#(this was written like a month ago i just finally got around to editing it) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gracieheartspedro · 3 months

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More Than Friends

how to help the Palestinian people

pairing: best friend!ellie williams x fem!reader (set in the jackson era)

description: you and ellie have been friends for awhile. while at a party for tommy’s birthday, you try to catch the attention of your crushes. sadly, they are all over each other. in a childish effort to get them to pay attention, you two try to make them jealous. 'cause that always ends the way you think, right?

word count: 3.3k words

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, smut, wlw, f!receiving oral (reader), fingering, jealousy, semi-public sex, dirty talk, tons of nicknames, no mentions of reader's appearance. talks of sexuality, but it's vague. reader wants to fuck whoever, it doesn't matter lol. let me know if I missed anything!

author's note: I wrote this after watching one too many ellie edits on tik tok. it was written in two hours, so it's not my finest work but it scratched my little ellie itch. okay, much love xoxoxoxxo

“So… you really like Dina, huh?”

Her face twists immediately at the question. She throws herself back in the wooden chair, cursing under her breath. Her arms cross over her chest, her t-shirt riding up a bit above her jeans.

You saw the way Ellie looked at Dina. She looks at her like she hung the moon. She was always fumbling over her words around her, nervous to say the wrong thing. When she did try to flirt, it came up awkward and strained. And you understood her predicament because you were the same way about Jesse.

You both were pining after two people in a committed relationship.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” She mumbles, gesturing towards the center of the room where Dina and Jesse slow danced. He was leaning down to whisper something in her ear and it made your stomach flip. “She would never go for me.”

You felt bad for Ellie. She was everything you wished you were yourself; beautiful and funny. You felt like you were the only one, besides the Millers, who got her dry humor. You two had met in class about two years ago, now. You were a newcomer to Jackson, arriving about two months prior with your mom. When you got seated next to Ellie, you could tell her give-no-fucks attitude would mesh well with your give-too-many-fucks attitude. Over the years, you two had really rubbed off one another. You two were inseparable.

“You’re the whole package, Els,” You say before nudging her shoulder with your elbow. You two are moping at a table near the exit of the food hall. It was Tommy’s birthday celebration, so everyone in Jackson got together to plan a big bash for him. Ellie felt obligated to come and your mom was pretty close to Maria. More time spent with your best friend wasn’t time wasted, so here you are.

“At least she shows you the time of day,” You say under your breath.

Jesse had been pretty flippant with you. He could never remember your name, let alone that you two shared the same street in Jackson. You also once shared a table at the mess hall. He was so tall and strong. Your crush on him was more physical than it was emotional. He was funny, sure, but you mainly just wanted to get him alone.

“Why are we doing this to ourselves?” She ponders, finally looking away from the canoodling couple across the room, “We could do so much better!”

You know she’s just trying to convince herself of something she doesn’t really believe. The tone of her voice changes when she’s lying.

“Like who? Slim pickin’s out here, Ellie. We have them and maybe 4 other undesirable people. There’s always the butcher’s son, he always had eyes for you.”

She grabs her cup from the table in front of you, “Yeah, men are… not my type.”

You turn your body so your legs are nudging her thighs, “Then, you really don’t have any choices.”

She nods her lips in a thin line. “I wish I could just.. Just go up there and talk to her. Ya know?”

“Why can’t you?”

“The same reason you can’t just go up and talk to Jesse.”

You roll your eyes, leaning forward on your knees. Your body is practically in her bubble, but she just sits back with her arm over the back of your chair.

You and Ellie had no real boundaries. You had no qualms about physical touch and Ellie never said anything or seemed to mind. You two have shared a horse countless times and even a bed. She never steered away from you.

“Well, Dina will talk to you if she sees other girls talking to you,” you state, reflecting on the last time everyone in Jackson got together. Some random girl came up to you two and as soon as Dina saw Ellie laughing with the other girl, she scrambled across the room to see what the fuss was about. You saw the same glint in her eyes that Ellie had.

For some reason, it made you kind of jealous.

You never tried to explore those knee-jerk emotions you had for Ellie. She was your best friend and you were positive she never felt romantic feelings towards you. Plus, you weren’t sure of your feelings about your sexuality. You always told Ellie you just liked who you liked, not really putting any importance on what was between their legs. You weren’t very experienced, but you had hooked up with both genders and liked it all equally.

“That was a coincidence, bug.”

That stupid nickname that she called you. Born from the one time you practically attracted every infected in the area with your scream over a huge beetle. She could not let it go and ended up calling you bug, just to annoy you.

You finally look up at her freckled face, waiting for her to crack a smile. When you squint at her with contempt, she smirks.

“Why don’t we find another girl and test the theory?”

She glances around the populated party, “Everyone here is over the age of 40.”

You turn back to the crowd of people around you and see that she’s right.

You mull it over, your brain working to find a way that you both could get their attention. You two could simply say fuck it and go watch a movie and forget this stupid encounter happened. Joel would probably chew Ellie out, but when doesn’t he do that?

Your next idea is something dangerous but something you had thought about before. You had never brought up the idea to Ellie because you were afraid of her reaction.

“What’s your idea?”

She could read you like a book. You pursed your lips, wondering if you should even propose the idea to her.

“How desperate are you?”

She laughs out loud, completely taken aback by the query. “Jesus, what are you thinkin’?”

You lick your lips, trying to make sure the idea comes out as a whisper.

“Why don’t we make them jealous? Just you and me?”

“How though?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “Well, I’m a girl.”

You glance back at where Dina and Jesse were just dancing. They are both now facing you two’s direction, Jesse engrossed in a conversation with Tommy. Dina is just sipping from her glass, not really staring anywhere specific.

You look back at Ellie who’s also looking at her, but meets your eyes when your face gets closer to hers.

You would tell her how beautiful she was all the time and she just would roll her eyes and change the subject. You were physically attracted to her and there had been a couple of times you had thought about kissing her and wondered what her lips would feel like against yours.

But she was your best friend.

“Wrap your arm over my back,” You are still positioned, your elbows on your knees, your knees facing her thighs, “And rub it.”

She furrows her eyebrows, but she submits and brings the arm that is slouched over the chair to your lower back. You nod, watching as her lids lower. Her hand creeps up and down your side, her fingers grazing your ribs, up to your side boob. “Now what, bug?”

“Now, slowly move your hand up my back,” She does it as you’re speaking and the movement makes the hairs on your arms stand up, “Grab the nape of my neck.”

“Why are you making me do this?”

You lift up off your hands, bringing your face closer to hers. She doesn’t budge, sitting still and only focused on you and your words.

“Because,” Her hand grabs the back of your neck, before slowly bringing it forward to collar bone. The gentleness of her touch and the fact that it’s your Ellie, makes every sense heightened. You don’t even realize how her touch is making you feel until you see her crack a smile.

“Because why?” She whispers, her voice teasing.

“Cause I want them to see you touch me.”

It comes out needy and desperate. Her eyes change when it slips from your lips, instead of being playful, she’s looking at you like you’re her next meal. She leans forward, her face millimeters from yours.

You had never talked to Ellie like this but at this moment, you were completely transfixed on her. She was wearing a flannel over her shoulders covering her usual gray t-shirt. The sleeves were rolled up exposing the tattoo Cat did on her a year ago.

You always thought it was hot, the way it trailed up her arm from her delicate wrist.

Her jeans are ripped and her legs and man-spreaded like she was carrying something in her jeans.

And she smelled like pine. You loved it when you got the privilege to sleep next to her because her linens always smelled like her. You would love the idea of getting into bed with her right now.

“How do you want me to touch you?”

You chew the inside of your lip, “Any way you want to.”

She chuckles before brushing her hand down your exposed arm, “Is this for the bit or do you want me to genuinely touch you?”

You notice her being sincere. You think back to all the times you joked about sleeping with Ellie, and while at the time you chalked them up to being jokes, deep down, maybe it’s actually what you wanted.

With the way she’s looking at you now, you prayed on every star that she would continue pushing your buttons. That somehow she would forget Dina even exists and realize it was you all along.

“Hey guys,” Her voice brings you out of your horny daze. It was the last voice you were expecting, and you can tell by the look on Ellie’s face, she is thinking the same thing.

“Oh, hey Dina!” You quip up, not moving all the much to ensure she sees Ellie’s hand on your bicep.

“You two busy?” The way she asks is almost too demanding. You glance back over at Ellie whose color is draining from her face.

You shake your head, finally sitting up. Ellie’s hand doesn’t leave you though, instead, it just drops to your thigh. You try not to acknowledge it, as you notice Jesse coming up behind Dina. But now it feels so heavy against your legs, the weight of the situation finally hitting you.

It worked.

“We are just talking,” Ellie manages, her voice cracking.

Jesse comes up behind Dina, wrapping his arms around her. You’re suddenly grateful that Ellie’s hand is still on you, the jitters hitting your system subsiding by the physical feeling of her being so near.

“Looked like more than that,” Jesse jokes, his smile taking up a lot of his face, “You good Ellie?”

“Ellie was just telling me about the patrol she just went on with Jesse,” You explain quickly, making sure to look at Dina and not Jesse. “She told me about the infected y’all ran into!”

“Oh yeah, shit was crazy,” Jesse squeezes Dina tighter, “We gotta get back out there again, Ellie. You were a beast at taking those suckers down.”

“U-uh yeah, absolutely.”

You grab her hand as a reassurance. The exchange gets awkward quickly, none of you knowing what else to say.

“Well, we should get goin’,” Dina says tapping Jesse’s arms, “See you two around?”

You two just nod. They walk away, not saying much of anything else. You stare at the wall, humiliated by the last 10 minutes of your life. You were unsure if you could even look Ellie in the eyes again.

Ellie huffs loudly, sitting further back in her chair. “Well, that failed.”

You start to agree until that little bit of Ellie that’s rubbed off on you starts to come up your throat. The not-giving-much-of-a-fuck is creeping up on you.

“Did it? Because I think it went exactly how I wanted it to.”

You finally return your eyes to her bewildered expression. You pull her hand off your lap as you stand up, yanking her up after you.

“You wanted it to go like that? What was the point?”

You pull her closer to you before raising your lips up to her ear. Her hair is tucked behind the crest of her ear, so it tickles your nose a bit before you speak.

She turned you on, so now you needed her to do something about it. Here’s to not giving a fuck.

“The point was to get you to finally touch me.”

The temperature in the room rises a million degrees. Ellie’s eyes light up at the statement and you know that was exactly what she wanted to hear before Dina came up to you.

You start to pull her towards the kitchen door, right near your table. You remember finding a hidden supply closet back there last Christmas party. Your skin was on fire as you dragged her through the appliances to the somewhat large closet. It was practically empty, void of anything anyone at the party may need, so it was safe. Plus it had a lock.

As soon as the door shuts behind her, Ellie’s on you. Her lips hit yours and it was exactly how you imagined it. She was quick and eager with her kisses, her tongue plunging into your mouth immediately. She was grabbing your hips, pushing you towards the wall where all the brooms and mops were. You try not to trip, giggling as you pull her face closer to you.

“So this is what you wanted?” She pulls away from you for a breath, “Using making Dina jealous as a ploy to get to finally kiss you?”

Your hands find the spot above the hem of her jeans, right under her t-shirt. Out of instinct, you start to unbutton her pants.

“Actually, that wasn’t the plan.”

Her eyes are trained on your lips, “Is that so?”

“No, but you were playing the part way too well and I realized something.”

“What did you realize?”

The overhead light was so dim but you could still somehow see her cute freckles.

“That I want you more than I want anyone else. I need you to touch me more often.”

She chuckles, her fingers still pressed into your hips, “Well, bug, I’m touching you just like you asked.”

She drags kisses up your jaw and neck. You try not to fall apart over that alone. Ellie always talked about how inexperienced she was, but she’s probably the most tentative kisser you have ever encountered.

“Can you touch me here?”

You press your hands to the zip of your jeans. She looks down at your body to where you’re touching and she clicks her tongue.

“Ask politely, baby, and I’ll do anything you want.”

The nickname change makes your heart stop.

“Can you, my sweet best friend, touch me and get me off? Please?”

She groans at the question, a sound you never thought she’d make for you.

“Of course,” She grabs the belt loops of your pants before yanking them down your legs without resistance, “What are friends for?”

You know you’re soaked by the way she smiles up at you. She gets down on her knees, looking up at you, as her hands slowly start to spread your legs. You are standing against a wall, watching your best friend’s face creep close to your center.

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. She pulls at your panties, toying with the fabric before you take matters into your own hands and pull them down your legs.

She brings her lower lip between her teeth, “This wet for me?”

You could slap the stupid smirk off her face, but before you can even say something snarky back, she slips her digits between your glistening slit. Your body practically buckles at the prodding, so you brace yourself against the shelf next to you.

Your normal reaction to feeling good is to close your legs together tightly, but Ellie has her left hand mounted to your inner thigh, keeping you open for her, while the other one is slowly creeping up to your weeping hole. She’s gentle when she puts one finger inside you.

Once your body reacts around her, she pulls her finger out to inspect how wet you are. After she’s satisfied with her findings, she adds another which causes you to mewl at the sensation.

“Ellie, please,” You beg, trying to get more friction. She’s not letting you do anything but watch.

“Mmm,” She hums before moving her face closer to you, “Love to hear you moan my name, bug. You wanna be a good girl? Keep begging.”

You never took Ellie as someone who loves to hear her sexual partner beg, but it turns you on even more.

You watch her close in on your clit, her tongue finding the bud and flicking it a couple of times. The moans that come out of your mouth are so deprived. Her fingers slip so seamlessly in and out of you, that you try to remember a time you were so wet. Nothing comes to mind because all your brain is thinking is Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

“Please, please,” you plead, trying your best to egg her on so she goes faster. It works because she picks up the pace fucking you. Her mouth suddenly closes around your clit, and she sucks.

Your one hand is still gripping onto whatever is next to you, but your other hand has to rest somewhere. Her short brown locks are right there, so you grab on.

Her mouth leaves your clit, and instead, her tongue licks up and down your weeping hole. When you bring her closer in, her nose starts to stimulate your sensitive bud.

The sounds are so wet and depraved, you’re sure the bubbling in your stomach is about to come to a tipping point. You find yourself grinding forward, trying to get friction on your clit again. Her nose prods the spot over and over again as you grind down onto her face.

Ellie hums as she fucks you, trying her best to push your limit. You know you’re close and you are sure she can feel how tight your pussy is gripping onto her fingers. She knows you’re close so she kicks it up a notch and shakes her head between your folds. That motion alone sends a tidal wave within you crashing to the shore. You pull her hair so hard, you know it probably hurts but fuck, you needed her to feel how good she was making you feel.

The white-hot feeling starts to subside and you are panting like you just ran a mile. You finally release Ellie’s head, letting her come up for air. Her lips are saturated with your slick and it looks like she’s drunk on you by the way her eyes are half shut. She pulls her two fingers out of your tight hole, making you whine at the emptiness.

She stands up, bringing her two fingers up to your lips.

“Wanna see how good you taste?”

She’s so fucking dirty. It gets you so riled up.

You grab onto her wrist and bring the fingers up to your mouth. You suck them dry, giving into how absurd this is.

“You’re a freak, too,” She beams at you, before bringing you into another feverish kiss. You were so mesmerized by her. She grabs onto your hips, pulling your naked bottom half to her still-clothed legs.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” You grumble, still recovering from the drilling you just had. Her hands travel up your sides, under your t-shirt. She is holding onto your ribcage, looking at your exposed tummy as the shirt rides up.

“I didn’t think you’d go for me, especially when guys like Jesse are your type,” She explains, so enthralled by the way your body looks to her, “I don’t know if I can let him have you, now.”

You smirk, your hands twisting around her shoulders, “Oh, I see. Well, if he can’t have me, then Dina can’t have you.”

“Well, thank God they have each other, then.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams oneshot #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #gracieheartspedro #tlou ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut

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puhmpken · 2 months

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Author’s Note: This one is a filler since I am still working on “Dairy of the Obsessed” ..this one was spontaneous lmfaoo! Also requests are open feel free to give me story ideas

This has BEEN edited 🥳🎉

Warning ⚠️-> If you’re under the age of 18+ DONT interact with this post, this is your only & final warning! I do not & will not take responsibility for anything further!

You have been warned

Title: A Shape-Shifter’s Dilemma

Alastor x Reader Oneshot

written + edited by @puhmpkins-blog 🎃

W/C: 5.1K 😀 oops maybe too much lol my imagination got the better of me but please enjoy!

You always questioned where Alastor your husband would go. Most of the time you would brush it off and not think of it—Overlord stuff.

But one night while Al and you slept in the same bed he tossed and turned in his sleep you could assume he was having a nightmare

“honey..?” You said in a low ruff voice as you gently placed a hand on Alastor who stops his moving before the word he mutters out was

“charlie..”

...Now that is odd. Why would a overlord like Alastor be saying the princess of hells name in the middle of his sleep?

It made you raise a eyebrow, and questioned him.

The day following did not seem to ease your nerves one bit, he again in rather ..a rush to leave the manor

Standing next to the front doors door you watched as he moved back and forth through the living room looking for whatever he was desiring

“What's rushing for darling? This is rather out of character” You said as your eyes watched him move throughout the room

“Oh nothing to concern yourself with dearie!~ Just overlord business”

You hummed back at his bland cryptic response not wanting to pick it apart–you just decided not to question it and save yourself the energy

“Right. Just don’t go get yourself in trouble” You said smiling at Alastor standing infront of you, slightly towering over you as you fixed and cleaned off any dirt or lent that got caught on his suit as he was in your words rushing around

Moving your hands away from him, your eyes locked with his as Alastor’s reddish brown eyes, a flicker of amusement dancing within them. His lips curved from a small smile into a sly smirk, revealing his pointy teeth.

“Trouble?,” he questioned, making his one of his eyebrows raise in a cocky way , “Why..thats my middle name, my dear.” He said clasping and holding both your hands as he stared at you, before shrugging “But perhaps maybe I’ll make an exception—for you.”

You rolled your eyes to your husband's playful antics, before giving Alastor his goodbye kiss and waving him bye as he sinks into his shadow disappearing leaving you alone in the manor.

A moment of silent filling the air before

“Now, let me figure out WHAT’S actually happening.”

And that’s how this whole shenanigan began with you.

You see, while Alastor might have been expected to marry some ordinary demon, you in your case, were far from ordinary. As a shape-shifting demon, you possessed the ability to transform your identity at will, becoming a whole new demon or a manifestation of whatever your imagination desired.

The only limitations were those of your own imagination or..if Alastor was able to sniff you out, thanks to his keen sense of smell. HOWEVER, avoiding detection was usually easy enough… for the most part.

Weeks to months you’ve been keeping up on this “routine” of cat and mouse but all was paying off.

You found out Al has been to much of your dismay harboring rather a couple of secrets hidden and tucked from you. Other than your known overlord stuff he was a suppose helper at a hotel called the “Hazbin Hotel” that princess charlie owns and works at with a couple of other people almost made you drop with laughter when you first seen Alastor helping out with the hotel, you had to tell Rosie about this later.

It was easy to stay undercover and even easier to get close to him without him realizing and knowing it was you.

You made up your mind weeks ago that his territory would be fine, if you step away here and there to follow Alastor to the hotel

And that’s how you end up to the present day you.

You weren’t satisfied with knowing Alastor helps at a hotel. Yes indeed it was a shocker but that’s all? You were still puzzled on why Al said Charile name to began with

Alastor hasn’t suspected a thing yet due to him kinda being busy at the hotel or up in his office.

On the rare times you would see him, he was up in the upper balcony with nifty laughing with her, you couldn’t hear what they were talking about but knowing the both of them.. it was rather something strange or gruesome

As another shifted ended, the day ended with you back at the manor seating in your comfortable loveseat, reading a book before mere minutes Al got back, making it seem as normal as possible to not raise suspicions

The next day as things moved along you wished Alastor a goodbye as you watched him shift into the shadows and disappear off.

Waiting a few minutes after he left you then began to get ready for your shift at the hotel, that first started with showering to rid yourself of your natural scents–you didn’t want to be tackled down by your husband as soon as you walk in through the door.

Finishing up with your shower you stepped out spraying some random cheap perfume you had bought to scramble Al scents.

As you began styling yourself from being a lady of the 1920s with elegant beauty and designer dresses to a ripped petite coat, old bleach stained black skirt with a hole at the bottom with a finish messy down hairstyle

You laughed at your reflection

Seeing what you looked like in your normal form made you laugh. Alastor would probably gasp and dropped to his knees at the things you wore.

You walked out the house being sure to not be seen

Successfully making it past the fenced gates and out of the woods you came to the main roads of hell shifting yourself into a hell creature you have been using for this whole little “spying game”

A lengthy white fur being that stood, 6ft having two red stripes covering both arms and legs. Your (h/c) just reached the middle of your back and on your head sat two cream colored pointy horns, you kept your sharp teeth to still be able to scare off unwanted demons if the occasion was to rise

Checking yourself out in the reflection of the glass windows, you made sure everything was correct: your look, your attire and your scent.

You started to walk to the hotel, the sidewalk you have taken at least more than ten times.

As you inched closer to the hotel you for safe measures stopped and sprayed yourself down one more time in cheap perfume emptying the bottle before tossing it off in the distances and kept walking

Getting inside the hotel was an easy task,

You said hello to everyone vaggie, angeldust, sir pentious and his eggo children, huskier and nifty.

‘Everyone is down here practically–well almost everyone’ looking around furrowing your eyebrows together

“Where Charlie? She's usually with you, Vag?” You said to Vaggie who was sitting on the couch next to Angel looking at the TV

“She should be in her office right now Lucy. I think she also wanted to talk to you” Vaggie said kinda nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders towards the end as she looked up from the tv to you as you nodded your head

Making a hum noise you turned on your heel and began walking to Charlie office

Knocking before you entered, Charlie sat at her desk looking at papers

“Helluva morning Charlie. Vaggie was telling me you were looking for me, I just wanted to speak to you about what you wanted” You said as you walked towards her desk and seating down in one of the chairs across from it

Charlie still having her go lucky smile on her face nodded putting down a couple of papers “Yes Vaggie was right! I was looking for you Lucy!” She said pausing as she slide over a little stack of paperwork, “It’s nothing serious promise! I just wanted you to run these up to Al~!”

You nodded silently thanking hell for the opportunity to be closer to Al

“Yeah of course I can do that” You said standing up taking the paperwork in your black gloved hands “Consider it done Charlie!” You said walking out of her office as she screamed a thank you from behind a closed office door

You hummed quietly to yourself as you walked up the flights of stairs to get to Alastor’s door

Minutes passed before you got to the door that read in bold letter

“Alastor, Radio Demon”

Knocking lightly on the door, ‘he should be in there?’

“…”

‘No response..hm that weird’ You thought as you looked over both your shoulders before you placed a gloved hand on your door handle twisting the knob before it opened slowly

!!!CREAAAK!!!

Your body mentally cringed at the noise as you pushed the door more open glancing around one more time you slipped in the crack of his door, gently shutting it closed once you entered

‘Wow’ Was the first word that escaped your mouth looking into his room now, it's his office yes, but what was beyond it that made it almost feel like you were..alive it was the bayou swamp/forest it was just how you remembered before you died all those years ago..breathtaking

Scanning the dimly lit area with the only light being a moonless night and the few fireflies that infested the air, you didn’t see Alastor anywhere in sight, just a table with a chair on it in the middle of the grassy forest.

You bite your lip gently as you looked between the paper work and the forest before groaning knowing your mind was made up, as soon as you laid your eyes on the bayou. Leaving the paperwork for Alastor sitting on his wooden desk before you walked passed it and too the bayou landscape filling as it was almost a dream

Walking slowly into the grassy area with a smile as you breathed in the smell of forest closing your eyes and taking in the sound

It was a wonderful moment of quiet before the light noise of static in the forest made you snap your eyes open,.. that’s Alastor getting closer into range of where you were standing.

Being lucky and hopeful you HOPE he didn’t see you in the clearing just standing their with your eyes closed

You ran and hide behind some bushes and trees that were away from the table and chair you were standing near–and just in the nick of time

You could hear and see him from where you were hiding the full static sound of a certain radio demon as he hummed a tune with a deer slumped dead over on his shoulder, carrying it with ease as he slammed it down on the table, you examined as he sat down making a fork appear out of thin air as he leaned his staff against his chair, before disappearing into air as he began to eat the deer raw pulling at its meat–made you want to gag in disgust

‘He could’ve cooked it’ you thought watching him munch down on his hunt you can assume. Licking his lips after a couple of bites he wiped his mouth with a napkin like a true unhinged gentleman

Before he cleared his throat his eyes shutting but his smile spreading wider, causing you to get goosebumps

“I know your there” He said making you do a double take ‘he knows i am here?’ you thought blinking as you didn’t buy his bluff

“I can sense your presence,” he drawled, his voice dripping with a sinister charm.

“You can’t hide from me.” He opened his crimson eyes as they began scanning the area. You kept your movement still as he scanned over the area you were hiding. You saw how he squinted his eyes almost immediately at the bush you were in

“Come out, come out wherever you are” He sang out in a haunting tone

“You do know as a predator.”He started in a cheery tone before his voice dropped to a dual and deep one “ I can smell you out.” His voice ringing of no radio filter

Your heart began to sped up

‘fffuck’ Is what you thought before you seen Alastor disappear into thin air—it wasn’t a surprise you were accustomed to that but you couldn’t help your heart starting to speed up as he vanished into the air

“Run,” a disembodied whisper breathed against your nape

Took you no time of convincing as you ran not looking behind you as you kept your eyes forward only hearing the sound of something chasing behind,

You hit left and right, hoping to get Alastor off of you

As you take another right you ran behind a tree, hiding behind its figure as you heard and felt Alastor run pass you

You have never done something like this, it was rather fun but dangering

Peaking your head from behind the tree after what felt like entirety you didn’t see Alastor for safe measures you transformed yourself to a small forest animal, just in case Alastor wants to sneak behind you..again

Following near your foot trail from the tree branches, you jumped from branch to branch with ease as you stopped once more hearing static noise come from nowhere, you smirked in your creature form as Alastor wouldn’t suspect a thing

Watching from above, his form essentially appeared from thin air as he had a wide smirk and a look of hunger in his eyes as he looked at the spot you were suppose to be standing

“Where are you~?” He said

“…”

After a moment of looking in all the places he would expect and assume for someone to hide, he stood in the middle of the forest arms crossed as his ears flickered now and then

“Now where did they go? I was rather hungrier for something other than deer” He said you can tell by his voice he was almost dumb struck how could he still be able to smell you but your nowhere near..weird?

You slowly shifted yourself backwards away from Alastor as you didn’t want to alarm him nor give away your hiding, you were almost clear before a vibration was felt throughout the branch and in one second the branch snapped as you land ontop of Alastor head

“...”

It was quiet not either one of you dared to move before you felt your body being picked up fully by his hand and now..the jig was up

“What do we have here..” He said looking at you “A small diversion from the person thats in here?”Alastor’s gaze bore into you, dissecting your very essence.

A wicked glint in his eyes began to take place, “Well I guess since I couldn't catch my actual food, I shall eat you little one” Pausing to smug smile before continuing “Bad luck for you?~” He said as he lifted you above his mouth

You squirmed in his hands, heart racing.

‘This can’t be how (y/n)'s story ends’, you thought desperately.

Just as he was about to drop you into his abyssal maw, you shifted—your disguise falling away

You landed on top of Alastor, who staggered back, utterly unprepared.

“Don’t eat me,” you blurted out, adrenaline surging. Alastor stood, bemusement etching his features.

“Lucy?!” Alastor’s voice crackled through the air, a radio filter distorting his words. The static hummed, raising the hairs on your arms.

“Why are you in here?” His step was deliberate, menacing. You retreated, heart pounding.

“How did you make yourself appear small? Then big?” His eyes narrowed, dissecting you. Each step he took, you mirrored, until your back pressed against a tree—literally.

Your mind raced for a lie, an escape. But then it happened—the slip up, the unraveling.

You shifted into your true form, the one Alastor would recognized.

“(Y/N)?!” His voice lost the radio filter, and you met his gaze. Confusion etched his features. You bit your bottom lip, a awkward laugh escaping.

“Erm, surprise…?” You said as you watched him back up a little from you a smile now spreading wider by the minute as the static was the buzz in the air

As it was overtook by the applause he started to emitted as he turned the other way starting to laugh

“A surprise indeed dearie who would’ve know my wife could pull such a thing off” He started.. you didn’t like how this was sounding as you moved away from the tree watching him as he created slight distances between him and yourself

You watched as a nagging feeling was telling you to start running but ignoring that you spoke up “Alastor I-” He cut you off with his words

As he appeared behind you—the Radio Demon, with crimson eyes and a dangerous smile. His arm encircled your waist, pulling you closer. “You had the entire hotel convinced of this Lucy woman,” he murmured, his voice devoid of filters. “Bravo, dearie. Truly bravo.”

You didn’t like how he was taking the situation as what he said to you in a flare voice on confirmed how much you actually DID piss off Alastor with this little disguise

“You should run now.”

Those four words holding a threat of the unknown and you wanting to at least talk for yourself turned to face Alastor his crimson eyes only reflecting the pure chaos he was about to inflict on this game of catch with you, as you shook your head

“Please let me explain” You urged, desperation coloring your voice.

“5” Alastor your dear husband replied, holding out his hand. The air crackled with tension

“Al please—…”

“4..” He sung out as he closed his eyes, standing tall. One hand rested behind his back, the other poised like a pendulum. The smile of him showing his sharp teeth made you swallow harshly

“3” He warned out to you knowing your still there as he opened one eye to look at you breathing out short “Hmm..a shame your going to let me catch you so easy” He said shutting his open eye closed

“2 dearie” He warned out now holding two fingers as he began to shift in his stances his neck elongated he was slowly shifting into his demon form, and that’s when you finally decide to run

You huffed and panted as you switched your form a couple of times to give you longer distances away from Alastor as you made it deeper into the Bayou the ground under you turning slightly squishy as you kept running not interested to turn around

You ran for what felt like hours before you stopped down near a swamp bank hunched on you knees as you gain your second wind, taking a few more breathes you stood up, the air was quiet you couldn’t hear the static of Al, so you have to be far from him? or he just turned off that noise so he could stalk and pounce on you

Whatever the case maybe you took a breathe in and out as you looked ahead of the lake, nothing but more forest—

You thought different ideas like turning into a winged creature and flying back towards the rooms door to get out of here, but you didn’t know how high you could fly and since Alastor can’t fly nor has wings, you doubt that celling is high enough to get high enough where he couldn’t hit you out of air

Best option was to keep running or go into the swamp water, it would give you better opportunity, reflecting your options about it you heard the ground beneath you move with vibrations ‘fuck he already found me’ you thought coming to the defeat you were going to let yourself be caught but that was until you seen that fucken demon form mere seconds before he seen you, you bailed out dipping yourself slowly in the cold water taking a big breathe before dunking yourself under

Seconds stretched into eternity as you held your breath, your lungs screaming for release. The vibrations in the ground intensified, and you knew he was near. What was Alastor going to do when he catched you? He wouldn’t actually hurt his wife? You thought of as your heart hammered against your ribs, and you wondered if you should be actually concerned

Alastor scanned the area, seeking his dear wife. You pressed deeper into the water, your head submerged further, only the top part of your head concealed by a stray lilypad.

Minutes passed—or perhaps it was mere seconds—before you surfaced. Gasping for air, you wiped water from your eyes. Alastor wasn’t in sight.

You continued walk towards the edge of the pond before crawling out of the pond, lying down on the edge of it your knees still submerged as you sighed out in relief, shutting your eyes for what felt like a second

Before you heard, the clearing of a throat—a sound that sent shivers down your spine. Opening your eyes standing above you was the oh-so-familiar radio demon. You smiled, but before you could vanish into the water, Alastor’s grip closed around your arms. His purr was a velvet blade against your skin.

“Come now, darling,” he drawled, his tone deceiving. “We don’t want you to get wet. Let me assist you in this rather…exchange.” His strength pulled you back, and you squirmed, defiance flaring. But Alastor was stronger, and you found yourself pressed against his chest, dripping and caught.

“Let go,” you demanded, but he only laughed—a predator savoring its prey

“Now, dear, this is part of the game.” His eyes bore into yours, crimson flames dancing. “I’ve caught you, and now you’ll be the prize I win.” His tongue flicked across his lips

As Alastor carried you through the forest he hummed a simple tone, making you more on edge

You both arrived at another clearing?

“This isn’t where we started Al” You said as he set you down, gently helping you get up, as your eyes shifted from the scenery to him

Alastor’s gaze was going up and down on you, as you caught little symbols manifesting themselves around him as he was now a step or two away from you

“Come here” He said in a commanding tone, a chain manifesting around your neck as your eyes widen to metal chain outline with the color of green. Your hands immediately shot to your neck trying to grip and claw at it. You felt a tug come towards Al before you leaned your body away from it trying to keep space, digging your feet lightly in the ground

One real yank got you to move forward unprepared, the earth meant your face very quick and you instantly felt blood in your mouth

“Ah, be good for me, Y/N, and just obey,” he murmured, his grip unyielding. You crawled on your knees and hands, inching closer to him. The chain around your neck tightened, lifting you off the ground. Alastor’s crimson eyes bore into yours.

“My dear sweet little wife, Y/N,” he drawled, his voice devoid of filters. Each word carried weight, punctuated by his southern accent. “You, dearie, violated our little agreement.” His fingers traced the chain. “We had an understanding, did we not?”

Your breaths came in ragged gasps. “I didn’t mean to Al” you whispered

His chuckle echoed through the clearing as he lowered you gently to the ground, ensuring the fall didn’t harm you.

“So, my doe,” he began, his voice a velvet blade, “please give me an explanation. Why has my wife been running around disguised as a Lucy person, working—” His fingers closed around your hands, the chain that had bound you vanishing into thin air. “Her dear, softly delicate hands at a hotel that deserves none of her attention?” His words hung in the air, a question wrapped in menace. “Rather than be in a manor that belongs to her and her husband? Have I done something wrong?”

You sighed out as you nodded taking your hands out of his, to his displeasure “All this started because i heard you mumble in your sleep rather a month or so ago..princess name Charlie” You said with embarrassment flaming your checks as you looked away from Alastor not wanting to know what expression he held

The air was quiet between the both of you, not a word was spoken—You felt like you were holding your breathe with the tension in the air before you felt the touch of your husband on your hands again

“Mon cher~” He purred out making you look at him, his face of course held a wide smile but the look in his eyes held anger with something else glimmering around it “Nothing could replace you”

“No hotel” He said his hand holding out your arm as he kissed at the palm before saying, “No demon” Alastor continued raising his head kissing you at the center of your arm, looking at you in the eyes before kissing more up your arm while saying “And certainly no Lucifer daughter could take my eye off of something as ravishing as you my doe~” Al kissing up you between each pause as he at your neck slowly peaking at it having you basically in his lap with your back towards him, as you moved your head to side to let him continue as he only chuckle at the gesture

Al with his free hand grabbing at your chin to make you look at him as he stared into your (e/c) “But my dear mon cher, you agree at my words as if you understand, but it seems as though you forgotten who I belong too” He said letting go of your chin as both of his hands traveled down to your hips resting there “You forget who's name causes thrill of different emotions within me, so let me remind you~”

Alastor leaned into you, as you meant him half way kissing him

A passionate kiss with some underline aggression made the kiss much more thrilling as Alastor fought for dominance with you trying to dominate over him

With a deep chuckle he pulled away from the kiss, “You being defiant won’t end well for you dear” You looked up too him as you bite your lower lip holding on too his bow tie slowly undoing it as his hands trailed up and down your legs

“No words so be it” He shrugged before pushing you down to the ground, your back laying on the grass as he spread your legs open wide, everything on full display for him to see

He leaned his head down as his ears pushed back towards his head as his eyes half lidded looking up to a red face you “Mm~Darling your so intoxicating with that look on your face” He said before plunging his head down open his mouth before eating your pussy

Your eyes shut closed as your hands went immediately to his hair gripping and pulling at it, as you mumbled out moans holding onto Alastor head down as he kept eating you out

“Al~!” You said in low moan as you felt yourself starting to come undone down there “Alastor..I..I am going to—”

Before you could muster and get out the words to warn your husband, the sensation of Alastor mouth moved away from you leaving you in almost blank state, so close to clarity but yet so far …

You whimpered as you looked down to Alastor who’s face was smirking as he shook his head licking his lips slightly “You think after the charade you pulled your going to get to cum that quick and easily?” He said and laughed “Dearie we are just starting.”

Alastor in a instances flipped you over making you rise to all fours with help of his shadows tendrils you were now ass up face down, with your arms being held down by the shadows tendrils, you whimpered trying to move against them as you felt a burning sensation on your bottom causing you to move it from side to side

Alastor watched in trans like state as you moved your ass after he smacked it only making his boner go harder, as he rub on it through his pants

“Al, let me out of this! I don’t want to be—Ahh~!”You said feeling a familiar feeling slide in you as your eyes rolled behind you, you clawed at the grass alastor pushed all himself in you

“Mmm~There you go Mon Cher~” Alastor said rolling his hips as his head tilted backwards, both of his hands gripping on your hips keeping them in place as he began slowly pumping in and out of you

You moaned as you moved with his thrusts, arching your back as Al grunts and low moans could be heard

Alastor started to pick up in speed as you could only speak out the simple word “Al~” Which was music to the radio demons ears

“Oh (Y/n)~” He said as he kept up fast with his thrusts moving one his hand to your hair, gripping at it pulling you backwards as your head flung back

“Open your eyes.” He said making you slowly open your eyes as meant with the eyes of crimson red ones as his smile was deceiving as his eyes showed pure lust that was feeling “Fuck.” He said as gripped tighter on your hair yanking almost at the root as you moaned with each thrust

“I am going to finish in you.” He said in not a question but as a command as you tighten around him bring him closer as he shut his eyes letting go of your hair before opening his mouth and bitting at the back of your neck as you moaned closing your eyes feeling yourself reaching edge as you reached climax sametime as Alastor

Couple months later drawed by quick before you knew it you were back at the manor, watching over Al’s territory sipping tea as you smiled mindlessly, yeah there was really nothing to worry about.

FIN!!!

Extra! Extra!

(Y/n) and Al strolling through the park. hand in hand as Al hums a tune

Al: “I do say mon cher, I think I never told you why I was saying Charlie's name”

Y/n: “Yeah you haven’t, do share”

Al: “You wouldn’t believe it! Charlie in my dream was trying to paint my Radio Studio, it was all going to be rainbows with fluffy pink unicorns if I didn’t say her name”

Y/n: deadpans

Al: Only telling you the truth dearie~!sings out

Y/n: Your truth is utter dogshit sometimes

Al: gasp Darling!

527 notes · View notes

cheolhub · 1 year

Text

YOU GET ME SO HIGH — VERNON CHWE ࿐

summary. smoking with your best friend (who you totally don’t have a crush on) is super fun till all you can think about is him… well, doing him, to be more specific.

wc. 6.2k

warnings. recreational marijuana use!!, dubcon (kinda? sex while high), bf2l + idiots to lovers, kinda fluffy!! weed is referred to as ‘green crack’ several times lol, fingering, hehe big d!ck!vernon, mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex, pet names (baby), brief tit worship, naked confessions, vernon is kinda shy, jealous, nervous & rlly likes boobs and reader is v needy lol <3— MINORS DNI 18+

note. havent seen anyone write for vernon in like 3 years so here’s my lowkey cringey, poorly-written, self-indulgent fic that i was supposed to post for his birthday 2 months ago ++ guest appearance from weed dealer!cheol bc yeah :3

if you had told vernon that his best friend was someone he’d met in a biology lab–one that he was accidentally put into his freshmen year– he’d say you were a liar. nonetheless, it’s true– you’re his best friend and you have been for years now. in your fourth and final year of university, you still sit on the balcony of your apartment with him like you have every other day for the past three.

“happy birthday, vernon,” you smile cheekily, passing him a snack-size ziplock baggie. “i got you an eighth since you’re always begging to smoke my shit.”

he laughs and gives you a lazy smile, “Y/N, my birthday was over two months ago… plus, you know you didn’t have to get me anything.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes, “hansol vernon chwe, you are my best friend, of course i had to. and… i was waiting for a few of my checks to hit, that's why it’s a belated birthday gift.” you take his hand, placing the bag into it. “now take it and don’t smoke it all in a day, got it?”

he nods, eyes softening, “thank you,” he says. “must’ve cost your broke ass a fortune, though, so next time– don’t get me anything.”

you giggle at the joke that’s actually, not really a joke. “i really don’t think you have any room to speak– who here has a real job?”

he rolls his eyes, “my job is real, thank you very much.”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “reselling limited edition vinyls for seven times what you bought them for isn’t a job, vernon, that’s called being a dick.” you tell him. “and actually, the prices weren’t too bad. cheol gave me a discount.”

vernon almost visibly clenches at the name of your awfully-sweet dealer. though he can attest, cheol is only ever sweet to you. every time he’s bought from your favorite supplier, he’s been a total asshole and upcharges him for no reason which is one of the basis’ why he’s always smoking your stuff. you always tell him it’s karma for selling records at such a high price, but vernon begs to differ. he knows that cheol just doesn’t like him and he has a gut feeling that it’s because of you.

“oh yeah? how’d you get him to do that?” he asks, but he’s pretty sure he knows the answer. the answer being cheol has a thing for you.

you bite your lip, looking over your apartment balcony. “mmm, he showed up here while i was… you know…playing around…and…”

vernon knows you well enough to finish your sentence for you. “masturbating?”

“vernon, be modest!” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. “you knew, you didn’t have to say it!”

he chuckles, “it’s normal, Y/N, we all do it. no need to be embarrassed over it.”

it’s true. everyone does it. but not everyone masturbates thinking about their best friend. he thinks that might just be him.

“yeah, but you’ve probably never done it thinking you’d be finished before your hot drug dealer shows up at your apartment.” you blush. vernon doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re afraid you’ve made him feel uncomfortable (even though he claims you never have). you bite the insides of your cheeks before uttering, “can you pack a joint or something?”

truthfully, vernon doesn’t mean to be so quiet. he’s just trying to imagine you in that state without letting his dick get hard, though it’s proving to be extremely difficult. you probably looked so pretty in cute short shorts and a shirt that you could see your nipples through. or worse, you were wearing a tank top that was snuggly wrapped around your torso where you could see everything. he wants to be a gentleman, wants to be respectful… but, god, your tits are out of this world.

he hums trying to rid the dirty images in his head, taking your box of goods to grab the grinder and paper cones. “finish your story.” he urges.

you look at him, searching for signs of discomfort, but there is only that stoic look he always wore. with a sigh, you continue, “anyway, i was… you know… and he texted me and said he was here– i was a mess–”

he can imagine.

“–and i think he could tell ‘cuz when i got down to his car i was so disheveled and was about to start crying. i literally looked like i got edged or something,” you mumble, twiddling your thumbs out of embarrassment.

you’re painting a picture for vernon and he has to bite back a groan.

it’s not the first time you and vernon had talked about sexual things. there had been several conversations on the topic. he knew almost everything about you except for… you know… what you tasted like and how tight you are– his vivid imagination couldn’t give him all of those pleasures.

“and, vernon, i kid you not, he literally knew. he was all smug and shit,” you groan. “it was kinda humiliating.”

you remember how much wetter you’d gotten the moment you slipped into his car. he was calling you all types of things– all types of pretty pet names–and you’re genuinely surprised it didn’t escalate further because the sexual tension was heavy.

“and then i told him i wanted a quarter– an eighth for me and an eighth for you– and he told me he’d give me a special strain of sativa for half the normal price.”

vernon’s eyes widened, “half the price?”

“that’s what i said!” you exclaim. “pretty sure it’s because he could see my tits… i wasn’t wearing the best outfit …”

of-fucking-course he could see your tits. vernon holds back a groan, seeing as his suspicions about you in a tank top that night was right. instead, he chuckles airly. “now who needs to be modest.”

“stooop, just grind the weed.” you cry.

vernon does as you ask, muttering, “maybe he laced it.”

“cheol wouldn’t, i’m pretty sure he just likes me.” you humbly reply, shooting daggers at your best friend for even suggesting that. “plus the strain was called ‘green crack’ or something like that… it was from the ‘st. patty’s day special.’”

“saint patrick’s day was like 4 weeks ago.”

“well then he was either trying to get rid of it or my tits must’ve made him feel generous.” you joke, giggling a bit at vernon’s poker face.

vernon is hiding it really well, but he’s filled with so much annoyance. your stupid dealer doesn’t deserve to see you like that. hell, vernon doesn’t even think he deserves to see you like that, but, fuck, he wants to. so badly. seeing you all hot and bothered with your tits on full display would be a dream come true.

“would you fuck him for free weed?” he asks all of a sudden, making you blush furiously. he knows now that he doesn’t want to hear your answer when your mouth parts in shock.

“vernon! what kinda girl do you take me for?” you put your hand over your chest as if it’s something you wouldn’t do. you break your facade when he gives you a knowing look, mouth cracking into a grin. “probably, i dunno. he’s kinda scary but i feel like he knows how to please a woman– i can’t say the same about a lot of other men.”

he internally rolls his eyes. cheol doesn’t know you the way he does. vernon could please you, he knows he can.

he switches the subject back to the packed joint in his hands to keep from spiraling. “wanna spark it?”

you shake your head with a hum, “mmh-mmh, belated birthday boy gets the first few hits.”

he smiles, pulling the joint to his lips taking the lighter, igniting it with the pressure of his thumb. he lets the flame burn carefully through the paper, inhaling a large rush of smoke. he holds it in for a bit before he blows it out– away from your face– creating a white, potent-smelling cloud.

you reminisce while watching him. your balcony is like home to you and vernon. contrary to your neighbor's beliefs, smoking isn’t the only thing you do. you laugh and cry and talk for hours about people you hate and people you love. sometimes, you’ll do homework out here and when vernon is bored at his own place, he’ll come over to yours to keep you company. he provides a comforting presence and never-ending encouragement while reminding you to take breaks.

it’s where you told him about your puppy crush on soonyoung from your statistics class and it’s where he told you about how he awkwardly lost his virginity to a girl during orientation week. it’s where the two of you are always together– it’s kinda like your place.

and watching him after all these years, you’ve never really realized how attractive your best friend was. well, that’s a lie. you’ve always thought vernon was likely one of the prettiest men to ever walk the earth, but if you truly admitted that, then you’d have to admit to the other things. things like how kind and considerate he is and how he’s boyfriend potential and how you totally don’t have any type of feelings for him whatsoever. it’s not a crush, you constantly have to remind yourself, it’s admiration for your best friend. there’s a difference.

but those admirable traits are things you can’t think about because he doesn’t see you that way. there’s no reason why you should see him that way if it’s not reciprocated. it only makes sense and prevents brutal rejection from the most perfect man on earth, aka your best friend.

but your not-crush manifests itself sometimes. like when he smiles at you or when he randomly places his headphones over your head and tells you to “listen to this song” or when he spends the night in your bed because he’s too lazy to drive home. it gets harder and harder to hide every day.

he passes the joint to you with an even lazier grin and you take it, parroting his actions. you let the smoke fill your lungs, hold it there, and exhale, shutting your eyes just as he did.

and vernon thinks you look like a goddess. how could you make a simple action seem so attractive?

you take your hits, passing the joint back and forth till it suddenly hits you. all at once, you feel your body start to ache, your tummy flipping in anticipation, your mind fogging over leaving your entirety to buzz. you shift a bit and you feel your cunt dampen causing you to let out a sharp exhale.

“you good?” vernon asks, his deep voice filling your ears.

then you look at him. like… actually look at him. his face is a bit tired, his eyes red from the weed coursing his system, and his hair a bit disheveled from running his hand through it too much (this is why he wears the beanies)-- nevertheless, he looks fucking fantastic.

your usual munchies are replaced with strong, burning sexual desire. just at the sight of your best friend, your pussy is soaking through your panties and your shorts.

“‘sol,” you murmur out the nickname. “do you feel… different?” you ask, eyes fluttering and lips parting.

you’re truly unaware of how seductive you look and how it’s slowly taking years off his life. vernon has been rock hard in his sweats for a solid 15 minutes now. and, yes, he feels extremely different. turned on to say the very least.

“mmm, a little,” more like a lot. “maybe it’s the strain you got,” he mumbles, implying what he had said earlier was true.

it makes sense that cheol provided you with a strain that feels like you’re smoking a fucking aphrodisiac, but you’re starting to wish you were alone so you could at least do something about it.

for a split second, you think you might be fine, then you’re hit with yet another wave of arousal, your core pulsing at the ideas that are incessantly popping into your head. ideas of him taking you right now, sitting on his face, sinking onto his cock– it’s too much.

“vernon,” you say breathily and he freezes, pulling the joint away from his lips. “i… i think…”

you try to think about how to kick him out kindly so you can have some much-needed alone time, but you can’t– you can only think about having alone time with him. alone time that leads to shoving his hand down your pants.

stop, you tell your hazy brain.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks, scooting closer to you.

his scent floods your senses– a mix of weed and his cologne causing sensory overload in your poor brain and aching core.

he’s internally worried that you’re greening out. though it doesn’t happen as much as it did when you first started smoking, there are rare occasions when you take more than you can handle.

“c-can… you do me a favor?”

“‘course, anything.”

“vernon… it… i…need your help.” you whimper, leaning into him. “please…feels like ‘m gonna die.”

you’re being dramatic.

he furrows his brows in confusion, panic becoming apparent on his features. “what hurts, Y/N? how can i help you?”

you take his hand in yours, slowly guiding him to the ache in your body. you gasp when his warm fingers come in contact with your clothed cunt. “here… it hurts here.” you exhale.

vernon has definitely lost it. his hand is between your thighs and your smaller one has moved to tightly wrap around his wrist. you’re a mess– he can feel it. he can feel the warmth radiating from your core, he can feel how you’ve soaked through your panties and how it’s seeped through the thin pair of shorts. he’s holding his breath and he fears he may pass out before getting a chance to touch you like you deserve.

“y-you’re not in your right mind, Y/N,” he whispers, afraid his voice may betray him. “you smoked too–”

“uh-uh, it’s okay– vernon, it’s okay, i want you… please,” you whimper, grip around his wrist tightening as you buck your hips slightly for more friction.

you want him. you… want him.

“but–”

you’re growing frustrated, “if you won’t… then i-i think you should go ‘cuz i need… i need to be alone.”

vernon takes this as an implication that you need to fuck yourself if he won’t fuck you and he’ll be damned if he’s not the one making you see stars.

so, he asks one more time, “Y/N… are you sure?”

“yes… yes, ‘m sure. ‘m so sure, please, ‘sol,” you beg, using the nickname that makes him fold every time.

he doesn’t hold back, putting out the joint in his hand and leaving it in the ashtray. his now-free hand cups your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. you moan, eagerly allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth as your hands needily fist at his shirt.

despite having smoked, vernon’s lips are soft. softer than the lips of men you’ve kissed before. and he still tastes good even with the pungent lemony flavor lingering on his tongue– overwhelmingly good. it seems that he’s just as eager and turned on as you are, too, nearly devouring you whole. you can’t help but fall in love with the heated, now-sloppy kiss.

and vernon truly feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. he’s not sure if this is even real or if the weed has him hallucinating… it wouldn’t be the first time, but you biting down on his bottom lip has him coming back to earth and lets him know that you’re real. that you are very much real and very much grinding on his fingers desperately.

“vernon,” you pant, pulling him closer by the shirt in your grip. “please, more— feels good, but i need more.” your hazy eyes look into his and you see how they’ve darkened.

“fuck, Y/N,” he groans and his voice has you clenching around nothing. “we need to go inside…”

you’re both sure that this might ruin your relationship, but you decide it’ll be a problem for tomorrow. right now, all either of you can think about is getting off on each other.

that’s why you’re quick to stand on your feet, holding out your hand for him to take. when he stands, grunting, you pull him into your apartment and leave all of your goods on the balcony without a second thought.

you drag him to your room before attacking him with another kiss and pulling at the ends of his shirt. you’re a bit disoriented, swaying and stumbling over your steps, but when your legs hit the bed and you nearly fall, vernon’s quick to catch you by the waist.

“careful,” he murmurs, gently laying you on the plush mattress. you scoot to the head of the bed, laying on your back as you wait for him.

he takes your expectant face as a sign to remove his clothing and he does so quickly, knowing how impatient you are at this very moment. his shirt comes off and then his sweats, leaving him in boxers where his bulge becomes… apparent.

you have to hold your breath at the dizzying sight of his naked torso and the massive tent in his underwear.

you make grabby hands at him, urging him to come take care of you on the bed. he obliges, getting on your bed, hovering over you while his own head spins. he’s truly unsure if this is actually his real life or if he’s having a dream sent from the gods above.

he decides not to wait any longer, taking control of the situation by placing his lips on your heated neck. his lips trail down, leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your skin, reveling in how you desperately whimper for him though he’s barely doing anything.

his hands reach for the hem of your loose top– one that might actually be his– pushing it up and tugging it over your head and arms, leaving your chest bare before him. he groans before diving to your tits, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and tugging at the bud hungrily.

you gasp at the sight. you’ve never seen vernon so eager to do anything in the time you’ve known him and now he’s making out with your tits as if it were his last day on earth.

that’s hot, you think to yourself. so hot– you’re so fucking hot right now.

you can’t see it, but you feel his hand come down to your sleep shorts, digging in past the elastic band of both the satin fabric and your cotton undies. his fingers dip into your lips, running them through your soaked folds.

“you’re so wet.” he hisses.

you whine at the contact, apologizing softly, “‘m sorry– can’t help it.”

his fingers find your hole, circling it before easing two of them inside. “don’t apologize, baby. it’s really hot.” he whispers, the pet name slipping past his lips without completely registering.

you clench and moan at the domestic name. “fuck, ‘sol,” you whimper. “a-again… call me that again…”

his face burns, whispering out, “you like when i call you ‘baby?’”

knowing vernon, it was meant to sound like a genuine question, but being in the state you’re in, it sounds so seductive… so enticing that it has your back arching. you nod your head, an even darker blush falling over your already-red cheeks.

you let out a clipped, “yes.” and he just moans, thrusting his fingers in and out faster, digits stretching your tight, gummy walls out to prepare you for his cock.

he wonders how you could be so tight because, holy fuck, you’re squeezing around his fingers like you’re trying to trap them in there.

you whine softly, “vernon, please give me more…”

he definitely just fucking died.

his cock twitches uncontrollably in his boxers, begging to be set free, but he decides to give you another finger instead. vernon knows he’s… a bit on the bigger side, and judging by how you feel right now, there’s absolutely no way he’ll easily fit inside of you. the last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

so he slowly pulls his hand out of your shorts and helps you out of them. he throws them to the side and has you spread open. he huffs at the sight before taking three of his fingers back to your hole. he pushes them in gently, groaning at the tighter fit. your moans are bouncing off the walls and vernon looks up to see your mouth hung open with your head thrown back against your pillow.

he checks on you, throat dry at the sound, sight, and feeling of you. “i-is… are you doing okay?” and when you just whine, he bites the inside of his cheek anxiously. he remembers your fondness for the pet names from a few minutes prior, so he tries again. “baby… does it feel good?”

and he’s not sure what to expect, but when your body jolts and your hand's fist at the sheets, you get even tighter, clenching around his fingers desperately. you really do have an affinity for being called ‘baby.’

your brain is jumbled, intoxicated from the weed and his fat fingers stretching your cunt open. “‘m okay… f-feels so good.” you tell him breathily with a whine bubbling in the back of your throat at the feeling of his fingers pushing further into you. “fuck, vernon– it’s so good.”

and it’s true, you don’t think you’ve ever experienced pleasure this intense before, but you remember your senses are heightened by 10 because of the drug. that ‘green crack’ is insane.

he moans at the confirmation, curling his fingers up and fucking your messy cunt, the palm of his hand bumping against your clit with every thrust. he feels a rush of your honeyed arousal soaking his fingers and he swears he might cum before he can even get his cock in you.

you gasp loudly when you feel his pace quicken, eyes squeezing shut. an array of mewls and high-pitched whines shamelessly slip past your lips. “oh! fuck, i’m close, i’m so close, vernon.” you warn, wet walls clamping around his curled fingers.

he exhales sharply, voice low when he urges you, “cum for me, baby.”

his voice and harsh thrusts are more than enough to throw you over the edge, stomach knots unraveling. you gush all over his big fingers, pussy pulsing as it’s doing its best to push his digits out, but he continues his ministrations to work you through your blinding orgasm.

feeling you cum may have been the best thing life has offered him.

“fuck, that’s it– are you okay? did that feel good?” he asks breathily, pulling out his fingers, a string of arousal connected to your hole following them out. he bites his lip at the sight, keeping a moan bottled up. he wants to taste you so bad… and the cum on his fingers taunt him.

you nod your head, still panting, “w-was so good, y-you’re really good… don’t usually cum that fast…”

“really?”

you shake your head, “t-told you that guys don’t really know what they’re doing most of the time.”

he shakes his head in disapproval, “well… you deserve the best.”

“... like you?” your heart races and the weed from earlier still lingers like a cloud over your brain. you look at him, the soft light from the moon illuminating his flawless skin. your eyes trail down his torso, eyes landing on the big bulge in his boxers again.

he chokes, masking the sound with a nervous chuckle, “me? i-i’m not…no.” your eyes widen, realizing you’ve completely misread him, feeling panic flood your body. you quickly shut your legs, arms coming to cover your bare chest.

he’s quick to notice that you’re starting to spiral, though, so he re-registers what you said and then what he said and his eyes widen, too. his words come out rushed as he attempts to do damage control. “no! not no, as in i don’t see you in that way, but no because you deserve the best and…”

“but… you are the best, ‘sol…” you tell him softly, hugging yourself tighter. “and before you say anything, the weed is wearing off– think you finger-fucked it out of me,” you joke to lighten the mood, but when you see he’s still frozen, you internally cringe at yourself, continuing. “i’m being serious. i’m in my right mind and i’m telling you that you’re the best because you are. you always have been.”

he shudders nervously, “Y/N… don’t.”

you frown at him, turning your head away to look at your window instead, mentally face-palming yourself. “did i make it awkward again?” you ask nervously. you don’t even wait for his response, continuing your anxious ramble. “can you just forget i said anything? and that i made you do this? i…i don’t wanna lose you– i never want to lose you.” you whisper. “you’re my best friend.”

he shakes his head incessantly as if he’s trying to tell you something with the simple action, but you aren’t even looking at him, so he takes a deep, shaky breath. “no, you didn’t make me do anything. i just mean don’t say things like that if you don’t really like me because i…” he trails off and you turn back to look at him, concerned by his sudden halt. “Y/N, i… like you. so much. i have for forever now, but you were always talking about soonyoung or cheol and then there was that whole thing with that pretentious art kid– minghao, i think– i dunno.”

what!?

you look at him incredulously, eyes wide and lips parted in genuine shock, “why didn’t you tell me…?”

he sighed, hands coming to rest on your thighs. “it seemed like i never really had a chance… you’re my best friend, too… and i didn’t want to lose you either.”

you sit up, exclaiming, “but you’ve liked me this entire time and i didn’t even know?!”

he gives you a small grin and a shrug, “what can i say? i’m discreet.”

you scoff, sitting in silence for a few seconds before opening your mouth again. with your voice meek, you say.“i wish you would’ve told me.” you inhale sharply, continuing to hug yourself tightly. “i like you, too, you know… i just didn’t think you liked me back so i tried to not like you– which is really hard, by the way, because you’re annoyingly pretty.”

“sorry, i’ll try to stop being so pretty.”

you playfully slap his bare chest, “i actually hate you so much.”

he jokingly sulks, placing a hand over where you hit him. “aw, baby, you just said you liked me.”

you shudder, body naturally leaning into him as your mind gravitates back to your not-so-innocent thoughts. “i do… and i’d like you a little more if you kept calling me that.”

his breath hitches as you get closer and closer, “yeah?”

“mhm…”

he whispers against your lips, a cheeky smile on his, “you’re such a baby.”

“you’re so mean,” you hum, letting your lips graze his. “am i not your baby?”

he rests his forehead against yours and looks into your eyes for any sign of playfulness. you seem to be serious so he asks, “is that what you want?” he’s nervous you can hear the way his heart is about to pound out of his chest.

“duh… idiot.”

“okay, cool.” he says nonchalantly even though he’s internally freaking out. “you’re my baby.”

your heart skips a beat and your cunt dampens again at the title, “okay, cool.” you parrot casually as if your heart wasn’t about to lurch out of your chest. “you can… kiss me. if you want…”

vernon utters a soft ‘right’ before finally closing the gap between the two of you. his lips mold to yours and you know for a fact that there is no one else on earth you’d want to kiss. his big hand comes to cup your cheek and you melt under the touch, mouth opening for him to slip his tongue into.

naturally, the kiss heats up and before long, you’re whining into his mouth, hand blindly reaching for his clothed cock. he groans the second you find the aching hard-on, nimble hands stroking him through his boxers.

“Y/N,” he pants breathily in between kisses. “are you… sure you wanna… do this?”

you think it’s sweet that he keeps checking on you, and sure, you’re still a bit fuzzy from the after-effects of the ‘green crack’, but you need him to give you what you want. so you nod, breaking from the kiss to lay back in your original position under him.

“please fuck me, baby,” you beg in the most sultry voice you can conjure up. when he stays frozen, you pout. “hansol, please.”

he curses, quickly getting his boxers off and revealing the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. precum beads at the slit of his flushed tip and prominent veins run through the length. he’s so big, surely enough to have you see stars. you’re starting to feel grateful that he prepped you because his dick would have completely ruined you without it.

“‘s big.” you simply state, bottom lip finding sanctum in between your teeth as you gawk at it.

“you think so?” he gives you a wobbly smile, stomach-churning at the subtle praise. he moves in between your thighs and spreads you out for him. “is it okay?”

you blush, nodding your head, “mhm, don’t worry,” you tell him. “i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

he nods, huffing softly, “do you have any condoms?”

you chuckle breathily. “not for your size… but it’s okay, i’m clean and safe. you don’t need one. you can pull out if it makes you feel better.”

his throat runs dry– fuck, fuck, fuck. he’s fucking you raw?! how the hell is he supposed to last hitting it raw?! you were already tight around three of his fingers and he can’t even imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his cock.

he realizes he hasn’t replied in a few seconds when you say his name softly. he sees you growing restless under him and he apologizes and nods again dumbly.

he runs his tip through your folds, moaning when he finds you’re just as wet as you were earlier. he aligns himself with your leaky hole, slowly pushing himself inside of you with a groan to find that you’re still so fucking tight.

you’ve found that, despite vernon’s laid-back and chill personality, he’s quite loud in bed. he’s nothing like you expected and you’re pleasantly surprised.

when his cock slides in between your tight walls, the both of you are instantly a mess, panting and moaning in pleasure. your walls envelop him so snugly that you fear the thick veins that adorn his length will imprint into them.

“fuck, vernon.” you moan, praying the burn in your pussy melts to pleasure soon so he can fuck you the way you want it. the way you need it. . “your cock.”

he hisses, pushing in past the resistance. “you feel so good, baby, oh my god.” he grunts, head falling back at the way you hug him. “god, i’ve wanted this for so long– wanted you for so long.”

you cry, clenching around his girth because, god, you’ve wanted him, too.

when he finally bottoms out, you both pause to take erratic breaths, positively going feral over each other. he attempts to recollect himself and check up on you again. “are you–”

you don’t even let him finish, nodding your head vigorously. “yes, vernon, just need you to move, please.” you plead. “need you to fuck me– please, need it so fucking bad.”

you’re so needy for him and he knows it’s because of the last bit of weed that looms, but he can’t help but wonder if you’re like this on a normal day. if you’re always begging for a cock to fill you up. not that it would matter– he’d do anything you asked of him. you’re so fucking pretty to him and his brain is constantly yelling at him to cater to every single one of your wishes. the chokehold you have him in is so tight.

tight like your pretty cunt that’s now gracefully swallowing his cock with every thrust of his hips. your room is full of panting, moans, and the lewd squelch of your wet pussy taking him. it sounds better than any song he’s ever heard and, if he’s being completely transparent, he hopes to experience this for the rest of his life.

vernon unexpectedly comes down, craning his neck to latch his mouth around your nipples again, stimulating you there, too. you’re sure the position is a bit straining, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moans loudly into your chest. his hand plays with the other nipple, switching every minute to give both of them love and attention all while his cock steadily rams in and out of you.

your hands tangle in his hair, smothering his face into your tits while he moans and whines some more into them.

and when he adjusts slightly and his tip hits that spot, the one that makes you crumble in seconds, a sob wracks through your entire body.

“there! shit, baby, right there, please.” you gasp, back arching into him.

vernon asks breathily, removing his face from the comfortable spot on your chest, “there? that’s it?”

and you nod, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as you feel the pressure build-up at the bottom of your tummy. he continues to hit the spongy spot inside of you, bringing you closer and closer.

his own face is pinched and he can’t stop the soft whines that come out of his mouth. you just feel fucking amazing.

“a-are you close? i’m not gonna last long.” he pants out.

and you weakly sob out a reply of ‘yes,’ hand moving to toy with your swollen clit. the action immediately has the tightrope inside of you coming undone for the second time in the night. you mewl out his name, clamping around him tightly and coating his cock in slick cum.

it’s like a chain reaction that has vernon cursing and pulling his dick out of you. he eagerly fists at his cock, jerking himself off till he releases all over your puffy pussy. he’s moaning softly, prettily calling out your name. his heart pounds rapidly and his entire body twitches at the feeling of release.

his eyes finally open after a few seconds of trying to regulate his breathing. he sees the way your cunt is dressed in white and how you're slowly, but surely, coming down from both of your highs.

“hey,” he whispers.

“hi,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open. your hands reach for him and he can’t help but find you so cute. “c’mere.”

he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again. unlike your past few kisses, it’s soft and innocent. loving. he parts after a minute or so, hand moving to sweep the hair out of your face.

“are you sure you’re alright?” he whispers. “i feel kinda bad…”

“don’t, ‘sol, i wanted it. i’m really happy.” you tell him sincerely. “are you alright?”

he sighs, “i’m really happy, too… i just wish i would’ve taken you out on a date or something before… fucking you.”

you shake your head, “we did it kinda backwards, but, seriously, i’m just happy you’re here… happy that you’re mine.” he blushes, moving to hide his face in your neck while you giggle. “if you wanna, we can go on a date now?”

“where?” he mumbles into your neck.

“7/11– channie’s working so that means free big gulps and rollers… you know, since some of us can’t afford to eat real food because of their ‘job.’”

vernon scoffs, pulling his face out of your neck and giving you a stern look. “dude, it’s a real job–”

you laugh, effectively cutting him off. “okay, scammer– if it’s a real job, why are you always stealing my fucking weed instead of buying your own?”

“because weed is scarce these days and your bitch ass dealer hates me– why should i have to pay $20 for a gram when you only pay $5?” he nearly cries. “and, since we’re on the topic, i don’t like him. he’s too friendly with you.” that’s code for “he obviously wants to fuck you.”

“you’re jealous of cheol!”

he groans, rolling his eyes, a tiny pout appearing on his face, “so what if i am?”

you coo, “aw, baby,” hand coming to cup his blushy cheek. “you don’t have to worry about him,” you relay to him, voice laced with sincerity. “you’re the only one i want.”

he goes a little bug-eyed at your words before clearing his throat and nodding. “good. that’s good.”

you raise an eyebrow, “just good?”

“no… it’s great…” he mumbles cutely. “you’re also the only one i want.”

#vernon smut #hansol smut #vernon x reader #svt smut #seventeen smut

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kaiser-author-san-iii · 1 year

Text

Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem)Creator!Reader

A/N: holy Tsarista, I did not think that it would be this popular. Thank you so much!! It's been a couple months since I got into Genshin, but I'm glad that the Harbinger trailer dropped cause otherwise, this probably wouldn't have existed lol. I apologize for the late update. I have been quite stumped in the plot and just taking a moment to come up with one. If I didn't tag everyone, I'm sorry! DM or reply to be added to the taglist! :3

Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially hard when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only a Fatui Skirmisher but a Fatui Harbinger?

Tags/warnings: female reader, God!reader, Cult AU,

Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora.

First>> Next>>

Masterlist>>

Chapter 2: The Creator's Welcome

Silence.

What could be said while the entire palace and the surrounding area waited with bated breath for their Grace to awaken?

They were fervent - they waited to leave and search for the "meaner" that has done harm to their Beloved but that would leave their Previous Grace with only the Heir for company and guard.

The Precious Heir - they have heard of them only from what was written centuries ago. He was beautiful - he was innocent and was crying for their Grace to wake up all while the Harbingers stood by with the Tsarista finally making her appearance, rushing towards the bed that their Grace rested in, bending the knee and holding their hand.

"Your Grace. Your Excellency. Oh, my Beloved Creator. What has that Meaner done to you?"

Nugget never left your side as he clutched onto your waist, but being careful with your arms as he was told by the blue-haired man with the mask. He was a doctor and clearly knew what he was talking about so the little one made sure to listen well. The Doctor man and the others gave them a room which is what his Auntie expected and though he was focused more on taking care of you, it was nice to wander around the room all while the Harbin Gingers (It was some word that he had trouble saying) always came to check on him and his auntie and even gave him coloring books and sweets and fruits. It was all so good and he made sure to save you some whenever you were going to wake up.

But he especially loved the Tsarista and Columbia (Colombina)

They were very nice. They held him when you were still asleep and he couldn't be there for the operation.

For what seemed like forever, when it was only a matter of four days, the bed shifted as Nugget was reading the latest book that the guy with the funny hat gave him. He wanted to read it to you when you woke up and his wish was soon coming true as he felt movement and looked over to see your [E/c] eyes. He gasped and immediately snuggled into the sheets and wrapped his small arms around your waist.

"Auntie! You're awake! You're awake!"

Soft wet globs of tears started to stain your shirt as you looked down at the child who held you tightly and didn't want to let go. It would have been endearing if it wasn't for the fact that you had almost died from possible blood poisoning from ignoring your wounds. Your Nephew remembered seeing a lot of gold and despite still learning, he knew for a fact blood was red.

Carefully holding him up and ruffling his hair, you kissed his forehead and wiped his tears away.

"I'm sorry I made you worry, Nugget. I promise, I'll be sure to look after myself but my main concern was you."

That response earned a pout but your nephew thought it was good enough for now. If you weren't healthy and in one piece, how are you supposed to find a husband or a wife?!

"Just don't go to sleep anymore or at least for a long time. You made everyone worry!"

"Everyone?"

At the mention, your Nephew saw the clear confusion on your face and smiled brightly, but with a glint of mischievousness as he swiftly, with his small feet could go, hopped out of bed but careful to stay clear from your arms, rushed to the door and yelled out.

"Auntie [Y/n] is awake!" he said with a bright smile that was quite contagious, but it was last minute that you saw a figure by the door, or make it two figures. They had hoods over their head but it was the masks that covered their identities - the sheer happiness was clear from their body movements and one of them rushed out to who knows where while your nephew ran back to your side and started to share all the books he's read while you were recovering.

He's always had trouble reading so it was a feat itself to see him now reading at his supposed grade level. He still had trouble with certain words but nothing to worry about.

While trying to process all that was happening around you, you heard multiple footsteps before the door flew open, and in walked in about a dozen people.

Your face heated up at seeing all the gorgeous faces quickly surround you, pulling your nephew close to your side, weary of what else could happen. But you could have sworn that there was a hint of sadness in their eyes from your pull away from them.

"Don't be scared. They helped us! They helped you! Especially the Doctor man." Your nephew grinned as he held your hand and decided to make you sit up and face the group properly and pointed at the Doctor. The Doctor that he mentioned was practically preening from the praise like a peacock showing off its feathers.

The grip on his hand lessened as you looked at all twelve people one by one. It didn't take a rocket scientist to distinguish the power that they all radiated. Though at the time, you didn't know of the power you held yourself.

The elegant lady with long white hair, icy blue eyes, and who seemed to scream 'Ice Queen', slowly walked up to your bedside with a gentle smile as her hand moved to slowly hold yours. Now, you wouldn't have minded if it was your nephew or family, but this was a stranger. A stranger with a very firm grip despite how delicate it was.

"Now. How shall we punish the meaner that's done this to you?"

Eh?

-x-

It was... a change to have people cater to your every whim despite half of them being just jokes like bringing you the finest gem. The honor of bestowing such a gem was by none other than the 9th Harbinger, Pantalone.

Your nephew was having a great time, especially when he got to get along with a majority of the Harbingers and the Fatui, who took the mission of entertaining Nugget very seriously.

Once your arms were good as new, you asked for the group of Fatui soldiers that you and your nephew first encountered. At first, they were adamant about having you and Nugget leave the palace but you needed to get back to your car and get the rest of your things.

But funnily enough, you don't remember a palace or an organization going by the Fatui in your life...

Not to mention, these people seemed to recognize you and your nephew despite you two not knowing any of them.

If you thought of it more, a headache occurred and the Tsarista was adamant in asking you to save your energy and that it didn't matter if you recognized them. That all that mattered was that you and the Heir were fine.

While bedridden, your Nephew had the privilege to waltz around like he owned the place and even got you some books to read in the meantime. You saw mentions of a Divine Creator, a God-like figure that was first in creating the world around you and beyond, the one that made the stars and skies. A Divine Creator from the Beyond gave life to a speck in the skies and named it Teyvat and thus, its first child was born.

During a certain period when the Creator was roaming freely, they announced that their sister was with child and so, the Creator named the unborn babe the Heir to Teyvat.

The book was quite the read and wanting to know more about why the people around you and Nugget called you the Divine Creator and the Heir, you took it around with you.

"Your Grace, you must bundle up. Snezhnayan winters are quite brutal. People freeze to death here, quite literally in fact." announced a Fatui sniper, the one that first saw you and Nugget as he came behind you and placed a coat, courtesy of Pantalone of course, on your shoulders and your nephew too.

Stepping out to the brutal snow, instead of the harsh snow that you were expecting, it was a light snowfall that shocked the group of Fatui that decided to travel with you.

[Nephew's Name] stepped out from behind you and cheered happily as he rushed out to the snow and started to play, making snowmen and snow angels with, of course, the Fatui looking out and being won over by the child's heart-felt giggles.

They were all trying to make sense of why the snowfall was reduced to just light snow instead of the blizzards they're used to until they recalled that their Divine Grace and the Heir were right here with them. Teyvat was the Divine Creator's first child and as the loyal child it was, it could always sense where they were. Though Snezhnaya was the domain of the Tsarista, the Cryo Archon, the Divine Creator's word was Law.

Ehe.

Everything came to a slow stop as the world first heard the giggle from the Creator and with each step that you had taken, noticeable patches of green started to appear and grow more and more. The chilled winds of winter called down as the grey skies parted to make way for the rays of the sun.

The Tsarista felt the pause of winter, looking out that the frozen lands of her region have warmed up to what it had been long ago before her ascension.

Her Grace has given warmth back to the frozen tundras of Snezhnaya to the point that the flora and fauna basked in the sunlight. "Nugget. Be careful. The snow is melting."

And like that, the snow stopped melting just enough for your nephew to enjoy making snow angels.

'Welcome to Teyvat, Divine Creator!'

TAGLIST:

@lizzhearthz, @yoshikuno , @anonclyde , @khalhaimdad, @ellenoir

@yunsblog030 , @lsleepysimpl, @potol0ver, @kitty-chan33

#genshin self aware #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #Harbingers x reader #Fatui harbingers #genshin cult au #sagau #Dottore x reader #Pantalone x reader #Scaramouche x reader #Childe x reader #Capitano x reader #Coloumbina x reader #Sandrone x reader #Pierro x reader #female reader #Signora x reader

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redclercs · 11 months

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

vii. all of my enemies started out friends

— the one where you get the sense you've been betrayed.

warnings: death threats, foul language, a panic attack. 2.7k words. (+written articles) not proofread whoops.

masterlist ✢ next

By Alana Blake

WELL, all of our doubts have been cleared, here is the reason as to why our ex favorite couple called it quits months ago. Thank you to our anonymous source for spilling the tea!

First things first, let's not lie to ourselves, we all thought it had been Aidan Kim who had finally dumped y/n's ass for good. But as it turns out, he wanted to keep her forever? Aidan, boy...

Anyway, one night in February (ehem Valentine's Day, so cliché) he dropped down on one knee, popped the question with a beautiful Tiffany's ring and... Y/N SAID NO! Insert gasps here.

Without a good enough reason to justify her denial, y/n immediately ran to the opposite coast, where she currently resides with best friend, beauty guru and influencer Victoria Presley.

RELATED: Victoria Presley inaugurates first 'Presley Beauty' store in Beverly Hills.

Our source also confirmed y/n's blooming romance with Formula 1 pilot, Charles Leclerc.

"They are seeing each other, yes," the source said, "y/n doesn't want to call it a 'thing' since she's probably going to get bored of the poor guy.''

Well, there you have it. It looks like y/n's only talent is being a maneater. Somebody warn Charles Leclerc he's just piece of meat in the eyes of y/n!

SEE ALSO:

→ Victoria Presley attends the Monaco Grand Prix.

→ y/n y/ln reportedly auditioned for 'The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes'

→ Aidan Kim is currently recording his first solo album.

𝙂𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝘼𝙔? 𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙒!

You're seeing the top comments.

Anonymous – 4 hr ago

If I ever see y/n on the street i will literally kill her

sk12z8io – 3 hr ago

I KNEW SHE NEVER DESERVED AIDAN

mickeyyy – 40 min ago

she fucking cheated you cannot convince me otherwise

chiqin– 10 min ago

oh she's vile, rejecting a marriage proposal and getting together with another dude two months later? TRASH.

Anonymous – 10 min ago

I want to know who the source is and why are they speaking until now

WHO would have thought? y/n y/ln the "Queen of RomComs" where cheating is basically a Deadly Sin, is in fact, a cheater!

The news about y/n rejecting Aidan Kim's marriage proposal came out only a few hours ago via Inside Out, and while they claim y/n didn't have a good enough reason not to get engaged to Kim, we believe quite the opposite.

Having a side-piece is a perfectly good reason, actually. Sources, who wished to remain anonymous, confirmed that at the time of the proposal, y/n was already seeing Monegasque pilot Charles Leclerc, but they had been able to keep it a secret until Elix contract made y/n start showing up at Grand Prix.

Although the information spreading around is still unclear, we can be sure of two things: Aidan Kim dodged a bullet and y/n is probably the worst person on Earth.

#Y/NIsOverParty

June 3rd Barcelona, Spain.

You're sitting with Charles and Carlos when you get the first ping on your phone. You don't give it much thought, Mildred told you she'd send you two script excerpts she wanted you to practice for an audition video, plus your phone doesn't even really stop ringing.

Spain has been fun so far, you have been around both Carlos and Charles around a lot lately. Carlos is always keen on dropping facts about his country and you got, just like with Charles, his special edition Ferrari merch. This time you wear it, because fuck fashion podcasts.

Charles doesn't let this slip, feigning annoyance that you prefer to wear a Spain cap than a Monaco one, and telling you he will in fact take it personally. But he doesn't, of course, he's thrilled you're more comfortable around both of them. Enough to join them for dinner yesterday and today.

The Ferrari boys are talking about FP3 and how Qualifying might go later. They've done pretty well this weekend, and you're hoping Carlos will end the Grand Prix on the podium like Charles did last week.

"Is that your phone?" Carlos asks, he's tried his best for the last few minutes to ignore the never-ending flow of notifications, even after you've silenced it, the vibration still makes him lose focus on the conversation.

"Sorry," you wince, knowing how annoying it is. "It's probably Vic."

"Everything okay?" Charles frowns, following your hands as you take your phone out of your pocket again to activate the Do Not Disturb.

"Yeah, I don't—"

Your sentence hangs in the air unfinished as you read the screen, the last notification comes from Matilde an 'are you okay? call me' text. And then your eyes slide to the BREAKING NEWS from People Magazine, whose notifs you forgot to deactivate. You don't even know why you have the app anymore.

The preview shows your picture, a red x on your face and the words 'Cheater Alert' capitalized and bold.

"y/n?" you see the motion of Carlos' hand from the corner of your eye, but by now, you're obsessively scrolling down the 150+ notifications on your phone. Texts, calls, e-mails, tweets, comments.

You stop in the INSIDE OUT EXCLUSIVE the moment your eyes catch the word 'ring'.

They know.

And if they know, everyone knows.

Charles pushes his chair back, making the half empty styrofoam cup of coffee you were drinking spill all over the table. "What's wrong?"

Aidan has told them. Aidan fucking Kim, petty and vengeful Aidan Kim has told them about the ring. Because he wants to bury you so far down, you'll never be able to claw your way out of the hole.

Who else could have been? You told no one. Not a soul. How can a person not even tell their parents that she got a marriage offer and said no immediately, right before hopping on a plane to the other side of the country?

But cheating? Where the fuck did that come from? He's even lying now. Because he hates you, of course he hates you. Aidan Kim is not used to humilliation and that's what you did when you rejected him. And although it was an unspoken accord that you wouldn't tell anyone about it, he has done so, because what is better for his upcoming album than being the heartbroken artist with the bitch for an ex.

People are going to write 'It's your loss y/n!' with their proof of streaming for a retweet from Aidan's account, managed by a 34-year-old guy who can't stand Aidan's fans on a normal basis.

"I– I have to–" your mouth is dry, tongue thick and heavy, and you feel the cold shower of anxiety from your nape to your tailbone. This can't be happening.

And you don't know what you have to do. Call Mildred and Walter? Ask them what the fuck is going on over there and start an actual damage control PR thing? It's too late for that.

"What can we do?" Carlos questions this time, worry flows in his voice at the change in your semblance. "What can we do for you?"

You're scared, because people have talked shit endlessly for weeks thinking it had been Aidan who dumped you, changing the narrative, twisting it time and time again.

They have suspected you broke up with Aidan, they have dragged you through the mud, called you heartless for getting over him so quickly. Paired you up with Charles and called you both problematic for breathing around each other and being friends.

And they might have forgiven you eventually, but not if you actually broke Aidan Kim's heart and burned down his dream of a house, a marriage and a happy family. And by cheating.

He's lying, but who would believe you?

Your already agonizing career is never coming out of this. And at this point, maybe acting seems irrelevant compared to the way people are going to treat you from now on. No one forgets a woman who humiliates a man so publicly. She doesn't deserve to be forgiven, not when she's such a bitch.

"I can't breathe," you wheeze, clutching your hand against the fabric of your shirt. Your hands are prickling, and your brain is fogged, foreign. "I can't breathe."

Neither man touches you as you lean down, hands on your knees, shutting your eyes so hard you think your eyeballs might explode.

You feel one of the boys move, but you don't open your eyes to see who left. Your priority is getting air into your lungs, and you can't seem to do even just that.

"y/n," Charles is the one who stayed, and despite speaking slowly, you recognize the underlying panic there. "I'm going to touch you, okay?"

Your only response is a strangled noise as you breathe through your mouth.

Charles runs his hand down your back, you can feel his rings and the heat of his palm. “Try to breathe through your nose, y/n.”

He feels stupid for saying it, but it’s the only advice he sees fit. Carlos left to look for the medical staff that Ferrari takes with them everywhere.

You squeeze your thighs with your hands and again take a gasp of air. “I can’t. Help me, I can’t.”

Charles makes you straighten up by grabbing your shoulders gently. “Please try. You’re speaking you can breathe.”

You breathe through your nose, but it isn’t enough to relieve the pressure on your chest.

Carlos comes back just when you feel like you will pass out. And you let the medical staff lead you away, leaving both your friends behind, worried sick and wondering what could have possibly triggered you like that.

You're still lying in the gurney after Qualifying is done. The medical team doesn't let you watch it, you should not be subjected to strong emotions right now. The thing is, the strong emotions haven't even started. You need to talk to your team, and you want to talk to Aidan. You've only heard from him twice since your breakup in February, the last time three days ago when he texted you 'out of SoHo'.

In all honesty, you're not certain you'll be able to hold a conversation with him without telling him to go fuck himself or having another panic attack. But you must know the reasoning behind his actions, no matter how stupid it is. How angrier it will make you. You want to understand why the person that once loved you is stabbing you in the back like this.

You're free to go an hour later, and it's some kind of miracle that you're relieved of your Elix duties. Maybe it has to do with the disaster that Ferrari's Quali was, in contrast to the Free Practices. No one wants to make things worse, or have pictures to remember it.

By the time you're back in your hotel room, Aidan's campaign has been transported to Youtube. And it's only 10 am in Los Angeles.

FROM AIDAN KIM’S YOUTUBE CHANNEL “STATEMENT ON RECENT NEWS”

You are looking at the top comments.

star5dan he had to find out he got cheated on thanks to People? fuck

flowerbedkim I'm not even joking, i will end y/n

dropbeats1 it takes a lot of courage to propose, y/n is def a bitch

stardomyn you knew y/n for years and you can't defend her? she is obviously not a cheater.

aidanyn this keeps getting worse i can't pick a side😭

You read the articles sitting in your bed. Legs crossed and back curved, with your shoulders slumping forward. It's like you have the whole weight of the world back in them, and you're not even sure you're strong enough to carry it anymore.

Did you really not have a good enough reason to say no? Not having a good reason to say yes should be enough, at least that's the way you think about it.

But you had many, many reasons. Some you'd denied yourself to even think about before he pulled the ring out of his pocket.

Every relationship has its ups and downs, you knew that. You know that. But how long can you stay in an all time low?

Maybe you lied to yourself saying Aidan had never hinted marriage was in his plans. He mentioned it in interviews, and in casual conversations with other people. He would tell you that “in the future” you’d have to reconsider being an actress. That you should really think about the roles you wanted to take on so they didn’t haunt you (and you hypothetical children) in the future.

Aidan would drop comments about how you should stick to the easy parts of acting, making the same movies, for example. How you should behave a certain way and shut your mouth in specific occasions.

How you had to change yourself to fit into what he wanted.

And you did. Because at first, it wasn’t that he wanted you to change for him. He made you think he wanted you to change for your own good.

And that night in February, you realized you were scared. The thought of spending the rest of your life like that terrified you. So you ran, and that was really the bravest thing you could have done.

And the bravest thing you can do now is stand up to him. Because he cannot keep on stepping on you and destroying what you built for yourself.

"Hello?"

You're shocked he actually picks up your call but you can't back down now.

"What the fuck, Aidan?" you try not to raise your voice, you do your best to help the strain that comes from not crying. You're furious, not sad, but you know Aidan won't recognize the difference. "What the fuck is this whole circus you're putting up now?"

The way he chuckles makes you want to throw your phone across the room.

"Do you really think that was me?" he asks, changing his voice to a lower tone. "Do you think I willingly say the girl I invested three years of my life on said she didn't want to marry me?"

"Well who else could have been? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"It was not me, y/n! Jesus Christ I don't know how many people—"

"So it was your sister, that bitch?"

"Don't you call me sister a bitch ever again."

Well Mia Kim is a bitch. And she was for the whole three years you dated Aidan.

Starting with telling anyone who would listen that you were after Aidan for clout, even after you hooked her up with your acting instructor and helped her get a minor role in Outer Banks. Comments on your appearance, on your acting, and the way you Aidan and you got along. And the worst part was that every time you two saw each other she acted like she adored you.

"She is a bitch, Aidan, and this is something she would do out of spite! Also, cheating? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I don't put anything past you, y/n." Aidan chuckles again, it's sarcastic and bothersome.

"Fuck you, Aidan. We knew each other for years, and suddenly I'm the worst person on Earth?"

"Yeah, maybe you always were and whoever is letting people know is doing the world a huge favor."

Your skin isn't thick enough yet, and his words hit the way he intended.

"I'm glad people are eating you alive, y/n," he continues as your silence prolongs, you can't swallow the tears now. "It's what you deserve."

He hangs up before you can respond, and it doesn't matter anymore. There's nothing you can say to make him admit to his crimes, and he's happy. He's happy you're being torn down in such a vile way.

The phone inside your hotel room rings and you pick it up before being able to pull yourself together. The 'what?' that lashes out catches the woman downstairs off guard, and this is another thing you add to the list of things that make you the worst person on planet Earth.

"Someone is here for you, Miss y/ln," she says in an apologetic tone, "Mr. Leclerc?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to speak to you like that," you take a deep breath, and then process her words. "Leclerc?"

"Hmhmm," she hums, "Should I send him upstairs?"

The alarm clock next to the phone shows 19:57 in red and you remember you agreed to meet him and Carlos for dinner at seven thirty. You didn't even shower or changed.

"Uh– yeah, please do."

You splash cold water on your face and brush your teeth in the two minutes it takes him to get to your room.

Charles knows there's something wrong the moment you open the door, and it doesn't take a genius, really. But you wish he was oblivious to the way you look and the off-putting energy you give off.

"I'm sorry I'm late," you say making space for him to enter the mess of a room you have. "Is Carlos waiting downstairs?"

"He's at the restaurant already," Charles shrugs, it doesn't matter that you've made them both wait over twenty minutes. "Are you okay?"

You sit on your bed, letting him stand in the middle of the room, like a mannequin out of place. You have two options, lying to him, pushing everything under the rug and lookin for your purse to meet Carlos downstairs. Or tell the truth and burst out crying in front of him.

You don't like either.

So you stay silent, looking at patterns in the rug and trying to get your racing brain to come to a stop, if only to have a decent meal with the two guys that saw you panic hours ago.

Charles sits down next to you, the mattress gives to his side, sinking. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You eye his hand as he places it on top of the washed out knee of his jeans. The prominent veins and the three rings on his fingers. You remember the way it felt when he ran his hand down your back.

"I don't." you reply, taking your eyes back to his face. You wonder if he knows, just doesn't want to mortify you about it. That he's 'just a piece of meat' and a 'homewrecker'. You wonder if Carlos knows too.

"Do you still want to come downstairs?" Charles tilts his head, giving you a smile that lifts one corner of his mouth.

"Sure, let's do that," you get up from the bed smoothing your jeans down although there's nothing wrong with them, and regaining that self-consciousness that you didn't even change your clothes for dinner while Charles is looking like that in a clean white shirt. "Sorry for being late."

Charles lets you roam around the room looking for your purse for two minutes, still sitting on the edge of your bed, before speaking again. "We really like you, y/n. I really like you."

You snap out of your self-induced trance, pretending like you were checking you had everything you needed in your purse. "What?"

"Carlos and I really like you, and so does Matilde, and that friend of yours Victoria. You're not alone, I hope you know that."

He's seeing right through you again.

And the effort that took you to pull yourself together and the self-deprecating words that ran through your head to force yourself not to cry in front of him are all left behind, as you burst out crying.

You let Charles hold you, his right hand on the nape of your neck while the other soothes you the way it did earlier. He doesn't complain about the way your tears stain his shirt, and doesn't even make a sound as you sob.

And you stay like that for as long as you need to, although you haven't cried nearly enough. It has to suffice for now. Because you have to go back to L.A. and fix the mess Aidan created.

─── team principal radio: ❝i feel like i'm doing rowoon super dirty by having him as aidan kim, tbh. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter! reblogs and comments/asks are highly appreacited, i'd love to know your thoughts!♡❞

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fluentmoviequoter · 6 months

Text

One More Favor

Pairing: Titans!Dick Grayson x fem!reader (most of this fic takes place in/around Titans 1x2)

Summary: When Dick takes Rachel out of Detroit, he needs help, but he'll have to call in a few favors first.

Word Count: 5.0k+ words

Warnings: POV changes (that hopefully make sense), fluff, a little bit of angst, descriptions of injuries/self-harm (reader cuts her arm open to remove a tracker), several descriptive fight scenes, guns?, spoiler for Titans.

A/N: This is my first Dick Grayson fic, and I actually wrote it several months ago and just got around the editing it. Dick may be OOC, but I hope you enjoy this and please let me know what you think!

Masterlist | DC/Dick Grayson Masterlist | Request Info (OPEN)

Gotham City - 4 Years Ago

The heavy door creaks as it is pulled open, warm air blowing out into the cold rain. You step inside, dropping your umbrella in the overflowing bin and wiping your shoes on the mat. Shivering slightly, you run your hands up and down your arms, attempting to warm up.

“Hi, Alfred,” you greet as you look over at him, your smile dropping at the solemn look on his face. “What happened?”

“Master Grayson left last night. He left you this,” Alfred answers as he hands you an envelope, your name written in Dick’s handwriting across the front.

“He’s not coming back, is he?” you ask, tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m afraid not. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you, Alfred. I’m going to go home,” you say as you pull the door open and step out, waiting for the door to close behind you. You take a deep breath and start running, not even thinking about the umbrella you left. As your tears mix with the rain on your skin, your heart feels about as warm as the Gotham City air.

Fremont, Ohio - Present Day

“Where are you taking me?” Rachel asks, spinning one of her rings on her finger as she looks out the window.

“To see an old friend. She can help us,” Dick answers, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.

An hour later, Dick checks his phone while he waits in the car as Rachel goes into a truck stop. He tracks her through the window as he dials a number he hasn’t called in years. It rings several times, and he thinks he won’t get an answer.

“Hello?” A voice asks as the line connects.

“Hi, Alfred, it’s me.”

“It’s been a long time, Master Grayson.”

“I know. This is a one-time thing; I need a favor.”

Omar, Ohio – Present Day

You enter the diner, sighing as you fall into a booth. Looking up at the television mounted in the corner, you see a story about yet another murder in Detroit. It’s almost as bad as Gotham City these days.

“How’s my favorite customer today?” Dan asks as he walks to the booth, his apron still on.

“I’ll bet you say that to all of your customers,” you counter with a smile, your hood still pulled over your head.

“I most certainly do not. What can I get you today?”

“Just some tea, please.”

“You need to eat.”

“Will you let me pay?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“I’m not letting you give me free food every day, Dan. Just tea.”

“Fine,” Dan sighs, returning to the kitchen and passing your order to a waitress.

The bell above the door chimes as it opens, a few sets of footsteps echoing as the door closes. You pull your hood up further, turning to face the back corner. Kelsey, Dan’s only waitress at this hour, drops off the mug of tea and a book, smiling at you as she walks away. She’s been lending you books since you first visited two months ago. You slide it closer, shaking your head as you read the summary: a vigilante who gets a new partner. Sounds familiar.

Benton, Pennsylvania – 3 ½ Years Ago

You take a deep breath before you dig the knife into your arm, making a shallow slice from the middle of your forearm up to your elbow. After you drop the knife into the hotel bathroom sink, you grab a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit and dig around, gritting your teeth as you ignore the pain. When you finally see a glint of silver, you grab it and pull. The tracker makes a ‘clink’ sound as it falls into the sink and goes down the drain. You sigh as you pick up the pre-threaded needle and start on the stitches. Good luck finding me now, Bruce.

Norwalk, Ohio – Earlier Today

“If the police are looking for me, is it smart to be on an interstate?” Rachel asks.

Dick sighs, knowing she is right. He pulls off at the next exit, getting on a small Ohio state route and heading south. They drive for about thirty minutes before coming to a small diner, claiming to have the state’s best chicken and waffles. Dick is ready for a break, so he doesn’t fight Rachel when she asks him to stop. They walk into the diner, and Dick looks around, planning escape routes and scanning for trouble. The waitress and the cook both say hello as Dick and Rachel sit by the window, the kitchen and the door visible. Dick looks at the only other customer, a girl in an oversized sweatshirt leaning over a book and nursing a mug of something.

“I’m Kelsey. What can I get you, folks?” Kelsey smiles as she approaches their table.

“Chicken and waffles, please,” Rachel orders.

“Coming up, and for you, sir?”

“Just coffee,” Dick answers, smiling.

Dick watches as the cook takes the order from Kelsey before nodding toward the girl in the booth. Kelsey walks over and starts talking to her, but Dick can’t tell if it is a friendly conversation or a ‘you need to leave’ conversation. Kelsey’s shoulders drop as she turns around and walks back to the kitchen pass-through, shaking her head as she speaks to the cook. A plate and a mug slide onto the counter, and Kelsey carries them over to Dick and Rachel, telling them to let her know if they need anything.

“What are you looking at?” Rachel asks.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s going on over there,” Dick answers, gesturing across the restaurant with his chin.

Rachel looks over and cocks her head slightly, “Kelsey’s happy but a little worried, the other one is really hard to read.”

Dick nods, sipping his coffee as he looks up at the television screen. His heart drops as Rachel’s picture appears on the screen, but it is gone before he can say anything. Dick looks toward the kitchen, but no one is there. Turning his head, he sees the cook talking to the other customer, sitting at the booth with her. Kelsey and the cook stand, and the cook returns to the kitchen as Kelsey walks toward their table.

“How is everything?” Kelsey asks.

“Great. Those were definitely the best in the state,” Rachel answers.

“Need anything else?”

“Just the check,” Dick answers, reaching for his wallet.

“It’s been covered,” Kelsey assures before clearing the table.

“By who?” Dick asks, eyebrows furrowing as Kelsey smiles.

The girl in the booth looks up suddenly, leaning to look out the window. She stands and moves toward Kelsey, telling her something before walking out the back door, the book she had been reading abandoned at the booth. Kelsey whispers something to Dan before turning quickly to walk back to Dick and Rachel.

“Someone is here for her,” Kelsey says to Dick, gesturing toward Rachel, “there’s a room through the kitchen with a back door.”

Dick and Rachel stand quickly, following her through the kitchen. They all freeze at the sound of gunshots, then begin moving again.

“Why are you helping us?” Dick asks.

“Favor for a friend,” Kelsey answers as she opens the back door. “Be careful.”

Dick nods as he ushers Rachel to stand on one side of him, gripping his gun in his other hand as they slowly round the building. The girl in the sweatshirt, who Dick really needs a new name for, is standing in the parking lot, a pipe falling from her hand and three unconscious men sprawled on the ground around her. She looks up before dropping her head, putting her hands in her pocket, and walking away. Dick hears one of the men groan and decides to leave before they come to. Rachel keeps asking him if he knows the girl, and the only answer he can supply is, “I don’t think so.” Maybe he should make it his new catchphrase.

Gotham City – 4 Years Ago

You enter your apartment and grab your backpack, dumping its contents out on the floor before you run around and grab what you consider “essentials”: an extra pair of shoes, a change of clothes, cash, a fake ID, a sweatshirt, a blanket, and the letter from Dick. You slide the letter into the protected laptop pocket of my backpack, promising yourself you will read it someday, but not right now. You put on your best pair of sneakers, comfortable and warm clothes, and a jacket with a hood before walking to the ATM, emptying your account, and ditching your card before boarding a bus to Princeton. As you watch Gotham City fade behind the bus, you cry because you lost a part of yourself, and you know it would hurt too much to see reminders of him. So, you leave.

Glen Easton, West Virginia – 2 Years Ago

You check into the small motel with cash and a fake ID, grateful you can sleep in a real bed for once. You find your room and collapse against the small mattress, setting your backpack beside the bed. You open it and pull out a change of clothes before showering. The letter from Dick is still in the computer pocket, unopened. When you think you are finally ready to open it, you get scared about what is inside it and change your mind.

You retrieve the sweatshirt from the bottom of the backpack and put it on. Then you order a pizza and turn on the TV. The sweatshirt is the only thing that provides you comfort after leaving Gotham City. You left everything that tied you to that life, except the sweatshirt, and nights like this make you wish you had realized Dick was going to leave and chased him.

Omar, Ohio – Present Day

“Why are we driving around in circles? I thought you were taking me somewhere?” Rachel asks.

“I’m looking for the girl that helped us,” Dick mumbles as he looks across the street.

“Oh,” Rachel says with a smile.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve felt different since you saw her in the diner.”

“She just reminded me of someone I used to know.”

“Someone you knew. Seems like a lot more emotion than simple acquaintances.”

“Fine, we were best friends. We did- some stuff together and we were super close,” Dick said, failing to find a way to explain their vigilante activities.

“You did stuff together?” Rachel repeats incredulously.

“Not like that,” Dick huffs. “We just- she was my best friend, and I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Why?”

“I left.”

“You left her?”

“I didn’t leave her; I left the life I had then.”

“And by extension, her,” Rachel scoffs. “Why haven’t you called her?”

“I tried, once. Her number had been disconnected and I didn’t know her new one. Or if she even wanted to talk to me.”

“Surely you know someone who would’ve stayed in contact with her. Call them.”

Dick sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He does know someone.

“Right now,” Rachel adds, “I can feel your sadness and it’s bumming me out.”

Dick pulls over, pulling his phone from his pocket and typing the number. “It’s me again. I need one more favor,” he says when the line connects.

“Of course, Master Grayson,” Alfred agrees.

“I’m looking for,” he glances at Rachel, who is listening intently, before finishing, “her. I was wondering if you had a new number for her. Or know where she is?”

“Master Grayson,” Alfred says sadly, “we haven’t seen her in four years.”

“Four years?” Dick asks, eyes widening.

“Yes, sir. She left right after you did.”

“Did you give her the letter?”

“I did. She ran out of the manor, literally, after I gave it to her. We have not heard from her since.”

“Any idea where she went?”

“Last we knew she was in Benton, Pennsylvania. But that was nearly three and a half years ago. I’m sorry, Master Grayson.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick says before hanging up.

“Sorry,” Rachel says quietly, “I shouldn’t have made you call.”

“Not your fault,” Dick assures her before pulling out. He slams on his brakes and backs up, turning into an alley and parking.

“What?” Rachel yells, gripping her seat.

“I think she’ll go back to the diner, they seemed to know her. Enough to give us free food on her behalf.”

“That’s what you think happened?” Rachel asks sarcastically.

“You’re the one that read their emotions.”

Rachel sighs before agreeing, “You’re right. She’ll go back.”

They find a small motel and get a room for the night, leaving their stuff in the room before returning to the diner. Entering, Dick and Rachel look around but only see the cook and a different waitress.

“Welcome back,” the cook, who introduces himself as Dan, greets.

“Hi, Dan. We’re looking for the girl who was in here this morning. She was wearing a grey sweatshirt, reading a book, and left quickly out the back door,” Dick explains.

“Yeah, I know her. Why are you looking for her?”

“She helped you. That’s why you’re so nice to her, if not a little protective, isn’t it?” Rachel asks.

Dan’s brow furrows as he answers, “Yes, she helped me.”

“We’re not trying to hurt her or get her in trouble or anything. She helped us this morning and we’d like to repay the favor,” Dick promises. “Could you at least give us her name?”

“I don’t know her name,” Dan answers. “But she’ll probably come back here in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Dick and Rachel say together.

The following morning, Dick checks out of the motel and drives to the diner. They both look to the booth where she sat yesterday as they walk in, frowning when they see no one there. Kelsey smiles as she greets them and takes their order, exactly as they had yesterday. Dick spins his mug around as he watches the television, trying to keep himself from staring at the door.

“Dick,” Rachel whispers a few minutes later. She gestures toward the counter, where the girl is now sitting, wearing the same sweatshirt as yesterday.

Before Dick can do anything, Dan’s voice fills the diner. “All three of you need to get somewhere safe. Everyone in town is talking about some secret service agents asking about you folks.”

“All of us?” The girl in the sweatshirt asks.

“You know how these people feel about cops, but they’ll come in here eventually and you don’t need to be here,” Dan says.

“11 North Country Road 29,” the girl in the sweatshirt calls as she stands, “you got that?”

“Yeah, we got it,” Rachel answers, practically dragging Dick to the front door.

Dick gets in the car and speeds toward the address, hoping that the girl in the sweatshirt will meet them there. And give them her name. He parks between the house and a row of trees, where the car is hidden from the road. The back door is unlocked, and Dick sweeps the house before ushering Rachel in. Several minutes later, the back door opens again, and the girl in the sweatshirt walks in, coming face-to-muzzle with Dick’s gun. Her hands are raised as he lowers the gun.

“Sorry,” Dick apologizes as he holsters it.

“Not a problem. I’d give it a few hours before leaving,” the girl says, moving past them.

“Thank you. For yesterday and right now,” Rachel says.

“Least I could do. I’ll be in the back room if you need anything.”

Rachel waits until she is out of earshot to turn toward Dick and ask, “She really reminds you of this girl doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighs. “That obvious?”

“Your shame is practically choking me. Why did you hurt her?"

“I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not an excuse, Dick.”

Rachel walks toward the back room, determined to find a way to help Dick get over his hurt.

Omar, Ohio – 2 Months Ago

“Take your hands off the girl,” you demand as you enter the dark room.

Three men turn toward you, one raising a gun as the others take a step closer. You see a girl tied to a chair, a gag in her mouth, blood everywhere, and fear in her eyes.

“You don’t know who you’re messing with, sweetheart,” the man with the gun growls.

“Right back at ya,” you say, taking a threatening step toward him.

The two other men charge toward you. You catch one of their fists as they throw it toward you, twisting him in front of you to encounter the brunt of the other man’s hit as he throws it. Their shared momentum knocks them both to the floor. You slide across the floor, elbowing the third man’s knee as you grab his hand, flipping his wrist so the gun falls to the floor. You pick it up and level it at his temple.

“One more time: let the girl go,” you demand slowly.

One of the men on the floor throws a knife, which spins in the air and nicks your arm. You glance toward him before swinging the gun and taking three shots, taking out one knee on every man. As they groan in pain and roll on the floor, you untie the girl and ask her where to go. She directs me to her father’s diner.

“I’m looking for Dan,” you say as you carry her through the back door.

Dan comes running, grabbing his first aid kit as he sits beside her. “Your arm needs attention?” he asks as he points to your scarred forearm and the small bloody patch from the knife.

“No, I’m all good. Thank you.” You begin to stand, but he stops you, refusing to let you leave until you eat something.

“You’ll never pay here. Come back anytime,” Dan says when you leave an hour later.

Omar, Ohio – Present Day

“Sorry about him,” Rachel says as she walks into the back room.

“It’s completely fine.” The girl in the sweatshirt laughs softly, her hand playing with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Rachel says as she sits in a chair across from her.

“How long have they been looking for you?”

“About a week. Since they killed my mom.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rachel shrugs. “Just so you know, the guy I’m with, Dick, he’s a cop. And he’s not usually this weird.”

She laughs again, looking up long enough that Rachel can see her face.

“You remind him of someone he used to know.”

She shakes her head before changing the subject. “You’re Rachel, right? I’m assuming you can do something, otherwise, they wouldn’t be looking for you.”

“I can feel what other people are feeling. There’s something inside of me, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Rachel, you can learn to control it. It’s obvious you’re a good person.”

“I tried to read your emotions at the diner yesterday,” Rachel admits, “but you have a lot, and they were overlapping.”

“A lot has happened to me in the last few years. I don’t even know what I’m feeling all the time.”

“They’re clearer now. You’re sad and regretful,” Rachel says quietly.

“I don’t care that you’re looking, Rach. The more you use your powers, the better you’ll get at them. And you’re dead on.”

“Sometimes, when I touch people I can see some of their memories,” Rachel explains.

The girl in the sweatshirt smiles. “You don’t even know my name.”

“What’s your name?”

She extends her hand and answers, “Find out.”

Gotham City is cold in winter, and the freezing rain is not helping the temperature issue. Robin is fighting behind me, our backs touching as we take down the last of the numerous bad guys.

“Nice work,” Robin says as he smiles at me. “But you’re cold, stop touching me.”

“Oh? I am cold? Your Kevlar is practically frozen,” I respond sarcastically.

He pulls me into his side, pressing the button on his belt to turn on his cape heater.

The setting changes: a large door opens, and an umbrella is placed in a bin, destined to be forgotten.

“-left last night. He left you this.”

An envelope trades hands, and a name is written on it. The door is opened and closed, then running in the rain gives way to stressed packing and boarding a bus. The same envelope is unopened years later, a new scar appears on a forearm, the same backpack is stashed in a motel, and a sweatshirt is the most prized possession.

Omar, Ohio – Present Day

“It was you,” Rachel says, her eyes wide as her hand slips from yours.

“What was?” you ask.

“You’re the girl Dick left, the one he’s feeling so guilty and sad about.”

“He what?”

“He saw you in the diner and was reminded of a girl he used to know. He said they ‘did stuff together.’ You don’t look like that girl; you are that girl.”

“What did you see?” you ask, confused about how exactly her powers work.

“I see some of the most important things in your life. I saw you fighting with Robin and then learning that someone left. You’ve been on the run since then, haven’t you? And the sweatshirt means something.”

“What do you know about Robin?”

“I know who he is. I know what he went through. I think you two should talk.”

A noise outside causes you to stand suddenly. “Stay here.”

You walk out, seeing Dick holding his gun as he moves toward a window. You move to the other side of the room, by another door, and stand against the wall as the door is kicked open. A hand holding a gun comes inside; you grab the wrist and slam it down against your knee. The gun hits the floor and slides away. The man raises both hands to your shoulders, pushing you backward and into the wall. You form a fist and slam it up into his chin, his head snapping back as his grip on you loosens. While you fight him, Dick takes on a second man who enters the house.

Dick moves behind the door, grabbing the man’s shirt collar and flipping him to the floor. He attempts to get information from him but comes up empty. Slamming his fist to his nose repeatedly, Dick doesn’t stop until the man loses consciousness. He looks over and sees the girl in the sweatshirt standing from the floor, wiping blood from her nose.

“That was impressive. You two could be partners,” Rachel says as she walks in, smirking as she looks over at you.

Dick opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, telling them, “You two should get out of here while you still can.”

“I’m not leaving,” Rachel says, crossing her arms. “Not until you two talk.”

“About what?” Dick asks.

“Rachel,” you warn.

“She’s right. We do need to get going.”

“Show him.”

“Either we need to leave, or I need more information,” Dick sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

A phone rings in the back room, and you walk away to answer it, releasing a breath as you realize it was Kelsey.

“What was that about?” Dick whispers.

“You two have to talk before you never get a chance again,” Rachel says.

“Someone broke into your house and assaulted several officers,” you say as you return, “the police are calling a nationwide manhunt for you, Rachel.”

“I am not leaving without you,” she says, stepping toward you and grabbing your hand.

Her eyes fall to the sleeve before she glances up at you and pushes the sleeve up. You push it back down quickly and look away from her.

“I can’t go with you,” you say sadly, shaking your head.

“You can if you want to,” Dick offers, “you’ve been a huge help.”

You look toward Rachel, who only nods as she squeezes your hand.

“Just tell him,” Rachel whispers.

You take a deep breath before you look up and pull your hood down. “Hi, Dickie.”

Dick’s eyes widen as he takes a hesitant step forward.

“Rachel said I remind you of someone,” you say. “I thought-“

Dick cuts you off by rushing forward and hugging you tightly. You return the hug, gripping him tightly and burying your face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I left,” Dick whispers.

“It’s okay.”

“Tell him everything else,” Rachel encourages from beside you.

You squeeze Dick one more time before pulling back and saying, “I left Gotham City after you did. Alfred gave me the letter and I just ran. I’ve been in a bunch of small cities since then, but nowhere as long as here. I saved Dan’s daughter from some kidnappers and just stayed for some reason.”

“Alfred said he didn’t know where you went after Benton,” Dick says.

“I cut my tracker out in Benton,” you explain, pulling your sleeve up and exposing the scar.

He reaches forward and gently runs his fingers up the scar. “Tracker?”

“Right. Bruce told me he sedated you when he gave you yours, something about you being too excited about being in the bat cave.”

“He put a tracker in me?”

“He put trackers in all of us.”

The phone rings twice before silencing. “That’s our cue to leave,” you say.

Columbus, Ohio – 1 Week Later

“How’s your arm?” you ask as you enter the room.

“Healing quickly,” Dick answers, smiling as he looks up at you from the hotel bed.

“Looks good,” you say, gently holding his arm, “yours probably won’t scar.”

“Pizza’s here,” Rachel calls as someone knocks on the door.

Dick answers the door and gets the pizza while you and Rachel get drinks from the mini-fridge. You all sit on the small couch as you eat, and you can’t help but think of old times. The following morning, you, Dick, and Rachel load into Dick’s car and drive toward Covington.

“Are you going to tell him?” Rachel asks as we wait in the car while Dick goes into a police station.

“Tell him what?’

“That you still love him.”

“I-“

“I can feel it. I could feel it when he was Robin and when you found out he left, in the safe house, and right now.”

“I don’t know, Rach.”

Dick sighs as he gets back in the car. “I got the description of the woman who broke into the crime scene.”

“Where to now?” you ask.

“Arcade. 5 miles north,” Rachel answers.

You laugh lightly as you shrug at Dick.

“An hour,” Dick says as he puts the car in gear.

“And a half,” you and Rachel correct together.

You give her some cash before you and Dick find a seat where you can see the entire arcade.

“You’re good with her,” you say as you steal a fry from his plate.

He playfully swats your hand away before moving his plate closer. “So are you,” he agrees.

You watch Rachel for a moment before looking down at your sweatshirt sleeve.

“Are you okay?” Dick asks, his hand landing on your arm.

“Yeah,” you say with a nod, still looking down. “This sweatshirt is the only connection I’ve had to you for the last four years.”

“What?”

You extend your arm toward him, watching his face as he grabs your wrist and looks at the sleeve, his initials and a small Robin messily embroidered on it.

“You kept it?” he asks.

“Of course, I did.”

“Mine’s in the trunk of my car,” he admits, smiling as he looks back up at you.

“Really?”

“You think that I’d leave it after all the hard work we put into them? I couldn’t leave it behind; it felt like leaving you behind. I tried to call you.”

“I left my phone; didn’t want Bruce to come after me.”

“Why does Rachel keep telling you to talk to me?”

You laugh before answering, “There’s something I haven’t told you and she wants me to.”

“What?”

“That I’m in love with you,” you whisper, looking into his eyes.

Dick is silent as he stares at you, his hand still wrapped around your wrist.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said any-“

Dick pulls your wrist gently, slamming his lips to yours. His other hand raises and wraps around the base of your neck, pulling you closer. You move your hands to his waist, pulling yourself closer to him as you kiss him like he’s your source of life.

“I take it you told him,” Rachel says, suddenly standing on the other side of the table.

Dick pulls back, smiling at you before saying, “Shut up, Rachel.”

“I’m out of money.”

Dick pulls a fifty from his wallet, handing it to her and smiling in gratitude as she walks away. She nods and returns the smile.

“I love you,” Dick says.

“I love you,” you respond, stealing another one of his fries.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. I wanted to find you but had no idea where to look.”

“Rachel was right. We could be partners. Again.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Grayson,” you smile before kissing him again.

“You didn’t read the letter did you?”

“I couldn’t,” you admit, shaking your head, “hurt too much. Why?”

“I wrote it to tell you I loved you. I wanted to take you with me but was scared.”

“I guess I should read it then, because I love you, too, Dickie.”

You and Dick watch as Rachel walks toward you, a tall woman with bright Magenta hair on one side and a green-haired boy on her other side.

When they reach the table, Rachel says, “This is Kory and Gar. They have some interesting stories.”

“This feels familiar,” you mutter to Dick as you stand up.

“I’m gonna need a bigger car,” Dick says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson fic #titans!dick grayson #dc titans #fem!reader

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onceuponastory · 3 months

Text

betrayal - nick fowler x reader

"Girls will go to hell and back For boys who taste like heaven." - teenage sacrifice by creeper

Plot: Nick Fowler is gone, killed on a mission a year ago. And his partner and girlfriend Y/N made her peace with that. ...Until she suddenly finds out on a mission that he's very much alive. Pairing: Nick Fowler x Female!Reader Warnings: Death/murder (Nick faked his though), kidnapping, death threats, betrayal, lies and manipulation, grief (and reader shutting herself away due to her grief), heartbreak and angst, light violence. And especially: Nick Fowler being a complete asshole (but one you still can't help but love, because...look at him). But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: I have not written for Nick Fowler in a LONG time, but like I said, a few weeks ago I had a ton of Nick edits show up on my tiktok fyp, and @holacia3 sent me a gif of Nick, so I had a few ideas floating around. But as soon as I heard this song and that line in particular, I knew it would be the perfect fit.

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

It was a bad idea. She knew it was. She should have stayed with the rest of her team, and not gone off alone. After all, it’s what got Nick killed. As soon as the memory of Nick enters her mind, her body and heart ache, and she has to fight the urge to cry or scream.

“No. Not here. Make them pay first.” That’s why she got separated from her team. The criminals they’re tracking are the very same who took her partner from her. And she just had to be the hero and go after them, trying to seek justice for Nick. That was the plan, until she ended up getting lost. And now, she’s in a completely radio silent part of the building with a malfunctioning earpiece. “Ugh.” She hisses, leaning up against the wall and trying to get her bearings. If Nick was here, he’d be laughing at her. Sure, he’d tear down every wall in this place to try and find her… but he’d be sure to laugh too. “I miss you, you asshole.” She whimpers as a few tears break free, rolling down her cheeks.

When Nick died, Y/N shut herself away for months, refusing to speak to anyone. Honestly, she lost a part of herself that day. Not just because she and Nick were dating. Well, he said they were. She was the one who refused to confirm it, not wanting to put labels on things because she knew what a job like this does to people in relationships. And the last thing she wanted was to lose what she had with Nick.

But she loved him so much, and though she never admitted it, she was coming round to the idea of officially being his girlfriend. Actually, she was going to tell him that after their mission… the same one he never came back from. When she finally went back to work, she was relegated to desk work, deemed too vulnerable to be out in the field after what happened.

Despite how much she protested, hating the idea of being wrapped up in cotton wool for the rest of her career, refusing to be forever known as ‘the agent whose boyfriend died in the field’... she was secretly appreciative of the coddling. It was a much better option than being sent out and constantly remembering what was lost. The moments with Nick she’d never get back.

And then, this case came along, bringing her the one thing she wanted right on a silver platter. A chance to stop the very criminals who killed Nick. A chance for revenge, to finally put an end to this reign of terror. To make them feel the same pain she did. And she said - no, she fucking insisted - that she would be okay, and not do anything stupid. Yet here she is, proving them all right. Y/N sniffles, ready to try and find her way back to the rest of her team.

But then, it happens. Something grabs her, and she screams, trying to kick her assailant, desperately fighting for her survival. Yet, the more she fights, the tighter he holds her. She’s dragged into a room, and turns around, immediately preparing herself to continue her fight.

That is, however, until she finds herself staring into a pair of blue eyes she recognises immediately. The same pair of eyes that have been haunting her nightmares for the last year.

And everything just…stops.

“Hey there.” Nick chuckles.

Nick Fowler, her partner and the love of her life.

Nick Fowler, who’s supposed to be dead.

And yet, here he is, standing right in front of her, looking perfectly fine. Her entire body stiffens, freezing her in place.

“No.” She gasps. “No…N-No, you’re dead.” Nick simply laughs again, grinning like he hasn’t just ripped her entire world apart. As if the months she spent crying over him, mourning his loss, feeling empty and numb meant nothing to him. She lifts her hand, placing it on his neck. The rhythmic thudding of his heartbeat tells her Nick’s very much alive. His skin tingles under her touch, and her breath hitches. Maybe things will be okay?

“Sorry. You know how it is in this life.” Nick simply shrugs. She blinks, waiting for him to continue, to explain that even though it’s part of their job, there are some things he can tell her. That he trusts her enough to tell her something, anything. That there’s a reason he had to fake his death and hide it from her. One that she’ll understand if he just fucking tells her.

Because she’d help him, whatever it is. He knows that. She trusts Nick Fowler with her life, and as far as she knew, he felt the same about her. But his silent stare causes a thought to dawn. And it feels like an icy jolt through her body. Since he clearly had no problem lying to her… did he ever care about her feelings? Or feel the same about her? Even in the wee hours of the morning, when Nick held her and kissed every inch of her body and told her she was his girl, the most important person in his life…. was he just pretending?

“No.” She thinks. “Nick loves you. He’s the one who called you his girlfriend.” But just as soon as that hope flourishes, another thought comes, destroying it. “So why has he been lying to you for so long?” The icy realisation quickly gives way to a new emotion. A deep, passionate anger. It engulfs her, boiling her blood and making her voice like venom. “I am…was your partner, you fucking asshole!” She snaps, shoving Nick back away from her. “You didn’t think to tell me you were going to fake your death? We promised each other that we would tell each other everything, no matter what!” Nick simply smirks. “You promised!” She repeats, imploring him for an explanation.

But she can see it in his eyes.

He doesn’t care.

And despite everything Nick has done to her by this point, all the deception… that is what hurts most of all. She shared so many intimate moments with him, gave him so much of herself, and he just threw it back in her face. Like it’s nothing more than a game to him.

“Don’t be like that.” Nick tuts, tilting his head to get a better look at her. As if he wants to see every part of the pain he’s causing her, like some sick perversion. “I had to do it. Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

“If it was me, I would’ve told you. I trusted you!” Her voice cracks, and she almost bursts into tears right there and then. But Nick simply scoffs, his disinterest sending another spike through her already broken heart.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Nick sighs once he notices the tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?” But she can’t even trust him now. She doesn’t even know who he is anymore. If the Nick she fell in love with even existed.

It’s only then, when she looks anywhere but at Nick, that she notices other men in the room, watching them. Men she knows all too well. They’re the enemy, the very people they’re trying to stop, the ones who took Nick away from her. So what is he doing with them? “Nick, if you’re under duress or in trouble, I can help you. Just let me…” Because that would make sense. That would explain why he faked his death and abandoned her. Because he’s in danger too. Her hope builds. "Please god, just let me save him."

“Hey, hey, shhh.” Nick soothes, gently taking her hands. “It’s okay Y/N. There’s no need for that. They’re with me.” He chuckles, cupping her cheek. She tries to flinch away, but he keeps a hold on her. And for just a moment, it’s like how things used to be. Her stomach flutters, and she’s reminded of when Nick kissed her for the last time. Little did she know it was a kiss goodbye. But then, she realises what he’s telling her. And her last smidgen of hope is destroyed.

“You’re… working with them?” She gasps, eyes wide. But that means. Oh god. Her stomach drops, and her chest heaves. Has he been working with the enemy this whole time? Did he ever care about her? Or was she just a stepping stone for his career, a pawn in his plan?

“Now do you see why I couldn’t tell you?” Nick smirks, still laughing like it’s all a big joke. Like he hasn’t just ripped her apart.

“How could you?” She whimpers. “Y-You used me, and you lied to me. And now you’ve brought me here to kill me.”

Every memory of the moments they shared flashes through her mind. But now, she sees them differently. Nick’s seen her at her most vulnerable, with her feelings and insecurities laid out in the open. He comforted her as she cried, worrying that they’ll never catch these criminals before they hurt someone else.

And he was working with them the whole time. He was probably laughing as he held her, enjoying the manipulation he was causing.

He never loved her. He just used her love to his advantage.

“Nobody said anything about dying.” Nick chuckles. “Yet.”

“What do you want with me?”

“Just a proposition. Nothing too bad.” He smiles.

“Given what you’ve already told me tonight, forgive me for not believing you.”

“Told you she was stubborn.” Nick smirks to the men in the room. Y/N’s stomach churns. She can’t bear to think about the other things Nick’s been saying about her. She looks around, searching for an escape route. But every exit is blocked. She’s trapped. “Why don’t you join us?” Nick continues. “I told my boss how talented you are, and we both agree that you’d be a perfect fit in our…organisation.” He grins. “You can finally be a free agent, do what you want instead of having people order you around. And….” His voice lowers, and he looks over her body. She hates how her body still betrays her when he does that, how her heart pounds, her breath catches in her throat and she instinctively steps closer to him. Nick grins, knowing he’s got her. “You’ll see a lot more of me. Win-win, really.”

“And what about the innocent people who’ll die?” She asks, her brow raised. Nick simply shrugs.

“Part of the job. You know it is.” He chuckles. “So, what’s it going to be? Come on, Y/N. Come with me.” Nick whispers, smiling at her. The same smile he had whenever they woke up beside one another, their bodies entangled. When she thought he truly loved her.

He was just gathering intel.

“No.” She speaks. At first, Nick frowns, almost wondering if he misheard her. “I’m not being a part of this.” But then when her words sink in, his gaze hardens.

“Oh. I see.” He sighs. “Must you always be the hero, Y/N? It’s such a weakness.”

“It’s what I chose to do. To stop people like you.” She hisses.

When she tries to push past him, he grabs her arm, pushing her back against the wall, blocking her path with his body. “Did I say you could leave?” He asks, his voice more forceful. She’s never heard him be so angry, so demanding.

Or maybe he was just a master of hiding it.

“Nick, let me go.” She orders. He ignores her, tightening his grasp.

“What am I going to do with you, Y/N? Hm? I can’t let you go running off to your friends, spilling my secrets, can I?” When no word comes from Y/N, Nick raises a brow. “Cat got your tongue? That’s weird, because you had no issues talking earlier.” Y/N starts to notice the men around them reaching for their weapons, and her heart stops. Suddenly, it all becomes real.

She’s going to die.

She’s going to die at the hands of the person she loves… loved.

“Please don’t hurt me.” She murmurs pathetically. Nick chuckles.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Yet, his grip tightens ever so slightly on her arm. “I might just keep you.” She raises her free fist, attempting to strike him. But Nick is just too quick, grabbing her wrist and twisting it back. She cries out in pain, trying to kick him, but Nick dodges the hit. “Mmm. Touchy, aren’t we?” He smirks. Y/N tries to remain calm, to show him she’s not affected by his betrayal. But her body betrays her once again, and she starts crying.

“Go fuck yourself.” She hisses through her tears. Nick rolls his eyes, tutting.

“I need to go. Got to explain to my boss that our new asset might take more convincing than we thought.” He turns to the men in the room. “Be careful.” He warns, giving her one last wink. “She’s trouble.”

And then, he's gone.

And Y/N is all alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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#nick fowler x reader #nick fowler x you #nick fowler x y/n #nick fowler x female reader #nick fowler fanfiction #nick fowler #nick x y/n #nick x reader #the 355 #the 355 fanfiction #the 355 fanfic #nick fowler fic

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zepskies · 5 months

Text

Miss Professor

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader

(Love triangle: Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

AN: Here’s the sequel to “Assistant Hottie.” Hope you enjoy!

Song Inspo: “Look at You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 5,200 Tags/Warnings: Angst, love triangle, hurt/comfort, fluff and a tinge of spice.~

Jason finds you in the bowels of the university library.

Out of four giant floors of books and computer labs at Central Kansas A&M (CKM), they just had to put the Writing Center in the non-proverbial basement. There you have to wear at least two layers at all times, despite the late-spring swelter outside.

Like now, when he enters the Writing Center lobby and finds you at your desk, tapping your red pen on your lip as you work on revising an essay. Jason smiles at the sight of your fuzzy red and green sweater over your jeans and ankle boots.

“You know, Christmas came and went, like, five months ago,” he teases.

You glance up at him as he steals a chair from your coworker’s desk. She’s conveniently been on break…for two hours now. Leaving you with a mildly enormous stack of essays to edit and leave feedback on.

“Yeah well, I’m running out of winterwear. It’s almost summer, for God’s sake,” you grouse. And yet, you shiver when another pass of the AC vent above your head hits your back.

Jason smiles, but he also shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your frame. It’s lighter than what you’re wearing, but he hopes the added layer helps. You can’t help smiling up at him, though your brows end up furrowing.

“Oh, don’t do that, you’re gonna be freezing,” you protest. You try to take off the jacket, but Jason stops you by wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I don’t plan on being here that long,” he replies.

You raise a brow. “Oh really?”

Jason grins. “You’ve got my British Lit. paper, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, with a light grumble. “Some friendship this is. You only come to see me when you want something.”

Jason mock frowns at that accusation, but he plies you with raised brows and waggling “gimme” fingers until you relent. You reach back into your files with a sigh and hand him his ten-page essay, complete with your revisions and suggestions for the final draft.

“Here you go, freeloader,” you quip.

“Many thanks, Miss Professor,” Jason rejoins.

The nickname always manages to make your face warm a bit, no matter how you try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It doesn’t help when he smiles at you like that.

His glinting green eyes soon dim, however, as he takes in the sheer amount of red marking up the pages of his essay. All 10 pages.

“Damn, woman. Was it that bad?” he asks.

“You’re actually getting better,” you say with a smile. “I’m seeing signs of improvement.”

Jason continues to flip through with a frown. “Right.”

Though when he actually starts reading your revisions, the familiar slopes of your handwriting, his disappointment begins to relent. You’ve made corrections here and there, but you’ve also written a lot of encouragements in the margins, like, “Good use of the word ‘solidarity.’”

And, “This whole paragraph perfectly explains your point. Just add a transition into the next section and you’re golden.”

Not to mention his personal favorite: correcting his typo on eggzagerate, and drawing a doodle of a fried egg above it. He doesn’t think you do that for all your customers.

It makes him smile.

Though he looks up when he hears you yawn. You try to stifle it, but he can see clearly now that you’re tired. It’s almost 9 p.m.

“How long have you been working?” he asks.

“Since I got out of my last class at 5,” you admit. Finally, you spot your coworker coming back from her break (and she’s still on the phone, chatting away to her boyfriend).

“Have you even eaten dinner?” Jason asks.

You shake your head, with a pointed glare at your coworker. “No time. I’ve been chained to this place all night.”

The girl gives you a fake smile when she returns to her desk and grabs one of the thinnest essays from the pile. After shooting her one last narrowed look, you give Jason your full attention. He’s trying to temper his smirk.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm. “Let me treat you to the Central Kansas delicacy of Chicken Finger Friday.”

You laugh at that; the university food court leaves much to be desired. You still have plenty of work to do, but you’re willing to push it off until tomorrow and take him up on his offer, if it means a hot meal and spending some time with your friend. It’s been a few weeks since it’s been just the two of you, hanging out.

After grabbing your backpack and clocking out for the night, you and Jason walk together across campus. The evening air is warm. It begins to defrost you as you two venture down the sidewalk. You smile to yourself and playfully bump into his side.

Jason shoots you a grin and bumps you back, though he grabs your arm when the heel of your boot catches on the edge of the sidewalk. You both fumble a bit and laugh.

You tuck a wily strand of hair behind your ear. Part of you wants to ask what he’s doing this weekend. Maybe he’d want to go to the lake with you, hang out on the dock, or go for a swim…

But of course, that’s when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket and his brows raise. The text is from Lana, asking him if he can come to the Talon.

I really need your help with something.

Jason lets out a breath and looks up at you apologetically.

You know that look.

“Your girlfriend?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Jason nods. “I hate to do this to you, but we’ve both been so busy, I haven’t seen her all week.”

And this is the first time this week that Lana has reached out to him first, wanting to see him… Well, she’s also asking for a favor, but she wants to see him.

“You know, one of these days I’d love to meet this mysterious girl,” you remark, lightly shoving his arm.

Jason smiles, but inside he’s clamming up. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t told you that he’s dating Lana Lang. Though it doesn’t make it easy to keep it from you, to lie to you. Over the course of the school year, you’ve become one of his closest friends here in Smallville.

You encourage him to explore his interests and keep focused in school, and you’ve often been a listening ear whenever juggling his classes and helping to coach the Smallville High football team stress him out.

And he’s done the same for you. With your time split between being a teacher's aid at Smallville High and working in the Writing Center to make ends meet between classes, you've done your share of venting, sometimes through frustrated tears. Jason's been more than willing to provide a strong shoulder to lean on.

Now, you don’t know that dating Lana is part of his stress, but he just…can’t afford to tell you.

It doesn’t matter that Lana’s 18, and he met her months before he took this coaching job. This is a small town, and he knows how people will talk if word gets out that he’s dating a high school senior. Not to mention, he’d get very fired.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you. “This seems important.”

Again, you have to hide your disappointment when you smile at him. “It’s okay. I should probably get back to work anyway—”

“Uh-uh. No,” Jason says, grabbing your arm when you start to turn in the direction of the Writing Center. "You’re done for the night. I wanna see you marching full-speed for those dry-ass chicken tenders.”

He nods toward the campus food court, making you expel a sigh.

“If I must,” you lament.

“And you’d better not keep working on your laptop,” he warns. “If you so much as crack open that Mac, I’ll know.”

He levels a finger at you as he walks away. You roll your eyes and head to the food court, with the promise of food just beyond the glass doors.

After a moment, you chance looking back at Jason. He catches your gaze, and he points two fingers from his eyes to your face in stern warning.

You giggle and shake your head at him, but you keep walking toward the food court.

Jason smirks in satisfaction. He continues on to the parking lot, and to his car.

When Jason gets to the Talon, he crosses paths with Clark, who’s just walking out.

“Hey, man,” Jason greets, with a jovial pat on the younger man’s shoulder. Though he can’t help but wonder why the guy is here at this time of night. “Little late for a coffee fix, huh?”

“Hey, Coach T,” Clark smiles. “Could say the same about you.”

Jason blinks at that. He cards a hand through his short hair and laughs it off. “Yeah, I was in the mood for a slice of your mom’s coffee cake. Any left?”

Martha Kent supplied the Talon with its baked goods, and they were most certainly worth driving across town for. It’s a pretty good excuse, if he says so himself.

Clark nods. “Yeah, should be.”

“All right. G'night,” Jason says. Clark nods and waves goodbye before he heads to his red truck in the parking lot.

Jason shakes his head and steps into the coffee shop, where he finds Lana alone. She’s cleaning up a large takeout bag from Gino’s, the Italian restaurant across the street. He silently takes note of it, but doesn’t yet comment when he kisses his girlfriend in greeting.

“Why’d you send up the Bat Signal on this fine Friday night?” he asks, wrapping her in his arms.

Lana smiles up at him. “Well, I’m probably going to be slammed all weekend with the shop, but I’ve got this huge speech for class on Monday and was hoping you’d help me practice.”

She pulls those doe-like hazel eyes on him, and Jason’s almost captured by them. This time, he lets out a small sigh.

“You know I’m always down to help you out. Always. But you know, we haven’t just hung out in a while now,” he points out.

Lana concedes to that with an incline of her head, but she still eases out of his arms to finish cleaning up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy,” she says.

“I have too,” Jason replies. “But even with my crazy schedule, going back and forth from campus, don't I still make time for you?”

Case in point, he was willing to come out to her on the drop of a hat, late at night, and on the crunch week before his final exams. But he would be hard-pressed to remember a time when Lana went out of her way to see him.

Lana pauses, casting him a frown. "I'm trying my best, Jason. You know I'm graduating in a few weeks. Everything's ramped up to 11 this year."

Yeah, I know the feeling, Jason thinks, but after a moment, he caves with a nod, even though his gaze lingers on the Gino's bag.

“Have you eaten?” he tests. “Let me get us some takeout.”

He almost said, Let me take you out, somewhere nice. But he hadn’t been able to do that since before he got to Smallville. He’s beginning to wonder if he ever will again.

“Oh,” Lana says. Her eyes avert from his as she wipes down a table. “I already ate.”

Jason draws closer to her and dips his chin in order to catch her gaze. Eventually, she pauses and glances up at him.

“With Clark?” he asks.

Lana tightens up, just as he predicted. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him when I came in,” Jason replies. He tilts his head at Lana, who never used to be a good liar. But ever since they had to start hiding their relationship, he’s noticed how good she also hides her thoughts and feelings around other people…maybe even to herself.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “He was here. But we were studying for finals, and we got hungry. That’s it.”

Jason shakes his head, but she grabs his hand with both of hers. He looks down at her tan, slender hands, and can’t help but be drawn back to her beautiful face.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as if that can dismiss the churning in his gut.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing at his face. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I’m sorry but…do you still have feelings for him?”

“No,” she refutes, “I’m with you, Jason. How many times do I have to prove that this is what I want?”

She seems so annoyed and vehement that Jason has to believe her. He wants to, so badly.

Maybe too much.

The last straw comes just two weeks before the end of spring semester—with the coming of senior prom. Jason knows he can’t ask Lana, but she assured him that she wasn’t going.

He has a late class that night, but afterwards, he promised to pick her up and get dinner together in Metropolis. A nice date, a long-ass way out of town, so they’re unlikely to be recognized.

On the Friday evening, just hours before a high school dance, you and Jason sit together in the one class you have together: Introduction to Mass Media.

It only meets once a week, for three hours. Technically it’s an elective for both of you, but you’d told Jason to pick any class outside of his major that he was interested in. Anything to broaden his horizons, and you promised to join him. For some reason, he chose this one.

He thought it would be easy. Just a study of pop. culture stuff, with a mix of social media, maybe a dash of sports, if he was lucky. He’d actually been surprised with how much he was enjoying the segments on videography and broadcast journalism.

Right now, however, he's distracted. You can certainly tell, the way he keeps checking his phone.

“What’s wrong?” you lean over and ask in a whisper. He knows how anal Professor Jones is about cell phones in class. The man had a “contraband bucket” to collect them in, if he caught a student using one.

“Just letting my girlfriend know I’m gonna be a bit late,” Jason grumbles, though he’s looking at the screen. “Jones is droning on past the eternity mark, as usual.”

A man clears his throat above you and Jason. You both look up and meet the flat gaze of Professor Jones. He shakes the bucket in his hand with an arched brow. Already there's about three contraband phones inside.

Jason gives a wan smile. “Come on, Professor. We were supposed to be outta here 20 minutes ago anyway.”

The lines in Professor Jones’s face betrays one simple truth: he doesn’t give a shit.

“Bucket, Mr. Teague,” he says.

Jason’s lips press in irritation, but he’s forced to drop his phone into the waiting bucket. He doesn’t see two mixed text messages from his girlfriend.

You lay a comforting hand on Jason’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

By the time Jason gets to the Talon, the lights are dark and Lana’s not home. Suspicion creeps in, making him feel a little crazy.

He decides to get back into his car and drive down to Smallville High. There the gym is decked out to the nines in some kind of underwater theme. It reminds him of his own senior prom a couple of years ago, complete with the punch bowl and cheesy snacks.

But soon enough, the nostalgia comes to a screeching halt.

A familiar ballad croons from the band on the stage.

"And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? ...Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

He sees Lana on the dance floor, wearing one of the most beautiful dresses he’s ever seen. And she’s in the arms of one Clark Kent.

Jason's never hated Lifehouse so much.

On Saturday morning, before the Talon even opens, Lana opens the door to Jason while still wearing her robe.

“Hey!” she says, with wide eyes, though she lets him in.

“You seem real surprised,” Jason notes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s early for you on a Saturday,” Lana remarks with a short laugh. But she still leans up to kiss him. She only manages to get his cheek, since he doesn’t bend down to meet her like he usually would.

She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first. The words are stuck in his throat. He gestures for them to move away from the glass doors, where anyone can peek in. So they travel up to her bedroom and close the door.

It’s not the first time he’s been in her room, though not much has ever happened on her bed. He’s waited completely on her signals for that one. Though now, he’s actually kind of grateful that their relationship has never progressed that far. It makes what he’s about to do easier.

“Where were you last night?” he asks. He figures they’d better start there.

“I tried calling you,” he adds, when Lana doesn’t immediately offer a reply.

“Well, I didn’t hear from you. I figured you were busy with your classes, so…I went to prom by myself,” she says.

Jason sighs. “You didn’t seem all that lonely.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Her confusion looks so real. A perfect face, and a damn near perfect lie.

“Look, I saw you and Clark on that dance floor,” Jason finally says. “Wasn't that just the perfect Hallmark moment?”

“Jason…” Lana finally starts to break. She doesn’t want to admit what’s broken, her gaze falling to the floor.

“No, let me say this,” he says. “Lana, I really put my all into this. I did whatever I could to be with you. To love you, to protect you. But in your heart, I think somewhere down the line you decided you don’t want that to be me.”

Lana’s eyes flood with tears, but she doesn’t deny it.

“I think it’s time to really call it quits this time,” Jason says, “for both our sakes.”

He can’t help but reach out to her. His thumb brushes her cheek. Lana’s watery gaze meets his as her lower lip wobbles. She grabs his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she confesses.

He won’t say it’s okay, but he accepts that with a nod, and he kisses her cheek.

It’s a goodbye that’s meant to last.

Once he’s back in the relative safety of his car, Jason lets out a deep breath. He grabs his phone from his pocket on some unspoken urge; in that moment, he needs something. Someone.

He needs you.

You answer on the third ring, sounding sleepy on your day off.

“You’d better be on fire,” you say. Jason smiles at the sound of your grumpy voice.

“Hey,” he laughs a little, though he's surprised that it comes so easily. “You doing anything right now?”

“Besides sleeping?” you toss back. “…No. Not really. My life is boring.”

“Boring sounds nice right about now,” Jason says, more seriously than he meant to. “Wanna take a drive or something?”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then your voice greets him again.

“Let’s go.”

When Jason arrives at your house, you come out to meet him. He gets out of his car, and already he looks wrong. He looks drained of all energy.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern, grabbing his arm when you’re close enough. His eyes find yours.

“We broke up,” he says.

It takes your brain a second or two to compute. (You’ve just finished your first cup of coffee, after all.) But then, you’re moving to wrap your arms around his neck in the tightest, warmest hug you can give.

He holds you back for a while, and you relish in the feeling of his hands smoothing around your back and pulling you in close. His chin tucks on your shoulder, and you rub his back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He hums in response. Sometimes, what is just is.

He lets you drive him out to the lake near your house, in your beat up Volvo. This lake is your favorite place in the world, you tell him, as you two sit side-by-side on the dock. Your sneaker-clad feet dangle over the edge, next to his longer legs.

“So far,” he corrects. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

You smile. “Yeah, you gonna show me? Got a magic carpet tucked in your dorm somewhere?”

Jason laughs, and you’re grateful to see his smile so soon.

“Yeah, along with a dusty-ass lamp,” he says.

You smile, but you tilt your head at him. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s grin slips a little. “Yeah, I think so…is that bad?”

You bite your lip. “Depends. What was her name? I don’t think you even told me.”

Jason turns to you, and he sighs deeply. It takes him a moment, but he eventually answers while looking you in the eyes.

“Lana Lang,” he says.

The name rings a bell…and as it comes to you, it blares like a foghorn. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in shock.

“J-Jason…she’s a student,” you stammer. “Not like, us students. Like—”

“I know. We met before I got the coaching job,” Jason explains quickly, before you can blow up at him.

He can see you’re freaking out, trying to contain your reaction with a hand over your mouth. But the more he explains, the more you withdraw into a simmering silence. He can tell, however, that you don’t know how to feel about it.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

It’s not the first thing he thought you would say, but it’s very you all the same.

“Well, being outmaneuvered by my own quarterback stings like a bitch, but I still think I’m better looking,” Jason jokes. Because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable.

Too bad that was the wrong answer.

You roll your eyes with a disgusted huff, and you pull yourself up onto your feet. You start to leave him there at the dock, but Jason hops up as well and grabs your hand.

“Hey, wait,” he implores. “Look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just…easier.”

“Why, because you didn’t trust me?” you challenge. “Or because you felt guilty about what you were doing?”

The truth is, Jason doesn’t feel guilty. Not for his relationship.

“I was trying to protect her reputation,” he says. “I know how smalltown people think. She’d be the talk of the damn town. And for what? Because we’re two years apart?”

“And I’m smalltown, is that it? I’m sorry I’m not as evolved as you, Mr. Metropolis,” you snark. “Forgive me for being a lowly country bumpkin with some morals.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jason says with an angry frown, throwing up his hands in frustration.

You shake your head at him and start booking it towards your car.

Jason follows. “You know you can’t leave me out here, right?”

“Just get in the car, before I change my mind!”

He obliges you, and it’s a painful ride back to your house. He really can’t believe you’re being like this. It’s the first real argument he’s ever had with you. He knew you might get upset, but he did think you’d be a little more understanding…

“Look, we met in Paris last summer,” he admits. And a hint more vulnerable, “I just…couldn’t help but fall for her.”

“I get it, Jason,” you reply. Your voice is flat.

“Just please don’t tell anyone,” he asks. “We’re done. She’s about to graduate.”

As mad as you are at him for lying to you, you begrudgingly see his point. You can also start to understand why he didn’t tell you.

But, regardless of how you feel, you don’t want him to lose his job. You know it’s the only way he can afford college.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, before you can reign yourself in.

Jason turns to you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

It’s still awkward when you two get to your house. He turns to you, like he wants to say something that’ll most likely soften you.

You’re not ready for that.

So you kill the engine and get out of the car without looking at him. Jason takes the hint; he doesn’t say another word to you when he gets into his car and peels away.

The next weeks that follow are hard for Jason. As a member of the staff, he’s forced to go to Smallville High’s graduating ceremony.

He watches Clark and Lana graduate together with the rest of their friends. The two of them hug after she gets off stage, looking at one another with a moment of blushing smiles. It’s an inevitable look.

It makes Jason feel sick. He leaves as soon as he can, going back to languish in his dorm room. He lays on his bed over the covers with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed.

He thinks about you.

He can see you in his mind’s eye, with a pen balanced between your teeth and your hair falling over to brush the pages you pour over.

He sees your fuzzy green sweater. Your smile. The shade of your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your furrowed look when you’re concentrating hard on revising a sentence.

The more he sees, the more he wants to call you. To hear your voice, even if you're just going to yell at him.

Jason sighs. He sits up in bed and has a thought that soon takes hold of his body, and has him swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and pulling his backpack closer.

He pulls out a folder for one of his classes and finds an essay you revised. His eyes scan over the encouragements you’ve left in the margins, along with the stray doodles. They still make him smile.

And it reminds him of the first note you ever gave him, which he keeps tucked in a small drawer in his desk. He tosses the folder onto his bed and goes to that drawer, where he finds your hastily written haiku.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

You don’t know that those words have kept his head above water in times where he’s wanted to quit school.

Or even worse, in those times when he’s wanted to go to his father, tail between his legs, to ask for money and a job doing anything easy.

So now, Jason realizes that he needs to make another decision.

He gets out of bed, and he goes to see you.

Jason travels down to the basement of the CKM library, to the Writing Center, where you’re sitting at your desk as always on a Thursday night. You have a pile of essays stacked high next to you, and your forehead is wrinkled while you read a problematic passage.

The smell of coffee makes you look up first, before you realize who brought it. Your eyes widen at seeing Jason, along with his small smile and peace offering.

“Hey,” he says.

His voice washes over you, his eyes that always manage to disarm you, even now.

Despite your better judgment, you take the coffee from him and revel at its warmth. It has to be 60 degrees in this damn room (you’re one step shy of bringing your winter gloves next time).

You sip at the coffee and hum in delight at the taste of caramel and cinnamon—a combination that only your family, and Jason, would know you loved.

Your gaze flits up to his, more begrudging as you sigh.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?” you ask.

Jason grins and takes your coworker’s empty chair to sit across from you.

“I’ve got a little haiku for you,” he says, handing you a folded piece of paper. You eye him in confusion, but you set down the coffee on your desk and take his second offering. You unfold it and read something that genuinely takes you by surprise.

Hey, Miss Professor

I’ve got a question for you…

Want to get dinner?

You can’t help but laugh. It’s most definitely not a haiku, but you also know that it’s his best shot. His smile is sheepish, making yours deepen.

“So, what’s your answer?” he asks.

You glance down at the page, then back at him. You bite your lip, and your heart clenches. Is this it? you wonder. Is he asking you out, for real? You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking.

“What kind of dinner?” you ask.

Jason’s grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“Is this our normal kind, where we roll out like we’re Thelma and Louise?” you ask, making him snort. “Or is this the kind where I need to change out of my dirty sneakers and brush my hair?”

He shrugs; his amused grin is back. “I mean, however I get you is all right by me.”

You nearly utter another sigh, but Jason surprises you yet again—by grabbing your hand.

“But, uh…I’d like this to be the kind of dinner where we try something new,” he says, licking his dry lips. He looks a bit uncertain, you think, hiding the fear of rejection. “Maybe you’ll let me do my Cary Grant impression and get you some flowers. Box of chocolates.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Chocolates?”

“Whatever it takes,” he says. His tone is joking, but he seems serious. You know him well enough by now to spot the difference.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” you ask.

Jason’s hand tightens on yours, but his eyes never leave you. He really is serious, and it makes your heart stutter and trill with warmth. It feels a lot like hope.

He leans in, his head bowing towards yours…but you lay a hand against his chest.

It stops him, until your fingers curl into his shirt.

Your gaze slowly meets his.

When he reaches for your cheek, this time you let him pull you in.

His kiss is sudden, but it’s still a gentle test. You take in a deep breath through your nose as your eyes fall closed. You press your lips against his, answering him. His fingers slide into your hair and drag down the back of your neck. It makes you shudder and tug him even closer by his shirt.

Jason’s solution is gathering you into his lap, where you take his face with both hands and kiss him with unfettered passion. The locked doors of your heart are swinging open, and it’s a sweet relief to be honest with each swipe of your tongue against his.

He’s gripping your hip, his fingers pressing into your thigh, while the other hand supports your lower back and presses you flush against him. As the kiss slows, so does your hand in his hair, more soothing now than gripping.

When your lips eventually draw apart from his, it’s with panting breaths. You stare into his eyes, as yours brim with relieved tears. You touch his cheek.

“I better not be a rebound,” you warn him. “I can’t take that, Jase.”

Jason shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “No, believe me. That's the last thing you are."

You bite your lip, and he encourages you to release it with his thumb brushing across your lower lip. You've been on his mind longer than he can readily admit. Since the first day he met you.

"I know I haven't made it easy, but will you trust me on this?” he asks. "I really wanna do this right with you."

It takes you a moment to decide, but you do. You trust him.

So you nod and brush your fingers along the apple of his cheek.

“Okay,” you concede. "Let's do this."

Jason grins. “Oh, thank God.”

You giggle softly and hide your face in his neck. His chest shakes with a chuckle as he holds you back. It feels very right to hold you, he thinks.

Just as it's a relief for you to finally be in his arms.

“Where d’you wanna go for dinner?” he asks.

You laugh, a bit giddy as you cling to him and thread your fingers in his golden hair.

“I don’t give a damn.”

AN: Haha, I hope you liked this! ❤️ These one-shots are kind of AU, in that I don't get into the Stones of Power arc of S4 just for simplicity's sake.

I do have one more one-shot idea rolling around in my head for these two...the reader meeting Jason's infamous mother lol (Genevieve Teague, played by the fabulous Jane Seymour)!

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

Like A Movie

Summary: Reader is a struggling screenwriter but things start looking up when they get a surprise visitor who wants to buy their movie.

Jenna Ortega X Fem! Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: This takes place 10 years in the future. I’m suffering some serious writers block on my other fic and hopefully this helps. It feels weird to write about a real person, but it came so easily I couldn't waste it.

Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

You’re an up and coming screenwriter. You just retired after twenty years in the military, and now you’re living in a tiny apartment in LA. You figure you spent your youth doing a job you hated, sacrificing everything and for what? Now you’re going to live out your dream.

The truth is, you’d written page after page and screenplay on screenplay on screenplay and you had nothing to show for it. You sent them all out, hoping and praying for a bite. But now it’s been a year, you’re 38 and the only thing you have to show for your efforts is an apartment full of stacks of haphazardly bound paper and a serious caffeine and nicotine addiction.

Until now. You had written a full feature film, probably the 100th one you’d finished. You stuck it in a drawer months ago, but decided to pull it out and rewrite. You wrote until your fingers ached and your eyes burned. You edited until you felt as if you cut actual pieces of your soul out and threw them away. And finally, you had your final draft. When you printed and bound it, you didn’t think twice about it. You’d figured it would probably end up in the pile of your other stories, gathering dust and resentment.

Your sister came down from Northern California to visit you, and one day while you were out she’d picked up the script and read the entire 120 pages. She was beside herself. She hounded you until you gave in. The compromise was you’d only send it to A24, not even gathering the hope that anyone would read it. And you thought it had been dumped in the trash, until you got a phone call.

You were standing in your kitchen watching your espresso machine spit its sweet lifeblood into your oversized mug when your phone rang. You considered not answering. You hated talking on the phone, and it was an unknown number. But this is Hollywood, so you know you’re obligated to pick up in case it’s an agent.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Is this the author of Secessus?” A man’s voice comes through the phone.

“Uh, yes?”

“Are you currently at your apartment?”

You look around, confused. You walk to your kitchen window and look outside, but all you see is the bag lady rummaging through the dumpster.

“Yeah. This is creepy, I’m hanging up.”

Your last sentence fell on a dead line. The person on the other end had already hung up after you had confirmed you were home. You shake your head and pick up your mug, taking one last glance outside.

“Weird.” You say as you shuffle back to your desk. Your computer is open to a new script you’re working on, this one is a spec for tv. You figured you’d try your hand at a multi-episode plot and hope to get picked up for a writers room on another show. If you weren’t going to write something original, at least you’d still get to write something.

You’re about to start tapping away at your keyboard when there’s a soft knocking at your door. You glance at it, then at your phone. None of your friends ever came over unannounced. They knew you hated that. So who the fuck was this?

You get up, and tiptoe to the door. At least if you’re quiet you can look through the peephole and see who it is without alerting them to your presence. This way if it’s someone you don’t want to interact with, you can go back to your desk and pretend you aren’t home. You stand on your tiptoes and close one eye, pressing the other to the small glass window in the door.

All you can make out is a small figure, like really small. They’re wearing a bucket hat but you can see brown hair falling over their shoulders. The person is clearly nervous, and you can see them spinning the rings on their fingers. It’s a girl.

You lower yourself back down, frowning. It was a rare occasion you turned a girl away from your door, but you had no clue who this was. You get back on your tip toes again to get another look. She’s looking right at the peephole, and even waves at it. You can’t tell who it is because she’s wearing massive pittvipers under her hat, effectively covering her face.

You lower yourself again, more confused. You shrug to yourself and figure ‘what’s the worst that could happen? She tries to sell me a bible and I tell her I’m a big fat lesbian. Byeee.’ Before opening the door you look down at yourself. You’re bra-less and wearing a white ribbed tank top (formerly know as a wife beater but now affectionately dubbed a wife pleaser) and gray sweats. You are perfectly aware that you look like shit, but you don’t care. Maybe it’ll scare the girl away.

Another knock raps against your door, this time louder and more frantic.

“Hello? I know you’re in there can you please open up? I really need to talk to you.” The girl says from the other side.

She has a sweet voice, high in pitch but not piercingly so. You sigh in resignation and grab the doorknob. The damn thing wasn’t even locked. You swing the door open and blink at the sudden blast of sunlight in your face.

The girl is there, bouncing on her toes with anxiety. She looks up at you, and you think she looks shockingly familiar. You can’t quite place it though, not with the hat and the sunglasses. She’s wearing a baggy white shirt with a green hem and denim jeans. She’s casual but you can tell that it’s calculated. She’s trying to blend in.

“Uhm, can I help you?”

“Are you y/n?” She asks.

“Yes? Is this a joke? Did you have someone call me?” You’re slightly worried now, and still half blind from the sun shining in your eyes.

“Can I come inside?” She asks, glancing behind her nervously.

“Are you in trouble or something? Am I being roped into like some action movie scenario?”

She laughs, and you can’t help yourself but think it’s a pleasant sound. She still seems so familiar. Maybe if your damned eyes would adjust you could figure out who this woman is.

“I’m not in trouble, I just want to talk to you about your script. And I’m pretty sure there’s a paparazzi in your neighbors trash can.” She says, glancing across the parking lot.

You smile, “Oh no, that’s just Janice. She’s the bag lady.”

The girl looks at you like you’re crazy. At least you think she does, because you can’t see much of her face behind the giant reflective glasses she’s wearing. You find yourself feeling slightly indignant. Who is this girl to look at you crazy when she’s the stranger knocking on your door and asking to come inside?

“So?” She says, still looking up at you.

“Oh, uhm…” you hesitate. Your apartment is a disaster. There were scripts and coffee cups everywhere, and likely a pair of socks or two. “This is about Secessus?”

She nods, raising her eyebrows above her glasses. Is she getting impatient? The stones on this girl. You sigh and relent, stepping to the side and waving your hand inside to usher her in. She hurriedly slides past you, her converse squeaking on your wood floors. You shut the door and turn to her. She’s staring at your living room.

You grimace, “Oof, I wasn’t expecting company so…it’s a mess.”

She approaches a stack of scripts and runs her fingers along the cover page. When she speaks her voice is quiet, almost reverent. Like she’s speaking in a church.

“Are these all screenplays?”

“Yeah- wait, you haven’t even told me your name dude, and you’re in my house. How do you know about Secessus?”

She doesn’t turn around, instead thumbing through the script you know is called Green Ties. You wrote it two months ago and have yet to revise it.

“Because I read it.”

Realization dawns on you, “Oh you’re from A24?”

She hums, “You could say that. Sometimes.”

She takes her glasses off but she’s still turned away from you.

“Sometimes? Are you like an agent or something?” You ask as you move around her into your living room.

She looks up at you and you immediately know who she is. How it took you so long is still a mystery, but now that you can see her of course you know her. Brown eyes, a spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the most perfect cupids bow lip.

Jenna motherfucking Ortega.

“That’s me. Except it’s Marie, not motherfucking. Although that would be a pretty dope middle name.” She replies with a shrug.

You hadn’t even realized you said it out loud. Your mouth is hanging open and you’re eternally grateful you set your coffee down or it would be on the floor. Along with your pride. You glance down at yourself now painfully aware that you look like a bum who hadn’t showered in a week.

“Jenna Ortega. In my apartment. Read my script.” You think you may be going into shock. She does too.

“Do you want to sit down?” She’s worried, you can see it on her face.

You nod and gesture toward your dining room table. It’s the only surface that isn’t covered in your manuscripts. You grab your coffee from your desk and sit with it at the table, your hands shaking as Jenna sits down across from you. You set the cup down, mentally kicking yourself

“Would you uh-do you want an espresso?” You’re scrambling now, desperately trying to make this scenario less fucking weird.

She smiles at you and pulls the hat off her head, shaking her hair free. “I’d love one.”

You get up, far too quickly to be considered normal but you figure that ship has sailed now, and make her a cup. As you’re waiting for the machine you begin to gather your senses, willing yourself to be a normal human being for once in your life.

“So, uhm, I just want to apologize. If I had known,” you pause and lean into the counter, looking back at her. “I would have been more…presentable.”

She leans her elbow on your table and rests her head in her hand, still smiling at you. Why is she smiling at you?

“I prefer it this way. It feels more real.”

“Well it feels pretty fuckin unreal to me right now.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. You grimace at your words but she laughs again. Before you can say anything else the espresso machine chimes telling you Jenna’s coffee is ready. You turn and grab it, quickly setting it down in front of her.

You sit back in your chair, then stand back up when you realize, “Oh shoot do you want anything with it? I have sugar cubes and oat milk, if you’re into that.”

She shakes her head no and blows over the top of the mug, “This is great, thank you.”

You sit back down. You know you’re being a fool. You just can’t get your feet under you. She’s still smiling at you, her eyes shining. She looks exactly like her pictures, maybe even better in person. Her 20s have treated her well and she wears 30 like a goddess. You close your eyes in frustration, seriously what is wrong with you?! Get it together y/n. You take a deep breath and open your eyes again. She’s watching you closely, half hidden amusement on her face.

“So. You’re here about my movie?”

She nods, her face lighting up like she’s just remembered why she’s here too. “Yeah! A24 gave me the script last week and once I picked it up I couldn’t put it down. I’ve read it at least ten times now. I’ve even found myself rehearsing all the lines for all the characters, I’m obsessed.”

You’re dumbfounded. Jenna Ortega is sitting at your kitchen table and she’s obsessed with your script. You briefly wonder if you’ve ascended into an alternate universe.

She takes your silence as an invitation to go on. “So I wanted to come here and meet the person who wrote it. I want to make this movie. If you’ll let me.”

“You. You want to make my movie?”

She nods, sipping her coffee. “I’d like to be in it too, obviously. But A24 would produce it. It’d be my directorial debut. But like, if you’re not cool with that we can hire someone too.”

This whole morning must be a dream. You’re dreaming, you decide. And if this is a dream it doesn’t matter what you say.

“You’ve got to be shitting me right now.”

She laughs again, you feel proud. That’s three times in the span of ten minutes you’ve made Jenna Ortega laugh. But of course this is a dream. So you’re great.

“I’m not shitting you. What do you think?”

“I think I’m dreaming.” You say.

She laughs again. You’re crushing it.

“You’re not dreaming.” She reaches across the table and grabs your hand. You KNOW you’re dreaming now because Jenna Ortega is holding your hand. “See, I’m real. You’re real. And we’re going to make your movie.”

“Holy shit.”

“You haven’t said yes yet.”

You nearly fall out of your chair. “Yes! Yes a million times yes! You can act all the parts, direct it, produce it, burn it to the ground for all I care, are you kidding me?”

Her laughter is quickly becoming the soundtrack to your morning. “I don’t think I can act all the parts, and A24 is on board so we just need to cast the rest.”

You feel like a fish, your mouth is moving but absolutely nothing is coming out. She pulls her hand back and takes another drink of her coffee.

“I’m sure this is sort of overwhelming. But I want you on set with me. And I want you to help me with the cast. If you agree, the studio already has your contract drawn up. They’ll pay you for the script and we’ll start in two months.”

You take a sip of your coffee, then look deep into the cup. Did your sister slip shrooms in the espresso again? You look back to Jenna, she’s patiently waiting for you to answer her.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’m trying to get it together right now. But yes. To all of it. Yes.” You run your hands through your hair, a nervous habit.

Jenna grins at you over her mug. She has her fingers interlaced around it and she’s clinking one of her rings against the porcelain. If you didn’t know any better you’d say she was excited. Thrilled even.

“Great!” She says, “I’ll let them know.”

You nod. Thanking the universe she’s already read the script because she would probably think you were an idiot if she didn’t know that you could write. You could not pull it together. This morning was just so WEIRD.

“Do you usually make house calls to writers?” You ask her, attempting to compose yourself.

“No. This one is special. And now that I’ve met you, I know I made the right decision.” She downs the last of her coffee and stands.

You stand with her, and move around the table as she makes her way toward your door. You lean around her when she’s in the entry and open it, letting her out. As she’s about to step outside she turns to you.

“That coffee is incredible by the way. How do you feel about this time tomorrow?”

“How do I feel?”

She nods, pulling her hat and sunglasses back on. “Yeah. Do you mind if I come back by to go over the details? I’d stay longer today but I have to go to a casting call.”

“Uh, of course. I’ll have a cup waiting for you.”

You mentally pat yourself on the back. Good job y/n, so smooth, much rizz.

She grins even wider and turns on her heel, heading down the stairs, leaving you standing in the doorway, awestruck. You watch her as she gets into a town car waiting in the parking lot, and wait till it drives away before you close your door.

“What the fuck.” You say quietly, “wait what the fuck?!” You yell this time.

Excitement pumps through your veins and you can’t help yourself but to dance a little jig around the stacks in your living room. Your script is bought! You’re making a movie! Jenna Ortega is coming back to your apartment tomorrow!

You stop dancing, the realization spreading over you. Jenna is coming back over tomorrow. You look around. You have some work to do before she comes back. You pick up your phone and call your best friend, you’re going to need his help if you’re going to get this place cleaned up.

He picks up after two rings.

“Nando. You are not gonna believe the fucking morning I’ve had. How soon can you get here?”

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #Wednesday #vada cavell #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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dduane · 8 months

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Hello Lady Duane! 😊 (I feel that if we can call Neil Sir Gaiman, you certainly deserve a title as well!)

I've wanted to tell you for ages now that you are one of my absolute favourite Trek authors, have been since I first read some of your novels over a decade ago as a teen - my parents and I have about? 4 or 5 copies of The Doctor's Orders between us, German and English alike (my dad even bought a copy to keep at the office for reading during his lunch breaks). The Wounded Sky is another one of my favourite Trek novels ❤️

My sister and I also occasionally watch old Barbie movies for the nostalgia. So when we watched Fairytopia a few months ago, we found out that you had written the script for the movie! I literally let out a happy yell when I saw you show up in the opening credits and went "omg, it's Diane Duane!!" That was so unexpected but also very delightful! 😊

And now, thanks to you being on tumblr as well, I found out about your other novels and bought your ebook bundle the other day. :D I'm currently a bit over halfway through So You Want to Be a Wizard and I just wanted to let you know that I'm enjoying it so very much!! ❤️

Thank you for all the wonderful words over the years! It continues to be a joy! 😊💜

Hi there!

Regarding titles: Well, okay... as long as everybody's clear that as a US citizen, titles are usually off the menu for me. (As an Irish one, not so much—the government can approve the use of them if it likes—though the neighbors'd snicker at me down the pub.) Anyway: I accept gratefully.* Though yelling "Yo, Trekkie!" might well be just as effective. :)

I'm glad you've enjoyed my Trek work! It's always been very satisfying to do. The chance to actually write professionally in what was my main fandom (after Holmes) during my late teen years has been a most unexpected—when I got started—and extraordinary thing.

And as for Fairytopia: That was a lot of fun too, and also unexpected. My agent just called me up one morning and said "How are you about Barbie...?" and I said, "Well, okay I guess, I had the usual number of them!" —and we were off. The Mattel people were fabulous to work with, and I look back on that whole project with affection.

Meanwhile, I'm delighted you're having fun with the first of the Young Wizards books! There are plenty more of them in that package (still discounted) that conform to the new timeline, which now launches in 2008 rather than the mid 1980s. (Book 10 of the series didn't need that treatment, and so isn't available in a revised edition.)

Anyway: thanks for letting me know. It's always nice to find out that I'm getting the job done. :)

*But also: according to the usual protocols, Neil—when they finally get around to knighting him, probably when a more literature- and intelligence-friendly government takes over—will properly be "Sir Neil": as UK knighthood's an acknowledgement of the person, not the family, and knights are therefore addressed by their first names. (Not to fret: people from both sides of the Water sometimes get this detail backwards.)

(...Be fun if they stuck him straight into the Lords, though. Usually, if you don't want to use your last name in your lordship's title, you can select the name of someplace in the UK that has personal meaning for you. Seeing Neil ennobled as Lord Neverwhere would be a trip.) :)

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charlie-lec-stories · 6 months

Text

Dirty Little Secret - Part 1: Qatar // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character

Series Summary: Charles' wife went to The Other Side and came back, but her past did too.

Chapter Summary: Qatar's high temperatures prove to be deadly when a terrible crash happens on the track.

Series Warnings: Death, descriptions of CPR and a car crash, sexual comments and implied sexual acts, mentions of blood, mentions of suicide and depression.

Author’s Note: This is a special I decided to write inspired by Halloween and the Qatar GP, it's five parts long. It's the first time I write something for this page instead of editing thing I have written before, I hope you guys like it. Rate: +16 (descriptions of medical procedures).

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The first memory Charles had of his wife is from a rainy day twenty years ago. He was getting ready to jump into his kart when he saw her, red hair blowing in the air, a lilac helmet under her arm and a matching race suit, with her name, Y/N, embroidered in black cursive letters. She was the prettiest girl in the world, he was sure, so sure that he told his father that he was marrying that girl when he was older. But that pretty redhead was not seen again for many years. He kind of forgot about her and that smile that missed a few tooth, the memory of her appearing once in a while, triggered by the combination of red and lilac. They crossed paths again when they were fifteen but the relationship they developed was anything but amicable. Charles spotted her instantly, her hair exactly the same as he remembered it, but what he also noticed was that she was hanging from Max Verstappen's arm. They were laughing and talking excitedly as Max explained something to her. He could feel his blood boiling inside his veins, now that he finally saw her again she had to be around his most hated rival. He tried to approach her once he found her alone but the second she saw him she walked away, right back to Max, who put a protective arm around her shoulders and sent Charles a dirty look.

It took a few years for Charles and Y/N to get along and then just months to start dating. Charles learned that Max and Y/N were best friends since she moved from her home country to Netherlands. She lived in Monaco for a few months in between that, that's when they first met, and then her family settled in Roosteren, a town in Netherlands bordering with Maaseik (Belgium) where Max grew up. They went together to school and karting, becoming close pretty quickly. That's why she initially didn't like Charles, his rivalry with Max was so strong that she even disliked Charles. But with time his relationship with Max evolved into mutual respect and Charles and Y/N started getting to know each other better. When they were twenty, Charles made a bet with her: if he got to win the F2 Championship, she had to go on a date with him. She said yes and after he won they went to the first of many incredible dates they had together. Max took the relationship way better than Charles expected and he even gave them a gift for their first anniversary. Both Charles and Y/N gave everything to the relationship and Charles was elated with that, he loved how committed she was from day one. He felt like they were perfect for each other, a match made in Heaven. Being that close made it difficult for Charles when Y/N would spend so much time with Max, but he understood that they were best friends and needed some time for themselves.

After almost six years of dating, Charles and Y/N got married. It was a little celebration with their families and closest friends. It was also Y/N rookie year in F1, driving for Aston Martin along Fernando Alonso, with a contract until 2026. Everyone was happy, they were glowing and already planning for a year off together to have children when her contract was over. They married during summer break and moved their honeymoon to the off-season because Max and Y/N had their annual trip to Netherlands together right after the wedding. One thing Charles noticed was that Max and Y/N always went together back home on summer break and whenever he suggested they changed the date, both refused instantly. The trip wasn't long, it was just four days and they stayed at Y/N's childhood house. Charles never went with them, he suspected that the trip was more than just wanting to visit a childhood friend, but he could see that the topic was kind of delicate to them. He asked once about it and Y/N showed such hurt about it that he regretted asking. "We always go back to visit a friend of ours, it's complicated". He got that answer on their second year dating and was never told anything else about it. He never dared to ask Max and by the gloom mood the Dutch always wore for the trip, Charles knew better than to pry. It was something that Charles really wanted to know about since it seemed to affect Y/N pretty bad. Each time she came back extremely depressed and quiet. The last one hadn't been different, still, she recovered and went back to racing, winning two races in a row. Now, it was time for Qatar.

The heat was unbearable, Charles could feel it sweeping through his seat and into his suit, and that shouldn't happen. Lewis and Fernando had just been denied their petition to cancel, the two older drivers having taken the matter into their own hands to protect the younger ones. Max had talked to Christian to see if they could do something with Red Bull as a team. Nothing worked, the FIA wanted the race to happen so it was going to happen. They were all exhausted from the sprint the day before and they all felt terrible. Y/N looked down, she didn't do well with heat. Charles walked to her and sat by her side, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles gently.

"How are you holding up, Bunny?". He asked once he was sitting next to her on the floor, as everyone waited for the order to go to their cars. "Bunny" was a nickname that everyone had for her, she was a Loony-Tunes fan and had a lot of merchandising of it: mugs, shirts, hats, bags, you name it, she had it. Charles usually watched it with her, Bugs Bunny was her favourite.

"I think my teeth are sweating". She was frowning with annoyance, but that was quickly replaced with a giggle when she heard Charles laugh at her comment. They kept laughing softly, avoiding looking at each other, knowing that the cameras were following their interaction. She didn't like public displays of affection, not even with Charles, it made her uncomfortable to have her relationship analyzed all the time, so she just agreed to some light kissing and quick hugs. With her friends it was also a no, a lot of rumors circulated all the time, with almost every driver, even with her teammate, old enough to be her father, who she called her "racing dad". Fernando was the best teammate a rookie could have, he was experienced and patient, he took the time to explain things to her and guide her through everything that the racing world threw at her. They were really close, she was the kid he never had.

"Bunny, I tried, but they won't cancel". Fernando stood in front of them, an apologetic look on his face.

"I'm sure you did, Dad, don't worry". Next to him was Lewis, fumming,

"We should refuse to race. All of us together". The seven-time champion was an expert on getting people to work together for shared goals, and he was fearless when it came to things being unfair.

"Some of us could loose our seats for that, Lew". She knew that even if the four of them were safe, other drivers weren't that lucky. Most of the contracts said that they couldn't refuse to race, not without the green light from their Team Principal, and they were directly commanded to race.

"I know...". Lewis bit his lip, trying to contain his anger. "It's just so unfair". He shook his head when he heard the call for them to go to the cars. Y/N took Fernando's hand and got up. Charles gave his wife a hug and a quick kiss before parting to his car and hear her say her last bit to the conversation.

"Sadly, I think not even a tragedy can make them prioritize our lives over the money".

It was a 57-laps race. Charles and Y/N had their radios connected all the time, they couldn't talk to each other, but it gave them some peace of mind to hear the other's voice through the race. Everyone was complaining about the heat. Esteban threw up inside his helmet, Logan had to retire and Fernando asked to be drenched in cold water, something that was definitely not happening but God... he wanted it to. Charles felt like he was dying, his head hurt, it was hard to breath and the sand on the track made the car difficult to control, much more strength needed to keep the car on the track. It was lap 38 and he already wanted it to end, the first time in his life that he hated his job. He could hear that Y/N was complaining a lot, her voice tired and annoyed on the radio. She was uncomfortable on her seat, she had cramps on her hands and legs due to dehydration and her head was pounding non-stop. Still, she didn't feel like retiring and she made it clear. He could see her car moving around the track in front of him. She was P3, Max P4 and he was P5, with a prominent gap of almost 4 seconds to Max.

"Max is not doing well. He will retire this lap". Charles heard Xavi, his race engineer, on the radio and then heard his wife talking again, probably after getting the news about Max herself from her own radio.

"This conditions are inhuman". She sounded angrier than before, she was probably worried about her friend. "I can't believe they didn't cancel, I can't beli-". The radio transmission was cut short as Max's car collided with hers. Charles saw the whole accident happen in front of him, even having to drive out of the track himself because of it. They were all on turn 4, she turned, Max didn't. He didn't even break, his front wing impacting the right side of her car and pushing her against the wall of the track in a T-shaped crash. Everything happened so fast Charles was having trouble processing the information. Xavi kept asking him if he was alright, but he was already getting out of the car. He wanted to run, to fly even, to get to her as fast as he could, but his legs weren't as fast as he wanted them to be. Max wasn't moving, unconscious in the cockpit. He could see Y/N moving and climbing out of her car, walking towards Max like she was drunk, her feet unsteady and her arms moving strangely. She seemed like a mix of tired and dizzy. He kept running but felt like he wasn't getting closer. He never noticed how much physical distance 4-seconds gaps actually were. He saw his wife doing what she could to get Max out of his car, a fire burning tall were their cars connected, close to Max's cockpit. She was walking backwards, Max's body limp against hers and she was using all of her strength to carry him away from the fire. Charles was a few meters away when she suddenly shook, a little yelp coming from her then falling to the sandy ground with a muffed thud, Max atop of her.

"Bunny! Max!". Charles screamed as he ran towards them. He kneeled next to the pair and quickly removed Max from his wife. The Dutchman was breathing softly, his chest barely raising with each little breath. Y/N, on the other side, was still, too still. He removed her helmet and balaclava and the first thing he saw were her eyes slightly open and unfocussed. Panic spread through his body when he couldn't find her pulse on her neck and no air seemed to come out of her, nor come in, her chest not moving at all. He removed his own head protection as fast as he could and opened her suit to move her clothes out of the way to start CPR compressions. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix". Charles counted, the sweat from the heat and the strength the CPR took mixing with his tears. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, vingt". One more set and he had to do two ventilations. He decided to focus on his task, even if a thousand thoughts went through his head. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, trente". He moved her head up and pinched her nose with that hand, pulling softly at her chin with the other to open her mouth, covering it with his own as he exhaled into her. Twice. He could only cry and plead as he moved away from her, to start the compressions again. "Please, mon amour, please don't leave me". He placed his hands on her chest again. "I love you too much, please stay with me". The pain inside his chest made it impossible for him to notice the heat anymore. He needed her back, he couldn't loose her. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix".

"Charles, you're gonna finish the set of compressions and then we're gonna take it from there, do you understand?". He never noticed when, but the paramedics made it there. As he nodded his head and kept working, he saw how some medics got Max on a stretcher and gave him oxygen.

"Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, trente". He was pulled away from Y/N when he made it to thirty. His first instinct told him to fight, to crawl back to his wife and never leave her side, but the arms that pulled him away were giving everything they had to keep him there. It didn't matter how much he cried or fought. The doctor cut her fireproofs open and placed the pads of the defibrillator on her chest. He could hear the machine talking, explaining that there was no pulse. "No! No! No!". He repeated as he kept fighting the marshal holding him down. Another medic was ventilating her with a bag valve mask. The machine told them to clear and everyone pulled away from her. Her body went stiff and then relaxed. The machine made more sounds and Charles felt like everything was taking too much time for his liking. Swiftly, Y/N was moved to a stretcher and took into the ambulance that just then Charles seemed to acknowledge. The last time he could see his wife, the machine was saying something but he was unable to hear as he was pulled away towards the safety car that had to take him to the garage, the ambulance taking off and disappearing from his sight.

He can't remember how he made it to the hospital, but the next thing after the safety car, he's sitting in a room, an IV connected to his arm and Joris rubbing his back. He could see thought the little window of the door that Arthur, his younger brother, was outside with Lorenzo, his older brother. The other two Leclercs were arguing and Charles could only worry as he felt his body too relaxed but his head racing. A doctor walked towards his brothers and after talking for a few moments, the three of them walked in. The doctor stood in front of him.

"Mr. Leclerc, your wife is stable now". She said with a small smile. Charles could feel the wet pattern of his tears on his cheeks. "She had a concussion. A big one, and between the dehydration and the effort of carrying Mr. Verstappen out of the car, her heart gave up and she had a heart-attack". Charles nodded. "You save her life. Her heart stopped working and the CPR you did on her kept her brain oxygenated enough time for us to start her heart back on. She's alive because of you".

"Can I see her?". He felt his throat dry and stiff as his hoarse voice came out in a whisper. The doctor nodded her head and helped Charles up.

"Yes, you can". She walked him through the hospital with his IV still connected, to help him recover from his own dehydration. Joris took the pole with his IV bag and carried it. "She's asleep now and we're getting her strong again with a supplement we're giving her through her IV". The doctor explained while they walked. "She has to stay for observation for 24hrs and then, if her MRIs are alright, you'll be able to go home". He nodded and took a deep breath when they stopped at the door of his wife's room. Then, anxious about what was waiting for him at the other side of that door, he pushed down the handle and walked in. He sat next to his wife and held her hand, kissing it softly. She moved a bit, stirring, and with her eyes still closed she called out:

"Maud?"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This is the first part! Enjoy.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines

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heyitsme1040 · 1 year

Text

Connected Through Music [s.r]

summary : Steve takes back the hoodie he'd lent you so he can go to the store. When he gets home, he realizes that you forgot something in his pocket and finds your mp3 player. Out of curiosity, Steve looks through your music and finds a playlist titled with his name.

pairings : Steve Rogers/Reader

warnings : None. This is just purely self-indulgent fluff. The nickname sweetheart is used. There's no use of Y/N, pronouns, or descriptors of the reader. If I did miss anything that should be a warning, please let me know.

word count : 1,600

AO3 (x)

a/n : I've been editing a lot of works in progress the past few months. I keep thinking that they aren't long enough to justify being posted, and have come to the realization they're just fine. Instead of stressing myself out with writing these, I need to enjoy writing them again.

“Sweetheart,” Steve called out from your shared room. “Do you need anything from the store? I’m gonna head out soon.”

“Would you mind grabbing me a new pair of earbuds? I don’t like the wireless ones Tony handed out, and my wired ones only work in a certain position,” you replied while walking out of the bathroom.

“No problem. Also, I’m taking this back,” the corners of his mouth turned up while he grabbed the hoodie he’d lent you weeks ago that you kept.

“What? No, don’t steal my hoodie!” You whined.

“Actually, it’s my hoodie,” he chuckled. “I lent you it, and it magically disappeared. I’m merely taking it back.”

You pouted while he pulled the hoodie over his head. As soon as his head reappeared, his eyes softened at the look on your face. He turned to his closet and rummaged around before pulling out a red hoodie.

“Here,” he held the hoodie out to you, “you can steal this one for a while. This one still smells like me.”

You beamed up at him as you took the clothing in your arms and buried your face in it. Inhaling deeply you smelt sandalwood and the ocean. Steve was right, it smelled better to you than the other one had. You were quick to pull it on, loving how soft it felt.

“See? Now we both have a hoodie that smells like the other,” Steve wrapped his arms around you and tucked you into his chest.

You kissed over where you felt his steady heart beat. You quietly groaned as the alarm on your phone went off. With one final squeeze, you made your way out of Steve’s warm embrace.

“I’ve got to go,” you mumbled. “Nat and Wanda wanted me to meet them in the garage so we could go to the mall.”

“Alright lovely. I hope you three have fun,” Steve kissed your forehead. “There’s supposed to be a new bookstore that opened up not too long ago. I meant to tell you when I found out, but I know you’ll want to look around.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you stood on your toes and kissed his cheek. “Be safe at the store.”

“I promise.”

Steve watched as you grabbed your purse and made your way out of the apartment. He changed out of the sweatpants he was wearing and tugged on a pair of jeans. Quickly typing what you asked for from the store onto his phone, he did one final walk through the apartment seeing if there was anything he’d forgotten to add onto the list. Satisfied that everything was written down, he slipped his shoes on and grabbed his wallet and keys.

Finally done picking up the things the two of you needed, Steve slipped his wallet into the pocket of his hoodie and made his way back to the Jeep. Putting the bags in the back and returning his cart Steve began the drive back to the compound. He turned up the radio, listening to whatever station you’d left if on last. Instinctively, he looked to the passenger seat only to find you weren’t there beside him. Steve was grateful you left the radio on your favorite station so he wasn’t entirely without you.

As he pulled up to the security gate, and showed his S.H.I.E.L.D. badge to go through he let his mind wander to you. He hoped you were able to enjoy yourself at the mall. He couldn’t wait to hear about what you got and did.

It doesn’t take long to have everything put away. Steve makes sure to place your earbuds on top of your laptop before putting his wallet on the nightstand. When his hand slips into the pocket, he’s met with the feeling of worn leather and cool metal. He puts his wallet down, then reaches back in to see what else was in his pocket. Wrapping his fingers gently around the slender metal object, he pulls out your mp3 player. Your earbuds are wrapped haphazardly around the light blue object, wire exposed in sections. He shook his head at the state of your earbuds, chuckling at how you’d described them earlier compared to what he was seeing. He carefully unwrapped the wire from your beloved device and threw them away.

He was surprised that you’d forgotten your music player in his hoodie, you usually make sure it was with you. Sure, you had music on your phone, but you preferred your music player. When missions required everyone to shut off their phone and go dark for a period of time, you would still have your music. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he powered on the device to see what songs you’ve been listening to recently.

He smoothly navigates from all of your albums to the playlists you’ve made. He’s shocked that as he scrolls past your driving playlist, your training playlist, and your sleep playlist that he suddenly sees one named after himself. He taps the playlist and feels his chest warm at the playlist. It’s a mixture of songs he’d told you he liked before the war, songs he’d said he liked that you showed him, and songs that just reminded you of him. He walked into your shared living room and connected the mp3 player to the speakers in the room and pressed play.

As the music began to quietly drift its way through your shared home, Steve heard you opening the door.

“Babe! I’m home,” you called out in a huff.

Steve made his way to your voice, finding you in the kitchen. You had some bags on the counter and were putting something in the fridge. Steve stepped up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. You quickly leaned back into his chest while closing the fridge.

“How was the store?” You asked, fully relaxing into his hold.

“It was fine. Did you have a good time?” Steve swayed the two of you to the music he could still hear from the other room.

You nodded, turning to face him, “I did, but I’d rather be home with you.”

Steve hummed his agreement while leaning down to capture your lips with his own. “I missed you,too. C’mon I want to hear all about your shopping adventures.”

“I found the bookstore you mentioned. It’s a small one, but really nice. We mainly walked through the stores browsing. I did pick up a few clothes, and a new pair of trainers for the gym. For the most part we just chatted while we got lunch,” you shrugged. “What about you?”

“The store wasn’t as busy as I expected it to be. I picked up what we needed and found some stuff to make my mom’s casserole one night this week. I took our Jeep instead of my bike since we needed some more things than usual, then I came home and put everything away. And when I got home you know what I found?”

“What?” You murmur against his lips, resting your foreheads together.

“You forgot your music player in my hoodie,” he began. “And I couldn’t help but chuckle at how worn your earbuds were. So I got rid of them, after I put your new ones on your laptop. I was curious what you were listening to so I looked. And I happened to find a particular playlist named after me.”

You couldn’t fight the blush that dusted your cheeks, burying your face into his neck. Steve picked you up and set you on the counter. Gently prying your face away from him, he stood between your legs making your eyes meet his.

“Don’t be embarrassed Sweetheart,” he cupped your cheek. “It was sweet. The thought of you being reminded of me while listening to music, you humming along to these songs when I can’t be around. It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I know you made it for yourself, but just finding out that I’m on your mind as often as you’re on mine melts my heart. When I was driving back the radio was on that station you love, and I looked over expecting to see you there. You weren’t, but it felt like you were,” you leaned into his palm at the touching words. “How’d I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

You shook your head while letting a sheepish smile grace your lips, “Well if that’s the case I guess it’s a good thing I got you a surprise.”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have–”

“I know, but I wanted to. I saw it and thought it’d be a good idea for you, too,” you gesture to one of the bags.

Steve plucks it up from the counter and hands it to you. You place one hand over his eyes, making him laugh, and use the other to pull out the small box. You pull your hand away, pleased to see he had them closed. You tugged his hand up and set the box into his hold.

“Okay, open!” You gleefully prompt him.

Steve’s eyes land on the box, and quickly recognizes a silver version of the mp3 player he’d found in his pocket earlier. “Baby, you didn’t have to. Seriously. Thank you, so much,” he tenderly kissed your lips.

“We can both enjoy our music, whenever we want to. Stay connected through it when the other isn’t able to be here,” you gently promised, holding his hand.

Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

#steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you

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itsaash · 6 months

Text

Hamptons Cubs continued....

We've got history together

The prompts from @noots-fic-fests have been invaluable in actually getting this AU written, with the character credit of course to @lumosinlove

Remember when personal chef Leo was invited by sweetheart Finn to bring his boyfriend up for the week to his house in the Hamptons? But then I left you on a cliffhanger on how Finn and Logan knew each other?? like 3 months ago?? Here's their backstory! (about 2000 words, rated T)

Read on ao3

Finn, for some unknowable reason, was taking History 1039: First Empires: Power and Propaganda in the Ancient World, and was actually looking forward to it each week. It was a smile in a crowd, a time slot highlighted deep green (which was the colour for good things, peaceful things), a moment to look forward to amid his absolutely manic final semester. And well, if he was being honest with himself, it was the time he saw Tremblay. Logan Tremblay. At a heavy wooden table, absolutely surrounded by reference books, he had learned Logan had played hockey as a kid, as Finn had too, and they’d traded hockey nicknames, seldom used now, and Tremzy had been a fixture in his colour-coded, highly precise day planner. Because if it wasn’t in the planner, it didn’t happen, and he needed those study sessions to happen.

Finn had known since freshman year that he needed another history class and had been putting it off, so here he was in his final semester, finally taking one. And the flutter in his heart whenever he sat down by Logan during the lectures made him appreciate his top notch procrastination skills.

The problem, one of the problems, is that history textbooks aren’t actually well written. Finn would find himself writing ‘we need to pick a theme here and stick to it’ in the margins. His book was marked up to the nines, comma splices fixed, bright orange highlighter over unnecessary details that only clog up the plot, and plenty of sky blue ballpoint pen notes of ‘where are we going with this?’.

But in this class he was expected to remember all those orange details? And had to write essays about the confusing dates and names and meandering themes? He should’ve picked a history class that covered a decade, tops. Any decade would do. This class was so broad it made his head spin. But, another class wouldn’t have had Tremzy in it, so.

So, their highly exclusive study group of two took up a permanent Wednesday evening slot of deep green in the planner. Logan could remember the dates and details and helped Finn with mnemonics so he could remember them too. They made up back-story and funny details to help Finn’s brain tie together a rambling plot. And Finn would read the textbook aloud to Logan on the days where he was too tired to read the English words and the scenes of ancient history would dance in the air between them as they helped each other learn.

The old fashioned study room had huge white candles in sconces around the room and the candles dripped their wax down the sides, within the glass containers. Finn stared at the patterns the wax made on the outside of the candle, tried to read them like tea leaves. Tried to remember dates and names and if that shade of green had always been the one associated with good things? The light from the candles sparkled off the glass holders and Finn knew that green would always mean good, now.

They were just weeks away from the end of the semester now, final essays in the final editing phase (the part Finn was actually good at. Logan may have learned quickly to send Finn his absolute earliest drafts, just to enjoy the sight of him opening his case of markers and highlighters with a flourish and smile). The sun was staying out later now, still shining as their evening study sessions went on into the night. They found themselves invited to a party at the hockey house after going to watch a Crimson game together. They had traded stories of their successes in junior hockey, and an injured player watching from the stands had joined their conversation and invited them to a party.

“Bruh, it’s gonna be summer vibes. We’re bringing on summer early. Wear florals or some shit. The chicks dig florals.”

Finn laughed, “I can probably manage that.”

“Make your outfit as colourful as your papers, Harzy,” Logan had teased. The player, Wags, upon hearing of Finn’s editing skills had desperately begged Finn to do just a quick edit of his last English paper. Finn agreed, laughing.

“Harzy, you’re a beaut! Fuckin comin through like a champ. Ok I gotta go join the boys for intermission pep talk but come by the house Saturday! Drinks all night for you two!” He pointed his crutch back at Finn and Logan as he walked away, “fuckin florals!”

Logan laughed and bumped Finn’s shoulder, “Yeah, Harzy, you beaut.”

Finn bumped Logan back. “Shut up. Roping me into editing in exchange for drinks. And you’re the one with flow,” he said, hitting the back of his hand into the bottom of Logan’s dark curls, which did flow just past his ears.

“Come on, as if your hair isn’t the nicest in any room,” Logan scoffed. He brushed his hand past Finn’s temple as if he was dismissing Finn’s thick red hair, but the touch lingered a bit longer than a dismissal would, and Finn drew his hand back as he felt the air thicken. Their eyes locked together for a long moment. Finn swallowed.

“I should head home,” Logan said, standing up, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “Essay to finish. Colour coded editing to decipher.”

Finn laughed, tried to make it sound natural and not high and tight.

“Yeah, ok. If we stay here any longer we’ll start calling each other bruh.”

“Yeah, put a red line right through that shit, Harz,” Logan laughed. And the air settled back to normal around them, for now.

But they did call each other bruh the rest of the week.

~~~

The party was fun. Wags came through with the drinks and introduced Finn in every room as “a total lifesaver, bruh.”

They’d danced, and played beer pong (Logan was unfairly coordinated, even amidst a house full of athletes), and debated music and majors with the other students.

But by midnight Finn and Logan were happy to leave the hockey players to their ever stranger games, and Finn walked with Logan back to his dorm. They collapsed into one of the couches in the sitting room off the main entry, it seemed no one was partying here tonight.

“Have fun, Tremzy?” Finn asked through a yawn. Logan tipped his head back against the couch and was quiet for a long moment. “Yeah, it was fun. Do you miss it? Hockey? And the built-in friends?” Finn also tilted his head back, and turned his head towards Logan. He waved a hand in the air. “Yes, and no. The sport itself, I loved, would totally play some more. And I made some awesome friends. But the locker room culture overall isn’t quite where I wish it was? It made it hard, in the end, and I just stopped having fun.”

“Ouias, même chose. And I just wanted to focus on other things.”

They sat for a long minute beside each other, heads resting back and looking at each other. Something switched in the air, like one of the sconce candles had been lit, all of a sudden, on. And Finn leaned over and was kissing Logan before he even knew he was going to.

Logan was still for just a moment before he threaded his hand into Finn’s hair and pulled him closer. Finn held Logan’s jaw in both his hands, unbearably gently, and they settled into each other, the press and movement of lips against lips, jaw, ear, neck.

“I’m not gay,” Logan murmured against his mouth, after some minutes, and Finn backed away slightly.

“That’s ok, that’s fine,” Finn said. He kept his hand cupping Logan’s jaw, never wanted to touch anything else after this sacred skin against his fingertips. “I think I’m bi, but lately there have been more guys in my mind, so who knows.” Not guys, the inner editor in his mind corrected. Guy. Singular. Be specific with your words. It’s green eyes and broad shoulders that have been building a home in your mind. But Finn couldn’t make his mouth say these truths, not with Logan’s eyes looking that stormy and wild and worried.

He leaned in again, 80% of the way, ok maybe 95%, but then waited to see if Logan wanted more. Finn melted and felt like he might float away when Tremz leaned in to press their lips together again. It was soft and tentative but Logan’s grip against his bicep with one hand and side with the other transferred plenty of desire and care. Finn thought he might keep his hand on Logan’s jaw until his hand cramped, it felt so good and right there, the slight stubble soft enough to feel like the best texture toy in existence.

Their lips pressed together like a dance. For a while soft and sweet, just Logan’s fingertips on Finn’s biceps and Finn’s fingers in their new home. Then it turned hotter, deeper. They gripped tighter and moved skating fingers across each other’s chests and hips.

Finn slung a leg over both of Logan’s, still sitting beside him, not on him, but now turned fully towards each other so they could press their chests together in a gasp.

“I thought you liked girls,” Logan said, very unfortunately using his mouth to talk instead of kiss. “You talked about Hannah a lot back at the start of the semester.”

“I do like Hannah. I like a lot of people,” Finn said into the hinge of Logan’s jaw. I like you, his brain amended.

“Have there been, you said you’ve been thinking of boys? Have there been guys in your bed too?” Logan said slowly, accent heavy around the words, the sentence stumbling as his fingers traced up and down Finn’s side. Finn’s heart galloped ahead before he could answer. He pulled back slightly, feeling that Logan really wanted an answer.

“Well, no, not lately. I mean, I have … well I’ve had a lot of people in my bed honestly. But lately, no, no guys in my bed for ... quite some time.” At least two months, Finn thought. A bit more? Which in retrospect was not the norm for him, but he honestly hadn’t noticed the lack these past weeks. “Why? Are there guys in your bed? You haven’t told me about anyone you’ve hooked up with.”

Logan just shook his head, fingers gripping into Finn’s hips, but he didn’t lean in again. “No, there hasn’t been, I mean I’ve done stuff with girls, but I haven’t, merde,” Logan looked up at the ceiling before levelling his gaze at Finn. “Finn, you’re the first guy I’ve kissed.” Finn raised his eyebrows. “I honestly don’t know what, don’t know who I like,” he stuttered.

Finn traced his fingertips over Logan’s cheeks. “Do you like this?” He trailed his fingers down Logan’s neck. Logan nodded. “And this?” Finn leaned in to place a soft kiss just below Logan’s ear.

“Absolutely.” Logan tilted his neck to give Finn more access.

“Ok, well then, Tremzy, do you want to keep kissing me? You don’t have to. It’s so fine if you want to stop.”

Logan just leaned in and captured Finn’s mouth again and Finn let himself be kissed within an inch of his life.

Some time later they slowed, and stopped. They peppered small kisses across each other’s faces for a long time before actually stopping. Finn walked Logan up to his room holding hands. They kissed one more time at Logan’s door. Finn felt like the house around them may as well not be there, like he may as well be floating with Logan, under the stars, for as much as he took notice of anything other than the soft lips, the scruff of hair, the hard muscles under his hands. It felt a little bit like magic.

In the scheme of things, their history together included dozens of evenings together with books strewn about the heavy wood table, a difficult course that had been successfully navigated by the help of each other, moments of care and kindness and friendship. But that was one class, a handful of months, one kiss. Years ago.

They had continued to study after that night, proof-reading each other's essays. There had been more casual touching, a hand on a knee or a stroke across a back as they walked by, but they hadn’t kissed again. Finn thought maybe they would at the end of the semester. But then the semester ended in a whirlwind of exams and papers and best wishes from so many people and Finn had been travelling into the city to find an apartment on the weekends and doing job interviews at magazines and publishing houses. They just … hadn’t. And then he’d dropped his whole fucking bag onto the tracks that day in New York and he’d decided to switch to an android phone, and the kiss, and Tremzy, were a fond but distant memory.

Except, now here he was. Right in-fucking-front of him. At his house. For the next 10 days. With Leo. Leo was his boyfriend.

What the actual fuck.

#fic-o-ween 2023 #o'knutzy #Hamptons AU #characters by lumosinlove #harvard FinnLo

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unpredictable-probabilities · 8 months

Text

Granting Favors 14 - Dances and Darkness

Summary:

The day after accidentally hugging Azul, Jamil learns about an upcoming party at the Cultural Festival. As he wonders how he could ever bring himself to ask Azul out, someone in the VDC team slowly starts to crack . . .

Word Count: 5,129

Author's Note:

Finally an update after five months!! Thank you all so much for waiting! :'>

And thank you so much to @patchyegg87 for helping me with editing this chapter. I hadn't written for this fic in so long that it was a little difficult to get back into the rhythm of it, and I'm very grateful for her help~

I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

(more notes at the end)

——

Jamil opened his eyes, seeing the unmistakable purple-silver of Azul’s hair. How long had he been pressing his face against it? Did he do anything else while he was asleep? Did he talk?

He took a breath to calm himself. What’s more important right now was to move away from Azul without waking him up. Azul didn’t even mean to fall asleep here last night; what if he woke up to Jamil hugging him from behind and accused him of being a creep?

Very slowly, Jamil lifted his arm from Azul’s waist, and moved away inch by inch until he got off the bed and stood unsteadily on the floor. He turned to get his phone from the nightstand and turn off his alarm, but he moved too quickly and his hand hit the lamp.

He caught it before it could fall, but the thing was so old and fragile that the lampshade and lightbulb got detached and fell to the floor. There was a crunch as the lightbulb cracked.

“Damn, that was my only light,” he cursed softly. The main lightbulb on the ceiling tended to flicker at random times, so he preferred to use the lamp whenever he needed light in the room, but it looked like that wouldn’t be possible now.

He steadied what remained of the lamp, then picked up the fallen lamp shade and lightbulb and put them back on the nightstand. He’d check later if the bulb would still work.

His phone lit up and the alarm rang. He felt an instinctive panic for a second, but reminded himself that it was alright now for Azul to wake up since he had moved away from him already.

He turned off the alarm as Azul began to stir on the bed. The Octavinelle Prefect sat up and blinked slowly, looking around in confusion. When his eyes landed on Jamil, realization dawned on his face.

“Oh dear,” Azul said and quickly got down from the bed and stood up, smoothing out his clothes. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here and take up space on your bed.”

Azul reached up to fix his hair, and Jamil tried not to stare as his fingers ran through those soft locks that he had been nuzzling just minutes ago.

“Your glasses are here,” Jamil said to distract himself. He picked them up from his nightstand and handed them to Azul.

Azul took the glasses and wore them. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother.”

“No,” Jamil shook his head. “I fell asleep almost immediately after you did.”

“You could have woken me up, you know,” Azul said as he took his backpack from the floor.

Jamil crossed his arms. “You rarely go to sleep early, I wasn’t gonna ruin it. Now let's go downstairs before Vil accuses me of oversleeping."

They went down to the lounge and ran into Yuu holding a cup of what looked like hot chocolate.

"Oh hey, guys! I didn't know you were still here," Yuu said to Azul.

"Ah, yes, I had accidentally fallen asleep while working on our project." Azul adjusted his glasses. "I hope I had not overstayed my welcome."

"Of course not! You're welcome to stay over anytime," Yuu smiled and headed to the kitchen.

"I should get going," Azul glanced at his watch. "Thank you for letting me stay the night."

"No problem. Our next schedule to work on the project is at lunch, right?" Jamil asked. They had two hours of lunchbreak and they decided to use most of it for their project.

"Yes, after Alchemy," Azul replied.

Jamil nodded. "Right, I'll see you then."

Azul tipped his head politely and smiled before heading out the door.

Jamil went to shower and stood under the water for a while, hoping the cold would help his mind forget what he had done in his sleep last night.

—

Morning classes went by without much trouble. They fortunately had less workload because of the upcoming festival; the teachers were busy preparing for it, too. He just had Alchemy left then it would be lunchtime.

A colorful poster on the bulletin board caught his eye, it was made by the Film Appreciation Club advertising the party they would be holding at the festival.

Jamil recalled how the senior members of the club had visited their Magical History class earlier to announce the event, explaining that it would have a buffet and a dance floor. He didn't think much of it, until after the club members left and his classmates started whispering about who they were going to take as dates to the dance.

He didn't know why, but his eyes had instinctively sought out Azul a few seats away from him, though Azul was busy continuing to answer the seatwork that got interrupted by the event announcement.

Now that he had seen the poster, questions nagged at the back of his mind. Should he ask Azul to the party? Would Azul even want to go at all, considering he didn't like eating a lot or dancing?

Anyway, the festival was still several days away, so he had a lot of time to think about whether he should ask Azul. He wasn't too worried about someone else asking him. Most of the students still found the Octavinelle Prefect intimidating; Jamil couldn't imagine any of them having the guts to ask Azul to go with them to such an event.

It was at the end of Alchemy when he realized he might be proven wrong.

They were all packing up their things after Professor Crewel dismissed them, and Jamil overheard a particular conversation a few seats behind him.

"Are you guys going to that party by the Film Club?"

"I dunno, not really into dance parties."

"I should like to go, yes. And I'm planning to snag myself a handsome date to go with me."

Normally Jamil didn't care for conversations that he wasn't a part of, but something about that person's smug and confident tone made him glance over.

His fellow Second Year had a Pomefiore armband, but he couldn't remember his name at the moment. More importantly, though, was where he was looking.

Jamil followed his gaze and saw Azul by the shelves, double-checking the test tubes for cracks before returning them to their holders.

The Pomefiore guy stood up, and before he knew it, Jamil was already making his way to Azul.

"Hey," he said when he got behind the Octavinelle Prefect. "Those test tubes look fine. Let's head to the library now."

Jamil subtly looked over at the Pomefiore student. He was caught up in conversation with another friend, but he was much nearer to them now. At any moment he would be reaching Azul.

"Just making sure," Azul said, putting the last test tube back on the rack. "I wouldn't want to get blamed for cracked test tubes when Professor checks the equipment."

The conversation close behind Jamil seemed to be ending already, and he found himself tapping his foot restlessly while waiting for Azul to be ready to leave.

"Alright, everything looks good," Azul said, adjusting his glasses. "Shall we?"

Jamil exhaled a sigh of relief. "Yeah."

He started pushing Azul toward the exit, joining the flow of students who were in a hurry to leave and get lunch.

Jamil kept glancing over his shoulder while they walked, and fortunately they lost the Pomefiore guy among the bigger crowd of students in the hallway.

"Well, I'd never seen you be so eager to go to the library before," Azul said with mild surprise on his face.

Jamil realized that he still had his palms pressed against Azul's back, gently pushing him to move forward.

He immediately let go and took a step back.

"Uh, yeah. We'd be working there for about two hours and I wanna get a good seat since we'd be staying that long," Jamil lied through his teeth. Their seating wasn't really his priority at the moment.

Azul nodded thoughtfully. "Good point. We should head to the more spacious tables before other students take them."

They headed to the library and took a seat near the back where the couches and bigger tables were.

Blueprints and notebooks were scattered on their table, and they had been working for about half an hour when a voice spoke.

"Azul, I had hoped to find you here."

Jamil looked up to see the smiling face of the Pomefiore Second Year.

This time Jamil remembered his name. He recalled it because of the way that his dark brown hair was combed more properly than it had been at Alchemy–Jamil could swear that it even had a subtle shine to it now–and he had replaced his school uniform jacket with a fancier-looking blue and white coat.

Hansel Finnegan of the Southern Isles. The bastard had dressed up for the occasion of asking Azul out.

"Hansel," Azul said in surprise, straightening up into a more formal posture. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Please," Hansel elegantly waved a hand. "You know you can call me Hans."

Something about the way he said it reminded Jamil of another guy wearing fancy clothes.

"Please, just 'Rielle' would be fine."

It did not help his irritation.

Hansel smoothly sat across from Azul, not even acknowledging Jamil's existence. "I came here because I wanted to know if Mostro Lounge would be catering the Film Club's event. You know how much I adore your dishes."

Azul raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Really now? Then shouldn't you be having lunch at Mostro Lounge?"

Hansel chuckled. "I did go there just now, but they said you weren't in, and I wanted to speak with you personally."

"Oh?" Azul said with interest. "I should tell you that I don't do my usual contracts anymore, but I'm sure we can come up with an arrangement," he said with his polished businessman smile.

Jamil wanted to thwack him in the head with a rolled-up blueprint. He really thought Hansel was after him for business?

"Wonderful," Hansel said sweetly. "An 'arrangement' sounds too formal, but would you—"

"Azul," Jamil said a little too loudly.

Both of them turned to Jamil, looking startled.

"Yes?" Azul asked.

"Do you wanna go to the party with me?" he blurted out. He stopped breathing and his hand clenched his pencil tightly as he held Azul's gaze.

Azul's eyes widened and a faint pink colored his cheeks. "I—" he cleared his throat and assumed a more neutral facial expression. "Yes, I would like that."

"Cool," Jamil said lamely, feeling his heart thumping in his chest.

Azul turned back to Hansel. "Now, where were we? It's currently not my business hours so I can only spare you a bit of time, but you can come back to my office at Mostro Lounge later after classes."

Jamil relished the glare that Hansel was giving him. Yeah, now you notice me, asshole, he didn't bother to hide his smirk.

Hansel's expression soured, then he turned back to Azul. "No, never mind."

He stood up to leave, but looked at Azul one more time. "It has been nice speaking with you. Have fun with your… friend." He looked at Jamil pointedly then walked away.

"What was that about?" Azul asked him quietly after Hansel disappeared out of their sight.

"Who knows," Jamil glanced down at the blueprint he was working on. "Hansel had always been a weird guy."

"I wasn't referring to him."

Jamil looked up at Azul again and saw that he was raising his eyebrow curiously.

"What?" Jamil tried to sound neutral.

"Don't play dumb, Viper, it doesn't suit you." Azul shook his head. "Why suddenly ask me to the party in the middle of a conversation with someone else?"

"Oh I'm sorry," Jamil's voice was sharp with sarcasm. "You didn't want your conversation with the pretty boy to be interrupted? Well he interrupted us first, just showing up in the middle of our work."

Azul's lips pressed together in a hard line and he turned away from Jamil, continuing on writing in his notebook as if nothing happened.

Jamil felt sick to his stomach. He hadn't meant to lash out like that, but everything happened too fast and he instinctively felt defensive.

"Because I wanted to go with you," he mumbled, feeling his face warm.

"What?" Azul looked at him in surprise, as if he wasn't expecting Jamil to speak again so soon.

Jamil averted his eyes, and he couldn't help the frown on his face. "I wanted to go with you, and if I hadn't asked you when I did, Hansel would have beaten me to it."

"Hansel was going to ask me to the party?" Azul sounded genuinely confused.

Jamil looked at him and his frown deepened. "Wow, you really are oblivious, huh?"

Azul shook his head dismissively. "If Hansel were indeed going to ask me to go to the party with him, it would be because he wants to flaunt me to his friends. He did the same thing last year when he took Kristoff Andersen to Mostro Lounge's grand opening. He merely wants arm candy, he doesn't like me."

"And how would you know? You can never tell when people like you," Jamil said irritably.

Azul frowned. "How was I supposed to know that about Rielle? We rarely interacted in school, it didn't make sense."

I'm not talking about Prince Rielle, you blind octopus, Jamil barely stopped himself from saying.

"Whatever," he shook his head and cleared away their previous sketches on the table to make more space. "Let's just get back to work."

"I wouldn't have gone with Hansel, anyway," Azul said quietly, turning a page in his notebook and continuing to write. "Even if he asked me."

Jamil looked at him. His thoughts were overlapping, and he couldn't grasp what words he should say next.

He took a breath and remembered Rook's advice.

Honest, honest. Come on.

"Well I'm… glad you wanna go with me," his voice faded out so much that he wasn't sure if Azul had heard him.

He pursed his lips and went to label the parts in the blueprints, like what he should have been doing instead of all these distractions.

"Admittedly, I'm surprised you asked me," Azul turned to him. "I wouldn't have thought that going to such events was something you'd like to do."

"It sounded fun when the Film Club members were announcing it," Jamil said, even though he barely remembered the details. "And if it turns out to be false advertising, I can always entertain myself by watching you complain about the food presentation."

A smile pulled at the corner of Azul's mouth. "So you're bringing me along as your personal entertainer?"

Jamil shrugged. "Things are always more fun when you're there with me."

Azul looked surprised for a moment, then he chuckled and adjusted his glasses.

Jamil realized that Azul was trying to hide the hint of pink that had dusted his cheeks.

If being honest would get such reactions out of Azul, then Jamil could get used to it much easier.

"Consider me honored," Azul said playfully and went back to writing in his notebook.

Jamil should get back to work as well, instead he found himself staring.

The library's soft lighting highlighted Azul's features; the way his forehead was furrowed slightly in concentration, his eyelashes that subtly reflected the light whenever he blinked, the slope of his neck.

Jamil forced himself to turn back to the blueprint, fighting a smile at the thought that Azul chose him over Hansel Finnegan.

—

They were on a break from rehearsals, and Jamil was walking down the corridors of Pomefiore. He didn’t have a destination in mind, but it was nice to just be alone for a while in the quiet of the dorm, especially after what just happened.

Their breaktime would be longer than usual, considering that two of their group members had walked out. Rook had followed Deuce, but Jamil had no idea if that helped at all.

“That little potato doesn’t appreciate my efforts at all,” Vil’s offended voice said quietly from around the corner.

Jamil stopped in his tracks.

“Now, now, it isn’t like that, mon étoile,” Rook’s voice says reassuringly. "Our little Pommette might just be getting overwhelmed by it all. Unlike you, my dear, he's not used to being in the spotlight with such expectations."

Vil huffed, but didn't contradict him.

"He wants to be strong, yes? Then you only need to explain how his inherent adorableness would help him achieve that," Rook said optimistically.

"I'm not sure I even have the patience for any more explaining," Vil replied, irritation evident in his voice.

"Why don't you get some rest for a few minutes?" Rook said gently. "It wouldn't hurt to take some time to yourself for a while, everyone else is resting for now."

"I can't be just like everyone else, Rook," Vil snaps, the bite sharp in his voice. "Not if I want to defeat Neige."

Jamil had never heard Vil speak like that before, especially not to Rook.

Cautiously, Jamil stepped forward and peeked around the corner. He saw Vil's face and instinctively held his breath.

The Pomefiore Prefect's beautiful features were twisted in an expression that seemed to run deeper than anger, something almost disturbing that made goosebumps appear on Jamil's arms.

A casual observer might not notice anything strange from Rook's stance, but Jamil could see that he was leaning away from Vil ever so subtly. Rook, whom he had never known to be afraid or even shy away from anything.

Rook blinked and put on his usual smile. "Then how about you post that photo of you drinking the apple juice that Epel's family had sent us? You had been planning to do that this afternoon, right? Perhaps when our dear Epel finds out that you like the product that his family sent, it might soften him up a little and you two would be able to have a proper chat?"

“Fine,” Vil huffed, his expression mellowing under Rook's calm voice. “I might as well be productive while on this break. Posting on MagiCam would give our team more online presence."

Jamil could hear Vil’s high heels clicking against the floor as he walked away.

He took a breath and stepped into the next corridor.

“Ah, monsieur!” Rook greeted him cheerfully as if nothing amiss had happened. “On your way to the cafeteria?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jamil said, even though he didn’t really have a destination in mind. “Is… Vil okay?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” Rook nodded reassuringly. “He and Epel do get into arguments sometimes, but it’s nothing that they cannot resolve eventually.”

“Has it ever been that bad before?” Jamil furrowed his eyebrows.

Rook hesitated for the briefest moment, and worry flickered across his eyes, but he hid it with a bright smile. “Don’t worry anymore about the both of them, I shall personally make sure that they are on good terms again before this day is up. How about you, then? How is Monsieur de l’Effort?”

“Oh, um…” Jamil looked down at his feet as he and Rook walked along the corridor. “We had lunch. It was… nice.”

He kept his eyes averted, as if Rook could guess just by looking at him that he and Azul had slept in the same bed last night. Again. And Jamil had woken up with Azul in his arms.

Great Seven. He could feel his face warm just at the memory of it.

“Merveilleux,” Rook beamed at him. “So you have decided to spend more time with him after all?”

“Yeah,” Jamil nodded. “He seems to like spending time with me too, anyway, so…” he trailed off and clenched his teeth to keep himself from smiling.

Rook gasped dramatically. “And how did you come to such a conclusion? I want to hear everything!"

"Well, uh…" Jamil wasn't sure if he should tell Rook, but everyone's gonna know anyway once he and Azul show up together. "I asked him to go with me to the Film Club's party, and he said yes…"

"C'est génial !" Rook was practically glowing. "I'm going to that party myself, and I am just sure it's going to be absolutely beautiful!"

Rook starts to ramble about the party details that he helped the club with, but Jamil was only half-listening, his thoughts occupied with his obviously growing feelings for Azul, Rook's worry that he was trying so hard to hide, and Vil's features morphing into a visage that even Vil himself wouldn't call beautiful.

—

"Something on your mind?" Azul asked Jamil sitting across from him, trying to keep his tone casual.

Jamil had barely spoken since they started working on their project in the Ramshackle lounge, and he had a look about him that showed something was weighing on his mind. Now that the lounge was empty except for the two of them, Azul hoped Jamil would feel comfortable enough to confide in him.

He blinked distractedly at Azul. “Sorry. I just…” his forehead seemed to crease with worry. “Vil seems even more stressed out lately. And not even only during rehearsals when we make mistakes, but even when he’s alone and there’s no one to scold.”

Azul waited patiently for Jamil to continue. He had a feeling that there was more to the story; if it were only as simple as Vil being stressed by VDC pressures, Jamil wouldn’t look so worried.

“I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling…” Jamil shook his head.

“What is it?” Azul gently encourages. He didn’t want Jamil to just dismiss his worries, especially if it was something that was affecting him this much.

“Vil has a sort of… dark aura around him these days, whenever he gets upset,” Jamil's gaze looked distant.

"Dark aura?" Azul furrowed his eyebrows.

Jamil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "At first I thought it was just stress from the competition, but earlier he had this big fight with Epel, and afterwards he was like a different person. Even Rook seemed scared of him. And his face…" he felt a chill down his spine just thinking about it. He looked at Azul, waiting for him to understand.

Azul’s face went slack in realization. “You don’t think…?”

“I don’t know,” Jamil mumbled, looking lost.

Azul tapped his pen on the table, and it was a few moments before he spoke again. “I was afraid this might happen," he muttered.

Jamil looked at him, a frown creasing his forehead. “What do you mean?”

Azul looked around to make sure that the lounge was still empty. Still, he leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“All four Overblots happened within an interval of mere weeks,” he explained. “It has almost been a month after yours, which means, hypothetically… the next one is right around the corner.”

The lounge seemed to get colder as his words hung in the air; a sense of foreboding weighed down the atmosphere, and for a few moments everything was still, as if the very room was holding its breath.

“Are you sure that the others Overblotted?” Jamil asked. “They could just be rumors.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Azul nodded grimly. “I had Jade and Floyd look into it after my Overblot. It’s true, both Riddle and Leona Overblotted. And apart from the consistent intervals, there was another pattern. Until you, everyone who Overblotted was a Prefect. I wonder if it’s because we’re more powerful than the other residents, and therefore more susceptible to Blot. It would also explain why you Overblotted instead of Kalim. Between the both of you, you’re the one who has more magical energy.”

Jamil was looking at Azul with mild surprise.

Azul averted his eyes. “I had thought about it a lot after you Overblotted. I wanted to understand it. I kept wondering if there was anything I could have done to have prevented it from happening to you but…”

“Hey,” Jamil said softly. “That’s done, okay? There’s no use beating ourselves up over what’s already happened.”

Azul nodded and stayed quiet. It was something that he thought he could leave behind, but now it seemed like they couldn’t just forget about it.

“You… really wanted to know if you could have prevented my Overblot?” Jamil asked uncertainly. “Why would you still agonize over that? Is it because you already suspected that it might happen again to someone else?”

Azul let out a humorless chuckle. “Ah, my reasons were not nearly as noble. No, I wasn’t trying to figure out a way to prevent the next one. I just wanted to be absolutely sure if there really was nothing that I could have done to protect you from it. Because if there was something but I failed to do so…” he sighed. “I cannot allow myself to make that mistake again.”

Jamil stared at Azul. “Why do you care about me so much?” he asked in bewilderment.

Azul met his gaze. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Jamil seemed at a loss for words, and before he could think of anything to say, Azul cleared his throat.

“Anyway,” he began, sitting up straighter and trying to compensate for whatever vulnerability he had shown earlier. “Even if it is true that another Overblot is at hand, it is still not certain if it would be Vil. We need more information.”

“Yeah,” Jamil nodded, though the notion that someone else besides Vil might Overblot wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“I can put Jade and Floyd to work in keeping tabs on Vil,” Azul said. “They’ve seen two Overblots already and they might notice the signs, if there are any.”

“I should talk to Yuu,” Jamil realized. “They’ve seen four Overblots already, right? If anyone can figure it out, it’ll be them.”

“Right. I’ll review my notes on Overblots and look into it myself,” Azul said, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

Azul stretched his neck from side to side and massaged the back of it as he looked over their project designs. Jamil noticed the exhaustion in his eyes and wondered if he had taken a break today at all, what with the booth preparations for the Mostro Lounge and the Board Game Club, and now their project.

Jamil looked at the setting sun outside the window, then started tidying up their things.

"Let's just continue this tomorrow," he said as he put his notebook in his backpack.

Azul frowned and looked at his watch. "According to our schedule, we still have half an hour left."

"Uh-huh, and when was the last time you took a break today since waking up?" Jamil raised an eyebrow.

Azul pursed his lips and averted his gaze. It almost looked like a pout, and Jamil had to suppress a smile.

"I thought so," Jamil said. "Can't have you passing out on a desk again at some point. We made a lot of progress today, I bet we can get this more than halfway done by tomorrow."

He picked up their empty teacups and stood up to place them in the sink.

"Fine," Azul relents, tidying up the blueprints. "I'll be going over to Sam's shop on my way back to Octavinelle to pick up more materials for this. Shall I get a new lightbulb for your lamp while I'm there?"

"Nah it's okay," Jamil said, raising his voice a little as he entered the kitchen. "I'm not sure if it's broken anyway, and I can probably fix it–" he froze as the realization struck him.

He placed the cups on the sink and hurriedly went back to the lounge where Azul had finished tidying up and was standing by the table.

"How did you know I might need a new lightbulb?" Jamil squinted at him.

Azul stopped midway through buttoning up his coat. "Well, um…"

Jamil had mentioned his possibly broken lightbulb exactly once, right after he had gotten out of bed that morning when he realized what he'd done in his sleep…

"You were awake?!" he yelled, his eyes widening as warmth rapidly started rising to his cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry!" Azul said defensively. "I figured it was an accident so I didn't wanna say anything–"

"What are you apologizing for, you idiot?!" Jamil turned around and put his hoodie up, his face burning as he crossed his arms and glared at the floor. "I should be the one apologizing."

"Jamil, it's fine," Azul said reassuringly. "I'd only been awake for less than a minute before you let go of me, and it isn't like you harmed me in any way."

Jamil stayed quiet. Maybe if he just didn't say anything, Azul would leave already.

"Oh come now," Azul said in a slightly playful tone. "You were quick to reserve me for the dance but you're embarrassed of an accidental hug?"

Jamil whipped around to glare at him. "I asked you about the dance, but not the hug. I never would have done that without your consent–" his face burned as he realized what he had said. Did he just admit that he'd hug Azul if he let him?

He turned his back again and pulled his hood down even lower, tensing up to stay rooted in place and spare himself the indignity of running out of the room.

He heard Azul's quiet footsteps approaching him, and before he could guess what was about to happen, Azul's arms wrapped around him, his chin resting on Jamil's shoulder.

"There, we're even now," Azul said softly, speaking just on the other side of Jamil's hoodie. "So you don't have to feel so bad about it."

Jamil's eyes had gone wide, and he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Azul's hold on him was loose; he could easily push him off if he wanted to. But Jamil was too focused on Azul's warmth, his chest pressing enough against Jamil's back that he could feel the merman's thundering heartbeat in sync with his own.

Azul let go of him and took a few steps backward. "Anyway, I shall be getting back to my dorm now."

Jamil stayed frozen in place as Azul's footsteps faded away and he heard the door open and close.

—

Azul quickly walked away from Ramshackle as soon as the door closed behind him. He must have gone mad, suddenly hugging Jamil like that. But truth be told, he didn't regret it at all. Hugging Jamil felt just as nice as being hugged by him. He could only hope that Jamil didn't resent him for it.

His face still felt warm as he made his way over to Sam's shop, deciding to buy a spare lightbulb along with the other materials.

——

Author's Note:

I'd been writing an AshenViper AU (where Azul ended up in RSA instead of NRC) with @patchyegg87, which is part of the reason why this fic took so long to update.

We had already written around 10 chapters of it already, so we'll just be editing the first chapter and posting it tomorrow, hopefully. After that, we aim to post a chapter of it every week~

Anyway, thank you for reading! ^_^

——

<- Chapter 13

(Masterlist)

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