips.
“Hello sir,” you greet him, bowing politely. Acting as if he’s a total stranger and not the man who rocked your entire world over the summer, now with evidence to prove it.
He sets the bag on the counter, revealing a couple of ramen packets inside. “What’s with the formalities?” he asks, grinning. “If I remember correctly, you were screaming my name nonstop the last time you were here.”
Heat rushes into your cheeks instantly, not surprised by his vulgarity, though still embarrassed. You clear your throat, trying to stay strong. “I’m here to work. Nothing else.”
He walks towards you, his stature casting a daunting shadow as he steps closer and closer, towering over you. His voice is low, borderline threatening to a point that has you trembling. “So you don’t want me to fuck you anymore?”
You swallow hard, composure wavering. “That’s right.” Even you don’t fully believe it when it comes out of your own mouth, how can you expect him to?
There’s a strange look in his eyes, almost like he’s disappointed by your response. He turns his back to you, mumbling something about taking a shower. You watch him enter his bedroom, hearing him clear as day before he shuts the door with a dull thud. “I guess you don’t want me either.”
~~~
A week into being Toji’s live-in housekeeper, the two of you figure out a routine together that involves minimal interaction. You wake up in the morning to cook breakfast, eating it quickly and leaving the rest for him while you go out. You use this time to go for a walk, meet with Chiyo or your parents, do some grocery shopping, or just sit at the nearby park, enjoying the sun with your baby, who grows little-by-little each day.
Toji is usually gone the whole afternoon, either working out or gambling, so you’re able to do chores back at the house, like cleaning his room. He doesn’t return until dinnertime when tension seems to be at its highest. A big reason for that is because he’s made it a habit to eat right after his shower, shirtless and with his legs crossed on the floor, displaying a perfectly visible outline of his manhood. It’s distracting, to say the least. Chiyo mentioned the other day how you can have an increased libido during the first trimester. That’s definitely proving itself now.
Aside from the half-nakedness, something else surprises you about him. The two of you mostly avoid conversation with each other, eating in silence at the dining table while sneaking furtive glances whenever you get a chance. But he never fails to mutter, “Thank you for the meal,” before washing the dishes at the sink, retreating back into his room when he’s done. It’s the tiniest act of consideration that makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.
Tonight you sit across from each other as usual. You just finished eating the chicken katsu you made for dinner, along with a couple of side dishes you prepped earlier in the week. His abs look especially spectacular today and you find it harder than usual to stop peeking at them.
“You’re gonna burn a hole through me with the way you’re staring,” he says, chewing his last bite.
Shit, caught red-handed. You quickly look down at your empty bowl, mumbling an apology. “Sorry. I just…I can tell your hard work is paying off.”
“Yours too. The house has never been cleaner. And the food has never been better.” He’s looking directly at you, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you.”
It’s no good. Your hormones are raging, sexual desire courses through you, all from that stupidly handsome grin and a silly little compliment. How did you ever think you could resist him?
You stand up, grabbing everything from the table. “I’ll do the dishes,” you offer, walking them to the sink, trying to calm down.
It’s no use, though. He sees right through you.
He gives you only a minute alone before he follows you, caging you between his big arms, your back to him, his mouth hot on your ear. “Let me help you.”
You let out a frustrated huff, already unraveling from his proximity. The smallest jut of your hips and there it is, his erection pressed to your ass, throbbing and even more massive than you remember it. “Toji, we can’t,” you whine, not making any attempt to separate yourself from him.
He slides his hands around your hips, pulling you in closer, rubbing his rock-hard cock against you. “I know you want it. I know you want me.”
And he’s right. You do. You want him with you, around you, inside of you. In all the ways he’s had you before, in new ways he’s never had but you’ve fantasized about. There’s no denying it anymore. You want him. You want him so fucking bad.
He takes you right there at the kitchen sink, bent over with your grip tight on the edge of the counter, pounding away at your wet, needy cunt. Neither of you bother to remove your clothes completely, Toji’s sweatpants shrugged down his thighs just enough, yours pooled around your ankles, soaked panties at your knees. “Fuck, Toji!” you moan, sticking your ass out to meet his thrusts.
His fingers find your clit, rubbing slippery circles around it. “Say it,” he grunts, increasing the pace.
Drools leaks out from the sides of your lips, too fucked out to process what’s he’s asking you. “What?”
“Say you want me,” he demands, massaging your swollen bud so deep, you feel it all the way down to your fucking toes.
“I want you. I want you, Toji!” you respond breathlessly, squeezing him tight with your orgasm.
“Fuck, I missed you. Missed my good girl.” He continues to fuck you, slowly now, relishing every second of being inside you. “Always so fucking creamy for me, fuck.” He pulls you up to embrace you from behind, fingers still pleasuring you, his other hand at your chin to face you towards him. The two of you kiss passionately, lips smacking, tongues swirling. So sloppy and wanton that it puts you on the verge of another orgasm, completely succumbed to pleasure.
You sleep with him in his bedroom after several more orgasms and a big one of his own, wrapped comfortably in his arms, with his cock and creampie inside you the rest of the night. For the first time in a while, you’re oddly at peace.
~~~
Your reckless decision making has led you into another troublesome scenario. Fortunately, you haven’t had any morning sickness the entire first week of your employment at the Fushiguro household. Unfortunately, it decides to come back today. There’s no way you’ll be able to make it to the bathroom near your room, so you have no choice but to hop out of Toji’s bed and run into his, clutching onto the porcelain bowl until it’s all out. You rinse your mouth off at the sink, hoping Toji didn’t hear any of it. But you know all too well by now that luck is never on your side.
He’s sitting up against the headboard, watching you come out of the bathroom. “Did you just puke in there?” There’s a hint of concern in his normally blunt tone.
You nod, bending down to retrieve your underwear and pants off the floor, avoiding his gaze.
“Are you sick?” he asks, the worry even more obvious now.
Shaking your head, you respond, “No, I just…I’m feeling a little nauseous, that’s all.” You walk towards the door, still not willing to look at him. “There should be leftovers in the fridge, so help yourself to breakfast. I’m going to lay down.”
He calls out your name. “Wait – ”
You ignore him, closing the door shut behind you, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you retreat into your own bedroom, muffling your sobs into a pillow. After your wild romp last night, this bout of morning sickness has swiftly brought you back to reality. You’re still harboring the secret growing in your womb from the man who gave it to you to begin with.
There’s a firm knock on your door, startling you. “Hey, it’s me.”
In this split-second, you decide to stop with the lies and finally tell the truth. You open the door, Toji standing in front of you fully clothed in his usual attire, a serious expression on his face. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
Eyes still puffy from crying, you take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.”
His mouth parts the slightest bit, no words coming out of it. The silence seems to linger on forever. You fill it by rambling all the thoughts that have been swimming in your head the last couple of weeks. “Before you start freaking out or anything, I’m telling you so that you know. I don’t expect you to be involved. I’m perfectly willing to raise this child on my own. And besides, I won’t be completely alone. I have my family to help me, my friends too. I’ll be totally fine. This baby is going to be well taken care of, I’ll make sure of it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t know how. But I feel better already because this has been stressing me out. It’s all going to work out okay? I think. I hope.”
After the long spiel, he stares down at the floor, jaw tight, mouth opening and closing, unsure how to respond. Eventually, he says, “I have to go.”
When he leaves the house, you crawl into your bed, bawling until there are no tears left for you to cry.
~~~
You wake up in the late afternoon to an enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen. It’s been hours since you’ve been in bed, moping about how poorly everything went with Toji. His reaction left you devastated. While you always expected to do this alone, hearing his negative response to it hurts more than you anticipated it to.
Curious, you make your way into the kitchen, shocked to find Toji standing over the stove, stirring a pot, the soothing scent of soup surrounding you. “What’s going on?” you ask, noticing a plethora of fresh vegetables laid out on the counter, along with a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and various snacks.
He turns the heat off, covering the pot with a lid. “I’m cooking,” he answers, facing you with a grin on his face. “Bone broth is a good source of calcium. And you need to keep eating lots of veggies so our baby is strong, like me. No more of this instant ramen shit.”
“I thought you were upset,” you say, stepping closer to him.
“I know. I’m sorry I left like that. I was shocked at first, I’ll admit it. But I started to get excited." He takes your hands in his. "I have a lot of regrets in my life, but being a father isn’t one of them. Being a bad father is. I want to change. I need to change. For Megumi. For our new little one. For you.”
Strangely enough, you believe in his heartfelt declaration. You smile at him, letting him go to stand in front of the stove, taking a whiff of the comforting aroma of the hot soup he made for you, happy tears welling in your eyes. He hugs you gently from behind, nuzzling his nose to you. “I’m going to do it right this time, okay? I know I can do it with you.”
As Toji caresses your belly, kissing you softly along the neck, you feel the weight that’s been heavy on your shoulders ease up. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x reader#toji smut#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji x you#jjk smut#cw pregnancy
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Infernal Shadows 02
Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.
Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.
Song for this chapter: HAUSER - Adagio (Albinoni)
A/N: I’m so glad part one did well! I really liked this idea and hoped other people would too. As always comment if you want to be tagged and I will tag you in the next post! I wanted this to be three parts, but depending on how much I can fit in this chapter and the next one, I’ll see if I need to make four parts. The song at the beginning of this chapter is meant to be played when the line “ The music picked up” Is read. Skip to 5:35 for it to play smoothly, or as smoothly as possible.
Word count: 3.k or something over that idk I got too lazy to count :(
Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote
Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part three.
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Within, the grand foyer unveiled itself, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail in stark contrast against a black and white color scheme. Crystal chandeliers, dangling from lofty black ceilings, cast their brilliance upon white walls adorned with ornate mirrors. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich black and white fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, establishing cozy settings for guests to assemble and engage in enriching conversations. Each room murmured tales of a past era – intricately patterned black and white wallpaper, frames gilded in black to showcase classical art, and a subtle aroma of aged wood and lavender lingering in the air, harmonizing with the monochromatic elegance. The guests walking in all marveled at the details of the mansion.
Charlotte and Vagatha both stepped in, Charlotte in awe of the detailing. A shadow figure bent down slightly to offer her a drink, to which she happily took.
“Vaggie this is all so beautiful. I hope I can make a good impression.” Charlotte said, turning to her partner to ease her nerves. Vagatha just smiled, a hand on her shoulder lovingly.
“You’re gonna do great babe, besides, there’s so many people here, if one likes it I’m sure other people will get on board too.” Vagatha said.
“Or they can laugh at you if one person points out how ridiculous it is.” Husk said, chugging his drink before placing it back on the servers tray.
“Thanks for the kind words Husk.” Vagatha said sarcastically. He just shrugged, looking towards the bar area which was practically calling him over.
Upstairs in your room, you stared at yourself in the mirror as your shadows made the finishing touches on your outfit. Draped in a long, elegant black gown that gracefully embraced your commanding figure, the fabric cascaded like shadows. Delicate chain motifs intertwine with the dress, creating an alluring dance of darkness. A chain belt cinches your waist, a subtle nod to your captivating ability to ensnare and command over your shadows. Completing the regalia, silver chain cuffs adorn your wrists, reflecting both power and refinement.
“Madame, the guests are all in the lobby awaiting your arrival.” One of the shadows said. You nodded, stepping down from your showcase, winking to yourself in the mirror before chuckling to yourself. A shadow approaches you, bowing in respect before holding out a tray with your drink, a contrast to your dark colors. You take the glass in your hand, another shadow lightly putting a thermometer in your drink so it’s the perfect temperature for you, fifteen point five degrees Celsius. The liquid is a light yellow-ish green, Lafite-Rothschild, an expensive French wine you tried in 1906 when you were alive. Lifting it to your lips, you take a long sip and sigh, the spicy and earth notes, mixed with a hint of tobacco and red Barrie’s dance on your tongue like a performance of Gavotte. You pull back with a sigh, setting the glass down, a perfect Ridel Vinum Bordeaux, personally crafted for you as the bottom of the glass is a Smokey black, fading into clear glass towards the top.
“Let’s get this Gala started shall we~?”
In the lobby, guests were socializing amongst themselves. Velvet, Vox and Valentino had split for a short while. After the incident outside, the two overlords wouldn’t stop tantalizing the picture box about his fit of frustration dealing with the Radio Demon. From the lobby, there were large crystal doors revealing the back exterior of the house. The greenery was just perfect, with cobblestone flooring revealing another bloody fountain. Vox stood with his drink, speaking to some sinner he couldn’t remember the name of, about how well his business was going.
“You ever get,” Vox asked, eyeing one of the shadows who stood in a corner, white eyes soulless as they held out drinks to guests. “Creeped out by those, things?” Vox asked, turning back to the sinner. He just scoffed.
“Please, they’re always around and as far as I know, harmless.” The sinner said. At that, a shadow appeared between the two, taking their empty glasses and replacing it with new, full ones. Vox tried his hardest not to seem alarmed at this, and took the glass silently, sipping his drink slowly as it floated away. It was then he took in the shadows appearance. They all looked the same. Tall figures, Smokey outlines, but no feel or hands, just a faded end to their limbs. Their eyes were white and soulless, almost as it they were vacant, a shell of what they used to be. There were no facial features, just two white circles and a thin white line for their mouth. Each one however, had a light Smokey chain around their chest, wrapped in the shape of an X.
“What are the chains for then? They’re pretty much smoke, what do they need chains forever?” Vox asked. The associate laughed, but before he could answer, another overlord stepped in.
“They have chains because they’re claimed souls.” Fredrick Von Eldritch says, his sister Bethesda in toe. The two grin, a shadow following behind them with a tray of their drinks. “If you get invited to the gala long enough, you get a personal one.” He said with a wink, gesturing to the shadow behind the two.
“They’re quite cute once you get used to them.” Bethesda said with a smile, cooing at the shadow lightly. Yet, it still remained expressionless.
“Actually, now that you say that.” The sinner says, looking around for a moment. “It’s been awfully quiet with a laugh track being played.” He says, referring to Alastor. Vox just rolls his eyes.
“Who gives a shit about where that old timey freak is?” Vox asks. Fredrick and Bethesda snicker to each other, catching Vox’s attention.
“Probably hunting for his dear Madame.” Bethesda said dramatically, laying her head on her brothers shoulder and batting her lashes playfully. Fredrick and the sinner laughed at his sisters antics, but Vox grew serious.
“What does that mean? He knows her?” Vox asked, to which Fredrick scoffed, finishing his drink before reaching for another off the shadows server tray.
“Of course he does. She died before him, and they’re the closest overlords in time period. Well, aside from Zestial and her.” Fredrick explained. Vox didn’t say anything else, instead looking to the red ‘moon’ of hell, before glancing at the blood fountain. He had heard rumors about being at the Madame’s table, and how she gave the inside to all her projects and plans before the next extermination. Apparently, this year was supposed to be ‘different’ as people had been talking.
“When does this dinner start anyway? We’ve been standing out here for two hours.” Vox said annoyed.
“In a few minutes, Madame will make her grand entrance. She will socialize with the guests as it is polite to have one on one time with them. Then she will spend the rest of the time while the orchestra gets together deciding on contenders to sit at her table.” A shadow walking by said, stopping to stare at Vox. “Madame is always watching.” It then said, turning to serve other guests. Vox said nothing, instead turning on his heel and making his way inside the mansion. How could someone feel suffocated outside? Fredrick and Bethesda said nothing, watching him go, but sharing a glance between each other before making their leave too, leaving the sinner all by his lonesome.
Inside, Charlotte and Vagatha conversed about how she could get people behind her project.
“Maybe if I sing-“
“Please no. These people are too…” Vagatha said, glancing around the room. Everyone seemed too, fake. Vagatha knew Charlotte being herself around these people would do absolutely no good to the hotel, and though she hated telling Charlotte these things, she knew her kindness would be frowned upon, and made fun of. “Serious for that kind of thing.” Vagatha finished, taking a sip of her champagne. She settled for champagne in a flute while Charlotte drank water, wanting to hydrate herself in hopes to calm her nerves.
“I heard that Madame might be making her entrance soon.” Charlotte said nervously, looking around. She half expected her parents to show up, but knew how they rarely liked getting involved in overlord affairs. She’d be surprised if they showed up.
“Then when she does you can try to pitch your idea to her.” Vagatha said supportively. Charlotte just smiled and nodded, hoping someone would listen to her. She had tried practicing on two sinners moments ago, to which they both laughed and called her delusional. The defeat was beginning to get to her, and she hadn’t even started yet.
With Velvet, she began studying the interior of the old-styled mansion. She was trying her hardest to not be too rude about it, but of course she had her comments, but ultimately kept them to herself. Cramoisie, your fashion line, was the top fashion brand in hell, everyone wanted a piece of it. Velvet had never had an article for herself, despite trying her hardest to get something, anything, even a sample. But people feigned for it like drugs. Velvets line was successful sure, but with your validation and guidance, she could become perfection, the same way you were. Everyone in hell looked up to you, shit, you had even gotten Lilith’s praise as she was photographed wearing a custom piece you designed for her. Your work was art in its purist form, and Velvet kept a close eye on her other colleagues to make sure they didn’t fuck your chance up. Velvet had her assistant hold samples and sketches of designs Velvet had been working on, wanting to show you her best work in hopes of winning you over. She could brag about having you support her line, and her fans would die of excitement. Maybe, she could get you to design her a custom piece, or Velvet could design one for you. The possibilities were limitless, if you agreed to meet with her of course. But that was all the more reason why she needed to make sure she had a seat at your table tonight. She needed to get close to you.
“Are you fucking high?” Velvet whispered to Valentino, who just chuckled softly at her.
“What’s the matter hermosa? Just enjoy the Gala, we’re here to have fun right?” He asked with a giggle. Velvet huffed, deciding to find Vox, hoping he could straighten Valentino out. Valentino would not fuck up her chance tonight.
Near the large staircase in the middle of the room, Alastor stood, glass of whiskey in his clawed hands. He smiles, humming to himself while quietly back up into a wall, careful to scan the room quickly before he disappears into the shadows. Then, moments later, appears in a room separate from the gala. It’s a study, your study. Alastor takes a step forward and quickly the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, casting larger, more dramatic silhouettes that seemed to dance on the walls. The interplay of darkness and light only heightened the mysterious allure of the study. In the midst of this chiaroscuro ambiance, Alastor found himself surrounded by an atmosphere that mirrored the complex nature of the figure depicted in the portrait hanging above the fireplace, which was in the far back wall of the study. It was the only light source in the room. Black wooden shelves lined against the tall walls, showcasing famous pieces of literature, all hand picked and to your liking. The fire place, crafted with dark marble, commanded his attention. Above the mantel, a striking portrait of Madame hung, capturing his focus, like a trance. The image portrayed a being universally admired, yet equally feared; someone who elicited both admiration and intimidation all at once, you.
“Hm, hiding now are we?” Alastor asks with a grin, tutting lightly. “That’s not very proper of you Madame~” He says, calling out to you. Seconds later, a dark shadow appears in the corner of the room, taking up the entire corner, before a shadowy figure steps out. Similar to the servant’s out in the lobby, Alastor’s eye twitch’s slightly.
“Oh don’t be so pissy. You know no one gets to see me before my entrance.” You say, the shadow expressionless, but Alastor can hear your tone through the figure, taunting him. He sighs, setting his staff on a slant along his foot.
“And here I thought I could connect with an old friend.” Alastor said with a chuckle, staring down the shadowy figure, hoping his gaze would ease you to show yourself to him. But alas, stuck in your ways, you didn’t show yourself, instead laughing, though the figure did not open its mouth, making your ‘shadow a-presence’ all the more eerie.
“If you really want to speak with me it can wait until my entrance. I should be done soon.” You say, before Alastor just smiles, tossing his staff from hand to hand.
“Well if you’re really going to make me wait, mind you speed the process up a bit? You know it doesn’t take much to make you look breath-taking.” Alastor compliments, but earns a scoff from you.
“Oh please, don’t start with me ‘Radio Demon.’” You mock, before the shadow figure begins to step back.
“Wait, a moment before you go.” Alastor says, standing his staff on the floor. The shadow figure stops, before you speak again.
“Make it quick. You know how much energy it takes to keep this up.” You say.
“So, about this hotel business. I know she’s planning to talk to you about it.”
“Yes the idea you tell me so much about.” You say sarcastically. Alastor had told you bits and pieces about the princess’s project, but didn’t tell you what it was for exactly, leaving you to wonder how important it really was if even he wouldn’t speak on it.
“Well you know how much I crave entertainment. Is it possible to make a request for the seating arraignment tonight?” Alastor asks. You laugh, figure still unmoving.
“Humorous to think you even have a seat. You’ve been gone for what? Seven years?” You say with a scoff.
“You’ve been gone decades my dear, you didn’t even show up to your last twenty gala’s, having your pity shadows do it for you. I doubt you should be speaking on the matter.”
At that, you chuckle to yourself before the shadow begins to back into the corner, black smoke enveloping the corner like a cloud. “I presume you would be correct. Well, I’m off now. Don’t sneak into my quarters again.” You say finally before disappearing. Alastor just grins, stepping into his own shadow, joining the other guests.
The shadows had slowly but, eventually ushered the guests into the lobby, everyone gathering around the staircase as the shadows lined up against the railings, the orchestra playing the music you had specifically requested. You were about to make your grand entrance, something you hadn’t done in centuries. Everyone stood around, awaiting your arrival, the shadows momentarily disappearing to give the guests more space to crowd around. Candles lit along the walls, as well as floating lights appearing going up the staircase. There, the shadows took their place, two on each step on opposite sides, facing each other. The music picked up, the lights focusing at the top of the stairs. Black smoke began to roll down the steps slowly, the anticipation for your arrival growing. The music gets calm for a moment, a larger shadow figure standing at the top of the staircase. It’s larger than any of the other shadows in the room, standing at fifteen feet tall. It speaks in a monotone voice, but loud and commanding.
“Thank you all for your attendance tonight. The Crimson Gala is held once every year to start the new year with all those who survived the extermination. This being said, Madame would like to say her personal congratulations for not being apart of the bloodshed this year. While the past years she has used me to say that she will unfortunately not be in attendance, I am pleased to say that tonight, along with all the new guests, she will make her grand entrance. Presenting to you, the prowess of darkness and queen of shadows, Madame.”
The lights shine bright, and the shadow vanishes quickly. Velvet shushes Vox and Valentino, eyes practically bulging out of her skull to see you. Alastor just stares, waiting in anticipation. Charlie claps her hands quietly to herself while Vaggie just smiles. Rosie sips her glass, eyes waiting to see what outfit you’ve put together this time. At the top of the staircase, a large black smokey circle opens at the bottom of the floor, smoke swirling upwards slowly in a tornado form, smoke getting quicker as it swirls around itself. It gets larger, and guests closer to the stairs have to back up a bit as the wind picks up. Carmilla turns her face to the side, not wanting the wind to mess up her hair too much. Finally, the music picks up again, the peak point in the song, which lasts eight seconds, before the smoke falls to the side in one swoop, leaving you in the midst, now on display for all guests to see. The music continues, the chains against your dress glistening under the light. The music continues the play as you take steps down, looking at the guests. There’s a serious expression on your face, but somehow neutral all the same. Your shadows had added last minute black lace gloves, which went up to your forearm. The bottom of your dress had a lace trimming, as well as the bodice being laced with trim along the bust area. The jewelry was a simple black diamond crystal on a metal chain around your neck, paired with black diamond earrings. The cuff links on your hand remained all the same though. Finally reaching the end of the steps, everyone clapped, now finally being graced with your presence.
Velvet was in awe, staring at you with wide eyes like a child being gifted the most precious thing. Her excitement grew enormously, watching you shake hands and socialize with guests. She had never seen you before, after you had gone ghost for centuries, hardly anyone had photos of you. Hell she didn’t even know what you sounded like.
Charlie was so excited to meet you. She hadn’t seen you in, forever, and was now finally excited to be seen as your equal. Well, that was what she had hoped at least. Having seen a portrait of you in her parents' home when she was younger, she learned of the close relationship between Lilith and you. The anticipation had built over the years, and now, finally, she looked forward to being seen as your equal. Her hope was to hopefully get your support for the hotel, aiming to elevate her standing in the eyes of others. With your backing, she believed people would take both her and the redemption project more seriously, fostering a genuine desire for redemption. Maybe it would even work.
Husk smiled as he watched you socialize with guests. He was glad to finally see you back out again. He never knew why you went into hiding of course, but he never had the balls to ask, so he just stood quiet. When you disappeared, it was after a particularly rough extermination, and he knew something had happened, he just didn’t know what. Since then, the world only had glimpses of you to go on. Some sinners were starting to think you were a myth, since you never showed your face at the Crimson Gala, especially since you were the host.
Vox was taken aback, a sense of confusion and unease settling within him. Your presence had caught him off guard; he had anticipated something different, perhaps an older figure. The unexpected impact left him feeling uneasy, realizing the gravity of your influence. It dawned on him why Velvet had stressed the importance of making a favorable impression. Apart from Zestial and the twins, you stood as one of the strongest and most enduring overlords. In Vox's mind, securing your alliance was imperative for the success of his company. Your potential support would make his endeavors foolproof. Everything had to be flawless – not for any personal reasons, of course, but solely for the sake of his company. He needed you.
Making your rounds to guests, you began to get closer to your colleagues. With a wave to Stolas, and a nod to Zeezie, you run into the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. He grins, sharp teeth getting you. He smiles and nods his head, and you nod back. Alastor takes in your stoic expression, before carefully taking in your outfit.
“My, my, Madame, you’ve truly outdone yourself tonight. Your choice in attire is as captivating as ever – a perfect blend of elegance and sensibility. Quite the spectacle for the grand event, don’t you think?” He asked, holding his arm out to you. You take it, and the two of you walk around the lobby together, conversing.
“Well you don’t look to bad for yourself. Maybe going into hibernation was perfect for you.” You say back, and he grins.
“You’re too kind darling.” He says, dead heart quickening. He puts a hand to his chest, mocking fragility. “Your words leave me breathless my dear.” He says with false dramatics. You roll your eyes and smack his arm playfully.
“Oh please, your ego is quite large enough already, yes?” You ask. He doesn’t say much else, but instead, gently moves you to the side while you look at your shadows, now waltzing around in the middle of the lobby, putting on a performance.
“Did you plan that?” Alastor asks. You shake your head.
“No, but the music is perfect for it, so I let them be. They’re already trapped with me, I might as well make them useful.” You say, and Alastor just hums, a laugh track playing. However, as the two of you walk, his track screeches to a halt upon seeing Vox approach the two of you.
“Madame.” Vox says, nodding his head. His expression is serious, and though you’ve heard of him, you’ve never seen him.
“Ah hello. Vox I presume?” You ask, free hand reaching forward to shake his own outstretched hand. The two of you shake hands, and Alastor can’t ignore the way he fights to keep his smile. Why he could just shove his staff right into that flace faced fuckers scree-
“Alastor, I suppose you’ve met Mr.Vox before, correct?” You ask. Alastor nods with a smile, and you notice the way it stretches almost painfully across his face. It makes you uneasy, but you ignore the feeling. He’d surely tell about what this is about later on in the night you supposed.
“Why yes we have! I’ve made him loose his signal quite a few times.” Alastor says with a laugh, his laugh track playing. Vox doesnt say anything, though he doesnt have too as his eye twitching had given enough away. The two clearly did not like each other. Than again, you had felt the same way about Alastor when you first met him, so the feeling was understandable.
“Madame, a dance?” Vox asked, turning his attention back to you. You thought for a moment, before untangling your arm from Alastors and nodding to Vox, taking his outstretched hand to you and leading you to the dance floor, which now had a couple other sinners dancing as well. Alastor held onto his staff tight, but relaxed as you discreetly slid him a card. In white with black lettering, cursive font. Seat number five. He was invited to your table. Guaranteed a seat. That was enough to have him back in light spirits, now searching out his dear friend Rosie to share the good news.
Velvet had been looking for you all over, her assistant close in toe. She had tried her hardest to get to you when you initially made your enterance, but alas you had been too overcrowded with people for her to get to you. She had heard rumors about how you hated rudeness and disrespect. That meant no interruptions, and no loud speaking, or vulgar language. She was sure to keep herself in check, and that meant her colleagues too. So, naturally, you could imagine her shock upon seeing Vox dancing with you on the dance floor, black dress twirling at your feet. You looked so regal, so elegant, flawless. She wanted to be just like you. She waited patiently on the sidelines, waiting for the dance to end. She could see the two of you having a conversation, but couldn’t pinpoint what about.
“So, I presume you’re one of the, newer overlords?” You asked as the two of you danced. Vox chuckled, leading you slowly.
“New? Well, maybe to you I would be. I heard you haven’t really left your own head for quite some time.” Vox says lowly. You nod, letting him dip you.
“Yes that would be correct. So what are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask, quite unsure of his purpose. Overlords are meant to have a strong leading purpose in hell, so what was his?
“Well, you’re looking at the head of Vox Tech. A software company.” He says, and you hum in understanding.
“So modern technology.” You confirm, and he nods, pearly whites shining brightly back at you.
“You’re looking at the future Madame.” Vox says, spinning you quickly, before bringing you close by your hip.
“Interesting. So, what’s your social influence?” You ask. Vox thinks for a moment, before laughing to himself.
“People have televisions in all their homes. Any piece of modern technology comes strictly from me. With a little mind control, there isn’t any influence I don’t have.” Vox says, noticing a sinner walk by with a smart watch, to which he holds a finger up to you, sending himself through it, and then to another sinner with their smartphone, making his way around the room in seconds before he’s back in front of you, stepping in time for the next number. “See? Nothing I can’t do.” He says with a wink. You nod slowly, looking around the room. Being back out in the spotlight after being gone for so long makes you feel a bit, behind. But with an overlord like this in your circle, maybe this could be a way for you to keep up with the current world, get you back up to pace. The dance finally comes to a close, and the two of you bow to one another, before you summon a card, handing it to Vox. Seat number nine. Vox grinned at you, giving you a nod. You nod back, before looking at another sinner who’s asked to speak with you. With that, you leave Vox at the dance floor, white card in hand. His spot at your table was secured. But, this made his emotions churn even more. What was this feeling he had? He was happy yes, but for the companies sake. But, maybe for once, he could mix just a little business with pleasure.
Charlotte had lost her partner at the bar and had been looking for her for quite some time. However, instead of finding Vagatha, she found you instead. You had seemed to be finishing a conversation with Vox, and though she disliked him, she took her chance the moment she saw you walking away.
“Excuse me, Madame- Miss- Um.” Charlotte said quickly, causing you to stop in your tracks. She got closer to you, now a few inches away. It was then she realized how tall you were compared to her. You were easily around seven feet, or just under that. With your heels that was. You looking down at her made her feel intimidated, small, like the child. But, feeling her nerves rise, she began to ramble again. “I know you probably have a lot to do tonight and I don’t want to take up your time, I just want you to hear me out, if that’s okay with you of course.” Charlotte said quickly, pausing to inhale. You narrowed your eyes at her, snapping your fingers and causing a shadow to appear next to you, singular glass on the tray. It was the same tall shadow from earlier, with the same drink. Again, using testing the temperature of the drink, before nodding to you so you could take it. You lifted the glass to your lips, maintaining eye contact with Charlotte as you drank the wine in one go, putting it down on the tray with a sigh.
“Go on.” You replied, now intrigued. You knew who she was. “You’re the girl with the hotel? Lucifer and Lilith’s child, correct?” You asked. Charlotte smiled, stars appearing in her eyes as she gushed.
“You know who I am?” She asked surprised. You nodded, cracking a small smile for the first time tonight, causing many eyes to stare in shock. You hardly ever smiled. In fact, there were three counts ever of you smiling in hell. Once, when you first got to hell, killing and claiming territory, and smiling once you finally settled down. The second being after World War One, when so many souls came to you seeking ‘help’ yet only being met with contracts. Third, being just before the extermination you disappeared after. You had gone through your belongings from Earth that managed to get brought to you from the surface, and was looking at family photos with one other overlord. Zestial. Now, at the gala, here was Lucifer’s brat, as some would call, making you crack a grin at her giddiness.
“Of course I know who you are. Do you forget I know your mother? You’re practically a niece of mine at this point.” You say, motioning at Charlotte to walk with you. “Now, what is this hotel I’ve heard about?” You ask. She beams at this and follows excitedly.
“OkaysobasicallyIhavethishotelandit’scalledthe’HazbinHotel’whichisforsinnerswhowantobebetterandredeemthemselvestotryand-“ You stopped her, allowing her to take a breath of air after rambling for so long. You lead her outside, finding a nearby bench to sit on. With how quickly she spoke, she needed all the ‘fresh’ air she could get right?
“Why are you speaking so quickly? Also, sinners who want to better themselves? Where would you find those?” You ask with a laugh, the same tall shadow appearing with a glass for you. Again, you sip on your drink as Charlotte collects herself together.
“Usually if I explain slowly people cut me off and I never get to finish, so I’ve gotten used to just saying everything as quickly as possible so they don’t cut me off and actually listen to what I have to say.” Charlotte says, again rather quickly. “Like I was saying; the Hazbin Hotel is a place for sinners who want to better themselves to possibly try to get into heaven through redemption, and I know what you’re thinking, we’ve all died and got sent here, but I believe people can change and that everyone deserves second chances.” Charlotte explained. She saw the look of confusion on your face, and began to speak again. “We already have two residents, who are making strides to be better people every day with group activities and I believe it’s working. If I could just get other people on board, people like you on board who actually believe in my cause, then we can get rid of extermination and maybe save some people here.” Charlotte explained. You thought for a moment, and the fact you hadn’t laughed in her face yet gave her some hope that maybe she had gotten through to you. You stood up, setting your empty glass on the tray before the shadow disappeared.
“Honestly,” You said with a sigh, looking around, your eyes landing on your shadows serving other guests. “The entire project sounds delusional.” You said sharply. Charlotte looked down at this, defeated, before standing as well.
“Well, thank you for hearing me out I guess. You’re the only other person who has aside from Alastor. So, thank you for your time.” Charlotte said, turning to walk back inside the gala, head hanging low with tears brimming her eyes. Maybe it was the connection to her mother, maybe it was because she reminded you of her mother. But, something had to change.
“I didn’t say we were done speaking Charlotte.” You said sharply again. She stopped and tensed up at that, before turning around, wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek.
“W-what?” She asked. You stepped forward to her, putting your hands flat together before smoke encased them. Then seconds later it was gone, and in your hands was a white card. You handed it to her with a nod.
“It sounds delusional. But, maybe someone will like that about you.” You said. She read the card, face dropping once she realized what it meant.
“So, so I can sit with you tonight? I can pitch my idea?” She asked excitedly. You nodded, patting her shoulder.
“Yes you may. I’ll allow you to have your time. You get thirty minutes, there will be overlords and royalty there, I’m sure someone is bound to take an interest in it.” You say. Charlotte squeals excitedly before jumping up and down, clapping her hands.
“Oh my goodness! Thank you so so so much!! You won’t regret this I swear!” Charlotte said, and you just nodded.
“Of course I won’t. I don’t make mistakes.” You say, before walking past her. “Oh, and thank Alastor for that. He was insistent you be present at my table tonight.” You say to her. She’s left standing outside in shock, watching as you walk back into the lobby to socialize with other guests.
It seemed Velvet had finally caught you, rushing her assistant to follow you as she made her way over to you.
“Madame, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight! Your presence here is like a beacon of individuality and charisma,” she exclaims, eyes sparkling. You look her up and down for a moment, stopping in your tracks to listen to her. Something feels, odd about this one. “I’ve been ardently following your unique style for ages, and it’s truly an honor to be in your presence. The way you effortlessly blend boldness with subtlety, it’s unparalleled, truly outstanding. Now, I’ve ventured into a daring new fashion brand, and I can’t help but envision you as the unrivaled star in my collection. Picture it: the illustrious Madame, gracing the world with a revolutionary expression of style. This would be the perfect way to make your way back into the public eye, and of course you would look ravishing doing so.” Velvet said, her assistant handing you sketches of Velvets designs, and photographs of some of her work on her models. “So, what do you say Madame? Will you be the luminary of a new era in Hell’s fashion?” Velvet says. You grow quiet for a moment. Aside from Rosie, you’ve had no other overlord come into the fashion realm, and Rosie is only partially in it as a side hustle, but everyone knows it’s your thing. The designs are things you would never wear, bold and odd colors together, like a child’s clothing line.
“Is this for children?” You ask. Velvet nearly chokes and her assistant tenses up.
“No Madame. It’s modern fashion.” Velvet says cautiously. She knows what she’s doing. Correcting you. No one ever does that. You don’t need to be corrected because you know what you’re looking at. A sad fashion designer who wants you to slap your name on her sloppy work so if it goes up in flames it’s your reputation taking the fall, not her’s.
“So all your models look like they came from a whore house? Correct?” You ask. Velvet’s jaw drops and her assistant hides a laugh. Velvet, inhaling softly, tries her hardest not to cry on the spot. You’re her idol. She can’t fuck this up.
“No Madame! Not at all!” She says, showing you a design she had made personally for you. Based on your other collections, she knows your favorite color is black, so that’s a plus. All she had to do was add a bit more, of her flair to it. It was a black jumpsuit, with a fur coat that dropped down to the knees, black with white fur around the edges of the coat and the cuffs. The sketch wasn’t half bad, and quite frankly better than the others. Maybe it was the forgiving mood Charlotte had put you in. Velvet hands you the design and you skim over it, taking in the details, the hair and eye makeup, the shoes and jewelry notes written on the side. The sketches aren’t bad, but modern fashion isn’t your fashion.
“I’ll consider it. Do you mind if I keep these?” You ask. Velvet shakes her head, handing you the folder from her assistants hands.
“Please, take whatever you’d like Madame!” Velvet says. You nod, flipping through the pages.
“You’ll hear from me soon. In the meantime, I want new sketches of these designs. Modern fashion is fast fashion. Nothing stays memorable that way. You want to be good?” You ask her, and she nods quickly. “Then be better. Modesty and elegance are what people strive for. It radiates power, and everyone is greedy for that. If you can sell that through an item, you won’t ever go out of style.” You say, handing her back the folder, keeping the sketch she’d done for you. Well, at least you liked something. Vevelt nodded her head and watched you walk away, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Um, miss?” Her assistant asked.
“What?” Velvet asked annoyingly.
“She left a card on the folder.”
At that , Velvets eyes snapped down at the folder, before she screamed in excitement. Seat number six. She was invited to your table. Mission accomplished. Now, with only six seats left to fill, you were off to talk to your other guests. The night had proved to be interesting, and you knew your encore would not disappoint.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin charlie#hazbin angel dust#hazbin vaggie#hazbin demon#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel rosie#alastor#yandere alastor x reader#yandere vox#yandere vox x reader#yandere hazbin hotel#isuckatwritingsobenice#isuckatwritingsobenice infernal shadows
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i like a girl in uniform | lando norris social media au
pairing: lando norris x fem vet!reader
little leo leclerc needs a trip to the vet, lando was just being a good friend but the vet tech was definitely a plus
based on the request by: @volleygal06
MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
charles_leclerc
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liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,304,893 others
charles_leclerc: this dramatic little boy decided he wanted to eat every piece of grass he could find and got poorly, thank you to austin vet clinic for helping us out and getting him back into shape :)
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user1: leo is so dramatic, he's so me
user2: leo leclerc is the dramatic girl representation we need in the f1 paddock
pierregasly: please word your texts better, i thought someone had actually died
charles_leclerc: he nearly did!
landonorris: he did not, you're just a helicopter parent
pierregasly: wait why was lando with you and not me?
charles_leclerc: he just happened to be there and i needed a lift
landonorris: because he was freaking out
charles_leclerc: but he conveniently he decided he really cared about leo's wellbeing when he saw the vet tech
pierregasly: ohhhhh i see
landonorris: what! no! i'm a good friend!
charles_leclerc: sure, jan.
user3: fuckboy lando has re-entered the chat
user4: his slutiness knows no bounds
yourusername: he's such a precious little guy, i'm glad i could get him back to feeling himself. good luck to both of you this weekend!
charles_leclerc: thank you so much for your time, you definitely were the calm we needed
yourusername: ahahaha you're just a good dad to your fur baby
landonorris: thank you! any chance you can be my lucky charm this weekend?
yourusername: do you flirt with all the vet techs like this?
landonorris: only the cute ones
yourusername: i see...
landonorris: but i can still interest you in a coffee?
yourusername: i'll see if i'm free
user5: that was .... tragic
oscarpiastri: well that was something
alexalbon: you'd think he'd be better at it by now
georgerussell63: i have to have faith he's better at this in person
maxverstappen1: i'm kind of enjoying this show tbf
landonorris: i can read this?
alexalbon: take the constructive feedback
yourusername
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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 11,563 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: never a boring day here, leo was just the loveliest boy ever
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user6: okay turns out i am no better than lando
user7: if you heard barking that wasn't me
landonorris: are you sure he was THE loveliest boy, or are you just being nice because he's a puppy?
alexalbon: bro is jealous of a dog
yourusername: i'm sorry lando, but leo was a very brave boy
landonorris: i can be brave too!
oscarpiastri: you wouldn't let me sit at the same table as you at a restaurant because i ordered salmon
landonorris: well yes but that's also because it's you - when i go on a date with y/n, if she ordered salmon i would live with it
yourusername: when i go on a date with you?
landonorris: our date on sunday?
yourusername: oh really?
landonorris: i'll pick you up, wear something pretty x
user8: i have no idea whether that worked or not
user9: it was a loser move, but i would cave as well
user10: lando is unbelievably lame but he's also a millionaire f1 driver so i guess he can do what he wants
alexalbon: no it was lame and you guys should continue to tell him that
landonorris: trust the process alex
georgerussell63: the last time we trusted the process your dms where you tried to go on a maccies date were leaked
yourusername: i am NOT coming if you're taking me to mcdonalds 🤨
charles_leclerc: he takes after his mother :)
yourusername: awwwww, based on how many times he pissed on you, i think he's definitely a mummy's boy
charles_leclerc: tbf i'll do anything she says too
yourusername: @landonorris take notes if you want a date ^^
user11: american races i will never not complain about you but you have given me entertainment before the cars have even gotten on track
user12: idk this kinda proves my theory that the american races are just one big humiliation ritual for f1
f1tea
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liked by user14, user15 and 18,304 others
tagged: yourusername
f1tea: the vet tech, y/n y/ln, who helped leo is in the paddock for qualifying.
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user16: oh wow she's actually so pretty
user17: also like she just looks like a normal fucking person
user18: that's probably because she is a normal person
user19: okay queen is turning a fucking look
user20: she looks so effortless i love her already
user21: i beg you people don't get parasocial already, she's a vet tech who will probably just be here for the weekend
user22: not if lando has any say in it 😭
user23: i honestly think good for her for having him so down bad but i also pray for her for when the twitter girls catch on
user24: they've already found all of her personal details poor gal
user25: so like which garage is she in this weekend?
user26: she came in with alex and leo so i think it's a safe bet to guess ferrari
user27: i think the 13 year olds would actually have an aneurysm if she was in the mclaren garage
user28: i kinda want to see the meltdown
user29: the way ted kravitz shoved his microphone in her face killed me
user30: girl was so fucking confused
user31: the way she said 'i guess i'm a charles fan? i don't know i met him yesterday and he offered me tickets after i helped leo?'
user32: alex trying not to laugh right next to her when ted was asking her so many questions
user33: lando just fell to his knees in the mclaren garage
yourusername
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liked by alexsaintmleux, landonorris and 24,509 others
tagged: f1 & charles_leclerc
yourusername: thanks for the hospitality charles and ferrari! this has been a dream come true x
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user37: girl rocked up to her job, met THE leo leclerc and got a paddock pass
user38: why does leo never eat a load of grass when i'm on shift
user39: ugh why does this stuff not happen to me :(
charles_leclerc: i'm glad i could repay you beyond leo's vet fees!
yourusername: i did not know this sport was so god damn stressful and it wasn't even the race 😭
charles_leclerc: are you sure you can't make it tomorrow, there's still a ticket with your name on it?
yourusername: just say you and alex want a free dogsitter
charles_leclerc: guilty!
charles_leclerc: no but seriously if you wanna pull a sick day, we have a ticket for you
yourusername: all of my managers follow you on instagram, so i think that might be off the cards now
charles_leclerc: ..... oh
yourusername: it's like you people forget you're famous
user40: she's not here for the race :(((
user41: rip y/n y/ln in the paddock 2024-2024, forever in our hearts
user42: we'll never forget the ted's notebook episode of him being humbled by her
landonorris: you're not here for the race ? :(
yourusername: i have a job babe
landonorris: but but but i never got to take you out
yourusername: i technically never even agreed to that
landonorris: but hypothetically if i happened to be in your vicinity on sunday evening, would you change your mind?
yourusername: i'm sure you'll be out celebrating mr racer boy
landonorris: so you think i'm good 😊
yourusername: well you're starting third so i guess so?
landonorris: don't count out a more lowkey celebration ;)
alexalbon: is this loser son of a bitch actually going to secure a date
landonorris: i told you guys to trust the process
yourusername: i can literally read this right now ?
landonorris: I'M DOWN BAD LET A MAN LIVE
landonorris
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liked by danielricciardo, oscarpiastri and 1,429,788 others
tagged: yourusername
landonorris: i told the pretty girl i'd win something for her desk and i did ;)
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user43: holy moly he did it
user44: this is possibly bigger than his first win
user45: proved he can drive and is not completely sauceless
user46: is he at the vets in his sweaty-ass racesuit?
oscarpiastri: YES HE IS AND HE RAN BEFORE WE COULD DEBRIEF SO NOW I HAVE TO WAIT FOR HIS WHIPPED ASS TO COME BACK TO THE PADDOCK BEFORE I CAN GO TO BED
landonorris: your tone seems very pointed
oscarpiastri: it is indeed very pointed, i am so tired and you're so down bad that i'm going to have to sleep at the track
landonorris: well that sounds like a you problem
oscarpiastri: you are such a failure in this department that i'll let you off but i expect a tow next weekend
landonorris: anything i don't mind
oscarpiastri: this is levels of down bad i have never seen before
yourusername: i happen to like my men desperate and pathetic
landonorris: hehehhehehehhehe :P
user47: i now know way too much about these people
user48: at least all this public humiliation was worth it in the end for lando?
alexalbon: this pizza in the car date is very reminiscent of the proposed hotel maccies date ....
yourusername: why are you always up in our business
alexalbon: i've known this gremlin for far too long, if anything i'm looking out for you
yourusername: please refer to my previous comment about my preferences
alexalbon: you people are perfect for each other 🤨
yourusername: i can't deny a pretty boy when he's worked so hard to impress me
maxverstappen1: pretty sure that's just his day job to drive fast
yourusername: LET ME HAVE THIS FUCK OFF
landonorris: i knew i had one shot for you to take me seriously
yourusername: oh i was always going to say yes to a date, i just wanted to see just how much you wanted it
landonorris: well i wanted it and i want many more SO BADLY
yourusername: we'll see what we can do...
landonorris: HEHHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHE :)))))))))
yourusername
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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 34,109 others
tagged: landonorris
yourusername: someone tell this man he has a job and he has to leave
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user51: y/n's photography has shown me what the lando girls see for once
user52: i agree i am MOVED
yourusername: 🤨
user53: bro went on one date and thinks she's special
yourusername: more dates than you :P
user54: ugh finally a wag that fights back
landonorris: but i don't wanna leave you 😩
yourusername: i don't particularly want you to go either but somehow zak has gotten my personal number and wants you at the airport and i'm scared he'll get my address next
landonorris: tell him to fuck off next time
yourusername: he's your boss? WHAT IF HE GETS MY ADDRESS
oscarpiastri: not to sound like a sweat but he is actively looking for your address with cartoonish steam coming out of his ears
yourusername: LANDO IF YOU LIKE ME AS MUCH AS YOU SAY PLEASE MAKE SURE YOUR PSYCHO BOSS DOES NOT COME TO MY HOUSE
landonorris: ugh anything for you i guess
user55: i'm not sure how we got here but they're so hot
user56: he is PUNCHING SO BAD
landonorris: she's a literal goddess i know
yourusername: take notes ladies xx
landonorris: no but seriously, i don't want to leave you - can't you come to brazil?
yourusername: sorry babe i have a job i need to go to
landonorris: PLEASE
yourusername: but what about all the sick animals :(
landonorris: i guess :(
user57: what kind of spell is he under it's been THREE DAYS
landonorris: i love a girl in uniform
yourusername: even if it's scrubs covered in cat piss
landonorris: i find you sexy in anything, but preferably nothing ...
yourusername: right back at you xo
fin.
note: babes i am SWAMPED but i hope you enjoyed!
#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#f1 social media au#lando norris insta au#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris#lando norris instagram edit#lando norris social media au
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number one girl
pairing: max verstappen x reader
summary: the story of ynmax is a very, very heated topic riddled with holes and chock full of conspiracies: a couple and split to rival brocedes. it's mostly an a f1 thing, though, until you release an album and the internet tries to deduce what ruined a decades-long friendship.
a/n: angst warning. bear with me, you're in for a long ride. we go from twitter to insta to reddit to sdfsd. this was SO FUN!
part one / part two / part three
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liked by stevienicks, georgerussell63 and 3,104,827 others
yourinstagram: "number one girl" out now.
view all 411,295 comments
user1: mother??? music???
user2: our multitalented baby <3
stevienicks: so proud of you ❤️
yourinstagram: so thankful for you 🥺 your support is immeasurable in worth
user3: max verstappen did you-
user4: george listening to this so he can justify bullying max next season
user5: please 💀 i choked on my water reading that
user6: CHARLES IN THE CREDITS FOR PIANO?? how many side quests has this girl roped people into
user7: they're still good friends lol just cause she and max stopped speaking doesn't mean she's not close w the rest of the grid user8: @/user7 right! she and alex have also posted each other quite a bit after the rhode collab
user9: is no one talking about the lyrics 😃 gut wrenching, yes, but the way it all lines up w max??
user10: no babe dw we're all talking about the lyrics user11: my roman empire...
user12: who's this max guy and what does he have to do with my queen y/n
user13: @/user12 he's a formula one driver, they ued to be best friends user12: @/user13 like nascar? omg what i only knew that she debuted in shadow n bone but WHAT IS THIS
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A PAGE FROM Y/N's JOURNAL November 15, 2021
Max is a plane right now to see Kelly. I feel like I've been punched, three times over. The nausea is getting to me.
How could you? Just say all those things, like you always do. Do you mean any of them? When you say "I love you, more than anyone in this life." When you say "You're worth it, really. "When you say "forever." Does anyone ever really mean forever? Forever is part of the foreseeable future. You cannot capture what is beyond that.
You were my life. The words, every moment. An inescapable reminder.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
liked by charles_leclerc, brunomars and 2,819,305 others
yourinstagram: "toxic till the end (ft. lewis hamilton)" is up on youtube and all music platforms ♡
view all 309,418 comments
user1: what. the. fuck.
user2: is she dating lewis? what? y/n girl please stop being cryptic my head can't take all of this 😭
user3: if this is part of the press tour i must say i am now extremely invested in the ynmax drama and i didn't even know who max was until i saw a thread on number one girl...
lewishamilton: Best of luck with your future endeavors, Y/N 🫂 Will be by your side!
yourinstagram: you better be 🫰 user4: the friendship we didn't know we needed
user5: lewis with...pink hair...
user6: max emilian verstappen fumbled so hard
user7: imagine ghosting THE y/n l/n and then she drops this
user8: well, 4 years later but yeah user9: what even is a wdc...
user10: what does the heart mean y/n
user11: bro
user12: so i guess the harry styles dating rumors were all fake 😔 but omg lewis music!!
kellypiquet: Face and voice of an angel 😽
yourinstagram: me? please, pregnancy glow has been treating you good 💕 user13: at least they don't have any hard feelings...
user14: bruno in the likes is the most random thing ever
user15: acting career, check. singing career, check. formula one side quests??? multple checks
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liked by kellypiquet and 4,103,697 others
lewishamilton: Behind the scenes of Miss Y/N's "toxic till the end" music video
tagged: yourinstagram
yourinstagram: looking good there, lew
lewishamilton: Very kind of you to say user1: trust me we are witnessing the start of a great romance
user2: i don't want to delulu too hard but PLEASE tell me y/n's moved on with lewis it would be the ultimate baddie move
user3: imagine...you won abu dhabi but you lost the love of your life to the guy you beat 🤪 user4: we're all insane but i'm just going to keep dreaming
charles_leclerc: Why am I not in your dump?
yourinstagram: face card wasn't lethal enough user5: she's brutal 💀 user6: our charles's facecard could start wars idk what she's on
user7: daddy please give me ONE chance
user8: give me some of that maranello?? he looks so good oml
user9: focusing on music videos and not racing...no wonder he's washed
user10: @/user9 can you stfu and touch grass user11: @/user9 literally no one asked
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AN UNSENT LETTER FROM MAX November 2021
Dear Hey, Y/N.
I realized you blocked me. It hurts. I don't know what to say or what to believe anymore. I miss us. Overstepping was the wrong choice, if you must, but going back is not impossible.
We've been friends for so long. Why can't you won't you try?
I miss you.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
r/Fauxmoi · 1 day ago hamilton7xc
Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N's infamous split explained?
feralonsos: So she's been pretending he led her on when she lead him on
parking23: I don't know anymore. I know nothing. Don't even talk to me.
forzamcqueen: I want to say it's not about YNMax but 21 (as in 21, when they split?) and Y/N has been coming out with music recently. When you look at the "number one girl" lyrics from Boy's perspective it lines up with this submission. That Max wanted reassurance from Y/N and she gave it to him, but she couldn't give him everything he needed.
↳ roses_berg: @/forzamcqueen I don't know...it seems kind of unlikely. Y/N has a lyric about "chasing the prize" or something like that. What prize would she be chasing? On the other hand, you have Max who has clearly said racing is his passion and he loves winning.
↳ forzamcqueen: @/roses_berg I see where you're coming from but there are a few interpretations. Toxic Till the End suggests she thought his attachment to her was maybe unhealthy, and he kept trying to find ways to keep her by his side. Y/N has mentioned in past interviews (promo for her role in Shadow and Bone, when she was starting to do acting) that she's had bad experience with past relationships and is hesitant on starting a new one.
↳ januaryblues11: @/forzamcqueen Sorry, what interview? Could you link it?
↳ forzamcqueen: @/januaryblues11 No worries, I put it down below. The part I'm referring to is around 5:41.
↳ WolffHornerFan: @/forzamcqueen Okay, okay. I need a timeline then. She must've started filming Shadow and Bone in Oct 2019, then wrapped 4 months later in Feb 2020. This might be the "prize" she's chasing? Her own career. Before it was announced that she was in the series most news referred to her as "close friend" or "best friend" of Max Verstappen. Now a lot of people know her for S&B or Top Gun Maverick, etc.
↳ CautiousOwl: Might've not wanted her relationship to overshadow her career. It's understandable, if she wanted to be taken seriously instead of a "nepo friend."
↳ 4norrisop: She's amazing in Shadow and Bone! Definitely recommend checking that out, but I don't understand why she ghosted him.
↳ ynluv07: @/4norrisop he was dating kelly at the time. she might've thought it was a bad idea after it happened (i'm referring to the kiss, which i assume happened because she explicitly refers to it a few times in "number one girl") and distanced herself. maybe she told him it wasn't okay?
↳ ICEMAN_bwoah: Brain hurts.
↳ brooksies: Well if she did give up her happiness because she thought Kelly deserved better, that's great. No wonder they're still on good terms.
↳ DauntingParrot91: @/brooksies Yeah, sure...
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AN UNSENT LETTER FROM MAX January 2022
Y/N, I'm sorry I asked for too much; I'm sorry I pushed you. I'll take my bags and go quietly, this time. Maybe you'll open the door again someday. I love you too, my best friend always.
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liked by lewishamilton, taylorswift and 4,103,269 others
yourinstagram: Burnout.
comments on this post have been limited
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AN UNSENT LETTER FROM Y/N February 2022
Wish you'd take a little longer to pack up your bags. You're moving too fast. Make me want to hate you more than I hate myself, so I don't have to miss you. Make a mistake, please. So I have someone to blame.
Please, won't you stay a little longer? I would call you babe, just to make you smile. I wouldn't mean it that way, but I still love you. You're my best friend. Why wasn't that enough?
I'll be okay, sometime. You say it's written all over my face, and I wonder, what is? I'm fragile, now. I'm speechless, now. Don't leave me in pieces. I'm sorry, let me fix it. It won't be good for us, but oh-how I want to.
I'm already having trouble breathing. Please, stay a little longer. I can't stand these four walls without you inside them.
Come back, be here.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
liked by kellypiquet and 1,249,805 others
maxverstappen: She stayed a little longer 🖤
tagged: kellypiquet
view all 91,432 comments
user1: GUYS HE DEF HEARD THE SONG
user2: do we think kelly asked him to post it
user3: tbf given on how sweet her n yns interactions are i wouldn't be surprised if she listened to burnout
user4: kelly. you are the strongest woman i know
user5: so i can convince you the minute i kiss you speak a little softer so i don't have to answer and make it okay before you can say
user6: i just know he had a little breakdown inside after he heard the album
user7: max rn: CHARLES HOW COULD YOU PLAY PIANO FOR HER
user8: max: alexa play that should be me user9: ho-olding your handdd
user10: who are we blaming today
user11: at least max is finally someone's number one girl
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AN UNSENT LETTER FROM MAX Summer 2024
Sometimes I look to the television and you're on, flying a plane or wielding magic, whatever it is you do these days. I knew you could act. I knew you'd make it far. I hear you were nominated for a Golden Globe, too.
I was mad for a long time. I was upset you kicked me out of your life so abruptly.
Kelly's expecting. I think she will be as good a mother to our child as she is to little P. A family is what I have always wanted, you know. It was not what you wanted.
I am sorry. I have said that many times, but one day I will need to say it to your face. I am truly, irrevocably sorry for all the hurt I caused you, in the name of love.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
r/PopCultureChat · 1 day ago forzamcqueen
"Burnout" by Y/N L/N
How do we feel about the release of the full album? Moreover, how do we think it fits into the YNMax narrative? I, for one, have been listening non-stop trying to figure out the story.
lec_clerc16: I think it's funny how many people have gotten into F1 because of her music. Lol.
↳ NaturalOtter5: Well Lewis & Charles were on it so I would say the F1 community is pretty interested in the tea aswell.
↳ lec_clerc16: @/NaturalOtter5 Right, but YNMax is old drama. Sure, someone's posting in r/F1 every other week about an old photo or new quote. It's still been around for a while. This is fresh meat 😋
jennyowens1342: such a player...LOL who is gameboy about atp
↳ sassybanana: TBF Y/N's dating life has been a lot more quiet than Max's. There have been rumors but she hasn't hard launched anything. Maybe the one public "relationship" was enough for her.
museapollo: the more i listen the more convinced i am that y/n did not want the relationship as max did and decided it was best for them to stop being friends. the whole album is about a codependent relationship and the two people can't deal with leaving but they know it's better for both.
↳ janitorsclosetmonster: yess!! that's what i've been saying. we can't blame y/n for everything, it must've been confusing for her as well. having to navigate everything. idt she'd dated anyone at that point. max was her only close friend.
↳ EggplantParmesan713: But did max cheat...that's the real question. When did THE kiss happen? And who started it?
↳ museapollo: @/EggplantParmesan713 idk. i can't figure if she actually loved him (romantically) bcs it's clear he did but her side is a bit more hazy. you have: 1. "i just WANT it to be you" - it's not actually him she loves but she desperately wants it to be him 2. "cause even when i said it was over / you heard baby can you pull me in closer" - she's telling him it won't work out but he's not listening. 3. "please, won't you stay, stay a little a little longer, babe?" - she pauses before babe, like it's her trying to convince him to stay. mb she thought it was best to distance herself/end the friendship for a bit but she still loves him a lot because they've been friends for so long
↳ forzamcqueen: @/museapollo The best explanation I have heard so far. You can't force someone to love you the way you do. At least they've matured and moved on.
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January 2025
Dear Max:
Congratulations. I'm sure you will be a wonderful father, as I have always guessed. 2024 was a great year for you. I watched all a few of your races; you've still got it.
I'm putting out an album soon. I thought you should know. I already had a talk with Kelly, she's listened to some snippets and she likes it a lot. Some of the writing is about you the things I never said.
It was wonderful being your best friend. We had a good run, better than most.
Missing you Wish you the best, Y/N L/N
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
February 2025
Dear Y/N:
Occasionally, I think of all that could have been.
But we had many years together, and I will always cherish those moments.
Kelly loves the album, she puts it on while she cooks or does her makeup. P sings along in the car. She says she wants to go out for a tea party with you sometime. I listen to it even when they're out of the voice, for a reminder of your voice. You've made quite a name for yourself. I'm sorry I couldn't be there by your side.
Thank you for writing it. There are some things that you have to hear once, just for yourself.
Love Always Yours, Max Verstappen
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
what did you think?? i might do a part 2 of yn & max talking for the first time in forever but i wanna know if you guys liked this one first LOL
#formula one#max verstappen x reader#formula one x reader#f1#f1 x you#max verstappen#f1 smau#smau#x reader#rose#oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩
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My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise
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part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | read on AO3
summary: Joel and reader finally make it back to the hotel & all that sexual tension is resolved. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv (very stupid, wrap it up kids), creampie, cunnilingus, face-sitting, (resolved) sexual tension, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, forced orgasm (not really? kinda sorta?), smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair
Note: finally, the last part is here! I hope you’ll enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing this. It’s one in the morning so forgive any typos — I wanted to post today. Thank you for the consistent love on this story, I really appreciate all your messages and comments <3
Joel positively drags you back to the hotel, one arm slung across your shoulder, your hastily packed bags in the other. He’s quiet, and you’re afraid that talking will break the spell, that he will hear your voice and remember who you are, and what he’s planning on doing to you. You’re nervous. Excited, yes, but nervous – you’ve been with people before, drunken hookups with collage boys who wanted to get off as quickly as possible. None of it felt like this, you didn’t want any of them as people. With them, it was about the sex itself, with Joel it is almost entirely about him.
Your thoughts are racing in your head, insecurities bubbling up inside of you, things that didn’t matter when you slept with those other people you barely knew – will Joel mind that you aren’t clean shaven? Does he expect you to be more experienced than you are? Are you even good in bed, or will he be underwhelmed, and secretly think you are pathetic?
You want this, more than you have wanted to be with someone maybe ever. But that want makes you vulnerable, strips you of any nonchalance you might have clung to if Joel was anyone else. He isn’t some collage boy who won’t remember you in the morning, he is your father’s best friend, for whom you are a more than controversial choice. Sleeping with you is a threat to his friendship with your father, and still, he’s ready to risk it, he pretty much told you as much. That gives it a level of importance you aren’t used to when it comes to sex.
When you reach the hotel, Joel hurries past the reception before the kind lady can stop you, and despite your nervousness, it amuses you. Joel presses the button to the elevator impatiently, making your stomach flutter. He’s so shameless in his desire for you, not embarrassed by this open display of wanting to get to his room as quickly as possible. You would have worried about looking needy, but not Joel. He’s secure, and solid, and unflinching.
The doors open, and as soon as you’re inside, Joel crowds you against the wall of the elevator, catching your lips in a kiss, before moving his mouth to your neck. You exhale shakily at the feeling of him sucking on your skin, the beard burn a surprisingly welcome sensation.
"They’ve got cameras," you breathe, a weak attempt at regaining some sort of dignity, while Joel quickly unravels you under his mouth and hands.
"Fine by me," he just answers, "Should ask them for a copy to take home with me."
Your knees threaten to buckle at those words, his admission that this isn’t just a holiday hookup, that he will want you just as much when you have left this paradise and returned to the world outside of your bubble.
"Careful, baby," he says, one hand holding you steady by the waist, his lips ghosting over your jawline.
Baby.
With a sudden ding!, the doors open again, and an elderly couple steps inside. Joel stops kissing you, but doesn’t step away, his hand still on your waist, his big body still close to yours. You offer the couple an awkward smile, and barely register the judgement in their eyes as their gazes flicker over Joel’s hair specked with white, because Joel’s hand starts moving again. He slips it under your shirt, no his shirt, rough fingers drawing featherlight patterns on your sensitive waist. His touch is teasing, clearly meant to get some sort of reaction out of you in front of these strangers. Joel’s getting off on this, you realize, on being seen with you, on people knowing just what he plans on doing once you’ve reached the third floor. You bite the inside of your cheek and do your best not to let show how you ache for him, how his gentle touches are affecting you. If you look at him, you know your resolve will crumble, so you pointedly look at a point over his shoulder, and try not to shudder.
As soon as the doors open again, you and Joel get moving, and a nervous chuckle escapes you when you meet his eye. His expression is hard to read – blatant desire, but also something more gentle, something that calms your nerves. It’s Joel. He didn’t leave you hanging when you needed to borrow a bike, didn’t make you feel stupid or guilty for it being stolen, and he won’t make you feel stupid now. That’s what you like the most about him, you think, as his hand ghosts over your back and he leads you towards his room, the way he makes you feel at ease. Whatever the opposite of shame is, that’s what Joel brings out in you.
You reach the door, and want to push it open, but Joel stops you, tilting your face towards him with a gentle touch.
"You don’t have to do this," he says seriously, "we can just go back to the beach. No hard feelings."
You appreciate his consideration, the way he seems to be aware of a certain kind of pressure or expectation his age creates for you, but the idea of going back now, when you’re so close to what you want, makes you want to weep.
"Getting cold feet?", you ask lightly, and he smiles at you, a fond smile, one that seems oddly out of place given the situation.
"I’m just sayin’, I get it if you changed your mind or something. I assume this isn’t the way you…usually do things."
"No," you say, holding his eye contact. "Usually they’re twenty-five years younger."
Joel’s face is a perfect mask, not sure what to make of your remark. You reach up, your hand gently touching his beard, and your eyes glide over the wrinkles around his eyes from years of laughter, the white in his hair, his warm irises.
"God…you’re so fucking sexy," you breathe, and there it is again, that color his cheeks only turn when you compliment him.
"I haven’t changed my mind, Joel," you say honestly, looking directly into his eyes. "Have you?"
"No."
His voice is deep, and he finally, finally opens the door, eyes still on yours.
As soon as Joel pulls you into the room, his lips are on yours again, your arms wrapping around his neck, as he walks you over towards the bed. He’s bigger than you, much bigger, and it only really occurs to you when your knees give out under you, and you land on the bed, sitting in front of him and gazing up.
He looks imposing, almost threatening, if it wasn’t for that expression he has on his face – something behind the desire. You feel safe in his hands, safe to give yourself over, not just in the physical sense. He looks so capable, so easy to trust. His hand comes up to your face, tilting your head up, and you move easily for him, letting him mold you in any way he wants.
"That couple," you begin as you watch him watch you, take you in, "they knew exactly what we were doing."
His hand travels over your throat, and although he doesn’t squeeze, it’s exhilarating to think how well it fits into his palm. You shudder as he pops open the first button of your shirt – his shirt.
"You liked it," you add, voice breathy as the tips of his fingers ghost over your collarbone.
His eyes snap up to yours, and you give a small smile, almost teasing.
"Didn’t hear you complainin’," he answers, holding your eye contact. "Think I should mark you up, so that the reception lady knows, too."
It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, but you press your thighs together to relieve that terrible ache. Joel notices, and smirks almost imperceptibly, opening another button on your shirt. He’s taking his time, building tension by making you wait. He’s good at this, you think.
"But then she would stop calling you my Daddy," you breathe, trying hard not to close your eyes under Joel’s touch. Joel cocks an eyebrow, hands lingering on your shirt.
"Don’t tell me you enjoyed that, kid," he says, voice low, eyes intense. You flush, and wonder if he’ll kick you out now, if you have finally made things too weird to continue, but Joel keeps gazing at you, ever steady.
"Cat’s got your tongue?"
You swallow, and let out a shaky exhale. Joel pops open another button.
"That why you kept repeatin’ it to me? Cause it turned you on?"
He’s teasing you, dragging it out of you despite your embarrassment. He wants you to revel in just how debauched it is what the two of you are doing, and you get closer to giving in with every second. Joel’s fingers trace over the swell of your chest, finally visible now that he’s opened most of the buttons, and a weak sound escapes you.
"’S that it, baby?"
"Yes," you breathe finally, your cheeks burning. Joel’s answering smile seems oddly satisfied, as he opens the last button, lets the shirt glide over your shoulders and slump down on the bed in a little heap of linen. You swallow.
"Yes," he repeats, eyes trailing over your body. You wish he’d hurry up and get his hands on you, but with the way slick steadily leaks into your swimsuit, you can’t really complain. He sure knows how to play you like an instrument.
"Say it, then," he says curtly, a simple order, and you briefly close your eyes. It’s almost too good. His eyes are locked onto yours when you open them, expectant and blown wide with desire. He has stopped moving, and you realize he wants to hear you say it before he’ll go any further.
"I…I want to call you Daddy."
Your stomach curls up with need when you hear Joel groan, his resolve quickly crumbling, as he crashes his lips against yours again. He licks into your mouth with urgency, and it’s possessive in a way it wasn’t before, like he wants to claim your mouth. The thought makes you whimper, and Joel trails one hand over your side and down to the waistband of your swimsuit. You didn’t bother putting on your shorts again, just walked to the hotel in your bikini and shirt. His fingers slide under the thinnest part, right on your hip, and he lets it snap against your body. It doesn’t hurt, but the sound makes you groan.
His hands roam over your body relentlessly, squeezing, and tracing, and feeling the swell of your hips, the dip of your navel, your spine, your breasts. You almost don’t notice him undoing your swimsuit, until he slides off the top part, and runs one finger over your pebbled nipples. Your back arches and your hips twitch towards him, but he doesn’t give in yet, just teases the sensitive nubs while you whimper into his mouth.
Then he unties the little bows on your hips, and just like that you’re bare before him, your swimsuit coming undone with one tug of his fingers, while he’s still fully dressed. He’s disturbingly good at undressing you, something that used to be an obstacle to sex now a sensual part of it. You want to feel embarrassed at the amount of wetness between your legs, but when Joel’s fingers slide over your stomach and down to your throbbing core, he groans into your mouth.
"Jesus, you’re drippin’," he breathes against your lips, breaking away to watch his hand press circles into your clit. You try hard not to twitch under his gaze, his blazing eyes and skilled touch. Another whimper escapes you, as he keeps rubbing and watching your reaction, like he wants to take you in before continuing.
It’s embarrassing how quickly he gets you to the brink of an orgasm, but when your hips twitch towards him with little control, he stops, his eyes meeting yours again. You watch him lift his hand up to his mouth and suck his fingers clean, eyes not leaving yours. It’s the most erotic thing you have ever seen, the way he closes his eyes at the taste, and you wonder how you haven’t come yet.
"I’m gonna eat you out," he says, and it’s not a question. Immediately, insecurity floods your veins – you haven’t had someone do that before, and the men you have heard speak about it said they didn’t enjoy it.
"You don’t…I mean, you can just…", your voice trails off. Joel stops in his tracks, watching your face and cocking a brow.
"You ever been eaten out?"
"No," you say quietly, "and you don’t have to."
"I know I don’t have to," he says, and he sounds almost affronted, like he can’t believe you would think he didn’t enjoy it. "You want me to?"
"I just…know some people don’t enjoy it much," you mumble and look down. Joel’s hand comes up to your face, tipping your chin so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.
"I want you to come on my tongue," he says, "and then again on my fingers."
You almost whine at that, embarrassment seeping out of you easily, and Joel traces his thumb over your lips. You let it slip into your mouth and suck, swirling your tongue around it.
"Alright? You let me take care of you," he mumbles, eyes trained on his finger between your lips.
"Okay," you say, when his thumb slips from your mouth, and then quietly add "Daddy."
"Good girl," he answers, and a wave of heat rushes to your loins. It’s fucked, what you’re doing, completely fucked, but so good you think you might cry. You were scared thinking about it for too long would break the spell you two seem to be under, but the more you do, the more turned on you get. You have Joel Miller in front of you, calling you a good girl and about to make you orgasm multiple times.
"Lie back, baby," Joel says, and you do, sinking into the pillow that smells like him. Joel keeps watching you, and when he kneels down on the bed and gently spreads your legs with his hands, you think you might come from just that sight. But you hold on, because something about Joel wanting to eat you out, not even having taken off his own clothes, makes you curious.
He kisses your ankle and trails his mouth upwards, over your inner thigh and your hipbone, until you almost tremble.
"Jesus, Joel," you mutter, hips twitching on the bed, trying to get closer to him without your permission. He looks up at you, pressing his thumb to your clit again, and you curse. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s so much, almost too much.
"That what you call me?"
He doesn’t let up, his touch so insistent, you wonder how he expects you to come up with a single word.
"S-sorry," you stutter, grinding against his hand. "Daddy."
It thrills you to use that word, to know it gets Joel off, enough that he chastises you for using his real name.
"That’s right," he answers, and finally he lets up, placing his big palm on your thigh instead. Then, he leans down, and presses his mouth to your clit, flicking his tongue over it. It’s unlike anything you have felt before, and you actively have to will your hips to stop twitching, afraid to somehow hurt Joel. But he notices, ever perceptive, and breaks away, his mouth and beard already covered in your wet.
"Get up," he says, and you feel your anxiety rise again, questions of what you could have done wrong. He waits, but raises his eyebrows.
"You wanna come, or not?"
So you sit up, confused, and watch as Joel lies down on his back.
"Straddle me," he orders, and you move towards his lap, but he shakes his head. "Over my face, come on, baby."
You stare at him. His expression softens when he sees your disbelief, and he gives you a smile.
"Told you I’d make you come on my tongue, didn’t I?"
"Yeah, but Joel, that’s…"
Your voice trails off. You aren’t sure what you want to say – dangerous? Really fucking hot? You’re still sitting by his side, when he strokes one hand over your thigh, a soothing touch.
"I don’t know where you get the idea from that I don’t enjoy eatin’ you out," he says, his voice almost stern, "but you get that right outta your pretty head. Now, will you do as I say and sit on your Daddy’s face?"
Your mind goes a little blank when Joel calls himself that, and you feel helpless to do anything but nod, give him what he really seems to want.
"Words, baby."
His hand trails up your thigh and over your stomach.
"Yes, Daddy."
"Good girl," he answers, looking directly into your eyes, his strong hands grabbing your waist and helping you move, hoisting you up until you’re hovering over his face.
"If I need to breathe, I’ll tap your thigh, alright?"
"Yes," you breathe, quickly adding "Daddy".
Joel’s hands force your hips downward and although the sensation of his mouth under you is exactly what your throbbing clit was begging for, you’re tentative and unsure of what to do – you don’t want to hurt Joel.
"Move, baby, make yourself feel good," you hear Joel say, voice muffled by your body. You rock your hips forward once, and let out a groan – your clit bumps into his nose, and you feel him lick into your folds. His hands grab your hips, and he starts rocking you against his face, setting the rhythm for you, and and you feel yourself leak onto his face and into his mouth, as you start moving along with him. His beard feels scratchy in the most delicious way, as he lets you fuck yourself on his mouth, his thick tongue darting out.
"Fuck," you moan, "Fuck J-Joel, Daddy, fuck!"
It’s a lot to take in, Joel Miller’s head between your thighs, lapping at you like he’s starving, like he can’t imagine anything better than having you sit on his face. His strong nose keeps nudging your clit, again and again, and your movements slowly becomes more confident, though also less controlled.
Joel’s hands keep encouraging you, and you’re closer than before, right at the brink of coming all over his face, when Joel groans into your dripping cunt. The vibrations send you over the edge, and you practically sit down on his face with all your weight, but he doesn’t stop you, just lets you ride out wave after wave of your orgasm and chant a mixture of his name and daddy.
You get off of him with shaky legs, afraid you suffocated him, but he smiles up at you, looking absolutely wrecked – his hair is tousled, beard and face drenched in your juices, jaw a little slack. He reaches up to cup your face, and you go with his touch easily, laying down next to him. He rolls over until he’s half on top of you, watching your red, panting face, and slants his mouth over yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, can feel his soaked beard against you, and although it should be impossible after just having come, you throb at the feeling.
"So good for me," Joel mutters against your mouth, and trails his hand downward, over your stomach and to your overstimulated clit. You twitch under his touch, your body unsure if it wants to get closer to Joel, or get away from him, and he chuckles.
"She spent?", he asks, his tone a little amused, when you squirm under him. "That’s okay, baby, I’ll give her a break."
Instead, he slides his fingers through your folds, gathering wetness, and finally pushing into you. Your body opens up for Joel more than willingly, and although the stretch is tight, it’s not nearly as painful as you’re used to, you’re too wet and relaxed for that.
Joel watches your face, your fluttering eyelids, as he pumps two thick fingers in and out of you in shallow thrusts. You whine – you know you’re being vocal, too loud for a hotel room, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when Joel curls his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Your hips twitch upwards, and Joel smirks.
"There we go, baby, there we go," he mumbles, moving his fingers relentlessly, and already you can feel another orgasm building. He doesn’t let up, just lets you whine under him, thrash around, because his touch is almost too much, too good, too intense, but just right.
"Give me another one, baby, come on," he coaxes, and you think your ears start ringing when his palm starts grinding into your clit with every movement of his hand, the tips of his fingers pressing hard against your insides. "You just let Daddy make you feel real good."
It feels like bursting apart, when you come again, some tight coil snapping and Joel practically wrenching the orgasm out of you with his relentless hand and dirty words.
"Daddy," you groan, your hand coming up to your face, as you bite down on your knuckle. Joel watches you with bright eyes, lets you tremble until he can tell it’s too much, and only then does he slip his fingers out of you.
You’re weak, exhausted from the intensity of your pleasure, and Joel chuckles when you sigh, watching your glassy eyes.
"Okay if I fuck you now?"
You think you’d let him kill you, if he really wanted to.
"Yes," you breathe, "please."
He finally – finally – takes off his shirt, arms flexing, chest sprinkled in dark hair, his belly protruding over his trunks. You wish you had a camera, or a chisel so you could scratch his glorious body into a block of stone. He’s hard in all the right places, and soft in the rest, and with a jolt you realize you’re allowed to touch now, no longer confined to watching him swim from your deckchair.
"Jesus," you breathe, sliding one hand over his biceps, as he unties the band of his swimming trunks. You know you’re hindering him, but you can’t bring yourself to stop your hand from trailing over his chest, and down to his belly.
"Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot," you mutter when he slides the trunks over his hips. Then your mind goes a little blank, because finally his bulge isn’t confined to his trunks anymore, finally he’s naked in front of you, kicking his clothes onto the floor.
He’s big, just like the rest of him. Long, and thick, and uncut, and dripping in precum, the dark hair at the base of his cock a harsh contrast to the reddish skin. Joel closes his fist around himself, pumps twice, until you tentatively put your hand over his. His cock twitches, and you feel a little overwhelmed with power. Joel let’s go and lets you do the work, your hand much smaller than his. He looks even more imposing like this, as you move your hand up and down his length.
"Wanna suck it," you say suddenly, and you’re not entirely sure where the words come from, but you know they’re true – you want to get him into your mouth, feel him use your face the way you used his. Joel groans.
"God, you’re killin’ me," he answers, eyebrows furrowed, voice wrecked. You squeeze your hand a little tighter, just to hear him make his little sounds again.
"I’ll come if you do, baby, and I’m not sure I have two rounds in me," he says, regret lacing his voice, but his words make you clench around nothing – his age turns you on more than you thought possible.
„And I need to fuck you tonight,," he adds, and wraps his big palm around your wrist, so you stop moving it over his throbbing cock.
"So fuck me," you breathe instead, eyes wide and glued to his. You watch his expression change, something primal take over, and suddenly he’s on top of you, his hips pressing into yours.
"Again," he orders, almost growling.
"Please fuck me, Daddy," you whisper, your stomach clenching and unclenching in anticipation. Joel looks like he might come from just your words, but after a moment of collecting himself, he kisses you briefly.
"Alright, pretty girl, I’ll give it to you real good," he promises, and aligns his cock with your entrance. "You’re so goddamn fuckin’ wet, I can slide right in."
And he does, pushing his hips into yours. You feel the stretch of the thick tip, the widest point almost bordering on painful, and you bite your lip. Joel slides into you slowly, breathing into your mouth and making you feel everything. Then the tip is sheathed inside of you and Joel groans quietly.
"Grippin’ me so tight," he mutters, consistently pushing on, "halfway there, babygirl."
Your pussy flutters around him, clenches and unclenches, as he keeps going, and going. You feel full, and still Joel pushes on, until his hips are fully pressed into yours, and you feel him deeper inside of you than you have felt anything before.
"Breathe, baby," he reminds you, and you let out a shaky breath you didn’t notice you were holding. "Attagirl."
When he pulls out of you again, you make a raspy whining sound, your stomach clenching at the intense drag. Joel’s hands start trailing over your body, yours are gripping his shoulders.
"Look so pretty, all stretched out on my cock," Joel praises you, and God, the mouth on this man. If you weren’t so exhausted from the first two times he made you come, you would be trembling. You groan weakly, as he pushes back in, and starts moving at a quicker pace, setting a rhythm he likes. He punches into you with precision, angling his hips just right, and then he’s nudging against that spot inside of you.
"Ah…Daddy!"
"I’ve got you, sweet girl," he groans, moving both your wrists over your head, and pinning them down with one big hand – he easily engulfs you. You tug against him, testing his grip, and your hips twitch upward when you realize you can’t get out. He’s fully in control now, his cock nudging into you insistently, and you can only take it. You’ve never felt so cared for, as now, getting fucked raw by Joel Miller.
He doesn’t kiss you, but he keeps staring into your eyes, and it feels weirdly intimate. His movements become faster, more forceful, his belly nudging your body with every thrust. You whine, your body unable to do anything except for letting another orgasm build, one you didn’t think yourself capable of. The corners of Joel’s mouth twitch, when he feels you clench, and he fucks you harder.
"Daddy," you yelp at one particularly deep thrust, but Joel doesn’t let up – you don’t want him to. "Wanna come, p-please."
"You wait for my permission," Joel answers. Your belly feels like it’s on fire, tightly coiled with the need to just let go, but Joel wants you to wait, so you will wait. Anything, you think, anything. Joel’s jaw is slack, his brows furrowed, his free hand rough on your skin, but not unkind. You clench around him, and try your best to hold off coming, your eyes falling close.
"Eyes on me, kid," Joel orders, and despite your concentration, your eyes snap open. "Fuck, that’s it, my good girl."
My girl.
Joel fucks you like it, like you’re his. It’s possessive from beginning to end – the way he looked at you when you first wore his shirt, how he wouldn’t back away from you in the elevator. He plays your body like it’s his, dragging the pleasure out of you, and it makes your head spin. You can feel his thrusts go sloppy, can feel his restraint cracking, and your eyelids flutter a little.
"You want it inside, babygirl?"
You didn’t talk about that. You know you should say no. The head of his cock nudges your insides, and Joel’s free hand presses down on your stomach, feeling himself inside of you from the outside with every thrust.
"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please, Daddy, I w-want it."
Suddenly Joel is the one who has to close his eyes, as he keeps fucking into you.
"Fuck, you come for me first, baby," he groans, sliding his hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit. It’s too much, right on the brink of painful, and you thrash under him.
"I c-c-can’t Daddy, it’s…", your voice trails off, lost in the impact of his thrusts, but Joel keeps rubbing tight circles.
"Yeah, you can, baby, you know why?"
You don’t have it in you to answer, so you just stare into Joel’s eyes. You feel something wet on your cheek, and realize you must be crying, crying from how good you feel, how full.
"Cause I said so."
Your pussy throbs, clenches, and Joel moves his finger over your clit faster.
"Come for me, baby, I’ve got you," Joel drawls, and finally you do, your vision going white, your muscles going slack as you let Joel drag his cock in and out of you, the pleasure white-hot.
"Fuck, good girl, that’s my good girl," Joel groans, thrusting into you faster, until he presses into you harder than ever before, and you feel his thick cock twitch and throb against your cervix. Something hot bursts into you, and Joel keeps fucking into you for a couple more seconds, his eyes falling closed. Then, pulls out of you, your pussy fluttering, and he falls down next to you on the bed. You feel like jelly – you couldn’t move if you tried. Joel’s cum leaks out of you slowly, an odd, but pleasant sensation, and you sort of wish he would push it back into you.
After a couple of seconds, Joel pulls you against him, your face coming to rest against his broad chest, and he presses a kiss to your hair. You inhale his scent, and your spent muscles relax further, if possible.
"You did so good," Joel mutters, "so perfect."
His hands trail up your side and arms softly, a soothing contrast to the insistent way he fucked you. Your mind is pleasantly quiet, all caught up in his voice, his scent, his touch, his spent leaking out of you.
"Thank you," you sigh, and Joel chuckles. You smile weakly.
"Wanna get cleaned up, sweet girl?"
"No," you manage, "just wanna sleep."
Joel huffs a laugh, and tucks you more tightly against him.
"I’ll wake you before dinner."
***
When he does, the sun is already sinking. He trails kisses up and down your face – the softest way you’ve ever been dragged back to reality and out of a dream, and the first time you think reality is more fantastic than anything your sleeping brain could come up with.
"Mornin’, sleepyhead," Joel mumbles, catching your mouth in a kiss, his lips moving against yours slowly. You sigh into his mouth, when he pulls away.
"We should take a shower, baby, and you need a pill."
You open your eyes, a little confused.
"A pill?"
Joel raises an eyebrow.
"I mean, I’m not opposed to children, but I think your Dad might be," he says, and you snort weakly. Right, you think, the morning after pill.
"I’ve got an IUD, Joel, don’t worry."
He presses a kiss to your collarbone.
"Back to Joel, are we?"
You blush, and he laughs. It’s blissful, and a little unreal – Joel Miller, teasing you about the debauched, perfect sex you had not two hours ago.
"You prefer Daddy?"
"It’s…got a ring to it."
You can hear the smirk, even though your eyes are closed again, and you’re stretching your tired limbs. You yawn.
"How about room service?", you ask, Joel’s hand softly stroking the hair out of your face.
"Hmm," he mumbles, trailing one hand over your stomach, "or… we take a nice shower, you let me clean you, we have dinner with you lookin’ all fucked out, and everyone downstairs will know what we’ve been up to."
Your eyes open, and although you’re entirely, completely spent, your thighs clench together. Joel grins.
It’s quite the picture – Joel, with an arm around your shoulder ordering two cocktails, the redness on your skin from where he sucked too harshly or his beard burned you. You can see it in front of you, the same waiter as yesterday bringing your food, except this time, Joel lets you use his fork to try his meal, and instead of hurrying down to the beach afterwards, he’ll kiss you slow and long, just because he can, in front of every other guest in this hotel.
„Yeah…or that."
#my burning sun will someday rise#my writing#mine#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller#pedro pascal#the last of us part 1#tlou1#pedrohub#tlou#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel miller smut
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Joel Miller x F!Reader (18+)
mdni please
You and Joel find another way to make the summer heat more bearable.
tags: smut (duh), food play (popsicle), anal play, creampie, unprotected p in v (do not! do this! pls!), kind of? oral (f receiving), praising, dirty talk (joel doesn't know how to shut up and we love him for that), mentions of gagging (once), reader is abled, afab reader. joel is 20 years older. idk if I forgot anything else.
word count: 9.2k
a/n: this is just another level –for me, at least– of things I wouldn't normally write. please take my phone away? thanks. I think I was possessed when I came up with this. anyways! hope you enjoy.
this was inspired by If You Like Piña Coladas by @gutsby ! it was amazingly written, I loved it and after reading it I came up with this idea. <3
as always, please enjoy and lmk what you think! reblogs, likes and comments are always deeply appreciated 🫶🏻
It all started when you were out on patrol, scavenging and rummaging through abandoned places, looking for supplies to take back to Jackson.
"Anything, really." Maria told you, as the warmer weather was approaching and you needed anything that would help keep people cool. Especially the elders, kids and babies.
Could a horse carry a whole fan back to Jackson? Not possibly. So Joel got to disassemble it while you took the opportunity to look through every drawer, cabinet and box.
"Joel, look!" You said, holding up some molds. They were the kind that you would fill up with juice and fruit, then put the sticks in them to make a popsicle. Maybe it wouldn't keep you cool, but it was a nice distraction.
Joel chuckled as he saw them. He remembered making those with Sarah every summer in a desperate attempt to keep his daughter in a somehow manageable mood, as she hated the heat and made her irritable. You could see the shimmer in his eyes, the kind that showed up every time he thought of his daughter. He has recently started to open up about her, and you didn't really push him to do it: just let him.
"We should keep those." He replied. "Maybe try making some back at home."
The idea sounded fantastic, and there were more molds as you kept scavenging. Maybe you could even make them and offer them at the town hall for people to feast on while they fought the intense rays of sun.
Once back home, you got to work. Joel helped by squeezing the oranges as well as cutting up strawberries and apples, the kitchen ending up a fruity mess. But you didn't mind, if anything, it made your heart flutter at the sight. It was domestic, tender, to be cooking together. Making a snack to make the summer heat a little more bearable for the both of you.
You set them inside the fridge and honestly, forgot about them until two days later until Joel brought them up. The two of you were plopped on the couch, fanning yourself with magazines as you tried to pay attention to the TV with that old DVD player plugged into it, playing a movie Joel had made you watch more times that you could count on.
You were distracted, and you knew it. And he would be a liar if he said he wasn't. Your cause of distraction? The way Joel's cheeks were slightly flushed, sweat trickling down his tanned neck, how the popsicle would drip down his veiny hands. How he would lick it, God, why couldn't he lick you instead? And he was suffering from the same twisted thoughts. The way your lips would wrap around the popsicle.. he was almost sure you were doing it on purpose. Pushing it inside your mouth and pulling it out with a plop! He could think of the times you'd done that with his cock before, the image being burned inside his eyelids.
He couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't pretend he wasn't affected by you.
"It take you that long to finish that thing?" He spoke up, his voice slightly hoarse from hiding his desire for too. damn. long.
"What do you mean?"
You asked as you bit into it and chewed a smile piece of the ice thing, then swallowed it. His eyes followed the movement of your throat and oh, you knew.
He wanted to erase that shit-eating grin off your face with the tip of his cock, smearing his precum all over your—
"You know what I mean. You're doing it on purpose."
"And you aren't?" You leaned forward, and that made him feel like he'd been caught red-handed. Truth was that, yes, he had been slurping at the thing like he would swallow your juices whenever he found himself on his favorite place on earth: between your legs.
"What if I am?"
"What if I am too?"
The silence between you grew thick, like a string that was taunt with too much tension. Until he snapped it, grabbing the popsicle and shoving it into your mouth. You tried to protest by whining his name.
"Shut up." He spoke as he quickly worked to take off your shorts. He pushed them down and immediately placed his head between your legs, making you open your mouth so much that the popsicle almost fell. He caught it and put it back into your mouth.
"Keep suckin' it, sweetheart. Don't stop 'til I tell ya so."
And you obliged, a small smile on your face as you loved experimenting new things with your man. He licked a long stripe over your damp underwear, making you close your legs around his head. He was quick to separate them and nuzzle his nose against the cotton of it, inhaling your scent. You would be embarrassed if he hadn't done it like a hundred times before. It was nothing new.
"Joel.." You whined, almost pleaded as you gripped his hair. You kept eating the popsicle, licking and slurping at it to provoke him even more. And did he notice.
He looked up at you, eyes dark from his pupils occupying almost his whole irises. He took a finger and pushed at your entrance, penetrating you with your underwear.
"You take what I give you." He reminded you. Your mouth felt open at the sudden contact, aching to be filled. Some of the juice spilled down your chin and onto your chest, and he looked at it like it was the most attractive, sexy thing he'd ever seen. He pumped his fingers a couple of times before his patience broke.
"Damn it, darlin'. I swear I'm tryin' to take my time but today just won't be the case." He spoke, before pushing down his own clothes and your underwear flew God knows where.
He sat you on his lap, pressing you down against the evidence of the effect you had on him. Gently, never being rough, pushed your legs open with his knees and held you like that.
"Oh, look at 'er.. Already cryin' for me, baby?"
He teased, and brought two of his fingers at your slick. You squirmed on his lap, breathing ragged as you tried to find something to hold onto. But he didn't let you.
Instead, with those two fingers, he parted your lips open and looked down at your glistening cunt. It was gaping, closing around air as if it was already preparing itself for the stretch that Joel's length would be.
But.. he didn't do it. Not yet. He pulled the popsicle out of your mouth and pressed it against your hole. Your eyes widened and you gasped for air at the cold sensation, telling him that he couldn't do that, that it was wrong, that—
"Beggin' to be filled, isn't she?" He murmured, hot breath against your ear. He didn't really care about you trying to be cautious, he knew that deep down you didn't care about that either. You wanted to be filled, and he was a man that took your wishes seriously. He placed the popsicle in front of you so you could see it before he slowly trusted it inside of you. You cried out and he hushed you softly.
"Oh, I know, I know." He cooed at you. "She'll get used to it. Now take it."
And you trembled, fighting the internal battle of pulling his hand away or letting him fuck you senseless with a popsicle. The sticky, orange, freezing cold stick was melting inside of you. And every time Joel pulled it out and pushed it back down, some would drip out of your hole. Juices mixed with whatever blend of fruit you poured into those molds, all dripping down to the floor.
You could sense Joel's eyes locked on it, his breath becoming more labored than he would like to admit. He would beg to clean up that mess with his own tongue if it meant tasting your tangy, slightly sour slick.
"Takin' it so good, princess. Look at you. 's it feel good?" He asked, whispering against your ear. You couldn't see him but you knew that he looked pussy drunk, that grin on his face that told you he was high just from watching you take a popsicle or whatever he pushed inside of you.
You were a mess. Hair sticking to your forehead as the old ceiling fan wasn't strong enough to cool down any of you. Your own back felt sticky and hot against Joel's chest. But did he mind? No. He loved every liquid that would come out of you, even your sweat. He had eaten you out after being hours on patrol, sweat pooling in every fold of your body. But he just couldn't wait until you showered. That summed up how little Joel cared about any of that stuff.
Your head fell back against his shoulder and you shut your eyes closed as he stretched you further with the popsicle, the sounds were almost enough to make you want to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. They were almost pornographic, and you felt Joel's cock twitching underneath your ass.
"Joel—Please!" You cried out. "I want it. Please. I can—"
The popsicle was shoved into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue and making you gag softly as he went a little too deep. You could taste yourself in it, and it turned you on even more. Joel was tired of your cries, he would give you what he wanted when he wanted it.
"Hold it." He commanded and you held the popsicle, drool dripping out of it and into your chest, making an orange mess.
With his hands now free, he pushed your hips forward and up, lining the red, unattended tip of his dick against your entrance. You squirmed and cried, voice muffled by the long, cold stick.
"Shh, sh, sh. I got you, sweetheart."
I whispered and pulled you down against it with one swift move, having little to no mercy with your aching hole. He pushed on your lower back and you leaned forward as he started moving his hips deliberately, kissing your cervix every time he went up. He moaned at the sight of orange juice still pouring out of you, coating his cock along with your slick.
"What a sight, baby. I bet.."
He took the popsicle out of your mouth, and you panted for air. Your moans and soft cries filled the room as he filled you, stuffed you full to leave you limping for a week.
"..It'll look prettier like this." You almost didn't hear him, the pleasure overtaking you.. *almost*. But he made sure you did, at least, feel him when he pushed the popsicle into your rosebud, making the small hole stretch around it. He whimpered at the sight, something he never did. You gasped, holding onto the coffee table in front of you for dear life as you could swear you saw your soul leaving your body for good.
The squelching sounds, juices dripping everywhere making a mess around you two, was enough to make you near your orgasm. He pumped the thing in and out at the same rhythm as he raised his hips. You swore you'd never felt more full in your life, warm and cold at the same time in different places. He stared in awe, watching both of your holes swallow both him and the popsicle smoothly.
When Joel noticed that you were near, he picked up the pace of both: the popsicle that entered your anus with ease, melting and filling you to the brim, and his cock that you could swear you felt on your stomach.
"Thatta girl.. milk my cock, sweetheart. Yeah, good fucking girl."
He babbled nonsense, an indicator that he was close too. With not one, not two, but three thrusts he gripped your hips, biting down –gently– onto your shoulder as he painted your walls white with his seed. You could feel your legs twitching as his body trembled, your name coming out of his mouth in soft prayers. You followed quickly after him, closing your walls around his length in a way that almost got it hard again. You stayed there, bodies still intertwined and covered in fruit juices, panting for air until you both came back to reality.
He then scooped you up into his arms and carried you upstairs. He would clean up the mess later, he said as he guided you both into the shower. Once there, he made sure to clean up every dip and crevice of your body while you felt your eyelids drooping. He caressed your back gently and pressed soft kisses against your forehead and shoulders while rubbing you dry, making sure you were taken care of and never felt like any encounter was just to please him. Then, he carried you to bed and cuddled up against you, placing your head on his chest and running his fingers through your hair gently, like he always did to soothe you.
"We gotta make those more often. You know.. to survive the heat."
He murmured with a smirk as you drifted off to sleep. And all you could wonder was how the fuck did a man twenty years older than you have the stamina of a beast.
#please don't do this#THIS IS FICTION#next time take my phone away#joel miller au#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#tlou joel#joel miller#joel miller smut#fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction
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Redlight.. Greenlight..
Summary: You and your stepdad Logan have an... Unconventional, kind of relationship. One that runs deeper and much more intimatly taboo than your mother knows. You need him? Heres there.. Except for, well, when hes not.
So what happens when wants to play a little game with the gift he gets you from the fair to fill that exact problem?
Warnings: p with v lil plot, stepdad!dofp!Logan, slightly more innocent!reader so tagging for innocence kink, taboo relationship, stepcest! (Logan is dating readers mom- should also come without saying but reader is absolutely of and above age!!) couple mentions of cheating, pillow/stuffie riding, size kink, mention of male masturbation, cum, cum swallowing, lil mention of reader having nipple piercings, slightly rough/mean logan, aaaand some daddy kink (Sorry :( i couldnt resist) i think thats it!
This piece is def more a dark fic so please please keep the tags in mind! This is all fiction and between adults, however you are aware of your media consumption; If you don’t like anything above, do not read. It’s not for everyone and that’s okay, I won’t be offended.
Masterlist Words: 2.4k
I.. Cant even explain the spiritual experience that writing this was. Y'all wanted it so, outta the love i have for you all, i delivered (or, attempted to!!) in typical me fashion It got nasty quick and i can only pray hell has an ac down there bc man.. Its exactly where im goin after this😭👹
"There you are sweetheart" Logan grins, one arm drawn up as he knocks gently on the doorframe for your attention.
You sqeak quietly in suprise, head flying up from the book your reading laying open on the bed. Your gaze meets him, stood wide and tall in the threshold of your room. His denim jeans and black shirt cling tight on his body, one muscular arm sitting tucked behind his back; holding something out of view.
You roll from your spot on your belly as he saunters further in. He shuts the door while you shift yourself until you kneel carefully on the edge of your bed. "Got a surprise for you.." he trails, chucking softly at the way your eyes brighten at the comment. Ever his sweet girl. "saw this at the fair and thought of you"
You cock your head like a confused puppy as he brings his hidden arm from behind his back. With him he pulls a big stuffed bear that has got to be at least a couple feet tall. the fur is pink, fluffy and soft as he places it into your grasp with a smile.
"Dunno if its a it's a little childish, you're uh.. probably a bit old for stuffies" he says, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "but.. thought you'd like to have him around.. You know, as a reminder when I'm not here."
You nod, eyes glossing over slightly as you begin to understand the hidden meaning in his words. your fingers play with the fur of the bears shoulders, ruffling it a little as your lip tucks under your teeth at the thought. you know he's hinting at being on missions, for when he cant take care of you.. his sweet, slutty girl. His pretty little step daughter.
His bigger fingers join yours on the bear, another deep chuckle falling from his lips. "Your mom- she was practically avoiding me any chance she got as we walked around" he continues as you smile amused, looking from him to the bear like he hung the moon. "kept tellin me to just put him in the car and, well, you know me, if I'm gonna get pushed, I might as well find a way to make it more amusing. Piss her off a bit"
You giggle quietly at his antics, at the thought of the huge gruff wolverine carelessly carrying a giant pink bear around a fair ground. How he would so willingly embarrass his girlfriend- your mom, with a gift so clearly for you; her adult daughter.
"Well i love it.. Thank you daddy!" you beam, his title, reserved for those needy moment you spend with him, rolling off your tongue before you care to stop it. Arms reaching up as high as they can in an attempt to hug at his neck. He drops down for you to reach, but your fingers still hardly clasp around the bulk of him. his chest rumbling at your excitement.
"glad you love it sweeth-" he goes to say, but you cut him off, unable to hold your want for him back any longer tonight. Your lips pressing sweetly against his, kissing him sloppy as you hang from his neck. Damn near sucking on his tongue.
He savours the taste of you, of the lipgloss that so often glistens on your lips before he pulls away to mumble warningly, fingers splaying out on your back. His head dipping to nose along your jaw. "Careful. Your mother's downstairs."
"Want me to s-stop?" you murmer, stuttering slightly at a gentle nip he leaves behind your ear. Eyeing over the grey streak in his hair your Lips pout, dainty fingers pulling logan by the back of his neck to look at you.
One of his hands glides up from your back, cupping your cheek like a fragile piece of glass. "Never. Never want you to stop kissing me sweet girl. Just.. giving you a warning that your mother's home"
"Dont care" you mumble rebelliously, shifting forward until you press against his lips again. "love you daddy"
He grins at that and you feel it pressed to your face, his scruffy beard rubbing your skin. "love you too, little one" he murmers honestly, thumb stroking your cheek as he pulls away. "More than you know.."
The hand on your back slowly drifts again until Logans got a large palm filled with your shirt covered breasts. "Look at you, so fuckin pretty. Give me a peek sweet girl?"
You nod with a breathy whimper, unwrapping yourself from around his neck and tugging the shirt up before throwing it to the floor. Logans eyes rake over your body, a groan falling free at the sight of your bare tits, eyes immediately catching onto the little barbells peaking from the sides of both, not to mention your lacy panties. Soft skin fully exposed to him without the oversized shirt hiding you from his view.
"I noticed something when I went to bed the other night" he starts, the hand on your cheek moving to your hair as he roughly tugs your head up. A bashful pink covering your cheeks; already knowing what hes about to tell you.
"My side of the bed was all crumpled up, sheets at the foot of the bed. I thought it might have been your mom but.." he stops, thumbs swiping at the buds of your nipples, already taught and sensitive around the bars from his touch.
"It smelled like you and for a moment i though it was just your perfume.." he leans down, pressing the words below your ear. ".. It wasnt your perfume though was it sweetheart?"
Your body shivers, mischief twinkling brightly in your eyes. The picture of innocence is not you, practically naked in front of your stepdad- a man who should be bedding your mother- accusing you of rubbing yourself over his pillow.
"No. No it was that pretty cunt i could smell" His touch grows rougher, fingers pinching around the supple flesh at the same moment he nips your neck again. "Just like i can now"
You cry out a little too loud as his hand dips from your chest, fingertips brushing the waist of your panties and snapping them against your skin. He shushes you quickly, pressing your face into his neck.
"had to lie there, rock fuckin hard, listening to your mom play that game on her phone until she passed out before I could finally jerk off and get myself properly taken care of.. Would've found you to help but you chose your moment to 'Stay at a friends'.. just knew I'd fuck you stupid if you were here huh?"
"M-mhm!" you nod desperately, slick beginning to make the fabric of your panties damp. The same panties his fingers begin to trace over, touch fetherlight over your cunt. "J-just wanted to play with you"
"Wanted to play with me huh? Could've just asked sweet girl, you know that.." he tuts, speaking the words so honestly. So easily, like you wouldnt be asking him to sneak out of bed and cheat on his girlfriend- on your own mother, with you again. But You know deep down he doesn't care, especially not when he touches you so perfectly. "So, how about we play a little game now hm?
"W-what kind of game d-daddy?" you question with a whine, hips rocking slightly at the feel of his fingers applying more pressure to your covered clit.
His hand pulls away from your panties as quick as it had gotten to them, the grip on your hair still tight as he makes you look at him with a dark smirk. "you're gonna ride that cute bear daddy got you and stop when i tell you. Simple redlight greenlight.. That sound okay sweetheart?
You nod quickly, letting him move you to the position he wants until your straddling the pink fur in the middle of the bed- knees pressing into the mattress. Your Lip once more bitten as you eye over the bulge forming in his jeans.
"Good girl, there you go. Make yourself feel good like you did on daddys pillow.. M' gonna stay right here" he grunts then, standing with a hand against the foot of the bed.
Your hips rock experimentally, a gentle sigh falling from your lips at the contact. The fur tickles softly between your thighs, an added sensation as your clit grinds nicely against the gusset of your panties; further drenching them.
Logan observes the way your lip remains beneath your front teeth, denting the plump skin until blood pools red beneath it. He feels his own blood rushing down to his cock at the sight- senses already overwhelmed by you as he watches your bare tits move softly with each movement.
"That feel good sweetheart?" he rumbles, shooting a smirk at you as your hips begin to wriggle quicker.
"Ye-fuck- ah.. " you whine back, chest begining to heave from the effort your putting in. The mattress squeaking softly below you.
Its then he grunts a word you dont want to hear, not with how good it feels. "Red light.."
You stop immediately, figuring if you obey he might let you off quicker, a cute little pout falling across your lips as you look up at his heft. "Good. You got it."
He lets you breathe a moment more, relishing in the praise as he shifts one large hand to the crotch of his jeans; palming roughly at the bulge there. "Green."
Your hips roll once again, wasting no time in chasing the warmth in the bottom of your belly. the wetness of your panties providing a slick streak for you to rub quicker against the bear.
Soft bucks and wiggles soon change to quick grinds and bounces, the bears leg locked tight between your thighs. One hand holding the bear in place the other teasing a budded nipple. At the pace your going, its not long before your whining out again.
"O-oh Daddy- im- m' close." you whimper in that sweet little tone. The same one you use when his cock is stretching you cunt wide around him. Desperate eyes peering up to find his dark gaze.
"Red light.." he grunts meanly, hand still rubbing thickly over his covered cock. The pleasure of observing you rising in his belly. He watches the way your thighs tremble, barely there now he's stopped you again, a telltale sign of your impending release coling up. "Good girl, lookacha getting all shakey.." logans deep chuckle shakes his shoulders, a heavy squeeze to his cock as he nods at you "start again"
Your hips continue their past pace, rougher grinds and bounces squeaking the bed as you buck quicker. The feeling of your orgasm re igniting in your gut. Your clit pulses needily, panties so soaked through by this point that the bears fur bunches wetly beneath you. Your grip on the leg white knucked as you plead out to logan, who still stands heavy at the end of the bed.
"Pleasepleaseplease- daddy.. Can i? Need ta' cum.."
"You need it sweet girl? S'that right?" he rasps, treading closer until his hand gathers your hair from the side. The pull at your scalp is tigh just as before. Your eyes flutter and its then he yanks, pushing you to open your eyes and look at him.
"Yea! God fuck please.." you sob, pace beginning to grow unsteady from the exertion of chasing your orgasm. "Feels g-good"
"Go on, green light." he nods with a growl, lips pressingjust below your ear as he does so, egging you on. "Do it. Cum on that bear like you would daddys cock.".
You cum with a high pitched whine, blood pumping white hot through your veins. Your vision spotted and ears ringing as you tremble; pelvis still grinding away chasing at the aftershocks.
Logan feels his cock throb dangerously as he watches you tremble, his own underwear soaked in slick pre. "S-shit. Cmon," logan demands then, pulling you roughly down from the bed until you meet the carpet floor. "On your knees sweetheart.. " The hand not tangled in your hair tugs at his jeans to free his cock
You watch panting as he frees himself from the constraints of his clothes, belt, denim and boxers all quickly tugged just below his heavy balls. Hand working quick over his sensitive shaft before you reach for him. "Yeaaaa thats it, thats it. Make daddy cum all over that pretty mouth. Good girl."
You only have to give one, two, three languid strokes before hot white ropes land on your tongue as he groans much too loud; shirt pulled up between his teeth in a half harted attempt to muffle it. Your hand working from the base to tip until hes grasping at you to stop.
The hand in your hair shifts, pulling at the strands as he rounds to cup your jaw, a large thumb swiping at the corner of your lips. It keeps you open as he eyes how his release coats your mouth like honey.
You're smiling at him, a knowing look from times before in your eye as he pulls his thumb away to wrap that hand around the base of your neck. "there you go, swallow it all.."
Your mouth closes, throat bobbing beneath his touch as you swallow. A small hum sounding out as you grin back, tongue peaking out again to show him.
Logan simply groans at the sight, softening cock twitching. "God you take my cum better than your mom sweet girl... C'mere. Give me a kiss, let daddy taste himself on you."
You stand quick, aided by his grasp on around your collar. Logans kisses are hungry, a clash of teeth and quiet moans. Spit stricken as he savours the remaining taste of himself from your inside your mouth; lewdly suckling at your tongue. He only dares pull away when he can tell your need for breath is becoming overwhelming.
"Did so good you know that?" he rumbles earnestly, lips pressing against your forehead softly. "always making daddy proud of his sweet girl"
You grin a bashful smile, unable to hide the heat on your cheeks, a little giggle of "thank you daddy" slipping into the air that makes logan chuckle while you watch him tuck himself back into his clothes. Quickly fixing his appearance he gives you one final peck on against your bitten lips. Quite mumblings of how 'dinner's going to be ready soon' as he bends, handing you your ealier discarded shirt and tredding towards the door.
With one final glance cast to your appearance he makes sure to remind you that you 'Just have to ask' before the door closes behind him with a soft thud.
Until the next time you need him.
#logan howlett#wolverine#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine smut#logan howlett x reader smut#deadpool and wolverine#carbonsfics#logan smut#days of future past#dofp! logan#stepdad!logan#wolverine x reader#logan wolverine
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Running a little witch store in a small town, recently the only exciting thing has been Jake visiting your store every other day. While he doesn’t buy anything, his looks are enough to make your days a little less boring. And when he comes in one day, mixing up his offered tea with a very, very powerful aphrodisiac… it is about to get a lot more than just a little less boring.
Pairing: Neighbor!Jake x Witch!Reader Genre: Porn with almost no plot, Supernatural (as reader is a witch, duh) Warnings: Jake is a bit of an idiot but hot, reader is very sarcastic… are those even warnings? Reader has female anatomy and is described as a woman, pure filth basically, MINORS DNI!!! Smut tags under the cut Word Count: 6k A/N: Well hello! Happy Halloween everyone! My little last minute Halloween Project is done! First up, thanks to @aaagustd for the AMAZING banner!!! And my lovely @heechwe for betaing! This work was very, highly, extremely inspired by a clears throat spicy audio that was uploaded literally last night. Could not stop imagining it to be Jake who this happens to… so here we are. The creator’s name is AugustInTheWinter, check out his Patreon or Reddit, I swear it is SO worth it if you’re into audios!! Anyway, thanks August for this inspo and thank you guys for reading! tagging my beloved @yvnempire because she's so excited about this hehe. Please leave comments and/or reblog, it would mean the absolute world! Wanna support me? Here's my Ko-Fi!
Smut Tags: Big dick!Jake, Jake starts nervous and a bit subby, but turns into a beast, handjob, blowjob, face-fucking, facial, p in v sex, unprotected sex (stay safe kids!!), multiple orgasms, loads of cum (like really… so much), dirty talk, degradation (words used: whore, slut, hole, fucktoy etc.) cumplay, cum eating, tell me if i missed anything!
Everything about this town was boring.
The scenery was boring. The activities were boring. The people were boring.
Just… everything.
Your coven had sent you here because of the apparent magical aura you so, as they said, “desperately needed to achieve your full potential”. Bullshit, for all you cared. The magical aura might have been strong, but it was so deeply rooted into the earth, you had trouble reaching it even after hours of channeling your own powers. Of course, you didn’t tell them that. All they knew was that you were having a blast in this shithole of a town and had already made tons of friends.
So far no one had questioned your answers and so you just lived your life, hoping you would soon succeed in attaining the magical power of this place and go back to your normal life.
Recently, though, you at least had something a little less boring gracing you every other day. Jake Sim - the neighbor from across the street. He was handsome and a little shy and very obviously did not believe magic existed. Not that you cared much about that, no, you had been exposed to many people who didn’t believe in you and your kind, not to mention all the other supernatural beings walking on the face of earth.
Jake was a non-believer and wonderful to look at and you were fine with that. Content. More than happy.
As you were brewing some potions a few of the older women around town had ordered (while they also didn’t exactly believe in magic, they at least believed in your ability to brew things that were extremely efficient in their gardens), you found yourself thinking about the pretty man again. About his laugh and his eyes, about the way his shirt would rise up and show a bit of his happy trail leading down to something you could only wish to see fully exposed one day.
Truthfully, the last time you got laid had been ages ago. So long that you couldn’t even really remember who it was with and where. It was a curse, this town, and seeing a young attractive man stalking into your store a few weeks back had suddenly brought back the desire you had managed to suppress for who knows how long.
Just then, as you were deep in thought, cutting up some lavender, the door opened and the little bell above it rang, bringing you back to the present.
“Hi Y/N!”
Jake had his puppy smile on, hair blown out of his face and a thick coat hanging off his shoulders. He walked over to the counter and you smiled up at him, catching yourself finding his flushed cheeks extremely endearing.
“Jake, welcome. Anything I can do for you today or are just here for another chat about how magic can’t be real?” You tilted your head and gave him a playful smile that he answered with a little laugh.
“Actually, I did come for something today. Mrs. Bloodstean said you have some great tonics for flowers?”
Ah, yes, Mrs, Bloodstean, the woman three houses down who had trouble with her roses. You had helped her and now her roses bloomed all year round.
“I do indeed, Mr. Sim. What can I get for you?”
“Well, I’ve been having some troubles with my Mandevillas… they don’t seem to wanna bloom as much as, uh, I would like them to.”
His sheepish grin would have made your knees weak if you’d been standing. You nodded and got up, checking the shelves behind you for the potion he’d need to get his flowers to grow and bloom as much as he liked. Eyes roaming over the different bottles, you soon came to the realization you were out and clicked your tongue.
“Seems like I’ll have to brew one. That’s gonna take a couple minutes, do you want some tea while you wait?”
Jake nodded yes and smiled, turning around to do this usual routine through the rows of shelves in your store. From a safe distance, he began to watch you do your thing, cutting up ingredients and throwing them into a miniature cauldron Jake couldn’t help but be amused by. A witch store in the middle of this small town, run by one of the most attractive women Jake had ever laid his eyes on.
When he had first stumbled in here, he had mistaken it for an alternative medicine shop. While he wasn’t totally wrong, he also wasn’t fully correct. You did offer some remedies and lotions, some potions and tonics, but you also had crystals and salts and books in your many high rising wooden shelves. The first day, he had spent hours just browsing through the books, not thinking of actually buying anything, but somehow being immersed into this world of magic he was so sure could only exist in fiction.
He hadn’t even noticed someone working at the front behind the counter until he turned to leave, almost stumbling over his feet when he spotted you. You concentrated on a page in an old looking book, biting down onto your tongue that was slightly sticking out of your mouth. You with the prettiest face he had ever seen, that made it so hard to look away.
After that, he came back every other day, hoping to talk to you, get to know you and maybe ask you out on a date. Of course, he never did because if Jake was anything it was a coward. It didn’t matter that he somehow happened to be handsome, his charisma was in the trenches.
It was obvious he didn’t see the effect he had on you, which made it even more fun to have him around in your store. You could sense that this man did not have one indecent thought about you while in the store, even when you wore low cut shirts or skirts with slits almost as high as your hip. No, he was a good boy, a sweet boy. The contrast of the two of you was almost comical - you thinking about what it would be like to feel him, to taste him, to push him against a bookshelf and have your way with him and Jake just wanting to man up to ask you out.
Circling back to the front, Jake saw you hard at work and decided to fill his tea cup by himself, the steaming blue teapot on the right side of the counter. Smiling, he brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, his eyes widening at the sweet taste.
God, that’s delicious!
The hotness of the drink seemed to fade into the background as the taste spread on his tongue, so sweet and wonderful his eyes almost rolled back, the liquid making his whole body feel warm and fuzzy, and without even noticing he finished the whole cup in one go.
“Wow, that tea is amazing! What kind is it? I don’t think I’ve ever had it before.” Jake put the cup back down and beamed at you.
Blinking, you looked up at the brown-haired man, your mind a little slow at catching up with what Jake said.
“What do you mean?” You asked, brows furrowing slightly.
“The tea you made me, what kind is it?” He repeated, pointing at the teapot next to him.
Your eyes widened for a brief moment, then you slowly got up.
“How much did you drink of that?” You asked calmly.
“A whole cup, it’s like so, so good, how-,”
“A whole cup?!” The volume of your voice surprised both of you and Jake’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth dropping open a little.
“Was that- was I not supposed to? I- I’m sorry, you seemed busy, so I just helped myself.”
You stayed silent for a few seconds. Watching Jake’s confused face, trying to read his thoughts. He had absolutely no idea what he just drank. But you did.
A grin found its way onto your lips, a grin so diabolical it made Jake’s stomach turn.
“That’s not your tea, Jakey,” you said, pointing at the teapot he drank from, “your tea is over here.”
Jake followed where your finger pointed next, a small black teapot standing to your left, all done with a cute little pink cup next to it. He blinked a few times.
“Then- then what is this?” He asked, nervousness beginning to spread through his body. Your grin deepened.
“Oh, that? That’s just the very, very powerful aphrodisiac for Mrs. Brown’s husband. See, he can’t really get it up anymore.”
Silence. Jake felt like the whole world had suddenly gone silent at your words. But then he remembered where he was, who you were and how incredibly unlikely it was that this really worked. So, he snorted.
“Right. An aphrodisiac in the form of tea, I’m sure that’s gonna work wonders with Mr. Brown.”
“Not just him, but you too, you know,” you began to walk around the counter, stopping when you reached the other side, leaning against it with crossed arms, “and you’re only supposed to drink one sip of it. You, dear Jakey, drank a whole fucking cup.”
Honestly, Jake still didn’t believe you. Or at least he thought he didn’t. But something about the way you looked at him almost made him falter. He laughed and shook his head.
“Come on, Y/N, I’m not an idiot. This obviously isn’t going to work, it’s a hoax, we all know it’s a hoax.”
“Is it though, Jake? Is it really a hoax?”
“What? Of course it is! Magic isn’t real, can’t be real, this tea surely won’t help Mr. Brown get an erection and I, my friend, more than anything, will not get aroused by some fake viag-,”
Oh shit. Jake couldn’t help the deep moan escaping his throat when he suddenly felt the hardest wave of pleasure hit his body. He almost dropped to his knees, his cock growing harder by the second, pressing against the seam of his jeans, making them uncomfortably tight.
“You won’t get aroused, Jake? Yes? Is that right?” You were having the time of your life. This was better than anything you could have ever predicted. By Mystra, how could you have forgotten about the tea for Mrs. Brown? And how lucky were you for Jake to mistake it as his own? You couldn’t believe your luck.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jake groaned now, his chest heaving and you tilted your head again, watching sweat form on the handsome man’s forehead. His pupils were blown and his face flushed and, fuck, did he look good.
“I would say the potion is kicking in. How does it feel?” You bit your lip, watching Jake struggle to find words for what was happening inside… and outside of him.
“I- well, oh fuck, it, uhm, it feels… it feels like, like I’ve never- like it’s so.. it’s so h-hard, you know?”
“Hm, I don’t think I do. Perhaps you can show me, just so I can check if it all looks normal?”
Jake’s cock twitched at that. You wanted to see? Check if it looked normal? Another moan made its way through his lips and it sounded so utterly pathetic you felt yourself drip into your panties.
“Wh- what do you mean “normal”? C-Could it look, like, n-not normal?” He was sweating. A part of him really wanted you to see, to check, to maybe even touch him, but another felt shy, didn’t want this to happen before taking you out to a nice dinner, maybe even a movie and-
Fuck, who was he kidding?
“I don’t know, that’s why I wanna check. Will you show me, Jakey?”
“F-fine, b-but only to check!” His cheeks were on fire at this point. His cheeks on fire and his cock hard as a rock, aching and throbbing and probably aggressively red at the tip.
That last prediction proved to be correct when he pulled down his pants and briefs at once, his cock springing free, standing harder and prouder than he had ever seen it. He whimpered at the sight.
And you? You almost fell to your knees, itching to touch him, to lick over the tip that was already leaking so, so miserably. Oh good lord. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip again and you swallowed hard, eyes glued to the huge cock Jake had been hiding from you.
“Is it- is it always this big?” You asked, not even looking into Jake’s face anymore.
“Well, n-not when it’s not, uhm, you know… h-hard.”
“So it’s this size even when no potion is involved?” You wanted to know.
“Y-yeah, that didn’t change.”
“Holy fuck,” you mumbled, your hand wanting to grab around him so badly, but you contained yourself.
“What- what can we do? Like is there an antidote? Can I- can I drink another potion? Or maybe there is, uhm, fuck, a spell or something?”
You chuckled.
“Now you believe in spells, Jakey? Funny timing,” finally, you raised your head to look at him again, “but no, there is no antidote. Like I said, it’s made to help get it up and given in a specific dose. But you, my dear, drank probably thrice as much as necessary.”
“So what does that mean? I- I can’t just go home like this!”
He was right about that. Everyone would see him sporting the largest boner known to mankind. And right now, you decided, this was only for your eyes.
“I think the best way to deal with it is to, frankly speaking, empty it.”
Stars seemed to dance around Jake’s head when you spoke, the image of you rubbing his cock, sucking on it or even bouncing on it to empty him of all his cum… he twitched aggressively.
“S-so, wh-what are you sug-suggesting?” His heart was speeding in chest and he was trying his hardest not to jump to conclusions.
Yet another devilish grin spread on your lips as you raised your hand and snapped your fingers, closing the blinds of the storefront window and locking the door all at once. In any other situation, Jake would have been freaked out, but right now all he could concentrate on was the way you pushed yourself off the counter and looked at him from head to, well, problem.
“I am suggesting, Jake, that it would only be right of me to help you out.”
Jake swallowed hard, glued to where he was standing, his cock still so unbelievably hard, still aching and throbbing and in desperate need of attention.
As you lowered yourself, knees soon hitting the wooden floor, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.
“Do you want me to help you out?”
“God, yes, please.”
And there it was. All that you needed to finally bring your hand to his cock. He immediately moaned, head falling back as his hips moved forward, thrusting into your grip. You chuckled as you slowly began to move, bringing your thumb to his tip, gathering all of the already leaking precum to use as lubricant.
It already brought you immense pleasure, jerking him off. Staring up at him, seeing nothing but pure lust and desperation on his face. You were throbbing between your legs, wetness building up more every passing moment.
“Fuuuuuck, yeah, j-just like that, oh wow.”
Jake felt like he had never been touched like this before. Every bit of friction against his skin was like the first time. Every inch you touched with your hand was burning, sparkling with something he could only describe as magic. He couldn’t stop the desperate moans even if he tried, couldn’t stop his hips chasing your hand, thrusting into it like a mad man.
“Faster, please!” He cried out and you obeyed, speeding up your hand. Your eyes were glued to his cockhead then, watching how precum kept leaking, drips landing on your floor or the briefs that were hanging around his ankles with his jeans.
You worked your hand faster, having trouble closing it around his big shaft and finally adding the second, working him at double speed with his cockhead still peaking out.
God, how would he feel inside you?
Two hands around his cock and Jake could sense a first orgasm approaching. He thrusted his hips, fucking both of your hands, eyes rolled back into his skull, the pleasure completely taking over.
“Yeah, yeah, just like that, fuck, fuck, I am fucking your hands so good, shit!” He didn’t know where to put his energy, switching between moaning and whining and saying his incoherent thoughts out loud, feeling himself leak onto your hands. He wondered what you’d do when he came, if you’d just let him come right onto you or if you’d point it elsewhere.
“Feel good, Jakey? You look so hot, so, so good for me.” You stared up at him, batting your eyelashes and finally Jake looked down at you, his spit catching in his throat. You looked insane with his cock in your hands, your face wild and determined, a small grin on your lips that made his cock twitch once more. The whimper escaping him must have been the single most arousing thing you had ever heard.
“I’m gonna come, I’m s-so close,” he cried and you nodded, licking over your lips.
“Yeah, come for me, wanna see you come, Jakey.”
When he had said yes to you helping him out, he sure as hell had not expected dirty talk to be involved and, shit, was he happy it was. His mouth fell open wider, eyes glossy and focused on your face. He knew it was going to be a lot, knew he’s going to shoot the biggest load of his life onto you in a few heartbeats.
“C-Coming, oh- shit!”
When he came, he came. Cum spurted out his cock, and you didn’t even think about letting a drop go to waste. The first load landed on your neck and collarbones, dripped down your cleavage and over your breasts, the second you managed to catch with your tongue slurping it down like a five-star meal. The third landed on your cheeks and chin, some on your neck, joining his already left mark.
Jake truly couldn’t believe his eyes. You, the woman he had been thinking about asking out for weeks now, covered in and eating his cum. Another little bit of cum dribbled out his cock and you caught it perfectly with the tip of your tongue, causing Jake to groan desperately.
He was still so fucking hard. Still desperate for more.
“I need more, I’m still so hard, please.” His pleasing eyes and slightly trembling lips made the picture in front of you perfect. Jake, big cock full on display, still hard from the potion he had drank by pure accident, his first orgasm so powerful he had shot three loads onto you, was now begging you for more.
And you were more than eager to make every wish of his come true.
“Since you said please…,” you grinned, leaning forward, not giving a damn about the seed currently drying on your skin, and flicking your tongue against his tip, his hand almost immediately moving to grip the back of your head. “God, yes, yes, please take it into your mouth, fuck, please!”
His wish was your command.
Your lips closed around his tip, sucking on it just slightly, tongue gliding over his sensitive slit, tasting his bittersweet taste, wondering if maybe the potion had altered something about it. Next, you moved your head forward, taking more of him into your mouth, feeling the veins of his cock press against your tongue. A moan erupted through you, the arousal almost too much to bear at this point.
“Ohhhh, god, yes, take it, take it deeper, shit.” His hips moved, pushing more of him into your mouth. He seemed to vibrate, seemed to fit perfectly into your wet heat, tip hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag, spit dripping from his shaft down to the floor. Your hands grabbed the back of his thighs, steading yourself as he began to thrust down your throat.
“Holy fuck, that’s right, gag on my cock, gag on it, fuck.”
It must have been the potion speaking because he wasn’t usually this vocal. But then again, he had never had anyone take his cock down their throat as well as you were doing right now. Gagging and spitting and tearing up, but nothing in your face showed discomfort. No, you were thriving on this and Jake felt your arousal in the air, felt it mixing with his and he sped up his hips, both hands now holding your head in place as he let out the most beautiful moan you had ever heard.
He shoved you down his cock completely now, his balls hitting your chin as he fucked your mouth like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Drool mixed with his precum dribbled down your chin, tears began to stream down your face, your eyes rapidly blinking as you watched him lose all of his composure. You wished to keep this memory engraved into your brain for all of your life.
Jake was in a rush, in a complete trance, fucking down your throat, feeling your tongue against his shaft, your throat restricting around him, your gags and chokes turning him on even more. Somehow, with every thrust closer to his release, he felt the tension rise up more.
What the fuck even was in that potion?
It hit him then, his second orgasm, thrusts becoming sloppier, quicker, accompanied by desperate moans, whimpers and groans.
You managed to swallow it all, the load just as huge as during his first orgasm, shot after shot down your throat, your eyes growing wide while you sucked him dry, or at least attempted to.
“Swallow it all, yes, yes, fuck, come on, come on! Take it all, I know you want to, fuck!”
There was no control left in his body, the potions effect taking over completely.
He emptied his cock into your mouth and pulled out when he at least thought it was over, only for another wave to hit him and land on your skin again. He felt like an artist painting an already perfect canvas with his own visions.
“S-sorry, fuck,” He breathed hard, watching you slowly get up, your face wild and stained with his seed as well as your own tears. Your eyes were red, pupils blown and with every gaze you shared, he knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you. He swallowed and looked down, seeing his cock still hard, still throbbing and aching. Would this ever end?
“I need more, need more,” he mumbled, stumbling forward and grabbing your hips roughly. You moaned at his touch, your fingers gliding over your chest to pick up some of his cum and shove it into your mouth, sucking them clean. He swore under his breath.
“Do you want to fuck me, Jakey?” You asked then, voice sweet like honey, but body looking so breathtakingly filthy.
“Want to, need to, have to,” he replied, moving to lick some of his own cum off your neck. You moaned at that surprising action, pussy throbbing and dripping. Without another thought, you dipped forward, pressing your lips against his. He kissed you back right away, tongue shoving into your mouth and he could taste himself even more on your tongue. His hands ripped open the corset-dress you were wearing, freeing your tits from their prison and immediately moving to grab them.
You hopped onto the counter then, pulling him closer, legs hooking around his waist. He kissed you hungrily, tongue and teeth and spit and hotness all mixed together. You shoved his coat off his shoulders and opened the buttons of his shirt, but he stopped you.
“No time, need to be inside you now.” He basically growled, fingers simultaneously finding your panties and ripping them off of you just like he had your dress. You spread your legs further, ready for him, more ready than you had ever been.
Jake knew he had reached heaven right then. Grabbing his cock and bringing it to your drenched pussy, pushing into your awaiting entrance and feeling you grip him, pulling him closer. He cried out, whimpered into your ear and continued to suck on your skin, cleaning you off of his seed all while working to bottom out.
And when he was finally buried to the hilt, he only paused for a second to take it all in, before beginning to fuck into you at a brutal pace. Your fingers clawed into his shoulders, mouth dropping open as your head tipped back and high pitched moans crawled out of your throat over and over.
“So fucking tight, taking me so fucking well, such a dirty fucking slut.” Jake bit your neck and you cried out once more, your whole body shaking with pleasure as he continued to fuck you. There was nothing you could compare to what was happening right now. No one had ever fucked you as good, as hard and as fulfilling as Jake.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better than this, Jake pulled out of you and grabbed your waist, heaving you off the counter only to spin your around and push you down onto it, your ass up in the air.
“Sorry, need to fuck you like this.”
Back in he went - full speed, full force. The counter shook under you and you gasped when he began to thrust. His cock dragged against your walls, split you open so beautifully it felt like you were going to burst. You threw your ass back at him, clawing at the edge of the counter, eyes falling shut as you let yourself enjoy the way he drilled into you.
There was a high chance Jake was going to grow addicted to this feeling. Never had he ever had sex as good as this and perhaps this was courtesy of the potion - or maybe it was just you. You with the perfect pussy, the perfect mouth, the perfect hands. Everything about you seemed to heighten his arousal, seemed to get him closer from the edge all while pushing him even further away from it.
He could do this for hours, fuck you until he came, spill his seed in you over and over, watch how it spilled out. God, he wanted to see your pussy stuffed with his cum so bad. Watching his cock slip in and out of you, hearing the noises you made, it was almost too much.
“You’re my perfect little hole, aren’t you? Just made to be fucked like this,” he couldn’t help himself, grabbing your hips even rougher and spitting down to make it even wetter. Not that that was really necessary. You were dripping down his cock as well as your own thighs and Jake swore he would never recover.
“Fuck, Jake!” You cried out, hip trying desperately to move while he held you, eyes opening only to roll back as your orgasm hit you like a brutal wave.
“Shit, are you gonna come on my cock, slut?” Jake saw red as he felt your pussy spasm around him, pulling him even deeper, squeezing him for all he had, wanting to milk him dry of his load.
And who was he to deny such a request?
“Come inside me, Jake, please, please, please!”
You had sensed his orgasm and he let out a growl, finally filling your pussy with his load just as you hit your second high right after the first. Once again, it didn’t stop, it just kept on coming, his cum landing inside you and already dripping out as he fucked both of you through your orgasms, filthy sounds filling the air next to both of your moans and groans and pleads for more.
Jake had expected to be done after three, but no, he was still hard, and so he grabbed your wrists and held them behind your back, standing up straighter as he picked up the speed once more.
“Need another one, baby, just one more, fuck, m-maybe two, I just- fuck, I am so hard, I need to fuck you more, wanna fuck you all night, need to fuck your pussy.”
There was nothing left in his brain except for the need to come, for the need to fuck you. He was like an animal during heat, felt like he was going to explode. His cock was so incredibly sensitive, hurting even at this point, but it was addictive, you were addictive. Just the thought of not being inside of you anymore filled him with something close to agony.
“Y-yes, fu-fuck me Jake, your cock feels so good, s-so big!”
At this point you could have taken the potion yourself judging by how you were feeling and talking. Normally, you were the one in charge, the one on top. But with Jake? You enjoyed being in his hands like this, enjoyed being used by him for his pleasure. You wanted him to fill you up, to split you open, to do with you whatever the hell he wanted.
“God, yes, like my big cock fucking you open like that? Such a good behaved little whore, isn’t that right?” He found himself slapping your ass, and judging by your reaction that had been the exactly right thing to do. He groaned when he felt you squeeze him again, both hands back to holding your hands in place.
He lost himself in you. Lost himself in the pleasure. And you lost yourself in him and the need to have him fill you up again and again.
His fourth orgasm made his cock soften a little. He filled you to the brim, watched the majority drip down your legs, forming a little puddle to your feet and he licked his lips, letting go of your hands and pulling out of you, turning you back around and placing you back on top of the counter.
“Lean back,” he ordered and you did as wanted, eyes wide and pussy throbbing from the last orgasm a few seconds ago.
You leaned back on your elbows, watching him position himself between your legs. He grabbed his cock and placed it in between your lips - to thrust in between them, cockhead repeatedly hitting your clit. You gasped, body jerking forward.
“Wanna paint your whole body with my cum, stay still.” His big hands grabbed your hips, pinning you to the counter as he began to thrust his cock over your pussy, the friction already enough to almost make him come again.
“Mhmm, y-yes, f-feels good!” You cried and he grinned, continuing his spiel like a madman.
“You’re so sexy, so fucking sexy, baby.” He breathed out, his brain slowly but surely coming back to him. And when he heard that little noise you apparently always made before you came (if he could trust the two orgasms from earlier), he felt himself reach the edge as well.
Your head fell back when you felt the next orgasm hit and your pussy ached for more when his next load landed all over your stomach, even reaching as far as your tits, painting you just like he had wanted.
The canvas was finished.
But Jake wasn’t.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, so sorry, I need to-,” his head was fuming red, and he moved back a little, just to dip his cock back into your spent pussy and you fell flat onto your back, your head hanging over the counter.
He fucked you like a ragdoll, like a toy, like he didn’t even really acknowledge you were still there. He pressed down onto your stomach and sped up, tried to fuck you deeper. He imagined he could feel his cock through your skin, imagined he could see himself fucking you just like that.
“S-so deep!” You cried out and he looked at you, at your body, and nodded, watching now how your tits jumped at every thrust. They were stained with his cum as well and he hoped he would never forget this image.
“One more, promise, just one more, my perfect little fucktoy, yeah?”
His words were so filthy, so desperate and full of need, they made your pussy spasm again, made you grip him hard over and over again.
“That’s it, fuck! Gonna come, gonna come, shit, sh-shit! Take my cum, take it, yes, yes!” He was in a spiral downwards, then back up and back down - his last orgasm hitting him like a fucking brick, yet another load landing inside your pussy - one, two, three. His cock twitched and twitched and finally began to soften.
When he pulled out, he fell backwards, landing on the floor, his eyes wide and his ass hurting.
The potion slowly lost its grip on him, his normal, coherent thoughts coming back all while he was getting down from his many, many highs.
You pulled yourself up in exhaustion, your chest heaving. When you sat up straight again, you couldn’t help but chuckle at Jake on the floor.
“Need a hand?” You asked, carefully jumping off the counter and finding that your legs were nothing but mere jelly. Quickly, you grabbed onto the edges of the surface and found your balance again.
“I- I-,” Jake began to stutter, his eyes probably the size of saucers by now. You grinned.
“You?” You raised a brow. Jake’s face turned crimson.
“I- I’m sorry, I-,”
“You’re apologizing? For what? The best sex I’ve ever had?” You snorted, “No, Jakey, no need to apologize.”
Jake bit the inside of his cheeks. Best sex you’ve ever had? While he wanted to feel proud, he wasn’t so sure if that really had been him having sex with you or if the potion had a mind of its own.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” you moved forward now, stretching your hand out for Jake to take, “the potion only strengthens what’s already there. It doesn’t change your personality, it just makes you give less fucks.”
Had you read his mind? Jake cleared his throat and nodded slowly, before taking your hand and letting you help him up.
Only then, when he was standing so close to you again, did he realize you were still covered in his seed. He turned even redder.
“Oh, right.” You giggled, closing your eyes and once again snapping your fingers.
Immediately, you were clean of his cum and back in your dress - which had also magically repaired itself. Jake also found himself back in his briefs and jeans, his coat safely hanging over the counter. His mouth dropped.
“You-,”
“Are an actual witch, correct, Sherlock.” You winked at him and walked back to the other side of the counter, “Now, do you still need that potion?”
Jake stared at you for a second.
“Y-yes,” he mumbled, watching as you quickly finished the preparations. He didn’t dare say anything, his heart beating at triple speed and his brain working overtime. He had just fucked you. For like… a good while. And he didn’t even have your phone number.
“There you go,” you smiled and carefully shoved the bottle with the potion over the counter, “just pour a few drops over your flowers tonight. You should already see some results in the morning.”
“Th-thanks. How much do I owe you?”
“Oh, Jakey. You already paid me enough.” You said cheekily and Jake found himself choking on his own spit.
When he walked out he regretted not asking you for your number. Or if you wanted to go on a date.
But that night, when he got ready to put the potion to its use, he saw a little note stuck to the label he hadn’t seen before.
Tomorrow, 8 o’clock at your place. I promise I’ll bring wine that won’t make you wanna fuck me for hours. It’s a date! Also here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxx. See you tomorrow, loverboy!
Jake found himself laughing out loud.
And while he did his work in the garden, he thought that just because the wine wouldn’t be the reason, he sure as hell would not mind fucking you for hours at least twice every day for the rest of his life.
#svnet#jake smut#enhypen smut#jake x reader#jake fanfiction#jake au#jake sim fanfiction#enhypen fanfiction#jake x you#enhypen x reader#enhypen x you#enhypen au#enhypen imagines#kvanity#ksmutsociety#jake sim x reader#enha smut#jake sim smut#sim jaeyun smut
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I need a breeding kink blurb PLS 🙏🙏🙏
⛔️ WARNING ‼️ SMUTTY SMUT BREEDING KINK SIZE KINK ALL THE KINK (enjoy 🤭) + plus a link to an audio porn on tumblr to really get into that wet pussy sound 🙈 I'm so sorry in advance but I am in fact ovulating according to my calculator and this was... Anyway there's no plot, this is basically only smut. PLEASE DON'T READ IF YOU'RE NOT INTO THIS KIND OF THING THANK YOU
587 words
😈😈😈😈
"Oh baby... look a'you... getting stuffed so deep. Loves getting her little pussy filled up and bred yeah? Need Daddy's come honey? Need me to put more babies in this belly? Fuck you til your tummy's swollen, your tits are full of milk, and pussy ruined?"
"Mmm..." you tried moaning but you were out of breath and your gargled noises were stifled by the way he was plowing into you, long and heavy strokes that dipped into your guts and punched the air from your lungs. All you could do was lie there with your legs spread apart as he fucked the life from you. His fat cock was making your walls ache he'd been going at if for so long.
"Can't speak, little mama? Don't want the kids to hear do we? That's right... just let daddy fuck you til your come hole is full of my sperm and let it sink in deep so I can knock you up over and over again. Likes her pussy stuffed with cock and come and her womb full of babies..."
Harry loved it when you were pregnant. You already had two kids and he was raring to go for a third. But so were you. You loved watching him be a dad. And you'd love to see him holding another tiny baby again - your tall, tattooed, and strong husband holding that delicate bundle against his chest with tears in his eyes, humming a tune and swaying slowly back and forth. Just for that, you'd give him as many babies as he wanted.
"Already had you stuffed with all my cream this morning, now here you are all sweaty and gagging for more. Fucking need it don't you? Gonna take my come honey? Little mama wants it, yeah?"
You could barely nod but you managed to knock your head back and forth. You were exhausted after he'd already given you two orgasms but now you could feel him coming to his end, his arms were shaking and his thrusts were getting sloppy with that big cock twitching as he stretched your walls. His impressive size was addicting.
"You ready? Think you can take another load?"
"Mmmm..." a pathetic wet mumble fell from your lips as Harry choked out a groan, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake the kids and you felt him throb and throb as he dropped his mouth open wide and pasted his hips against yours, unloading hours and hours worth of vital come into your womb, his balls emptying every drop inside of you.
You were very much done for by the time he pulled out but Harry wasn't. He angled your hips up with a heaving chest and stuffed himself back inside, holding his shaft to keep steady as he fucked his come into you, "There we go. Let's get that all in there," he watched as he dipped inward, keeping you full of his sperm, wet squelches (NSFW LINK - opens up a tumblr audio porn, no visuals 😈) coming from your pussy with the way he was plunging back into you to make sure his come didn't leak out, "Get that pussy fed and happy," he hissed as he pumped in gently, his cock sensitive to the touch after his orgasm.
He enjoyed the view of it... your shiny puffy pussy wrapped around his thick shaft as he pushed his come back inside you until he couldn't stay hard any longer. You were sure that was baby number three.
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THE PHOTO
Frankie Morales x f!reader || 580 words
Summary: you find Frankie’s photo.
Tw: none, fluff, young Frankie, insecure reader, pining, loveeeee
A/n: I needed some comfort so I wrote this little thing, inspired by the picture above. Hope you’ll like it<3 kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics
MASTERLIST || more Frankie
You’re looking at a photo of Frankie and soon tears well up in your eyes. Strong emotions overwhelm your heart and you take a deep breath and press your palm to your chest, trying to calm down.
Frankie and you were group mates in college. You saw each other almost every day but you tried to keep your distance, hiding a huge crush on the guy. Full of insecurities and fears all you dared to do was to steal glances at him here and there, but sometimes, when he wasn’t looking, you couldn’t help but stare.
During classes you would daydream about taking his cap off, running your fingers through his soft curls, hugging his broad shoulders, kissing his plush lips. He often chewed on his pencil, brows furrowed, gaze full of thought, and you were sure that it was the cutest thing in the world.
Whenever Frankie caught you looking at him, he would smile, and your cheeks would immediately heat up. You’d drop your eyes to the desk, frozen, trying to stop your heart from beating too loudly.
That smile of his, playful but never mocking, when directed at you, was a highlight of your day. Yet you were not the only one he smiled at, you thought, he was just friendly like that. You weren’t special.
Frankie was wonderful - kind, helpful, handsome. He’d never be with someone like you. You tried very hard not to idolise him but the nagging voice in your head always reminded you that you didn’t deserve him, weren’t worth his attention. You used to avert your eyes from his, as they were too piercing, too beautiful, they burnt you every time you felt them set on your face.
One day Frankie and you came to classes early and the hall was empty except for the two of you. He began chatting with you and you talked back, shyly at first, shaking like a little bunny inside. But the more you talked, the lighter you felt, and soon you were laughing at his jokes, looking him right in the eye. The fire that had scorched you before turned into the sun, warming and gentle, breathtakingly exciting but comforting at the same time. Your soul was singing when he was there with you and you thought that your heart was right when it had chosen him. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on your part but Frankie seemed upset when the other students joined you.
Lost in the memories, with the picture still in your hand, your eyelashes still wet, you don’t notice Frankie walking up to you until his strong arms wrap around your waist from behind and you feel his bearded chin rubbing the delicate skin at the crease of your neck. His naked chest is warming up your back like a furnace through your thin nightie and you happily sink into his embrace as he asks,
“What are you doing here, my love? You know I hate waking up alone.”
“Nothing. Just found this photo of you by accident. Look, you were so young and handsome.”
“And now I’m old and ugly, uh?” He grumbles with a fake annoyance in his voice and you giggle, turning around and throwing your arms around his neck.
“Well, maybe less young but as handsome as ever,” you whisper against his lips before giving him a soft kiss. Frankie hums with pleasure, hugging you tightly, and then parts from your mouth to gruff,
”C’mon, let’s get you back to bed, Mrs Morales.”
“Love when you call me that,” you purr and gasp when he lifts you in his arms and carries you to the bedroom.
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MASTERLIST || more Frankie
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