#he's meant to be gesturing at someone but it kind of looks like he's looking angrily at his paw LOL. oh well

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

a waste of a beautiful dress - n. hischier

summary: an unhappy valentine's day date doesn't always end up with you watching lord of the rings alone with a glass of wine...at least, not when a certain captain can help it

warnings: talks of sex/bad date, mention of alcohol consumption, descriptions of the above facial injury, swearing, cutesy 2.1k thing

a/n: this is a short imagine-thing i wrote on valentine's day that i kind of forgot about (i was gonna write more but i just couldn't think of what to do, so if the ending's weird, that's why!) and i didn't want to not publish this for you guys, so...enjoy!

“Is everything okay?”

You blinked, the elevator coming back to focus around you, the walls distorting the reflection of someone that, rather against your will, you’d found growing increasingly familiar with each week. The bottle of wine in your grasp felt suddenly heavier under his careful scrutiny, and you felt your fist tighten around it, almost protectively.

You could only imagine what you looked like: nice clothes – maybe a little too  nice for an evening stroll or a walk around the block, and a tarnished, almost numb expression on your face, even despite the conflicted tornado swirling inside your mind. There was no doubt he’d deciphered your distracted look and the dejection written so plainly on your face. Yet, though you knew what he saw, you refused to feel pity for yourself.

You inhaled, plastering a tight smile on your face as you looked towards him, his beloved beanie on his head and a backpack on his shoulders. His head was dipped a little, a slight furrow between his brows, ever telling of his caring tendencies, and you suddenly felt a little better, even despite the previous events.

“I’m fine.” You tried, slyly moving the bottle further out of his sight. It didn’t work: his eyes seemed to catch the slight motion before meeting yours, a look of disbelief on his face, “You?” You asked, desperate to turn his attention away from you.

Nico Hischier wasn’t someone you’d have found yourself chatting to casually mere months ago, at least not past the usual pleasantries. Though, it seemed the mutual friends and the many parties had oiled that creaking joint somewhere along the way, and – hesitantly – you were friends to some degree. So much so that every so often the two of you may find yourselves in the other’s apartment with a mug of coffee or a glass of wine in hand with something playing on the TV.

Of course, no one else knew about that.

He sighed, leaning back against the mirror opposite you. There was a cut under his eye you hadn’t seen immediately, but when he leant back the light seemed to catch the green skin and the scratch. He seemed to notice your concerned wince before you could point it out, his hand flying up to lightly press underneath it, “It’s fine, I just caught a puck yesterday.”

Before he could say anything else, and you knew he would because he started to frown again, you interrupted, a slight laugh of mirth passing your lips, “No big deal.”

He froze a little, but still a smile replaced the apprehension as he shook his head, "Better my cheek than my teeth.” 

“That’s true.” You grinned in agreement, attention immediately turning to the opening doors as they dinged, your floor appearing before you.

“After you.” Nico gestured, following closely behind as you both wandered to the end of the hall, your eyes glued to the patterned tiles beneath your feet, before a thought suddenly struck you, and with some urgency.

“Do you have Arnica?” You turned to Nico, your hand hovering under your own eye when he blinked in confusion, shaking his head, “For your eye? It helps with pain and bruising.”

“Uh…”

“Unless you want to keep your battle scar?” You teased lightly, unzipping your bag to pull out your keys, only to notice his still-close presence by your shoulder, even despite being outside your door.

You looked up, only to be met with a sheepish smile, one that you knew meant you’d caught him, but he shrugged, “The Arnica seems sensible.”

“Sensible?” You pushed your key through the door, turning the lock.

“It’s not much of a battle scar when a rubber disc wins.” He rationalised, walking through your doorway when you held it open for him and immediately gravitating towards the cat bed towards the far end of your apartment.

By the time you’d locked the door, shed your coat and placed your bag and the wine on the counter, he’d returned, still in his coat, beanie and backpack with a fond look on his face, your cat snuggled in his arms with no complaints of the attention except a rumbling, contented purr.

His eyes seemed to drop to your dress, and widen a little, and you knew there was absolutely no dodging his questions, not when he seemed to grow a little wary and dart his gaze to the bottle of wine on the counter.

“Did you have any Valentine’s plans today?” he asked lightly, briefly turning his attention back to the cat in his arms, most likely to give you a moment to steel yourself.

You hesitated, adjusting the straps on your dress. Nico was lovely, you knew that; he’d never once said or done anything to make you feel uncomfortable, but there was something more serious and vulnerable as to what you were about to say – lying wasn’t really in the cards, mostly because you knew he knew whatever had happened already hadn’t particularly ended well.

He’d caught you on the verge of tears in an elevator by yourself, clutching a bottle of wine, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t do that on Valentine’s day unless something had gone wrong.

“I did.” You breathed, quickly wiping down the counter surface and avoiding looking at him, trying to fight the embarrassment clawing its way up your throat, threatening to spill colour onto your cheeks.

You had nothing to be embarrassed about whatsoever.

He said nothing, just watched you carefully, keeping his distance. If you didn’t want to talk about it, you knew he wouldn’t even press the subject.

“I had a date earlier–” out of the corner of your eye, you saw his gaze cut to the clock on the wall: half-past six. “It didn’t go well.”

He nodded, treading carefully with his words, “How come?”

“He made some comments that I couldn’t really ignore, and when I asked him about it, y’know, to just clarify some things, he kicked off, I corrected him, he sulked, and then left halfway through when I went to the toilet.” You said in one breath, feeling your skin prickle with the reminder of the entire ordeal, scrubbing at a spot on the counter – sometimes grease just didn't budge.

There was the dull thud of paws against your floor, and you looked up to see Nico standing at the opposite side of the counter, an unreadable expression on his face. His brows were pulled together, but there was no telltale crease; his mouth was parted, but in a way that suggested he was a bit more hesitant at finding out what you had to say than a mortified scowl.

“What did he say?” His tone of voice was unwavering, but the slight edge to it sent your heart pounding a little harder nonetheless.

He had a sister, he was probably thinking of all the worst possible scenarios.

You felt your voice get caught in your throat, and you found yourself wishing you’d never even been this honest with him in the first place, because you felt…embarrassed, almost, to admit it fully, “He made a ‘my place or yours after this’ comment and I told him I didn’t want to sleep with him, so he left the first chance he got.” You said quietly, still making yourself busy with tidying the kitchen.

You inhaled deeply, spinning on your heel and fiddling with some of the utensils before you could gain the courage to even look in his direction. You didn’t want to see him pity you.

Except, when you did look up, you saw none of the pity you’d been expecting. In fact, his mouth was pressed firmly shut, and when he caught you looking at him, he – very insistently – muttered, “Well, he’s a fucking dick.”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch up in some hint of a smile, “Thanks.”

Then, almost like it did in the elevator, the light seemed to catch the shiner under his eye, reminding you of the very reason he’d walked through your threshold in the first place, and you began to wander through the hallway, “I’ll go get the Arnica.”

He nodded in response, shucking his coat and draping it across the back of one of the stools, before bending down to stroke the cat nuzzling at his shins. You rounded the corner into your bathroom, rifling through the cupboard for the tube of cream, before making your way back into the living area, the tube outstretched in your hand.

He took it from you gently, leaning his elbows across the countertop as he read the information on the back of it silently.

“What about you?” You asked, and he looked up, “Any Valentine’s Day plans?”

He blinked, sighing, “I laid in bed for an hour longer than usual.” He said simply, “Then I went to a late morning skate, came home, watched some TV, went to the gym, and now I’m here. So, no, not really.” He inhaled, and you felt yourself grow a little uneasy when he started poking the swelling under his eye, looking into his phone to apply the cream, “You got any more plans?”

Your eyes darted to the bottle of wine, “I was gonna drink wine and watch Lord of the Rings.”

He breathed a startled laugh, “Sounds like a good plan.”

“It is.” You agreed, pausing to consider something, before taking a breath, “Do you wanna join me?”

It wasn’t something you’d never done with each other before; in fact, the two of you seemed to get along better without a cacophony of people interrupting (though that wasn’t much of a surprise), however there was something more delicate and meaningful in the knowledge of the day: Valentine’s Day was undoubtedly something that was weighing on both your minds. It was impossible not to – the posts on social media, the love hearts plastered in shop windows and the flowers everywhere didn’t let you forget it.

It just felt different, somehow.

Nico’s fingers faltered under his eye, and he looked up, brown eyes a little wider than usual, with his mouth parted in surprise. Evidently, he’d been thinking along similar lines to you, but Valentine’s Day wasn’t just about romance and love and whatnot: it was also just another day.

He blinked, eyes searching your face for regret in asking, or for some sign that he should turn down your offer, no matter how tantalising it was.

“It’s not gonna drink itself.” You joked lamely, watching as he slowly nodded, ducking his head down to mask the smile you knew was now on his face.

“Are you sure?” He mumbled, placing his phone on the counter and screwing the top back onto the cream. His eye was now shining a little, but it gave you inexplicable comfort to know that it was at least taken care of temporarily.

Even looking at it seemed to send a dull ache thrumming across your cheekbone.

“I’m sure.” 

Then: “Did you eat on that date?” He asked, raising a brow.

“No.”

He frowned, but showed nothing to say he was particularly shocked by that answer, and stood up from the stool very quickly – quick enough to startled the cat, and quick enough to have to catch the stool from falling over in his haste, “Do you maybe want to get something to eat, first? I know a good place a couple of blocks away.”

You stuttered, not entirely expecting such a spontaneous proposal, “Sure, I just—I should change first, though.”

His eyes dragged down your figure, and for the first time ever, you found yourself trying to regain control of the sudden blush that threatened to stain your cheeks, before he tutted, met your eyes, smiled and shook his head, dimples as clear as they’d ever been. There was something bright in his eye, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d assume there was some mischief lingering there – as though he knew exactly what you were refraining from doing under his gaze.

“Personally,” he started off slowly, “I think it’d be a waste of a beautiful dress.”

You sucked the inside of your cheek, looking down at your dress. It was beautiful, though arguably it had already been wasted on the day considering the hellish date experience, but maybe eating out with Nico would change that? 

“In that case…” You trailed off, grabbing your coat and slipping your shoes back on, “But–” You whirled around, Nico’s hand going suspiciously fast to cover his mouth, though the crinkles by his eyes certainly told you everything you needed to know, and arched an accusing brow in his direction, “I’m changing when we get back.”

“Fine by me.” He held up his hands in surrender, mouth pressed tightly together to prevent himself from laughing, and you rolled your eyes at his innocent act, but said nothing.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier oneshot #nico hischier fic #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey player x reader #hockey fic

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

Foxglove

(Written by me. Originally published by Literary Times Magazine.)

I didn’t mean to summon the ghost.  Okay, I meant to, but I regretted it.

My friend Cyprus knew it was a bad idea from the start.  “You talk this way about every girl for two weeks, then you move on to someone else.  Just put a curtain over the portrait and forget about it.”

“I can’t.  Thinking about her hurts, and just the prospect of not thinking about her hurts more.  I dream about her pretty much every night.”

Cyprus closed his eyes.  His gold-rimmed glasses made him look like he was from another century.

I leaned across the table, making my eyes big.  “You can do it, right?”

“I’ve only recreated the ritual in a classroom setting, and only for animal spirits.”

“You’re a straight-A student.”

“That doesn’t mean I can do it.”

But he could.  

Ever since I moved here, the portrait of the actress had smirked down at me like a vixen.  She’d died young, in the early 1920s – this house is split into condos now, but it used to all be hers.

After my last breakup, I looked up photos of her.  She was most active during the 1910s, when stage actresses had a kind of dreamlike beauty: long tresses of dark hair, and huge, dewy, downturned eyes in the middle of a misty face.

I put the laptop down and went to bed thinking about her.  I dreamed about her pressed against me, warm and alive.  Since then, I couldn’t stop.

Cyprus showed up with a briefcase and his cat.

“Before I start, you should know I’m not doing this for you.”  He put his cat carrier in the center of the room.  He drew the sigils around it in chalk.  He set up the candles.  “I’m doing this because my professor said I could use it as an extra credit assignment.”

“It won’t hurt your cat, right?”

“I would never endanger General Pawshington.”

He had me sit cross-legged on the floor, then drew sigils around me too.  

Then he opened his briefcase and took out a yellowed sheet of paper.  “I can only say the words and perform the gestures,” he said.  “Your yearning has to be strong enough to call her here.  And then if she doesn’t want to stay, she can leave.”

“Got it.”

He started to chant, making swift finger motions, and I snickered.  

He paused.  “You have to think about her, or it won’t work.”

“Sorry.”

This time when he started to chant, I kept my eyes fixed on her portrait.  Even when she began to materialize over the cat carrier – out of the corner of my eye, I could make out the shape of a tiny hurricane, twisting into the shape of a woman.  I felt like if I looked at her, she’d vanish.

I imagined a relationship with a ghost.  A ghost would never change – if they wanted change, they wouldn’t be here.  They usually stayed tethered to one place.  I imagined coming home to her day after day, her tether to the outside world.

“No,” she screamed.  “No!”

I looked over at her.  She was as beautiful as her pictures, her black dress fading into gray mist at the skirt.  But she didn’t look sad or bemused, like she did in her photos.  She looked furious, the whites showing around her pupils, her dainty mouth twisted in rage.

She looked between me and Cyprus.  “Why would you do this?”

“I love you,” I blurted, at the exact same time Cyprus said, “Extra credit.”

She screamed so loud the cat hissed and the windows seemed to shake.

“Um,” I said, looking to Cyprus for guidance.

He didn’t look back.  Just stared up at her with fascination and regret.

She dematerialized, dissipating into mist that seemed to scatter against the ceiling, maybe through it.

“Was that…supposed to happen?” I asked.

“Some ghosts react badly to being summoned.  But if she’s unhappy here, she can return to the afterlife.”

She did not, for whatever reason, return to the afterlife.

It turned out that being haunted was not a fun experience.  I thought if I could just tell her about myself, she’d like me as much as I thought I’d like her, but she wasn’t interested in that.

She slammed doors.  Chilled rooms.  Flung objects.  Sobbed in the night.

“Can you please just talk to me?” I pleaded, after being woken up at 3 AM for the third time that week.  “I’m sorry!  I just wanted to meet you, that’s all!”

You know how when you’re in bed, you sometimes look up at the ceiling fan and picture it falling?  Well, that’s what happened next.  Fortunately, no bones were broken.

Cyprus’s extra credit assignment became his thesis project.  He came back as my neighbor was complaining to me about the new “poltergeist problem,” unaware I was responsible for it.

“And who are you?” the neighbor asked Cyprus.  “An exorcist?”

“Close.  I’m a student from the Providence College of Necromancy.”

“Great.  A student.  They always send kids to solve adult problems these days.”

Inside, Cyprus called, “Foxglove!”  For some reason, I don’t think I ever thought to address the actress by name.  “Foxglove, you have to stop, or they’re going to send an exorcist to get rid of you.”

She materialized out of the air like mist – the first time I’d seen her since we’d initially summoned her.  She really was so beautiful, her dark hair floating around her like a dream.  “It’s not fair,” she said.  “It’s my house.”

“I know,” he said, sadly.  Well, sadly for him.  He had a catlike way of emoting.

“I remember Heaven in flashes.  I don’t think you’re supposed to remember it while you’re on Earth,” she said, sounding frustrated but relieved at having someone to talk to.  “I want to go back so badly, but I don’t want to leave my life again.  All I can do is yearn for what I had before.”

“Maybe you can tell me about your life,” said Cyprus, not disguising the interest in his voice.  “I could write it down, and publish it.  And people could read about you.”

Her eyes looked sad, dewy, and hopeful, like they did in the portrait.  “I’d like that.”

I felt sidelined, like a third wheel.  It bothered me that she forgave his selfishness just because he was open about it – I wanted someone I could love, he wanted an extra credit assignment.

My goal was selfish too, in the context that I’d pulled her away from her life – or afterlife – in the hopes that she’d be a part of mine.  But wanting something to love wasn’t supposed to be selfish.  And if it was, that was supposed to be forgivable, if only because it was so human.

I’d apologized.  He hadn’t.  He was open about his self-interest, his fascination with the predicament he’d created.  But I could tell that if she forgave one of us, it would be him.  If she fell in love with one of us, it would be him.

That night, he stayed over to listen to her talk about her childhood, her poverty, her discovery.  About dancing and singing and playing Lady Macbeth, before performances were immortalized on film, when acting was still ephemeral.  About the day after she did too much laudanum and drifted under the surface of the tub.

She wanted to pull herself back past the surface, but she couldn’t.  She just couldn’t will her limbs to move.  “They say that those who take their own lives can’t get to Heaven,” she mused.  “I did.  But maybe that’s because I really wanted to live.”

Cyprus was listening, his recorder on the table next to him, taking notes.  He was interested in every word, wanting to capture as much as possible.  His intense curiosity, the Victor Frankenstein in him, was what made him a great student.

“I have some more questions I want to ask, about certain aspects of your life,” he said, switching off his recorder.  “Can I come back Thursday night?”

“I’ll be here,” she said.  Her dress had turned from black to white, and the mist she emanated had paled.

I could have tried talking to her.  

Instead, I called my ex, and told her what happened.

“It’s just like with me, James,” she sighed.  “You wanted her till she was a real person.”

It was true.  I’d never met a girl I could love more than an idea.

“It’s lonely for me too,” I said.

“I know.”

“Why do you think it’s so hard to love someone right?”

“Because when you do, it becomes something you want to give to them, not something you want to take.”  She said it like she’d been thinking about it for a long time, waiting for someone to ask.  “I think that’s why we spend most of our lives learning how to do it.”

#short fiction #original short story #ghost story #romance story #my writing #writing #fiction

[crimsonhydrangeavn]

I got a question for Garrett, what would happen if MC decided pamper him

Like complimenting him daily

Telling him to rest and spend time

Reminding him he's enough and that perfection isn't always the answer and that MC fell in love because who he truly is and not the one he shows outside of Saint Anne

Instead of going out to dinner, making home cooked meals and etc.

And also help him get the proper help he really needs. That poor baby needs a hug ;-;

Oh my, this is literally the sweetest ask ever! Just the thought of you taking the time to try and heal Garret warms my heart! So much so I'll can't help but share a few little spoilers about his past. I'll make sure to mark them so you don't accidentally spoil yourself if you don't want to!

Honestly, I think Garret's initial reaction would be to happily accept the compliments, home cooked meals, and quality time chalking it up as what a "healthy" relationship should look like. That being said, he would absolutely spoil you and reciprocate all of those sweet and loving gestures.

When it comes to the positive affirmations and being told that he doesn't need to be perfect... well it'll take some time for him to fully believe your words.

At first he'd think your just being kind and saying what expected of wonderful life partner. However, once it sunk in that you were being genuine and you actually meant it... He'd have a really difficult time accepting it.

SPOILER STARTS BELOW

Garret was raised to be his parent's golden only child. That being said, nothing he did was ever enough for his parents. Straight A's? Why not straight A+'s? You won first place in a race? Why aren't you competing in the nationals? What's that? You won a national competition? Why didn't you beat the previous record? Oh you did? Well you need to focus on other extracurriculars if you want to get into the same Ivy league school your father went to. Nothing he did was ever enough for them, however he was far better than his classmates when it came to nearly everything. Grades, athletics, extracurriculars, looks, body, social acumen, etc. All of the girls in his private school wanted to be with him and all of the guys wanted to be him.

However he never saw any of them to be worthy of his time, not until you came along that is...

END SPOILER

The thought of someone like you, the object of ALL of his affections, believing that he's worthy? That he doesn't have to run several miles a day and practically starve himself to maintain his model-esque figure? That he doesn't have to spoil you in riches beyond your wildest dreams?

It'll be a lot for him to understand and accept. However, once he finally believes your sincerity, the poor guy cling onto you and will break down into heart-wrenching sobs.

Finally, finally someone accepts him. Not for the perfect mask he's been trained to wear from a young age, but actually loves and accepts him for who he is on the inside.

And it's not just anyone. It's you. The one he adores, the one he's been completely and hopelessly devoted to since he first saw you, the only one that truly matters.

He would be a completely wreck, but with your patience and kind words he might actually have a shot at healing himself and actual redemption.

Of course, that'll all depend on your actions in and outside of game. ; )

#original character #yandere #yandere visual novel #yanderes #male yandere #yandere vn #crimson hydrangea #visual novel #crimson hydrangea vn #ask #garre #garret belmont

[ellecdc]

The Winner Takes It All

poly!Marauders x reader (gender not specified)

CW: slight light angst (between reader x other students), confusion on relationship status, fluff

You didn’t really know what you had done to win the affections of the infamous Marauder boys – namely Remus, Sirius, and James – but you weren’t going to question it too deeply; you quite enjoyed their company.

Everyone knew the three boys were together: Sirius and James were never known for their subtlety, and Remus was the reluctant (but quite pleased) victim of their near constant PDA. 

Somehow, you too had gotten swept up in their affections.

It wasn’t official – in the sense that you and the boys had never discussed what their flirting, pet names, cuddles, or forehead kisses meant in the grand scheme of things – but no one was ignorant to the chemistry between the four of you. The boys were so unbelievably sweet with you, and their attention felt like nothing short of worship.

James’ excessive excitement when you walked into a room left you feeling like you meant something; an overwhelming sense of belonging within his space. Sirius’ devilish flirting, compliments, and obvious ogling made you feel more beautiful than you ever thought possible. And Remus’ small gestures – whether carrying your books for you, ensuring you’ve eaten and drank enough water, and his special nicknames he seemed to save just for you - left you melted into a puddle of fondness. 

And that wasn’t always taken very well by others.

Namely, Emmeline Vance. 

The boys had been known to be quite…open…in their sexual encounters in the past and have, on occasion, included a fourth party in their dorm room activities. This quickly stopped when some parties felt this meant they were included in their dynamic.

Emmeline was one of them, and it appeared she wasn’t taking the news of them seemingly working to include an official fourth to their relationship very well. 

This is one of the reasons you hadn’t brought up exactly what you meant to them; you were not interested in simply being the boys’ next bedmate, and a part of you was afraid that bringing things up would expose the fact that this was indeed their hope.

The other part of you knew that the boys weren’t the kind to string someone along, and that they’d have to be playing an awfully long game if that was truly their angle. But the possibility squeezed at your heart nonetheless.

Emmeline had taken to making snooty comments to you when the boys weren’t around. Lily, Marlene, Peter, and Dorcas seemed particularly bothered by it, but you did your best to ignore her.

But there was a part of you that wanted to scream at her a little bit…you weren’t even technically in a relationship with them! You’d never slept with them, you’d never even properly kissed any of them, and you certainly hadn’t made any moves to make whatever this was ‘official’. 

Another part of you didn’t even want to entertain the situation. You had far more important things to concern yourself with: You were studying for your NEWTS, considering whether you wanted to head right into the workforce or explore further education, and where the hell you were going to live after graduation. 

Unfortunately, Emmeline wasn’t the only one to pick up on your new-found closeness with the Marauders.

“Well, well, well…look what the lions dragged in.” Mulciber sneered from behind you as you made your way up the path from Hogsmeade. You rolled your eyes and kept your head forward; you’d been given permission from the headmaster to run to the village to purchase more potions ingredients, but apparently, so had the Slytherins.

“What? Good enough for those Gryffindor’s but not us? Where’re you running too?” Avery continued with a malicious grin when you picked up your pace. 

Thankfully, you could see the Hogwarts grounds were up ahead, and Lily was there at the gates waiting for you.

“Sod off.” You threw over your shoulder, feeling slightly bolder in the presence of your friend. 

You smiled warmly at the redhead as she threw her arm over your shoulder, sparing the Slytherin gits behind you a withering glare as you carried on towards the castle.

“What’s their problem now, hm?” She asked you, still glaring at the boys.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, who knows. Not happy with anyone associated with the Marauders.” 

Lily snorted inelegantly. “I don’t even think they’ve bothered pranking the Slytherin’s lately.”

“Nope.” You agreed with a pop of the P. “Everyone’s got bigger problems right now.”

Lily laughed but it turned into a groan. “Yeah, speaking of: incoming.”

You followed her gaze to see Emmeline making her way towards the two of you.

“Hello Lily!” She said cheerily before her face turned stony as the considered you, “Y/N.”

You tried to refrain (somewhat unsuccessfully) from rolling your eyes as you said hello to the girl.

“Have you seen the boys around?” She asked feigning innocence, but you both knew exactly who she was on about.

Lily played dumb, though you knew that she knew very well who Emmeline was looking for. “Which boys, Vance? That covers just about half of the population at Hogwarts.” She asked coolly. 

“Remmy, Siri, and Jamie. Obviously. I’m going to ask them to Hogsmeade this weekend.” She shared with a sense of finality. You did roll your eyes at this, and Lily scoffed.

“Well, my first place to look for them would be with Y/N, and seeing as they’re not here, I couldn’t tell you.” Lily spat.

Emmeline narrowed her eyes and looked between the two of you before she levelled a glare at you.

“This isn’t over. I’ll win them back.” She said plainly, and something about her tone caused you to snap.

The Slytherin’s, Emmeline, the stress of not knowing – it was all too much, and you were done.

“You know what, Emmeline?” You said in a calm tone as you looked to the sky. “You can have them.”

Lily whipped her head to look at you bewilderedly at the same time Emmeline cocked her head at you.

“I beg your pardon?” She asked as you returned your eyes to her.

“If you think you can ‘win’ them, you can have them. I don’t want something that can so easily be taken from me, anyway. But you’re competing in a game that I’m not even playing, so either take them or leave me alone because I’ve got bigger fucking problems than your stupid school-girl crush.” You were out of breath by the time you finished; your face was hot, and you were sure it was likely the colour of Lily’s hair, but you willed yourself not to cry as you stormed toward the castle.

Damn being an angry crier.

You were just so tired – this wasn’t a game to you; these were your friends, perhaps more (you certainly hoped more), and it was also your feelings. But what you said was true – nothing that can be taken from you is worth keeping, not even them. 

Lily quickly caught up to you but knew better than to say anything now, giving you the chance to breathe and calm down. You both made your way to Gryffindor tower where you threw yourself haphazardly into one of the plush couches near the fireplace. 

“Fuck.” You groaned as you rubbed your hand down your face.

“You okay, hun?” Lily asked as she pet your head commiseratively. 

You groaned again as you let your hand fall from your head and hang dramatically off the side of the couch. “Yeah, just tired. Of everything.”

Lily hummed in sympathy. “Why don’t you relax up here? I can bring you something from the Great Hall for supper.”

You looked at your friend like she hung the moon. “You’d do that for me?”

She chuckled and pinched your cheek, “‘Course. Anything for you, gorgeous.” She winked, trying on her best Sirius Black voice to mimic what the boy has said to you many-a-times before. 

They really did treasure you, didn’t they?

You sort of regretted your outburst now – you knew the boys weren’t a prize in some juvenile contest; that’s what you’d been trying to point out – but you worried that’s not the way it sounded. What would they do once they heard? And you knew they would – hear about it, that is. Would their feelings be hurt? Would they understand? Would they feel embarrassed to be spoken about in such a manner?

You didn’t have much time to think about it after Lily left, because before you knew it, said boys were crawling through the portrait hole. 

“Angel!” James shouted at you as he found your form curled up against the arm of the couch. He made for you instantly, vaulting himself over the back of the couch sat opposite of you like some kind of living room gymnast and launching himself onto your couch, nearly right on top of you. 

“Hi Jamie.” You said shyly as his arms wrapped around your middle and he dug his face into the crook of your neck.

“Missed you.” He said, though the sound was muffled from the new home he seemed to have made in your being.

“Lily said we’d find ya here.” Sirius said as he sat on the coffee table in front of you. You grimaced in response.

“How was your trip to Hogsmeade?” Remus redirected at your obvious discomfort, taking a place beside Sirius.

“Oh, it was alright. I found what I needed.” You answered quietly, playing with the nailbeds of your fingers. Sirius quickly gave you one of his hands to play with instead. 

“We heard you gave Vance a verbal lashing.” He said as you fiddled with one of the many rings adorning his long fingers. You groaned and let your head fall back onto the couch. 

“Sirius.” Remus quietly (though lovingly) chided. “Do you wanna talk about it, dove?” 

And there he goes with the nicknames, and James’ cuddling and Sirius’ piercing gaze and what the hell were you even doing here? 

“No.” You answered. “I don’t know.” You amended quickly. 

“I hope she didn’t upset you too terribly.” James offered quietly as he moved his chin to rest on your shoulder so he could look at you. You were suddenly self-conscious of how the side of your head looked.

“No. I may have been a little out of line.” You acquiesced. Sirius scoffed dramatically.

“Please, you’ve never been unreasonable a day in your life. You should try it once in a while.”

You chuckled at the dark-haired boy. “If anyone can drive me to it, it’ll be you boys.” You tried to joke, but it came out somberly. 

“I’m sorry if being with us makes things a little tricky for you, with other students.” Remus apologized. 

You snorted. “I’m not sure why being friends with you guys should be such an issue for other people.”

“Friends?” James asked as he sat up a little straighter. You cocked your eyebrow as you turned to look at him.

“Well, I don’t know…We’ve never really discussed anything, I didn’t want to assume…” You trailed off as you started picking at your nailbeds again. This time, Sirius moved to his knees in front of you and took both of your hands in each of his.

“Assume. Assume it all; all of it, everything. We’re yours.” He said emphatically, punctuating each sentiment with a squeeze of your joined hands.

“If you’ll have us…” Remus corrected, and you felt something swell behind your eyes at the faint blush that appeared on his cheeks. 

James seemed just as moved by Remus’ bashfulness as he leaned forward to caress the boy’s cheek. “We know we’d love to have you.” James finished for him.

You sniffled and offered them a tight smile. “I’d like that.”

Sirius deflated instantly and let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank gods. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you said no.”

“Die, probably.” James said seriously, surprising a laugh out of you.

“We never wanted you to feel insecure in your place with us, dovey. We’re sorry we didn’t make it clearer how much you mean to us.” Remus continued.

“It’s not that. You make me feel very…” but you trailed off timidly.

“Very…” Sirius continued with a devilish grin. You tried to hide behind your hands but he held-fast. “Don’t get shy on us now, gorgeous. How do we make you feel?”

“Cherished.” You whispered, and you watched as the mirth left his face, leaving behind only fondness.

“Oh, thank merlin.” James breathed. “I thought I’d have to up my flirting; and I don’t know if you guys know this, but I already live at 100% love always.”

“We know.” You, Sirius, and Remus answered in unison. 

“Okay, Jamie. Scoot.” Sirius said as he stood. He hardly waited for James to make room before he’d picked you up and flipped you two, so he was now sitting in your spot, and you were in his lap. “My turn.” He muttered as he put his face in the crook of your neck like James had before. James didn’t seem to mind the intrusion much; his arm thrown across Sirius’ shoulders and fingers rubbing at the baby hairs on your neck.

“Y/N?” Remus asked, and your toes curled in anxiety at how serious he looked.

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you?” He asked, keeping his honey gaze locked on yours.

You felt a grin overtake your face as you nodded emphatically. His smile matched yours as he leaned forward resting his hand on your knee and pressed his lips gently to yours. You felt so incredibly complete – Sirius’ arms wrapped securely around you, James gently massaging your neck and shoulders, and Remus’ lips on yours.

Both you and Remus seemed reluctant to separate, but you did. He pressed one last kiss to your lips before he leaned back into his seat on the coffee table.

“Does this mean we get to do that all of the time now?!” James asked excitedly, causing the three of you to chuckle. You didn’t much mind the sound of that.

“There was no competition.” Sirius said quietly from his place in your neck. You turned your head which forced him from your neck as you looked at him inquisitively.

“There was never any competition. Between you and Emmeline.” He clarified, silver irises seeming to bore into your soul. “Between you and anyone.” 

You felt heat rush to your cheeks and ducked your head.

“And even if there was,” James continued, “you’d have won by a landslide.” 

Read the companion piece: The Loser Has To Fall

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #self insert #reader insert #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x reader #poly marauders x you #poly marauders x reader #marauders imagine #marauder fanfiction #marauders ficlet #baby blurb #marauders baby blurb #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #ellecdc fics

[gay-dorito-dust]

hmmm just imagine Jason Todd with a girlfriend pretty and kind like an angel and everyone is just shocked because 'how they're a couple??"

Think I went a little of ask for this one 😂 🦦

Jason calls you his angel for a reason.

You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re downright beautiful/gorgeous and withheld an equally sweet, kind soul that bleeds through everything that you did or said. When you met Jason he was on the cusp of unconsciousness, finding him just slumped at your front door, severely injured. Anyone else who knew better would’ve left him but no, not you. You brought him -THE RedHood- into your house and home out of the kindness of your heart and patched him up as best as you could.

Heaven sent is another name of endearment that Jason called you and it held true on a plethora of occasions where he would find himself being dragged back at your doorstep, and it wasn’t long after that did Jason finally allow himself to pursue a chance at happiness by your side, and he’d be damned if it wasn’t the best decision he’s ever made in his entire life because being with you had been nothing short of a dream for Jason. A dream he never thought he’d get to live with the fucked up ordeal of having came back from the dead.

However when his family manages to catch wind of this because nothing stays secret for long, not by a long shot, their first thought was; how?

This wasn’t a slight towards Jason or his character but they couldn’t help but feel as though they’ve blinked and missed something extremely pivotal for this to have become the end result. They weren’t the only one to share this sentiment though as even Jason would be taken aback by your differences and often wondered if you were too different for your relationship to work.

It does however and it was one of the only times where Jason was grateful for being wrong for getting inside his own head, and just before he possibly ruins the best thing that has ever happened to him in a long, long while by self sabotage too. God only knows how much Jason would’ve hated himself for doing such a heinous thing to someone as underserving of such treatment as you.

So when Dick asks him one day ‘how did you manage to get someone like them?’ Whilst gesturing to you as you talked with the likes of Duke, Stephanie and Cass and getting along. Jason couldn’t think of a clear answer that would be enough to satisfy his brother’s curiosity because how was he meant to answer that question without it sounding generic and unoriginal.

‘Did you use any offhanded tactics to get them to be in a relationship with you?’ Damian asks and Dick gives him a look, only for the younger of the two of them to shrug his shoulders. ‘It was only a simple question Grayson.’

‘Yeah, just not one you ask when your brother comes home for the first time in months, and in a relationship nonetheless with the epitome of sweetness.’ Dick replied before looking over to Jason who was looking over at you with soft yet protective look on his face, but before Dick could say anything about how nothing was going to happen to you whilst in the Wayne Manor, Jason had already found the answer he has been looking for the entire evening.

‘They saved me.’ In the moment he said those words you looked over at him, Dick and Damian and smiled brightly that it never failed to knock the air out of Jason’s lungs upon seeing it. His angel, his heaven sent, the face he is blessed to see first and last thing in the mornings and late nights where he gently scolds you for staying up for him before kisses you in gratitude for doing so anyway.

Dick seemed content with this answer and meanwhile Damian looked visibly indifferent, he made a noise that said that he was also satisfied with this answer, just in time too as you came over to Jason and subtly held his pinkie with your own as you kissed his cheek. ‘You didn’t to tell me how cool your siblings were Jay!’ You began when Dick decided to join in on it too as he looked as Jason, betrayed. ‘You didn’t? Why not? Is it because you want your lovely partner to always be biased towards you?’ He pouts.

You chuckled and patted Jason on the bicep as you addressed Dick. ‘I’m always going to be bias towards my Jason.’ You admitted, causing a wave of warmth to flood Jason’s entire body upon hearing your confident confession. ‘For he is simply the best man I have ever met and that will never change.’

‘Never?’ Dick asked.

‘Never.’ You answered.

‘Even if he may be in the wrong sometimes?’ Damian asked this time and you shrugged, still smiling. ‘Not all of us are perfect beings and that’s a reality I’d accept rather than one where we’re all without flaw, physical or otherwise.’ Jason felt as though he might combust from your words alone but managed to compose himself enough to press a kiss to your temple to whisper against it. ‘Thank you baby.’

‘Anything for you Jaybirdie.’ You responded in kind, feeling him take hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers together as you rested your head against his bicep as you both continued to talk with Damian and Dick.

Yours and Jason’s relationship may not be what many expected it to be or make logical but why should it when you and Jason were more than happy together?

#jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

[sweets4dolls]

if you do alastor smut, could you whip something up with bunny girl reader, like imagine reader went to the hazbin hotel instead of val for work ~🍖

𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝒻𝓁𝑒𝓈𝒽

pairing: alastor + bunny!f!reader

content warnings: smut, blood, mentions of religion, consuming of blood, kinda prey/predator relationship??, dubious consent, not proofread

notes: yayayayayyy alastor! :] ps y'all should most definitely try coke w cherry syrup next time you go out its sooooo gooddddd.

you were lost on the streets, wandering around and sniffling, up until charlie found you and brought you to her hotel, thinking that you would be a perfect fit after seeing your cute and pure soul all lost, looking like a bunny no less.

it didn't take long for you to catch Alastor's attention either - after all, it wasn't like the hotel was receiving people by the masses. so when you came in, cheeks puffed and lips chewed into a raw shade after having cried so much after having lost your way, and you were guided to the bar expected to order some type of alcohol, you didn't - you ordered a coke with cherry syrup.

from that moment alastor had watched husk put the ice into the cup, pour in the coke, and add the cherry syrup, he had kept a watchful eye on you as you played Charlie's games and bonded with the other people at the hotel throughout the day, ultimately pushing him to decide to invite you to dinner.

later into the night, you wandered into the elevator and walked into alastor's room, eyes wide as they wandered around, admiring the scenery and decor.

"sit down, my dear!" he exclaims with his consistent smile as he gestures to the empty seat across from him, watching you as you plop yourself down into it and look at the spread of desserts and meats he had arranged.

"sweets for someone as sweet as you!" he laughs with a radio cackle flowing through his transatlantic accented voice, "why, I wasn't sure if someone as delicate as you could handle something as heavy as raw meat."

"oh, thank you alastor!" you say as smile at him sweetly and your hands move to pick up a bottle of coke - of course. of course that was the thing your weak little wrist would pick up in that adorably meretricious fashion of yours, even before you bothered to peel off your sweater and place it on the back of the chair.

as the night moved on, alastor had you telling him all about your little life back on earth, how pious you had been, how dedicated you had been to the faith, how you just didn't know how you'd ended up here. the more comfortable you got, the more relaxed your posture became and the more you seemed to go on in tangents - not that alastor minded, you were very good entertainment.

"dear, before the night is over, I do want you to do one thing for me," he says, figure now leaning towards you across the table as you nod your head. "mhm, anything," just what he wanted to hear. "it just so happens that I've never had bunny flesh before - would you be so kind as to let me try some?"

your big eyes grow even wider as you hear this, before stuttering out, "oh, you want it to pass me to you? where is it?" nervously before alastor shakes his head, making his way over to you and placing a claw on your shoulder, "no my dear, I meant your flesh" he says, staring down at you like you were prey, "don't fret, I won't take a bite out of you or anything of the sort, ha, no!" he laughs out, "I would just like to sample the goods, if you will."

not wanting to seem rude, you nodded your head yes nervously , ears flopping about as you did - after he fed you dinner, it was the least that you could do, right?

"good girl" he says before placing a hand against your chest, holding you in place as he lowered his head down to the area between you shoulder and neck and pricked your skin open with his teeth, making you yelp as he did, tepid tears glossing your cheeks. as he licked at the wound, a warm claw came up to your cheek, cupping it as a thumb swiped at the tears.

he pulls back, licking smeared blood from his lips as he smiles at you, admiring the way your ears trembled and tail twitched. "would you like a taste?"

just as you part your lips to answer, his mouth finds yours, long tongue licking into your open one. you gasp lightly, making him chuckle as he leans towards you and gently pushes you from the seat to the ground so he can climb on top of you, removing his jacket as he does so.

blushing, you breathe heavily, your little head filled with anticipation and panties full of slick as he crawls on top of you, ripping your panties straight off. "don't worry darling, I just want a taste," he says gently kisses down your neck, lightly nipping and drawing blood as he does.

your body shudders as Alastor's mouth finds your clit, tongue tracing it lightly just before he pushes his fingers into your tight little hole, making you gasp. your hands scrape at the grass, getting dirt under your nails and on your arms as alastor continues to fuck you on his tongue and fingers.

"w-wait, alastor, I'm gonna-" he cuts you off mumbling from beneath your cunt, "I know darling," he states as his lips latch around your clit and suck, knowing just what you need as it sends your thighs shaking and tail twitching as you cum.

"you taste just as sweet as I expect," he says, grinning at you as he licks his fingers before giving you another open-mouthed kiss.

just as you catch your breathe, alastor is hiking your legs over his shoulders and undoing his pants as he presses fleeting kisses over his bite marks, distracting you until he starts rubbing the head of his cock over your sticky slit, slowly pushing it in.

you whimper as alastor coos in your ear, "I know, I know bunny," your eyes roll as he finally starts thrusting, hands in yours. his jaw clenches as you flutter around him, feeling every vein in his cock, making his hips speed up.

still sensitive from just cumming, you squirm beneath him as he hits it hard, getting the sweet spot inside you with each thrust. he ruts into you harshly, bruising your cervix as one of his hands massages your swollen clit.

sensing you getting close, he speeds up his movements until you're releasing on his cock, fucking you gently through your orgasm, cumming inside you a few moments later before giving you a soft kiss on your forehead.

"bunny might be my new favorite flavor of flesh"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor

[oofthwoods]

DEBUTANTE! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: derived from the french language, meaning “a first performance or showing.” the original word debutante referred to a new actress making her first appearance on the stage. or, the one where dreams come true in bahrain.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: just a little bonus, but i picture jasper as kingsley ben-adir (secret invasion, barbie). if this is the first work of mine you're checking, reader is a driver for porsche and the daughter of rubens barrichello!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 5.5k

NO ONE ASKED HER A QUESTION IN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.

Naturally, there were many questions about her. How did the drivers feel about a woman joining their ranks on the track? What were their thoughts on the growing number of female fans who were tuning in to watch Formula One, possibly due to the popularity of the documentary Drive to Survive or the historic moment of having the first female driver in decades?

She wasn't sure if this was better or worse than she anticipated. She vividly recalled her first press conference last year when she was still driving for ART Grand Prix. They asked her ridiculous questions like whether it was professional to wear skirts in the paddock (yes), who the most attractive driver was (herself, obviously), and even if her father was disappointed that she reached a milestone in motorsport before her older brother (Dudu, who raced with their father in Brazilian Stock Series. And no, he had already made it clear he was proud of both of them).

In the first few minutes, she assumed it was because she was a rookie. But then Oscar Piastri answered a fair share of questions while looking at her as if he didn't understand why people were treating her like an invisible presence. She would shrug her shoulders and the australian reluctantly answered reporters' inquiries.

She was sandwiched between Lewis, who seemed impatient as time dragged on without any questions directed towards her, and Max Verstappen, who quickly responded to his own questions and showed his eagerness to leave. Two rookies, two world champions, but only three drivers deemed important enough for interviews.

The world-renowned champion's frustration peaked when asked about his recent vacation activities.

"Is this a joke?" he asked. "Do you really want to know what I did on my vacation more than asking her interesting questions?" He gestured towards the girl beside him.

"It's alright, Lewis-"

"With all due respect, Hamilton," one of the reporters interjected with a sarcastic smirk on his face. "I can't imagine what kind of questions we could ask Miss Barrichello besides her makeup preferences or favorite clothing brands."

"How about the fact that I won four championships in a row as a rookie?" She responded with a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. She could accept to be ignored, but she refused to be underestimated. "Or maybe any questions about Porsche joining the grid this year?"

"I don't think winning a championship by such a small margin of points is anything to be praised." The reporter retorted. His expression implied that he wasn't expecting the young girl to comfort him, but he couldn't hold back.

"Really? So we should just say that the battle between Max and Lewis in 2021-" she indicated towards them "-was nothing worth celebrating? Such an uneventful year for this sport."

Verstappen leaned forward, observing the interaction between the girl and the reporter. This press conference just became much more interesting.

"Strong words from someone who has never stepped foot in a race car." He chimed in, agreeing with the youngest person in the room.

"That's not what I meant." The reporter stuttered, noticing the security chief slowly approaching him. The middle-aged man was one of many security guards in the paddock that had known the driver since she was a child, and she knew that one look in his direction and the man would be escorted out.

"Of course, of course," she replied sarcastically. "You mean it's not worth celebrating because a woman won, right? Please, if you're going to insult me, at least try to make it believable. Or better yet, don't speak if you have no idea what you're talking about"

The tension in the room was palpable as another reporter spoke up, "But Y/n, let's be real here. The races were mostly dominated by your teammate, Frederik Vesti or runner-up Felipe Drugovich. Your victories were purely tactical."

She leaned back in her chair with a smug smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? Yet somehow I managed to come out on top every time."

Verstappen nodded in agreement, "She's definitely got a point there."

The press room fell into an intense quiet, causing y/n to regret her decision to do this interview. She knew that this type of situation would become more common as her fame grew in the coming year. She also understood that Lewis would be praised for defending her while she would face criticism for simply standing up for herself against a man who was only doing his job.

The silence was broken by a female journalist in the back, hidden behind the larger, more muscular bodies of her male counterparts. But y/n could never mistake that blonde hair for anyone else. Mariana Becker was a veteran sports reporter, an icon in Brazilian journalism, and a role model for any woman breaking into a male-dominated field.

“I wish I had raised my hand earlier; I didn't realize it would take so long for someone to ask you a question,” she chuckled. "I don't think anyone will object to two questions, right?" The woman looked around the room, and the other interviewers avoided making eye contact with the veteran.

"So, y/n, you've been asked countless times about being a woman in a male-dominated world and the difficulties you face because of it. However, with such a successful junior career full of records, I honestly don't see the need to ask that question again. Instead, I'd like to focus on the positive aspects. What does it mean to you knowing that a new generation of girls can look up to you as an inspiration and be motivated to pursue their dreams?"

The girl's face lit up with gratefulness for the refreshing question and relief that she wouldn't have to answer the same question she had already answered countless times before.

"It's incredibly inspiring for me as well. Growing up in this environment, surrounded by racing cars, I was also discouraged from pursuing this career. But I can only imagine how much more difficult it must have been for young girls who were ridiculed just for dreaming of driving a go-kart. To know that I can play a role in encouraging them to follow their dreams without fear of judgment is truly exciting."

Lewis subtly raised his thumb in a gesture of approval while she chuckled.

"Excellent," said the reporter with a smile. "One more question, how did your father react when you told him you were entering the world of Formula 1?"

"He cried," y/n answered quickly, eliciting laughter from those in the room. "He's quite the crybaby, so I waited until we were together to share the news of my contract with Porsche. At first, he cried tears of joy, then fear, and eventually a mixture of both. That's when he realized that all three of his children were following in his footsteps as race car drivers and that he'd have to pay for everything he put his own father through."

The reporter chuckled along with y/n. Mari had interviewed Rubens back when he was in Formula 1, and remembers clearly how emotional the man always was. The conference went on like this for another half an hour, with y/n answering everything from her expectations for the upcoming season to her favorite tracks and how she dealt with pressure.

The balaclava, damp with sweat, clung tightly to her face as she stood at attention. Her race engineer, a tall black man with a buzzcut and a calm expression, waited patiently beside her. She smoothed down the folds of her crisp, red-and-black uniform, adorned with her country's flag on the sleeve.

"How was the conference?" Jasper asked.

The girl muttered something that Jasper couldn't make out. "That bad? Did they bring up the issue with wearing skirts in the paddock again?"

"They didn't ask anything at first, but then one guy made a comment about me winning the championship by a narrow margin of points not being worthy of praise. Except it wasn't even a narrow margin; Felipe finished about sixty points behind me., and Fred was more than a hundred points behind, despite driving the same car as me" She complained.

Jasper winced. The relationship between the engineer and the driver had been amazing during pre-season tests with the man acting like a friend and a mentor, and they had found a groove to envy.

"You'll need to come up with a strategy for dealing with these reporters," Jasper advised.

"I already have one."

"Really?" He glanced at the clock on the track and realized that time was running out. He handed her the helmet with both hands. She grinned and smoothly put it on. The colors of her country's flag stood out against the black and red of the car, making it impossible to miss.

"Yes. WWJD."

"What does that stand for?"

"What Would Jenson Do. Originally, it was "What Would Kimi Do," but I quickly realized that Kimi would just tell everyone to go fuck themselves, and I can't exactly do that yet."

The garage was a whirlwind of activity, with mechanics frantically making last-minute adjustments and drivers strapping into their cars. The scent of gasoline and burning rubber wafted through the air, adding to the excitement and tension that crackled in the atmosphere.

Everywhere she looked, there were people moving with purpose, each one focused on their individual tasks to ensure a successful first qualifying session of the season. The roar of engines being revved and tools clanging against metal filled her ears, drowning out any other sound. It was a chaotic but exhilarating scene as the countdown to the race began.

"Why not "What Would Rubens Do"?" He asked.

She chuckled. "My dad is too nice. In his only fight in his entire Formula 1 career, he told the mechanic who wanted to fight him to get someone else because he was too small."

Jasper's phone buzzed insistently, jolting him out of his thoughts and reminding him that only five minutes remained until the start of Q1. After the last few adjustments from the mechanics, y/n managed to squeeze into her car and secure her seatbelt. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her body as she prepared for the intense competition ahead.

Jasper rested his arms on the halo. "Don't forget what we discussed earlier," he reminded her. "In Q1, six cars will be eliminated, followed by six more in Q2. This means that the top ten fastest cars will battle for pole position. Based on our data, we are definitely faster than Alpha Tauri, Alfa Romeo, Haas, and Williams - a total of eight cars."

The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes glued to the man as he continued. "At the very least, you and Mick should be able to make it into Q2. We're not sure how Alpine and McLaren are doing, but they don't seem to be as quick as us." He gestured towards the track outside where the other teams were busy with their own preparations. "But we can't let our guard down. Anything can happen during quali." The tension was palpable as they both waited for their turn on the track.

"So, we're trying for Q3 then?" She inquired, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and determination.

"Officially, I was instructed to tell you that Q2 is sufficient, but we can't know our full potential until we're on the track."

A sly grin appeared on her face, hidden behind her helmet. She pushed down her visor, ready to give it her all. "Well, I say let's aim for Q3 then. I want to see what this car can really do."

A gentle laugh escaped Jasper's lips, his eyes shining with admiration. "That's the spirit, echo. Show them what you're made of."

With one final nod, y/n shifted her focus, tuning out the noise and commotion of the pit lane. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, using all her senses to ground herself in the present moment. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled her nostrils as she visualized the track ahead. The deafening roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds, sending shivers down her spine.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio in her ear, sounding like a distant robot. "Radio check," he said, his tone serious and business-like.

She adjusted gloves as she responded, "I hear you loud and clear." Her hands were tightly gripped on the steering wheel as she followed Logan Sargeant's Williams out of the pit lane. It was a tight squeeze with the Porsche garage being the newest addition to the grid. She bit her lip, hoping that their placement in the pit lane wouldn't cause any trouble in the future.

"Great. Warm up your tires and then do a flying lap. We want to get a better idea of our potential and avoid any possible disruptions from a Red Flag," Jasper instructed.

"Roger that," she replied, trying to keep her breathing steady as cars started to move around her. She prayed that the onboard camera wouldn't catch her trembling hands as she prepared for her first real lap on the track.

The engine roared to life as she pressed down on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel with determination. The car surged forward, its tires screeching against the asphalt, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses as she focused on the task at hand.

The wind whipped through, carrying with it a symphony of sounds—engines revving, tires squealing, and the distant cheers of the crowd. Her heart pounded in sync with the rhythm of the track, each beat pulsating through her chest.

As the cars whizzed by, she made a conscious effort to stay out of their way while completing her out lap. It was her first Grand Prix, and she wasn't about to receive an impeding penalty. She could feel the engine roaring to life and her car responding with precision, its tires getting ready to set a time that would hopefully secure her from elimination in the initial round.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio once again. "Alright, you're good to go. Try your best," he encouraged, his voice filled with unwavering support.

"Copy." She smirked.

The pre-tests and free practice had prepared her for what was to come, but nothing could have truly prepared her for the exhilaration of sitting behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car. The engine purred like a fierce beast, ready to unleash its power at any moment. The sleek body of the car hugged the track, cutting through the air with precision and grace.

As she approached the first turn, she braked hard, shifting her weight to navigate the corner with precision. The G-forces pressed against her body, threatening to tear her away from reality. But she held firm, refusing to let anything distract her from the objective ahead.

She feathered the throttle, feeling the car respond to her slightest movements. The tires gripped the track, providing a sense of stability as she accelerated out of the turn, leaving her the other car trailing behind. Y/n's focus was unwavering, her eyes fixated on the next set of corners, mentally calculating her approach.

The flying lap was over in an instant, and the sound of the cheering crowd filled her ears as she crossed the finish line and set her initial time.

"Way to go, girl!" Jasper's voice crackled through the radio. "You've got P8, I repeat, P8. We're safely into Q2, but stay on track just in case. Prepare for another quick lap."

"How did Mick do?" she asked eagerly.

"P10, 0.78 seconds behind you," Jasper's voice was filled with pride as he responded. Despite his efforts to maintain professionalism, they were both rookies in the Formula 1 world, even if in different roles. "I got a great feeling about us, Barrichello. This could be the beginning of something legendary."

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as she waited for the race to begin and she started to feel claustrophobic inside her cramped driver's room.

Finally, unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, she stepped outside into the bustling garage. The sight of her team, clad in matching uniforms and working tirelessly on their cars, brought a small smile to her face. As she made her way through the maze of mechanics and equipment, she was greeted with reassuring smiles and words of encouragement.

This was not just her first race, but also the team's inaugural race. In a way, they were all rookies, feeling the pressure and nerves just as she was.

Standing outside, it was clear that several eyes were on her. Some, like the veteran Ferrari mechanics who had known her since she was a little girl, flashed comforting smiles and gave her thumbs up, wishing her the best of luck. Others raised their eyebrows with skepticism, as if they believed her presence on the grid was some sort of elaborate prank that hadn't been revealed yet.

Amidst a sea of red and black uniforms, the bright green outfit of the two-time world champion stood out prominently. Fernando paid no mind to the curious glances from his mechanics as he made his way confidently towards the girl.

"You're not allowed in here, Alonso." She teased, playfully crossing her arms in a gesture that made her seem much older than she was.

"Is that how it is now? You qualify in the Top 10 in your first race and all of a sudden I'm just Alonso, not Nando?" He responded with a chuckle. Clutching his heart dramatically, he leaned back as if struck by sudden agony. "What happened to all our pizza days? They meant nothing to you?"

The character she was playing no longer felt right to her, and the words she spoke didn't align with the expression on her face. She fought to suppress a smile as she continued, "That person you knew, Alonso? She is gone now."

As the man approached, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over her. His dark hair and intense brown eyes were etched into her memory, but it was his infectious smile that brought back a flood of childhood memories.

Fernando rested his hands on her shoulders and held onto his helmet, which puzzled her. With only a few minutes left before the race began, he could have easily stored it in his own garage rather than carrying it around. But she pushed those thoughts aside as his gaze softened and he spoke.

"You were the size of a flea when I met you," he said with a chuckle. She smiled at the memory of their first encounter. She had been just six years old at the time, tagging along with her father to one of his races. She remembered being mesmerized by the speed and energy of the cars on the track, but also feeling a little intimidated by the loud noises and bustling crowds.

But then she saw him – Alonso – standing tall and proud in his racesuit. He had noticed her watching him from behind the fence and had flashed her a tight smile. Somehow, from that one interaction, she had become a fan. From then on, whenever she visited the track with her father, she would always seek out Fernando.

Initially, the Spaniard couldn't comprehend why the young girl found him so intriguing. He knew he was talented and quick on the race track, but children were not his forte. Alonso would often try to distance himself from the girl, offering only friendly waves and smiles. However, when she presented him with a drawing of himself on the podium with a trophy (which he still keeps today), everything changed.

"You used to avoid me like the plague," she recalled.

"That's not entirely true," Fernando denied, but quickly changed his tune when the girl raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I wasn't too fond of being followed around by a little girl. Can you blame me? If anything happened to you, I would have to deal with your father, Michael, Kimi, and all the mechanics that you had wrapped around your finger."

He became somewhat of figure between an older brother and a father figure to her, always ready with words of encouragement and advice.

Now here they were, both grown up and about to race against each other for the very first time.

"I can't believe we're finally racing against each other," she said with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

"It's about time," Fernando replied with a smirk. "I've been waiting for this moment since you beat me in go-karts."

A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the moment. During one of his trips with her family to cheer her on during her junior career, they decided to have some fun and race go-karts. She had managed to beat him by mere thousandths of a second, and she made sure to remind him of it constantly afterwards.

"What's on the agenda for today, Mija?" He asked, looking around at the girl's garage.

"Hah, like I would share that with you. I love you, Nando, but now we're competitors." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're just trying to take advantage because we're close."

"You got me." He chuckled, knowing it wasn't entirely true.

She sighed and crossed her arms with a hesitant expression. "Rule number one is to not crash into Mick. Number two is to avoid crashing into anyone else. Our team isn't expecting a stellar performance, so if we can maintain our starting positions, both cars will score points. That's our main goal."

"Oh, come on. Don't you want to try overtaking someone?" he prodded.

Y/N laughed. "Why? You want to see me in your rearview mirror?"

"Of course I do," he admitted. "Competing for a win with you would be incredible."

He pushed his helmet towards the girl, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Confused, she tilted her head in question. “I appreciate the gift, but I think you’ll need it today.”

Fernando laughed, memories flooding back to him. “Remember when your dad retired and you started coming to races with me?”

The memories flooded back, of her father's days in the high-stakes world of Formula 1. Though he had since retired, Fernando still managed to convince Rubens to allow her to travel with him to races closer to her home, and sometimes even to the grand prix in his homeland.

She quickly caught on to his request and playfully darted away from him before snagging the helmet. It had become a tradition since she was ten years old, and Fernando had unofficially taken on the role of her godfather. She used to do this same routine with her own father, so it felt natural to continue with the spaniard. He stood there, slightly perplexed, wondering if he had said or done something wrong. But just moments later, the young girl returned with her own helmet in hand.

"Wouldn't it be fair for you to do the same for me this time?" she asked playfully.

The two exchanged helmets and planted a kiss on the part of the helmet that would soon cover each other's foreheads.

"Stay safe, Nando"

"You too. Give us hell"

"It's an easy overtake for Barrichello in the Porsche, and she takes the position from Lance Stroll in the Aston Martin!" David Croft's voice rings across the circuit, and the crowd roars, the flags from her country and Germany flying around.

"Great job!" The voice of her race engineer appears in her ear, breaking through her intense concentration. "Russell is 1.2 ahead, close the gap to be able to use DRS when it is enabled."

"Copy" she nods, instinctively, her eyes never leaving the track ahead. She knows what she needs to do, and she pushes her car to its limits, weaving through the curves and straights with precision and skill.

As she closes the gap between her and the british driver, she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She's in her element, in the midst of the intense competition that she lives for.

"0.7. Go for it, elbows out" Jasper said again.

The cheers of the pit crew resounded in her ears as she used the extra boost to overtake the Mercedes. It was a challenge to defend against George's attempts at whiplash and reclaim her position, but once they were off the main straight, she managed to create a considerable gap between them.

The rest of the race flew by in a blur. The girl lost track of her position, constantly overtaking some cars only to be overtaken shortly after. However, Jasper's encouraging words kept her going.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio as she approached the final stretch of the race. "Virtual safety car, slow down," he instructed.

She quickly checked her rearview mirror, looking for her teammate. "Is it ours?" she asked.

"No, it's Leclerc in the Ferrari," Jasper replied, "which puts us in fifth place."

She could see Hamilton was more than five seconds behind, and the yellow flag meant that Alonso was slowing down ahead of her.

"As soon as the VSC is lifted, you'll have a clear shot to overtake," Jasper added.

Who would have thought that she would be right on Fernando's heels after all?

After a few laps of caution due to the previous incident, the green flags were waved and she wasted no time in accelerating towards the Aston Martin driven by the Spaniard. She steadily closed the gap between them until she was right behind him. However, just as she was about to make a move to pass him, he outmaneuvered Carlos Sainz's Ferrari.

In a swift and calculated maneuver, she positioned her car on the inside of Sainz, who seemed too focused on reclaiming his position to check his mirrors. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse of attention, she quickly overtook him.

Jasper's voice was filled with excitement as he shouted, "That's it, echo! What a fantastic move!" She could almost hear the smile in his tone. "Alonso is already ten seconds ahead, so concentrate on defending now."

The final laps seemed like a blur, the girl steadily increasing the gap between her and the Ferrari with each lap.

"It's a flawless performance from Porsche, with both cars scoring points on this historic day. Mick Schumacher equals his best career finish with an incredible P6, and Y/N Barrichello takes fourth place, becoming the first woman to score in a Formula 1 race since Lella Lombardi and achieving the highest position for a woman in history!"

The sound of the bustling cheers from the Porsche garage fills her ears as she struggled to park the car with trembling hands. “Unbelievable! P4, y/n, P4! We scored 21 points and Mick got the fastest lap. What a start,” Jasper exclaims over the radio.

She stepped out of the car on shaky legs and is immediately greeted by Carlos, who had parked his car behind hers. “Where did you come from?” he asked with a chuckle. “I was trying to overtake Fernando, and suddenly you were right beside me.”

She took off her helmet and balaclava, her hair damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead and neck. She culdn't help but laugh. "Next time, check your mirrors," She teases her good-naturedly.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. The sweat that coated both of them didn't matter, nor did the fact that she still needed to weigh herself. She squeezed Mick even tighter and they both seemed too overjoyed to let go.

He took a step back but kept his arms around her. "Fourth place in your first race! I told you not to worry," the German exclaimed proudly.

"And look who's talking with the fastest lap!" She laughed in agreement. "We did it, Mick. We fucking did it."

A bottle of water suddenly appeared in her line of sight, and she turned to thank the person who handed it to her. To her surprise, it was Lewis with a smile on his face.

"If you had just overtaken one more person, you would have joined the club," he joked, pointing to Kevin Magnussem, who appeared to be deep in conversation with his teammate. "It was quite a race for the two of you."

"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to end up anywhere higher than where I started, so P4 is already a great achievement," she replied with a laugh as she took the cold bottle from him. The girl then turned to Lewis again and asked about his own race.

"P7. Mick managed to pass me on the last lap," he responded, glancing over at the young driver who chuckled in response.

The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as y/n made her way to the weighing machines. She couldn't believe it, a P4 finish on her debut race. It seemed like a dream come true.

She stepped onto the scales, trying to calm her racing heart. The number flashed on the screen, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Phew, just made it," she muttered to herself.

Grabbing a towel to wipe off the sweat from her face, she quickly discarded her race suit at her hips, and made her way to her garage in her white fireproofs.

To an outsider, it might have seemed like the team had just won a world championship, not a P6 and P4. People were clapping her on the back and embracing Mick, and she struggled to decipher the various voices exclaiming with joy.

Jasper appeared in front of her with a bottle of champagne in hand. "Congratulations y/n, you did amazing out there!" he exclaimed before popping open the bottle and spraying champagne everywhere.

She laughed as some of the bubbly liquid hit her skin. "Thanks Jasper! I couldn't have done it without your perfect strategy. Great call with the tyres"

He grinned at her before turning serious. "But seriously y/n, you did a great job out there. We're all so proud of you." The rest of the team joined them in cheers and congratulations.

Before they could continue their conversation, Adrian, the team principle, arrived at their garage looking ecstatic. "Great job everyone! A double-points finish for our debut race, this is just the beginning." He raised his glass of champagne before taking a sip.

Y/n looked around and couldn't help but feel proud of her team. They had come a long way since their first tests together. And now here they were, competing in one of the most prestigious racing championships in the world.

Adrian turned to her with a smile. "Y/n, I must say you exceeded all expectations today. You have proven yourself as a valuable addition to our team." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Keep up the good work."

She couldn't help but blush at his words and nod gratefully. This was everything she had ever dreamed of - to be part of a successful racing team and make her mark in the sport.

As the celebrations continued, y/n couldn't help but think about how far she had come. From fighting for sponsorships to competing against some of the best drivers in the world, it felt like a dream come true.

But amidst all the excitement and joy, there was still one thing weighing on her mind - her family. She missed them terribly and wished they could be here to witness her success.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

"Muito orgulhoso de você filhota. Eu sabia que você ia arrasar! Me liga quando acabar tudo aí" — PAPAI. (so so proud of you, baby. i knew you would rock it! call me once you're done with everything there.)

Soon after, her older brother's name appeard on her phone as well. A quick congrats was followed by a video. Tapping on it, she couldn't contain the tears as she watched her father by the TV, holding tightly their flag and exploding in joy as the checkered flag was waved and his daughter finished in fourth.

He erupted with happiness, leaping and embracing her siblings and close friends who had gathered to witness her debut. He would excitedly point towards the television, shouting with pride, "There she is! My little girl!"

A big smile crept onto her face as she quickly replied back with an update on how things were, and a promise to video call her family as soon as she was cleared from the media.

"Time for the boring stuff now. Ready for the interviews?" Mick pulled her out of her thoughts. He had his phone on his hand, and she imagined he was also communicating with his family. "I can go first, if you want."

She took a deep breath, and smiled. "It's okay, i'll go. There's nothing they can say that could ruin my day. Not anymore."

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader, @fanficweasley, @stinkyjax, @namgification, @judespoision, @cha-hot, @disneyprincemuke, @itsjustkhaos, @trouble-sistar, @ihateyougunthersteiner, @treehouse-mouse, @cherry-piee, @fangirl125reader, @cassie0sstuff

#f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 scenarios #f1 x reader #fem!driver reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 scenarios #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagines #f1 fanfic #x reader #formula one x reader #driver reader #f1 x fem!driver #fem!driver #mick schumacher x reader #fernando alonso x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #⋆⠀᰷ ֹ 🍙 ˓ the echo ﹗

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 1)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: When Vox proves incapable of cutting Valentino out of his sex life despite his many reassurances, you decide to break it off with him and leave for good. He doesn’t take it so well.

Just to be clear, reader is an artificial intelligence demon, looks super realistic and human-like, but is actually composed of nanotechnology. She was human once though, like all of the other sinners.

INSPIRED BY THIS POST

Part 2—> Chapter Index

"Y/n?" Charlie poked her head through your door. "There's uh, someone here to see you."

You narrowed your eyes, rising from your bed. A bone-weary sigh escaped you. It was obvious who your supposed "visitor" was. "Did you tell him I'm busy?"

Charlie pursed her lips, looking down. Great, so that meant he was throwing a temper tantrum. And she wanted you to sort him out.

"Alright, fine," you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I'm coming." She was generous enough to let you stay, after all. The least you could do was clean up your messes.

When you finally reached the main floor, Vox and Alastor looked about two seconds away from clawing each other's faces off. Cyan blue electricity was sparking along Vox's entire body, and Alastor's shadows curled dangerously behind him, ready to attack at his call.

Seeing him made a hot fury like no other claw its way up your throat. "What the fuck are you doing here?" You growled lowly, balling your fists at your sides.

At the sound of your voice, Vox immediately broke away from Alastor, a giant smile spreading across his screen. "Sweetheart! There you are!"

You stormed up to him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him harshly into a corner. You let go of him once you were sufficiently out of earshot of the others, crossing your arms and leveling him with a furious glare. "You have five seconds to explain yourself."

"Okay, let's just calm down for a second here," he chuckled, but it was an empty sound. "Is it really that weird for me to want to check up on you? After all, you kind of just disappeared," his smile strained.

"Has it ever occurred to you that the reason you couldn't find me was because I don't want to see you?" You smiled sardonically, patience running thin.

"Uh, what?" He laughed, but his smile was frozen. "Why would you not want to see me?"

That was the last fucking straw. "Are you that fucking delusional, Vox?" You snapped, poking him harshly in the chest. "When I said I was done, I meant it. This," you gestured between the two of you. "Is over. I'm done."

Vox twitched, electricity sparking off sporadically from his antennae. He stared at you in stunned silence, his breathing starting to pick up speed as he processed your words. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were being untruthful, and when he found none, he glanced up at the small crowd of residents and staff gathered, only to lock eyes with a smug Alastor.

Vox's screen glitched, his features twisting in a rage. "So you're replacing me with the radio fucker now, is that it?"

"Oh, really?" You narrowed your eyes. "Just like you replaced me with Valentino?"

"That's different," Vox gritted out.

"Is it?"

"Yes, for one, Val isn't some archaic cannibalistic fucker with a vendetta against me!"

"Who has the vendetta against who here? Cause it seems like you're the one who can't let things go." You watched him splutter on his bullshit for a few seconds before you shook your head in exasperation, the pounding pressure increasing at your temples. "Alright, that's it, we're done here. Get out."

"Y/n," he narrowed his eyes. "You need to think about this."

"Oh I've had plenty of time to think," you grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to bare your teeth menacingly. "Now get out before I put a goddamn virus in your software Vox!" Your face pixelated from rage at the end of your sentence. You let him go with a harsh shove.

For a long moment nobody spoke, a tense silence blanketing over the two of you. You glared at him venomously, chest still heaving from your outburst. And him, he was looking at you like he'd never seen you before. Good, you thought spitefully. It's finally getting through to him.

Vox's mouth hardened into a thin line, his sharp claws nearly drawing blood from his palms. "Why here?"

You closed your eyes. "It’s not a forever thing. I just—I need to be away from everything for a little while, okay?" Everything that we've built together. Reminders of you. "No flashy shit, no fast life, no technology—"

"You're an A.I. model," he said dully.

"Yeah well, you win some you lose some," you sighed, rubbing at your temples. "Look, I don't want to say it again. Leave Vox, I'm serious."

For a hot second, it looked like you were ripping his entire world apart and stomping on the broken pieces, the way he looked at you so lost, before he hastily pulled himself back together. "Fine," he spat out. It sounded like it physically hurt him to say it.

He lifted his chin, adjusted his lapels, and stormed out of the hotel, slamming the door so hard it blew straight off of its hinges, blue sparks of electricity still sizzling from it.

For a few seconds, a thick tension suffocated the room, as everyone took the time to process the shit show they'd just witnessed.

"Well, that was fun!" Alastor's cheery voice punctuated the silence. You glared at him tiredly.

***

If you thought that he would give up like you so nicely asked, you were sadly mistaken.

Turned out it was just a pre-game warm up for this asshole.

At least thrice a week, he made sure to fuck up your peace somehow. Last time it was spray painting the entire hotel electric blue (how, you didn't even want to know). The time before that, it was trying to sneak some of his peeping gadgets in through the window. And the time before that, it was putting your name up on every billboard in the goddamn city with a red heart next to it.

Now, you stood incredulously in front of half of the hotel. As in, the other half was missing. Blown off by a fucking missile. You couldn't make this shit up if you tried.

"What the fuck is going on?" You gritted out, before taking a deep, calming breath.

Vox's electric laughter rang out from a speaker of unknown source. You turned angrily to face the open air.

"Pathetic," he jeered. "You still want to shack up with these losers, Y/n?"

You shook your head slowly, laughing in disbelief. "Wow," you said sarcastically. "You really showed us, didn't you? Feel better about yourself now?"

You punctuated your sentence with a glare, before turning and storming towards the remaining half of the building.

Vox watched you from twenty different angles across his screens. The moment you turned your back, his wide, toothy grin dropped, eyes squeezing shut. He slammed mute on his microphone.

“FUCK!” He banged a fist on the table, breathing heavily. It had been two weeks already, and you still hadn’t come back to him. He was getting desperate now.

A quick glance at the screen showed Alastor’s glitching picture. The radio bastard snapped his fingers with a raised brow, the missing half of the hotel repairing itself instantly.

“Fucking show off,” Vox growled raggedly.

He needed to change tactics. And fast.

***

Nothing. He had nothing.

No plans, no blueprints, no smart and suave moves to get you back.

Every scenario he ran through his head would inevitably end with you walking away from him. If only he could hypnotize you like with everyone else—but you were a tech demon, just like him. More advanced, even. Your firewalls were just too strong.

Vox poured himself another glass of scotch, solemnly glaring up at the ceiling in frustration.

A clawed hand clasped his shoulder, making him grit his teeth.

“You’re looking a little tense, Cariño,” Valentino purred, trailing his fingers up Vox’s neck. “I can help with that~”

Vox shrugged him off, annoyed. “Not in the mood, Val.”

But Valentino was undeterred. “Is this about Y/n?” He murmured, knowing he hit the nail on the head when the other demon tensed considerably. “What’s so special about that bitch anyway, hm? Is it the pussy? You know I’ve got whores lined up for you, baby. Just say the word and—”

“Fuck off, Val!” Vox exploded, electricity sparking in his eye. “I don’t want just any random bitch from the street, okay?! I want Y/n. I want her back,” he spat miserably.

Valentino went silent, his face twisting into a cruel expression. “Don’t you understand?” He growled. “She left you. Betrayed you. And she’s not coming back, ever. The sooner you see that and stop wasting your time, the better.”

He turned away, his heels clacking against the marble floors until the double doors swung closed behind him.

Vox let out a frustrated yell, arcs of electricity shooting out from him and shattering his expensive collection of drinking glasses to smithereens.

***

A tap sounded at your window, making you tense.

Slowly you approached it, generating a pistol from your nanotech and holding it tightly to your chest. You peered out of the blinds, only to find your ex dangling from the window sill.

“Holy shit!” You screeched, jumping back.

“A lil’ help?” he grinned lazily, reaching out for you. You grasped his hand, hauling him inside of your room.

The unmistakably pungent scent of alcohol invaded your senses, making your wrinkle your nose.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you drunk?” You dragged a hand down your face.

“No,” he hiccuped, shaking his head vehemently, which caused him to lose balance. You grabbed his shoulders, righting him before he fell and broke his screen.

“Oh yeah,” his face lit up in realization, before he reached behind him, pulling out a bouquet of slightly squashed roses. “For you,” he slurred, offering them proudly.

You looked at them in exasperation, before taking them gently from his hands. Bringing them up to your face, you closed your eyes, sniffing them slightly. A sweet floral scent filled your senses as you regarded them.

“They’re pretty,” you remarked quietly.

“Yeah,” he grinned, your eyes flickering up to catch his. “But you’re prettier.” At your lack of reaction, his grin faltered, and he looked down.

“I…” he started, swaying slightly. “I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. “Don’t do this.”

“Please come home,” he continued, expression drooping sorrowfully. He clasped your hand, looking up at you pleadingly. “I’ll…I’ll do better, I promise.”

The ache in your heart grew almost unbearable the more you looked at him, so you averted your gaze. “Why don’t you ever say that when you’re sober?”

Vox let go of your hand, sliding down the wall until he landed on his ass. “Scared,” he mumbled.

You crouched down in front of him, lifting his hanging head from his arms. “Of what?” You said gently.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and the raw emotion nearly stole your breath away. “You still won’t want me.”

“Vox…” You closed your eyes, pained.

“Come home,” he whispered hollowly. “Please.”

“You know I can’t do that,” you said thickly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He looked at you sadly, but resigned. “Yeah, I know,” he lowered his screen back into his arms. “…miss you,” he trailed off quietly, before soft whistling snores could be heard.

You dropped your face in your hands, breathing raggedly. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. You had almost fucking caved.

After a moment to compose yourself, you searched his pockets, pulling out his phone (he didn’t even change his password) and dialing a familiar number.

“What the fuck do you want now, Vox?” An irritated feminine voice answered the line.

“Velvette,” you said cooly. “I need a favor.”

****

Part 2 —> Chapter Index

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox hazbin #vox x oc #vox x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette #charlie morningstar #alastor hazbin hotel #sad boi hours #jealousy #more jealousy #bad decisions #Reader needs a hug #seriously why was I so mean to them #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin velvette #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino is an asshole #so is everyone in hell but fuck him in particular

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.2k words

fic masterlist previous part pt seven next part

angst but kinda fluffy? straight after; mention of past violence (minor) — you wanted to know what those spanish sentences miguel made you say meant, him having kept that to himself. and when you do, having scouted miles, you’re left…well…shocked. your friends are also left shocked wondering who asked you to say those things. when you go to question miguel about it you find him in a state you’ve never seen him in before.

You had desperately wanted to translate the Spanish Miguel had chosen not to tell you. So much so, that you had began to scout HQ for a Spanish native speaker. You were too prideful to use your phone for translation, plus Miguel said nothing on not asking someone.

You remember Miles saying his mum was Hispanic. Even if his Spanish wasn’t top notch you’re sure he’ll understand at least a few words. Understand the sentences Miguel made you say.

You spot Pav talking with some other spider variants, using large hand gestures. "Pav!" You call, walking up to him.

He shifts his gaze to you, a smile soon following. “Y/n. How are you?”

You smile. “Good…yeah, no I’m good. I was just wondering if you knew where Miles was?”

“Oh.” He spins. “I swear I saw him over there.” He points in a random direction. “…now he’s gone. Maybe with Gwen.” He nudges you, raising his brows. You chuckle, understanding the meaning of those raised brows.

“Well, this will only take a moment. I just need translation for something.”

“Translation? To what language?” Pav asks.

“From Spanish to English. And I heard Miles knows a bit.”

“Ah…wait, but doesn’t Miguel fully speak it?” Pav pauses. “Yeah, he’d know a lot more than Miles.”

You nod. “He just won’t tell me.” You mutter under your breath.

“What was that?” Pav asks, brows furrowed.

You look back up. “Miguel’s just kind of busy right now.” You had no idea if he was or not. “And so I thought Miles might be free.”

“I see.” Pav nods. “Come on, I’ll help you find him.” Pav begins to head down one of the paths in the communal area where bunches of spider variants sat and stood talking.

“Miles!” Pav called out to nowhere in particular. “Miles!?”

“Is yelling his name really gonna help?” Your brows furrow.

“I like to think yelling will conjure up the whole ‘spider-sense’ thing.” Pav says, still gazing around. “Wait, maybe I need to sound more in distress.”

You chuckle, looking around. And that’s when you spot Miles and Gwen. “Miles!” You walk over with a smile. Pav is hot on your heels.

Miles turns, and copies your smile. “Y/n, hey.”

“Okay look, I’m sorry to ask this but can you translate something for me?” You ask, hopeful.

Miles tilts his head slightly. “Yeah, sure. As long as it isn’t French, or Dutch, or Russian. Or practically any language I don’t know.”

Your smile widens. “No, no. None of those. It’s just Spanish.”

“Oh.” Miles stands straighter. “I’ll warn you I don’t know a heck of amount. But I can give it go.”

“Thank you.” You grow more excited in way. All of last night you had been thinking about what you had said, really trying not to just roll over and grab your phone.

“Okay, so it’s two sentences.” You begin. Miles nods. “The first one is…’Me encantaría usar…tu cama para otras…cosas’.” You say it somewhat slowly, making sure you got it right.

When you look back to Miles, he’s staring at you blinking. You stare back. “What?” You ask.

“Um.” He scratches the back of his head. “I’m probably hearing it wrong.” He mutters to himself before he’s looking back to an expectant you.

“What was the second one?” He asks, a little more curious this time.

“Uh…’¿No crees que…me vería bonita atrapada entre…tus sábanas?’”

Now miles is staring at you. You eye him, brows furrowed. “What does it mean?”

He coughs. “Who said that to you?”

“Oh, no I said it to someone.” You answer. “Well, they asked me to say it…”

“You said it someone…” he drifts off, slightly gulping.

“What? Is it…bad?” Your brows are further furrowed. “Come on, Miles, please. I’ve been dying to know what it means all of last night.”

“Well, the first one…it means ‘I’d love to use your bed for other things’.” He mutters it out extremely quickly. That you think you don’t catch it right.

“What?”

“And the second one means ‘don’t you think I’d look pretty trapped in your sheets?’.” Miles’ has looked away, scratching the back of his neck again, clearly a fraction flustered.

This time you’re staring at him, or more so through him. Then you blink. “What?” You repeat stupidly. That can’t be right. Why did miguel ask you to say something about his bed…

Now you weren’t dumb you were just…in shock. Because how does that make sense. And as the words settle in your mind a little more, you begin to feel the familiar burn in your stomach.

Recently your skin had begun to feel hot. In specific scenarios, around a specific someone. Every moment that he had touched you in some way you had either been injured, or fainting, so you hadn’t realised the reactions in the moment. But now, having your mind clear and your body healthy enough your skin grows prickly.

Then there was the touches on your chin…

At first you thought that they were a form of showing his superiority. It seemed like something he’d do. But when you really thought about it, you realised that he wasn’t grabbing Peter’s face like that, he wasn’t leaning over a chair that Gwen was sitting at.

Now you’ve grown hot. And your cheeks are probably bright red, considering how Pav is eyeing you. “Um.” You nod. You don’t know why you’re nodding. You just need to do something that isn’t stare off into space.

“Who, um, asked you to say that?” Gwen asks.

You shift your gaze to her, still slightly stuck in your own head. You felt the urge to fan yourself, but realised how implicating that would seem. Miguel got you to say that stuff? That seemed to be a repeating question in your head.

“Oh, uh, nobody.” You didn’t really want to tell them that it was Miguel. You felt it would put pressure on something that you were sure wasn’t even something. It wasn’t…right?

But now as you quickly thank miles and skim past them, your mind is whirring. Did Miguel…? You press your lips together at the thought, unbuttoning the first button of your dress shirt. You were sure you were reading into it. Though…part of you was actually hoping the underlying meaning you were thinking of was the truth.

You were even slightly shocked at yourself at this revelation. It’s as if it had always been on the tip of your tongue. Not falling off because Miguel is well…Miguel.

;;

“What was that about?” Pav asks, watching your leaving form. Gwen watches you go as well, eyes narrowing in her own inspection.

Miles was still going over the sentences in his head, really double checking he got them right. “Yeah…nah, that’s right.” He mutters. “My translations right.”

“Who asked her—“

“Asked who what?” Hobie appeared, clearly just back from a mission, as he leaned against Miles, resting his arm on his shoulder.

“Y/n.” Gwen says. “She asked Miles to translate something for her.”

“See, I knew this guy would be helpful.” Hobie slightly shakes Miles’ shoulders.

“I think someone has a crush on y/n.” Pav says, making Hobie shift his gaze to him.

“Who?” Miles asks, suddenly interested in the small ordeal.

Pav shrugs, but Hobie shakes his head, scoffing. Pav hadn’t seen you and Miguel interact a hell of a lot. Gwen didn’t pay that much attention to people’s gazes, and Miles was well…new. So, maybe Hobie could give them a break, but he still couldn’t believe how oblivious they were.

Hobie began to figure out Miguel’s little crush on you when Miguel had called him in for a last minute mission that Miguel could have easily done himself. He hadn’t needed Hobie.

And when Miguel’s jaw clenched at the mention of how he was supposed to be hanging out with you, Hobie began to clock on.

“Come on, you lot.” Hobie says staring at them. “Tell me, who speaks Spanish here? Fluently?”

Gwen looks down, thinking. “Miguel.”

Hobie nods. “Uh huh.” He presses, seeing their slightly furrowed brows. “Oh bloody hell, you lot are thick.”

“Oh…” Pav mutters. “Oh!” He realises, and Hobie gestures to him, sighing in relief.

“Thank anarchy.” He mutters, thankful one person caught on.

“Miguel likes y/n?!” Pav practically exclaims, earning a few side glances from other spider variants.

“It’d seem so.” Hobie smirks.

;;

Later that evening, you stood, not meaning to feel as flushed as you were. Standing in front of Miguel's bedroom door, you felt hot, your breathing quickening. After having found out what he got you to say—and having gone through the stages of confusion, denial and then shock—you've arrived back to sweaty palms.

You take a breath, knocking, but instead of the solid feel of the door, your hand falls through, the door having been cracked open a fraction—your nervous state must have forced you not to notice. It swings wider and your breath hitches.

Miguel's room is a mess, and not just his bed this time. Things are smashed, and his chair is thrown, lying lifeless on the floor. You then shift your gaze up to a heaving Miguel. He finally notices your presence, meeting your wide eyes.

Miguel had always been someone who was controlled. Sure, he got agitated easy, and clearly had some anger issues to deal with, but 'messy' was never a word you associated with him. And here he was hair ruffled, wet from the outside rain, and covering part of his eyes. His chest heaved to a mismatched beat, as his nose twitched in a snarl, his fangs very visible in the dim light. He looked like the definition of ‘a mess’.

"What are you doing here?" His low tone breaks you from your silent stance, your lips coming closed to rub against each other in...thought? You weren't entirely sure.

You gulp. "Did something...happen?" You scan his body for injuries, but find none. You glance at his open window. "Did you go on a mission?"

"Did you need something?" Miguel doesn't mean for his tone to come out so harshly. And watching your face twitch a fraction made him grind his teeth in annoyance at himself.

"I was going to ask you something, but..." Now you weren't so sure that this moment was the right one.

Miguel gulps, turning slightly away from you. "If you have nothing to say…go."

Yes, Miguel was acting clip and rude with you. And yes...maybe he did turn away so he wouldn't see your expressions. But then he hears your steps slowly draw closer. He shifts his gaze back to you.

Right now was the worst time to see you, he didn't want you to see him, he wanted you to go.

"I thought you had nothing to say?" Miguel briskly asks, but you caught the slight crack in his harsh tone. A crack that displayed a mix of emotions—stress, anxiety,...fear?

Before you know it you're moving closer, your feet, the rain and his breathing filling the other wise silent room. "Now's not a good time." His tone cracked even more. This time with anger.

You stop, a decent distance away. And maybe you should leave, leave him to this. But what is this? You voice that. "What is this?" 'This' as in the mess. 'This' as in Miguel's body language. He looked like he was not even a minute away from exploding.

"Are you...okay?"

Part of Miguel's facade broke at that. "I'm perfectly fine. Do I not look it?" He spits this, fully turning to you. Some droplets of water, that had drenched his hair slides down his cheek.

You know not to be taken aback by Miguel's words. But you'd never seen the word 'crazed' written in his eyes before...'frantic'. "No...you don't look it." You say, eyeing him. "You look...you don't look like yourself."

Miguel mockingly nods, his tongue dragging across one of his fangs, and actually drawing blood. "Right." He forcibly chuckles. "I forgot, I'm supposed to look...what? Composed? On task? In control?" He's stepped closer to you, each word coming out like a snarl.

"Not everything stays the same." Miguel is saying. "Not everything goes the way we plan." He grits out 'plan' like he despises the word altogether.

And as you glance from his hair to the window, to then his too clean of a suit, you realise something. It wasn't a mission, but he had gone somewhere.

"Miguel, where did you go?"

"I didn't go anywhere." He scoffs out.

"Yes you did." You say, narrowing your eyes in thought. And maybe now would be a good time to leave, leave him be. But of course you wouldn't, 'worry' now tieing you up tight. Then you pause. "Why are talking about things that don't go to plan? What hasn't gone to plan?"

"You know, you can be real nosy sometimes." Miguel wanted to punch himself. Why did he say that? You had never been nosy, only observant. Maybe too much for your own good, but it was surely a talent of yours. And here he was shaming you.

But in this moment you weren't fazed. Something was wrong. "Miguel, you've clearly just come in here angry. You're hair's wet from the rain, so obviously recently. Your room is a mess. It's never a mess. You're...never a mess."

"Oh, plenty of things can become a mess, y/n."

"Yeah, but never you. Sure, you've gotten angry before, but you've never trashed a room. There's glass on the floor...you broke that mirror." You gesture to the one hanging on the wall, a prominent fist imbedded in the middle.

"Don't tell me you're gonna deduce where I've fucking been by the glass?!" He was yelling. Not at you. Never at you. At himself. But he's always been very good at projecting. Especially when you're around.

"No." You breathe. "I'm asking you." You say, letting a hint of your concern shine through. You were concerned. Very concerned. Maybe Miguel would have noticed your concern, if he wasn't slowly loosing it. If the messed up room wasn't enough of a tell, he's hit his peak.

"What happened?" You ask again, and this time you finally get a response.

"I fucked up, okay?!" He exclaims, his heart pounding a mile a minute. "I can't take it back. And I've tried. I've really tried. But you know what? Maybe this is meant to happen. Maybe I'm meant to screw everything up."

You stare at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I..." Miguel drifts off, fisting his already disheveled hair. "I let them take it..." Hs voice has softened. But not to a nice kind of softened—a broken one.

You step a fraction closer. "Who? And take what?"

You can visibly see Miguel's strength ebbing away. He looks exhausted, and all in all done. Done with everything. You didn't like that look, you didn't like the inclination of it. "Miguel." You say slowly.

But he's going farther and farther back into his mind, getting tangled up in thoughts you could tell had begun to haunt him. Screwed up? What had he supposedly screwed up?

Then before your mind could work on overdrive, millions of questions wanting to surface, and before Miguel could step further back from reality, you stepped much, much closer, reaching up on your tip toes. And then you wrapped your arms around his neck...hugging him.

Miguel is frozen. Entirely frozen. His mind stops trying to murder him and the drowning sounds in his ears fade away. Now he can hear your breathing, a nervous beat clear. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should do what he’s thinking.

But then you’re slowly drawing back, arms leaving his body. And he can’t have that. He swiftly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back to him, as his hands clench around your shirt.

Your breathing hitches as Miguel’s breath hits your collarbone, his head choosing to rest in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing part of your skin.

No. He had told himself he wouldn’t think like that anymore. It was exhausting, and he was tired enough as is. His grip tightened around you. To all the doubtful voices in his head, he was using you to say ‘shut the hell up’.

You could feel Miguel’s entire body practically slump against yours. And though your cheeks were red hot, and your heart was screaming you wrapped your arms back around his neck, your wrists meeting together by his hair.

For once Miguel heard silence. He had always had too many voices in his head telling him this and that. And that ‘this was what has to be done’ and that ‘no, you can’t get distracted’.

Now he felt a much relieving calmness engulfing him. You. His breathing slightly shuddered against your neck, the open of his mouth leading his fangs to lightly brush across your skin.

You shivered at this, earning Miguel to lean his head back. But he didn’t let your waist go. You stopped those voices and he’d be damned if he let you step away from his body now.

Your breathes met, as did your gaze. You were close, the seeming millimetre making you seem even more so. You could feel Miguel’s fingers fiddle slowly with the back of your shirt, your front still pressed against his.

“I’m…” You gulp, your voice coming out much shakier than you intended. “Sorry…I probably shouldn’t have hugged you.” You could practically taste his breath.

“Yeah…you probably shouldn’t have.” His tone is breathy, sounding out of body, as his gaze flickers to your lips.

They’re dry—of course. And now at the close proximity licking them made you feel ten times hotter. You prayed he couldn’t see your blushing cheeks.

“I’m sorry that I just…sorta came in.” You felt you had to fill in the silence. Miguel didn’t seem to mind it though, cause it meant that he could listen to your voice. And replacing your voice with the one’s in his head is probably the smartest choice he could ever make.

Well maybe the second smartest choice… He stared at your freshly wet lips, breathing harder. His thoughts had changed from ‘how much more could he take’ to ‘how much more…more…more’. He wanted more. More of your closeness, this seemed to not be enough.

In response to his thoughts his hands glided up your back, making your body lean more against him. Chest to chest.

“A-and I probably shouldn’t have assumed all that stuff…” you breathe out, as Miguel tilts his head, looking down at you. It’s safe to say your were flustered.

“I think you did alright.” He partially whispered.

“Well…you’re not throwing a chair..so..” Stupid, stupid, stupid—you think to yourself. “I mean…”

And to your shock you notice his lips begin to curve up. And not just to stop at a certain point. No. His lips continued to widen until he was smiling. An actual, genuine smile, that oozed amusement, and it made him look…happy?

“Careful.” You say. “You look like you’re expressing a ‘sparkly emotion’.”

“Oh no.” His grin doesn’t fall, and it only makes your heart beat faster. “We wouldn’t want that…would we?”

You quickly shake your head, and Miguel presses his lips together with further amusement, his eyes darting. “…cute.”

You freeze. And Miguel seems to realise his small slip up, as his eyes grow a fraction wider. He had slipped up in English. Goddamn English. You understood.

But what he didn’t know was that you understood a lot more than just that word. And as the reason for your arrival to his room came back to you, the simple word ‘cute’ seemed to mean a whole lot, lot more.

I’m sorry this one’s kinda short, and not too much is going on. but I wanted them to have a close moment like this before they…well…y’know.

at this point I’ve decided to do nine parts (it fits better) so next part…mhm…FINALLY we can get some closer HaPpIniNgS

plus next part im gonna go onto a deeper dive of where Miguel went and who the masked men are — i just needed a bit of tension filled fluff

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

taglist #2 taglist #3 taglist #4 taglist #5 taglist #6 taglist #7

#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel fucking o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #atsv miguel #atsv #spider man #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara angst

[rboooks]

DP x DC: Child Support

John Constantine has done a lot in his life. Some good, some bad but most have been dangerous.

He sold his soul to as many powerful beings as he could so that they could fight each other over it and keep him in a safe-ish stalemate. It was a risk, one where he had to sweet talk, maneuver, and sometimes seduce his way through, but he's always come on top.

Waking to his wards broken as easily as someone walking through a still river meant he had finally met his match. John woke to the Time looming over him in its adult form.

Clockwork, the physical concept of Time, smashed into a body and consciousness. It's so rare to see the god outside his tower; to even be in his presence was such a high honor that families would keep proof of the encounter for generations to brag about.

"Hello, Johnny," Clockwork said in his specialized adult form. The nickname curved with fondness. This form is an even rarer sight to behold. Clockwork looked about to be in his late twenties, dressed in a Victorian-era suit with dark black hair, he would look human were it not for his pure red eyes and time staff.

He looks gorgeous.

John smiled nervously. "Clockwork. What do I owe the pleasure?"

The ghost hums. "I have come to make a deal with you."

See, that's not something John would like to hear from the second-strongest being in the multiverse. He was second to the Ghost King. Some would even argue that Clockwork was stronger were it not for his desire to remain neutral in conflicts for the sake of different timelines.

"What kind of deal?" John asks with a lustful grin, running his eyes up and down Clockworks form. It looks like he may have to seduce his way out of this again and hopefully could convince the god of Time that he was a great time in bed instead of dead once more

The Master of Time appears amused but unwilling to climb under the sheets with him. Bollocks, if he wasn't back for another month of pleasure then the deal would likely be unpleasant.

Even if Clockwork could be considered a past fling, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't ask for something harmful. John had less powerful exes who would gladly have him killed just as likely as they would key his car.

To make thinga worst, Clockwork reached into his gentleman jacket to pull out a small jar. John's heart leaped in horror at what was inside.

"I have collected every piece of your soul through challenges, purchases, or even offerings. I own you entirely, John Constantine," Clockwork said, his warm tan skin rippling into blue as the Ghost turned the jar this way and that. "I wish to return it to you, with my added protection, should the old contracts which you swindled will not seek out revenge in exchange, you must take responsibility."

John can barely breath "Responsibility of what?"

Clockwork gestures behind him, and out of the shadows step a human boy. A human boy that looks precisely like human-Clockwork as a teenager but with John's eyes and the shape of John's nose.

No.

He knows that despite how similar they look, Humans and the citizens of the Infinite Realms aren't biologically the same. He just didn't think that meant this.

That he could be so careless it resulted in this.

Clockwork waves a hand between them. "Jonny meet your son, Danny."

John choked as Danny awkwardly waved at him. He even stuffs his hands into his pockets the same way John would stuff his hands into his trench coat.

This can't be happening.

"Our son is half human, and it's unhealthy for humans to remain in the Infinite Releams for long periods. I now require you to raise him on Earth until his core is ready. The day our son is of age, you will have your soul back with my Infinite protection. Danny will take the throne of the Infinite Realms upon his marriage so do help him find a good suitor."

Clockwork considers the rapidly paling human with large amounts of glee. "I trust this would be acceptable? I must warn you, I have raised him outside of time, so he is a bit behind with modern technologies and references. He also has a ghost form he must use for his health. Oh, and, Danny has a peanut allergy, so keep that in mind for his meals. If anything were to happen to Danny while he lives with you, I would erase this entire place and not through time manipulation. I will simply kill everything. Keep you alive so I can kill every version of those you love across the multiverse in front of you. Try not to slip away from your child support to prevent that, yes?"

John faints.

Danny Fenton had to be removed from his dimension to erase Dan from existence. His future self had nearly escaped the Clock tower they couldn't risk a second time. Clockwork had told him removing him from his dimension, his timeline, would never allow Dan to exist. It broke his heart but to save the many lives that Dan took Danny had agree.

His friends and family were devastated even if Clockwork told them Danny would be allowed visits. Just nothing longer than a week and six months between visits. He had moved into Clockwork's haunt, becoming an assistant to the master of time. He helped weave timeliness, and suggested possible choices for various creatures of various situations across the multiverse.

Danny helped Clockwork control fate, if that wasn't ridiculous. He even tried his ghost powers, to the point he felt he could truelt match his mentor in a fight.

He spent two years like this- or two years in his home dimension. Time didn't move in Clockwork's tower so despite the amount of time he lived there Danny didn't look a day over fourteen still. It irked him like nothing else to see Tucker and Sam as sixteen year Olds while he still looked like he was a freshman.

(It also hurt to see them move on without him.)

However, due to his halfa status, his human side was starting to fall apart. He needed sun, food, sleep, and other humans. He would go mad otherwise, and none of this would matter if it resulted in Dan.

Clockwork couldn't put him back home. He couldn't even put Danny in an alternate timeline, for he could not be close to people he knew.

He had to go to one that had no various of anyone Danny knew. Thankfully the Infinite Releams is connected to plenty of places that fit the bill. All Clockwork had to do was twist a few small events, and boom, Danny Fenton would have a perfectly legal background with everything he need for survive.

If only his mentor wasn't such a michivious prankster.

" You want me to pretend to be your love child with some random magic guy?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Trust me Danny, it's going to be hilarious."

(Part 2)

#dc x dp crossover #John Constantine takes on Danny #Clockwork ans John were a fling #John is losing his mind. #Danny went along with it cause his bored #Child Support

[edenavari]

On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else. 

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed. 

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right? 

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps. 

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him. 

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger. 

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts. 

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again. 

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope. 

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic. 

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested. 

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss. 

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life. 

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief. 

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute. 

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge. 

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own. 

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious. 

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats. 

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget. 

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie oneshot #first kiss

[yxami]

Yandere coworker!!

Desc: Yandere coworker x gn reader, general Yandere behaviors, possessive, a pinch of toxicity, jealousy, and other things. He’s pretty tame compared to others.

Coworkers, meant to keep relationships within company time and inside the workplace, but a few drinks with the boss and others wouldn’t hurt right? You tell yourself that as you get ready for it, putting on nice shoes you wouldn’t usually wear and a casual outfit for dinner.

It’ll go by fast and you won’t drink that much, at least not enough to have a hangover.

But your plan fails when one of your coworkers insists you drink more than your tolerance can handle, one shot after another before you can notice that you’re tipsy and stumbling over your own words, and seemingly nothing on the ground but you don’t pay enough mind to it.

“Here, cheers to another shot” Your pushy coworker hands you another, or at least attempts to before a veiny hand pushes the tiny glass away.

“That’s enough. Can’t you see how drunk they are?” An intimidating but familiar voice speaks, your coworker that you’ve hardly spoken to defends you. He was always a quiet one, keeping to himself, he was scary but always did what he was told by the boss. You’ve tried being nice but he seems like a shut in so you stayed inside your cubicle that happened to be right by his.

“Awh cmon, don’t be a wimp, another won’t hurt you right?” He turns his focus back on you, a wobbly smile on his face, clearly showing the intoxicated state he caused for himself.

“No, and you should stop drinking, we all have work tomorrow.” He stands up, towering over him as he denies the drink for you once again. “Let’s go, I’ll take you home” He sighs, helping you to lean on his side as much as you can with the height difference.

He might as well carry you..

“Mm’ fine, I’lll…. just order a cab home” You slur your words, trying not to cause trouble on a coworker you’ve hardly spoken to other than saying “yes, no, over there” every now and then to each other.

“I insist. It’s too late anyways and I’ve hardly drank, I just hope these idiots can manage to find their way home” He sighs, looking at the passed out coworkers and your boss somehow still preforming songs on the karaoke machine.

You stay quiet after that, observing his serious expression and cologne, it smelt nice, like a cold fall breeze before a walk. You recall the way your boss insisted for everyone to dress casual, but here he was, in a suit without worry about you vomiting all over it or in his car, buckling you in, mimicking a child with its parent.

The car drive seems rather short, at least for you, but time seemed to go a snails pace for him while he drove.

Why did he offer help? It’s not like he cares about you, but he couldn’t sit and let you get fed shot after shot, clearly that guy didn’t know his own limit. And plus, he was leaving so it was convenient to take you home, even though you weren’t on the way..

He shouldn’t have helped, what if you assumed the two of you were buddy buddy now? He hates that shit, someone clinging onto him because they believe they’ve made a breakthrough in his just because he keeps things professional.

They only care about what makes them feel special and hell, they weren’t in the slightest.

But you don’t act that way, if anything you were the complete opposite.

“Thank you for driving me home, I was definitely way too drunk to do so” You laugh slightly, thankful that he troubled himself to bring you home. It was a little embarrassing to recall how he put you to bed and made you drink water before he left.

“No problem, next time learn how to say no, it’s not hard” He casually delivers a brutally honest sentence, you can’t decipher whether if it was a kind gesture or not but continue on.

“You’re right, I haven’t grown a spine yet” You joke, smiling this time with your words. “I brought you some food I picked up before work, I hope you like baked goods, I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got a small container of everything” You grab the cardboard box you had on your desk and hand it to him, hoping he at least wanted one.

“Oh.. thanks.” He quietly says, looking down at the small box in his hands. You nod and try to focus on your work after that, attempting to not riddle yourself with worry about how you may have given a shitty ‘thank you!’ gift.

After that, you would attempt to befriend him, as much as he would let you. You never pushed further than what he gave, you wanted to be kind so you weren’t exactly best friends but you were able to greet him unlike the others who couldn’t.

“Do you want to eat lunch together?”

“Huh?”

“Eat lunch. Together?” He repeats, turning his chair to face you, eyes now staring up at yours rather than his freshly printed paper that was warm to the touch.

“Oh yeah.. yeah! that would be nice” You say, a little surprised that he offered, let alone was willing to eat lunch with someone.

He wasn’t sure why either, but his mind has been nagging at him to interact with you. He’s been craving to see you more and he’s been doing relatively well with hiding it but he can’t comprehend why he’s feeling this way.

Feeling so helpless against these instincts that beg to see you, that want to talk to you, maybe even touch you if he ponders long enough. It’s strange, he’s never felt this way, so he’s curious enough to indulge in it. As long as it keeps his brain at peace.

After a few lunches, his needs grow more, and more, and more until all your time is spent on him. You don’t pick up on it until a coworker points out how close the two of you are now, it almost makes you forget how it used to be, weren’t you always like this with him?

“Can you come over today? I wanted to cook dinner with you again” He speaks with a muffled volume, mouth filled with too much food to speak clearly.

You nod, agreeing like always, this has become a usual thing, and you’re used to it. Even growing accustomed to sleeping over if you’re too tired to go home. Sometimes it almost seems like he purposefully makes bigger portions so you grow sleepy after your full and content.

“Good, I bought the ingredients for your favorite. Maybe we can pick up some ice cream on the way home as dessert” He smiles slightly, continuing to chew his food in silence after that.

Time passes rather quickly, at least for you, he’s a little confused on why you’re taking forever so he stops waiting at the elevator like he told you he would do, walking up to your cubicle he sees you chatting, talking with the same coworker who pushes you around.

“Awh cmon please? I’m trying to meet up with a girl tonight and if I do these papers then I’ll be late, and I can’t be late to a first date” He pleads, putting his hands together with the papers crinkling slightly between them.

“I don’t know.. I already have something planned and I can’t just cancel on them” You say hesitantly, debating whether if you should help him or not, again.

“I’m sure you can do these papers on your own, I’ve seen you do a stack in 20.” He approaches, glaring at the shared coworker, he’s always despised this guy.

“Ah- seriously, it’s an important date” He pleads again, ignoring him as if he hadn’t just spoke.

“And it’s a no, can you hear?”

“I wasn’t asking you”

“I’m not letting you throw work on another coworker just for you to have another failed date”

He scoffs, annoyed as he walks back to his cubicle, not willing to pick a fight over some papers, even though he would if it was anyone but him.

“Let’s go then? Are you done with everything?” Your friend says, mood switching with your other coworker gone. It seems like he could be intimidating one minute and be ecstatic about something the next.

You didn’t mind how he acted now, even if he was a little harsh to others and wouldn’t want you speaking to them as much as you do. It helps you out in most situations, like now and at the party.

“Yeah, let’s go..!”

You just can’t help but wonder if it’s something you should worry about.

#yxami’s yam #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere guy #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #needy yandere #yandere dom #yandere boy #yandere male #coworker yandere #yandere coworker

[holylulusworld]

Dinner for one (1)

Summary: You eat alone. You like it that way. Someone disturbs your dinner.

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, pushy Bucky, a hint of fluff, mentions of dead relatives, cheating ex-boyfriend

Dinner for … masterlist

“A table for one?” The hostess looks you up and down. It’s not the first time you have dined at the fancy restaurant. Every once in a while you treat yourself and go out to have dinner at your favorite Italian restaurant.

“For two,” you splutter and curse yourself for it. “I mean…uh…I brought a friend.” You drop your gaze and take a deep breath. “I meant that I brought my stuffy. Is it okay that he’ll sit with me?”

The hostess eyes you up and down. You can see the wheels in her head spinning. “That’s a little odd, don’t you think?”

You expected her to act like that. “Did you know that in Japan there is a restaurant trying to make dining alone less awkward? They seat patrons with giant stuffed animals if they are alone. I had the opportunity to see it myself.”

She blanches at your response. “Japan? You’ve been to Japan?”

“Yeah, I had the chance to live there for a while. My boyf—” You bite your tongue and shake your head. “I accompanied someone. He wanted to start anew in a foreign land.”

“Cool,” she looks around the restaurant, searching for a table for two. “I can give you the one in the corner. It’s not the best table, and usually taken by a regular. But he won’t come this week. He canceled his usual reservation.”

“That would be very kind of you,” you wring your hands as she guides you toward the table. “I’ll be right back with my…uh…”

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’ll reserve the table for you. You can order in a minute.” You nod and walk back outside to get your fluffy friend.

While you are busy unlocking your car, the hostess talks to the waiter. “Please don’t ask questions and try not to stare. The guest will bring her plushie to keep her company.”

“A plushie?” The waiter furrows his brows. “Oh, like in Japan! I saw something about it on the internet the other day.

“Well, she’s a regular and lonely. For almost a year she has come here every few months to dine alone. She always looks sad. Let’s help her have a great evening.”

“I’d like to have the chicken parmesan, and for dessert, I’ll take the tiramisu.” You close the menu and give the waiter a shy smile.

“Do you want wine for your chicken parmesan?” The waiter asks. He doesn’t look at the huge bear you placed on the free chair at your table, only at you. “Miss?”

“Can I have apple spritzer?” You shyly glance up at the waiter.

“Of course, miss,” he nods and gives you a soft smile. “I’ll get you an apple spritzer. Your food will be ready soon.”

“Hmm…that smells great,” you inhale the scent of your food deeply. “What do you say, big bear? Do you think this is a nice restaurant?” You look at your bear, giggling as it stares back at you with its plastic eyes.

You take the first bite, moaning at the taste. Chicken parmesan always had a special place in your heart. Or rather your stomach. “So good, big bear. I wish you could have a taste too.”

“What do you mean my table is taken?” A grumpy man wildly gestures toward you and your bear. “There is my table, and it’s occupied by some woman with a teddy bear? Are you out of your mind?”

“Sir, Mr. Barnes. We are sorry. Your secretary called and canceled the reservation,” the hostage tries not to lose her composure at the man’s rude behavior. “We can offer you a table for one right over there.” She points toward a spare table.

“Do I look like some lonely loser eating alone?” He cocks his head to glance your way again. “I want my table, and I want it now. Let her sit at the table for one.”

“She has company, Sir,” the hostess tries to stop the man from storming toward your table. He stops right in front of your table, glaring at your bear.

“That’s a teddy bear,” he sneers and dares to poke your bear with his index finger. “Is this some crazy kink?” He looks at you, expectantly. “Lady?”

“I-I,” you stammer. This man angrily stares at you, and you are too scared to answer him. “I…try to eat, Sir.”

“Cat got your tongue?” He cocks his head to look at your food. “I need you to sit at the table for one. I’m waiting for someone…” He sighs as you keep on shoving food in your mouth to avoid talking to him.

“Sir, she’s having dinner. We can have the other table ready for you in a minute.” The hostess tries to get the man to leave you alone. “Please. She only wants to eat in silence.”

“With a bear,” he points out. “Fine, if she won’t sit at the other table, I’ll sit with her.”

“What?” You sniffle as the man tries to take the bear off the chair. “Hey! Don’t touch big bear! Please just leave me alone!” Your lips wobble and tears well up to your eyes. “It’s my birthday and you are ruining it!”

He puts the bear back down and wrinkles his forehead. “Why are you dining alone on your birthday, only a bear by your side.”

You shrug. “I got no one who wants to celebrate with me. My parents are dead, and my boyfriend found someone better and prettier in Japan. I had to start anew and didn’t find friends in this town so far.”

“You’re all alone on your birthday?” His features soften and his shoulders relax. “Hmm…” He looks at the bear on his chair again. “How about we eat together? I’m hungry, and you are alone.”

“I got my bear,” you insist. This man is too pushy and grumpy for your liking. You don’t want to eat with him, nor share your table. “Why don’t you sit at the table for one?”

“I-“ he licks his lips. “I don’t want to eat alone. My date stood me up and…uh…eating alone is…it sucks.”

You look at the man. He holds out his hand, telling you his name as you shyly glance at his offered hand. “I’m James…or Bucky. Uh-you can call me Bucky.”

“Y/N,” you murmur and shake his offered hand. “And that’s big bear. He…”

“He helped you through hard times,” Bucky offers. “Can I sit at your table? Is that alright with you?”

“Uh-sure,” you hold out your hand for your bear. “I can put it in my car and come back.”

Bucky shakes his head. He calls for the hostess and asks for a table for three or more. He grabs the bear and holds out his hand for you. “We can eat at the table over there and your bear can sit with us.”

“What…you,” you sniff. “You want the bear to sit with us?”

“Why not?” He shrugs. “He’s your friend and helped you through hard times. I get it. I have a good friend too. Steve.” Bucky smiles now. “My friend helped me through hard times too.”

You watch him take off his glove to reveal a metal hand. “Oh.” You say and carefully touch it. “I didn’t know.”

“Please have dinner with me,” he asks again. “I know I’m a little loud and grumpy, but I didn’t want to ruin your birthday too.”

You look at your bear tugged under Bucky’s arm. “Okay…” You breathe. "If you want to waste your time on me."

"Doll," he softly says, "spending the evening with you is not a waste of time."

Bucky and you will talk for hours, and enjoy your food.

He tells you about his friend Steve, and you talk about Japan, your ex-boyfriend, and how you got big bear.

When you finally part ways, you promise each other to meet at the restaurant again to spend every Friday evening dining together...

Part two: Dinner for two

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #angst #au!bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) ch3

“So, what’s your deal?” Jason asked, when Danny’s mouth was full of food. “You’re dead, I notice.”

Danny choked. He gave Jason a betrayed look with big blue eyes, a hand clapped over his mouth to contain any mess.

Jason smirked back, unrepentant. “I died once,” he shared. “Got better though.”

“You got be-”

“You were surprised about what it’s like to fight humans,” Jason continued. It was hard not to laugh at the confused outrage on his date’s face. “So that implies you fight someone else? You’re fighting ghosts or something? Or do ghosts have some kinda natural enemy? Vampires or some shit?” He might have been a bit flippant but sue him, it sounded a lot more magical than his daily life.

Danny opened his mouth and no words came out. He looked like he was in pain when he grudgingly admitted, “I do have a lot of beef with this one vampire guy, Vlad.”

Jason threw his head back and laughed. That was such a vampire guy name, what the hell?

“No, no, it’s not funny,” Danny protested. He waved his hands wildly, flinging a bit of bean from his burrito across the roof they were perched on. “He’s also a ghost- well, he’s a half of a ghost, but that’s a long story from when he was in college.”

“The half-ghost vampire has an undergraduate degree?” Jason interrupted. He needed to know what this fucker studied. Was it like, social science? Literature? Theater? That might explain Danny’s implied belief that a theme was an inherent rogue thing. No, wait, business administration?

Danny gave him a withering look. “He’s got a Doctorate.”

Jason flung his hands up in defeat against the world. That made more sense than an undergraduate degree somehow. There was just something about the type of person who got a Doctorate that made them, you know, creeps.

‘Or maybe they’ve just got enough specialized knowledge to act on latent creepiness,’ he mused. ‘...Shit, am I developing an anti education stance? Can I blame this on Crane and Quinn?’

Danny was continuing with his explanation of the vampire’s background. Every word made it nuttier. “He’s a scientist, actually, and the mayor of a small town. And he lives in a cheese mansion.”

This was a sharp divergence from vampire stereotypes and he needed to know everything.

“Is the mansion made of cheese?” Jason interrupted. He was leaning in, intent on every word. Why was this vampire the most interesting man in the world?

He got a weird look for that. “No, it just belonged to the Dairy King,” Danny said, like it was everyday knowledge that you could expect a layperson to have.

“Of course, the Dairy King,” Jason said wisely.

"Enough about me though!" Danny flailed a bit. "How did you get my uh, number?"

Ah. Jason took a big bite to delay while he chose his words.

There was no point in trying to hide his vigilante identity from Danny. The guy probably didn't even understand the concept.

So he might as well top whatever story Danny had.

"The bat guy who taught me all about being a child soldier got grabbed by this group of loser cultists, right?" He gestured in a way that did absolutely nothing to illustrate the situation.

Danny cocked his head. "This is off to a good start."

"They tried to sacrifice him. You gotta remember him - big ugly guy, dressed in black and gray, underwear on the outside of his pants in a way that's never been cool?"

Danny didn't seem to have words, but he lifted his hands to make two ears on top of his head.

He pointed with both hands. "That's the guy," Jason agreed. "At the time, we didn't know what kind of sacrifice it was. We were thinking more along the lines of blood sacrifice?" He shrugged as if the idea of B biting it meant nothing to him.

Danny made a pffft sound of air escaping between his lips. "I tossed him back." He flailed in place. "I- isn't- wasn't that- that was a while ago," he stuttered. "I kinda forgot about him."

"...You got offered a cape, then a few weeks later a bunch of others, and you didn't make a mental connection?" Jason checked.

Danny flushed. "Time doesn't match up between the realms and anyway, I'm really busy!" He crossed his arms and accidentally knocked over his drink. "I've got a lot going on in my life. Anyway, for a ghost?" Danny blew a raspberry. "I'm sorry to break your heart, but none of you dress wild enough to stand out in the Infinite Realms. We've got robot dudes and child pirates and giant eyeballs and stuff." He gave Jason a smug look. It was cute.

Jason acted on impulse and reached out to ruffle Danny's hair. He realized what he was doing too late. His hand froze above Danny's head.

Danny tilted his face up and made an inquisitive sound.

"There was a bug." Jason pulled his hand back. What was wrong with him? He didn't go touching other people just because they were cute. "It flew off."

"...Right," Danny said. "You're being very normal." He seemed delighted by this, the little gremlin. "So. You were a child soldier too?"

Jason nearly fell off his perch.

Danny shrieked a laugh and pointed. "Ha!" He crowed. "I win! I shocked you first!"

"There wasn't a competition!" Jason lied. His face was bright red. It was too late to save face. "What do you mean too?" He demanded. "Were you a child?"

"Somewhat recently," Danny said. He gave Jason a catlike smile. "Adults come from teenagers, teenagers come from kids, kids come from babies. Do you need to know-"

"I know where babies come from." Jason cut him off. He tried to look off put at the way Danny laughed at him but fuck it, it was funny, in a dumb way. "Of course you were a kid, that was silly of me," he admitted. "Ghosts are made from humans, right?"

"Well yes, but actually no," Danny said, philosophical. "Some of us. I was. Other ghosts are made from like, vultures, or ideas."

It kinda seemed like ghost taxonomy was more complicated than he was ready to get into at the moment. Those two things were pretty fuckin disparate.

Jason sighed heavily and picked up his food again, just to have something to do with his hands.

A thought occurred. He didn't let it show on his face but he felt sick to his stomach.

Danny was dead. Danny said he'd been a child recently, and a child soldier.

Someone needed their ass kicked.

Danny: we are having such a whimsical time!

Jason: sirens screaming

#dp x dc #red check yes #dead on main

[storiesfromafan]

Dance Class 101

A/N: I come baring more fruits of my labor haha. Or rather this was a silly story I started a new nights ago after 11pm. It just spiraled from there.

Might do a part two. See what happens.

Also, forgive some of the informal wording. I blame being Australian lol.

Pairing: Mattheo x Slytherin Fem!Reader (more pining?)

They say school is meant to be a fun experience, learning new and usually useful things. And in any other House in Hogwarts, that would be the case. Unfortunately, for Slytherin fun was not a word Professor Snape knew, or rather despised, squashing all light in any room he was in. Currently in The Great Hall, during the Slytherin’s scheduled time for dance practise for the upcoming Yule Ball.

All attending students in Hogwarts were expected to participate in dance classes. So here you were, with your group of misfits. As your house all took seats around Professor Snape, who looked to be out of his comfort zone, you couldn’t miss those around you whispering to each other. Which was shortly lived when Snape ordered silence. Of course, everyone shut their mouths and sat up straight.

“Firstly, I detest that I have to teach you all to dance” Snape began, his voice sharp with authority. “But you all need to have some sort of formal etiquette for a ball. So, I am…forced to instruct you”. Ah, how that must have hurt to say.

There were sniggers and giggles at Snape’s words, which he called for silence again and got it quick smart.

“Secondly, I will remind each and every one of you that you will be representing Slytherin at The Yule Ball. So, I do not wish to hear of any of you acting in any way to lower our House” Snape stood proudly and rolled his sharp gaze over every student. “You are Slytherin. We are a proud house, do not sully it”.

Mattheo, Theodore and Lorenzo; whom were all sitting before you, started to snicker. Which you stopped with a slap to each of the back of their heads, just like any mother. Mattheo turned back with a glare, to which you smiled at before gesturing for him to turn back around and focusing on Snape.

Back to the lesson at hand; dancing 101. The girls rather giddy, the boys wanting to run from the room. Snape uncomfortable. And the female Professor being his dance partner wishing she had done something better with her career. All in all, this was to be some kind of afternoon. Starting off with two Professor’s stiffly demonstrating The Waltz. How the student population bearing witness to the scene before them kept themselves in check was a mystery. Alright, not entirely a mystery but more not wanting to cop Snape’s wrath for laughing. Plain and simple.

Finally, it came time for the observers to move to practical. Reluctantly all students rose from their seats, shuffling about and pairing up awkwardly. You stood looking around the room trying to pick out a dance partner. You didn’t want anyone who was handsy or flirty, nor did you want someone who has two left feet.

“Looking for me?” asked an all too familiar cocky voice behind you.

Turning around you found Mattheo standing there confidently. Oh, you will enjoy knocking him down a peg.

“Oh no” you replied off handedly, “I’m looking for a less pompous ass to dance with”.

He shot you a glare.

“Then you must be looking for me?” Questioned Theodore stepping up and slapping Mattheo on the shoulder. “Sorry mate”.

You looked to Theodore with a blank look. “Sorry, nor am I looking for his partner in pompousness either”.

Mattheo laughed shoving Theodore. “Tough luck, mate”.

Theodore shot his friend a dark look. “Hey, at least I didn’t get rejected first”.

That sobered Mattheo, and both boys glared at the other before turning back to you.

Thankfully that was the moment Lorenzo stepped in and swept you away. “Sorry lads, she was waiting for me”.

You laughed as Lorenzo twirled you both around. Alright, he won. “To be clear I wasn’t waiting for Lorenzo, but with that save, he has earned his place as my dance partner. Sorry”.

Lorenzo laughed as both Mattheo and Theodore shoved the other before shuffling off to find other partners. Which wouldn’t be hard. Every girl in this school would give their soul to get close to Mattheo, he was the Slytherin heart throb after all. And Theodore had his own club of fans too. So, they would be fine.

But a part of you regretted rejecting Mattheo. Blame the two-year crush on the curly mop head, who had just partnered up with Daphne Greengrass. The way she smiled at him as she placed her hand on his shoulder while he stepped closer, it made you sick to your stomach. Not to mention your blood boiling when she laughed at something Mattheo said.

“What are you growling at?” Questioned Lorenzo, before turning you both to see what held your attention. “Ah, I see”.

“Ah, I see? You see nothing” you retorted defiantly, turning away from the nauseating and infuriating scene.

Lorenzo shot you a knowing look. “Please (Y/N/N), I’m not stupid. I’ve known about your affections probably before you even came to terms with them” he chuckled, while you pouted.

“I repeat, you see nothing. End of story”.

Lorenzo spun you around, making you see the pair across from you both, before turning you away again. “It’s alright, I am not offended I’m not the eye of your desire” he poked your side. “But Theodore owes me a butterbeer”.

You swatted Lorenzo’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare say a word! Ah, of nothing that isn’t true” you sputtered, attempting to deny your crush.

Lorenzo brought you close. “Your secret is safe with me (Y/N/N). Mum’s the word”.

You one hundred and ten percent believed Lorenzo. Out of the three, he was more the voice of reason. While Mattheo and Theodore were Dumb and Dumber. But to be clear, you did not think them dumb, far from it for they could be evil geniuses if they applied themselves. They were goof balls that didn’t always read a person before opening their mouths.

Once everyone was paired up, Snape called for attention once more. Taking the proper stance with the female Professor, Snape instructed all students to do the same. Lorenzo stood comically tall, with a snooty look on his face while holding out his left hand out to you. Following his lead, you mirrored his stance and look, before dramatically placing your right hand in his. He then placed his right hand on your waist, pulling you closer forcefully. You couldn’t help it; a snigger came from your lips as you placed your left hand on his shoulder. Yes, Lorenzo was the smart choice. Laughter was the best way to forget about Mattheo and Daphne.

While you were having fun in Snape’s dreary presence, Mattheo was watching every moment just now. A wave of jealousy washing over him as Lorenzo pulled you close and received a snigger. Sure, he could see you were both goofing off. But he hated it wasn’t him you were having fun with.

Mattheo acted aloof, and teased you, but it was to hide the feelings the boy had for you. Out of all the girls in the school, you were the first one to become his friend. Never flirting or going shy. Being your unapologetic self through and through.

The friendship he had with you was what made it hard to have feelings for you. Your friendship was something he treasured, and he didn’t want to ruin it. For if he lost you, Mattheo would be devastated. But he also disliked seeing his two mates’ taking your attention away from him and having fun without him.

“Hey, Snape’s talking” Daphne whispered, drawing Mattheo’s attention from you and Lorenzo.

Snape proceeded to instruct and show you all the basic steps for The Waltz.

“Male’s lead. Starting with your left foot, you are going to step forward” Snape began. “Females follow. Starting with your right foot, you are going to step back”.

All students followed Snape’s instruction. This is where many partners learned that the person, they paired up with couldn’t tell left from right, forward and backwards. Which lead to some soft laughter and angry comments.

You and Lorenzo didn’t need to worry. Both of you were coordinated. Comically, but smooth, you did as instructed. As well was Mattheo and Daphne.

“Next” Snape commanded, silence fell once more. “Males, bring you right foot forward and to the right, then close your left foot next to your right. Females, bring your left foot back and to the left, then close with right foot next to your left”. Snape of course demonstrated this movement for everyone.

Once again, coordination was a flower that didn’t grow in many gardens. While you and Lorenzo were flawless. Along with Mattheo and Daphne. Finally, everyone was at the same step.

“Male’s, step back with your right foot. Females, step forward with your left foot” Snape instructed doing as he said. “Males, bring your left foot back and to the left, then close your right foot next to your left. Females, step forward with your right foot and to the right, then close your left foot next to your right”.

Once more everyone followed the instruction and demonstration. Happy to report, this time there were more coordinated students. You followed Lorenzo’s lead, and once more you were both flawless in your movements, prompting you both to smile at the other. Mattheo and Daphne not far behind you both, just as flawless.

Snape pulled away from the female Professor, like he was slightly burned by a flame. “That is the basic steps for The Waltz. I will now give you time to practice the steps together before music is introduced, and we work on timing to tempo”.

Both you and Lorenzo chuckled at Snape, before getting back to the task at hand. Taking position, you both did the step’s Snape had instructed. Once the first square was done, you both continued. Eventually feeling comfortable with the steps, the snooty comical sides came back. Dramatically doing the steps. And soon you had a small audience of the students around you. They laughed and softly cheered. With the final steps to close off the square, Lorenzo spun you out and you both theatrically bowed and curtsied.

“(Y/L/N) and Berkshire!” Called Snape. “Knock off the nonsense”.

You both quickly moved back into position and went back to dancing properly. Neither wanting to face the wrath of Snape. But flashing each other a smile, you enjoyed the silliness.

“Real smooth, getting on Snape’s radar” Theodore commented, moving closer to you both. “Best to stop the shenanigans”.

“Oh? Jealous Nott?” Lorenzo asked with a smirk.

Theodore laughed. “Far from it mate. I don’t want Snape on my case”.

He was right. No one ever wants to be on Snape’s bad side. So silently you and Lorenza agree to pull back on the silliness and take it all a bit more seriously. But it was so hard when this type of dance was boring, and so would the music.

After some time, Snape brought attention back to him, and proceeded to teach the next part. And let’s just say you thought many of the students lacked coordination before, it was ten times worse when music was introduced. Yet in yours and Lorenzo’s case, you both weren’t too bad. At first there was some miss timed steps and even stepping on his foot, but after the first square, you both got smoother and flowed nicely. Even getting praise from Snape.

Unfortunately for Mattheo, his partner took longer to grasp timing with music. And not to mention the amount of times Daphne stepped on his feet. Yes, she managed to step on both multiple times. Eventually she got better, but not quick enough before Snape called an end to dance class. Many students sighed and silently thanked who ever had been listening to their pleas.

Walking out of The Great Hall, you and the three boys headed for the nearby courtyard to relax after an eventful dance lesson. Lounging around under a tree you all recalled moments of the class, from the good, the bad and the tragic.

“I don’t know how that woman could have danced with Snape” mused Theodore. “He’s so wound tight”, he proceeded to sit up stiffly, making you all laugh.

“Bet she’s rethinking her career choice” mused Lorenzo, again making you all laugh.

“I gotta know, what was it like dancing with Daphne?” Questioned Theodore lighting a cigarette. “No doubt you made her day, as she has the biggest crush on you”.

You tensed at the question, and Lorenzo saw it. He gave you a soft look, showing his concern. But you just gave him a small, sad smile.

“It was alright, I guess” replied Mattheo, not noting your silent conversation with your friend. “She’s not that graceful, my feet are witnesses to that”. He laughed shaking his head. “But she wasn’t bad to be with”.

You all joined him in laughter, only yours not as strong as your companions. That last sentence he spoke hit you. Could Mattheo like Daphne? Surely not, she was lack-lustre compared to other girls.

“You going to ask her to The Yule Ball?” Lorenzo asked, side glancing you to gauge your reaction. He wasn’t doing it to hurt you, he wanted you to know if you should get your hopes up or not.

Mattheo snatched the cigarette from Theodore while thinking over the question. Did he want to ask Daphne to The Yule Ball? No. Did he want to ask you? Yes. But the two parts of him were at war. He wanted to ask you, take you because your company was all he needed. But then, the other part of him said you probably wouldn’t go with him, you’d want to go with someone else. Someone you fancied.

“Maybe…” Mattheo thought taking a drag of the cigarette. “See what happens”.

Theodore laughed. “Don’t wait too long to ask her, or any girl really”.

Now it was you who laughed. “Oh please Theo. Any girl who is asked by either of you would say yes. They would even dump their date to go with any of you”.

It was true. You knew from all the gossiping girls; they have all said it at some point. They would dump their date, even their boyfriend for any of your three friends. And you had a front row seat to watch Mattheo with some other girl. You wish you could say it didn’t bother you, but that would be lying. For every flirtation, every flavour of the month killed you to bear witness too.

Theodore scoffed. “You sound jealous my dear (Y/N/N)”.

You laughed dryly. “Oh please. Me? Jealous of you lot? Ah, no”.

  “I think you are” retorted Theodore sitting up straight. “Jealous we’ll have hot dates, while you will end up with someone lower on the food chain, or no date at all”.

Both Theodore and Mattheo laughed, though Mattheo’s was forced and to hide his true feelings. Which was his dislike for his friends’ words.

You felt anger rise in you from Theodore’s words, your cheeks flushing in annoyance. Deciding it was best to remove yourself, you got up from your spot and straightened out your uniform.

“I find your words to be hurtful and callous. So, what if my date end’s up being less than any of you? Does that diminish their worth? What makes you an excellent judge on that?” you retorted with slight venom. “And if I was to go dateless, what about it? It’s not mandatory to have a date”.

Theodore looked up to you, a smirk on his face. “No, it is not mandatory. But people would look at you like you’re pathetic, practically a leper. Am I right Mattheo?”

Your nostrils flared from Theodore’s brazen words, before your heated gaze was on the mentioned boy. You watched Mattheo closely, silently hoping he would disagree with Theodore. That he would stand up for you.

Mattheo swallowed. He knew this was it. “Sorry (Y/N/N), Theo’s got a point”.

As the words rolled off his tongue, each word scorching the appendage, did Mattheo regret those words. He hated himself. And the hurt look you gave him just about killed him. He was about to correct himself before you said your goodbyes and took off.

“Good job idiots” Lorenzo sighed throwing a rock at both his friends, before taking off after you.

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x fem!reader

[mavrintarou]

Lord Gojo Satoru [1]

Hi All, hope you all have been well. I'm going through a writer's block for Toru & Mateo. Bear with me. In the meantime, I can distract you with Lord Gojo #hearteyes

Lord Series masterlist

Part two

Warning: angst, violence (TW: description about past physical abuse Y/n suffered through), smut (18+)

.

Lord Gojo Satoru tossed the last scroll into the flame, destroying the evidence of details about the last remaining elder.

Satoru was known as the young Lord who rosed into his high position by diminishing the elders of his clan.

He was now the head of the Gojo clan.

He now reigns over the clan and will rise to make changes to his desires.

. .

“You must consider marriage and make haste to produce an heir, my Lord!”

Rolling his eyes, Satoru looked out the window, ignoring what the clan members he had chosen were saying.

Approaching the age of 27, he knew he could no longer delay marriage and the prospect of producing an heir. His only challenge was that he found none of the recommended ladies to be deserving of a significant role.

The only woman Satoru has ever believed to fit the role of being his wife and the mother of his children was the very one that he could not have. 

Yet.

As soon as she is found, he will bring her back to his kingdom.

“Any news on her?”

They did not need to ask who he meant, everyone knew he was looking for Y/l/n Y/f/n.

Gojo Satoru has sent special men to search for the woman who has occupied his heart, mind, and soul.

The eleven members glanced nervously amongst each other before one finally replied, “no, my Lord. We will continue to keep searching for her.”

.

.

Y/n turned her head towards the breathless maid running towards her. “Yuko, what is the matter?”

The young maid whom Y/n had watched grow up from a little girl stopped in front of her, leaning against her for support as she tried to catch her breath. “Y/n, someone is looking for you!”

Frowning, Y/n asked, “me? Who?”

Yuko shrugged her shoulders, “I was running errands for our Lady when I heard many talk about the new Lord who has announced a reward if anyone knew any information about…” she paused and looked around before whispering, “Y/l/n Y/f/n.”

Y/n was under a new name given to her by her new house, Yui. She has been using the name Yui for six years. Yuko only knew of her birth name by overhearing a conversation between her mother and Y/n.

Yuko pulls out a heavily folded-up piece of paper, handing it to Y/n. “I took this off the pillar.”

Y/n’s eyes widen when it’s a drawing of her.

.

Y/n served her Lady her evening tea. She bowed her head, bidding her Lady a good night but before she could exit her chamber, her name was called.

“Yuko, you may leave but Yui, please stay for a moment. I have something to discuss with you.”

Y/n nodded her head at Yuko, sliding close the door after her.

Lady Komatsu gestured to the spot across from her.

With carefulness, Y/n set her cane down and was about to lower herself onto the cushion on the floor when she was stopped. “Please, have a seat beside me.”

Taking a seat on the soft couch across from her lady, Y/n quietly asked, “what is it, my Lady?”

Lady Komatsu has been nothing but kind to Y/n, taking her in and generously treating her like a family rather than a maid.

“It has brought to my attention that…” she sighs softly, “someone is looking for you.”

She knew of Y/n’s real identity.

Looking up, Y/n inquired, “do you know… who?”

“Lord Gojo Satoru.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, she was sure it was him but a part of her hoped it was not.

“That was the previous family you served, is that correct?”

Nodding her head, “yes, that is correct. He is the young master.”

“Who is now the head of the Gojo clan.”

Y/n’s eyes widen at the news. Satoru couldn’t have become the head of the clan yet, his father and the other elders…

“He is searching for you…” Lady Komatsu raised a brow at her, “my next question is, do you want to be found?” She threaded her fingers together and placed them on her lap. “If you do, I will release you. If you do not… I will turn a blind eye and not know who this Y/l/n Y/f/n is.”

.

Y/n rubs the achiness in her right knee. Even after almost ten years, the pain would linger now and then…

Reminding her of her place.

Reminding her of her status.

That she was merely a maid for the Gojo house and falling in love with the young master Gojo Satoru was forbidden.

Horrific memories came flooding back as she shut her eyes tightly.

Beaten and bruised Satoru stood before her.

He smiled softly at her even with a swollen and broken lip. “Y/n…”

They both knew their love for each other would never flourish with their different statuses.

Y/n has tried many times to cut it off, to destroy their sad and pathetic love.

Her request to be relocated to a different Gojo site was approved. On the day of her relocation, Satoru caused a predicament and enough was enough from his father.

Y/n cried and tried to pull away from the guards as the other guards beat the young master in front of her.

“Heed this warning, Satoru,” his father gripped the chin of his son, “know your place.” He points a finger at the guards holding Y/n down.

It took Y/n by surprise, the next thing she knew, she was writhing in pain on the ground. She gasped loudly, clenching her teeth as she gripped her right leg. Her knee was bent awkwardly, blood began seeping through her kimono.

Satoru screamed Y/n’s name, trying to crawl towards Y/n but a heavy weight held him down by the back of his neck.

With one foot pressing down on his son,  he looks down at his son with cold hard eyes, “this is all your doing, Satoru. Next time,” his tone is icy, “it won’t end with just a broken knee.”

That was the last time they saw each other. Y/n was moved to an unknown location, sold, and served under a different master and family.

It has been six years and she couldn’t deny the knowledge of hearing him search for her after all these years.

But why?

“If you do, I will release you. If you do not… I will turn a blind eye and not know who this Y/l/n Y/f/n is.”

Y/n closed her eyes.

“Can I have some time to think about this?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Of course, think about it.” Lady Komatsu smiled, “I want you to be happy, Y/n.”

Can she truly be happy?

What was Lord Gojo’s motives?

.

Weeks passed and rumors continued that a young Lord was looking for a woman.

Locals have all turned down when being asked because only very few have ever seen Y/n and are aware that she is assigned to the Komatsu house. Maids leaving the compound were restricted and only a few were assigned to be the designated one to run errands outside the compound.

Y/n was serving her lady their afternoon tea when loud commotions were coming from outside.

“I’ll go check,” Y/n assured, setting the kettle down.

She hurried out to the corridor and froze.

Standing no more than twenty feet in front of her is Lord Gojo Satoru.

His eyes trail down to the cane she used for years. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks at Y/n in the eyes once more.

“My… Lord,” she barely whispered against the wind.

He stood before her in a blink of an eye, he closed the last remaining distance between them. His long arms wrapped around her frame, holding her close.

.

“Come with me,” Satoru squeezed her hands firmly, he had not been able to let go of her since he touched her. “Come home with me,” he pleaded softly. He looked across at Lady Komatsu and turned his body. “Please, allow Y/n to leave with me. I will compensate for the time you’ve taken care of –“

Lady Komatsu held a hand up, silencing Satoru. “You will not need to, Lord Gojo.” She looks over at Y/n, who is still looking down at hers and Satoru’s hands. “If Y/n wishes to leave with you, I will release her.”

Y/n lifts her head and at Lady Komatsu, her eyes brimmed with tears. “I do, I want to leave with… Satoru.” She turned her gaze to Satoru’s crystal blue eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks, “I want to go home with you.”

.

Satoru watched as Y/n strolled through the compound she had once called home, a place filled with both beautiful and painful memories. It was where their love had initially blossomed and later suffered.

The place where they last encountered years ago has undergone a beautiful transformation into a flower garden, adoring exclusively with her favorite flowers. He made sure only her favorite flowers bloomed there.

He could not see her face, but he knew the painful memories of that day were replaying in her head. Taking a few strides, Satoru hugged her tightly from behind. His left hand moved to cover her eyes, “I cannot erase that moment from your life, but what I can do and I promise you, I will create new moments to overcome them so that you will never have to fear it anymore.” He felt her tears against his palm and he slowly moved his hand away. “I have planted all your favorite flowers, see how it’s blooming for you… each time it withers at the end of each season and blooms at the beginning of the new season… it is a means of new life and starting over…” Satoru turned her around and tilted her chin upward. “It is a new season, Y/n. Please, start over with me?”

Y/n gazed longingly into his beautiful eyes. She reached up to cup his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing his cheekbones. She still could not believe that he was in front of her. “Satoru…”

Satoru gazes longingly at Y/n, “let us start again, together, with no one to interfere with our love.” The spark in her eyes turned into pain and sadness. He frowned, “do – do you not want to start again?”

“We are too different, my Lord.”

His light blue eyes darkened. All his life, he had only ever loved Y/n, yet everyone, Y/n including now, always told him they were different. “How? You are a human just like me? Are you not?”

His breath hitched when she pulled away from him, taking a step back. “You know how, my Lord. We are from different statues.” Her head bows, “you know clearly how it will not work for us.”

“Then why did you agree to come home with me?” He gritted through his teeth. He sees her flinch and he takes a step back, releasing a deep breath while running a hand through his hair.

Her sharp inhale before she spoke, “forgive me, my Lord. I was selfish and greedy at that moment and acted without the right mind. If – if you want to send me back I will gladly return.” She bowed.

Satoru closed his eyes and exhaled quietly. He opened his eyes, they were hard and cold, “look at me Y/n.”

She straightened her posture and looked straight ahead, but not at him. He found no light in her eyes like he did before.

A low growl rumbles from his chest before he tugs her swiftly into his embrace, locking his arms tightly around her. He won’t let her go. If he has to chain her by his side for the rest of his life, he will.

“I don’t care about our status. I love you,” he emphasized the three last words. He pulled away abruptly and cupped Y/n’s face to force her to look straight into his eyes, “I love you, Y/n.” His large hands gently tighten around her head, emphasizing his words. “I. Love. You. You, Y/n.” Satoru’s eyes softened and their touch lightened, “I have loved you for a long time and all these years.”

Y/n shut her eyes, tears spilled down her cheeks. “Satoru…” she wept quietly, “can you love someone like me? I am damaged.”

“Nonsense,” he growled, “you are not damaged at all.” Satoru was aware of the societal stigma associated with a woman perceived as ‘damaged’. Society would label her as such because of the limp she now bears.

“I am selfish,” Satoru whispered. “I am the reason why you now bear this limp for the rest of your life and I should do the right thing and let you go,” his fingers brushed her hair behind her ear, “but I cannot.”

“No my Lord – “

“But it is my life and my heart that I will offer to you,” his eyes stared deeply into her soft hazel ones, “I will give you everything I own, everything I possess,” he wiped her tears away, “so please, be with me. Stay with me. You are all I want. What I need to live.” He pressed her palm to his lips, “marry me, be my Lady, Lady Gojo.”

Y/n shut her eyes, tears rolled down her cheeks before she let out a soft sigh. She opened her eyes, and this time, they filled with hope, “you still wish to marry me even though I have no family and dowery to offer to you?”

“Yes. I have everything for us,” his blue eyes twinkle brightly. “You only need me and I only need you.”

She smiled, “yes, I only need you. I would love to marry you, my Lord.”

. .

“What are you doing?”

Y/n froze as she poured water to fill the tub. “I am getting the bath ready?” She answered warily, she wasn’t sure why the head maid was stunned.

Sumiko quickly marched forward and gently took the bucket out of her hands, “my Lady, if Lord Gojo hears about you getting your own bath ready he will fire us all.” With a hand motion, four other maids entered the bathroom and began filling the tub with hot water. “I understand you have done this all your life but starting now, it will be far different. You must let us know and we will prepare it for you.”

Y/n nodded speechless as Sumiko guided her to the living room, “please wait here, my Lady. Give us five more minutes, we will have your bath ready.”

“Of course,” Y/n waited patiently until a voice informed her that her bath was ready.

Y/n was amazed that within five minutes they were able to fill the large tub with water and added essential oil that calmed the air in the room.

Putting her cane aside, she began to undress before entering the tub. Releasing a gentle sigh, she lowered herself further into the water until she was completely submerged.

Emerging slowly above the water’s surface, she gasped at the sight of Satoru standing before her, naked.

She gawked at his toned chisel body before looking away, cheeks reddening. Her arms crossed over her chest. She looked up at him again when he moved to step into the tub, her eyes catching a glimpse of his manhood, semi-erect. “My – my Lord…”

Satoru submerged himself up to his chin and moved towards her until he was in front of her. “Satoru.”

Y/n avoided his eyes, “o – okay…”

His lips curve upward, “say it.”

She looked into his eyes, confused.

“Say my name, Y/n.”

“S – Satoru…”

“Again.”

“Satoru.”

“Again.”

“Satoru. Gojo Satoru.” Y/n growled slightly frustrated at his persistent requests.

Satoru let out a chuckle, “that is all you can call me.”

“Don’t tease me,” she murmured, looking away.

Sitting down, Satoru grabs her legs and puts them on his lap. “But you look so adorable fluttered.” He grabbed her right foot and began massaging it. His grip tightened when she tried to pull away. “Relax, Y/n…”

She bit her lower lip and stopped struggling. “I’m – I’m not used to this…”

“Not used to what?” His thumb pressed into the arch of her foot and smiled when she let out a soft and quiet moan. “Not used to being pampered?”

“Y – yes…” she nodded, “having… things done for me… it is weird, my L – Sa – Satoru…”

A smile tugs the corner of his lips, “well, get used to it my love, you are my queen and you deserve to be treated like one.” His fingers shifted to her ankle and then her calf, and slowly his fingers reached the scar. He heard Y/n’s sharp inhale. “I was stripped away from you, I was weak then and could not protect you…” his thumb rubbed the long scar. “I am sorry.” He lifted her knee gently above the water and for the first time, he was able to see the horrendous scar. “If only…” his voice croaked, “if only you received the best care…” then you wouldn’t have a limp now, Satoru swallowed the rest of his words in silence, pressing his forehead against her knee. “Nothing will ever harm you again, I promise. I’ll protect you.”

A small hand lifted his head, “I believe you.”

Like a puppy, Satoru leaned into her palm. “I have waited for a long time to be with you again, I won’t ever let anyone take you away from me.” He moved closer to kiss her lips softly.

Y/n cupped his face, bringing him closer.

Satoru shifted over to situate himself in between her legs, his fingers tracing along her inner thigh until they reached her sacred moist spot. The tip of his fingers tickled her folds, his eyes on her, attentive to her reactions.

She let out a soft sigh, one of her hands trailing down his arm and to the hand waiting for her permission. She peered up at him at the same time as she guided his finger to slip past her folds. Her breath hitched at the intrusion but he continued to push his finger deeper inside her.

His heart beat loudly and rapidly as her warm and soft walls clenched around his finger tightly. Instantly, his cock became erect, begging to replace his finger.

Y/n’s soft whimpers encouraged him to pump his finger faster until he was easily slipping one finger through her tight hole, he added another finger. “Am – am I the first to touch you like this?”

“Yes. Yes, Satoru…” she confirmed, easing his anxiety away. “You – you are the only one I’ve ever wanted…”

His crystal blue eyes gleamed, and she left him speechless. She could make him weak to his knees for her.

His fingers continued to thrust in and out of her, her whimpers gradually turned into moans echoing softly throughout the bathroom. He pressed down on her clit, circling the needy nub until she trembled under his touch.

Her small body curled up, eyes shut tightly as her small hands covered her mouth to prevent her moans from leaking.

Satoru chuckled lightly to himself, finding her adorable.

Very gently, he withdrew his fingers and let out a shaky breath.

“Y/n,” he called her name in a pleading tone, she opened her eyes and stared into his darker blue eyes. Her eyes drop down, seeing his other hand fisting and stroking his hard cock. “Give me your permission, Y/n. Permit me to take you, and make you mine?”

Without hesitating, she nodded, “yes, Satoru – my body is yours…”

Satoru’s radiant smile caused Y/n’s heart to flutter; in her eyes, he was the most captivating man.

“I have been waiting for this moment and I cannot wait a second longer.” Satoru easily lifted her out of the water, stepping out of the tub. He set her down on her feet, an arm wrapped around her waist as he reached for her yukata and helped her slip it on. Once it was in place, Satoru swept her off her feet, carrying her like a child in the crook of his arm.

“S – Satoru!” Y/n exclaimed, wrapping her arm tightly around his neck. It shocked her that he could carry her with just one arm.

Without covering himself, he walked down the hall naked until he stopped in front of a door. “This is our room.”

Y/n gasped at the size of it, it was a large room filled with decorations and furniture. Against the wall was a platform bed.

“But we aren’t married yet?”

Laying her down in the middle of the bed, Satoru hovers over her, “we will soon. As soon as I can orchestrate it. I don’t want to wait another second without you being where you belong, in my arms every day and night.” He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing her knuckles to his lips. “I know I am being greedy, but please, don’t deny me.”

Y/n’s lips curve into a smile, “how can I? I could never refuse you before, how could I now?”

His head rests against hers as he closes his eyes and murmurs, “I can’t believe you’re really in front of me.”

Y/n’s nose intimately brushes his, “I can’t believe it either… it has been so long…”

The second Satoru opened his eyes again, they were once dark and filled with lust. His hand loosens her yukata, revealing her beauty. He first pecks her lips, chin, and chest before stopping at the valley of her breast. Both his hands grasp her bosom, groping them.

Y/n’s legs widen to accommodate his body, she gasped each time she felt something graze her sensitive clit. “’Toru…”

He missed his name as he was distracted by her perky dark pink nipples. Unable to decide which one he should first suckle, he opted for the left side first.  He had been dying to taste her small nipples the moment he saw them during their bath.

Satoru moaned, swirling his tongue against it. He peered up, watching her face twist in pleasure.

Y/n whimpered when he shifted to the other nipple, she couldn’t believe how turned on she felt just from him suckling her bosom like a baby.

An image of a baby, with platinum white hair and blue eyes appeared before her imagination, her heart wanting nothing more.

“’Toru…” Y/n implored, “g – give me a baby… put a baby in me – please?”

When Satoru’s eyes bulged, Y/n felt foolish at her request. She looked away, hiding her face. “Ignore my request…”

Her eyes widened when she felt something push in between her legs, push into the passage where his fingers were thrusting in and out of moments ago. This time, it was of something bigger and thicker.

“Shh,” Satoru purred, slowly inching his cock deeper into her pussy. His body tensed at her tightness, thinking he had loosened her up enough to accommodate his cock.

He nearly lost his control at her request to put a baby in her. If he was honest with himself, the idea of children wasn’t on his mind. For several years, all he wanted was just to reunite with his love once again. To hear her innocent request, he was willing to oblige. He will give her as many of his children as she wants.

Satoru groaned when he could no longer push further into her pussy, she had taken all of him, just as she was meant to. He glanced between their now sweaty bodies, they were one, a unity. “Haa,” he choked, he shifted his weight to his elbows and knees so he would squish her. She was so tiny compared to him. Staring down at her, his whole body dwarfed hers.

He let out a husky chuckle, “my love, you humor me. You say that it is too early to share a room because we are not married yet but you request for me to put a baby in you…”

“Don’t – don’t tease me,” Y/n stammer, blushing. “Oh – Satoru… you’re – you’re so big…” her nails dug into the skin of his arms. She has been educated that the first time being intimate would bring discomfort but with time, it would bring nothing but pleasure. Letting out a deep breath, she relaxed her body the best she could. She looked into his dark eyes, “I love it…”

Satoru’s ears were ringing as he tried to control his urge to thrust. He was nearly coming undone at just being inside of her alone, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold off once she allowed him to move. “Love – love what?”

“I love how you feel… inside me,” she rested a hand against her bulging abdomen. “Here… I can feel you here.”

“Oh, Y/n…” Satoru groaned. “Please… let me move…” he begged.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, “do as you wish.”

Satoru kept a steady slow pace at first, giving her time to adjust to his movements. He was attentive to her moans and the way her body reacted before speeding up his hips.

The room filled with their sweaty skin slapping skin.

“Going to fill you up… fill you with my seed… give you my heir…” Satoru whispered hotly into her ear. His arms slipped behind her back, hugging her close as he neared his orgasm.

“Yes! Yes, Satoru!” Y/n chanted, widening her legs so he could impale her deeper.

Satoru’s body anchored her petite one down as his lower region was the only part pounding deeply inside her. The bed rocked with his hard and heavy thrusts.

“Ah,” they gasped in unison.

Lifting Y/n upward, he settled her on his lap, still embedded deeply inside her. She clung on to him while his cock continued to convulse.

Her head buried into his chest, she mumbled something he couldn’t understand.

“Hmm, what did you say?”

She lifted her head, her face flushed from their passionate lovemaking. “It was amazing…”

Satoru let out a laugh, Y/n joining him with her giggles. “I’m glad… you enjoyed it. There will be plenty more of it…”

. . .

E/N: This is going to be literally porn with a plot.

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