#the older you are when you die the more opportunities you have had to REALLY make amends | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

artdcnaldson · 4 months

Text

Tie Break || Art Donaldson x Reader ; Patrick Zweig x Reader

this can be read as a sequel to changeover or as a standalone :) enjoy <3

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v smut x2, f!recieving oral, handjob, creampie, cum eating), angst with a happy ending, infidelity, toxic relationships, everyone in this is kind of a horrible person, language obviously

Summary: It’s summer in Atlanta, 2011. For the second time in your life, you’re the clear second choice. When the opportunity arises, you find a temporary distraction in Art Donaldson.

A/N: FINALLY here it is! The 2011 Atlanta fic. They’re back, they’re older, they’re even more toxic. Let me know if you’re interested in a part 3!

It was hot, even though the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. It was a cloying, oppressive heat that made the stupid, business-casual top you wore stick to your skin.

The article you were working on was halfway written, something you could knock out in the next hour if you really tried. Your drink was watered down from the heat, weak when it hit your tongue. A frown turned your lips, but you really shouldn’t have been drinking anyway.

"Working late?”

The voice was so familiar that you could’ve recognized it anywhere, any time. Art Donaldson was one of the most recognizable men in the country, but to you, he seemed so different. The boyishness was still there, but it lay beneath a new level of confidence.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to appear nonchalant, like it hadn’t been four years since you last spoke. “I’m on deadline. I’m writing a feature on Anna Mueller heading into the US Open next month.”

Without asking, he sat down across from you at the small bistro table. He was so close you could smell the minty gum he had been chewing. It nearly made you smile. Old habits die hard.

“So you write about tennis?” He asked, meeting your gaze.

“I write about athletes,” you corrected. “I was going to be here anyway, and since Anna is heading for a Grand Slam, I thought it would be easy enough. Grab a couple of interviews, watch a few matches.”

He nodded, leaning back in the chair, trying his best to be causal in a situation that definitely wasn’t. You sipped again at your drink, peering at him over the edge of the glass.

“You have a match tomorrow,” you said, as though he needed reminding. “Shouldn’t you be listening to shitty pop punk to get yourself psyched right now?”

A smile spread across his lips, and he looked so much like the guy you knew from college that it made your chest tug uncomfortably. Same hair, the same smile, the same crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he was amused by something. You couldn’t help but smile along with him, like the past four years were nothing. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said with a laugh. “Do you want another drink?”

You looked down at your glass, mostly water and thin ice cubes. “Rum and coke?” You asked, giving him a tiny smile. He nodded and disappeared towards the bar.

It felt strange, sitting there in the quiet, your article the furthest thing from your mind. Four years. It felt like yesterday and an eternity ago that you’d last spoken with him. He was a familiar stranger, nearly unknowable.

Your cursor blinked a few more times before you shut your laptop and slid it back inside your beat-up work bag.

“Running off?” He asked, catching you in the act of packing your things. You shook your head and accepted the fresh drink with a smile. “You said you were going to be in Atlanta anyway,” he said as he sat, spreading out, making himself comfortable in the shitty bar seating. “When you were talking about writing about Anna.”

You nodded. “Mhmm, I did,” you replied, chewing the inside of your lip nervously. His gaze was intense, falling just on the other side of casual. You felt tiny under that gaze, like you were guilty of a crime you didn’t know you’d committed.

“And you’re here for Patrick?” The words were nonchalant, but you could hear the accusation beneath them, the history of the two of them just in one sentence. It turned something in your stomach, the possessiveness in his voice. You could hear it, even four years out.

The new drink was strong, but it was the perfect way to hide the distaste in your expression. The burn of liquor into your chest grounded you back in reality instead of the easy allure of nostalgia. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I try my best to go to all of his matches.”

Art narrowed his eyes, just slightly. There was still an element of exaggerated friendliness, the casual smile on his lips, the open body language. All of it masking the lingering resentment and hurt that was buried beneath mountains of nostalgia. Deep enough that neither of you had realized it was still there until you found yourselves face to face. There was an unspoken question, one that he didn’t want to ask, one that you didn’t want to answer.

How long?

You took another drink.

“Where is Patrick?” He asked, glancing around like he might materialize out of thin air.

“He went out for a smoke, or to walk around and clear his head, or something,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not his keeper. Where’s Tashi?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away— a sore spot. A scab you wanted to pick at until it bled, dig your nails in. Maybe that was your eighteen-year-old self talking.

“You never used to let her get too far away from you,” you noted, mirth dripping from each syllable. “Bet you came down here looking for her. Your leash must’ve been just a little too loose this time and she slipped it.”

You took a long drink, nails tapping against the glass as you considered your words. Tashi wasn’t the type of woman who let a man hold her back. If you were trying to be more accurate, rather than just piss him off, you might’ve fixed the analogy. Art was the sad little puppy following her around. She tied his leash to a lamp post for a fucking break.

“Do you remember the day Tashi got injured?” He asked, changing the subject suddenly.

You blinked slowly, appraising him. But his expression gave nothing away. “I do.”

A wry smile spread across his lips, and he met your gaze with a coldness that you didn’t recognize. Mean in the way injured animals like to snap at the nearest hand. “It was Patrick in your room that night, wasn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed, face falling at his words. “What?”

He made a face, something akin to skepticism, but crueler. It made your stomach turn.

“You were fucking someone in your room,” he said plainly. “And I’ve always had a suspicion that it was Patrick. Was it?”

That didn’t do much to clear up your confusion. “You were there?”

He laughed, mirthless, and nodded. “I was, uh, sitting by the door like an asshole. I came to apologize, to beg for you back, but instead, I spent the night listening to my girlfriend getting fucked on the other side of the door.”

Annoyance flickered in your gaze. He knew of a wound of your own, and he relished in picking at it the way you’d relished in digging your fingers into his. “I wasn’t your girlfriend, Art.”

“Right, you weren’t. But you’re Patrick’s girlfriend now, is that it?”

Heat burned in your cheeks. Your relationship with Patrick was… tempestuous to say the least. Most of the time he was your boyfriend, but others he was just a friend that you could count on for a good fuck, sometimes not even a friend. At the moment, he was the former, but that could always change.

It wasn’t easy, being with someone whose emotions ran on an equally short fuse. You’d sound too much like his parents, or he’d devalue your work, or Patrick would forget to take out the trash in your apartment and you’d snap, or you’d mispronounce a word one too many times and it would drive him crazy. Insignificant things could feel big with him, because of him. For better or worse.

“At the moment, yes.”

“At the moment.” He echoed, laughing like he was in on some joke you were painfully unaware of.

”That’s amusing to you?” You asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged, picking at his jeans. “Your choice of words is interesting.” He lets that hang in the air before he meets your gaze again. “Do you think Patrick would’ve even noticed you if it hadn’t been for me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Does it matter?” You asked. “You realize that we’ve been together going on four years now, right? Broken up, dating, fucking, whatever. You realize that there may be more important things in our life than you?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I think you know that whatever you have, it’s built on the fact that you were a warm body when he needed it. Just like you were for me.”

That arrogant expression, like he actually fucking knew anything about you anymore was the last straw. You stood suddenly, grabbing your bag. You weren’t Art Donaldson’s little lapdog anymore— you didn’t have to sit there and take all the shit he doled out.

“Goodnight, Art. Thanks for the drink.”

It was funny, how your weaknesses were still so exposed. Art’s was Tashi, and it probably always would be. His desire to be seen, to impress, painted upon every lovely feature. And yours, raw and bleeding and obvious— the unbearable, visceral need to be wanted.

You made it to the elevator before you felt his presence behind you. Wordless, but so close it was suffocating. You jabbed the up button over and over in frustration, knowing it wouldn’t speed anything up.

Art stepped into the elevator with you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He always burned hot, like a human furnace.

It was silent as the lift lurched upwards. You pressed against the back corner, watching the number of the floor increase one by one.

“Patrick is with Tashi,” Art said without looking at you, just as the elevator opened on the floor of your room. You froze, swallowing hard. “I saw them in the hotel bar, then they left together. What do you think they’re doing right now?”

You shook your head dumbly, pulse thrumming in your throat. “Go fuck yourself, Art,” you said weakly, because what else was there to say? You stepped into the hallway— lit with dim yellow light so you couldn’t see where the wallpaper peeled and the carpet was stained.

“If you need somewhere to wait them out, and you will, I’m in room 13 on the seventh floor.” The elevator doors closed, and you were alone.

The hallway was winding, and you felt a bad sort of anticipation of what you might find, like a sick feeling in your gut. You stood in front of the room, 306, and froze.

The door to your room was closed, no light shone from beneath the door, but you could hear them. Muffled, but clear enough. A pretty voice and breathy moans. Patrick’s laugh, the thud of something falling off the dresser.

Your room key was in your purse— you could’ve gotten it out and stopped it, but what good would that have done? You’d still spend the night humiliated, facing opposite walls as Patrick, lying in the same sheets he’d just fucked her in.

You dropped the bag by the door and took a slow, shaky breath to calm yourself down.

Tashi Duncan. She had lingered on the edges of your relationship with Patrick too. She was Patrick’s first choice, just as she’d been Art’s. You’d never blamed them for that, you knew where you stood, and you chose them anyway.

It was easy to choose them when you thought that the threat was nonexistent— when distance made you feel safe. You could hear her and him, but it felt like mere static in your brain.

You knew how Art felt, back at Stanford. Sulking outside the door, unable and unwilling to stop what was happening on the other side.

You were in the elevator before you realized you’d walked away. Shitty soft rock played over the speakers, and a poster on the wall advertised a continental breakfast. Your stomach turned uncomfortably.

You knocked on the door— room thirteen, an unlucky number. Maybe it didn’t bode well. As you waited for the door to open, your nails tapped a staccato rhythm against your thigh.

Art opened the door like he’d been expecting someone else. Maybe he had half-expected you to interrupt and send Tashi back upstairs, but no. He got you standing at his door with fiery eyes and an expectant expression.

Second choice, second choice, second choice.

Art kissed you for the first time in four years, and you let him. Not because you wanted to hurt Patrick or Tashi, but because you knew it would hurt you. His tongue pressed between the seam of your lips like he belonged there, licking into your mouth like he wanted to reclaim every part of you that Patrick had touched. You pushed him with a firm hand on his chest and he stumbled backward into the room. Despite everything, he smiled.

His hotel room was nearly identical to yours and Patrick’s. But you didn’t have time to really take in the details when he had his tongue in your mouth, kissing you hungrily.

That afternoon, you kissed Patrick after he lost his match. You wondered if Art could still taste him on your tongue then, if he wanted to drown out the taste of him.

It was different than you were used to. Four years with Patrick meant that you’d grown accustomed to certain ways that he did things— the intensity behind each kiss, each touch. His emotions— good, bad, in between— were never masked, never repressed.

When Patrick kissed you, when he touched you, when he fucked you— both of you were laid completely bare.

Art was different. When he kissed you it was through a certain level of performance, like he’d learned how from a searing romance film. In college, you’d believed that he kissed you like that because deep down, he did love you. Even at that moment, years out from your relationship with him, it muddled your brain.

Your sensible work heels had long since been kicked off by the door. Art’s fingers undid the button and zip of your jeans deftly, with a confidence that had only doubled since Freshman year. They wound up in a heap against the hotel dresser.

In his haste to remove your (also sensible, and very business casual) button-down, he popped about half of the buttons off completely.

“Sorry,” he said. The grin on his lips made you wonder if sorry was really how he felt. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Stop talking.” You pulled off your bra and lost it somewhere across the room in your haste. Art was pulling off his clothes— his hoodie and the shirt beneath. His jeans and shoes toed off and left to be dealt with later.

He kissed you again, guiding you exactly where he needed. Your knees hit the back of the mattress and he eased you down without moving his lips from yours. When your head hit the sheets, you smelled perfume so sweet that it was nearly intoxicating. You turned your head, breathing deeply. Tashi. In this same bed, in this same spot. It made something stir inside you— right in your chest. A hint of wrongness, a hint of hurt.

Art pulled back, moving his lips along your jaw, down to the junction of your throat.

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against your skin, kissing down to your tits. “I don’t want you thinking about Patrick. Not when you’re with me.”

The words were mumbled against soft, supple skin. His eyes were intent as they looked up at you, the demand of momentary fidelity in his eyes. You wanted to slap that expression off of his face, or run your thumb along his cheek and hold his face in your hands.

How was it fair that he asked you that when he’d lingered like a ghost on the edges of whatever it was that you and Patrick had? How was it fair for him to look at you like that?

He took a nipple into his mouth and you gasped as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. Soft kisses before he suckled softly. “Okay,” you gasped, lying through your teeth. “I’m only thinking of you.”

His hair was still long, kept the same way he wore it in school. Your fingers tangled in his hair like muscle memory, scratching against his scalp as he kissed along your skin with wet lips, treating your other breast with the same, hungry attention.

“Still so fucking hot,” he mumbled against your skin. “Should’ve— fuck— should’ve kept you. What do you want, huh? Tell me.”

Your mind swam with possibilities, but you didn’t even know where to begin. Your mind was stuck on his previous words. Should’ve kept you. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? “I don’t know,” you replied, completely honest. “Whatever you want.”

He accepted that easily— it was so similar to how you’d been for him in college. You gasped as he kissed down your sternum, then your stomach. His lips found the waistband of your panties and he grinned, tugging at the lace with his teeth, letting it snap back against your hip.

He peeled your panties down slowly, letting his hands trail down the expanse of your legs. The possessiveness of the touch sent a thrill up your spine. His lips grazed along your skin, from your ankle, up your calf, then your knee. Your legs spread instinctively, welcoming him right back where he knew he belonged. His pretty lips trailed wet kisses up your thighs, stopping just where you wanted him.

You expected him to rush. He’d seen Patrick and Tashi leave, which meant they’d finish before you two, more likely than not. There was every reason in the world to make things quick— to fuck you and make you leave.

Instead, he took his time with you. Soft, teasing kisses peppered on the supple skin of your thighs before he nuzzled into your cunt. The first delve of his tongue was slow and exploratory, tasting the arousal that had pooled at your core.

”God, you still taste so fucking sweet.”

Another thing you’d nearly forgotten about Art— in all things, he was methodical.

He started with kitten licks at your clit— light brushes with his tongue that made you whimper needily for more. His tongue circled you there, and he relished in the way your fingers tugged on his hair at the sensation.

Then he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking with more pressure until a strangled moan squeezed past your lips. Your thighs tensed on either side of his head, holding him there as he alternated between slow, soothing licks and firm suction.

It was frustrating, how wet you were. Art had brought out the worst in you, turned you into something that left you feeling genuinely embarrassed. And still, you were slick, dripping down to the sheets. A mess of arousal and Art’s spit.

When he eased a finger into your cunt, it slid in like your body was made to fit whatever he could give you. At that point, you very well could have been. What were you, if not an object orbiting in the atmosphere of his life?

He looked up at you, seeming so fucking intent on making it feel good for you as he crooked his finger. It rubbed against the soft, spongy spot within you and you cried out, eyes rolling back.

“That’s it, huh?” He cooed as he pressed a second finger inside of you. Your arm was slung over your face. You couldn’t let yourself keep looking at him when he was looking at you the same way he had in college. The same fucking expression that got your head all mixed up in the first place.

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit and you whimpered. “I know it feels good, baby, just relax.”

His fingers thrust within you with a slow, deep pressure as he continued to make out with your clit. It was always so good with him— you’d nearly forgotten how easy it was for him to bring you to the edge.

When you came, it wasn’t like what you had grown used to with Patrick— sudden and overwhelming, like it had been ripped from some secret place within you. It was intense, but slow to build, seeming to last forever as Art’s fingers and tongue worked you through it. Your breath was shaky as he pulled back, pretty mouth wet with your arousal.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, looking up at you expectantly.

You should’ve stopped— rationally, you knew that it was best to turn back and quit before you fucked up the situation beyond repair.

But it was Art. He could’ve had anyone else, but he wanted you. Maybe not forever, or even longer than that night. But for then.

You shook your head softly. “No. Do you think we should stop?”

His fingers moved between your thighs, circling your clit. “We definitely should. You’re with Patrick.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he caressed you with featherlight touches. “Don’t fucking talk about him,” you said, but your words came out with no bite. How could they, when he was playing with your body like a favorite toy?

“No?” He asked. He was wearing a smug sort of expression. “You don’t want me to talk about your boyfriend, huh? Too personal?”

You moaned as he applied more pressure at the apex of your thighs, making your cunt clench and ache to be filled.

“Does Patrick know how much you’ve missed me?” He asked. Your breath caught in your throat, and he just smiled. “I bet he does. I think he knows that if he just drops my name in a conversation, your pussy gets wet.”

You moaned softly at his words, chest heaving with soft pants. You weren’t even sure if it was true, but it felt like it could’ve been then. He leaned down, his words spoken close to your ear.

“I can go slow. Make it last for you.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

You nodded eagerly, turning your head to capture his lips with yours. The kiss was slow, like you had all the time in the world. His tongue against yours, the weight of his body on top of you, the feel of him hard, pressing against your thigh.

He sat back to strip off his boxers, and you relished in the sight of him laid bare before you. You’d nearly forgotten how pretty he was— big and flushed nearly red with need. It made your heart hammer with nerves; your excitement and shame and need rolled into one messy, electrifying tangle.

His hair flopped into his eyes as he held himself over you, just like you remembered. You reached up, brushing it out of his eyes with a tender hand. His lips brushed against the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse thrummed in your veins.

“Tell me you’ve missed me.”

Heat flooded your entire body, as you repeated the words. “I missed you, Art.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, and guiding it towards your entrance. He moaned and bucked instinctively into your hand.

”Tell me you want me to fuck you, no one else.” You could hear the implications in his words. Tell me you want me, not Patrick.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Art pressed himself inside of you, sinking into the welcoming warmth of your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him closer, deeper, until his balls pressed firm against you and there was nothing else to give.

He thrust shallowly, rocking against a spot deep within you, one that made your eyes flutter with each brush against it.

“You’re so tight still,” he moaned, lips moving against your throat. “Pussy’s made just for me.”

He touched you like he hadn’t forgotten how you felt or what you needed. Spoke to you like you were one of his possessions.

You lost yourself in it— the sweet, filthy words spoken against your skin, and the rhythm of his body moving against yours. His lips captured yours with a hungry insistence, like he could convey four years' worth of unspoken words with a few brushes of his tongue against yours.

When he pulled back, lips spit slick and looking so pretty, you thought maybe there was a sort of understanding between the two of you.

His head fell back as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his release. There wasn’t time to stretch it out, to spend as much time as you could with each other’s bodies.

“Need you to cum,” he said, sliding a hand between your thighs to rub your still-sensitive clit. Your cunt was squeezing him tight, body aching for it, for him, brought to the edge simply because he’d asked for it. “C’mon— you get so tight when you cum, need to feel it again.”

It was like your body was hardwired to give him exactly what he wanted. You came with broken moans of his name and legs squeezing him closer, deeper. Your chest heaved with shaking breaths and punched out whimpers as he kept fucking into you.

He was practically crushing you with his weight, pinning you down, groaning into the junction of your shoulder.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” his words vibrated against skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat.

”Want you to.” Your arms slung around his back, holding him close to you. “I’ve got an IUD, so you can— you can cum.”

His lips met yours as he came, with a pretty moan into your open mouth and slow, messy kisses that made you want to just melt into him and stay that way forever.

Spent, he rolled over and turned on a lamp at the bedside. The alarm clock announced the time in a dim red glow— five past one.

You lay there, damp between your thighs from the mixture of your releases, unsure of what to do. It was cold beneath the hotel AC. He was peering over at you, wearing an expression you were scared to dissect.

When his hand touched your arm, you nearly flinched. Your breath caught in your throat as he ran his thumb along your skin, so sweetly that you felt that same discomfort tug at your chest.

“C’mere,” he said, an offer. His arm was splayed over the pillows, giving you the perfect spot to lie down and press yourself against his side. To pretend like you belonged there.

But you didn’t belong there. You belonged four floors down with Patrick. That’s where you had belonged for four years. The reality of what you’d done had set in quickly, and you knew you needed to get out of Art’s room.

”Art,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

He nodded and sat up against the headboard. You watched him grab his boxers and pull them back on, a strange smile on his face. He must’ve sensed your confusion, even without you saying.

“It’s funny how things change,” he said. “Here I am, asking you to stay for once.”

You didn’t say anything as you picked up your clothes from around the room, redressing as you recovered each piece from its hiding spot around the room. Your shirt was unsalvageable, so you grabbed Art’s. He had plenty of brand sponsors that would jump to replace it, and Patrick wouldn’t recognize it.

“I loved you, I think,” he said suddenly. “Back in college.”

You froze, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him. “Art—“

“No, I did. I loved you, I just did it all wrong.”

“Art, just stop,” you said firmly. Embarrassment hit you all at once— the guilt of what you’d done, and the shame over who you’d done it with. Your eyes stung as you looked at him. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

His lips twitched, dipping into a frown, then back into as close to a neutral expression as he could manage. “I just thought you should know. It’s only fair.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Fair? Jesus Christ, you really haven’t changed, Art.”

His expression fell completely. It looked like it had back in the hotel bar— icy. “I haven’t changed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed as you looked at him. “It means that if this were Stanford, that would’ve made me crawl right back into bed, lay by your side, and daydream about what it could mean for us. If one day I might be Mrs. Art Donaldson. It means that you say these sweet things to me every time you can feel me slipping away, but they mean absolutely nothing. We’re not nineteen anymore, Art. I’m not leaving Patrick to be your plaything again.”

His jaw tensed, and he looked down at the bed briefly while he picked at loose threads on the sheets. “You think that’s what I want?”

You frowned. “I think you want what Patrick has.”

He scoffed. “Patrick doesn’t even want what he has,” he said, relishing in the wounded look on your face. “If he did, he wouldn’t be fucking my fiancée right now.”

Fiancée. You felt stupid for not knowing it, but you swallowed down your hurt and met his gaze. “I guess we’re both going to have to be content with being the second choice.” You slipped on your shoes and went for the door. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, Art. I sincerely hope that I never have to see you again.”

The hallway felt colder when you stepped outside of the room and shut the door firmly behind you. A very big part of you wanted to go back, to knock and apologize and grovel like you might have when you were a freshman.

Maybe you hadn’t grown up that much after all.

The elevator was playing Billy Joel. You leaned against the side of the elevator, relishing in the cold against your sticky skin. When the doors opened on your floor and you stepped out, you blinked in surprise.

Tashi stood in front of you for the first time since college, looking just as stunning as you remembered, probably more so. Her hair was pulled up, slightly damp at the ends. Her eyes flicked down to your shirt, Art’s shirt, you swallowed as an understanding passed between the two of you— wordless, because what was there to say at that point?

”You left your laptop in the hallway,” she said, skipping formalities. “I took it inside so it wouldn’t get stolen.”

“Okay,” you said, chewing on your lip. She stood there like she expected something more. You felt her surveying you, and froze as she reached forward and rubbed at your bottom lip.

“He could’ve at least cleaned you up a bit,” she said. Her fingers delicately fixed your hair, tucking it back into place. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from the side of your mouth. Once there was nothing left to fix, she looked at you one last time and nodded. “You should be fine now.”

Before you could process that, she stepped into the elevator, and you were left alone in the hallway. When you made it to the room, the door was cracked open, so you let yourself in.

Patrick was on the balcony smoking a cigarette, a towel slung low around his waist. The bed was a fucking wreck, not that he seemed to mind.

When the door clicked shut, he stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and joined you back in the room.

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked. His jaw tensed as he looked at you, like he was ready if you were going to start a fight.

“I just want to go to bed, Patrick,” you said, annoyed by how wobbly and pathetic you sounded.

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead. “Okay. We’ll go to bed.”

You kicked off your clothes, but left on Art’s hoodie. Patrick didn’t ask where it came from, or what happened to what you were wearing earlier. You knew he already knew, that he could tell the moment you walked in. He dropped the towel onto a heap on the floor, climbed into the bed, and held out his arms for you.

A stronger person would’ve told him to fuck off, but you weren’t a stronger person. You nestled into his side and felt the hot sting of tears in your eyes.

He rubbed your back soothingly and kissed your forehead. The sheets smelled like Tashi, he smelled like hotel soap, and you smelled like Art’s cologne.

“Do you want room service in the morning?” He asked softly.

“Patrick—“

“I’m serious. We can have breakfast in bed, do some tourist-y shit, maybe we’ll go watch a couple of matches, then come back and—“

“Are we supposed to just forget what happened?” You interrupted.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” He kissed your forehead, tender, sweet. “I’ll tell you everything if that’s what you want.”

You met his gaze. “Do you… do you want to know? About Art?”

He went quiet as he played with the ends of your hair. “Did it make you feel any better?” He finally asked.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Then it didn’t.”

He kissed the crown of your head. “No?”

You shook your head, sighing softly as his kisses trailed down, over your nose, to the sides of your mouth. “No. It was a mistake.”

”Tell me about it,” he said, murmuring against your jaw. “Tell me how he touched you.”

You shivered, tilting your head to give him more access. Your nails scratched softly against his scalp as he sucked bruises onto your throat.

“He was desperate,” you said, heart hammering as you began recounting it to Patrick— your boyfriend. There was no world in which he should’ve wanted to hear about it… and yet. He moaned against your throat, encouraging you, wanting to know more. “Kissed me like he wanted to taste you in my mouth, like he wanted to overpower you.”

Patrick moved his lips to yours, kissing you with a sloppy brush of his tongue against yours. “Like that?”

You shook your head and leaned in, deepening the kiss with slow laps of your tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, matching your pace in a way that was rare, but made butterflies dance around in your stomach. He pulled you on top of him— hands roaming from the backs of your thighs to squeeze your ass as he deepened the kiss. It was just as slow and sweet as before, but you could sense the need and hunger behind it.

You pulled back, just enough to remove your lips from his. Both of your breaths came in needy pants. You weren’t sure why you were enjoying this, but you were, so you kept going. “He took off my clothes, and laid me down on the bed.”

Patrick moaned, chasing your lips. You sat back and just looked at him— lying there with still-damp curls, his pupils blown with lust. His cock was hard, resting against his stomach, precum beading at the tip.

You pulled off Art’s hoodie and tossed it across the room, relishing in the way Patrick’s eyes raked over every bit of exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it. “He ate me out, made me cum on his fingers first, then again while he was inside of me,” Patrick’s breath caught, just for a moment. Desire, or jealousy, or both flickered across his gaze. “He fucked me like he wanted me to fall in love with him again.”

Patrick’s chest was heaving as you moved a hand between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand, stroking slowly. “Is that how you fucked Tashi? Like you wanted her to pick you instead of her fiancé?” He moaned as your thumb ran over his slit, smearing the precum that had begun to dribble out.

“No,” He groaned. You nodded encouragingly, squeezing him tighter in your fist. “Fuck. I fucked her like I wanted her to know she made a mistake. Made her cum until she tapped out”

You ran a thumb over his bottom lip, tugging slightly. “With this pretty mouth, huh?” He nodded, wordlessly. “And with this?” You gave a slow stroke of his dick, making him buck up into your fist. Another nod.

“Show me.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Show you?”

You nodded and continued stroking him. “I told you about Art, so I want you to show me how you fucked Tashi.”

You recognized the fucking insanity of what you were asking, but you didn’t care. It was a strange form of closure— closing the circle, or whatever.

“Fuck, okay. Lay back,” he said, patting your thigh. You slid off his lap and settled atop the sheets, watching him expectantly.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, and he slid them down slowly. “Fuck.” Your cheeks flooded with heat as he held the sodden fabric up, wet and sticky with Art’s cum. He groaned and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. “That’s… god, that’s really fucking hot, baby.”

Oh. The mix of embarrassment and desire was something new— burning hot in the pit of your stomach as Patrick licked at your pussy, tasting the evidence of your arousal mingling with Art’s release. He moaned against you, holding you so tightly that his fingers dimpled your thighs.

His tongue lapped at your entrance, pushing into your cunt as deep as he could manage, then back to licking at your clit. It was messy— a combination of spit and cum and your juices.

“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair as he sealed his lips around your clit. He moaned loudly against you, encouraging you to do it again, the fucking masochist.

He redoubled his efforts, pulling you closer, moaning against your cunt. It was like he wanted to devour you, to lick up every bit of Art that was left inside of you. You wanted him to try— you wanted him to replace every part of Art that was left in your body and soul.

“Patrick,” you gasped. He murmured an mhmm against your pussy. Eyes closed, right at home between your thighs, lost in the taste of you. “Need you inside.”

He planted one, two sloppy kisses to your clit before he pulled back, his lips shiny with your arousal. He wiped the mess away with the back of his hand, smirking down at you. “You need me, huh?”

You nodded, chest heaving with each panting breath. Patrick sat down at the headboard and patted his thigh. “Prove it.”

You sat up, crawling up the bed until you were straddling his lap. “You made her do all the work?”

He laughed, running his hands up your thighs to squeeze your ass, tug you closer. “I didn’t make her do anything.” Patrick had a hand wrapped around his cock, and you moaned softly as he guided it between your thighs to notch at your entrance.

You sank down slowly, forehead pressed against his as you took inch after inch. “Fuck,” you breathed. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his as you gave a slow roll of your hips. “Fuck. You’re so deep, Pat. Feels so good.”

His head fell back against the headboard as you began to ride him in earnest. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, still wearing that fucking smirk, even balls deep inside of you. “That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

And you did. The way he was looking at him was proof enough, he was eating up every fucking second of you fucking yourself on him, using him like a toy.

Your noises were near-pornographic— Right there, fuck, you’re so big baby, so fucking deep.

The poor soul next door slammed on the wall, begging for you to just shut the fuck up. Patrick silenced you with a hungry kiss— a mess of tongues and spit. His fingers moved on your clit, pulling you towards the edge with desperate need.

“Close,” you gasped.

He nodded, moving his fingers faster. “I know you are. I’ve got you.”

You collapsed on top of him as you came— hips canting weakly as he worked you through it. He thrust up into your tight walls, groaning at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock.

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he groaned, burying his face into the junction of your throat. “Gonna cum— fuck—“

You moaned softly at the feeling of him spilling inside of you— the soft pulse of him, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt. You stayed on his lap, kissing his freckled nose, his eyelids, his mouth.

When you finally moved off of him, you whimpered at that loss of fullness, and of the slick mess seeping out between your thighs. If you were smart, you would’ve gone and cleaned up, but there was nothing more you wanted than to lay there in Patrick’s arms and fall asleep.

Whatever. You’d leave housekeeping a very generous tip. He sighed contentedly as you lay there— like you were made to fit against him perfectly. A warm hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, and you felt so at home, even in an Atlanta hotel.

“I love you, you know that?” He asked.

You looked up and nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

You found yourself staring up over at Patrick with a stupid, persistent smile on your face. He turned to watch you watching him, wearing a matching grin on his face. It was hard to tell who started laughing first— you or Patrick. At the absurdity of it all, at yourselves.

“God, we’re so messed up,” you said, with another laugh.

He nodded. “Really messed up, but whatever. Apparently your brain isn’t even fully developed until you’re 25.”

“Great, so we have one more year until we’re normal, rational adults.” He laughed, holding you against his chest.

He reached over and kissed your forehead. You were so sticky and gross that you really needed a shower, but, again— it was a tomorrow problem.

It fell quiet, and you could feel yourself slipping into comfortable drowsiness when Patrick finally spoke up. “Are we going to be okay?”

You blinked slowly. With your hand resting on his chest, you could feel his heart thudding just beneath your palm.

When you were twenty, you met Patrick’s parents. Crowded into his childhood bed with your head resting against his chest, his heart pounded as he apologized for the intense grilling you’d received that night at dinner. It was the first time you ever felt like his bravado had been shaken, like you were seeing through to the core of him.

You always knew you would be the one to say you loved him first— it was just the way things went. “I don’t care if they like me,” you had assured him. “I love you.” His heart beat harder, faster. He didn’t say it back until two days later, when he was fucking you in that very same bed— forehead to yours, skin sticky with sweat. “I love you,” breathed into your mouth like air.

When you were twenty-two, you moved into an apartment in Manhattan and Patrick followed like a housecat— no rent, no job, just company and a mouth to feed. The tour wasn’t going well, and you were working for a shitty, clickbait news site that hardly covered the cost of your place.

Things were good, mostly. Comfortable, domestic. Patrick tried to be a good boyfriend, you tried to be a good girlfriend. Both of you were trying to figure out what that meant for the other as best as you could. Patrick would bring you flowers from the corner store and take you out for drinks and dancing on weekends. You’d drive out on holidays to visit his family and wind up leaving early to go back to the comforts and peace of your apartment.

When you could, you’d follow him out to tournaments. If he won, he’d take you out with the prize money. If he lost, you’d take him back to the hotel to cheer him up.

On rough days, one of you would come home to the apartment and pick a fight over laundry, or a dish left in the sink, or even what he’d left on TV, and the other would give it back tenfold. Your neighbors would beat on their walls in annoyance as you yelled at each other, until one of you slammed a door and sulked in another room for a few hours, or you had make-up sex that gave the neighbors another reason to bang on their walls.

The breakups were infrequent but severe. You’d kick Patrick out, he’d live out of his car, or in a motel, or fuck off to some tennis tournament that you’d previously promised to go to. One of you always broke first, returning to the other with promises of love, and to do better.

You did love each other, really. And things usually got better. It was just easy to live with your feelings dialed up to a ten where Patrick was involved: bigger good moments, worse bad ones.

Your career had vastly improved. Patrick had moved up in the rankings, only slightly, but it was something. You could afford a bigger apartment in a nicer area, maybe get a dog. And you didn’t just want those things alone, you wanted them with him.

You pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and nodded. “We’ll be fine,” you assured. It felt like the truth.

He nodded, looking down at you. His freckles were so much more pronounced after tournament after tournament in the blazing sun. “Yeah, probably.”

The next morning, you both got the continental breakfast you’d seen in the elevator while housekeeping dealt with the aftermath of the previous night. You did tourist-y shit— went to a museum, found a nice spot for lunch.

At the end of the day, you sat in the oppressive Atlanta heat with Patrick and watched Art Donaldson win his tennis match. You and Patrick left early, fucked in the backseat of his car, and decided to head home early.

As you started the drive back, you held his hand over the center console and listened to a shitty mix CD with songs he’d ripped off of LimeWire. You gave him shit when Kelly Clarkson followed Lil Wayne, but you both sang along to every fucking word.

You were right. You and Patrick would probably be fine.

#patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson #challengers 2024 #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #changeover au #my writing

1K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 4 months

Text

careful what you wish for | alex albon social media au

pairing: alex albon x fem norris!reader

be careful what you wish for because sometimes childhood dreams come true (not the way you think though)

MASTERLIST | BROTHER'S BFF MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 453,096 others

yourusername: it's sweet treat hour in the paddock

view all comments

user1: oh to be a person in the f1 paddock getting a sweet treat

user2: ummm actually i think i deserve one more than any of the guys on the grid

yourusername: probably true lol

georgerussell63: BLASPHEMY

landonorris: blood is CLEARLY not thicker than water 🤨

maxverstappen1: i can't believe this betrayal

charles_leclerc: puppy play date is OFF

yourusername: not you people proving them right within 0.5 seconds.

user3: y/n really is god's strongest soldier these fools must be so annoying

alexalbon: not me tho

landonorris: nuh uh 😐

alexalbon: sorry to burst your bubble lando but on the scale of least annoying (me) to most annoying (carlos) ... well marketing love carlando for a reason

landonorris: Y/N TELL HIM TO STOP BEING MEAN TO ME

yourusername: i'm not your mum, defend yourself

landonorris: ???

carlossainz55: THERE IS NO WAY I'M THE MOST ANNOYING ON THE GRID? Y/N TELL HIM THAT

yourusername: keep your car away from oscar and maybe

oscarpiastri: thank you grid mum 🫶🏻

carlossainz55: grid mum clearly showing favourites 🤨 does my sleepovers at the norris household mean anything?

yourusername: your old ass does not need a grid mum be fucking for real

carlossainz55: GASP!

alexalbon: nevermind what ever the fuck that was... the sweet treats slapped, thank you very much

yourusername: see this is why you're my favourite

oscarpiastri: i am right here

logansargent: :(((((

yourusername: NOOO MY LITTLE DUCKLINGS I LOVE YOU

user4: the way y/n has taken to oscar and logan makes my heart so warm

user5: her missing a lot of the start of the 2023 season and logan saying he started to feel less lonely when she was back coming to races as she went out of her way to support him

user6: her and alex going to miami a week early and acting more like parents than logan's actual parents

user7: it's like the older drivers are her grid kids but she only goes full mama bear for oscar and logan

user8: i'm gonna need this friends to lovers arc for alex and y/n

landonorris: do you people ever shut up

yourusername: LANDO ???

landonorris: sorry you have to die single sorry i don't make the rules

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63 and 1,405,788 others

tagged: alexalbon, landonorris & georgerussell63

f1: ALBON P5!!! now that's why lando had a poster of him in his childhood bedroom

view all comments

user9: i know lando forever regrets bringing that up all those years ago

user10: since we know how close alex and y/n are... i'd bet a lot of money y/n brings it up at any opportunity

yourusername: LET'S FUCKING GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

alexalbon: always knew you were my biggest fan

yourusername: it must be a norris thing

landonorris: alex the literal f1 account is making fun of me and you're SAYING SHE IS YOUR BIGGEST FAN

alexalbon: okay buddy lets calm it down

landonorris: don't put me in time out you're not my grid dad

alexalbon: am i not?

this comment has been deleted

alexalbon: i wouldn't claim you dummy

landonorris: i saw that ............. interesting

user11: the way this is the biggest hint for y/n x alex we've ever gotten but lando is not putting 2 and 2 together

yourusername: i've never had to try to keep a secret from lando i've always had to spell it out for him we're safe

landonorris: who is we?

user11: i see what you mean

georgerussell63: good lord, will i ever get out of the alex DRS train?

alexalbon: NEVER MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA

georgerussell63: have you already started drinking?

alexalbon: maybe, you know y/n can't mix drinks for shit

yourusername: P5 in a williams calls for a throwback college tequila punch

maxverstappen1: college tequila punch without me THE FAVOURITISM HAS GOTTEN OUT OF HAND

yourusername: you AND I QUOTE said "never talk to me again, i don't want to see you with any kind of receptacle that a person could drink out of, i never want to see a bottle of tequila ever again i feel like this is a hangover that will be passed on as some kind of generational curse"

maxverstappen1: now you say that i do recall saying something similar

user12: the way oscar and logan were so happy for alex, that's a grid dad for real

logansargent: we knew all of our drinks would been on his tab 🤞🏻

oscarpiastri: and he brought our kebabs!!

user13: how do i get this kind of treatment on my nights out?

logansargent: you have to third wheel alex and y/n when they're insufferably cute 👍🏻

this comment was deleted

user14: i'm on to yall

alexalbon

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 720,987 others

tagged: yourusername, logansargent & oscarpiastri

alexalbon: post night out munch with my favourites

view all comments

user15: oh i can smell the arguments coming

yourusername: no one die i'm putting my phone on do not disturb

user16: so real

georgerussell63: HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT THE SANCTITY OF OUR FRIENDSHIPS I THOUGHT WE WERE PLATONIC SOULMATES OUR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER SEWN INTO THE VERY FABRIC OF OUR BEING

alexalbon: well damn

georgerussell63: well damn? WELL DAMN? THAT'S IT YOU ARE NOT INVITED ON MY ANNUAL EASTER SUNDAY WALK AND BOUTIQUE EASTER EGG HUNT

landonorris: wow that'll really show him george

georgerussell63: LANDO WHAT THE FUCK WE NEED A UNITED FRONT

yourusername: babe this isn't trench warfare

georgerussell63: i thought you weren't getting involved this is a GALEX DISCUSSION

charles_leclerc: i thought this was a twitch quartet dicussion?

georgerussell63: maybe if you people MADE YOURSELF USEFUL IT WOULD BE

charles_leclerc: you know what i don't like your tone. i am very secure in my friendship with alex and am happy he has other thriving friendships especially with those who have recently joined the team and need the extra comfort

alexalbon: finally a normal person

user17: what is happening

user18: i think this is what the kids call losing your shit

user19: kinda feels like it's ended prematurely

alexalbon: he's at my door

user20: oh? should we like maybe be afraid?

yourusername: WHY AM I LIVING IN THE SHINING RIGHT NOW DOES HE HAVE AN AXE?

landonorris: hold on .... why are you there?

yourusername: george russell is at the door screaming for justice potentially wielding a weapon and that's what you took from that?

landonorris: ummm yes? there's something weird going on here

oscarpiastri: i'm also here

logansargent: me too (PLEASE SEND HELP)

user21: well wasn't that just ... delightful

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 903,788 others

tagged: oscarpiastri & yourusername

landonorris: this whole grid kid thins has gotten out of control why is this kid being treated better than ME in my OWN HOME

view all comments

user24: how could lando be angry look how pookie oscar is

oscarpiastri: this is what i'm sayingggggg

yourusername: so fuck me i guess

user24: babe that's alex's job

yourusername: you right

user25: HOLD ON PEOPLE IS THAT Y/N/ALEX CRUMBS ???

user26: quick add it to the spreadsheet

alexalbon: there's a spreadsheet?

user26: we don't fuck around about your hypothetical relationship with y/n

alexalbon: that much is clear (send it my way asap)

yourusername: talking about favouritism in the norris household as if i have not lived with this for MY ENTIRE LIFE

landonorris: booooooo let me complain (did you or did you not get your weird kids from my career favouritism in the family)

yourusername: don't weaponise my children against me

landonorris: but they're so annoying oscar is eating all of the ROAST POTATOES THIS IS THE NORRIS FAMILY DINNER EVERYONE KNOWS THE ROASTIES ARE MINE

oscarpiastri: not anymore :P

landonorris: choke

oscarpiastri: don't make me call my dad

landonorris: call him up i'll beat his ass at this point I CAN SEE YOU TAKING ANOTHER POTATO

oscarpiastri: @alexalbon :(

alexalbon: keep my kid's name out your fucking mouth

landonorris: excuse me?

yourusername: ugh that's so hot

landonorris: EXCUSE ME?

user27: well .... add it to the spreadsheet?

landonorris: i'm so close to blocking all of you

yourusername: i thought you loved alex :(

landonorris: not that much

alexalbon: i see....

landonorris: NO I'M SORRY I TAKE IT BACK I LOVE YOU ALEX (YOU BETTER NOT BE SHAGGING MY SISTER HYPOTHETICAL OR NOT)

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, charles_leclerc and 528,095 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: silverstone babyyyyyyyyyyyyyy i hope my home treats my boys right

view all comments

user28: i would give a kidney to be there for real

user29: you might have to the prices at that race are INSANE

landonorris: finally the home race which means you actually have to root for me

yourusername: ehhhhhhh

landonorris: girl i did not get much sleep last night wtf do you mean EHHHHH

yourusername: alex is a london boy

georgerussell63: once again fuck george i guess

yourusername: you didn't give me time !!!!

georgerussell63: were you actually going to say it?

yourusername: no ❤️

landonorris: right george i think it's time to unionise against y/n and alex

yourusername: the fuck do you (do we?) know about unionisation babe our family are the capitalist machine

user30: so like when are we getting the full albon pets meetup with sausage?

alexalbon: you always treat me right

yourusername: only the bestest for you

alexalbon: oh wow i'm blushing

yourusername: i can make you do a lot more than that

landonorris: do you mind?

yourusername: LET ME FLIRT IN PEACE GOD I CAN'T HAVE ANYTHING

alexalbon: yeah let y/n flirt with me in peace

logansargent: he's giggling and swinging his feet - we might even get a skip away

alexalbon: sue me

user31: alex and y/n being so tired of lando is so true

oscarpiastri: they match each other's freak and they really need to let that freak flag fly

logansargent: as they should i need to post some of the cute pictures of them my phone storage is suffering

landonorris: i'm throwing my phone out of the window

user32: confirmation? CONFIRMATION?

alexalbon

liked by georgerussell63, maxverstappen1 and 1,359,086 others

tagged: yourusername

alexalbon: bro my nurse is hot as fuck

view all comments

user32: bro nearly died and THIS IS WHAT HE POSTS

user33: is it insensitive for me to celebrate that they're together on a post just hours after he was in a massive crash

yourusername: probably but we'll take the compliment regardless

georgerussell63: let it be known i'm annoyed that this is how i found out about this relationship but i'm so glad you're okay and that you had your person with you as support

alexalbon: my person awwwww georgie you're such as softie, but thank you i'm all good

yourusername: i knew you loved me really georgie

georgerussell63: i'll come round to this i guess

yourusername: so no more morning visits with weapons

georgerussell63: THERE WERE NO WEAPONS

alexalbon: you called me many mean words and sometimes words are our biggest weapons

georgerussell63: shut the fuck up

yourusername: that's not very peace, love and kindness he nearly died russell change up your tone

user34: YESSSSSSSSS WE CAN FINALLY SEE THE TRUE POWER OF THE ALEX/Y/N SASS

user34: also obviously very happy alex is okay

user35: i fear we as a fandom do not have our priorities in check

landonorris: i wouldn't leave the hospital if i were you

alexalbon: is that a threat?

landonorris: very much so

maxverstappen1: he's serious i'm literally holding him back (it's not hard he's like a gremlin)

landonorris: A GREMLIN WHO HAS BEEN GIVEN WATER

yourusername: but i thought you loved alex? surely this is the least offensive option on the grid?

alexalbon: awwwwww babe

maxverstappen1: i'm really not sure thats the compliment you think...

landonorris: NO I DO LOVE ALEX BUT NOT LIKE THIS

yourusername: it could be worse, you're besties with alex - i could've gotten with carlos or pierre!

carlossainz55: excuse me?

pierregasly: what did i ever do to you?

yourusername: whores ❤️

landonorris: true they are whores

alexalbon: and i'm a big ol family man

landonorris: you keep that to yourself

oscarpiastri: get well soon dad

logansargent: we love you !!!

yourusername: don't think we've forgotten about you exposing our relationship....

alexalbon: but we love you anyway

yourusername

liked by logansargent, landonorris and 783,209 others

tagged: alexalbon

yourusername: f1 cars are too dangerous actuallyyyyyyyyyyy you're all BANNED

view all comments

user36: finally some good fucking food

user37: i feel like we've been waiting for this relationship for so long i expect a wedding invitation at this point

alexalbon: yeah soz only the girl with the spreadsheet is getting an invite

user26: SCORE

alexalbon: well aren't we just the cutest couple in the world

yourusername: i fear we are

yourusername: and if any of you hoes try and comment any dumb shit like "us erasure" i'll break your toes

georgerussell63: oh! okay...

maxverstappen1: sure i guess so...

charles_leclerc: i'll let you have your moment for now

landonorris: i'm single but i want to be involved

user38: the lipstick print... i'm weak

user39: they already made me feel lonely before we got confirmation i think i might need to redownload hinge

landonorris: ugh i guess you guys are kind of cute

yourusername: of course we are one of us is a norris

landonorris: TRUE 💅🏻

alexalbon: ??? so you don't want to kill me anymore?

landonorris: no i guess not

landonorris: also max put a bell on my chain and my fingers are too fat to open the clasp so i can't sneak out to kick your ass

maxverstappen1: he really is an overgrown toddler

alexalbon: also your 5'2 ass is not beating mine

landonorris: i am NOT 5'2 i am 5'10 at the least

yourusername: girl you're maybe 5'5 and i WILL be getting my lick in if you fight alex - revenge for all those hair pulls all those years ago

landonorris: i'd say stop defending alex but you've always done that... i should've known

user40: so y/n really wasn't lying when she said she didn't have to hide anything from lando cause he doesn't pick up on anything 😭

landonorris: sorry i'm not actively looking for clues about my sister's sex life

alexalbon: bro i am in love with your sister lets frame this better

yourusername: hehehheheeehehhehe

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargent and 1,874,036 others

tagged: alexalbon & yourusername

landonorris: i guess i always did say that i wanted alex as a bigger brother, be careful for what you wish for kids

view all comments

user41: FINALLLLY

logansargent: you're telling me we've BEEN waiting

oscarpiastri: i kinda miss having a secret like what do i hold over lando now?

landonorris: DON'T THINK I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS YOU WILL BE DEALT WITH PIASTRI

oscapiastri: okay babe

landonorris: you really take after your mum and it scares me

yourusername: you shouldn't have such good friends that i just can't help falling in love with so really this is your fault

landonorris: sure.... but you have a good point, i'm very happy it's alex of all people

yourusername: you've really come round fast since you realised that we'll pay for your stuff whenever we go out

landonorris: what can i say stuff tastes better when it's free

alexalbon: you literally make double what y/n and i make

landonorris: and i'm the younger sibling so you should TREAT ME BETTER

user42: yeah we all knew lando was the younger sibling but he's giving massive annoying baby brother vibes

alexalbon: and he wonders why we prefer oscar and logan

landonorris: i'm just going to pretend i didn't see that

alexalbon: but for real lando, thanks for being the most annoying norris and having such a lovely and cool (and smoking hot) sister - i appreciate it!

yourusername: i love you too babe

alexalbon: don't worry you'll get to drop the last name soon

yourusername: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

yourusername: i can't wait to be mrs. albon

landonorris: blocked.

user43: i can't believe we got the conclusion to the lando alex poster storyline

landonorris: it wasn't exactly the conclusion i thought it would be but i'll take it

yourusername: you love us really

alexalbon: really you were just manifesting this for like ten years

fin.

note: here's a wee post from brother's bff before the race because i need somehtign to distract me from my horrible NERVES - ENJOY!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #alex albon instagram au #alex albon x reader #alex albon imagine #alex albon fluff #alex albon

2K notes · View notes

matramancer · 1 month

Text

Hoshina Soshiro with a Shinobu like! reader🦋

🦋Synopsis: Amongst the 3rd Division Officers lies one of the JAKDF's most unique fighter's--a swordswoman who fights kaiju with poison.

mitsuri! reader

🦋Tags: shinobu! reader, kny crossover, friends to pining, hoshina soshiro x reader, mostly fluff with slight angst in beginning and end, fem! reader, no beta we die like kanae

“If my combat level was just a bit higher, could I have killed that kaiju?”

That was the thought that rang through your head for years, from the moment you held your dying sister in your hands, to the times where you found yourself alone in your research lab, craning a vial of poison between your fingers.

The world’s first anti-kaiju poison.

You really didn’t know how exactly you qualified enough for the Defense Force. When you enrolled with your sister, you figured that she’d be the only one eligible to enter. Your body was smaller, and your combat power was low. You could barely wield a gun properly.

But throughout your weaknesses lies your hidden strength. You were exceptionally intelligent, using your ingenuity to focus your energy on other aspects of yourself you were keen on.

Despite your blatant hatred of them, you studied kaiju immensely, and turned to insects amongst other creatures as a base of study. Many, many kaiju shared similarities with a common animal counterpart. Science never lied, and if there was one way you could make up for your lack of manpower, it was your understanding. There were things you could do.

Your captain started to notice how intuitive you were–eventually landing you a spot in the research team.

You were content on not being dispatched or not being in the front lines as much, taking the opportunity you had gratefully nonetheless. You were still part of the action, and you got to observe specimens more closely. You even made friends with another officer, Hoshina Soshiro.

Hoshina and you had a unique bond, one riddled with understanding and mutual respect. Hell, the two of you go back a long way–you were actually batchmates. He was there when you got frustrated over your low combat scores after your shooting assessment, your older sister sporting a much kinder smile in contrast to your fuming face.

(He’s a bit reminded of himself and his brother)

He understands that feeling of being underestimated, of being swept under the rug. He knows most about how your small size can get under your skin. He shares that frustration of not being enough, not with a gun. Not with what the Defense Force expects of the two of you.

The two of you became fast comrades in arms, as you came to understand Hoshina’s own battles throughout his entire life. You encouraged each other to move forward, even vouching for his swordsmanship.

Similarly, if it weren’t for Hoshina noticing how nimble and swift you were, you probably wouldn’t have believed in your abilities a lot sooner. Although your combat level for shooting was low, you were definitely exceptional in terms of maneuvers.

Though Hoshina pushed himself to further be recognized for his talents and exceptional skill, something you actively encouraged, you initially stood in the backlines with your much smaller role. You were content with being behind your sister and everyone else, even as you secretly envied them. Feeling so much envy over how much bigger and stronger everyone’s backs were as they moved forward, that it made your chest hurt sometimes.

But when you lost your sister, everything changed.

Hoshina saw how it broke you. You were always quite temperamental–brash to him, even. Always so hot headed in contrast to your sister. But now, your anger has gone cold. Your hatred for kaiju turned into prickling ice, and on the times Hoshina caught you slipping off your facade, your immense hatred was so strong that the veins in your face seemed close to popping.

your resolve changed. You were to fight, to put your life on the line in any way you could. You threw yourself in your research, and for a certain period of time, only Hoshina was able to get through to you.

Then, one day, you emerged from your lab with something that could change the world..

You held in your hands the world’s first lethal anti kaiju poison. And you had every intention to test it out yourself. You had thrown yourself into the field, implementing an entirely new outlet of kaiju extermination all by yourself. For that, you were admirable.

And as kaiju poison was still a very new and experimental invention—your invention—you were the only front liner allowed to wield it.

You spent a great deal of time honing your skills with Hoshina–if you were to fight on the frontlines with this poison as your main weapon, then you were going to do it right. With half the physical strength your fellow officers had, you’d train four times as hard to make up for it. And if there was no stopping you, then Hoshina swore that he’d be there every step of the way, just as you did for him.

Your style of fighting was unique amongst the Defense Force, your high agility and field expertise a key cornerstone in your combat style. Where your combat level in gunmanship was low, similar to Hoshina, you held potential with swordsmanship.

Although you were aggrieved over your physique yet again being a hindrance (you just couldn’t compare your swinging strength to Hoshina’s), you were particularly adept in delivering forward thrusts and piercing motions. Perfect for injecting poison.

It fits you, Hoshina notes. You were never one for brute force.

The man always had a kick seeing the flabbergasted faces of the new recruits during their first time seeing you on the field. It’s something he looks forward to with a certain pride.

Afterall, you‘ve been with each other since the very beginning. When the Defense Force told you both to just quit. When the both of you just kept biting back, fighting for a spot to prove your existence. When you looked at him with so much pride in your eyes, congratulating him for securing his spot as vice captain. When he attached himself to your hip even in your lab, up until being the person standing right next to you when you received honors as well as your promotion.

Though you and Hoshina fought valiantly for your own battles, the other was always there to push the other forward when things felt too stifling.

So he couldn’t help but burst out the biggest smiles whenever he hears that you’re joining the frontlines on a mission with him again—this time, it would be your first mission with the newbies.

It was a silent night before a swarm of spider-like yoju invaded a part of the city, opting for an immediate dispatch of the 3rd Division. Whilst Captain Ashiro was to deal with the Honju, the many, many hordes of yoju required quite a bit of manpower in the frontlines due to its sheer numbers.

That was how Reno and Iharu found themselves cornered, the spider yoju proving to be a much trickier threat than expected. The darkness proved to be another hurdle—it made the dark colored yoju harder to spot. If they didn’t act fast, the swarm would overtake them…

“Iharu! I’ll fire rounds and give you cover! You hurry and call backup!” Reno keeps his shots steady, keeping the horde at bay.

Iharu immediately quips back, firing his own gun. “Hah?! No way am I leaving you—ugh!” He winces, narrowly dodging an attack. Things weren’t looking good, the swarm was imminent.

“HURRY, IHARU! WE’LL BOTH HAVE A BETTER CHANCE WITH REINFORCEMENTS!”

“—Oh my, so you’re the one who’s been firing freeze rounds.”

The two boys froze, goosebumps forming on Reno's skin in particular as the boy felt a sudden presence already by his side. Who— when did you—?!

With as little as a blink of an eye passing, the two boys watched with wide eyes as you nimbly dodged a group of spiders heading your way, as if you fluttered through the air.

Flabbergasted, Reno and Iharu watched as you made it through the infested street in record time, not letting a single yoju touch you. “So fast!”

“Heads up boys,” Hoshina chuckles, speaking into the comms. You had made it to Ichikawa’s position. “Watch your superior closely.”

You stayed so calm and collected, even when the situation seemed dire. Your presence on the battlefield was admirable. “Yoju behavior confirmed. Despite resembling arachnids, every cluster consists of a head yoju similar to the behavior of social insects.” You calmly spoke into your comms, withdrawing your sword. “Prioritize on taking out the mother.”

Reno couldn’t help but marvel at your sword—it was in a shape that he’d never seen before. Were you like the vice captain? But there was no way you could slash through anything with that…

Iharu’s eyes widened as a stray spider tried to sneak up behind you, promptly yelling at you. “WATCH OUT!”

Mid sentence, Iharu realizes that you had already lept to the air once again, and in the blink of an eye with unfathomable speed, you shifted through the yoju, leaving stinging pierces through the hoard.

“Butterfly Dance: Caprice.”

The two boys watched on in awe. It all happened so fast—but wait, none of the kaiju’s bodies or limbs seem severed?

It was silent, Reno and Iharu still catching their breaths as they scanned the vicinity. The kaiju were intact, but they weren’t moving. “Eliminating a kaiju doesn’t necessarily mean shooting or slashing it down.”

Your voice dropped to a sudden chill. “…Because there are swordswomen like me who use poison.”

As you finished your sentence, the two boys watched in awe as all of the yoju you hit crumbled to the ground, writhing in pain as their bodies shriveled. Then, they all dropped dead. The danger zone had been cleared.

Reno and Iharu watched as you spun your sword in circles, cleaning off the blood from the yoju before moving to face them. “Defense Force Division 3 Head of Research—(L/N) (Y/N),” you smiled, finally introducing yourself. “It’s nice to meet you, new recruits.”

You earned a place for yourself right alongside Hoshina as another remarkable swordsman in the 3rd Division. Your contributions to kaiju warfare were not only quickly making waves, but beckoning your presence in the field of bioweapons.

To be frank, it was a bit daunting, but if it gave you any chance to get closer to vanquishing the kaiju, you’d keep working hard.

Nowadays, only Hoshina knows of your prior disposition before your jovial, more easygoing front today. How you had morphed a new smile and attitude, akin to your sister’s. According to Hoshina, although your face was tranquil and soft, your eyes held full bloodlust, a desire of vengeance. A show of your actual temperament.

The only person you’ve really let your guard down around since losing your sister was him and him alone. He’s your closest confidant.

In addition to being the head of research, you oversaw the medical bay of the 3rd Division sometimes. After all, you did also carry medical expertise.

Perhaps the motivation behind that was from your sense of responsibility, as well as this small tug in your head that tells you to take good care of the division Hoshina was entrusted with.

Despite your kindhearted demeanor however, everyone knows not to trifle with you, especially when it comes to medical manners. No one under the 3rd Division has ever “forced themselves” to train before being fully healed ever since you started overseeing them.

Mina Ashiro herself testified to it. “Never again,” she states, not after experiencing your temper.

Well, whatever keeps the division healthy!

Hoshina enjoys crashing into your lab from time to time. He’s your most frequent visitor, to the point where you have a mug and some throw pillows on the couch reserved for him. He was like a cat going in and out.

“(Y/N)~” “Everywhere I go, I hear his voice.” “Oi, I’m right here.”

"..." When he feels your aura darken, he immediately shuts up and sits politely.

“(Y/N)~~ let’s go outside and train.” “It’s raining.” “Then let’s train inside.”

No matter how naggy and clingy he became however, you always keep him close. Because that’s how he shows how he cares.

“I know you’re there–” You don’t turn around from your seat, before a cold sensation on your cheek elicits a gasp out your mouth and forces you to turn back. You’re met with a bag filled with some warm takeout, and two cans of coffee.

Balancing everything on his hands was Hoshina Soshiro, grinning all the while. Your expression softens. “--Soshiro.”

“Missed you at lunch,” he starts. “Pity. All the new recruits were asking about you. guess I have you all to myself right now though.” You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but his tone shifted a bit into territory that felt more intimate.

These were really small efforts from Hoshina that you knew all too well, making sure you didn’t hole yourself up in your lab. And you always appreciate him and all he's done.

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room. You meeting Kafka as Kaiju No. 8 did NOT go smoothly.

Your strong hatred for kaiju ran deep, and Hoshina knew that. Your entire life’s work revolved around that. So when the entire debacle with Kafka happened while you were off base during the attack, Hoshina mentally prepared himself for the havoc that was to come.

The definition of “Don’t freak out when I tell you, but……”

Spoiler, of course you found out. And quick. You were the 3rd Division’s head of research who specialized in kaijus–of course you would know. In fact, On your rush to the 3rd Division’s base, you were immediately ushered to study him in captivity.

Like that was a good impression you’d give to someone who developed the world’s first and most lethal kaiju poison!

“(Y/N),” Hoshina calls out to you, throwing formalities aside. His eyes shifted to your hands, seeing your knuckles grow white, veins visible. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Calm down. “--Soshiro.” You replied, coldly. Hoshina holds a breath at that. He knew you would let your logic and rational thought prevail, but the hatred in you ran so deep, you could slip into a near constant state of anger if you let it get to you.

A new sensation enters your hand. It’s Soshiro’s, you realize, tugging on your own as if to ground you. He hopes it helps bring you back to reality. “I’m here–the 3rd Division is. We all wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t on our side. He saved us, (Y/N).” His gaze and yours meet. “He saved me.”

Luckily (and very thankfully, Hoshina would add on), you grew to become more understanding of Kafka’s disposition, and set aside your antagonistic views as you slowly opened your heart. You even properly thanked him for protecting the 3rd Division.

In fact, you’re quite compassionate with the man now. You check up on Kafka as often as you could, even providing him the fastest updates of any developments you had on his case. He’s also a great talker, you note, and the two of you even start doing catch up sessions over whatever recent developments have happened over tea whenever it was time for his check ups.

Hoshina feels a bit jealous that he’s no longer the only token visitor of your lab, not that he’ll ever admit it.

With the stakes of no. 9 rising, you knew that the situation would only get more and more dire. You’ve been getting busier days both in and out of the lab, studying samples of the recent high magnitude specimens and observing any abnormalities in kaiju behavior.

The hypothesis and predictions you’ve marked up however, don’t sound an ounce reassuring. A high class disaster seemed imminent, and when the time comes, you fear that your poison might not be enough.

Not with your sword alone, at least.

On one particular late night in your lab, you glance towards Hoshina. For once, the two of you were silent. You had finished for the night, whilst Hoshina probably popped in to check on you after a midnight session of image training. No kaiju attacks, no sirens, just the night sky ever present through your large windows. “Soshiro,” your voice immediately catches his attention, his full focus now on you. “Could you promise me something?”

“Should there be a kaiju–a strong one, and we aren’t able to defeat it,” his eyes widened, the grin on his face gone. “Could you finish the job?”

You let your words stay in the air, your eyes long downturned to the research papers on your desk. You escaped his distraught gaze, attempting to focus on the reports strewn about before they fly out of your vision, Soshiro’s entire being clouding your senses in their place.

The sight of his deep maroon irises caught your breath, and you quickly realized that Soshiro is being completely serious with you right now. He let out a silent plea, with both his eyes and his soul. “Please. Please don’t say that with that face.”

That night, as he held you close, you’re both reminded of the bond that ran tight between the two of you, a bond so strong after everything that you’ve been through together. Something that was forged through pain and joy alike. An innate force that was proof of how the two of you had become so important to each other. It spoke of the same thing,

“I can’t afford to lose you/I can’t afford to lose you too.”

A/N: Whew... thank you to those who enjoyed my mitsuri post !!!! mitsuri and shinobu are my absolute favs in kny, and it was rlly fun to write them into kaiju no. 8--i'd love to do more in the future.

#kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #headcanons #kaiju number 8 #speaking my truth in the tags #they r so cute #power couple.... mama y papa #PURPLE !!!!!

340 notes · View notes

imaginaryf1shots · 1 year

Text

Here For You | Lewis Hamilton

Words count: 1K

Lewis Hamilton X reader (established relationship)

Summery: When Lewis gets a podium and his team is nowhere to be found, but you stand there in a sea of red

Warnings: none

A/N: unedited

it really broke my heart seeing Lewis so alone after the race, the way he sat down waiting for his turn, while Carlando had their teams there. He looked so tired and defeted, thanks to the Ferrari and Mclaren who congratulated him.

Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

Singapore 2023, Sunday.

What an intense race, one of the best of the season so far. It was so close from start to finish, those last ten laps had you on your toes in anticipation. Leg bouncing up and down as you stared at the screen, Carlos, Lando, George and Lewis were stuck in a DRS train all for P1, George couldn’t overtake Lando no matter what he did. It’s under a lap left when the younger Mercedes driver drives straight into the barrier, your eyes open in shock, everyone is surprised, disappointment on everyone's faces in the Mercedes garage. Frustrated mechanics and just about everyone.

Your eyes don’t leave the screen, eyes on your boyfriend, but as the three round the last turn, he couldn’t overtake Lando, but he’s P3. you’re happy for him, so happy. You feel bad for George, he’s been doing amazing through the race, he was doing so good all weekend, and to end it like this breaks your heart. However Lewis is your number one concern, and he made it to podium after so long, and you knew given one more lap he could’ve overtaken Lando for P2.

Despite having one podium win, the mood in the garage was sombre. Everyone is so upset about George, you bit your lip as you waited for them to go to the barrier under the podium to meet their winning driver but no one made an effort to go and see him, despite them all going to congratulate George the day before when he qualified second.

You’ve been going to races for years, having been with Lewis a long time and every week you had free of work you were in the country he’s in supporting him every chance, sometimes you’d be there for a day or two, never missing an opportunity to be by his side, and you aren’t about to start now. So after two minutes you decided to just leave the garage, ignoring everyone, you couldn’t even see Toto anywhere.

Already Ferrari and Mcalren were at the barriers so you’d have to fight your way to the front. The heat had you a little sweaty as you squeezed yourself between the orange and red dressed people around you, trying to be heard as you moved but your voice fell onto deaf ears under the loud sounds and talking. Lucky for you Fred Vasseur Ferrari’s principal saw you struggling, the older man had talked to you multiple times, he and Lewis are on good terms and talk from time to time. He gestures for his team to let you through, and thankfully you make it to the front.

“God! Thank you so much.” You breathe out, huffing, you’re thankful you decided to have your hair in an updo today, feeling the heat from the crowd around you add to the heat of Singapore.

“It’s okay, it looked like you were about to die in there.” He joked, as you both turned to the front, Lewis was waiting to get weighted, your eyes stayed on him once they found him with a smile on your face as you answered Fred.

“Felt like it.” He laughs and pats your back, you look around the barrier for a moment, once Lewis is on the scale(?). No sign of a single Mercedes team member.

“What are you looking for?” Fred asks, also looking around.

“Mercedes.” was all you said, the man realises the absence of the team which is very odd. Lewis has been the forefront of the team for years, whether it’s a win or not, they should be cheering for him.

Lewis takes off his helmet and balaclava, he doesn't see you though. “Lewis!”

You call but your voice get drowned in the other sounds around you, your saving grace comes in Lando, he was walking to the wait for his interview when he saw and heard you, patting Lewis on his arm to get his attention, he points at you. The moment he sees you, you smile so wide at him.

Lewis also smiles, seeing you, when he got out of the car and couldn’t spot you or any of his team he felt crushed, he’s tired the race has been hard and having kept it together the whole race, doing better than the last few weeks, it definitely dampened his mood not seeing his team here for him. Seeing you now however brought him happiness that he’s grateful for.

Walking you to you, the driver wraps his arms around you, sweat and all, you holding as close as you could through the barrier, you close your eyes getting a tad bit emotional.

“I’m so proud of you my love, you did so great.” Kissing his cheek. Around you Ferrari cheered for you, making you laugh and pull back a little, but Lewis wasn’t ready to let you go yet, he held your arms in his.

“I couldn’t see you when I came in.” He tells you, you give him a sad smile.

“Fred rescued me, was fighting my way through to get to the front.” You say with a small giggle, he once again pulls you in for a second hug. “I love you so much Lewis.”

“I love you too… Thank you for always being here for me.” Lewis says low enough so only you could hear him.

“Always, I’ll always be here for you, you can count on that.” You run your hand up and down his back, hearing Lando do his interview. “It’s your turn soon, I’ll be waiting for you after the podiums.”

Lewis pulls back and quickly picks your lips, it’s rare that he shows PDA but in that moment he couldn’t help it. Lewis is a private man, and he likes to keep anything beyond the surface about the two of you away from the public eyes, so you know that your feed will be filled with edits and screenshots from your moment.

Watching Lewis on the podium with a proud smile you clap and cheer for him, as if it’s your first time seeing him on a podium, celebrating him as if he won a WDC. you couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel so you’d be alone with him and enjoy the night alone, just the two of you.

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #sir lewis hamilton #f1 scenario

2K notes · View notes

lazycats-stuff · 7 months

Note

Please make Bruce x male reader who's Ra's al Ghul's Brother? The reader isn't that involved with the league, like Ra's the big brother and shielded him, so he doesn't know that Bruce is batman and bruce also doesn'tknow thta reader's the brother of Ra'd, but at some point in their relationship the reader introduces him and the two only stay civil for the reader.

This is a recipe for disaster... But in every great way possible.

Summary: Bruce and Ra's are connected through (Y/N).

Warnings: Ra's being a good brother, minor cursing, Bruce and Ra's become frenemies lol

Ra's is a well known assassin in those circles. He is a formidable opponent for anyone who goes up against him. But there is one thing that he refuses to let his enemies know. Something he would rather die than reveal. His younger brother (Y/N).

When Ra's started the League, he kept his brother away from it. (Y/N) didn't decide to question what his brother was doing, but he knew what was going on to a certain extent. He was living with Ra's and has dipped himself in the Lazarus pit to stay young.

And (Y/N) was aware that it's not normal to have an army of trained ninjas walking around the premises, but he did not question it. Or the fact that he had to dip himself in the pit every few years to keep his youth.

But there was one thing he was certain of. His older brother would protect him with everything. Thus, Ra's and (Y/N) were very close, despite the fact that (Y/N) didn't know what Ra's was doing. Therefore, (Y/N) didn't know that Bruce Wayne was Batman.

We'll get to that a bit later.

After years of living with Ra's, (Y/N) wanted to see more of the world and move. Ra's nearly got a stroke when (Y/N) said that he wanted to move, but he knew that his brother wouldn't want to stay here forever. He helped (Y/N) move to... Well, (Y/N) has decided to move to Gotham City.

Ra's has warned (Y/N) that Gotham City is a city full of crime, nasty people and just overrun with criminals. (Y/N) has said that he would be fine, since Ra's taught him how to defend himself. Ra's' was still beyond nervous, but refused to show it.

Another problem was Batman. If Bruce found out who (Y/N) was, he could use (Y/N) as a pawn for his attack against Ra's and Ra's fought too hard to keep his brother safe. But he relented, knowing that he couldn't jail his brother forever.

Ra's relented and allowed (Y/N) to move to Gotham. He has decided to help his younger brother get settled in. He bought (Y/N) his place since (Y/N) has found a job in Gotham and normally it would have taken a while to get settled in, especially in a financial situation.

And Ra's is anything but rich so he helped his brother. And may or may not have decided to put a secret bodyguard to keep his brother safe. A guard that will just blend in with Gotham people and just stay off of (Y/N)'s radar.

And Bruce's radar too.

And so Ra's and (Y/N) came to Gotham city, Ra's helping (Y/N) to move his things and make the apartment a little bit more warmer and make a more home feeling.

" Tell me brother, are you sure you don't want to go back home? " Ra's asked as he put a box down in the kitchen.

" I'm sure Ra's. I really thought this out. I thought about it thoroughly." (Y/N) said as he put a box down and plopped down on the couch, tired from the move. He sighed and just plopped down on the couch face first this time.

" I will miss you. We have been through a lot together over the years. " Ra's said as he sat down the couch, smiling at his brother. " I guess I should have known you would want to spread your wings a bit and search the world so to speak. "

" Yeah... And Gotham sounds fun actually. "

Ra's scoffed and chuckled at the same time. " How is it fun? It's ridden with crime and filth. "

" But it's fun when you never know when you'll get mugged or not. " (Y/N) said into the warm black couch.

Ra's laughed and patted his head playfully. " Really? Are you nuts? "

" Nuts? I'm just looking for some new opportunities. " (Y/N) said as he turned on his back, looking back at his brother.

" You are really insane. " Ra's said chuckling, leaning back against the couch.

" Maybe... But I really craved change. " (Y/N) said as he put his head on Ra's lap and sighed. " You are still my older brother and I love you... I just want you to know that. "

Ra's smiled at that. He knew that very well. After all they have been through through the years, they have created an amazing bond and Ra's has swore to protect his little brother for as long as he was alive. And that was something that he has intended to do it for as long as he can.

After all, he is a man of his word.

" How about we order something to eat? And get some wine? You know I live for red wine. " (Y/N) said as he got more comfortable.

" Sure, why not? " Ra's said quietly petting (Y/N)'s hair. It was soft to the touch, the result of the years using the Lazarus pit to keep himself younger and healthier.

" Some Italian food? Or Chinese? Or something else entirely? " (Y/N) asked Ra's, wondering what they could eat.

" Well, before we order, I want to let you know something. A few rules to keep me happy. " Ra's said and (Y/N) sighed quietly, shifting his head in Ra's lap to look at him with more attention, to show him that he was listening intently.

" I'll visit at least once a month, just to make sure you are alive. Secondly, I'll text you every morning and you should respond, just so I can know you are alive. Other than that, I have no problem with you doing anything else. "

" Even dating? " (Y/N) said chuckling and Ra's sighed, shaking his head with an amused smile.

" Yes, even dating. And if something happens, call me. I'll be here as soon as possible. " Ra's said softly and (Y/N) nodded. He always knew that. He knew that Ra's would always protect him.

" I know you would... Thank you brother. " (Y/N) said and Ra's patted his cheek.

" Always my brother, always. "

And that was a little over a year ago. Ra's and (Y/N) were in constant contact and the two brothers were now in (Y/N)'s apartment, sipping some red wine that Ra's has brought during his last visit.

" Anything new my brother? " Ra's asked as he swirled the wine in his wine glass.

" I'm dating. "

Ra's raised his brow and turned to look at his brother instead of wine. " Really? "

" Yes. We have been going out for about 6 months. " (Y/N) answered as he sipped his wine.

" Oh? Is it a he or a she? "

" It's a he. If you can stay a day longer, you can meet him tomorrow. " (Y/N) said and turned on the TV, knowing that the news are going to be on soon.

" I do want to meet the man who stole my brother's heart. " Ra's mumbled, sipping his wine slowly, happy that his brother was dating and he seemed happy.

" I'll tell him to drop by here. " (Y/N) said as he quickly texted Bruce to come by tomorrow at this time.

" Is he treating you well? " Ra's asked, putting his wine glass down on the coffee table.

" He spoils me rotten. " (Y/N) answered with a soft smile and Ra's nodded. Good, as he should.

" And you treat him well too? " Ra's asked as he tilted his head.

" Of course I do. " (Y/N) said rolling his eyes, amused by his brother's questions.

" Just asking, want to make sure you are happy. " Ra's justified himself.

(Y/N) huffed and crossed his arms, playfully turning away from Ra's who laughed.

" Oh please, I know you don't mind me asking those questions. " Ra's said as turned his brother around to face him.

(Y/N) huffed at that, rolling his eyes.

" Oh I know you don't. "

Tomorrow evening came by quickly and Ra's and (Y/N) were patiently waiting for Bruce to arrive. (Y/N) has cooked an amazing meal and put it on the table just as the doorbell rang. He wiped his hands and quickly moved to open the door. Ra's positioned himself so he could see who would enter from the hallway, while waiting.

(Y/N) opened the door, saying hello to Bruce, who in return hugged him tightly and kissed him softly. In his arms he had a bouquet of roses and a bottle of red wine.

After that, (Y/N) led Bruce to the dining room/living room and both Ra's and Bruce froze. What the fuck?

" Bruce, this is my older brother Ra's. Ra's, this is my boyfriend Bruce." (Y/N) said, introducing the men who already know each other, but not for good reasons.

Bruce handed (Y/N) the roses and the bottle of wine and shook hands with Ra's, who could have killed Bruce on sight. His younger brother, with Batman... Oh hell no.

" I'll put the bottle and the flowers away. " (Y/N) said and quickly left and the two men stared each other down.

" What are you doing with my brother? " Ra's whispered to Bruce, anger seeping into his voice.

" I didn't know he is your brother. " Bruce whispered back quickly, eyes glancing at the hall where (Y/N) went to put the flowers and the wine again. " Doesn't he know who I am? " Bruce added, still whispering.

" No, because I keep him away from the League business. "

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. " Okay, we are staying civil for him. "

" Couldn't agree more. But hurt him, I'll kill you more times than you can count. " Ra's threatened and sat down as he heard his brother coming. Bruce followed suit and (Y/N) came back with a small smile.

Bruce and Ra's glanced at one another. They will be civil for (Y/N) and (Y/N) only.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader

418 notes · View notes

ikeuverse · 1 year

Text

MARRY ME — l.heeseung

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, humor WC: 6.1k+

WARNINGS: mention of alcohol, kissing and i think that's it. let me know in case i have forgotten something.

SYNOPSIS: ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.

NOTES: here i am with my first enhypen story. this plot came to me from some funny video compilations i saw of hee and knew he would do it. so i just let my imagination run wild. i don't have a taglist yet, but i can provide one for the next stories. english is not my first language, so sorry for any spelling mistakes too. hope you like it!

masterlist

You felt that since you met Byeol, your best friend since the third grade, you would never be alone again. And you were really right. You look at that little girl who walked shyly into the classroom, her front tooth almost growing into a gaping smile as she clutched her box of crayons against her chest.

"Hi" was the first thing she said as she approached you "I'm Byeol, what's your name?"

"Y/n" you smiled too, but unlike her, your tooth had grown long enough since last month.

And since that moment you two have never been apart. Not even when Sunghoon, the younger boy next door, wanted to play with you in the school playground. There was born the purest friendship trio you could ever imagine.

Afraid of the inevitable changes in life like school life for example, your thoughts were flooded with "What if they find a better friend than me?", or you and Byeol always talked about Sunghoon starting dating in high school and just walking away from two female friends because the girl would surely die of jealousy.

"That will never happen" Sunghoon smiled at you two during the coffee the trio shared every Thursday morning before math class "Because I know you two long before you have all your full teeth. You are like my sisters."

That was extremely cute and comforting to hear, even more so coming from Sunghoon who rarely showed his feelings to anyone. But not to you and Byeol. As he himself said, you were like his sisters, and that was amazing.

In high school a lot changed, for sure, but the friendship of the three of you always became stronger and stronger. You both saw Sunghoon cry when he got a low grade in science, and Byeol comforted you together with Sunghoon when his model broke down because of the rain that had come without warning on the day of the art assignment. The three of you were each other's safe haven. You were always together and always shared almost everything - even the people around you. Like, for example, Byeol's younger brother.

Heeseung had never been anything but the youngest brother and later became one of Sunghoon's best friends. Byeol knew that this would happen even because Sunghoon would not deal with two female friendships for the rest of his life. And Heeseung was always close, so the feeling of losing his best friend would not be a problem. But for you it had been a nuisance.

Well, not so much. Heeseung was beautiful, outgoing and very funny. And this last fact made him make fun of practically everything that might be going on. And that wouldn't leave you out.

It all started with little teasing that he also had with Byeol. Because you two were always together, he might see you as a second older sister, hence the teasing and funny nicknames he gave you and your sister. But it wasn't just that.

You regretted the day you were at the Lee brothers' house, studying for the next big exam for the second year of high school. You and Byeol were paying attention to all the video lessons she had separated with the content while eating the last piece of chocolate cake Mrs. Lee left for both of you. Your attention quickly came to a screeching halt when a squawk came from the kitchen door.

"Who ate the last piece of cake?" Heeseung was panting and in baggy workout clothes. The basketball just below his arm and his hair stuck to his forehead in his sweat wave.

"Me" Byeol smiled victoriously as soon as her brother's scowl was present "And y/n helped me" at that moment you felt a strange chill in your stomach as his expression softened. Soon an angelic smile that was almost never given by Heeseung.

"Oh, she can."

"Why?" Byeol asked raising one of his eyebrows.

A short period of silence until Heeseung went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. He made his way around the counter so as not to get in the way of the study session and returned to the kitchen door.

"Because since we're getting married, we need to give things away for each other. Right, y/n?" he cast a wink in your direction, leaving shortly thereafter.

And that's when the saga began.

Each and every opportunity that Heeseung had, he said that he would marry you. And the reason? You didn't know. Because he always annoyed you, just as he annoyed Byeol. So why, all of a sudden, did he simply say that he was going to marry you?

In the third year of high school, where parties became more frequent, it seemed that Heeseung took even more pleasure in saying this to each and every person who was around him. Besides Sunghoon, he now had a few other friends that he had met because of basketball and the extra-curricular classes he took to try to get a good college education. Jake and Jay joined the group without much effort, while Jungwon, Sunoo and Niki, even younger and in other years of high school, met because of the friendly basketball games Heeseung liked to play on the outdoor court on the weekends when the school allowed it.

"What's up man, are you okay?" Heeseung left his drinking cup on the kitchen counter, looking intently at Sunghoon, who was sitting in one of the chairs.

"I think…" the boy sobbed "I'm drunk" Heeseung let out a loud laugh.

"You think?" he saw that his friend was going to answer, but was interrupted by his arrival.

"Oh God, Sunghoon, I finally found you" you sighed with relief, nodding to Heeseung as you approached your best friend "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough for me to find him" Heeseung replied "Where's Byeol?"

"With Jay around" you shrugged.

"What?" Heeseung froze every muscle in his body, imagining Jay's hands on his sister's body and whatever he had to do to her. Soon a frown of disgust showed on his face.

"Come on, like you've never done that" you reached for a glass of water to offer Sunghoon.

"Of course not" he boasted "I'm waiting for our wedding day, then I can do whatever I want."

Again, you rolled your eyes at the typical answer, but you smiled because he was smiling - or because Sunghoon laughed, you wanted to believe faithfully in the latter option.

And over the years this had never changed, but you also didn't care how often Heeseung talked about it. Your friends had gotten used to the amount of flirting he gave you, and how your eye rolls had become smaller in comparison to the dull smiles you threw in his direction.

"It's a win" Sunghoon muttered once to Heeseung, pouring the cheese packet over his french fry. Heeseung tried to deny that it had made his heart beat faster, so he took a bite of his salad and went back to paying attention to his college book.

Because now he needed to graduate. Being in his last year was a lot of work, but he liked what he was doing. He liked the path his life was taking and he saw that all his friends were happy and fulfilled, so this made Heeseung call this the best moment of his life.

The best until he looked at Jay's dark orbs on a Saturday night, glowing and he didn't know if it was because of the light of the room or because they were watery.

"You… you're going to propose to her? Oh my God, man!" Heeseung now looked more nervous than his best friend.

"I don't know… Do you think it's a good idea?" Jay stammered "I mean, it's been two years. We've graduated and I've just stabilized myself in this new job, I wonder if I'm being hasty?"

He knew he wasn't. He knew that Jay had planned this since the third year of high school when he started dating Byeol. Heeseung was a jealous brother yes, but he was fully aware that his best friend made his older sister happy. And this was also due to the fact that if she was happy, the whole atmosphere was happy.

Your friends supported this, you and Sunghoon supported this, so Heeseung had to support it too. He had to give a positive sign so that Jay would finally make the big request.

And that was why now Byeol, you and Sunghoon were sitting at the bar. At the present moment of their lives.

"Why are you here, anyway?" Byeol asked Sunghoon "You are part of Jay's party, not mine" her sneaky smile made Sunghoon chuckle a little, turning his attention back to you.

"Am I being kicked out?" he whispered, but not loud enough since both you and Byeol heard perfectly.

"I guess so, and you know she's right" you tried to look serious, but giving away your lie as you smiled along with the boy.

"Okay, I'm leaving" he held up his hands in a sign of surrender, straightening to get up from his chair "I only came here because Jay and Heeseung wanted to know if everything was okay."

"Oh, yeah" Byeol rolled his eyes "Soon the girls will arrive and everything will be fine, I promise."

Sunghoon nodded and drank some of the contents of the cup that was right in front of him. You grumbled quickly, but let him drink, since you would soon fill it with soju once more.

"Okay, we'll get them as soon as you two can no longer pronounce your own names."

"You're the best friend in this world" Byeol hummed.

"Hey!" you pretended to be offended.

And with a stretch of her arms, she motioned for the two of you to come closer. You, who were sitting next to her, slid down the bench and soon snuggled in. Sunghoon approached seconds later, hugging you both as tightly as he could. Placing a kiss on the top of both of your heads as he whispered:

"I love you both too much, please stay safe until we come back for you."

Saying that you both loved him too, making sure that he could be reassured while he was with Jay and the rest of his friends, you and Byeol smiled until he left the bar.

"Okay, enough soju… How about something stronger now?" she winked at you, and as if your best friend read your thoughts, she nodded to the bartender in search of the most fiery drink in that bar.

"Shit, how am I going to call Jay now?" Byeol forced her eyes down the screen of her cell phone, trying to press her fingerprint to unlock.

"Ok, are we that drunk?" you giggled to your friend, staring at the other girls chattering at that table and continuing to drink the round they had ordered.

"I think I am" she laughed as well "Do you want to try calling?"

"To Jay?" you asked, wrinkling your forehead as she gave you her cell phone to call. She shook her head positively, hoping you were a little more sober. But maybe not. You and Byeol had about the same intolerance to alcohol, so you were either equally drunk, or you were even a little more drunk than she was because you had turned the last glass of booze over as if your life depended on it - or because you swore it was a little water and were too thirsty.

Your miserable attempt to unlock Byeol's cell phone took a good few minutes before a name started flashing on the screen. Your vision tightened just enough that you saw Heeseung's name flashing.

"Your brother is calling you" you pointed the device at her, but didn't actually hand it over. Byeol didn't ask either, letting you answer the call right away "Hi, Heeseung."

"Y/n? Hi" a little noise was heard in the background of the call. He and the boys were also at a bar for Jay's party, after all "Are you two okay?"

"Yes" Byeol always agreeing with your every look, as if you were going to lie to her little brother.

"That's great" he laughed muffled on the other end and right next to your ear from the pressure you were putting on the phone, it made your whole body shiver "Do we need to pick you and Byeol up now?"

A short pause for you to put the phone away and ask your friend if she wanted to leave at that moment. She nodded, but kept refilling her glass as she offered more to you as well.

"Y/n… Are you still there?" Heeseung called out.

"Hee, hi, yes I am"

"Yeah, you guys are totally drunk" he laughed.

"What? What do you mean?" you asked after drinking a crazy concoction that Byeol made. Projecting a quick grimace as you listened intently on the other end of the line.

"You called me Hee without any effort" he hummed victoriously "So if I talk about our marriage now, would you accept?"

"Yes" you replied. And it was Heeseung's turn to pause briefly before continuing.

"Okay, you guys are completely drunk. We'll be right there" and then he hung up.

From your drunken state, you didn't even notice Heeseung's nervous, flustered tone. Never had you called him by that nickname. And never, under no circumstances, had you accepted his offer to marry you. In all these years. Either you were very drunk indeed, or your thoughts of that offer were beginning to be considered deep in the back of your mind. And in your current state, you didn't even know what was actually true.

You and Byeol sat on the couch in Sunghoon's apartment, each at one end while the boys divided themselves up around the room. The three youngest in the group had said goodbye to you when they picked you up at the bar later that night. Byeol still tried to drag Niki to stay, so that he could save himself some of the lectures the older ones would probably give. But he couldn't. Niki had a faculty exam as did Jungwon and Sunoo, so they just said goodbye before Heeseung drove them home to meet all of you at Sunghoon's apartment.

"I didn't think you guys were going to drink that much" Jay was serious, not in his usual way because Byeol couldn't look at him straight. Maybe out of shame of his state, since he and the boys had gone out too, but they were nothing like you and her.

"Look, we can defend ourselves," you began, seeing that Byeol wouldn't say much in his current state.

The boys let you continue, nodding one at a time until Heeseung stared at you, as if trying to pass on the confidence you needed to continue.

"The girls arrived shortly after Sunghoon left" Byeol finally looked at you. Her head bobbing up and down as he agreed with your sentence "It would be rude of the bride, at her own farewell, to deny any drinks."

"That is true" Byeol said "Did you deny something your friends offered you?" she finally looked at Jay.

He then stared at his three best friends, Jake's laughter in the background as his fiancé's state started to get awkward and speechless. Jay didn't know what to say.

"Maybe they both have a great point in this" Jake held Jay's shoulders in the process.

"See that, I always liked you a lot better, Jake" Byeol celebrated.

"Hey!" Sunghoon, Heeseung and Jay said at the same time, causing everyone in attendance to laugh.

"Okay, since you guys worked it out" Heeseung stood up and walked around the room, stopping next to Sunghoon this time "How about we go home?"

"Can you give me a ride?" Jake smiled at his friend as soon as he got out of Jay's grip.

Being there at Sunghoon's apartment was the closest to the bar that Byeol had chosen for her party, so going there just to get some fresh air and chat before leaving seemed like a good idea. Of course, now his best friend had the need to be alone, take a long shower, and fall into bed. Jay's farewell had been lively and he even felt his stomach hurt from all the laughter he shared with the boys throughout the night.

"See you all in a few days" Sunghoon hugged you and then Byeol "The last preparations until Byeol puts up with Jay forever…"

"My God, you are terrible" Jake laughed when Jay threatened to slap him, but backed off because his hands had been caught by Byeol at that moment.

"Hey, why are you standing there?" your voice came out without thinking, looking at Heeseung who had been the only one not moving in that room. Everyone was already near the door to leave.

"Because Sunghoon didn't hug me too, and I demand that before I drive home."

"Really?" you laughed along with Jake. And Sunghoon really had to hug you because he wouldn't get out of there without teasing his friend and leaving.

Meanwhile, the walk to the car had not been uncomfortable because Jake kept you both company. He chatted with Heeseung all the time while sitting in the back seat, but leaning towards the middle of the driver's seat - where Heeseung was driving - and the passenger seat that you occupied. They were completely random subjects because Jake had this power, he liked to talk and you, in your normal state already talked a lot, drunk so you gave him even more subject so that the whole way was one long comforting chatter.

"And this is where I'm staying" Jake waved to both of you, squeezing your shoulder and Heeseung's in an affectionate way of greeting you as he got out and said goodbye. You and he waved before the boy drove back after Jake entered the house.

"Will you drive me home?" your question came out low after it was just you and Heeseung in the car. The U-turn he took on a familiar street indicating that he was, yes, taking the road to your house.

"Sure" he replied sarcastically "Or do you think I'm going to leave you here alone to get going?"

"Idiot" you grumbled next, choosing not to say anything else the whole way. Not least because your apartment wasn't that far from Jake's when you were driving. So it wasn't a long time in silence until Heeseung parked in front of your building.

"Okay, safe and sound" he turned off the car engine and picked up his cell phone. Typing a few things and quickly exiting the vehicle to make the turn. You stood there, waiting - not knowing why - until he opened the door next to you.

"What—"

"I was seeing if Jay and Byeol arrived safely" he put his cell phone away in his pocket "And now I'm taking you to the door of your apartment."

Strangely his smile made your heart beat more than usual. You mentally thanked yourself that any and every blush on your face had the drink as an excuse, and not Lee Heeseung's damn smile.

"I think I can make it on my own…" your sentence was interrupted by his laugh, causing you to frown in response, but still unbuckle your seat belt to get out of the car.

"You? Find your apartment alone?" Heeseung denied with a nod, braking the car and putting his hand on your back to guide you. The small, minimal physical contact making your whole body shiver. Maybe it's the cold in the city, you thought. But it wasn't even cold… what the fuck did you want to invent, anyway?

"What's the matter? You think I can't?" you asked.

"Well…" he shrugged, walking with you into the building "Last time you got drunk, you called Sunghoon because you pressed third floor and couldn't find your apartment at all" he let out a chuckle. His free hand pressing the button to call the elevator "And I remember you live on the fourth floor, it's not that hard, y/n" Heeseung wasn't whispering, but from the proximity you could hear the intonation of his voice a little lower.

And still carrying that fucking smile on his face.

You resolved that you wouldn't say anything else for the rest of the way - and because you were intimate enough with that proximity - so you just let the sound of the buttons on each floor of the elevator be the only sound in the room.

As soon as the elevator stopped at your floor, you got out first and Heeseung still behind, this time his hand no longer holding your back and you felt a huge void where his fingers had last touched.

Stop being ridiculous, y/n. Are you drunk and having these thoughts right away with Heeseung?

You sighed as you stopped right in front of your apartment door.

"Okay" showing his teeth in another smile, now a little warmer, he nodded "Now no risk of getting lost out there."

"Thank you, Hee" you said simply, noticing the wide-eyed look he gave in your direction.

"You… You did…" what the fuck, why was he stuttering?

"What?" you began to feel guilty, thinking you had done something wrong.

"You called me Hee again, and with such naturalness…"

"It's your nickname," you shrugged, trying not to sound affected by how natural you were being around him.

"But you don't even call me that" he joked "The most affection you call me is seductive jerk."

"Which is not a lie" you smiled along with him, Heeseung crossing his arms in front of his own body afraid that his hands would give away his nervousness at the closeness.

"Now I'll leave you alone, you need to rest" he tried to change the subject, forcing his brain to work on something other than the fact that at this very moment your eyes had gone straight to his lips.

He might have had something in his teeth, or you were aiming so hard that you were trying to punch him right there. But no, you just stared restlessly at the spot where Heeseung timidly bit his lips. And it seemed that you had realized that he had noticed your gaze, because you quickly turned away to face his eyes.

"You also need to rest, take a shower, and stop driving around town at this hour. It's getting late" you stuck the key in the lock, unlocking the door.

"Worried about me?" he forced his lips into a pout, you turned around quickly and rolled your eyes.

"What's your problem?"

"None" he winked at you "But I promise to get home safe and sound, nothing will happen to your future husband."

"Ugh" you rolled your eyes again "Don't you ever get tired of that?"

"Never" he celebrated you scowling, taking a few steps towards you to brush his lips against the top of your head "Good night, y/n" Heeseung whispered with his lips still in your hair.

That touch made you close your eyes for a moment. That was literally the closest he had come to you in all these years, it was the only time his mouth had ever touched you - even though he had plans for it to happen in other ways - but Heeseung never crossed any boundaries. And you wanted him to do it now.

Maybe it was too bold and you could even blame the drink afterwards, or blatantly say that you wanted it. So taking advantage that his lips still remained on top of your head, you pulled back far enough to tilt your head up. Heeseung hadn't moved to move away, so it was the perfect moment for you to lift one of your hands to meet his cheek. Your fingertips glided across his skin only to pull his chin toward you and seal your lips in a quick kiss. Leaning your mouth against his, the warmth of both your lips in mere seconds until you pulled away.

"Good night, Heeseung" you whispered with your face still close, turning and rushing into your apartment.

You just brushed your mouth against his, not going into the depths of that kiss at all. It was something simple, a kiss that anyone could receive. But why had it caused Heeseung to remain motionless in your hallway? Without feeling his legs, much less knowing how to react afterwards? You had finally kissed him, and never in his life had Heeseung thought that you would take the initiative.

Heeseung took a deep breath, trying not to let any tears fall as he held the glass firmly in his hands.

"Hyung, are you okay?" Sunoo asked genuinely concerned, while Niki held herself to keep from laughing.

"Yeah, it's just… Byeol is getting married, my older sister…"

"And he's all sentimental, so he wants to cry" Jake joked.

"What?" he shouted in amazement "I don't cry!"

"For nothing?" Sunoo asked again, Heeseung agreeing with a quick nod before clearing his throat to really not be a hypocrite at his own sister's wedding.

"Oh, I think y/n is flirting with a guy at the bar" Sunghoon came over to the table with a few glasses of drink, setting them down there. At the same moment Heeseung turned with all speed towards the direction of the bar, only to find an old couple - probably some relative of Jay's - but no y/n there.

Sunghoon, Jake and Sunoo fell into laughter.

"That wouldn't make you cry, but it sure as hell almost knocked over our drinks" Jake picked up his glass and raised it with his other friends in a quick toast that Heeseung also participated in.

"We found you guys" Jungwon came over to the table with Jay in his wake, both holding their glasses as well "What did we miss?"

"Heeseung almost crying" Jake spoke after taking another sip of his drink.

"Heeseung believing y/n was flirting with someone" Sunoo added.

"Heeseung almost killing you all" he said quickly, rolling his eyes before standing up.

"Come on hyung, I think you're a little nervous today" Jungwon said softly, trying to keep a tender smile on his lips.

"Actually since—"

"Don't you dare" the boy faced Sunghoon with his eyes glaring in his friend's direction.

Yes, he had told him about the kissing episode at his apartment door. Also, it was a subject he needed to shout out to his friends while they were trying on suits for Jay's wedding. Something had to be the subject, and this was a topic they all followed early on.

The boys were trying to encourage him to talk to you, after all, it was a kiss. You really kissed him even if it was only for a few seconds. But Heeseung thought you would barely remember because you had alcohol in your system still, even if you weren't completely drunk.

"You know that y/n, of all of us, is the one who remembers things the most when she ingests any drop of alcohol, right?" the phrase from Sunghoon echoed through Heeseung's mind all week until the present moment. And he knew it was true because you barely looked at him at the wedding. Your gazes would cross and you would quickly look away. When it came time to intertwine your arms in his as best man, Heeseung swore that you were trembling under his touch. Or he was trembling more than you, the boy couldn't tell. But you just followed everything as planned until you sat down after the ceremony. He had to drink something or he would go crazy.

"I think you have to go talk to her" Jay loosened his tie after long minutes of dancing, greeting the guests and thanking them for every congratulations he received. Heeseung let his eyes roll around the party only to land on you again. Now you were smiling and saying some compliment to Byeol and his amazing hairdo.

"Why?" he stared at Jay, at which he sighed heavily and waved to the boys who said to go dancing. Sunghoon decided to stay too, he wouldn't pass up a good gossip, even more so involving the relationship - not established, but well known - he and you.

"Because you two finally kissed" Jay spun the empty glass in front of him "And this relationship you and y/n have goes back long before I met your sister…" the other two at the table listened to everything intently as Jay stared at them "It's about time you and her were straightforward enough."

Silence. Only the music and side conversations at the party could be heard. Heeseung snorted.

"That means you're right, Jay" Sunghoon hummed "And he's probably cogitating the idea of getting up and going to talk to her…" Sunghoon seemed to be narrating exactly what was going on in Heeseung's head. Because as soon as he stood up and walked towards them, he looked back one last time to see Sunghoon laughing, Jay raising his thumb in approval and the other boys approaching the table. Probably wondering what had happened for Heeseung to be moving away.

"I just didn't like that nail polish" he heard his sister's voice loud enough as he approached her and the group of friends and bridesmaids "It could have been something more… Sober… Oh, little brother."

All the girls - including you - turned in Heeseung's direction. A few hopeful smiles coming from the girls who always complimented Byeol's little brother.

"Hi" he greeted them shyly, and Byeol looked at him fondly "You look so beautiful" Heeseung couldn't help but compliment his sister, and it made her eyes water at the statement. She quickly moved closer to him to hug him as tightly as she could.

"I love you, you know that, don't you?" Byeol whispered, causing him to close his eyes and hug her a little tighter.

"I love you so much more" Heeseung said soon after.

"Now go, you need to say it before it kills you inside…"

"What?" he whispered still hugging his sister.

"I'm your older sister, Lee Heeseung" she joked as soon as she pulled away enough from the embrace to be able to look him in the eye "I know you like the back of my hand. And I approve of what you are about to do."

Having Byeol's approval meant a lot to him. Even though they lived off of picking on each other, Heeseung never stopped being protective and listening to what his sister had to say. So hearing this from her seemed to give him even more courage.

After the little hug between the brothers, it seemed that the conversation between the girls was no longer focused on staring at their younger brother Lee. So this helped Heeseung to approach you without anyone staring at him for too long.

"We… Can we talk? In private" he called to you with a quick tap on your shoulder. Your eyes quickly landed on his and then you agreed, nodding and smiling at Heeseung.

He walked ahead of you, afraid that you would see his nervous expression and the bites on his lips that indicated that he might almost faint right in front of you. On the other hand, you felt the palms of your hands sweat and your legs almost wobble, but you pulled yourself together and followed him outside the party where there was no one.

"Is everything okay, because you're starting to make me worried" you said trying to break the silence that had settled since he had called you. Heeseung finally turned toward you and you could have sworn it was your turn to almost faint. He looked incredibly gorgeous, which was nothing new, but the serious look and his countenance contrasting with his perfectly lined hair made an almost inaudible sigh leave your lips.

"You know y/n, I want to know if you remember… If you… Well…" why did he feel like an idiot who couldn't form a single complete sentence? This intensifying after you let out a low chuckle immediately afterwards.

"Of course I remember kissing you" you said bluntly. Maybe the conversation with Byeol about your feelings starting to make sense for Heeseung, and her and Jay opening your eyes about how you could finally let it roll.

"Really? I mean—" he straightened his tone a little trying not to sound so excited because you remembered kissing him that night "You really wanted to do that?"

"Yes—" remember Jay's words, always be honest. You are an adult and to keep circling that conversation would only postpone what you no longer wanted. Spending years denying the requests - even jokingly - that he made, only brought you ruin because now you wouldn't stop thinking about him.

"Then do it again."

"What?" you widened your eyes. Being direct and honest was your part of the conversation, you just didn't count on Heeseung being much more like that than yourself.

"You heard me, y/n" he took a few steps in front of you, in a bold act to lift his hand and place it on your waist, pulling your body towards him "But kiss me decently this time, please."

What the fuck was the effect Heeseung had on you? Because with that simple sentence you couldn't say anything else, just close your eyes and feel his breath beat against your nose. Your hands went up to his neck and the moment Heeseung's lips touched yours, you finally had time to give way for his tongue to touch yours. Perhaps it was this decency of kiss that he was asking for. Tongues entwining each other as his lips pressed against yours slowly, in a synchrony surreal compared to the speed both of your hearts were beating. The whispers between the kiss contrasting with her nails on the back of his neck made Heeseung tighten his fingers around her waist and, consequently, press her body against his. Now that kiss was decent. Now that could be called a real kiss.

As the two of you clamored for some air, he decided to nibble your bottom lip to finally finish kissing you, but without disconnecting his forehead from yours so that their breathing calmed down a bit.

"I think… I think we can do this more often" he whispered still panting. You laughed low, sealing his lips once again as a silent response that you agreed with him in a long time.

"I found you two" Sunghoon said loudly.

"Oh my God" Jake shouted after seeing you and Heeseung still hugging, your lips both reddened from the fresh kiss as he didn't want to let go of you. But you pulled away enough to face the two of you who were in shock looking at you and him.

"What do you two want?" Heeseung asked, pretending to be angry at being interrupted.

"Byeol is going to throw the bouquet now" Jake said all too loudly, excited enough to finally see you and Heeseung together.

He then looked at you next, a smile making its way onto his newly kissed lips. Heeseung's perfectly aligned, white teeth right before your eyes.

"Will you take it to finally accept my request?" he looked hopefully at you.

"When will you give up?" you asked him.

"After this kiss and all the ones we're going to have for the rest of our lives?" he asked back, seeing that Jake had already come screaming into the party that you and Heeseung kissed. Sunghoon ran after, probably announcing that he had won the bet with Niki "I don't think I'll ever give that up."

You walked into the party, but you chose to stand a little further away and not pick up the bouquet, entwining your fingers in Heeseung's when you saw him slightly disappointed in that.

"You know what?" you said, and he hummed and looked in your direction, not caring who had picked up the bouquet at that moment. His eyes were far more inviting than that "I don't want to marry Byeol's bouquet."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I want you to choose them, after all, I find it much more romantic to marry your favorite flowers. Don't you?"

A glimpse of Heeseung's bright gaze, his smile widening even further and making even his jaw hurt. In all his life he would never have believed that you would actually consider his idea of getting married.

Even if it started as a teenage joke, he also didn't know that he woulddevelop feelings for you over the years. He didn't know that you would match him with it. Much less did he know that you would be kissing him at his sister's wedding, holding hands, and contemplating the idea of - finally - marrying him.

#heeseung fluff #heeseung au #enhypen au #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen heeseung #enhypen scenarios #enhypen masterlist #heeseung fanfics #bay writes.

766 notes · View notes

ilguna · 9 months

Note

If you are willing to do another haymitch could I please get #6 from list one? Thank you

☼ beneath the surface (Haymitch Abernathy) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, drinking mention, haymitch gets a concussion.

wc; 3.3k

prompt; 6. to outsiders, it looks like they don't get along at all.

notes; there's a 14 year age gap...

There is nothing more sickening than watching the roped-off section at the front of the stage begin to fill with young faces. Each year, you promise yourself that you’re going to show up a little later to the reaping to avoid the unavoidable nausea, but the restlessness gets the better of you.

So, you always get the displeasure of sitting on the stage and seeing every face, wondering which two will be the unlucky chosen ones. You used to be one of them almost ten years ago. You were just a face in the crowd of hundreds in the eighteen-year-old section in District Twelve.

You see a reflection of yourself in the older kids the most. The fleeting innocence, the fear, the determination, the hope that you’ll make it through one more year. All for it to be crushed in the span of thirty minutes.

The odds should’ve been in your favor—you never put your name in more times in exchange for Tessera. Which means that in a glass bowl that contained thousands of paper slips, only seven of them had your name written across them in clean handwriting. And still, you were picked.

The terror that took over your body in that moment still frequently returns itself to you. As your life flashed before your eyes, you remembered the amount of Career wins in recent years. And all the District Twelve tributes that never made it to the final ten. How this was going to be your fate in a short week.

Fortunately, it wasn’t. By some miracle, you managed to break a curse on District Twelve that had lasted fifteen years. The same curse that had a fifty year run before Haymitch Abernathy won the Quarter Quell. Not that it matters, because it’s beginning to build up again, anyway.

It’s nothing that you can help.

Which sounds awful, and you’re acutely aware of that, but you’ve tried every trick in the book. You’ve taken advice from other mentors, you’ve listened to Haymitch’s experience, you’ve used ideas that come to you in the middle of the night. The truth is that District Twelve is doomed.

It’s hard being a mentor, knowing that your efforts don’t really make a difference in your tribute’s survival unless they’re willing to try. It’s so rare to come across them. The tributes nowadays default to the idea that they’re going to die, which isn’t necessarily true.

Of course, they were born in this black vortex, but they can crawl out of it. It’s been done twice, by Haymitch and then by you. When you try to explain to them exactly what they have to do, they realize how much energy it’ll take. And because you don’t sugarcoat the fact that they probably won’t even catch the attention of the Capitol despite your steps, they don’t bother to continue.

It’s like they want the attention, the sponsors, the good scores and the alliances handed to them on a platter. Which is such a ridiculous concept, because when has a single person from District Twelve ever been handed those opportunities? You can’t figure out where they got this fantasy from.

Regardless, it always ends up going the same way. They let the Capitol week play out the same way it has for years, ultimately screwing them over. They put in no effort for the Tribute Parade, they don’t bother with the Training Center, and they end with low scores. It’s always by then where they come to their senses, because there’s a day before the interview, where there’s one-on-one coaching.

Due to you asking questions on their angle, their plan, what they’re willing to reveal to Caesar and the Capitol, it gets the gears turning. They realize that they’ve made a mistake, and they rely on you to fix it, but it’s always too late. You can’t come back from just a single interview.

As much as you try to help the tributes that come through, you’ve begun to slack. In the past, you jumped on them as soon as they got on the train. It was the best way to maximize their time with you, getting them a head-start, preparing them for what’s to come. Now, you observe them, and come to your own conclusions on whether or not they’ll listen to what you have to say.

Recently, you’ve been calling it the Haymitch spiral. This is exactly how he must’ve felt for the first few beginning years of mentoring, until the shine wore off and he realized that this is a rigged game. You were lucky enough to get him while he was still semi-sober, and your win even set him back on track for a couple more years.

It didn’t last long, though. He was gone by the time the Sixty-Seventh Hunger Games came around. For the first time, you were on your own to figure things out. The tributes made it farther than you thought they would under your guidance, and when you remarked to Haymitch that with his help, they could’ve made it, he brushed you off.

A part of you despises him for this, for throwing away every tribute that comes in his direction. For rubbing it in your face afterward because you tried to make a difference. It takes everything in you not to shove it all back onto him sometimes. All you’d have to say is, “No wonder we’ve lost dozens of teenagers, they had you to help them.”

You know that if you did ever say that, then he’d shut down. Which you can’t afford him to do. There's moments of clarity where he’ll help, telling the tributes factors that you didn’t even think of. But these times are so few and far between that they hold practically no worth.

As much as you’ve learned to love and appreciate Haymitch, you truly hope that you never end up like him. That you lose so much hope and self-control that you end up with a drinking problem and blurry memories for the rest of your life. It’s your worst nightmare.

As the time nears two o’clock, the flow of teenagers go from a slow trickle to a steady flow. They shuffle into their designated areas, choosing the spots where they’ll be hidden the most from the cameras. From the prying eyes of the Capitol.

You reach up to brush a dribble of sweat from your forehead. If there’s one day out of the year that you can count on being uncomfortable, it’s reaping day. The dry heat has been particularly torturous this year. It makes you look forward to being on the train, at least it’s air conditioned.

As if activated by your movement, Effie Trinket leans in your direction, the gentle pink curls of her wig tickling the side of your face, so that she can whisper without alerting Mayor Undersee. “Where is Haymitch?”

Your face twists, moving away from her to get some space between you, allowing you to see the look on her face, which has been painted white this afternoon. You scratch your skin to make the feeling go away.

“He couldn’t even pull himself out of bed this morning. I just left him there.” You whisper, eyes sliding away, to the crowded streets, wondering if you’ll be able to spot him. “He managed to leave the neighborhood at the same time I did, if I had to guess…” You trail off, looking in the direction of the Hob, where the white liquor is sold for cheap.

“Again?” She asks incredulously, as if the idea is outrageous when you’re talking about Haymitch. It’s not the first time that he’s shown up to the reaping drunk, but if he doesn’t come soon, he’ll be late. Which will be a first for him. “You need to find him.”

You shrug. “And do what, Effie?” You look at Mayor Undersee, “Excuse me, what time is it?”

He raises his eyebrows, flipping up his wrist to look at the watch. His eyebrows draw in, “I’d say five minutes to two.”

Effie’s eyes have widened. “We’ll get in trouble, (Y/n).”

“It’s not like I can get up and look for him.” You throw your hands up, they slap the top of your knees when they land.

Effie presses her lips together, unhappy with your indifference. Neither of you speak for the remaining five minutes, which you spend hoping that Haymitch will appear out of thin air. When the clock strikes two, Mayor Undersee gets to his feet, heading for the podium. He can’t wait for Haymitch.

He begins to read the history of Panem, which is done every year at the reaping. He talks about the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, and the seas that claimed hundreds of miles of land. A war was fought to claim what was left of it, with the result being Panem.

A Capitol surrounded by thirteen districts, that was supposed to bring peace and prosperity to its residents. It was gone when the Dark Days came, the districts rebelling against the Capitol. Out of the thirteen districts, only twelve survived. The Treaty of Treason was written up to guarantee peace, the Hunger Games being part of the new law.

“It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks.” Mayor Undersee says. “District Twelve has had three victors in its time of existence. An unknown woman, Haymitch Abernathy, and (Y/n) (L/n).”

A voice shouts something slurred and unintelligible. You glance over to see if the Peacekeepers are reacting, when you find that it’s Haymitch, struggling to get up the stairs safely. You sit up in your seat, watching as he stumbles across the stage, drunk.

The crowd applauds like they’re supposed to after the announcement of the victors. A sloppy smile crosses Haymitch’s face, as he falls into the empty chair beside you. The smell of liquor burns your nose, making your face twist as you go to look away.

Haymitch reaches over, a hand on your cheek as he directs his face to yours. You place your hand over his mouth, shaking your head, disturbed. “Will you pull yourself together?”

“May I introduce District Twelve’s wonderful Capitol escort, Effie Trinket?” The mayor asks, trying to save the moment.

Effie gets to her feet, straightening out her spring green suit. She heads for the podium, while Mayor Undersee comes back to the row of chairs with wide eyes in your direction. As if he’s asking for you to get a handle of Haymitch. You’re not his babysitter—you’re hardly even his girlfriend. He’s a grown man, he doesn’t want to listen to you.

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!” Effie bubbles, tilting her head.

You should be past the point of fixing Haymitch’s behavior, especially since what you say goes in one ear and out the other. This might be your breaking point, with him showing up late and drunk and then embarrassing you. It’s fine if he doesn’t want to be taken seriously with the Capitol, but you’re still trying to be a good mentor.

“It is such an honor to be here today.” She says, placing a white-gloved hand over her chest, as if she’s being sincere. “It’s always such a pleasure being here in District Twelve, seeing all of your lovely faces.” She takes in a breath. “Ladies first!”

She crosses the stage to go to the glass ball with the girls’ names. She stops in front of it, reaching inside, digging her hand deep into the thousands of slips of paper. She pulls one out from the bottom, making her way back to the podium.

The square has fallen completely silent. She opens the piece of paper, reads it to herself silently, before looking up to the teenagers that are presented in front of her.

“Primrose Everdeen.”

A girl materializes out of the twelve-year-old section at the very back. You sigh, sinking in your chair. The crowd gathered around begins to talk amongst themselves happily, which is common when a tribute so young is picked. No one thinks it’s fair, not even the ones that illegally bet.

Primrose is pale, hands clenched in fists at her sides, taking small steps toward the stage. She makes it past the sixteen section, before there’s an objection. “Prim!” A cry cuts through the silence. “Prim!”

You watch as an older girl makes her way through the crowd, as the teenagers part to let her free. Primrose is just reaching the first step when the older one moves her away. “I volunteer!” She gasps. “I volunteer as tribute!”

You sit upright in your chair again, looking at Mayor Undersee. He’s got a deep crease between his eyebrows, eyes slightly squinted, staring ahead, thinking. District Twelve never gets volunteers, it’s likely been decades since it last happened. In other districts, teenagers fight to be the tributes that year.

“Lovely!” Effie chirps. “But I believe there’s a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…” She’s lost confidence in herself.

“What does it matter?” The mayor says, face grave. “What does it matter? Let her come forward.”

Primrose is beginning to scream, latching onto the volunteer. “No, Katniss! No! You can’t go!”

“Prim, let go.” Katniss says harshly, trying to pry Primrose’s arms off. “Let go!”

A male slips out of the eighteen section, coming for the both of them. He grabs onto Primrose, pulling her into his arms, where she begins to trash violently. He says something to Katniss, before walking to the end of the aisle, where a crying mother has a hand over her mouth.

“Well, bravo!” Effie gushes. “That’s the spirit of the Games! What’s your name?”

Katniss has made it onto the stage. “Katniss Everdeen.”

“I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don’t want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!”

Silence.

As no one claps, no one moves. This is typical, what you’d expect from your home district. If people were to listen to Effie and applaud, then that means they approve of what is happening here. Which is far from what they believe.

It’s like this for several seconds, before you see the movement. It’s just one person at first, and then it ripples across the square. As your people press the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips before raising it in the air. A gesture that is rarely used, primarily seen at funerals.

It’s a thanks, it’s a sign of admiration, and it means goodbye to someone that you loved.

Haymitch has risen from his seat, you swipe at his hand to pull him back into his seat, but he’s surprisingly agile. He makes it across the stage, where he throws an arm around Katniss’s shoulder. “Look at her. Look at this one!” He shouts. “I like her!” He stares, “Lots of…” He tilts his head back, as if looking to the clouds for inspiration. “Spunk!” He suddenly says. “More than you!” He moves toward the edge of the stage. You almost get to your feet, because that’s a bad idea for the state he’s in, but you refuse to be dragged down, too. “More than you!” He points directly into the camera.

He doesn’t realize that the stage ends, you know this because he walks right off the front of it. You bury your face in your hands, shaking your head. By the time you lift it, they’ve taken him away on a stretcher, clearly unconscious.

“What an exciting day!” Effie’s voice is wavering. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our boy tribute!” She quickly moves to the boy bowl, where she plucks the top slip out, hurrying back to the podium. She opens the paper, not stopping to read this time. “Peeta Mellark.”

A boy from the sixteen area comes out. A competitor, you think, but you’ve thought the same in the past. You watch as he comes to stand on the other side of Effie. She asks for volunteers, but when none steps forward, Effie and Mayor Undersee trade places again. He begins to read the Treaty of Treason, but you’re leaning over to speak to Effie.

“Are they going to take Haymitch to the train?”

“I believe so.” She places her hands on her knees. “They’ll probably dispose of him in his bed.”

“Dispose.” You echo.

When Mayor Undersee finishes his speech, he motions for Peeta and Katniss to shake hands. When they’re done, the anthem of Panem plays in full. Then, they’re taken through the front of the Justice Building by the Peacekeepers. You get up from where you’d been sitting.

Mayor Undersee comes to join you and Effie, where he places a hand on your shoulder. “He’s likely inside of the building in the far back.”

“Of the Justice Building?” You ask, looking at Effie. “They didn’t just take him to the train?”

“We don’t have the cars to spare. We have one for you and him, and then we have the separate one for Effie and the tributes.”

“Right.” You smooth out your pants. “Will you bring us to him?”

Mayor Undersee nods, heading inside of the Justice Building. You glance back at the front of the stage to see that the crowd is slowly dispersing, the Peacekeepers shut the doors a moment later. You’re brought all the way to the back, where the mayor leaves you to figure it out.

You open the door, stepping inside, finding Haymitch sitting upright on a bed. Usually the ones the school nurse provided in her office for when you felt sick. His face is twisted, touching a tender spot on the side of his head.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You cross your arms. “What was going through your head to think that it was okay to show up drunk?”

“I lost track of time.” Haymitch says.

“I don’t care that you were late! You were drunk on stage! This is a televised event, Haymitch.”

“I know that.”

You shake your head. “Then you should know that this will not be happening again. You’re done drinking.”

He scoffs. “Am I? Who’s going to stop me?”

“Me!” You shout. “Did you even see what happened out there? We have a volunteer that must mean something to the people here. And a boy that looks like he could maybe come from District Two.”

“Wow.” Haymitch mutters, he’s still drunk.

“You will not be doing this in the Capitol. I will not let you be this way in the Capitol, I want you to actually mentor, not your shotty half-ass work. We have a real shot.”

“We have a real shot.” He mocks your voice. “You call my mentoring shotty and half-assed when you can’t even give them sound advice. You’re too worried about how you look for the cameras. I have my head screwed on straight.”

“Are you seriously calling me Capitol-obsessed right now?” Your voice drops.

Haymitch squints at you, possibly realizing his mistake. And then he opens his mouth, “Well you are, aren’t you?”

The room is tense, Effie clears her throat. “Maybe you two shouldn’t be together if you don’t like each other.” She says quietly.

“No, I like Haymitch.” You scoff, waving your hand. “In fact, I love him.” Haymitch blinks in surprise. “But I would equally love the idea of him being sober for once in the Capitol. It’s not easy for all of us, you know. You think I like sitting through this every year while you get to have a drink?”

Haymitch sighs, head hanging slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m tired of the apologies, too. Unless you’re going to do something to fix it, don’t bother.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

242 notes · View notes

hana-no-seiiki · 7 months

Text

might be running a little late on the spiderverse post (and by little i mean it’ll prolly be posted this weekend instead when all of us are free) cause i got assigned a task for skewl last minute 😭😭😭😭 so ill just give you guys this short fic/drabble w/ Cat Villain Reader for now that has been rotting in drafts for a bit.

please read my previous cat villain posts for more context !!

If you were to give a rank of the most punchable face in the Batfam, it’d be Damian. No surprise there in hindsight, but the fact that he managed to beat his own dad — the one that left your one true love to die — still astounded you.

Despite his reputation and the fact above, Damian had more calm moments with you than any of his predecessors. It may have been due to other factors; you being older and more mature (less of a brat), that you didn’t hate his guts, or that he wasn’t a masochist like Tim.

But the biggest reason was Talia.

You don’t get how the woman fell for Bruce but she did, and you knew she would do anything for him. You’ve fought her before and she was no joke.

And, she was the only person who helped you with Jason. Who didn’t scoff at your violent reaction towards his death. Who actually understood you, rather than ply you with words of comfort.

So, of course, you were a lot more gentle when it came to her son. Even during his more verbally abusive phase.

Recently however, you’ve noticed a change.

“What?” Damian glared at you (I say as if he looks at you in any other way other than glaring)

“Nothing.” You looked away, your mouth forming a pout. Damn him for having great observational skills even through both of your masks and while you guys were in the middle of a fight.

“Were you just staring at my arms?”

“No!” You shouted in offence. “. . . Yes.”

But how dare of him to be right anyways! It wasn’t your fault his new fit looked tighter on his toned biceps.

In any case, that’s where the change really started to be obvious. Usually after that he’d knock you out or screech curses, but now… now he’d —

“Keep looking. You’re easier to catch when distracted.”

You immediately felt your knees go weak.

The nicknames, too. Good god the nicknames. Some of them were still as degrading as ever, but you also noticed a sudden rise of sweeter ones, some in his mother tongue, others just plain corny.

“Hey Kitty, get your food elsewhere.” Damian greeted you from behind.

Damian never greeted you.

Your fights and/or meet-ups always started with a little roughhousing.

Which, as of the moment, was not happening just yet. Not to mention he didn’t even take advantage of your surprised state.

And so you turn invisible.

Ever the sharp eyed man that he was, he quickly spotted you from the sound of your movements. Yet he doesn’t attack. In the blink of an eye, he appeared right behind you, seizing your arms and whispered, “Did that make you purr?”

You licked him in response. Safe to say that you were smacked down afterwards.

You were starting to think that Damian liked you.

Of course, even though you were confident to a fault, you weren’t conceited. So in order to test that theory, you managed to switch your heists up for when he wasn’t on duty.

And from what you hear from Tim, he hasn’t been doing so great.

So terrible his days have been in fact that he had been sloppy enough to get caught. While the rest of his team was busy fighting you took the opportunity to sneak in. A favour for Talia’s help, you thought.

“Fool! What are you—“ Damian shouted at you. The villain they were fighting was no joke. If you had gotten caught —

His sermon gets interrupted by a kiss from you to the lips. You even shove your tongue down his throat for good measure.

You separate from him after a few minutes.

You think from the fact that he pulls you back in and kisses you as his friends were screaming in the background made it clear that he more than just liked you.

Maybe even loved you…

— to be continued

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere core #yandere batfam #yandere damian wayne #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #yandere damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #robin #robin x you #batfam #dc #yandere batfam x reader #batfam x reader #dc x reader

268 notes · View notes

cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

Text

Case of the Ex: Part I

Summary: Just as you decide to explore your feelings for Ari, an unexpected blast from your past sends you reeling...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Ex-boyfriends, Discussions of Weight, Discussions of Body Image, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Brief Discussions of Race, Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me brainstorm. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“So do you trust me now, Mr. Carmichael?” You tease as you carefully place several books into your customer’s reusable shopping bag while you wait on the receipt to print. “Because the way I see it, I haven’t steered you wrong yet.”

“Here we go.” The older man grumbles, playfulling rolling his eyes as you punch in the last few numbers to complete the transaction.

“My recommendation track record speaks for itself.” You can’t help but laugh at the look he gives you. As if you two didn’t have the same conversation at least once a month. “I just want you to give me my props.”

“Arrogance isn’t a good look on you, young lady.”

“Who said anything about arrogance?” Your eyes go comically wide as you lean into the theatrics by pretending to look around your shop. “Certainly not me. I’m just a small business owner, standing in front of the best retired florist in all of Bell’s Creek, humbly requesting that he finally give me my flippin’ flowers.”

Mr. Carmichael heaves a weary sigh. “Fine, fine. You were right.” He steps back from the counter to give a dramatic bow. “Jean Hanff Korelitz’s Jacob Bonner was strong enough to rival Stephen King’s own Mort Rainey and Thad Beaumont. Your literary tastes reign superior once again.”

“And there it is.” You rip the receipt from the printer and drop it into the bag before handing it over so that you can rest your elbows on the counter. “Now was that really that bad? It’s not like I asked for one of your Sapphire Sweetheart bouquets, after all.”

“That entire moment was so positively excruciating I almost didn’t live through it.” He keeps his tone light as he slings the bag over his shoulder. “Anyway, same time next month?”

“Can’t wait.” You respond with a wink and a wave. “Wouldn’t miss it. And please give Millie my love.”

“Will do!” He calls behind him as he heads out the door.

Once he’s gone you decide to stand up and stretch, raising your arms over your head. You’re not satisfied until you hear the sound of your spine popping. And then you up the ante, twisting your body from side to side before bending down and touching your toes.

You hold the position for a moment, content to let yourself dangle until you hear the chime of the front door, signaling the arrival of another customer. Which was great news for you, especially since business had been kind of slow this morning.

“Welcome to Baubles & Quills!” You chirp as you quickly right yourself. “How can I he–” The words die on your lips when you get a good look at the person standing just inside the doorway.

“Hiya, Cupcake.”

It’s a nickname you haven’t heard in years. And it had only ever been used by one man. The same one who had broken your heart and left a wound so deep you’d been almost convinced that it would never heal.

And yet there he was. Standing right there in your shop. Somehow even more handsome than you remembered.

Mason J. Prescott.

The seconds tick by, turning into minutes as a loaded silence washes over you both. Whatever you’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. A visit from your ex-boyfriend had not been on today’s bingo card.

Grinning, Mason closes the gap between you. His long, denim clad legs covering the distance in a few easy strides. Once he’s in front of you he removes his Stetson pinchfront and sits it on the counter before taking the opportunity to run his fingers through his thick black locks.

“Damn if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.” Still grinning, his gray eyes give you a thorough onceover. It’s a blatant, slow moving perusal that lets you know he likes what he sees. “I swear they don’t make girls as pretty as you out in Brickfield. Must be something in the water.”

“Uh…hi.” You stammer as shock continues to course its way through you.

“You lookin’ to catch some flies there, Cupcake?”

Shit. That meant you were staring. Probably with your mouth open. It was an old bad habit that, up until today, you could’ve sworn you had licked.

“Sorry.” You cough, forcing your brain to reboot.

“No need to be sorry.” While Mason’s easygoing charm used to calm your nerves, today it seemed to be doing the opposite.

“What brings you..?” You trail off to take a steadying breath. “I didn’t realize you were back in town.”

What the hell was he doing here?

“I just flew in last night. Caught a red-eye home from Buffalo, New York..” He decides to explain further after you flash him a quizzical glance. “Dad had me working on a business deal up there. It was a quick trip with an even quicker turnaround.”

Oh. “Got it.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his five-o’clock shadow. “My, uh, plan had been to fly back out to Brickfield first and then make the drive. But after speaking with my Mama no less than six nerve-racking times in the span of an hour, I figured I’d be better off coming straight here. And I’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel good to be back.” He raps his knuckles on the wood.

“I’m sure they’re all very happy you’re home.” You weren’t really sure what else to say to that, so you kept it simple. Although it still didn’t explain his reason for showing up at what was arguably the equivalent of your doorstep.

“Maybe. Some more than others, I suppose.” His voice drops an octave as he pins you with a knowing look. “Any chance you might be one of those people?”

Your teeth begin to gnaw at your bottom lip as your palms go damp with sweat. Why on earth would he care or not about whether you were happy to see him or not? Especially since you hadn’t spoken in–

“I’ve thought of you damn near every day over the last five years.”

“Mace…” His former nickname comes on the heels of a weary sigh.

“I’m serious, sweets.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

You did not want to do this today. It wasn’t fair or right of him to think he could just pick up and waltz back into your life as if he expected your feelings for him to be the same.

Things had changed since then. You had changed. Everything was different now, starting and ending with you.

“I’ve been thinking…” Now it’s his turn to sigh as he squares his shoulders. “Maybe we made a mistake.”

“Ha!” You let out an unladylike snort, your hand flying to your mouth in an attempt to catch it. “I don’t believe for a second that I’m the reason your Mama pressed you to hussle your ass back to our quaint little town.”

“I came back because I needed to deal with a family matter. But I was thinking about staying because the one that got away also happens to own a shop that’s just down the road from my parent’s ranch.” His sobering admission is enough to send you reeling all over again.

Mason then places his hand atop yours, allowing the slightly roughened pad of his thumb to stroke along the ridge of your knuckles.

“I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning.” You give him your best haughty southern belle impression. “But if you’d like, I can point you in the direction of our Self-Help books. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of helpful literature on learning from your past mistakes. Might I recommend John Purkiss’ bestseller, The Power of Letting Go? I hear it’s a real page turner.”

Your newfound snippiness has your ex-boyfriend rocking back on his heels. He even appears a little stunned. Good.

You weren’t the same meek young woman he’d left behind all those years ago. Something that Mason James Prescott would do well to remember.

“Sheesh, Cupcake.” Your former flame presses a hand over his heart, feigning as if you’d wounded him. “You might’ve shed a few extra pounds when I wasn’t looking, but I see you've also gained a little sass too.”

You fold your arms over your chest as you take a moment to process what feels very much like a backhanded compliment. God’s gift to Bell’s Creek didn’t know it yet, but you were getting dangerously close to kicking his pert ass out of your shop.

As if sensing that he’s made an error, he quickly clears his throat. “All I’m saying is that I recognize that I’m dealing with a new and improved you.” He moves to reach for you again before apparently thinking better of it.

“But forgive me if I have a hard time thinking of you as anything but the doe-eyed freshman who wrote poetry behind the bleachers. That is, when she wasn’t busy taking home top prize at the state fair’s pie baking contest year after year.” Mason offers you his own award winning smile for good measure, highlighting the dimple on his left cheek.

Suddenly, the room feels a little too hot for your comfort. You didn’t like feeling this unsettled. These days the only man who was allowed to get under your skin was your handsome, overbearing bounty hunter.

It was a right that he’d earned, whether you liked it or not. And there were honestly times when you damn well didn’t. But you’d also be lying if you said that you weren’t learning to live with it.

“I could sure go for a slice of your famous brambleberry pie right about now.” Mason keeps his deep voice low and even as he takes a tentative step around the side of your cash register, which is the only thing currently separating the two of you. “But I’d be willing to settle for some cherry pie and a scoop of homemade vanilla bean ice cream over at Holtman’s Diner on West 5th if you’d be open to join me.”

“So I can watch you stuff your face with pie while I nibble on a depressing fruit salad from a can like a sad little rabbit?” You scoff. “Pass.”

Mason huffs out an annoyed breath, his brows drawing together. “You were the one who always complained about shit going to your hips. Meanwhile, I was just doing my part to be supportive. Isn’t that what any good man is supposed to do for his woman?”

Apparently you weren’t the only one experiencing a few ruffled feathers here. Fantastic.

“I’m not sure it’s allowed to fall under the category of being supportive –” you respond, complete with appropriate air quotes “– if you’re also the one constantly pointing it out.”

“We were kids, baby!” His hands fly to his waist so that he’s now standing akimbo. “Just a couple of stupid kids worried about stupid shit like football practice and prom pictures. I felt like I was walking around with the world on my shoulders back then. It wasn’t as easy for me as everybody liked to think.” He shifts his weight, resting his hip against the cashwrap. “Nobody understood the pressures of growing up as a Prescott. Nobody even tried…”

‘Oh yeah?’ Your internal voice all but screams. ‘Try being one of only five black kids in your entire goddamned graduating class. But do you see me crying? Nope.’

At any rate, you didn’t sign up for this month’s Prescott Pity Party. So you were about to politely request that he miss you with that bullshit.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to carry so much alone, Mace. I really am.” You look down at your feet as you try to drum up a way to usher him out the door without touching him. But the next thing you know, he’s suddenly standing directly in front of you.

“Except for you.” He reaches out to clutch at your biceps, his big hands smoothing up and down your bare arms. “You saw past the spoiled little rich kid act when no one else did. And I didn’t appreciate you like I should have.”

Your heart speeds up as you take notice of the way his eyes darken. He’s so close that you can see the light smattering of freckles dotting the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. If memory served, he’d broken it during a heated football game.

One where he claimed an opposing player made several crude comments about your body and choice of skirt. At the time you’d considered him a hero. But now…

Now you saw him for what he was. Another run-of-the-mill Prescott pretty boy. All style and no substance. That was the crux of it.

Right?

“Why are you doing this?” Your question comes out weaker than you’d like, but at least it doesn’t waver.

“Because I want you to have dinner with me tonight. For old times’ sake.” His determined gaze bores into your own as all of the oxygen slowly dissipates from the room. “Please, Cupcake?”

Just then, you hear the chiming of the door, signaling the arrival of yet another customer. Spell broken, you take a fortifying step back – needing to put some distance between you and the town’s golden boy.

“Am I interrupting something?” The sound of a familiar voice has your already volatile emotions spiraling in the complete opposite direction as a sense of relief blooms in your chest.

Saved by the damn bell. Thank the Lord.

“Yeah.” Mason snaps at the same time you throw out a swift “nope”.

“Bird?”

Of course your gruff bounty hunter would defer to you on this one – for which you were grateful. You turn your attention to him, not missing the tick in his chiseled jaw.

Now that you saw them together, Ari appeared to have a good inch in height on your former lover. Aside from that, their builds were pretty similar. Instead it was the glaring difference in their personalities that managed to separate one from the other.

“It’s fine, Ari.”

“Bird?” Mason’s lip curls in an almost sneer as his hands drop to his sides. “Is that what you go by now? It’s…cute.” He tacks on the last part when you respond with a simple shrug.

If you were being honest, you didn’t much care how he felt or not. You just wanted him gone so that you could actually breathe again.

“Ari, huh?” He turns to give your man his full attention as realization finally dawns. “You must be that rent-a-cop my father was telling me about. Said you blew into town looking for Martin Westbrook’s sorry ass.”

“Not quite, pal. But you’re almost there.” Ari spares a bored glance in the direction of his would-be rival. But he doesn’t say anything. You knew without him telling you that he was busy assessing the situation. It was something he had a habit of doing anywhere he went.

Especially when found himself face-to-face with a dick like Mason Prescott.

“Well, you won’t find him here, buddy.” Your ex gives him a dismissive nod. “So why don’t you see yourself out? The lady and I were just in the middle of catching up before you took it upon yourself to interrupt.”

An uncomfortable silence ensues as both men stare each other down, each refusing to blink. The tension grows thicker with each passing moment. And it remains that way until you move to step between them.

“Mace is an old friend who stopped by for a chat.” You tell Ari, jamming your nervous hands in your pockets. “But we were just wrapping up so I could get back to doing inventory.”

It was a lie. And you recognized that Ari was someone who deserved a better, more in-depth explanation than the basic one that you just gave him. But for now it would simply have to do. At least until you got your bearings.

“But what about that pie?” Mason pouts, obviously upset by the prospect of you kicking him out. “Don’t leave me to eat alone, Cupcake.”

“Cupcake? Wow.” Ari scoffs under his breath, not bothering to his disapproval.

“Old friend, old nickname.” You hiss, somehow feeling even more self-conscious than you already did. “Now that we’ve established all that, I think it’s best if you two peaches get a move-on. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.”

Needing some space, you attempt to shoo them out the door. But unfortunately, you might as well have better luck trying to herd a couple of cats. Lucky you.

“What about lunch?” Your man growls. Apparently he didn’t take too kindly to being thrown out either.

“Too busy. Gotta cancel. Sorry you came out all this way, but these books aren’t gonna stock themselves so…” You throw your arms in the air. “It is what it is.”

Instead of accepting his dismissal, Ari takes a step towards you. He doesn’t stop until he’s in front of you, his body eclipsing your smaller frame and effectively blocking you from Mason’s view.

“Did you eat today, baby?” He asks as one big hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, giving you an affectionate squeeze. Some of the stiffness in his shoulders eases when you give him a little nod. “Good. What’d you have?”

“A piece of toast and a hard boiled egg.”

“Alright.” Warmth pools in your belly when your sweet bounty hunter hands over a plastic bag filled with what feels suspiciously like a sandwich and chips. “It’s a grilled chicken caesar wrap. Best they had since you said you don’t like that chipotle spread. Also got you some sea salt and vinegar chips, some cuke and onion salad, and a cookie.”

Christ. This man was simply too good for you. Moments like these only served to remind you that you truly didn’t deserve him.

“Thank you.” You murmur once you finally manage to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“I’m gonna need you to eat every last bite for me.” He tells you, his intoxicating blue eyes dropping to your lips. “So that I can fully enjoy taking a bite out of you later.” Thankfully, he's thoughtful enough to whisper the last bit. Making it clear that it was for your ears only.

“Okay, Ari.”

Nodding, he shifts his attention back to an increasingly annoyed Mason. But while there’s no way he could’ve missed the moment you shared with Ari just now, he chooses to stew in silence. Which is absolutely fine by you.

“Call me when you lock up.” You know that Ari’s words are meant for you even though his focus remains entirely on the other man taking up space in your tiny lobby.

“I’ll see you around, Cupcake.” Mason smiles, but this time you notice that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can’t wait to find out if you’re still as sweet as I remember.” He finishes with a knowing wink.

With that, he turns and strides out of the shop, not even bothering to hold the door for Ari. But your man doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he makes a show of shouldering through it with minimal effort.

As soon as it swings shut you hit the lock and flip the sign. And then you duck in the corner, watching as the two men exchange what you can only assume to be a few choice words right there in your parking lot.

And while you can’t make out what they’re saying, you’re convinced that it’s anything but friendly – what with them being practically nose to nose.

You stay in your spot until Ari and Mason finish their conversation. And it’s only once they’ve climbed in their respective cars and driven away that you finally slink off to the back room to lick your wounds and figure out your next move.

Fuck! You had the sinking feeling that things were about to get complicated fast. Opening the fridge, you toss your lunch inside before slamming it shut so that you can snag a homemade strawberry and cream popsicle from the freezer.

As you sit down, you feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. You fish it out, surprised to see that you’ve got a text from Ari that reads:

“Mace seems like a real stand-up guy.”

“No shit, Beast.” Rolling your eyes, you place the device facedown on a nearby table before nibbling on your sweet and creamy treat. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

END

Unofficial Tag List

@daykrisr99

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

640 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 2 months

Text

I am always on the hunt for my next story as I like to have four or five stories going on at the same (being able to have multiple stories going so that I always have something to post really helps with the anxiety like you wouldn't believe.)

And I think I have found my next one. With everyone doing Olympic stories I thought that I too, would throw my hat in the ring.

Back when I first started writing for Stranger Things (like September of '22 way back) I had this story I was posting on AO3 anonymously. The fear of writing for a fandom I hadn't seen the source material of left me terrified (I still worry about from time to time) had my anxiety going a billion miles an hour.

It was about Steve deciding to coach Eddie on getting on the swim team his final senior year so that teachers would be more lenient on his grades. And in return Eddie would help with Steve's trauma of having Barb die in his pool.

I ended up abandoning the work because the characters all wrong and I just started to hate it. It only had something like 34 kudos and 121 views after six chapters. It was not good.

So I am cannibalizing the plot for my next story.

Bit of an age gap. Eddie 18 and Steve is 24 when they meet but they don't get together until after the Olympics making them 20 and 26 respectively.

Steve was going to be Michael Phelps in world where he doesn't exist (shhhh) He had come in fifth his first Olympics as a fourteen year old. His next Olympics had him winning several medals, so many that the phrases "world record" and "foremost swimmer of his time" were tossed around.

But all that changed when he had an accident in his first match in his third Olympics where the bounding board slipped out from under him as he went to dive into the water, hitting his head and nearly drowning.

Leaving him with migraines and a fear of large bodies of water. So now he teaches swimming to little kids in kiddie pools and for the older ones, he uses an endless pool. But he steers clear of the main pool and if he has to use it, he has his assistant coach Robin get in the water for him. It isn't ideal but it works.

Enter Eddie Munson. Eddie who used to swim in middle school but after his mom died and his dad went to jail, he got sent to live with his uncle, Wayne. But because Wayne was working long hours at the plant Eddie was forced to give it up in high school.

Hopper caught him dealing weed and pulled to have Eddie do community service at the rec center, mopping floors, gather towels for the laundry, refilling soap dispensers.

Eddie didn't mind because it meant that he had free access to the pool any time he wanted.

One day, Steve comes in early because he's getting a new group of nuggets for his swim class when he sees Eddie doing a near flawless butterfly stroke.

They talk and Steve finds out that Eddie just didn't have the same opportunities Steve did otherwise he probably would have been in Steve's last Olympics. The next Olympics are two years away and Steve wants to train Eddie for them.

Eddie turns him down at first until on the last day of his community service and he realizes he'll lose access to the pool. So he decides to let Steve coach him because he figures he'll at least get two free years of pool time and then after he doesn't make it, Steve and him can go their separate ways.

Only not only does Eddie get into the Olympics he starts get gold in his events.

Someone plants weed on his to discredit him when they find out he used to deal with hopes of getting him disqualified but it backfires and the culprit is exposed as the one that sabotaged Steve four years ago.

Then after Eddie wins his fifth gold in his last event, Steve and Eddie kiss about it.

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #olympics #olympic steddie

66 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 4 months

Note

Modern arranged marriage AU. (CW death threats)

Dream is a prince. Not the heir, but he's the prince of THE royal family, and with so many scandals tied to his name, he's got an ultimatum. Either he marries and settles down in privacy somewhere far, far away, or they send him far, far away on a "mission" to "help", and if he happens to die out there, well, the family can be publicly very sad about it.

Hob has joined the army as soon as he possibly could, while he was practically still a boy, due to being an orphan and wanting somewhere to fit in. He's been whisked from one modern war to another for years. He retired from the army at one point when his wife, also from the army, was expecting their second, but we all know what happened to Hob's family. Alone once more, he shamefully returned to the army.

When Hob finally earns a high enough rank and enough medals and rewards to retire for good (it's not like he ever LIKED the army), he earns himself one last medal, given to him by queen Night herself. Night sees a great opportunity in this still quite young (going on his 40's) retiring soldier. She asks him to marry her son and offers a large sum of money and a mansion as a competition. While Hob thinks it's fucked up, he's still a protector and hero at heart and accepts the offer just so the prince doesn't have to marry someone not as kind as him.

You know what? I'm making this omegaverse because I want to. Turns out they are true mates. They find out at the wedding ceremony - Dream goes crazy for Hob's scent (he's been a soldier for so long that he smells like gunpowder, sand, and protection) and Hob almost pops a boner at his own wedding ceremony when he smells Dream (old books, dust, softness). Dream has one last scandal when they pounce on each other in the car right after the ceremony and don't arrive to the reception, but then they are allowed to live in privacy happily ever after.

- 🚒

I do love a true mates story, and this is really absolutely adorable - I love the idea of older, slightly grizzled and world weary alpha!Hob stepping up to protect the younger omega prince.

When Dream was informed that he'd basically been sold off to some old war hero, he despaired - he was imagining some horrid old creep like Lord Burgess. So he's pleasantly surprised at the sight of Hob, who stands nervously in his old ceremonial uniform. He's got lovely brown sun-drenched skin, greying hair, and kindly eyes. Dream’s heart softens even before he catches Hob’s scent - that's when he goes a bit weak at the knees. Dream has had many lovers of all kinds (that's why he's being married off) but he's never felt such an urge building within his body. He might actually be in love, and he hasn't even made eye contact with the man yet.

During the ceremony they touch hands, and Dream has sneakily removed his gloves so that he gets to touch Hob skin-to-skin. He almost moans. Hob’s hands are big and warm and rough, and Dream actually has to hang on tight just in case his legs do actually give out. Hob winks at him cheekily, and squeezes his hand when they walk together back down the aisle.

They do pounce on each other in the car, but not before Dream feels the need to hurriedly come clean about all his shortcomings - how he's not a virgin, he's not sure if he wants children, he's prone to terrible mood swings - of course Hob just smiles and kisses him very softly. He wouldn't mind if Dream was the devil. They're true mates, and Hob is hardly perfect either. He just wants a chance to be happy.

The sex in the car is very good, as demonstrated by the way the vehicle rocks alarmingly back and forth while all the windows steam up. The video clips circulate for days, and honestly? The public are pretty damn thrilled to see Prince Dream and his dilf husband getting their fairytale ending <333

#🚒 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw omegaverse

88 notes · View notes

inbarfink · 2 years

Text

The deaths of all the Finch kids are really so unbearably tragic. It really speaks to the quality of the writing and storytelling in ‘What Remains’. They’re written as so vivid and human and real, but also so many of them died so young. They were children, it’s so much harder for me to do the whole ‘well, let’s appreciate the life they did have’ thing when the majority of them didn’t even have a chance to become the people they could have become. And yet the image of who they could’ve been if they survived is so vivid in my mind.

Edith had that line about how she always imagined Molly as a girl she could be good friends with. Obviously if she didn’t die back in 1947 they wouldn’t really be at the same age group, but she’d be one hell of a Cool Aunt. I can only imagine her Weird Girl tendencies would’ve only grown stronger and stronger with age. Considering her fascination with animals, maybe she would’ve gone to study Zoology or Biology when she grew older? And since she was dissecting a sea star just before her canon death…

Sadly, I’m not sure if Barbara would’ve been able to resurrect her acting career. But there’s some subtle hints in her room that in reality she was more willing to move past it compared to her fictionalized version in that horror comic (which can’t be easy when you live in a room your dad themed entirely around your child-star years THANKS SVEN). That ‘horror convention’ seems to be an invention of the comic, Barbara’s actual room has a flier for a ‘Witch’s Ball’ at Orcas Island High School and a dress ready for it.

Barbara Finch didn’t actually spend her last day on earth hopelessly trying to revive her dead career, she was hoping to have a fun Halloween party like a regular teenager. Maybe the fact that it was hosted by the Orcas Island High School Drama Club implies she still had an interest in acting and theatre. Maybe she could’ve ended up as a classically trained actress with the child-stardom as just a fun quirk of her past? Or maybe she just wanted to take part in the Witches Ball because she likes Spooky Things? And she could have found her way back into the Horror Scene in a different way, like being a writer or costume designer or something?

Maybe Calvin could’ve become an Astronaut like he always wanted? But I think Calvin might’ve been more enthralled with the fantasy of science fiction than the reality of space travel. I’m thinking a lot about how Sam described Clavin in Gregory’s memoriam as ‘lost in his imagination’. Maybe he could’ve become a science fiction writer or something?

Walter didn’t technically die young, but he still certainly lost most of his years to the Curse. Like, a big thing about the tragedy of Walter to me is realizing his original childhood bedroom was themed after “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” and trains.

Lil’ Walter did have an interest in adventure and travel, before his fears took it all away from him. If it wasn’t for the Curse, Walter could’ve actually something with it. Maybe he could’ve traveled around a bit and written about his experiences.

Lewis would’ve probably gone into game design. It’s not just how his fantasies manifest to us the players, but you can actually find books about game design and coding in his room. It seems that the problem was that his crappy job and his depression took away any opportunity he might have had to actually pursue this idea. Maybe if Milton never left, these three Finch siblings could’ve combined their creative skills together to make like, a very cool artsy game.

Speaking of which… man, Edith’s death stings the most because we got to know her far better than anyone else. And it’s not even the fact that she never got to share her all of her thoughts and creativity with the wider world that makes me the saddest. Getting to the end of the game and hearing just how much she was looking forwards to be with her son - even with all the hardships of being a teen mom, she was really looking forwards to it. To meet him, to share her stories with him. But instead, that worn old diary is the only connection between them...

And that’s like… part of what’s so great about WRoEF’s use of its own format. Like, the faux-interactive linearity of the Narrative Exploration/‘Walking Simulator’ is so perfect for selling this tragedy. The way each Death Flashback only moves forwards based on the actions of the Player, but it always moves on the same unchanging doomed path - really highlights both how stupidly preventable so many of these deaths feel and really make the Player wish there was a way to change them. After all, all they need is for Calvin to not swing so hard, for Gregory’s faucet to not turn back on, for Walter to not stand directly on those train tracks and everything would’ve been fine. But at the same time it’s so, so clear to the Player that this is an impossible wish. There is no other way these sequences can go - these deaths have already been written. The most you can you is linger, all you can do is delay the inevitable.

But it hurts.

#what remains of edith finch #edith finch #wroef #molly finch #barbara finch #calvin finch #walter finch #lewis finch

743 notes · View notes

jessadamsdraws · 5 months

Text

Chapter one: Changes

This au is the Wild Kratts Guardianship au by @littlecrittereli

The idea is that their is a bigger age gap between Martin and Chris (About 9 or so years apart) and Martin as legal Guardianship after Chris at a young age after they parent passed away (Think Lilo and Nani) I hope you like the first Chapter

Chris remembers that day well, he couldn’t forget if he tried. He remembers the teacher writing on the board talking about fractions. He remembers how bored he was because he knew this all and could do this in his sleep if he wanted. He remembers the teacher’s phone suddenly ringing causing everyone around him to jumping in surprise. But the part he remembers the most is the expression on his teachers face when she turned to Chris in terror like someone had died…

And it turned out someone did die.

The rest is just moments of him and his older brother coming back from Uni early (he was supposed to be back that summer break to hang out) them crying and holding each other. The fighting and shouting matches between Martin and their other relatives over him. The sudden change of moving to a super small one bedroom apartment with his brother. The meals going from warm and comforting to salty and small.

But the worst change was Martin and himself. He could remember when his brother would read to him the animal picture books and would show him how a pather would leap into the air to catch its prey. It was so much fun being the wild cat’s hunting down its prey and how he would tackle his bro in their little make believe game.

Now Martin would come home exhausted only to head over to the only expensive thing they owned, the laptop and work on his online studies. Chris now walked to and from school all on his own, coming to an empty apartment instead of the big house that felt like home then here, sitting on the floor and starting his homework on the tiny coffee table next to the second hand couch they owned. When he finished doing the little chorus he had and eating his dinner (if Martin remembered to make it).

Then there was Lauren. At first Chris didn’t know who she was but he did know she was always coming to the apartment and she asked a lot of the same questions over and over again. She was sickly sweet around him but very short with Martin. Maybe they were dating? He had seen shows where the girlfriends were always mad at their boyfriends for some reason he couldn’t understand. But when he overheard some of his classmates talking about a CSP and what that meant with a quick bit of research, he finally knew who Lauren really was.

And that now he really didn’t like Lauren.

This life became the new normal for Chris. When he reached the ripe old age of 12 was when the fights happened. Chris couldn’t understand why he was so angry. I mean he could but more specifically he didn’t know why he was mad at Martin. It was like the littlest corny joke that came out of the older blonde's mouth was like it was directed at him like it was his fault or something.

By the time he became 14 was when his life changed again when Martin got an email from someone with an opportunity that would change both of their lives forever.

===============================================

Aviva looked at the message over and over. Yes? Yes. Yes!! She did it! She got the grant for their research. She couldn’t believe it she couldn’t wait to tell Martin… oh, wait Martin. She felt her excitement turn cold in an instant.

Martin wouldn’t be able to go because of his younger brother. No, she couldn’t do this without him. It was their research, it was their project. If it wasn’t for him she wouldn’t have gotten the idea for doing this in the first place.

It was her first day at uni. She was confident that she would excel in the classes. That wasn’t her problem, it was the fact that she didn’t think she would make any friends. After what happened in space camp she didn’t she ever would again. Zach had shattered her faith in people after the utter betrayal of stealing her technology for himself. Now he owned his own company selling the bots that she originally made. Though their ai was a little off before she could fit their code to learn how to interpret turn of phrase instead of taking them literally which made her happy a little. but , still she was at rock bottom again and needed a new angle and new hook to start inventing something that could help … someone, something?

She hated this so much. She knew better than to put her eggs in one basket but she did anyway and look where it got her. In a classroom of over nine hundred students learning things she learned years ago.

“Psst? Hey,”

She heard a voice coming from behind her. Turning to see a guy in a blue sweatshirt looking at her.

“Yes, can I help you?” She asked deadpan.

“I know this is gonna sound really cliche but I forgot my pen and was wondering…” Before he even finished his sentence she had produced a pen out of almost thin air handing it to him.

“Oh my gosh you’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.” She exasperated turning back around.

“I’m Martin” and a hand stretched out from the left of her face caused her to wip back around.

“huh? Aviva.” She said unsure of how to interact in this situation. She now gave the guy a better look at him. He was all smiles and started talking about something she wasn’t really paying attention. It was a bad habit she was trying to break. What she did catch was he wanted to be a Zoologist to travel around the world with his little brother when he grows a bit (if he wanted to cause he was only 8 right now). He talked about all the creatures that he liked (Mostly aquatic variety) It reminded her of a golden retriever which made her smile a bit, but then the next thing he said was what started this whole new road she would take not just by herself as she’d thought but with her new friends, no her new family.

“Imagine if you could have the abilities of these awesome creatures.”

Yeah…

What if?

#fanfic #my art #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic writing #wild kratts fandom #wild kratts #martin kratt #kratt brothers #chris kratt #aviva corcovado #wild kratts au #WK Guardianship au

104 notes · View notes

ghoulfuckersincorporated · 4 months

Note

Pls More general sfw headcanons of cooper and reader? Ghoul or pre war whichever you prefer honestly.

General SFW Prewar!Cooper Howard Headcanons 2

(I'll do some Ghoul SFW in a follow-up; this got away from me a little.)

Clearly he enjoys film and theatre, but he has a fairly secret soft spot for musicals. Pretty much any musical will pique his interest, and you'll spend a fair few date nights out seeing shows. You find it very endearing that he wants to share his interests with you. He's got an especially soft spot for some of the older, cheesier musicals though; hope you're ready to see "Brigadoon" like a half dozen times! He's got that one on tape.

"Old Yeller" is banned media in the Howard household (as are most things about dogs who die), as well as books like "The Velveteen Rabbit", which he read to Janey when she was four and never truly recovered from. Coop cries like a baby every time and gets so embarrassed. You once asked Janey if she'd ever seen it, and she tells you, rather conspiratorially, that she once watched it at a friend's house.

The old man actually cries quite easily when he's moved by something. He'll try to hide it away, but every once in a while he fully loses it (tbh it's the 'child death' type stuff that really upsets him; to this day, he's still a little mad at Barb for showing him "Bridge to Terabithia" on family movie night and thinking he would like it). You think it's the sweetest thing and you always reassure him that it's nothing to be ashamed of.

I imagine that, like a good, engaged father, he takes a particular interest in Janey's likes and hobbies; if you ask him what she likes, he can give you an entire list of things you can engage with her on, every single one of them accurate and up-to-date. If Janey really likes a book series, he'll read it (or maybe listen to it if he's short on time). If she really likes a band, y'all have fun at the concert! Every group comes through LA so you may be going to several concerts a year eventually. He even knows who her favorite member is! He only falls in love with you more when you do the same with her.

He's a true romantic at heart; despite being really torn up about the divorce and thinking he'll never fall in love again, he does, and hard. It's not long before he (unbelievably, to him especially) finds himself wanting to propose. He waits a while, though, wanting to feel out the dynamic between you and Janey, worrying about how Barb will feel when she ultimately finds out. He doesn't want to be married to her anymore, but he still cares for her, and he doesn't want to hurt her.

I'd like to think that he and Barb had a pretty nice, large wedding (as I've said before, likely at an older age than many of their peers, even if, canonically, it seems they were already dating during Cooper's military service; they both strike me as the type to want to wait until they were better established to actually marry). Not anything too crazy, but since Cooper's career was really starting to take off, she did want to use the wedding as an opportunity to rub elbows, so there were quite a few people in attendance that he flat-out didn't know. It didn't bother him much at the time; Barb always loved an opportunity to network and Coop could never deny her anything. But, given a chance to do it over, I think he'd do things differently.

With you, he'd wanna go to the courthouse. He'd be happy to have a nice, private ceremony eventually, maybe a little vow renewal for your one-year down on the beach in Mexico or something. But when you get legally married it'll be at the courthouse, just the two of you and Janey. You wouldn't have it any other way.

You try your best to keep it under wraps, but, well...marriage licenses are a matter of public record, and there are people whose whole job is to unearth things like that. The fallout (ha) from it may be stronger than you anticipated, but, at the end of the day, you have one another, and you're happy with that.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #prewar!cooper howard #cooper howard headcanons #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

104 notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 4 months

Text

The Starlight Princess - Chapter 3

Summary:

There is a Pool of Starlight in the Spring Court. A piece of the Night Court that has no business being in the land of Eternal Spring. So how did it come to be?

Or: How the Spymaster of the Night Court starts hearing a voice, realises that no, he is not insane after all, frees a princess, kills a High Lord…and finds his mate all at the same time.

Warnings:

Discussion of the Death of Rhys’ Mother and Sister, Discussion of pre-mediated death, Tamlin bashing, Underage (?) relationships

*Azriel, you can’t do that.*

*Yes, I can.*

He really could.

He wasn’t even hesitating. It wasn’t even a real question. He was certain.

*No, you can’t. He’s a High Lord,* Seren snapped at him.

*Truth teller will slit his throat just as easily as every other living being.*

Seren came up short at that.

*Tamlin has known what happened to you for centuries. He helped. I could have forgiven that if he ever bothered to tell Rhys about it,* Azriel seethed. *But he hasn’t. He has left you there, alone, without help. He has known what he did, Seren, for three centuries. He had more than one opportunity to do the right thing, and he hasn’t done this. I am going to kill him. Your brother should have done that years ago.*

He had more than one reason to kill Tamlin. And they were good reasons too as far as he was concerned.

*And what do you think will happen to you if another High Lord figures out that you assassinated the High Lord of Spring?* Seren asked him, her voice shaking. *They are going to hunt you to death.*

*If they know that it was me. I do not intend to get caught,” Azriel answered with a mental shrug.

And even if they did…if it paid for Seren’s return, it was…fair.

*NO!*

It was a scream, a bellow in his head, her harsh disagreement with his thoughts.

So loud, so intense, so shocking, that he flinched.

* I’ll rather spend another 3 centuries as a fucking pond than let you take the fall for rescuing me!* Seren snapped at him. *I’d rather die than have you take a life for no reason but me!*

No reason but her? She was more than enough reason.

*I have killed for less, Seren,* he whispered. *Your freedom? I won’t even hesitate. I don’t care what I need to do to get you back.*

No price he would need to pay would be too high.

He had killed for less. He had been ordered to kill, used as a sword in the hands of a madman. He had been…

*And you hated him for this,* Seren said tightly. *I can live with a lot of things, but I cannot live while you hate me.*

It brought him up short. Why? Why did it matter to her so much? Why did it…Why did she care?

*Are you serious right now?* Seren growled at him. *Because I love you, you idiot!*

…what?

*Because I loved you before I even knew what that was,* Seren hissed at him, anger burning in her voice. *Because there has only ever been you, Azriel! Because you were the standard I compared every other boy to and they all came up short. Because I wanted to run away with you! Because I would have thrown away my whole life if it meant that I could have spent the rest of my time on this cauldron-forsaken earth right by your side! I would have rather had a week with you than a life without you!* And then quietly: *Because a life without you isn’t worth giving any effort to. And I won’t do it. I won’t take that risk. I don’t want to come back unless I know that I’ll have you at my side.

His mind was blank, unsure about what to think, unsure of what to say…his heart trembled at her words, at that furious declaration of love that he had never gotten from her before.

She hadn’t told him she loved him when she had asked him to run away with her. Then it had been her reduced to begging because she didn’t want to be a broodmare sold off to the highest bidder.

But now there it was.

The words that he had never thought he would get to hear from her, because he didn’t think for one moment that she saw him as anything other than an older brother.

The feelings he had for her that he had ruthlessly quashed, because he had no business to feel any of this for her, for Seren.

She had been too fucking young and…it had been wrong.

*Oh don’t start me with moral rights and wrongs. I knew exactly what I wanted. My mother was 18 to my father’s 900. I was 17 and you were 140,* Seren cut him off. *It wasn’t like you were trying to seduce me.*

*Your parents were every fucking example of where it could go wrong,* he shot back

*Well, unless you want to marry off your daughter to the highest bidder, you’ll probably do better.* He didn’t. He would never want to do anything like that. His children should be able to choose whoever they love without any input from him.

And still…he was stuck on…He was stuck on her words.

She loved him? She loved him?

He didn’t deserve that by any stretch of the imagination, he wasn’t worth her love. She was the Princess of the Night Court and he was a bastard that had spent the first decade of his life shoved into a cell in his father’s keep and…she would be better off without him.

*Cut your self-sacrificing bullshit.*

She was never going to let him get away with a single thing, was she? He couldn't find it in himself to care.

And he wanted to give in to her. He always wanted to give in to her.

*Seren,* he responded weakly. .

*Azriel,* she sniped back. *Tell me no because you don’t want you, but don’t you dare bullshit me with you not being worth being with me.*

*You know I want you,* he gave back sharply. *You are in my mind, Princess. You know exactly what I feel for you.*

How much he had missed her. How it had always been her and how every other fae that had ever been in his bed had only been a weak replacement for her.

How much he loved her.

*Your brother is going to kill me,* Azriel said weakly. *I love you,* he whispered.

He was probably going to pay the price with burning in the pits of hell for this but he didn’t care.

If it made Seren happy…it was worth it.

And she was happy. It bled all over him, every bit of her feeling, delight and happiness and surprise popping in her head like bubbles of the most expensive champagne, and he delighted in that…sunk in that sweet, intimate touch of her mind like into a hot bath.

*And because I love you, I am going to kill Tamlin,* Azriel said calmly. *It’s not the first time I acted as an assassin and I highly doubt it will be the last. And I am not going to lose a single night of sleep over this, Princess. Because he had over 300 years to do right, and he never did. And I'll do this for us, and I will never fault you for that either.*

She was quiet. Long enough that he expected her to disagree with him again, but he could feel her war with herself.

“Wait until the next full moon. The wards will be weaker then,” Seren finally said quietly. *And don't you dare get caught, Azriel. I'll never forgive you.*

He bit back a smile at that.

*Full Moon is in three days.*

Three days. He could deal with three days, right?

*And once I’ll be home…*

*I’ll be there. I promise you, I’ll be there.*

It was the easiest promise he ever gave.

But that didn’t stop him from preparing.

It was an unspoken agreement between himself and Seren that he didn’t tell Rhys. Or anybody else.

The less people knew, the better. Better only to be his own hopes to be dashed…

And still, the day after, he sought out her room in the House of Wind. Always kept pristine…he could feel Rhys’ magic all over it. Kept as an unspoken reminder of his sister. Never touched, her things never taken or thrown away.

It was still looking just like it had when she and her mother had left that last time.

*Anything in particular you want?* he asked her as he stepped into it, carefully, not wanting to disturb anything…other than picking up a dress for her to wear if the breaking of that curse would leave her bare.

Better safe than sorry, wasn’t it?

*My swords,* she said immediately. *There is a loose floorboard under the bed…I kept them stashed there.*

*Of course,* he agreed with a chuckle. Of all the things she could want it were the swords first.

He found them, carefully stashed there…still as perfect as they had been when he had gifted them to her.

The Amethysts in the hilt glowed brightly as he picked them up carefully, the Illyrian runes inscribed into the hilt…

Brighter than all the Stars in the Night Sky.

*I am a princess, I am allowed pretty and deadly things,* she harrumphed but and he couldn’t help but laugh.

*Of course you are, sweetheart,* he agreed indulging. All the pretty and deadly things she could want.

*And the purple dress in the chest at the foot of the bed,* she continued. He found that just as easily, the purple dress put on top of everything else in that chest. He picked it up and his gaze was immediately pulled to a black dress lying beneath it, the fabric sparkling with dozens of embroidered dancing stars.

It was beautiful.

But he had never once seen her wear that.

*Did you make it?* he asked her softly.

*No. My mother did. For my wedding,* she answered, her voice hoarse.

A wedding dress. Made before she had ever even become engaged. Like her mother had somehow known that…that she wouldn’t be there anymore should that ever happen.

*It’s beautiful,* Azriel told her, staring at the dress for a moment longer.

He didn’t allow his thoughts to wander down that road, though he couldn’t help but want to see her in it.

*Anything else?* he asked her, forcing himself to be practical.

*Shoes are behind the door. Underwear is in the drawers. Black, please,* she told him primly, though he was quite sure that she was mentally laughing at him when he picked out her underwear like one would a poisonous snake.

He left her room after that, unable to stomach spending even more time in it. And then promptly ran into Nesta.

“New weapons, Az?” she asked him instead of greeting him, nodding to the twin swords he kept in his hands.

“Something like that,” he answered easily. He…wasn’t going to explain Seren to her, or what he was planning to do with the swords or anything, but thank the gods, Nesta didn’t ask him about that either.

“Did you find what you were searching for in the library? Gwyn said you had a face like thunder,” she teased him.

*Who’s she?* Seren asked, a note of something in her voice. Was that jealousy? He couldn’t help but bite back the smile at the small hint of it.

*Nesta. Cassian’s Mate,* he answered calmly, immediately answering the unspoken question of how Nesta stood to him.

*She’s gorgeous,* Seren said pointedly.

*Pretty and deadly,* Azriel agreed. “I did,” he told Nesta aloud. “I found what I was searching for.”

“That’s good,” Nesta agreed. “You’ll come to dinner at the River House tonight?”

“No, I have plans,” he said immediately. If you called a plan cooking dinner and talking to the cursed Princess making herself a room in his head.

*Excuse me, I am great company,” Seren complained and he forced himself not to start laughing.

Nesta would think he had gone off the deep end if he did.

*You are, Princess,* he promised her. She was the best company.

“Alright. Don’t work too late,” Nesta told him pointedly.

“I won’t, I promise,” Azriel gave back easily.

He wasn’t planning on that.

But in the end, he didn’t even get to go home, until he could feel Seren’s terror in his mind.

*What’s wrong?* he demanded sharply. Something was happening. He didn’t know what…but at that time he could nearly feel the slight disruption around him…could nearly feel the whole of Prythian shudder…

*The wards are failing, Azriel.*

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x rhys' sister #my writing #the starlight princess #the starlight princess story

73 notes · View notes