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writeyouin · 3 months

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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - I Don't Need You

A/N – Since the first chapter got comments and actual reblogs, surprise, surprise, I was motivated to continue. See, Tumblr? This is how it works. I respond to instant validation.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

You looked around the dusty hallway that comprised the main entrance to Lucifer’s manor. Yikes, Charlie was right; he really did need a cleaner. You doubted that was her main motivation for placing you in her father’s care but looking at the layers of thick dust and brimstone coating downstairs, you could see it hadn’t been used in a long time.

Lucifer watched you sceptically. Ideally, he would have liked to leave you to find your own way around, but he didn’t want to be accused of not trying by Charlie, should you call her and state that Lucifer was straight up ignoring you.

With that in mind, he bade you to follow him with a wave of his arm and gave you a half-arsed tour of each room, during which he would energetically state its name, and occasionally pepper in a fact if he felt like it and then hurry along.

“Parlor one, dining room, parlour two, library, parlour the… you know what, we have a lot of those, if you see a room with chairs and a fireplace, assume it’s a parlour. Moving on, bathroom, closet, like the parlour situation, there are lots of bathrooms and closets. Kitchen, which is always stocked by the way, so I don’t have to shop,” He muttered a sentence about the Hell of going out there, and then he was back to his bubbly self, rushing you through the rest of the tour, “Games room, spa, my room – don’t go in there – and here, among the unnecessary number of bedrooms, is your room.”

Although every room in the manor was lavish by Hell’s standards, Lucifer had sneakily pre-worked a bit of his magic to make yours somewhat undesirable. It was still large and had all the fixings, but now, it was dirty, damp, and there would always be an underlying scent of slightly rotten milk, that was just noticeable to annoy anyone, yet not something so offensive that he could be blamed for causing it.

The now slightly squalid room wasn’t Lucifer’s way of being petty and cruel; it was just that he wanted you to leave, and that would only happen if you had a reason to. You should go back to the Hotel where you belonged; better yet, you should just head to a different part of Hell where neither he nor his daughter would have to look at your disgustingly human face… A face that, though nothing like Lilith’s, reminded Lucifer of his wife since there was nobody else even remotely like her except for their daughter and now, unfortunately, you.

The simple fact of the matter was that Lucifer was just waiting for you to start demanding things of him, or Charlie. It would likely start with something small, like changing rooms, then if he gave you an inch, you would take a mile, and soon you would demand he use his Angelic Powers to serve you in seemingly impossible ways.

One way or another, the room was a test. You would either see it and leave in search of greener pastures or a better deal elsewhere, leeching off whoever would give you the time of day, or you would stay and start giving orders; either way, Lucifer would be able to return to his daughter with proof that sinners were the problem, not him.

You stepped into the room, accidentally kicking up a cloud of dust that made you sneeze.

After a minute, you turned to Lucifer, “Thank you for the room. It’s lovely.”

Lucifer held back a grimace as you had the audacity to smile at him.

“Great,” He replied in a strained tone, “Just perfect. So, I’ll uh, leave you to get settled in and-”

Just then a portal opened over the canopy bed and two packed suitcases landed there, courtesy of Charlie. Lucifer tasted his daughter’s magic in the air and sighed resignedly; whatever Charlie had planned she wasn’t backing down from what she likely thought was a good idea.

“Right on time,” Lucifer commended the fine timing of his daughter, and even though he was clearly uncomfortable with her plan to give him company, he did seem genuinely proud of her expert timing; then again, he was proud of anything she chose to do even if he didn’t always understand what it was she was doing.

“Great,” He repeated somewhat tiredly. Then he forced himself to smile. It was important that you would see him happy so that Charlie would hear about it later. “You go ahead and unpack. I’m going to do some very important work.”

The sentiment of ‘Don’t disturb me!’ hung in the air, unspoken, but obviously there.

Once Lucifer left, you flopped down on your bed, thinking about all you had seen. You checked your phone, finding several texts from Charlie, progressively getting more impatient as she awaited your reply with a somewhat hyper-anxious anticipation; it seemed the apple truly didn’t fall far from the tree.

‘How was your arrival?’

‘Did you get the grand tour?’

‘Which room did he put you in?’

‘I bet it was the Rococo room.’

‘Oh no, he didn’t put you up in my old room, did he? That would be so EMBARRASSING!!!’

‘Wait, why aren’t you replying?! PLEASE TELL ME HE’S BEING NICE TO YOU!’

‘I can come over if you need me to.’

‘Did your bags get there okay?’

You smiled and decided to put Charlie out of her misery. Your phone alerted you that she was already writing another message, but as soon as you started to compose one of your own, the notification that she was typing disappeared.

‘The tour was fine. Lucifer has been nothing but polite,’ and frazzled, you thought, though you omitted that part from the text; it was best that Charlie didn’t have anything extra to worry about while preparing for her meeting with Heaven.

‘My room is also amazing btw. I don’t know about Rococo or whatever, but it’s certainly stunning, and judging by the lack of stuffed animals and probably cheesy posters, I’m guessing it isn’t your old room.’

You really meant that. While your room was in need of a good cleaning, and there was a slightly off odour, it was indeed beautiful with its lacquered wooden floors, rich velvet drapes (Hell-Red of course) and lustrous emerald wallpaper. It was one of the most beautiful places you had ever seen, especially since arriving in Hell, not long dead after… the incident.

You removed your thoughts far from the grim memory of your death, not wanting to relive your demise. It never did any good to think of such things, and you had to wonder whether all Demons fixated on the manner in which they perished. Perhaps some were lucky enough to die in their sleep or get hit by a bus; at least the latter would be quick, and the former peaceful.

Moreover, you also believed the other part of your text; Lucifer probably kept Charlie’s room as a shrine to her youth. He seemed like the sort of person who was stuck in the past.

Your phone buzzed again, and you expected another message from Charlie, but it was from Angel Dust.

‘When you get the chance, snoop in the Short King’s bedroom and find out what kinky shit he’s into. I’m betting food play. He seems like a whipped cream and apples kind of guy if you catch my drift.’

Betting? He had undoubtedly roped Husk and Nifty into said bet. Husk had likely opted for a safe option like bondage… You didn’t want to know what kind of kinky shit Nifty thought Lucifer was into; that girl was a dark horse.

“Never going to happen,” You murmured to yourself with a chuckle; you would never invade Lucifer’s privacy like that, but Angel’s text had made you laugh and distracted you from your earlier thoughts.

Getting up, you pushed yourself into action and began unpacking both your thoughts and your few clothes and possessions. You lit a scented candle that Angel had gifted you. It was one of his unwanted gifts from Valentino, Blueberry Blowjob. You were glad when the scent filled the air, taking away from what you incorrectly assumed was the faint smell of mildew. The smell didn’t concern you, you had plenty more candles and tea lights with such names as Orange Orgasm, Popcorn Pussy, and Cherry Cum-Shot.

The manner was well furnished, but all of the rooms were neglected. There were seven parlours in total, each matching the theme of one Sin, probably because it would be polite should they ever need to meet with the Royal Family one-on-one. Despite that, they seemingly hadn’t been used in some time, nor had the library or any of the living rooms. You hadn’t seen much of Lucifer’s room as he rushed you past the door, which had only been slightly ajar, but what little you had caught a glimpse of seemed cleaner than the rest of the manor. Did he spend all of his time in there? Alone? That was… It was sad. Lucifer could live well among anyone in Hell, except maybe Alastor, yet he couldn’t see the good in anyone.

Without Charlie and Lilith that must be lonely. How depressing that he had created a kind of personal Hell inside of Hell. You were starting to think that Charlie was right to send you home with him.

Still, it seemed like he needed some time to get used to the idea of company and you had a job to work as his maid. Once you were unpacked, you would seek out the cleaning supplies and get started.

Lucifer draped himself over his workbench, listlessly toying with a rubber duck. It was one of his worst creations… Couldn’t even breathe fire.

He didn’t even know why he continued to make them. Honestly, he couldn’t think of anything else to make, and it was better to make something than nothing, even if he ended up creating the same thing over and over again, clinging to the memory of how one celestial duck had made Charlie smile.

Her smile was everything. Even Heaven couldn’t take that away, or… Maybe they could, if this meeting went awry. No. Please God, No. Not that. Anything but that. Kill the sinners. Show him the agonising mistake of Free Will for eternity, but he hoped to never see the day that Heaven treated his daughter with the same derision they typically reserved for him.

Lucifer froze, a glower darkening his expression as you knocked on the door.

He had clearly implied that he didn’t want to be bothered. IMPLIED IT! It hadn’t even been one day and you were bothering him.

Lucifer didn’t open the door. He didn’t want you to see inside his room. That was his space and his alone. Yet, he didn’t want any risk of you barging in, so he poofed himself to where you stood outside, using a glamorous entrance to grab your attention.

“Yes?” He said expectantly, leaning forward on his cane, as if leaning closer to you didn’t disturb him half as much as it did.

“Oh,” You blinked back surprise, though you weren’t too shocked seeing how Alastar always snuck up on you at the Hotel in a similarly flamboyant manor. “Sorry to disturb you, Sir, but I just wondered if you could tell me where the cleaning products are kept? I would like to get started as soon as I can.”

Cleaning products? Lucifer was stuck on the sentiment as if he’d never heard of such foreign words. Then he seemed to remember, you had been volunteered as his maid. Right… That was Charlie’s way of making him take you.

You waited patiently for a response, having quickly learned that your host tended to drift between a fast-talking façade or thoughtful distractedness. You wished you didn’t have to ask him for help, but after searching three floors and the attic, you had gotten somewhat turned around, and you had no idea where you had already looked; the manor was massive.

Finally, Lucifer seemed to come to and he began boredly examining his hand.

“That won’t be necessary,” He stated demurely.

“It won’t?”

“No. It won’t.”

Behind you, Lucifer caught sight of a portrait of his family. The frame was carved blood-wood harvested from a Tree-Demon who once dared to insult Lilith in Lucifer’s presence. Two winged snakes adorned opposing corners of the portrait. With a lazy wave of his hand, they creaked and snapped, coming to life, and escaping their previous wooden home, leaving only indentations where they used to be. With another magical flourish, they grew slightly and became more life-like, shedding splinters as their new uniforms appeared.

“There, see, two half-sized cleaners. They’ll take care of everything.”

You stared hard at the new servants of the house, somewhat amazed by the show of power; nobody else in Hell could do anything close to creating life, and it seemed that Lucifer didn’t even care that he had such power.

Frankly, Lucifer was upset with his new creations. He had finally strayed from ducks, creating something new for the first time in over a century, and they were still bland. When he had created Razzle and Dazzle for Charlie, he had done everything he could to make them beautiful and unique. These abominations in front of him were cheap copies of that Sir Pentious fellow he had seen at the hotel. He just didn’t have anything left worth creating. There was no point.

Whatever. The snake servants would do their job quietly and obediently. And they’d be more useful and less annoying than Charlie’s reptilian friend.

“Oh, okay. Well, is there anything else you’d like me to do?” You asked, wishing to be useful. “I can cook pretty well, or I could run errands, or-”

“NO!” Lucifer snapped.

“But-”

“Don’t you get it?! I DON’T NEED YOU.”

Lucifer forced himself to take a calming breath, his gaze downcast so he didn’t have to look at you.

“This is all my daughter’s plan. All you have to do is stay out of my way here and Charlie will be happy. Do you think you can manage that?”

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verinarin · 4 months

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Winner takes all ! and he wins you

the awaited part 3 is here, thank you all for the support means a lot seeing you guys like and reblog this series ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

i’m pretty attached to this series so tell me if you guys want little blurbs or an epilogue about Veritas and his prize (you ♡)

Part 1 - Part 2

support me on ko-fi╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

There’s something so exciting about the fact that anything and everything could go wrong but somehow the endless possibilities leave you wanting, that burst of adrenaline you love so much is here right before your eyes

The red velvet table accessorised by casino chips of different colours, the pleasing sound of cards being shuffled, oh nothing could get you out of this sense of joy, except there is this certain Doctor who stood behind you, leaning close beside your ear

“Can’t you just sit on the couch behind me ?, you’re distracting me here,” you mutter as you feel his warm breath fanning your already hot neck

You swear you could feel his lips turned into a smirk as he answers you, “The game has not started yet, so I still have some time to guide you,” his stern voice now turns calm and soothing, perhaps to ease your mind a little

But how could you be more at ease when you’re both so close to each other !, one of his hands rests on the table while the other holds your chair. How will you focus on the game when the sight in front of you is his toned forearm decorated beautifully with veins, not to mention his hand beautifully sculpted adorned with his signature doctoral ring

Oh no !, you actually might lose if he spends any more time behind you. You suddenly snap back into reality when the casino owner, Mr. Cliff seat on the chair before you, accompanied by that eerie smile

“Well then have you drafted the contract ?,” he asks as he folds his arm and rests his weight back towards a chair that’s befitting for a king

Ratio summons the hologram contract and slides it across the table, “Feel free to read through the 57 pages of the contract to revise our agreement before signing it,” he states in a cold manner

Okay, now you feel sceptical over this contract, because usually you only need at least one page or perhaps five pages maximum. First what the hell did he put on those pages, second how the hell he could write that contract in approximately 30 minutes ?!?

“You put some bullshit terms in that contract didn’t you ?,” you whisper to Ratio while watching Mr. Cliff thoroughly skim through the pages he provided him with

“If you know the truth it’ll make you an accomplice so I can’t disclose anything for now,” he teases, ruffling your hair before walking towards Mr. Cliff to assist him in ‘understanding’ the contents of the contract

You groan as you try to brush through your now messy hair, you finish grooming yourself at the same time Mr. Cliff signs the contract, “Sign your name sweetheart,” he loudly chuckles as he slides back the hologram

“Don’t mind if I do,” you cheekily reply as you swiftly sign your name, once your name is on the contract the hologram automatically dissipates into thin air, which means that it’s already been approved and signed by the higher-ups

Ratio walks back towards your side of the table with a huge grin, oh he clearly puts insurance for you in that contract, well you appreciate his thoughtfulness but you won’t need it !

“Well then shall we begin sir ?,” you roll your sleeves as you await Mr Cliff’s response, with Ratio standing by your side you feel more motivated than before, It’s time to impress that stern partner of yours

“Do you always need your dog on a leash beside you ?” Mr Cliff scoffs as he eyes Ratio up and down, the fact that he calls your supervisor your dog on a leash turns you red and you slowly turn your head up to see ‘your dog’s’ face

Oh Aeons above please don’t let Ratio kills this man-

Ratio’s eyes squint as his lips twitch in disgust, before he can open his mouth and blow this whole deal out the window you quickly stand up from your seat to calm him down “Ratio, just sit back at the couch okay ?,” you practically beg, your voice laced with honey and desperation

Ratio merely scoffs before turning around and seat on the couch behind you, even though he’s quite annoyed at Mr Cliff, he knows that that foul man is insecure about himself, it’s evident that he’s actually jealous of Ratio and that comes naturally to a person with both unparalleled beauty and intelligence

You’re quick to focus back on the game at hand, you’re playing poker naturally and of course, you’re confident in your ability to win, you’re not only lucky but also cunning that’s the fruit of losing countless bets with Aventurine, you have a 95% chance of winning while playing with others but with Aventurine….

You still don’t know how the hell he gets that good, but the apprentice would never try to dethrone their master of course, in which case you just study the little things Aventurine does and explicitly teach you

As you get lost in nostalgia the dealer starts to shuffle the deck, it seems that he used a new card which makes it all the more interesting, it’s easier for you to predict your card and your opponents' card, well it is true you have a stroke of benevolent luck but luck doesn’t always cut it, so you turn into your memory and your card counting skills, you could get ban from casinos if they knew you can count cards

Well Mr Cliff seems to look down upon you, it’s in his right to do so since he’s one of the top players on Penacony, well you on the other hand are an informal apprentice of one of the best gamblers in the entire galaxy, you’re confident that Mr Cliff would quiver in fear if you spoke Aventurine’s name

“You seem awfully confident little lady,” Mr Cliff snickers as the dealer hands your cards, well you were confident before but now you’re well past that, Ace of Hearts and King of Hearts, your luck never ceases to surprise, Ratio took notice in your behaviour

You lean back towards your chair, your legs crossed. At that point he knew that you were confident with your hand, “Well let’s just say I’m having a good day today,” you smile

Mr Cliff also smiles, he starts off the game by betting his chips quite high, if you’re not mistaken this could indicate that he also has a good hand but you’re confident that is not as good as yours, so you raise the bet, not wanting to lose in the game of wits

“Well you’re raising quite fast sweetheart, you sure you wanna do that ?,” he chuckles, this man has great confidence in his cards huh ?, you know very well he’s trying to get under your skin, but to be frank only Aventurine manage to do so by his sarcastic comments

“What ?, you scared of me ~” you laugh, which seems to rile him up judging by how he loosens his tie. You swear you could hear Ratio curse behind you, he should loosen up a little since you’re practically going to win this

He scoffs as he asks the dealer to quickly reveal the three cards in the middle of the table, as the cards reveal itself, your face turns sour, well your lips do pout while the inside of your mind you rejoice, but you can’t show what to Mr Cliff. “What’s wrong little girl?” Mr Cliff asks his voice laced with faux empathy

“Nothing’s wrong,” you reply shortly, this you stage your set and you’re confident that Mr Cliff would have a straight flush on his hands, but what you don’t know is Ratio is clenching his fist tight behind you, he seems to believe your act

The game continues until it is time to place your final bet, Mr Cliff goes all in to end it all and of course now is the time for you to change your pitiful act, with a huge grin you push all of your chips to the middle of the table, “All in !” Mr Cliff is shocked by your sudden confidence, it’s like your whole being changed from hunching your back towards now looking down on him, your eyes glint mischievously

“Hah! prideful brat,” he scoffs angrily as he throws his card to the table to reveal a straight flush, he stands up from the table and cups your cheeks, “You’re mine now,”

Before you can reveal your hand Ratio stands and reaches for Mr Cliff’s hand pulling it swiftly to his back and pushing him down to the table, you’re shocked with the sudden move but take this to your advantage

You lean down to whisper to Mr Cliff’s ears, “I’m afraid your casino is mine,” you throw your card at his face, revealing a royal flush

Mr Cliff lost you and his casino and of course, you win his casino and unbeknownst to you, you also win Ratio’s heart. “W-what !, you’re fucking cheating that’s why this bastard is ughh!,” Before continuing his words ratio pushes Mr Cliff’s head to the table, “Please refrain from uttering foolish accusations or else-” Okay Ratio might have a knack for belittling others verbally but he never actually smack someone’s head ?!?

Somehow the sight of his hair draping down, covering the menacing glow in his eyes with his teeth gritted and his arms fully in display showcasing the strength he rarely used, that sight yes you need to take a picture-

You quickly grab your phone to snap a picture, “What the fuck?!?,” Mr Cliffs yells which is replied to by Ratio twisting his hand, is it bad that you find the sight hot ?, “I know I look completely out of character but really ? Taking a picture of me, it seems that you want to immortalised the look on my face when I’m jealous,” he sighs as he summons the contract with his free hand

“Ahahaha, now I believe we have a business to sort out,” you try to deflect the conversation by quickly taking the holo-contract and signing your name again, but Mr Cliff still doesn’t want to sign forcing Ratio to drag his fingers and press it on the screen to print out his thumbprints, “It was nice having business with you,” you smile as you pat Mr Cliff’s head that’s currently forced down towards the table because of Ratio

Without much thought you quickly step outside of the private room to call cooperate about the success leaving Ratio alone with Mr Cliff, Ratio leans down pressing his hand on Mr Cliff’s back before whispering, “If I see your pathetic self dare to even gaze upon her I will do just more than restraining you if you plan to harm her just know that I could easily break this feeble neck of yours or perhaps I should do so to prevent you from having the mere thought-“

“NO NO NO! I SWEAR ON MY LIFE THAT I WILL NOT HARM OR EVEN LOOK AT HER,” Mr Cliff yells as he struggles to set himself free, Ratio simply nods before smashing his head on the table, effectively knocking him out

“Hmm how’s Mr Cliff ?” you ask Ratio as he closes the door and walks towards you, “He’s still dealing with his loss but don’t worry he’s fine,” he curtly replies, he looks at your face reading your overjoyed expression

“No scolding today ?,” you lightly chuckle noticing that he’s uncannily silent, he just scoffs as he ruffles your hair it seems that he’s thoroughly impressed, “No scolding just admiration, perhaps I should reward you hmm ?,” he smiles as he yet again caged you with his arms as you rest your back on the wall

“W-what kind of reward ?,” you whisper, your breath tickles his neck as he leans closer towards your ear grazing the skin with his lips as he travels further down towards the neck, “Would a kiss be sufficient ?, for now at least,” he whispers against your neck, the sensation sends tingles through your body

“T-that would be appreciated,” you reply, resting your hand on his broad chest, he merely smiles before looking back towards your face, cupping your cheek before leaning in for a gentle kiss

“How delectable,”

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio hsr #dr ratio fluff #dr. ratio #dr. ratio x reader #dr. ratio fluff

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thenerdykneazle · 5 months

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Amorous Tension

Summary: Poppy is quite sure her best friend has feelings for our favourite heir of Slytherin. MC is quite sure she doesn't, despite abundant evidence to the contrary. When Ominis asks MC to help him study for an upcoming potions exam, she jumps at the chance. TL;DR: Two idiots in love brew amortentia together.

A collab with the lovely @darch7995, who created the audio version of this story. Listen to the first part here and the second here.

Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Warnings: the mildest of hand kinks, kissing, a surprising amount of schoolwork, stressing about exams, failure to communicate

Word count: 4185

You tapped your quill anxiously on the edge of your parchment, forming an ever-growing blot of ink in the margin. You were re-reading a paragraph in Flesh-Eating Trees of the World on a South American anteater-eating shrub. The words made as little of an impression in your mind as they had the first time.

A hand settled on top of yours, startling you.

“You’re going to put a hole in the table if you keep that up. And I doubt Madam Scribner would be pleased,” Poppy said teasingly.

You sighed, setting down the quill before dropping your head onto the table. “I’m going to fail. I know nothing. Less than nothing, even. Garlick is going to laugh me out of the greenhouse,” you said hopelessly.

Poppy rubbed your back comfortingly. “No, she’s not,” she assured you.

You let out a frustrated groan. “I’m never learning the difference between Jacaranda muscipula and Delonix geogalinivorae. They’re both just bloodthirsty ferns.”

A smooth voice came from behind you. “Jacaranda muscipula is native to South America, and its diet consists largely of deer mice. Delonix geogalinivorae is found in Madagascar and feeds exclusively on tenrecs.”

Your head shot up off the table. “Ominis,” you said in a higher pitch than you’d intended. You twisted in your chair to see your aristocratic classmate standing there looking effortlessly flawless.

“Hello, MC, Poppy,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I take it you’re dreading Garlick’s exam as much as Sebastian is.”

You scrunched your nose. “More, probably,” you said dismally.

“Well, I had come to see if you might be able to help me study for Sharp’s exam on Monday,” he said. “I could help you with herbology after. Of course, I’d be happy to help even if you don’t have time for potions practice.”

You gaped at him. He was asking you for help? Amit and Sebastian both had top grades in potions. You’d taken to it quite well, but the two boys had several more years of experience than you did. Garreth knew every ingredient and recipe inside and out, though he almost never stuck to the instructions – you could see why Ominis wouldn’t have asked him for help.

Your stomach leapt at the idea of spending time at the bench – just you and Ominis, brushing elbows at the cosy workspace. It was always dizzying being in such close proximity – the effect of his expensive cologne, surely.

Poppy would probably argue differently. She’d just been pestering you just that morning about your alleged feelings for the sarcastic Slytherin.

“You’re the biggest flirt I’ve ever met, MC,” Poppy said, rolling her eyes as you walked to the Great Hall.

Garreth had just been talking to you out in the courtyard about needing to acquire Thornback Matriarch venom for a new potion he was working on. You had told him he’d probably be better equipped than you were at charming the ladies into giving him what he wanted.

“I think you’re jealous and just need to ask the Gryffindor out, already,” you argued, shooting her a quelling look. “I was just being funny.”

“Mhmm,” she replied sceptically. “Well, I think it’s funny how I’ve seen you flirt with Garreth, Leander, Sebastian, Amit, and even Imelda, but when a certain serpent with stormy eyes and chiselled cheekbones comes around, you turn into a frightened little puffskein. You go all ruddy-faced and start stammering.”

She was poorly suppressing a smirk as she looked at you.

You scoffed. “I do not stammer!”

“Yeah, and I don’t fancy Garreth,” she replied sarcastically. “Admit it, you’ve got a crush on Ominis.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you asserted, glaring at her.

She raised a hand to her lips to stifle a giggle. “Then why’s your face match Garreth’s luscious locks right now?”

“Oh, shut it!” you said, increasing your pace so that Poppy fell behind.

She just laughed at you. “You’re only proving my point, you know!” she called after you.

Poppy elbowed you sharply between your ribs. You’d gone far too long without replying. “Ow!” you hissed at her.

Ominis had a nervous look on his face. “Sorry?” he asked.

“Oh, no, that wasn’t at you,” you said quickly. “I mean, I’d love to study with you.”

His expression immediately brightened. “Wonderful! When are you free?” he said.

“How about now?” you suggested as you began to pack up your things.

“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt,” Ominis said.

“No, it’s fine,” you insisted. You shot Poppy a reproachful look. “I’m suddenly feeling unsafe here in the library.”

Poppy stuck her tongue out at you. “Yes, I need to go help Professor Howin feed the thestrals, anyway. You two have fun,” she said much too giddily.

You sent her one more glare as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “So, shall we use the Room of Requirement?” you asked Ominis.

“That sounds perfect!” he replied brightly.

You led Ominis out of the library and started the long climb up to the 7th floor of the astronomy tower. You were glad to stretch your legs after sitting in the library for so long.

“I don’t know how you can keep those carnivorous trees straight in your head,” you commented as you strode down a long corridor. “They look exactly the same to me when they’re not in bloom.”

“Do they?” he replied, sounding intrigued.

For a moment, you wanted to sink through the floor. Obviously, the fact that the two trees looked alike was of little consequence to him. “Sorry, I wasn’t even thinking.”

Ominis chuckled. “It’s all right,” he said, clearly amused. “It’s strange to think that they seem so similar to you. They feel quite different. The jacaranda tree has very rough bark, and the geogalinivore has waxy leaves. Plus, it has a sweet smell – sort of like oranges.”

“That’s actually very helpful. Thank you,” you said.

He smiled softly at you. You couldn’t help but notice how one of the beauty marks on his left cheek disappeared into his dimple when he smiled. “I’m glad to be of service,” he replied.

You could feel your face flush, though you had no reason to be blushing. You were relieved when you reached the 7th floor and the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. You cleared your throat. “Right, well, we’re h-here,” you said, cringing at yourself for tripping over the words.

Ominis held the door open for you as you entered the Room of Requirement. “I appreciate you helping me practice. Sharp’s class was hard enough when I knew what I’d be expected to brew. Having to prepare to make any one of four potions has been quite stressful.”

“It is a bit ridiculous,” you agreed as you started pulling ingredients out of your cabinet.

“Honestly! It’s hard enough keeping the ingredients for one potion straight – let alone for the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, Draught of Living Death, Veritaserum, and Amortentia,” he said.

“It is a lot,” you said. “Where should we start?”

“Hm…Well, I don’t think I would be very productive after testing potions for sleep or euphoria. We’d best leave those for later,” he replied. “What do you think? Amortentia or Veritaserum?”

“Amortentia’s easy enough to test. We can tell if it’s right just by how it looks and smells. Let’s start with that,” you suggested.

Ominis smirked. “You just don’t want me getting you to spill all your secrets,” he teased.

You chuckled. “You’re right; I don’t,” you agreed honestly. You weren’t exactly a secretive person ever since you didn’t have to hide your ancient magic anymore. However, the thought of not being ableto hide anything if you wanted to was terrifying.

“Amortentia it is, then!” Ominis said. “It’s the one I’m best at, anyway.”

He lit the flame to heat the cauldron before beginning to grind the moonstone with a mortar and pestle.

“So, what does Amortentia smell like to you?” he asked, chatting as he worked.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted as you leaned a hip against the bench.

“What do you mean you’re not sure? Were you holding your breath when we brewed it last week?” he teased. He cracked two ashwinder eggs into the cauldron before adding the powdered moonstone and stirring it together.

“No! I just…Well, I guess it’s that it doesn’t smell like anything to me,” you admitted.

“You must be joking. Surely you smelled something,” he replied incredulously.

“Just the usual musky dungeon,” you joked. “I thought I’d just brewed it wrong at first, but yours didn’t smell like anything to me, either.”

His brows drew together. “That is curious. I know I made mine right, because it…Well, it worked for me,” he said, his cheeks colouring a bit. “Do you just not find anyone attractive, then?” he added casually as he began cutting the thorns off of some rose stems.

“I don’t know. I mean, I used to think I did, but…now I’m not so sure,” you replied. “I don’t know what could be wrong with me to not smell anything if I did like someone.”

“I’m certain there’s nothing wrong with you, MC,” Ominis replied.

You sighed. “I hope not,” you replied before biting your bottom lip anxiously. “I thought maybe everyone was lying about smelling different things, and it’s really just an odourless potion. But I checked three different texts in the library, and they all said the same thing Professor Sharp did about the smell being unique to what each person finds attractive.”

“It’s definitely not odourless,” Ominis replied with a smirk. He shook his head as if to snap himself out of something before clearing his throat. He turned his attention back to the potion.

He added the thorns to the cauldron before beginning on the petals. You watched his hands as he plucked the petals off the stems, stacked them neatly, and rolled them together before slicing them into thin, even strips. He was quite skilled in his technique. Despite sharing a bench in potions all year, you’d never really noticed how fluidly he worked. There was an almost entrancing nature to the graceful movements.

“So, what does it smell like to you?” you inquired as you forced yourself to stop staring at the veins winding over his wrists and across the backs of his hands out to his slender fingers. You had always thought there was something nice about his hands.

“Oh, there is no way I’m admitting that,” he replied.

“But I told you when you asked,” you argued.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Nothing doesn’t count as an answer.”

“But it’s the truth! I can’t help that I didn’t smell anything,” you argued.

“I’m still not telling,” he insisted. He added the rose petals to the potion. His brow furrowed as his fingers skimmed over the fronts of several bottles. “Which is the pearl dust?”

“Third from the right,” you said before letting out a laugh as a realisation struck you.

“What?” he asked a bit defensively. “Did I grab the wrong one?” He shook the sealed bottle by his ear to listen to its contents shift within.

“No, that’s the pearl dust. I just…” You giggled again, and his scowl deepened. “I just realised that’s the last ingredient and the first thing I’ve helped you with. Seems like you barely need me here.”

He relaxed almost instantly, even laughing a bit himself. “Well, it’s much easier to brew here,” he explained. “I know which ingredients are which when they’re in my own containers – and even most of yours at this point – but almost all of Sharp’s bottles are identical. I have to figure out what’s in each one every time I pick it up. Sometimes it takes four or five tries to find what I’m looking for. It wastes so much time.”

“That sounds extremely frustrating,” you said sympathetically.

“It is,” he lamented as he added a spoonful of pearl dust to the cauldron. He stirred it clockwise three times before lowering the flame. “There! It should just need to simmer for a bit, and then we’ll see how it turned out.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” you said as you settled into a high-backed chair, kicking your feet up on the ottoman in front of it.

“I appreciate your confidence in me,” he said. “You know, I was even worse at potions when I was younger. I tried summoning the ingredients to myself in the early years, and it was usually a disaster. In first year, we had to brew a burn salve during our exams, and I simply could not find the dittany, even after sifting through all the ingredients on my bench three times. I gave up and summoned it, and it knocked over all the bottles in front of it on its way to me. They rolled all over the bench, and I had nearly plunged my hand straight into my cauldron trying to put them back in order. During another exam, I tried to summon flobberworm mucus, and all the bottles of the stuff came flying towards me at the same time.” He laughed. “It was all over me, my bench, the floor. Amit nearly slipped in it trying to come over and help. Professor Sharp was livid, but I think he felt too badly for me to give me detention.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, as well. “Oh, I’d have died on the spot!” you said.

“I nearly did. It was utterly horrifying,” he said. “I pretended to be sick for three days after that because I couldn’t stand the thought of facing everyone. I even had Sebastian bring me food so that I didn’t have to go out to the Great Hall. But I’ve learned to bounce back from my Blind Boy Moments quite quickly since.”

“Could Sharp not just label the ingredients for you?” you asked.

Ominis scoffed. “No, he insists that every good potions student should be able to identify the ingredients on their own,” he said, exasperated. “He wouldn’t even let me come in beforehand to label them myself because other students might see them. He also won’t let me use my own containers because it’s all got to be ‘standardised’ so it’s fair.”

“Well, that’s quite the opposite of fair! He’s putting you at a disadvantage,” you said. You could feel yourself getting angry on Ominis’s behalf.

“I am perfectly capable of identifying the ingredients. Just because I can’t see them doesn’t mean I’m incompetent,” he said bitterly.

You were taken aback as his ire turned toward you. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you are, Ominis, I swear!” you said earnestly. “It just seems unreasonable that he won’t accommodate you at all. It’s so frustrating. I have an uncle who’s blind. He wasn’t born that way – he had an accident. And he’s a Muggle. So…it’s a bit different, obviously. But he’s worked in kitchens all his life. When he first went blind, he couldn’t cook anymore. But his boss’s wife, Marjorie, was blind, too. She taught him how to navigate the kitchen again without being able to see. They made adjustments to things so he could keep working there.”

“You have a blind uncle?” he asked, seeming shocked.

“Almost all my life. He married my aunt when I was just a baby,” you explained. “He cooks even better than a house-elf, too! Don’t tell Feenky I said that, though. Or Deek, for that matter.”

“I can’t believe you have a blind uncle,” Ominis said, still stunned.

“Really?” you asked. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never met another blind person,” he said.

“Never?” you said, surprised.

“Not once,” he confirmed. “My parents weren’t exactly looking to find me a support group. It’s exceptionally rare in the wizarding world, anyway. So, they sort of just kept me hidden away until school. They hadn’t even expected I’d get a letter even though I clearly had magic. It wasn’t until I figured out how to navigate by wand that they stopped treating me like a doll instead of a child. Even my Aunt Noctua was rather overbearing. No one ever believed I could do something myself until I showed them I could.”

“I can’t imagine how difficult it was going through all of that on your own,” you said.

Ominis gave a haughty huff. “Yes, well, I think I’ve done all right for myself,” he said firmly, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

“You’ve done more than all right, I’d say,” you argued. “Which reminds me, you still have to tutor me in herbology after this.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry; I haven’t forgotten,” he said.

“You’d better not have,” you said sternly. Your severe expression didn’t last, though. You couldn’t help but smile around him. “Wait, so, if you didn’t have anyone to help you figure things out, did you invent the spell that lets you read books?”

“Ah, well, I suppose I wasn’t entirely on my own. Sebastian found that spell in an old tome in the library. Some languorous 17th-century scholar grew weary of having to keep his eyes open whilst reading,” he replied. “It worked quite well in my favour.”

“If there’s one thing Sebastian excels at, it’s research,” you replied.

“Yes, and it’s been both a blessing and a curse in my life,” he said irritably.

“I feel the same,” you said wearily.

Ominis spun back toward the potions station. “It smells like the potion’s ready,” he announced.

You got up and walked over to inspect it. “Mother-of-pearl sheen. Perfect spirals of steam. Excellent work, indeed, Ominis.”

He blushed at your praise. “Any essence of musky dungeon emanating from it?” he joked.

You laughed. You leaned over the cauldron and breathed in deeply to play along. “Oh,” you said, caught off guard by the smell. “Yeah, actually. It…” You took in another breath. It was masked beneath the cologne Ominis was wearing, but you could distinctly smell the cool, earthy scent that permeated the lower levels of the castle. “It does.”

“Merlin, MC! You don’t have a crush on Professor Sharp, do you?” he asked, aghast.

“Gods, no!” you replied immediately. “It’s not the dungeons, anyway. It’s different. But…familiar.”

You tried to smell it again, but it was still too hard to tell. You hadn’t realised earlier just how strong Ominis’s cologne was that day. Usually, you found the scent rather pleasant, but, currently, it was making it extremely difficult to smell anything else. You grabbed a phial and poured some of the potion into it. “I can’t tell what it is. I need to smell it in fresh air.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I smell foul?” Ominis demanded as you walked away from him.

“No, not at all,” you said before taking another sniff of the potion. “It’s just that your–”

Your voice died in your throat as two realisations struck you simultaneously. The first was that the earthy scent you had identified was the exact smell of the Undercroft. The second was that you still smelled Ominis’s cologne just as strongly even though you were on the opposite side of the room from him. The phial slipped from your hand and shattered on the wood floor.

“Are you all right?” Ominis asked, rushing over to you in a panic. “Did the potion burn you? I heard glass break. Did you get cut?”

He took both of your hands in his to feel for any injuries. The tips of his fingers brushed gently over your skin, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

“Sorry, no, I’m fine. I just–I hadn’t realised…something,” you said. You heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Poppy had been right. You did fancy Ominis.

Ominis released one of your hands to raise his to your cheek. “Are you certain that you’re okay, MC?” he asked.

Your skin burned hot under his touch. “Y-yes, of course. I was just surprised when I placed the smell,” you said.

He tilted his head in interest. “Oh? What is it?” he asked.

You bit into your lower lip, keeping yourself silent as you wavered on whether to confess. He did seem to be rather doting at the moment. You wondered if he might return your affections.

“Perhaps I should’ve brewed the Veritaserum first, after all,” Ominis joked. “Maybe then I could finally get you to tell me what you smell.”

You laughed. “That’s not necessary. I just…Well, I’m pretty sure it’s, um…the Undercroft,” you said. Your nerves increased with every word, but you felt a flood of relief after getting them all out.

“Oh,” Ominis said uncomfortably. His whole body went rigid before his hands dropped away from you. “I…I see.”

“Ominis, I…” you started, trying and failing to figure out how to take the words back. You imagined the mortification you were experiencing was similar to how he had felt standing covered in flobberworm mucus in front of his peers.

“Well, I suppose I should still tell you what I smell, since you told me what you do,” he said sombrely. “Though, I can’t imagine it will be all that surprising.” He took a steadying breath. “It smells like old parchment, like those dusty pages Professor Weasley had you collecting last year. And I smell the mallowsweet you always carry around with you. And your shampoo. I always smell it when you hug me or fall asleep with your head on my shoulder.” He cleared his throat. “So…there you have it.”

“Are you upset about this?” you asked, bewildered by his tense reaction.

He forced a laugh. “What? No, of course not!” he insisted, but it wasn’t quite convincing. “I’m happy for you.”

“Happy for me?” you repeated, even more confused.

“Both of you, I mean,” he clarified, giving you a pained smile. “Although I’ve never asked Sebastian about his feelings toward you, with the way he flirts with you, I’m sure he reciprocates.”

“You think I fancy Sebastian?” you asked.

“Well, he’s the one who showed you the Undercroft,” he replied simply.

“Ominis, you’re the one he learned about it from. You’re the one I hang out with there. It’s rosewood and jasmine from your cologne that I smell in that bloody potion!” you said.

His brows knit together in confusion. “I thought you just smelled the Undercroft?” he said.

“Well, that’s what I thought when I was standing next to you – and in class last week,” you said. “You were right there, so I didn’t realise the smell of you was coming from the cauldron instead of…you know…you.”

His features went slack. “Oh…” he said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” you replied similarly.

“I’m a massive idiot,” he said, shaking his head at himself.

You smiled. “Yeah,” you said. “We kind of both are, aren’t we?”

“It would appear so,” he agreed. He laughed as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Well, this has certainly been an illuminating study session.”

You melted into him instantly. “Indeed, it has.”

“You smell wonderful, you know,” he said as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

You giggled in response. “You smell quite nice, as well,” you replied.

“I taste even better,” he said cheekily.

Your gaze immediately dropped to his lips. “Is that so?” you asked, your voice coming out husky.

“I can prove it if you’d like,” he said. His breath fanned over your lips as he spoke.

“Yes, I think you should,” you replied. “For…educational purposes.”

Ominis’s lips brushed against yours almost tentatively before he leaned in to interlock them. His heat sank into your body as he held you firmly against his chest. You snaked your arms up behind his neck as you kissed him back. Being held by Ominis – and kissed by him – felt right. You wanted to stay wrapped in his arms forever. If you could’ve, you would have fused into him so you never had to be apart again.

You didn’t know how long it was before Ominis broke the kiss, but you knew it was too soon. “I still have to return the favour for you helping me with potions,” he said.

“Yes, right. The herbology,” you replied, still breathless from the kiss. You had forgotten about those bloody shrubs altogether.

“Actually, I was thinking we should work on divination, instead,” he said innocently, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

You arched a brow at him. “Oh?” you asked. “Are you even taking divination?”

“No. I can’t exactly read tea leaves or look in a crystal ball,” he stated. The smirk spread on his lips. “But if I could, I’d see me in your future.”

You laughed. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sebastian,” you chided. “His terrible jokes are rubbing off on you.”

“You’re absolutely right, darling!” he said with a false gravity to the words. “I’d like to fix that as soon as possible by spending more time with you, instead.”

“I’d like that,” you said, unable to stop beaming at him.

“Me, too. Especially if it involves kissing you again,” he said.

You blushed. “I think that could be arranged,” you replied.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt fanfic #ominis gaunt fanfiction #amortentia #poppy sweeting #garreth weasley #he's featured more in the audio though

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teabutmakeitazure · 1 year

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Congratulations on 1000 followers, 1000 mouths to feed, and 2000 watchful eyes (｢• ω •)｢ Couldn't happen to a better writer ♡

I saw you sneak Illumi on that list. I am very frightened of the needle man. Can I request something with the first time Illumi realizes he is obsessed with darling?

Perforate and Permeate

>Yan! Illumi x Fem! Reader

>Word count: ~3.4k

Red flags start appearing in the form of odd piercings on taxi drivers. The feeling of something horribly off surrounds you, but in the end, some people are always powerless, aren't they?

The first red flag of the evening was the creepy taxi driver. There seemed to be some sort of yellow ball stuck to the skin on his neck, and his movements and speech were somewhat robotic. The second red flag was that he offered you a ride without you even calling for one.

Thankfully, the evening rush hour helped you get away from the peculiar man, and you slid into the subway train, hidden and safe among the numerous people around you. Ironically enough, it felt a little hypocritical to find comfort among the number of people since you were always adverse to crowds. The smell of sweat and close proximity of human beings made you a little nauseous, but right now it felt safe.

The third red flag comes in the form of your apartment building’s watchman being absent. He never takes a day off and always ensures that the other watchman - the man who usually works as the receptionist since for some reason there’s a desk and everything in the lobby - takes his place while he’s away for food or such.

Neither men were there and as you press the elevator button to your floor, you catch a shadow in the corner of your eye before the doors close. The fourth red flag is that your apartment windows are open. Not all of them, but the living room windows are open. You’re absolutely certain you had left them closed when you left. You could even swear on it.

Nevertheless, some sort of dismissive hope deludes you into believing that the wind opened them and you don’t dare come any closer. The reminder to check their locks is pushed into the back of your mind when you fall onto your bed face first. Silence envelopes you, its warm hands granting you the comfort of your home.

Despite how quick the comfort came, all relaxation leaves your bones when your phone rings. As you accept the call and press your phone to your ear, you realise you almost drifted off. Your mother’s voice greets you before turning into a scolding one when you tell her you just got home.

The conversation goes as it usually does, your nerves calming down despite the subtle feeling of not being alone. You don’t blame your scepticism. Ever since you moved out, you’ve always been careful and paranoid. Maybe it has to do with preferring silence and being around less people, but you don’t like the lonesomeness and silence as much as you thought you did.

You say goodbye to your mother on the phone, and sit up, groggily making your way to the kitchen. The silence of the apartment unnerves you, so you turn on your phone’s flashlight and check every single room and cupboard of the house, leaving all the light bulbs on.

The apartment is now fully illuminated and the TV plays some random news show while you cook. It makes for good white noise and you don’t feel as alone anymore.

But you still feel watched.

The curtains are promptly drawn over the windows.

Thankfully, the feeling goes but quickly returns when you sit down to eat dinner. The panic that arises constricts your throat, heart beating in your throat and you immediately dial your mother again, praying that the paranoia dies down.

It doesn’t. She never picks up.

Three phone calls later, she picks up but excuses herself saying that she’s going out for lunch with your father. The time zone difference makes you frown, realising that you're ruining her weekend with your baseless paranoia.

Dinner gets your attention back, but something seems to have its attention on you.

You're cognizant of the sounds coming from the street, television muted. The drip drip from the kitchen sink sings the vocals while the refrigerator buzzes the music. Exhaling, you pay attention to the noisy details, dinner finished and an empty plate in front of you.

The feeling goes away soon, but comfort doesn't return.

The first red flag of today's evening follows behind you. A man with his hoodie hiding half his face is trailing behind you, and you're briefly wondering how dense he must be to not realise that you're leading him in a circle for the fourth time. You don't mind the extra walking, but it's pretty annoying.

Should you lead him to a police station? Losing him doesn't seem to be an option. He's persistent. Even in the fifth circle, he's casually walking behind you.

You go ahead with making your way to a nearby station, but he slips away when it's in sight. Your eyes watch the man as he heads the other way, an uneasy feeling stirring in your chest at the loss of someone's eyes on you. As you make your way back to the subway station, you contemplate walking home instead. Maybe you could drop by a café or even pick up dinner from somewhere.

However, a second red flag appears while you are in your thoughts. A taxi stops in front of you when you're scrounging around your bag for your phone and the window pulls down to reveal a taxi driver with a strange yellow piercing between his eyebrows.

The driver offers you a ride, and you stare at him dumbfounded. You didn't call for a taxi. A few passer-bys send you confused looks, but you brush it off. The man is promptly shut down and you walk away, mentally cursing yourself over the lack of crowd on the street.

Almost as though on cue, a lady grabs your arm. Her grip is unyielding and she frantically explains how you need to come with her. A familiar yellow piercing on either side of her neck greets you when you turn to look at her, but any composure you have quickly dissipates when she starts pulling you.

It takes everything you have in you to pry yourself off and run in the other direction. The few people that did stare at you turn away when they see you running, and honestly you don't blame them. No one wants to get tangled up in something like that.

By the time your legs start hurting, you're almost home. There's no time to pick up anything from a restaurant so you make a mental note to order in instead. As you walk with your phone in hand, the situation dawn's on you. Three red flags already. You don't even want to know what the fourth one will be.

But alas, the heavens never hear your silent pleas and the fourth red flag stands in the watchman-less lobby of your apartment building. You hadn't seen either men today as well, and simply seeing the person who casually leans against the wall with eyes fixed on you is making your heart do literal backflips inside your chest.

"[Name]."

The simple greeting makes you freeze. Hands grip your bag tighter as you look into his bottomless eyes and greet him back with a simple hello. He doesn't seem to mind your nervousness and gets straight to the point.

"I wanted to see you. It's been quite a while."

Your finger remains on the power button of your phone, ready to press it five times at the earliest notice to send SOS messages to your friends. Upon receiving no response, he continues, trying not to eye your deathly grips on your belongings.

"How was your day?"

"It was… fine." Voice meek, you don't know what to say to him. It's not everyday you see a person such as himself. "How… have you been, Illumi?"

The question seems to perk him up. "I'm not quite sure, but I suppose I've been alright. I do want to ask you something. Why are you holding your phone and bag so tightly?"

The muscles on your legs go taut, and you briefly glance at the elevator door thinking you could make a run for it. However, the reminder of Illumi's occupation mocks you. Of course a hunter wouldn't let you go so easily.

"I'm not sure." Your words are unsure as you speak. "I guess I'm not feeling very well."

"Should I get you medical attention?"

"No. Not that kind of not very well. I just feel a bit down, that's all."

He seems to have understood something because he's nodding. "I see. If there's nothing wrong with your physical health, it'll go away. Make sure to rest properly and you'll feel better."

"Thanks. I'll go to bed early tonight."

"Are you free right now?"

Free? Does he want something? You're no help to a hunter. "I'd like to get to bed as soon as possible, but I'm willing to hear you out."

Your grip on your phone loosens a bit, and Illumi immediately takes a few steps closer. Hardly a foot of space is left between the two of you, but before apprehension can return, he's demanding all your attention with his words.

"May I have your phone number?"

What?

"My… phone number?"

He nods. "Yes. Your phone number."

The dumbfounded look on your face makes him blink at you owlishly.

"I was wondering whether or not it would be appropriate for me to ask for it. I suppose I settled with ignoring the thought."

Did he… really just admit that?

"Um, alright. I don't see why not." You know where I live anyway, the voice in your head continues.

You share your contact information with Illumi, but you have no idea why he wants it. His intentions are as clear as muddy water. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but if nothing, at least he asked you for it. With his licence, he could have obtained your number with ease like how he ended up in your apartment's lobby. You give him only a few points for human decency.

When he’s done saving your information on his phone, a satisfied look is on his face. The silence of the lobby remains as you wait for him to finally let you leave. That is to say he doesn’t request to visit your apartment.

“I think that’ll do.” Illumi looks up, head tilting slightly when he sees your exhausted expression. “You should rest. I won’t stop you. Just seeing you this evening is enough for me. We can talk some other time.”

Talk? What would you both even talk about? The only reason you know him is because some target of his was your work client and he scared him off. Honestly, never hearing from that man again is one of the best things that happened in your life.

“Sure,” you reply with a very obviously unsure voice. “I’ll see you later then.”

Illumi waves you off and as you step towards the elevator, you feel a little shameful for not inviting him for dinner. But then you remember that you live alone and he’s an adult man. Perhaps it’s better to not do so.

As you press the button, you glance back at Illumi down the lobby. He's waving at you, so you wave back. The door starts to close and the expression on Illumi's face changes. Lips curl upwards, eyes crinkling as well.

When the door closes, you're thankful for the distance. You never want to see that horrifying grin on his face again. It sent shivers down your spine and it seems like the creepy smile is now engraved into your brain.

Had you not been in the elevator, you would've ran out the lobby. Perhaps some people are better off expressionless after all.

It's been an entire day since Illumi took your number. There's been no contact, no message, nothing. As you stare at your phone sitting in front of you on the sofa, you think back over today's evening bitterly.

There was another taxi driver with the same yellow piercing. Added to that, an old woman with the same piercing had approached you and asked to walk her home. You declined. Though it felt bad to say no to an old lady, you didn't want to possibly find any unwanted trouble.

Besides, there's something definitely wrong going on. After the old lady, you found the watchman in the lobby. Even he had a piercing on his face, in between his forehead to be precise.

You didn't bother to reply to his greeting this time. There was something off about his smile.

Maybe you should move out as soon as possible.

However, that's not what's bothering you. It's the fact that there have always been four red flags. This evening, you only came across three.

The thought of an impending fourth one makes you feel nauseous. You're home now, back to safety. There has never been anything bad between these four walls, so why would there be anything now?

Maybe you missed counting a fourth one. Yes. That's it. You just missed one red flag. The thought doesn't do much to console you, but it's enough to allow you to sleep when your head hits the pillow. Unfortunately for you, that doesn't last very long.

The feeling of a pair of eyes wakes you up with a startle. You immediately throw away the covers and run to the switch, turning on the lights. Nothing. The same goes for the rest of your apartment. All the lights are on but there’s nothing out of place.

Are you going crazy?

It must have been a bad dream. You still feel watched, but that’s just because you just woke up. Water. You need some water.

The glass is quickly emptied as soon as you fill it, and now you stand alone in the kitchen, the silence of the night and the refrigerator’s hum your only companions. The kitchen counter is cold underneath your lingering fingertips, and begrudgingly, you part with it.

Sleep doesn't come back easily. At least half an hour must’ve passed with no sign of slumber’s gentle embrace, so you get up and turn off the bedroom light. The door is then left open only a little bit to let some light from the living room bleed inside the room.

It doesn’t help much, but your eyes feel less burdened.

Upon turning to the other side and nuzzling into the sheets further, the lessened burden seems to increase again. There’s someone resting their face on the mattress, body probably sitting on the floor and this person’s eyes seem to be fixed on you.

It takes you blinking a few times and sitting up to realise this isn’t a dream.

By the time your eyes have completely blinked away any sleep, a hand is slapped over your mouth to stop you from screaming. Your chest heaves as you follow the arm to the body it’s attached to and finally the face.

Illumi.

“Pardon me if I woke you up. It wasn’t my intention.”

The mattress dips as he joins you on the bed. If the circumstance wasn’t unfortunate enough, he’s now literally hovering over you with one of his knees between your parted legs under the blanket. Long black hair cascades around his face as he leans in, large eyes observing your features.

You blink at him as your breathing settles down. The lack of action from Illumi’s end does help your nerves calm down a little, but the threat of an obviously more powerful man literally above still remains.

This is your fourth red flag.

The weight of his observant stare weighs you down, the feeling of a boulder on your chest making you sink backwards into the bed. All that you see are Illumi’s large, dark eyes. It’s suffocating and you want to scream, but the sound dies in your throat before he even lets go.

You don’t dare make a single noise as he sits up straight on your thighs.

Illumi briefly breaks eye contact, eyes dropping down to your collarbones peeking from your neckline from the dishevelled state before his eyes go back up to yours. The weight of the boulder had lifted during that time, but with his eyes back on you that weight goes to your consciousness.

“I suppose I should commend you for not screaming. Seems like you’re quick to understand.”

All he gets in reply is your nervous gulp.

“You require an explanation, don’t you?”

This time, he tilts his head at your lack of response.

“I gave myself an ultimatum. Four tries every evening for every working day of this week are all I have to work with. If your refusals of my lenient methods bother me, then I must get to the bottom of the feeling. If I am not bothered in the slightest, I must stop wasting my time.” Iluumi pauses, possibly in anticipation of some sort of response, but continues. “I suppose my presence here at this hour explains which conclusion I had come to.”

He waits again for a few moments but ends up explaining his own words himself when you’re still frozen in what he thinks is shock. “Your refusals bothered me. I can’t be certain why. Even your less enthusiastic response to me asking for your phone number bothered me.”

You’re still staring at him. Mind barely processing the words. Illumi is in your room in the middle of the night. Illumi is a hunter, a potentially dangerous person, and he’s caged you to your own bed. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever been in your life, yet you can’t even bring yourself to cry over the absolute fear you feel because of the intensity that keeps growing and radiating from Illumi.

“You occupy my thoughts more than I would prefer, and the only cure I found for that is to watch you when you’re home. No other activity soothes it.”

His index finger and thumb hold his chin as he continues thinking over the matter, but his eyes are still fixed onto you. When his eyes widen slightly, the intensity you felt grows dramatically and you have to reflexively cover yourself till the top of your head with the blanket to not end up asphyxiated.

A hand gently pulls down the cover till your chin, and luckily, the intensity mellows enough to allow you to breathe.

“I came here tonight to understand why trying to sleep on my own causes me distress. It’s like I search for you in my own bed, and the lack of your presence makes me restless.”

He leans in, hands sinking into the mattress on either side of your hips and you instinctively shrink into yourself. Voice perfectly even, the tone betrays the depth of his words. “I talked to my mother about this feeling and came to a conclusion. I’m in love with you.”

Sweat starts to bead at your forehead, but Illumi’s eyes refuse to allow you any reprieve. One of his hands sneak up your body, fingertips gently tracing the outline till his hand lightly wraps around your throat. The grip is non-existent but the threat of a not so well meaning squeeze still exists.

“All I need to do is squeeze. A fragile human such as yourself would give in to death in under ten seconds if I do decide to test my grip. However, even the mere thought of it bothers me. Even now, I can’t bring myself to hurt you.”

The hand moves further upwards, cupping your cheek despite the sweat. “At first I thought you were using some kind of Nen to bewitch me, so imagine my surprise when I found out that you’re a non-user.”

You finally manage to shakily exhale through your mouth, but the beating in your heart suddenly becomes too loud when his thumb traces the edges of your lips.

“I thought I should kill you to get rid of your spell, but the thought of you not existing anymore made my chest ache.” Illumi sighs. “Seems like the damage has been done, and it’s quite a lot. With how the majority of my thoughts are about you, I could even claim that I’m obsessed.”

The intensity grows again, and it gets even harder to breathe in the cool room. When Illumi’s thumb forces your lips open and presses down on your tongue, you can only hope you’ll be safe. After all, the look in his eyes is absolutely frightening.

#thank you for the request #it was fun lol #AzureTea requests #yandere hunter x reader #hunter x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #illumi x reader #yandere illumi x reader #yandere illumi #why does the title sound like macrophages doing their everyday job

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megalony · 7 months

Text

My Squad

This is a dad! Evan Buckley imagine I am thinking of turning into a series if anyone would be interested in reading it. Any feedback or ideas are always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

911 Masterlist

Summary: Evan hasn't been with the team long and has kept his family a secret, but now he is ready for the team to meet his daughters. All of them.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evan loved his job.

Out of all the other odd jobs, random placements and painful experiences he had worked at throughout the years, being a fireman was his calling. It was the one job he felt so at home and eager to do and proud of. And it was the first time he had felt like his colleagues were his family.

But despite feeling like the team were his family, Evan made a quick decision not to tell them about the family he had waiting for him at home when he clocked out each shift.

There were different reasons he didn't tell the team. They all knew he was married, that was something Evan had to disclose in his interview since (Y/n) was his emergency contact so if something happened, she would be able to find him at the hospital if a situation ever arose. But he didn't tell them the rest.

Hen thought of him as a playboy, she'd made that clear from the start and maybe that was just due to the impression Evan gave off. He looked carefree and he was daring and hot headed and passionate when he did his job, his attitude was loving but not exactly the image of a family man. So Hen didn't think Evan was 'dad material' and he didn't take it to heart, he knew looks could be deceiving.

Chimney seemed to think Evan was putting up a front, he was always commenting on how if Evan had a wife waiting at home- he had never met (Y/n) so was slightly sceptical if Evan actually was married or not- he could be so daring in the job. He was first to climb the ladder or run into a burning building.

He didn't understand that it was in Evan's nature to be quick thinking and push forward and do whatever he could to help and think of the consequences afterwards. And at the front of Evan's mind was always his family, he didn't rush into things without considering them. Chimney didn't know this, he didn't see it.

For Bobby, Evan got the impression his captain thought he was young and quite like a puppy, still finding his way in life and working out what he was doing. Bobby thought of Evan as his kid, he thought of him as younger than he really was.

And Eddie, he was still the newbie to the team. He was working them all out and getting into their way of things and getting to know them. Evan didn't give the same 'dad vibes' as Eddie.

No one knew about his children.

He did hint, once or twice, about who he was going home to and what he had hidden behind closed doors. But Evan didn't want to rush into things when this was the best job he'd had and the best people to work with. Evan wasn't good with change and if they knew about his family, dynamics would change. He hadn't brought his family or even (Y/n) to the Christmas party last year.

It had been the first event Evan had been to since he joined the team and he was too anxious about telling them he had a family to actually break the news and bring them along. His family was his everything and he liked having a little secret at home to come back to.

He was ready now.

He was ready for the team to meet his family because he was tired of being questioned if his wife was real or just imaginary. He was tired or the team calling him a daredevil with no conscience and no rationality or consequences. If this was going to be his team and his family for the foreseeable future, he could let them into his world and let them see what he was always fighting for.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

Evan tilted his head down to the right when (Y/n)'s voice, laced with sleep, broke him out of his thoughts and changed the quiet atmosphere surrounding them. It dawned on him then that while he'd been laid on his back with his left arm behind his head, his fingers had been tapping on the headboard.

It was an old habit he couldn't break when he was deep in thought or anxious about something. It had been so automatic that he didn't even hear or feel his knuckles rapping on the wood until now.

"Sorry, just thinking," He tightened his right arm around (Y/n)'s waist, smiling to himself when he felt her move against him. Her arm crept higher over his chest until her hand was curled around his tense shoulder and her upper chest was laid over his. She nuzzled her face against his other shoulder she was laid on and pressed a butterfly kiss against his collar bone that made him shiver.

"About what?" (Y/n) feathered her fingers over his shoulder as she breathed in his scent.

She could feel his heartbeat beneath her ear and the way it pulsed through her skin like a steady drum, trying to coax her back into slumber again. Whenever Evan did a night shift, (Y/n) couldn't sleep. She was too used to laying on top of him and hearing his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

"Introducing you and the girls to the team."

"Is that what you want?" (Y/n) could feel herself waking up a little when it registered what he had said. She knew how important his family and his work family were to Evan and how he wanted them separate for the time being. But if he was ready to introduce them all, (Y/n) wasn't going to say no.

It would be lovely to put faces to the names of the people he had been telling her about. The people that kept her husband safe for her while he was at work. The people who he risked his life for and who, in turn, risked their lives for him.

"Yeah, I want them to meet you all." He reeled her into his side and pressed a sloppy kiss to her temple, unable to stop from smiling against her skin.

Maybe it was time to introduce them.

***

"Stay close girls, I don't want you wandering round here." (Y/n) eyed two of her girls closely and tilted her head at them so they knew she was being serious. The last thing she wanted was to lose the girls at the station and then an alarm go off and chaos ensued.

They had to stay close and within her sights so no trouble was caused, this was the first time the girls would see their dad at work.

It wasn't supposed to be today, but plans had changed.

"I want daddy," Ella bit her thumb, her big blue eyes doing a wide sweep of the station that looked as big as her whole school, playground included. She couldn't see her dad anywhere and she had been crying for him for the last hour. The little girl was getting restless.

"We're gonna find him now." Reaching down, (Y/n) brushed Ella's hair behind her ear before she juggled Cora a little higher on her hip. She didn't have time to struggle getting the pushchair into the car when she had to go and pick the girls up from school and now she was regretting it. She had to carry Cora around with her, lest she wanted to set her down on the floor and watch her crawl around the station and drool everywhere.

"Hi, can I help you?" Chimney stuffed his hands into his pockets, smiling brightly at the four girls he saw walking past the truck, clearly lost in the station.

"Hi… is Evan around? Is it okay if we see him?" (Y/n) smiled nervously and did another double take of the station. She could hear voices coming from the loft upstairs but she couldn't see who was up there.

"Sure, he's just upstairs… you must be Maddie, I'm Howie, but everyone calls me Chimney."

(Y/n) felt her smile melt into a more comfortable one as she walked over to him, making sure Angel and Ella were right behind her as Chimney guided them over towards the stairs. Evan had told the team he had a big sister then, at least he had opened up to them a little. (Y/n) knew he told them he was married, it was the girls he hadn't said anything about.

He didn't mention he had three of them.

"Hey Chim… do we have guests for dinner?" Bobby moved the large dish of pasta into the centre of the table before he pulled back and placed his hands on his hips. His smile was warm and inviting as he looked over the troop of girls who were stood beside chimney.

No one mentioned having family or guests popping by the station today, not that it really mattered. Anyone was welcome as long as it wasn't an inspection day or the bell didn't go off unannounced and ruin things. The station was warm and friendly, they wanted family to feel safe and comfortable coming here and being around the team.

"I think we do, this is-"

"(Y/n)?" Evan almost dropped the bottle of water he just got out the fridge when he turned around and clocked his gaze on his wife.

What was she doing here? Why did she have the girls with her? They should be at school right now.

"Surprise," She bounced Cora on her hip who gurgled, content at pulling the necklace tight in her fist and try to shove it into her mouth.

"Wait, (Y/n)?" Chimney pulled his hands from his pockets and turned at an angle to look at the woman stood beside him. She didn't correct him when he assumed she was Buck's sister Maddie. She didn't say her name or even say anything. This couldn't be the girl Buck was always telling them about, the girl Chimney had been very sure didn't actually exist. She was as beautiful as Buck always boasted.

"Daddy!" Ella could of cried when her blurry eyes finally set on the one person she had been crying out for during the past hour or so.

She pulled away from her big sister and bolted past the large table, bypassed Bobby who seemed to be in her way and made a beeline towards Evan, almost knocking him down with her force. She barelled into his arms, narrowly missing his legs when he lifted her up so she didn't rugby-tackle him down into the fridge behind him.

He lifted her up and swung her round in the air, a bright smile painting his face as he lowered her back down and snuggled her into his chest. His arms pinned her against his chest and he smothered her temple with kisses to feel her squirm and wriggle against him.

"Hi baby! Why aren't you at school?" Evan's voice was a notch higher than normal and full of surprise as he rubbed his cheek against the top of her head and shimmied side to side with his middle girl.

"Hi daddy,"

"Hi sweetie," Evan cooed back and raised his free hand to his temple before he slowly stretched his arm out in the sign for hello.

He grinned broadly when Angel trotted over and wrapped her arms around his legs, burrowing into him to get some of his attention since she was here too. She was the eldest, after all, she was the one who Evan always called his 'little angel' and not just because it was her name. She was his first born, then Ella was his middle girl who was his little double, and Cora was his youngest baby.

"Buck, care to introduce us?" Bobby clamped one hand down on his hip and reached the other out to lean against the kitchen counter.

He rose his brows and quirked a smile as Chimney stood flabbergasted, Hen sat at the table with an open mouth and shock written on her face.

And Eddie did well to hide his surprise as he made a beeline for (Y/n) and the toddler in her arms.

"Guys, this is (Y/n)," Evan pointed over to his wife who he slowly shuffled towards with Angel still clinging to his legs. "This is my eldest, Angel, then there's Ella here," He bounced her on his hip but she hid her face in his neck, too shy to look around. "And the youngest there is Cora; meet my squad."

All of them could see Evan had a proud smile, bright shining eyes and a deep chuckle hiding in his chest. These were his girls, his squad of ladies and he was proud and cherished each of them. He had his wife and three special girls to show off and now the team could see that he wasn't the reckless person they all thought he was. He was a proud dad to three girls.

"Girls, this is my captain Bobby… that's Hen, Chimney you've seen, and this is my pal Eddie."

"You didn't mention anything about this. Where have you been hiding them?" Hen spoke around her cup of coffee but she was too shocked to take another sip.

Buck; their nutter Buck was a dad. He had three children hidden away that they had no idea about.

"You don't waste much time, do you Buck?" Eddie smirked, letting his eyes drift between his friend and (Y/n) until the rest of the team looked over and it clicked in.

She was pregnant.

"I told you, this is my squad."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes but her smile gave away the slight blush and embarrassment she felt. This was exactly what they both had been expecting when the team realised that Evan wasn't even thirty yet and he already had three children, soon to become four.

Her gaze turned back to Eddie who was tickling Cora and she happily handed her toddler over when he muttered a kind 'may I?'. He moved to sit down at the table with Cora on his lap, bouncing her up and down and entertaining her like a champion.

"Now why aren't you at school?" Evan looked back down at Ella and gently brushed his thumb against her cheek to try and get her to talk to him but she stayed quiet and instead buried her face more into his neck to hide herself away.

Looking down at his eldest girl, Evan adjusted Ella a bit higher in his arms so he could raise his hands out in front of him with Ella in the crook of his elbow. He raised his left palm up and pressed his right palm down like he was making a funny clap, doing the sign language for school while he simultaneously whispered 'no school' at her. He was the one who had dropped them both off at school this morning and he knew they shouldn't have left early today which begged the question, why were they here now at lunch time?

The seven-year-old looked up at him with her doe eyes and then looked across at her mum instead.

"They gave out cookies at school but no one mentioned they had milk in them."

"Lactose intolerant?" Hen muttered quietly but she pursed her lips and realised she had to be wrong when she saw Evan's reaction. He quickly pulled Ella back and cupped her face in his palm to look down at her and examine her like he'd been told she had been shot. His fingertips skimmed across her face before going to examine her neck which made the little girl pull back with a whine.

He could see it now. He could see the dried tears staining her cheeks and the redness all around her eyes and the blotches across her cheeks and down her neck.

"Ella's allergic to milk," (Y/n) tried to smile but it was hard after the argument she'd just had with the school.

There was a laminated piece of paper in Ella's school bag that listed off her allergies and it was on her record and written down in reception and the classroom cupboard. No one could miss it or forget or not realise she had allergies. At home there was a big sticker that said 'Allergies: MILK' in bright brick red letters at the top so if anyone came round, they knew what they couldn't give to one of the girls. Then below that it listed her other allergies such as honey, lavender and plasters.

They had a section in the cupboard filled with all the biscuits and snacks Ella would eat which didn't contain milk.

Lavender brought Ella out in bright red splotches that itched and burned like she had been touched by a red hot poker. Plasters were less dramatic, they were irritating to her skin and slowly started to feel like they burned. Honey was hit and miss, it either made her chest burn and her skin blotch or she had a worse reaction and couldn't breathe.

But milk was the main allergy, anytime Ella had milk she went into anaphalactic shock. Her throat would swell and close up, her chest would ache and burn and she had to have one if not two shots of adrenaline from her EpiPen to stop the reaction.

When Ella was a baby, her allergy was less serious, they had to buy special baby powder that she could take. But as soon as she was a toddler and they tried any other form of milk, they had to take a drive down to A&E or call an ambulance.

"Did they use your EpiPen?" Evan spoke quietly, his brows still furrowed and his lips still held in a deep frown as he looked down at his daughter. He started to relax a little when Ella leaned into the palm of his hand and nuzzled her nose against his wrist making him feel more at ease but he still frowned when she nodded. She looked as if she was about to cry again but when she curled her arms around Evan's neck and he kissed her cheek, she seemed to calm down a bit more.

"I didn't know daddy, I only had one bite,"

"It's not your fault baby," He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and tightened his arms round her when she leaned her cheek on his shoulder.

The school had a list of Ella's allergies and they had two EpiPens, one in the classroom and one in the reception as a back up. She took her own pack up to school so there was no risk of anything being contaminated with milk but they should double check before they give her anything. (Y/n) had told them under no circumstances to give Ella anything that wasn't in a packet, especially cake when children brought in their birthday cake that didn't have a list of ingredients. It wasn't worth the risk when Ella had such a high allergy.

At least she was okay this time, Evan had been called before from the school saying she had two EpiPens administered and they called an ambulance as protocol.

(Y/n) got the phone call but they had been quick giving Ella her dose of adrenaline and she calmed down, started to breathe and talk just fine and when (Y/n) rushed down and checked her over, there was no need for an ambulance. But Ella was in a state and she didn't want to stay and to make things easier, she had collected Angel early as well so she didn't have to go back in a few hours and pick her up later.

The plan had been to take the girls home but Ella had cried as soon as she got in the car, demanding to see her dad. It was routine after any allergic reaction that Ella saw Evan and got comforted by him and today was no different, she wasn't going home without seeing her daddy.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Is that okay?" (Y/n) looked between Bobby and Evan, double checking that it would be okay for the girls to stay, none of them had had anything to eat yet other than a partial cookie that caused today's chaos.

"Of course! We have to get to know you all now anyway," Hen waved for them all to sit down around the table. It was the routine to eat dinner together as a family and now, finally, they could meet Buck's family and get to know them. They were going to be part of the 118 either way so they should stay.

Evan leaned over Eddie so he could give Cora a quick kiss, he hadn't seen his one year old yet who Eddie gently handed back to (Y/n). And Evan kissed (Y/n)'s temple before he moved and took a seat next to (Y/n) with Ella on his lap since she was attached to him at the moment. Angel moved to sit between Evan and Chimney while Bobby sat at the other end of the table.

A fondness washed over Bobby when he looked at Evan suddenly interacting with Angel.

He held his hands out in front of him and curled all fingers but his pinkies into his palm and made a circular motion with his hands before pulling his arms back at his sides like repelling magnets.

"Pasta for lunch sweetie," He spoke slow and clear and repeated the sign for pasta until Angel nodded and grinned. It was one of her favourites.

"What's the sign for hello?" Chimney looked over Angel at Evan who was sat on her other side but his eyes widened when Angel looked up at him and placed her hand to her head and did a salute. Hello was an easy sign, a simple gesture that many mistook for an army salute.

"She can read your lips if you speak clear, sign is just easier for her, we're working on pronouncing," Evan kissed her temple when she leaned into his arm, looking up at him with adoration in her eyes as she watched him explain.

Angel could speak but her pronouncing was a little bad at the moment, she could barely hear anyone or hear herself speak and it made her self conscious. Sign language was easier and calming for her because no one could make fun of how she said things and she could sign much faster than she could lip read or speak.

"Oh, right."

"Daddy…" Ella looked up at him with bashful eyes when he plated up Angel and himself a bowl of pasta, knowing Ella would share with him.

"No milk baby, I saw Bobby make it. You'll be fine." He winked down at her and took a mouthful before he stabbed another forkful and held it down towards her. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head to keep her calm and when she took a cautious bite, she grinned.

Evan went to take another mouthful but his jaw dropped and he gasped when Ella reached both her small hands up and grabbed his wrist to pull the fork down to her instead. She giggled when Evan tipped his head back and groaned but everyone else started to laugh.

"My daughters like your cooking, Cap." Evan gave up and handed Ella the fork so she could eat first, he knew he wasn't going to get very much now until she was finished. And he leaned over to the left and kissed Angel's forehead, rubbing his free hand up and down her back.

"I'm glad to hear it, that means they can all come by more often."

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #imagines #911 imagine #911 #bobby nash #eddie diaz imagine

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auras-moonstone · 6 months

Note

OMG CAN YOU WRITE A ETHAN LANDRY BASED OFF WILLOW PLS 🙏🙏 I LOVE UR WORK SM

i was writing invisible string when i got your request and i thought i could combine both songs! hope you don’t mind <3

invisible string — ethan landry

word count: 1,696

pairing: slytherin!ethan landry x ravenclaw!fem!reader

summary: ethan, who does not believe in soulmates, meets y/n, a hopeless romantic who is obsessed with the subject and makes him change his mind. later, they find out that all along there was an invisible string tying them to each other.

warnings: none, just fluff <3 it’s a hogwarts au but you don’t have to had watched harry potter to understand.

EVEN IN THE WIZARDING WORLD, SOULMATES WERE EXTREMELY RARE. Very few wizards were lucky enough to have a person that was quite literally meant for them. The amount of people who claimed had found their soulmates could be counted with one hand.

Being the hopeless romantic that she was, Y/N had always been obsessed with the concept of soulmates. She had read every single book about the topic, and her fascination never ceased.

Legend has it, if you had been blessed by Merlin with a soulmate, their initials would appear on your wrists when you turned 18—the legal age for wizards—, and if you happened to be near your soulmate, the thread that tied you to them would stop being invisible and would show its golden colour. No one but the two parts involved would be able to see it, so that’s why some wizards—the majority of them—didn’t fully believe soulmates existed.

Ethan Landry was part of the sceptic’s group. The wizarding civilisation was enormous, and only less than five people had found their soulmate? He called bluff. They were just trying to get some attention. Besides, the entire concept felt really silly to him.

“Do you mind if I sit here? It's the only corner where the sun doesn't hit” a sweet voice interrupted his study session. Ethan raised his head and his heart threatened to leave his chest when he came across two beautiful bright eyes and an adorable shy smile.

“Sure, no problem.” the Slytherin smiled at the Ravenclaw. That’s the most perfect smile I’ve ever seen, Y/N thought as she sat across from him.

That morning the sun was shining brightly and the temperature was perfect—neither hot nor cold—, so Y/N decided to read at her usual spot next to the Black Lake. With a content smile, she opened her favourite book and started her daily reading as she twirled her fingers around the green grass below her.

Ethan’s curious eyes took in the book cover and couldn’t help but chuckle as he read the title: The tale of the four soulmates.

Y/N looked up from her book and frowned at him. “Share the joke so we can laugh together.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… do you read it for pure entertainment, or do you actually believe in soulmates?” he asked, scrunching his nose. And if he didn’t look so insulted by her beliefs, she would’ve thought it was a cute action.

“I do believe in them.” she answered, this time more politely.

“Why?”

“I don’t really have a certain reason. Isn’t it just so pretty to think that all along there was an invisible string tying you to your person?”

He wanted to scream ‘No, it isn’t!’, but he couldn’t, not when her entire being lit up as she talked about it. He wasn’t a monster, he couldn’t be rude to someone just because they thought differently.

“I guess it is… pretty, but I still don’t believe it. There hasn’t been any proof besides doubtful testimonies.” Ethan shrugged.

“That’s fair.” she said. “But, I mean, if you think about it, muggles think wizards exist sorely on movies and books. And yet, here we are. Why is it so hard for people to believe soulmates exist too?”

“You have a point. Unfortunately, I won’t believe it until I see it.”

“You won’t be able to see it, unless you have one.”

“I guess if it happens to someone I trust, I would believe their word.” Ethan said.

“I hope it happens. And when it does, remember when you laughed at the poor girl who sat by you next to the Black Lake.”

Ethan laughed, and it was the best sound Y/N had ever heard. “If it happens, I’ll look for you and apologise. How does that sound?.”

“Looking forward to it.” she smiled. “What’s your name, sceptic?”

The boy opened his mouth to reply when Chad, his best friend, strode towards him and grabbed him by the arm. “Snape is looking for you, and he seemed pretty angry.”

Ethan threw an apologetic glance at the girl. “See you are around, mystical girl.”

The girl rolled her eyes playfully “See you around, sceptic.”

NEITHER OF THE TWO TEENAGERS COULD STOP BUMPING INTO EACH OTHER SINCE THAT SHORT ENCOUNTER. If they hadn’t been so consumed by the electric spark that took over their bodies everytime they saw each other, they would’ve realized that maybe it wasn’t coincidental at all—it was their string pulling them together, because the time of the revelation was getting close and the tie grew stronger with the passing of days.

Ethan had already turned 18, and the unexpected happened—two initials appeared on the inside of his wrist. Y/N/I Y/L/N/I. There were lots of people with those initials, how the hell was he supposed to figure it out? He wished he could talk to that girl, the one who was constantly trying to change his mind about soulmates, but sadly they were on winter holidays.

Every encounter they had, she would tell him one fact about soulmates. And truth was, the more she said, the less he knew how to keep his sceptic mind. Her words had cut through him like a knife. And now that he had proof, there was nothing left to doubt. He couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts and spill everything, but he also couldn't help feeling a bit disheartened about it. Ethan had taken a liking towards the girl, and he couldn't see himself getting to know anyone else but her.

He didn't know why, but his thoughts always bent towards her. He couldn't help it, it was like being lost in a current he could not free himself from.

Y/N's feelings weren't different from his at all. It was exhausting. Everytime she laid her head on the pillow, she could feel him sneaking in. And it weren't just dreams about him, her mind wondered about him throughout her whole day, and it bothered her a little. Firstly, because she didn't even know his name. And second, she just found out she had a soulmate.

"Mom, I'm going to go for a walk." Y/N yelled as she grabbed her coat.

As she strolled down the lighted up narrow street that was filled with dive bars, she thought about the revelation. It was supposed to be the happiest moment of her life. She had been waiting for her 18th birthday for years, but now she wished she hadn't been blessed with a soulmate. The prospect of finding them wasn’t so exciting anymore, and it was all because of that sceptic, brunet boy with wide eyes and radiant smile.

Y/N lowered her gaze down to her wrist and traced her fingers over the initials. E. L. "Will I ever find you?" and as she voiced the thought, she felt a pull on her body that made her come to a stop. She looked around the isolated street, but she didn't find anything. And then, she saw a flicker of gold in her periphery.

Her heart trumped as she followed the trail of the golden string. It came out of her wrist and it was guiding her towards a dive bar. This was it, her soulmate was there. Before she knew it, she was opening the door of the small bar illuminated by neon lights.

Her soulmate was staring right at her, and he wore the same appalled expression as her. Like compasses, their feet dragged them towards each other, meeting in the middle. Of course it was him, she thought, it had always been him.

“Hi, sceptic boy. What a turn of events, right?” she smiled at him. She was static, clouded by happiness.

“The best plot twist to ever exist.” Ethan mirrored her smile. “I guess, now in handsight, it was pretty obvious, right?”

Y/N let out a laugh as she nodded “So many clues we didn’t see.”

Ethan felt his chest might explode from happiness as he look down at their hands. The golden string was sparkling almost as much as the soulmates, who couldn’t get over the discovery. “I can’t believe this is happening. I’m so glad it’s you.”

“Me too.” she whispered, jointing their hands. Warmth spread through their bodies, and Ethan wrapped her in his arms.

“You wrecked my plans.” he said with a laugh, as he guided her to the stools. Y/N frowned in confusion, so he continued. “I was planning to wallow in sadness.”

“Why? What happened?” she asked worriedly. Ethan smiled at that, and then extended his right hand, showing her the initials. The girl’s eyes filled with sadness. “You didn’t want a soulmate?”

“Not if it wasn’t you.”

Y/N sighed in relief, pinching his ribs. “You scared me, asshole.” he laughed and muttered an apology. “By the way, we never exchanged names.”

“I’m Ethan Landry, ex-sceptic.” he winked at her.

“Y/N Y/L/N, and you, sir, owe me an apology.”

He stood up, putting his hands on her waist. She was sitting on the tall stool, making them be at the same height. “I’m really sorry for laughing at you.”

“Mmm… I don’t know if I should forgive you. Soulmates had always been a big deal to me.” she said playfully, fixing the already fixed collar of his shirt.

“Maybe I can bribe you?” he smirked, his hands trailed slowly from her waist to the back of her neck. “I’ve been told I’m a great kisser.”

Y/N frowned. “I don’t wanna know what your exes say about you” not to be toxic, but picturing him with other girls made her want to throw up.

“You’re so cute.” he laughed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But I want you to know that ever since I met you, I have been all about you. No one else.”

“Good.” she said with a sufficient smile.

“You stink with jealousy.” he scrunch his nose in a teasing manner.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, asshole.”

Ethan laughed and pulled her into a soft and magical kiss. “I’m in heaven.” he muttered between kisses.

“Wow, you went from aromantic to a sappy boy.”

“I know.” he sighed, acting frustrated. “I’m not ashamed though, I’m obsessed with you and I plan to show it everyday.”

“Now that sounds like heaven.”

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clu-ven · 1 month

Text

Better than Meditation

soooo I haven't posted in a very long time but I'm trying to get back into writing!!! (so pls bear with me xoxoxoxoxo)

Summary: you come up with an alternative (smutty) way for Crosshair to gain some control over his hand - based off S3 E08

Tags: SMUT, vaginal fingering, semi public fingering?? (technically it’s done in an isolated but public place), lil bit of plot + smut, smut, smut

Word Count: 2.8k

“He’s still down there, y’know” Omega’s voice brings you out of your thoughts as she slumps down beside you.

You keep your eyes closed, letting the rays of the afternoon sun wash over you. Pabu’s climate is one you could most definitely get used to. It’s inviting and comforting atmosphere makes you feel at ease, a sensation that has become rare since the rise of the Empire.

“Well, you know how stubborn he is,” you reply casually.

While Hunter and Wrecker are gone to meet some bounty hunter they know, Crosshair has spent most of his time on a secluded part of the beach, focused on correcting his aim. Everyone has tried to talk to him about it but unfortunately, that only made things worse.

Now Crosshair is more defensive than ever, determined to prove that he is perfectly capable of correcting his shaky hand by himself.

“Yeah but AZI said it might be some kind of mental block,” Omega sighs, subtly copying you as she closes her eyes too “if he doesn’t open up and let us help him, then how is he supposed to get better?”.

Her concern for Crosshair makes you smile, impressed by how she’s able to delicately balance trying to help her brother without being too overbearing.

The question lingers for a few moments before you open your eyes and glance down at her “And he’s already shot down your meditation idea?”.

Omega briefly mentioned the idea to you that morning and although you were sceptical, you encouraged her determination to help anyway.

“Of course he did,” she lets out a heavy sigh “saying he didn’t like it is an understatement”.

A comfortable silence grows between you both as you consider the situation. But before you can speak, Omega quickly becomes restless and blurts out “Can’t you try speaking with him? He’ll listen to you, I just know it!”.

It’s no secret that you and Crosshair were once close and you can only presume Omega has heard about this from the likes of Wrecker, who wouldn’t give a second thought about mentioning it.

"I can try but..." you trail off, hesitating to make a decision. Doubt clouds your judgement, stopping you from promising anything. After all, you know how stubborn and closed-minded Crosshair can be at times, especially when it comes to being vulnerable.

Omega's face lights up at your hesitant help. "Great! Sometimes trying is all it takes". She seems upbeat and enthusiastic as she stands “I was gonna go introduce Batcher to Mox, Stak and Deek anyways so it’s good to know Crosshair won’t be alone”.

Giving the girl a tight-lipped smile in response, Omega whistles for Batcher. With one last goodbye, she hurries off happily.

You wait until she’s gone before you sigh and slump down again. Although Crosshair has been back for a while now, the two of you have yet to have a proper reunion, leaving you both unsure of how to approach the situation.

Knowing you can’t put this off for forever, you begrudgingly get up and start the long descent down to the secluded beach.

The subtle change in weather appears to align with your mood, as the sun dips behind the clouds and a warm breeze begins to pick up. It causes the light fabric of your skirt to dance in the wind as if it has a mind of its own. But it’s only a momentary distraction as your thoughts swiftly return to Crosshair, focusing fully on him and the impending catch-up.

You and Crosshair were always close during the Clone Wars, constantly laughing at each other’s snide remarks, bickering simply for the sake of it and always trying to get a rise out of the other. Even back then, you knew where the constant teasing would eventually lead to… but then it didn’t.

Instead, the war came to an end and before you even got the opportunity to speak with Crosshair, the rest of the Batch had turned up at your door and told you that he had already picked his side.

Since then, you have been travelling with the batch. It took a long time to accept that whatever was between you and Crosshair was gone, whether that be a friendship or something more. That died the day the Republic did.

But in a strange twist of faith, Crosshair is back and so are your lingering feelings. Although, if it was difficult to confront this emotion before everything happened, it’s become utterly impossible now. Neither of you have mentioned it and yet you still catch his longing gaze whenever he thinks you’re not paying attention.

When you reach the beach, it’s exactly how you pictured; Crosshair is alone, his sniper positioned steadily on a rock as he tries to shoot the far off target. A blaster bolt sprints across the water as he fires, missing his target by a few inches. You hear him mutter something under his breath as he tries again.

Flicking his chewed up toothpick to the ground, Crosshair notices you. “Yes?” He asks impatiently, lining up another shot.

“You’ve been out here all day,” you state the obvious “Omega’s worried about you”.

Crosshair doesn’t reply immediately, first firing (and missing) again before he turns around just to make sure you see his eye roll. “Oh, is she?” His tone is underlined with sarcasm.

A huff falls from your lips and suddenly you know all too well why Omega was so irked after trying to help the man in front of you. Despite the scowl on your face, you refuse to fall into the usual bickering you once had with him.

“You know she is,” you sigh “maybe you should take a break, come have some lunch and forget about target practice for a while”.

He watches you for a moment, studying you the same way you’ve seen from the corner of your eye “And when did you become mother hen?”.

Scoffing, you walk closer, hugging yourself with your arms “Don’t act like that, you know you’re overworking yourself… Crosshair, please, you need to take care of yourself”.

The concern in your voice takes him by surprise but Crosshair quickly recovers as he mutters “Oh, so you’re worried about me now?”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You bat back at him.

“You’ve hardly looked at me, nevermind speak to me since I’ve gotten back” he practically spits the words out.

You no longer hold back your glare “Like you’ve made any effort to talk to me!”.

“How can I when you don’t even look at me?” Crosshair challenges, his gaze unyielding as your annoyance fades as quick as it came.

Coming up to the rock he’s based at, you slide down against it to shield yourself from the wind. Crosshair follows suit and kneels beside you, waiting cautiously for your response.

Your tone holds a sense of sincerity as you speak, your words now free of any reservations. "I do look at you… of course I do," you confess with genuine intent, all annoyance and restraint vanishing within you.

“Then you must see me staring,” he almost whispers the words, watching you carefully “I thought you would have gotten the hint by now that I’m still interested”.

A soft smile graces your lips and as if taming a wild animal, you slowly reach out for his hand. Crosshair makes no attempt to stop you and you gently slip your hand into his before you tug him closer.

Settling his hand on to your lap, you begin to trace your finger up and down his palm until finally resting your hand delicately on his wrist. “Let me help,” you offer “seriously, Crosshair”.

“And how would you help?” Though the question almost seems backhanded, you know that’s just Crosshair being Crosshair.

The mischievous glint in your eye paired with the suggestive smirk plastered across your face doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“How do you think?” you question.

He holds your gaze as if to challenge you to make the first move but you hold strong. This is your moment and you both know it.

A secluded beach? A chance for you both to finally reunite in a way you could only imagine? Both of your minds go to the same place.

You give his wrist a small yet reassuring squeeze and before you can make another comment, his lips are on yours.

With an intensity fuelled by pure need, he slams his lips against yours in a heated display of passion. This isn’t just a build up of years worth of longing for Crosshair. No, it’s much more than that. It’s an act of rebellion against the time he lost with you because of the Empire, both in spite of his own misplaced loyalty to them as well as his time on Tantiss.

The fiery kiss goes on for what feels like an eternity and yet the time seems far too brief when it finally comes to an end. The passion flaring between the two of you is intoxicating, causing you to crave more.

His fingers twitch on your lap, eager to do more for you. As if on cue, you both look down at his hand, your soft grasp still around his wrist.

“You have to be calm, be able to stay consistent with your shots if you want to hit the target, right?” you ask, trying not to smirk when you see his sudden confusion.

In a moment like this, you seriously decide to give him some advice on shooting? Crosshair nods, silently waiting to see where this is going.

“Maybe you’re approaching this from the wrong perspective,” you suggest, noticing how his attention shifts to your lips “you’re focusing on your sniper abilities, looking to re-learn your techniques… but you need to re-learn how to use your fingers in order to effectively use your sniper”.

“And how do you propose I do that?” his voice is low, causing the skin on your arms to prickle with goosebumps. You can feel the effect of his voice in your panties.

With your free hand, you begin to bunch up your skirt, first revealing your thighs and then a glimpse of your underwear. Crosshair can’t help it as a groan escapes from his throat.

You guide his hand closer to your clothed core before Crosshair takes initiative and brushes his fingers teasingly against you.

He can feel the warmth beneath your underwear, feeling more assured in his movements when he hears you take in a sharp breath. But even with the small boost in confidence, Crosshair can’t help it as a small tremor courses through his hand.

“Take your time,” your voice is soft but firm in your reassurance “and if this is too much then we can stop”. Fearful that you’ve pushed him too far, you slowly begin to close your legs as you nervously fiddle with your skirt “I didn’t mean to push you so-”.

You stop your apologetic remark when his firm grip stops your legs from meeting. A brief look of disbelief flicks across your face as he spreads your legs to his liking.

“No,” there is no hesitancy in Crosshair’s voice as he takes control of the situation “you started this, don’t go shy on me now”. This time it’s your turn to nod silently.

His fingers glide down to caress you again, this time feeling the dampness from beneath your underwear. Each reaction you give, whether a sharp intake of breath or a slight quiver up your spine, only serves to fuel Crosshair’s determination. He savors these small responses, revelling in how you leave each reaction so bare for him to see.

Crosshair smirks “If this is how you react to such simple touches, do you think you could handle me touching you without anything between us?”.

“You’d be surprised with how much I can handle” you taunt.

Oh how he has missed how you challenge him. Your snarky response is rewarded with a kiss but before you can melt into it, Crosshair brings both of his hands to your hips and swiftly pulls your panties down.

The eager sight that greets him brings a smile to his face. Crosshair can feel his excitement growing but before he can get ahead of himself, he’s committed to take care of you first.

Crosshair teasingly brings just one finger down to your core. A slight tremor causes his finger to waver but after a second, it stops as desire overtakes him. His finger teases you, feeling just how much you want him. Before he can make another teasing comment, you pull him in for another kiss, unable to help yourself.

Crosshair is quick to take control of the kiss, simultaneously pushing his tongue into your mouth as he sinks his long finger into you. You welcome all of him, moaning into his mouth. Taking your sounds as encouragement, Crosshair adds a second digit to your core.

He pushes in until he’s knuckle deep, successfully finding that spot within you. Crosshair takes your advice to heart. He keeps a consistent rhythm, thrusting his fingers inside of you. He listens to each involuntary squeak and moan, adjusting his speed and pressure of each pump of his fingers to whichever makes you react the most.

There’s not a slight tremble in his entire hand, his attention solely on you. There is no room for nerves or doubt to creep in and cause his hand to shake. That seems almost impossible now, especially with you like this in front of him.

There is nothing but you and him in this moment, the rhythmic movement of his fingers serving as proof that he has full control.

He buries his fingers into you, pressing the palm of his hand against your clit and delivering powerful jolts of pleasure into your body.

“That’s it,” he coos at your moans “you’re nearly there, aren’t you?”.

A flutter fills your chest as your breathing becomes more rapid. "Y-yes,” you manage with a strained voice, your mind becoming overwhelmed with arousal “keep doing that”.

You squeeze around his fingers, feeling the tight coil in your lower stomach getting closer and closer to finally snapping.

Your body responds to his touch in the most natural of ways, your back arching and head bowing in a display of utter pleasure. Your hand instinctively searches for contact, grabbing hold of his knee as the overwhelming sensation begins to consume you.

Your legs twitch, eyes rolling back in your head and a rather loud moan escapes your lips as the satisfaction you feel begins to peak.

Bliss floods your entire being and the mixture of your moans and whimpers blend together in a melodic harmony. Every movement of his hand guides you through the waves of ecstasy, sending shivers through your body.

Crosshair hums approvingly as you come down from your sigh. Almost reluctantly, he takes his hand away from you and examines his sticky but steady fingers. “My hand hasn’t been able to do so much and remain so still since… well, ever since Tantiss” he comments.

Trying to give your shaky legs more time to recover, you fix your panties before you reposition your skirt. Stealing a glance at Crosshair, you’re glad to see you’re not the only one with flushed cheeks. You smile almost bashfully as you lean on the rock to stand.

Crosshair is there to help, gently holding your upper arm as you steady yourself. Despite the sass you gave him earlier and the bliss he just brought you now, you find it hard to maintain eye contact.

Clearing your throat, you try to regain some of that boldness from before “Well then… good luck with your target practice, I’ll go see if the others have made contact yet”.

“What?!” the sound is almost foreign to you; the sound of an utterly bamboozled Crosshair.

Pushing yourself off the rock, you feel his grasp slip away from your arm. You continue to walk as you turn around to savor his shocked expression.

“What about me?” he asks, trying to be inconspicuous as he gestures to the tent in his pants “I thought this was about helping me?”.

“Yeah, I know,” you reply with a smirk “you’ll get your reward when you hit the target”. With a wink, you turn your back to him and begin the ascent back.

Crosshair’s jaw hangs open as he watches you go, and he can’t help but laugh at your audacity.

#the bad batch crosshair #bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #clone trooper crosshair #I just wanted to write smut lol #idk if this implicates that the reader has some magic... ahem... parts #but either way it sure helped Crosshair!#smut #tbb season 3 #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb spoilers

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chaussetteblanche · 10 months

Text

hobie taking care of drunk!you

pairing : hobie brown x gn!reader summary : the ways hobie takes care of you when you've had too much to drink warnings : none word count : about 1k

You had been shocked when Hobie had agreed to come to the party. You’d been begging him for days to come with you, not only because you wanted him to accompany you, but also because there were a few people you were convinced he would get along with. Other anarchists and punks. His kind of people. It was one of your friends’ birthday, and a perfect excuse to drink just a bit too much on a Friday evening.

“Aight, I’ll come along, but the second they get some of that shitty modern music playin’, I’m outta there, you get me?” he’d warned the day before. You had just beamed, lifting yourself up on the tips of your toes to give him a sweet kiss. He had hummed, heading back to the couch to resume his Bakunin book.

He was now staring at you across the room, you were in the kitchen with a dozen other people, throwing back drink after drink. He had known it was over when you’d started mixing alcohols. He’d have to stay the whole night, even if it was just to look after you. But it wasn’t as bad as he had expected, a few friends of yours had interesting political views and made for rich conversation. He internally winced when he saw your behaviour alter, thinking of how shitty you’d be feeling the following day.

“Hobie!” you cried loudly, wobbling over to him. He had a hand out as soon as you were within reach, hovering over the small of your back in case you were to stumble. "You alright there?" he asked. You nodded happily and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek, smiling widely. “How are you liking the party with these two?” You motioned to your two friends, who chuckled at the state you were in. “I told ya you’d like ‘em,” “I do, they’re very nice, aren’t they?” he chuckled as you swayed lightly besides him. “How ‘bout you come with me for a sec, luv?” You looked down, shuffling your feet which seemed unusually far from you. “Not here, Hobes, we can’t…” Hobie let out a bark of laughter at the way your mind worked. “Nah, luv, I’m not tryna have sex right now, but let’s ‘ave a drink, though, yeah?” “Oh,” you nodded, a twinkling laugh escaping your throat, “sure,”

You wobbled enthusiastically to the kitchen, Hobie catching up with you within a few quick steps. “Lemme get ya somethin’ to drink, alright, luv?” Whenever you were out together, he would always make you drink some water without ruining your fun. You didn't always notice. “Sure, baby,” you smiled, all wet lips and pretty white teeth. Hobie let his eyes roam your face before tearing himself away and getting a shot glass. He filled it up with water and handed it to you. “Here ya go, dovey,” You stared sceptically down at the clear liquid in front of you, frowning. “It’s tequila,” he added, hoping to make you take the shot, like the dozen you’d taken before. You met his eye, brows low. “Like fuck it is.” He held his breath, sucking his tongue. Curse you for being so attractive when you acted defiant. “I’m not that drunk, you know, I can still differentiate water from tequila,” you spoke, chin lifted high. Hobie scanned your face, holding back a smirk. Glassy eyes, slurred speech, no balance whatsoever. He knew you well. Of course you were very, very far from sober and of course you wouldn't admit it. “Just drink it, alright?” he pressed, pinching the bridge of his nose to cover his smirk. “Fine, I’m drinking it, but it’s only because you’re so pretty, okay? So, it’s kind of a ‘fuck you’, just so you know.” He chuckled and nodded despite not understanding what you meant.

You run off after that and he returns to his conversation about neo-anarchism. But he loses sight of you for a few minutes and excuses himself, wanting to check up on you. He finds you outside, trying to convince your even drunker friend to come inside rather than sleeping in the grass. You’re lightly shaking her shoulder, whispering to her. “C’mon, babes, come inside. You can sleep on the couch, just not here, okay? I promise it's so much more comfortable.” Hobie’s heart warms at the sight of you caring for your friend despite the state you’re in. “Look, if you don’t get up, Imma give you a real slap and see how you like that,” you finally threaten, fed up. Hobie laughs when your friend gets up, grumbling, and heads inside.

“There y’are, lovely,” he speaks warmly, “’was looking f’you,” You tear your eyes away from your friend’s retreating form and look up at him. He looks even more beautiful under the moonlight, his silver piercing reflecting slightly. “Were you?” “Hmm,” he hums, lifting your chin and pressing a kiss to your lips. “Was worried ‘bout you,” “I’m fine,” you assure, grinning widely. “Really?” he cocks an eyebrow. You’re about to answer and say that, yes, really, you’re fine, but your stomach lurches and next thing you know you’re hunched over, the contents of your stomach spilling out into your friend’s bushes.

Hobie lets out a curse and quickly gathers your hair and pulls it back at the nape of your neck, getting it all out of your face. He rubs your back soothingly, whispering sweet things into your ear. “It’s okay, let it out, let it all out, baby, you’ll feel better afterwards.” When you’re done, he hands you a Kleenex and wipes your teary eyes, pouting slightly. “I’m so sorry, that was so fuckin’ disgusting,” you moan. He would probably be disgusted with you for weeks and would never want to ever look at you again. Your eyes started to well with tears. “Luv, y’know I don’t care ‘bout none of that,” he grins, kissing your cheek. “How ‘bout we get ya home, yeah?” “Yeah,” you look down, “that’s probably a good idea,”

When you’re back at his apartment, you shower together, and he helps you into bed. You’re out like a light, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, placing an Ibuprofen and a glass of water on your nightstand for the next morning. He smiles softly when you turn around to face him when he slides between the covers, your gentle breath fanning his face. You were a dumbass sometimes, but you were still his dumbass.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x you #spiderpunk #hobart brown x reader #atsv x you #atsv x reader

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theemporium · 8 months

Note

For the slumber party event could you maybe write something with 🧸 for Max Verstappen and his firstborn? I just imagine him to be such a gentle and loving husband and father I don't know why.

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

He had spent the last nine months picking apart every single one of his flaws.

It wasn’t healthy in the slightest, that much he was aware of. But he just couldn’t stop himself. Ever since you had told him you were pregnant, it had been a lingering thought in the back of his mind. Every single mistake he made, every single imperfection, every single defect was like a blaring alarm in his head that he couldn’t switch off.

He was over the moon to start a family with you. He was excited to be a father. He was excited to meet his child.

But there was a little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his own father telling him he was going to fail.

Max didn’t want to follow the path he had been stuck in his own life. He wanted to break the cycle, he wanted to be the generation where everything changed. He wanted to be everything he craved as a child. He just didn’t want to be a disappointing father.

He could handle hate. He could handle criticism. He could handle racing over two hundred miles an hour with the underlying fear that he was risking his life every time he got behind the wheel.

But he could not handle being a bad father.

And all those negative thoughts came to a screeching halt the first time he held Fabian Verstappen in his arms.

“He’s perfect,” Max breathed out, his eyes glossy and his throat feeling like it was closing up, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the baby boy in his arms. His shirt was abandoned somewhere else in the room, allowing the small baby to be pressed against his skin and Max never wanted this perfect moment to end.

“He looks like you,” you murmured, bone tired and exhausted as you leaned back on the hospital bed, but you couldn’t help the way you smiled at the sight in front of you.

“I don’t know who should be more insulted by that, me or him,” Max retorted, a teasing tilt to his words but his attention was purely focused on his son. “Your mother is already ganging up against us, schatje.”

“If he’s a mini you, god help me now,” you grumbled playfully, watching the way Max’s lips turned upwards at the idea. “It suits you.”

“Hm?” Max hummed, his brows furrowing a little in confusion.

“Fatherhood,” you said, smiling softly when his head snapped up to look at you. “It looks good on you.”

He looked a little sceptical. “Is this a weird way of calling me a dilf?”

You snorted. “Well, no but that is also true. I just meant that I think being a dad was a role you were always meant for.”

His eyes glanced back down at little Fabian Verstappen, the small little baby that hadn’t cried since the second he was placed in his father’s arms. He wanted to give his son the world. He would give his son the world. Because if there was one thing Max Verstappen didn’t do, it was lose. And fatherhood wasn’t about to be his first failure.

“I think so too,” he murmured before he lifted his head to look at you again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smiled, feeling sleep beginning to take over. “Both of you.”

“Sleep, schatz, we’ll both be here when you wake up.”

“My boys,” you said with a small huff of laughter before your eyes fell shut.

But Max couldn’t help but grin as he whispered, “my family.”

#cece's slumblurb party #max verstappen #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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somewhereincairparavel · 15 days

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How would Jason Grace spoil you? boyfriend hcs list

author's note: ik i have an angsty jason grace prompt in my asks and i swear im working on it! But this idea just popped up on my mind and I've been thinking about it all night yesterday omgg. Let me know if you guys want a Leo/Percy/Frank version of this, I mostly write for Jason since he's my bbg but I might actually do the others this time since the idea is so cute!

I'll start off by saying, Jason is a selfcare supporter bf.

Okay so yk how the Romans in CJ have such high standards? They literally exhibit royal/regal energy, and are super fans of luxury stuff.

Jason despite being influenced by greeks would always be a roman. Whether he likes it or not, there will always be roman blood in him. So he makes these cute/simple ideas for dates/gifts but his execution is just pure sophistication. He's SO simple yet so fancy, and Ik they're contradictions but I promise I'll explain.

like this boy would make sure to run you a nice warm roman bath after you come back from a dangerous/tiresome quest to ease your muscles. Cute and simple right? Wrong. This man would buy all sorts of expensive bath perfumes, bath bombs, fragranted petals, etc to make it extra special for you.

See so this is what I mean when I say his ideas are cute, but executed in a very fancy way.

He LOVES spoiling you with self care products, like sheet masks, lotion, cleansers, hair masks, etc. like he simply does NOT care about the money, as long as his girl is taking care of herself?? That's all that matters tbh

This is mostly because Jason, as a kid soldier, never had any time for himself, the closest thing he's ever done to "selfcare" is probably take long baths + trim his hair lol

jason was blessed with his mother's ethereal actress beauty okay. So selfcare or no self care would have zero effect on him physically bc bro would still look majestic.

ANYWAYS he feels like his inner child just kinda heals when he sees you prioritising yourself and he admires it sm :((

would be ecstatic if you rope him into self care. He would be sceptical at first but then as you're applying a face mask on him he'd be like "wait this is actually so relaxing what" and you love the way his face muscles soften at that. Like he really deserves a break and some relaxation, you'd often trick him into using your skincare products intentionally bc he deserves self care.

once he felt so soothed with the lemon facemask he was wearing that he fell asleep on your shoulder and was all zzz 🥺

and would make sure to restock all your products if they run out.

he feels that the self-care has more of a mental and emotional effect on him rather than physical

Which is what matters to him

honestly?? He supports you if you want to wear makeup. Like he'd think you look gorgeous either way but if you like wearing lipgloss? So be it. You get any lipgloss you want he's paying. He just LOVES that you love yourself too :( and would do anything to make you feel comfortable.

also

Food.

This man loves investing on food. Again, it's bc he never even had the time to properly eat as a legionnaire :(

So he'd love to take you out to places and just munch on tasty food and talk. New Rome has bomb food okay. Bro just never got to eat them.

Lmao he's like everyone's grandma when it comes to food. "Have you eaten? You HAVE to eat!! I'll get you food! Go back to your room!"

would spoonfeed you soup if you're sick bc nuh uh you ain't going without eating hun 😤

hes the worried anxious mother hen bf okay fight me.

Food + selfcare = Jason Grace's love language

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writeyouin · 3 months

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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - I Don't Need You

A/N – Since the first chapter got comments and actual reblogs, surprise, surprise, I was motivated to continue. See, Tumblr? This is how it works. I respond to instant validation.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEM VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

You stepped into the room, accidentally kicking up a cloud of dust that made you sneeze.

After a minute, you turned to Lucifer, “Thank you for the room. It’s lovely.”

Lucifer held back a grimace as you had the audacity to smile at him.

“Great,” He replied in a strained tone, “Just perfect. So, I’ll uh, leave you to get settled in and-”

The sentiment of ‘Don’t disturb me!’ hung in the air, unspoken, but obviously there.

‘How was your arrival?’

‘Did you get the grand tour?’

‘Which room did he put you in?’

‘I bet it was the Rococo room.’

‘Oh no, he didn’t put you up in my old room, did he? That would be so EMBARRASSING!!!’

‘Wait, why aren’t you replying?! PLEASE TELL ME HE’S BEING NICE TO YOU!’

‘I can come over if you need me to.’

‘Did your bags get there okay?’

Moreover, you also believed the other part of your text; Lucifer probably kept Charlie’s room as a shrine to her youth. He seemed like the sort of person who was stuck in the past.

Your phone buzzed again, and you expected another message from Charlie, but it was from Angel Dust.

Without Charlie and Lilith that must be lonely. How depressing that he had created a kind of personal Hell inside of Hell. You were starting to think that Charlie was right to send you home with him.

Still, it seemed like he needed some time to get used to the idea of company and you had a job to work as his cleaner. Once you were unpacked, you would seek out the cleaning supplies and get started.

Lucifer draped himself over his workbench, listlessly toying with a rubber duck. It was one of his worst creations… Couldn’t even breathe fire.

Lucifer froze, a glower darkening his expression as you knocked on the door.

He had clearly implied that he didn’t want to be bothered. IMPLIED IT! It hadn’t even been one day and you were bothering him.

“Yes?” He said expectantly, leaning forward on his cane, as if leaning closer to you didn’t disturb him half as much as it did.

Cleaning products? Lucifer was stuck on the sentiment as if he’d never heard of such foreign words. Then he seemed to remember, you had been volunteered as his cleaner. Right… That was Charlie’s way of making him take you.

Finally, Lucifer seemed to come to and he began boredly examining his hand.

“That won’t be necessary,” He stated demurely.

“It won’t?”

“No. It won’t.”

“There, see, two half-sized cleaners. They’ll take care of everything.”

Whatever. The snake servants would do their job quietly and obediently. And they’d be more useful and less annoying than Charlie’s reptilian friend.

“Oh, okay. Well, is there anything else you’d like me to do?” You asked, wishing to be useful. “I can cook pretty well, or I could run errands, or-”

“NO!” Lucifer snapped.

“But-”

“Don’t you get it?! I DON’T NEED YOU.”

Lucifer forced himself to take a calming breath, his gaze downcast so he didn’t have to look at you.

“This is all my daughter’s plan. All you have to do is stay out of my way here and Charlie will be happy. Do you think you can manage that?”

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

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LONGING FROM AFAR

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Minho x fem!Med-jack!reader. Kinda mutual pining. Takes place before Thomas arrives.

Minho has always been confident and cocky, that is until a girl shows up in the Glade, completely changing the dynamic. What makes it worse is that Minho recognises her, though he doesn't know where from. It doesn't help that he's having some less-than appropriate dreams. The last thing he needs is an injury out in the Maze, leading him to being treated by you. Little does he know, it's not just him experiencing everything.

CONTENT WARNING: language, suggestive content and spice, minimal use of (Y/N). Pretty long but bear with.

Minho noticed a lot of things about you, even at the beginning.

When he got back to the Glade and heard about a girl coming up, he thought Newt was telling him a bad joke. But it was the truth. There you were.

Minho wasn't going to talk to you. He had no intention of distracting himself from his work. But the night you showed up, he was the same as everyone else. All eyes on you as you stared into the flames of the Bonfire

Newt had been put in charge of looking after you since Alby was sceptical about trusting the other Gladers just yet. He sat beside you on a log, offering you a drink and talking with little to no response.

You didn't seem scared. Or even uncomfortable. You just looked lost; like you were still processing what was going on. And the Maze and your life now was something you never really wrapped your head around.

Minho could tell you didn't see the boys as a threat. It wasn't that they wouldn't try anything, it was that you seemed confident in dealing with it.

Your baggy jacket had the hood pulled up, your hair falling around your face and the fabric being used as a shield. Something that would become somewhat of a trademark of your look.

But the thing that stuck out was he knew you. He couldn't point out where or how, but he did. He figured he'd known you before the Maze. It wasn't uncommon for Gladers to say they recognise people, like when you know someone's face but can't figure out where from.

But this was different. He knew you, like actually knew you. He hadn't spoken a word to you, yet he could make some pretty accurate guesses about you. All of which ended up not being that far off.

Even as time passed, whenever you were there, Minho's gaze always fell on you. You didn't say much to anyone, really. You were often found with Newt, who seemed to be your favourite Glader.

You would eat and spend free time with Newt, and he would guard you whilst showering. It was also obvious to Minho that Newt enjoyed spending time with you as well. He seemed brighter and spoke about you a lot; something that Minho didn't complain about.

But it did make him feel weird.

When you became a Med-jack, there was a string of "injured" Gladers who were very disappointed when they ended up getting treated by one of the boys. The medical hut had never been so busy.

Once the new Greenie came up after a month, Minho realised he was jealous. You were nurturing yet forward and the Greenie clung to you like there was no tomorrow.

I know her. She's mine.

The thought shocked him. He wasn't like that; at least he didn't think he was like that. He had no right to be like that, you guys had never even spoken.

That was when the dreams started.

Heated breath against his neck. His fingers bruising your waist. Unholy noises that filled his hut. Feelings he had never experienced before.

The dreams would vary. Some were loving and filled with sweet nothings and slow, caring intimacy. Others were rough; more forceful. Full of passion and greediness as need would consume him whole.

He'd always wake up the same, though. Flustered and frustrated and having to get up to work before he could deal with himself. It was definitely starting to cause a problem in rising sexual frustration.

He didn't really get it before. The other Gladers were always complaining about how horny they were and the straight dudes always pining for a girl to show up. Typical teenage hormones. But Minho had always been too preoccupied to even think about it. His goal was freedom and survival. And now a girl he had never even spoken to was making him go feral.

"Dude, are you good?" Ben had been watching Minho for a while as he leaned over the table in the middle of the Map Room. They were meant to be comparing routes and examining them before they headed out into the Maze for the day.

Minho had been staring at the same piece of paper for about fifteen minutes. Clearly, none of it sinking in.

"Minho?"

"Hm?" The boy looked up, meeting the concerned gaze of his friend. Minho had never been like this. He was always on the ball, noticing things that Ben wouldn't have ever even paid attention to. Yet, he was totally spaced out.

"Are you good?"

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're acting shucking weird, bro. The shuck's goin' on?" Minho wasn't about to admit that the reason his abilities were slipping was because he was being haunted by his wet dream from the previous night.

"Nothin', alright? I'm good."

This went on for weeks. Newt picked up on the change and he was the first to figure out why. He told Minho to talk to you but at this point, Minho couldn't bring himself to. What would he even say? How would he even interact with you like a normal human being after he'd had you in every position in his head?

Newt found it hilarious when a conversation about the complete lack of female anatomy knowledge started at Bonfire night. It was one of the few conversations the both of you had been involved in, even if you still weren't directly speaking.

Being a biology expert and a vagina owner, it quickly turned into a lecture that the boys were surprisingly respectful of. They seemed eager to learn and you weren't ashamed about talking about it, since sex education was just another health topic. Though Minho didn't know how to act when he found out you were on birth control.

Minho's red face and avoidance of eye contact with, well, anyone just egged Newt on more. He asked at least once a day if he'd gained the courage to talk to you yet.

He had not.

He started actually liking going out into the Maze. The Maze was when he got to be alone. The breeze blowing through his hair, his mind occupied with keeping track of his path and an ironic sense of freedom. And he was a safe distance from his nagging friend.

That was until he turned a corner and nearly ran face first into a Griever. Grinding to a halt, the slimy, grotesque creature turned to face him. Without hesitation, Minho took off, turning around and sprinting as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

The Griever easily gained ground on him, swiping and slashing from mere metres away. In his escape, he tripped, his feet catching over themselves and he fell to the floor, twisting his ankle.

The Griever wasn't able to stop in time, practically diving over him and rolling to a stop once it realised its mistake. One of it's mechanical arms slicing his back and he hissed in pain, praying that he wasn't stung. He didn't have time to process what had just happened as he scrambled to his feet.

Grievers were scary but dumb. This was common knowledge amongst the Runners. The fleshy monstrosity was yet to turn around as it seemed to be trying to process what had happened itself.

Fighting through the pain, Minho sprinted away in the direction he'd just fled from.

His leg was in agony, his back bleeding but he didn't stop. Running as fast as he possibly could towards the safety of the Glade.

After a couple of swift turns and a lot of painful footsteps, he dared look back. The Griever was gone. He was safe.

"Shuck this," he mumbled to himself. He had plenty of time and was meant to be running his route, but there was no way he could even begin to think about daring to do that in this condition.

Minho started making his way back to the Glade. The desperate urge to stop and sit down and rest was intoxicating. But he wouldn't get up again, and he knew it.

He didn't even realise his face was bleeding until he entered the corridor leading to the Glade and the crimson liquid dripped off, hitting the stone floor. He must've cut it on a rock on the floor or something.

Entering the Glade, it didn't take long for him to be noticed.

"Minho!" Alby's sharp voice cut through the serene farm setting. "The shuck are you doing back?"

Alby jogged towards him, his face shifting from irritation to concern once he noticed the Runner's injured state.

"Shit," the Leader grumbled, "Newt! Get the Med-jacks!" He shouted in the blond's direction.

"Minho," he approached the boy, "Hey, Minho," Ably grabbed him, wrapping his arm around his back, only for Minho to jolt away in pain. "Shuck it, what happened?"

"Griever," Minho grunted.

"Did you get stung?"

"Do I look like I've been stung?"

"Alby!" Jeff shouted as he approached. "What's going on?"

"Minho got attacked by a Griever, he needs checking. Now."

Newt, Clint and Jeff scrambled to help the injured boy, all three of them in a state of panic. It was rare for Minho to get hurt. It was even rarer for him to get this hurt.

They half-dragged Minho towards the Med-jack hut as the boy tried his best to keep himself going. In the midst of the chaos, Minho had completely forgot that you are, in fact, a Med-jack.

"Holy shit," you gasped and Minho's head snapped towards you. "Newt, what the shuck happened?"

"I-I don't know," the blond spluttered out, "he said he got attacked by a Griever."

"Shit, sit him down," the boys do what you tell them, walking him over to the bed and struggling to place the Runner safely. "Minho," your voice is soft and Minho knows that if he wasn't in agony he wouldn't know what to do. "Do you know if you've been stung? How are you feeling?"

"Like a klunk in a t-shirt," he attempted to joke, "no, I'm not stung, just cut up."

You examined him, taking his face between your fingers, taking in he features and the cut across his cheek. He moved his arm slightly and you caught a glimpse of the blood slowly soaking through his shirt. Walking around, your eyes widened.

"Take his shirt off," you directed your coworkers. "Now, c'mon."

"What?" The thought of being shirtless in front of you somehow freaked him out more than his recent brush with a Griever.

"Your back is bleeding badly," you stated, "and I have to check you for any other injuries."

You moved out of the way to let the boys help Minho undress, leaving him embarrassed and exposed. Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about. Minho looked like he had been carved out of stone. He spent all day every day exercising, so it wasn't much of a shock, but you still had to remind yourself not to get distracted.

The main focus was sorting out Minho's back and to check for spinal damage. Luckily, it was just a minor cut that was bleeding a hell of a lot.

Minho seemed to be incredibly jumpy. Every time you touched him, he flinched away. You used glue strips to pull the skin back together and wrapped the bandages around his middle. With Minho becoming visibly tense when you pressed your hand against his abs from behind to stabilise the fabric, you assumed that he didn't like physical contact. So, you became cautious to touch him as little as possible to try not to make him uncomfortable.

That was easier said than done when it came to addressing his facial injuries. It didn't look that bad; a surprisingly clean cut.

You stood in between Minho's legs, his face once again between your fingers as you delicately tried to pull the sides of the wound back together. Clint and Jeff were busy making sure Minho's back was appropriately covered and preparing more supplies for you accordingly and Newt was just watching.

Unbeknownst to Minho, you'd actually been sharing the same far away glances. You'd drunkenly confessed to Newt during a game of truths that Minho was the only Glader you were actually attracted to and it felt like you knew him. But with him always being out in the Maze and you always being busy with work, you felt like your paths weren't really meant to cross. You lived in the same place, but it was painfully obvious Minho didn't want to interact with you.

What you failed to tell Newt was that you felt a strong connection with the boy that was basically a stranger. He was unbelievably familiar to you, something you failed to explain even to yourself.

Newt was getting frustrated himself with the stubborn awkwardness you both possessed, but all it did was further prove you'd be a good match. He'd decided to stay and observe because Minho was his friend, but it was also because this was the first time either of you had actually interacted.

You were oblivious to it all at the moment. The panic of Minho being injured caused your anxiety about talking to him to vanish and be replaced with focus on your work. You were also oblivious to Minho's lingering hands as he fought to urge to put them on you waist and the puppy-dog look he couldn't seem to stop.

He'd never been this close to you. The closest being your sex ed lesson. He took the opportunity to watch you. Your face was stoic and firm as you concentrated on placing glue strips in a way that wouldn't be uncomfortable. He couldn't help but find the way your brow furrowed and the way strands of hair escaped your poorly tied up hairstyle cute.

God, you were so close. Too close. Close enough for all of Minho's dreams to start filling his head. He tried desperately to stay calm and distract himself but it wasn't working. You were being so gentle and attentive.

"How does that feel?" You asked absentmindedly, something you did to all your patients. It was such an innocent question that is made Minho even more flustered due to the context he'd previously heard it in his own head. "Minho?"

"It's uh, it's fine- it feels good. Well, not good, it feels klunky- but not like bad, like you've done a good job it just hurts. It.. it feels okay," you raised your eyebrow slightly, a small smirk playing on your lips. Minho inwardly cringed but you were entertained.

From what everyone had told you, Minho was smart and smooth, often overly confident and quick with his wit and even quicker with his actions. Maybe it was the injuries, but the Keeper of the Runners was currently a stuttering mess in front of you.

"Does anything else hurt?" You didn't falter at Minho's response. You're a professional, after all.

"Uh, yeah, I think I rolled my ankle."

"Which one?" He tapped his left leg and you nodded. "Can you take your shoe off?" He winced as he attempted to do so only for you to gesture him to stop.

You lowered yourself to the floor, kneeling in front of him as you untied the laces of his running shoes, trying to be as gentle as possible removing it.

Minho thought his brain might actually melt. You were on your knees in front of him, nursing to his injuries.

He made eye contact with Newt as you rolled his trouser leg up, examining the potential damage. Newt was grinning like an idiot. He had never seen Minho like this. Clint and Jeff were oblivious to whatever was going on and Newt felt like he was in on a well-kept secret. All Minho could do was glare at his friend.

"It looks sprained," you mainly said it to yourself but it quickly dawned on Minho what that meant.

"What about running?"

You looked up at him, pressing your lips into a thing line. "Sorry, buddy, you're gonna be out of commission for while." You rose again, hands in your pockets as you looked down at him. "You've got off pretty lucky all things considered. The cuts aren't deep, they just look bad and your ankle just has a nasty sprain. It should be better in a week or so, but that's only if you rest and stay off it."

"You gotta be shucking kidding me." You scoffed at Minho's dismayed.

"Don't worry too much - I'll give you some regular check-ups and keep an eye on it. You'll be back in the Maze in no time; I'll make sure of that." You playfully winked at him in an attempt to ease his nerves, which seemed to work.

You turned to Newt, "You gonna break the news to Alby or should I?"

"The shank should be happy Minho here is still bloody kickin'," Newt stood up straight, stretching slightly. "I'll go let him know."

You left Minho sitting there as you started talking to Clint and Jeff, telling both of them to go on break since both boys were suddenly very pale and slightly shaken up. You figured losing Minho would have been a massive hit to the Glade and for a second there, it felt very life or death.

"What am I meant to do now?" Minho asked as Clint and Jeff left.

You shrugged. "Whatever you want, man." You walked back over, returning to your position standing in front of him. "You've got a week off, enjoy yourself - well, not too much but you get what I mean."

Unlike Minho, you were having a surprisingly easy time talking to him. Almost natural.

"If you're bored, you can always chill here. It's not like serious injuries are common. You guys are pretty good at your job, so we mainly just deal with Slicer incidents." You were trying to be subtle about it but you were hoping that Minho would take the casual hint to spend some time with you.

You suddenly remember something, walking over to a cupboard, you pick up a makeshift crutch that was leaning against the wood, curtesy of Gally. "Here."

You handed him the crutch and he clearly didn't want to take it and admit defeat, but he did.

"Thanks," the conversation and interaction had reached it's natural end, but despite Minho's determined avoidance, he found himself not wanting to leave. "Can I, uh, can I stay here?"

You grinned at him, "'Course you can. I just said you could, didn't I?"

And that was it.

You and Minho were officially friends. Kind of.

It took a while, but Minho spent most of his week off talking to you and you both fell into a routine. He liked watching you work. You could effortlessly multitask, patching up people's injuries and maintaining a conversation with him.

Newt was also a welcomed addition during your free time. Well, to you at least. Minho wasn't exactly a fan of watching the pair of you talk and mess around. Your relationship with Newt seemed natural and friendly, something you and Minho were yet to have. Or he doubted ever would ever have. He also started to notice some flirting.

He hated it.

Minho had never been a possessive person, but watching you flirt with his best-friend was invoking even more complicated feelings in him.

It was a joke. Minho didn't know it was, but it was. You and Newt flirted all the time - because it was funny. Newt wasn't attracted to you at all. He had made that abundantly clear but that also meant you trusted him because it meant he wasn't going to try anything. And it was funny watching his disappointment when he didn't think the new Greenies were attractive.

Minho was unaware that it was a joke, though. So, by the time it came for him to go back into the Maze, he was reluctant.

Mainly because he was scared of running into another Griever, but also because he couldn't keep an eye on you. He hadn't exactly been keeping an eye on you before but seeing yours and Newt's dynamic up close wasn't pleasant.

Though, the Maze was a break. An actual break this time and a much needed one.

He'd often spend dinner time sitting with you and Newt, but for the rest of it, Minho would make himself scarce. Even when he was in the Glade.

It didn't help that the dreams were getting worse and it didn't take a genius to see that the tension between the both of you was thick. Exchanging glances, standing near each other when you were both involved in a group interaction, Minho's constant watchful gaze. It wasn't just Newt noticing it anymore.

"Dude, will you quit staring? You're freakin' me out." Alby leant against a post as Minho sat on a log, once again observing from a safe distance. Newt had informed him of Minho's growing crush and Alby had decided to keep an eye on things. He knew that Minho would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, but he still liked to make sure things were running smoothly for you. After all, being the only girl wasn't easy.

"I'm not staring," was Minho's response, even though he didn't bother stopping his glare.

"I thought you two were friends now?"

"She'd rather be friends with Newt."

The comment struck Alby as he looked at his long-time friend. Bonfire nights had become like clockwork to the veterans of the Glade, so neither boy really joined in on the festivities.

"Minho, are you jealous?"

The silence was loud and more than enough of an answer for Alby. Minho dropped his head, some kind of shame washing over him.

"Shuck me," the Leader barked a laugh, a rare occurrence, "you actually really like her, huh?"

"Slim it, man," Minho grumbled.

"Well, you better act on it, shank, you've got some competition," Minho figured Alby was referring to Newt, but when he looked up and saw Gally's arm draped around your shoulders, he felt a pit form in his stomach.

You made no effort to push Gally away, he was drunk and definitely not a threat. You weren't even talking to him; you were talking to Newt, who kept giving you gesturing looks, silently asking if you wanted him to deal with Gally. The Builder had originally done it as a flirty gesture but had seemingly forgot that he'd even done it in the first place.

For Minho, however, it was the straw that broke the camels back. Newt? Sure, whatever. He could get it - he liked Newt as much as anyone would, he was his best-friend after all. But Gally? Seriously?

He was on his feet before he'd even processed what he was doing himself, marching over to you. Gally said something, gaining your attention, which is why it startled you when Minho grabbed your wrist. You turned, prepared to rip your hand away only to soften when you realised who it was.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

You blinked at him. Minho was hard to read and his ever-changing personality and treatment of you had you lost most days. You glanced at Newt, who seemed equally stunned at Minho's sudden confidence.

"Yeah, course, what's up?" He simply nodded in a different direction, gesturing for you to both leave to have a private conversation. You pushed Gally's arm away from you, thoughtlessly following Minho as he dragged you away.

He let go once you'd left the buzzing crowd of the Bonfire and you silently followed him to the edge of the Deadheads. He stopped near one of the closest trees and turned to face you.

"Is everything... okay?" You felt nervous, fiddling with the hem of your jacket, something Minho noticed.

"Uh, yeah," he took a deep breath, collecting himself. He didn't know what he was doing but, low and behold, he was doing it.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Right, yeah," he cleared his throat, "okay, this is gonna sound shuckin' weird but I've just gotta say it, okay?"

"Okay." You tried to stay calm, but you could feel the bubble of stress starting to form. Did he know? Had Newt spilled the beans? Was he about to reject your silent desires?

"So, I, uh, I think I know you," you once again blinked at him and he shuffled awkwardly, "I don't know how to describe it - I just do. Ever since you first came up in the Box, I just- I just wanted to be around you."

"I thought you were avoiding me?"

"Well I was, kinda, I didn't want to get distracted from running- and then there was the dreams and I didn't know how I'd even talk to you and-" Minho had started rambling pretty quick. All his stress from the past few months starting to pour out.

"Dreams?" Minho froze. How exactly was he going to explain that bit? Why the shuck did he mention it to begin with?

"Uh, yeah, I don't wanna- I mean I didn't mean to- you're just so- shuck!" He exclaimed, his face growing redder by the second, "I'm bad at this. I don't know why I brought that up."

"I'm not gonna judge you, dude," you reassured him. "I understand brain klunk and it's weird. Dreams are normal."

"Yeah, but not these ones," he sighed, pausing to gain some courage, "I've been having these dreams, about us, uh... doing.. things."

"Huh?" You tilted your head. Then it clicked, and it was now your turn to get flustered. "Oh! Oh. Oh, right."

"Yeah," he scratched the back of his neck, refusing to make eye contact. "I don't know what it is, but I like you. Like, I really like you. And I know that's weird because we've only been friends for a couple of weeks but I can't help it. I don't want to think of these things but I can't help it and it's starting to cause a problem." He finally looked at you for a second. His rambling caused him to repeat himself as he stopped thinking about what he was saying before he said it.

Your expression was blank as you tried to process everything he was saying. He seemed genuine, and genuinely embarrassed about the whole thing.

"Sorry," his eyes fell to the floor, "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable and you can shut me down and we can just be friends- I don't care about that as long as we're fine. But watching Gally hang off you, and the new Greenies look at you. And the way you and Newt flirt all the time- it just, shit, it just makes me mad, dude. I can't take it, watching everyone want you when I want you too. I mean-"

"Minho-"

"It's driving me mad. Everything you do is stuck in my head-"

"Minho-" you stepped forward, though he's too in his own head to even notice.

"I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. And Alby was saying all this klunk and-"

You cut him off. Lifting his chin to look at you, you pressed your lips to his. He froze, completely. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

"Shut up, Slinthead," you mumbled, pulling away slightly, basically saying it into his mouth, "I know you too. I want you too."

That was enough for Minho. He pushed his lips against yours. It was sudden and bold as he pushed against you. Your bodies moulded together as your arms went around the back of his neck, your fingers brushing the short hairs at the base of his head. His hands went to your waist under your jacket, pulling you impossibly closer.

The kiss quickly becomes passionate and heated, his fingers brushing against your skin under your shirt, padding against your flesh. You hummed in response, just pushing him further as he span you around. Backing you up against a tree, your back hit the bark, earning a squeak.

He broke the kiss and the way he looked at you made your knees weak. He gaze was full of a mix of lust and want, but also was loving and cautious. He didn't want to over step, but he was desperate. The frustrations were finally coming to the surface and he knew he had to stop himself.

"I can't..." He panted, "I can't do this anymore. I need you."

He was making you weak. It wasn't like you'd never been aroused before but this was different. You couldn't even form words as you connected back to him. A guttural, deep noise escaped his throat.

Things were moving fast as your hands left his neck, dipping lower and and under his shirt. Feeling his skin and his solid mid-drift. You grazed your nails against his skin and his teeth lightly brushed your bottom lip.

This wasn't the plan. But at the rate things were moving, you didn't want to stop it either.

"Holy shuck!" Newt exclaimed, dramatically throwing his hand over his eyes, scared to witness anything else unsightly.

You and Minho stopped, snapping to look at your embarrassed friend. Minho stepped back, awkwardly crossing his hands over his crotch as you tried to catch your breath.

Newt awkwardly peaked through his fingers before sighing from relief and lowering his hand.

"Uh, the Runners wanna talk to you about Maps or some klunk - Alby wants an update on how it's going."

Minho cleared his throat, "Right, yeah. I'll uh- yeah." He looked at you, "I'll uh, I'll catch you later, right?"

"Mhm."

"Cool." He brushed past Newt, not daring to make eye-contact, knowing he'd hear all about it later anyway.

Newt looked at you, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

"You finally spoke to him then?"

"Shut your shucking mouth, Slinthead."

Woah, Petri actually writing a piece of fanfiction? Mad. Anyway, here is my first actual writing piece on here and I know the TMR fandom is kinda dead, but I love Minho with my whole heart and he's probably one of my favourite all time characters, so I figured this would be a good place to start.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think. :))

#🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri tmr minho #🌿 petri writes tmr #🍃 petri tmr #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr minho #x reader #minho tmr x reader

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saerins · 4 months

Text

⋆୨ chapter four ୧˚ behind a box of reasons why

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter three - for a while, you were all mine <> next: chapter five - if not for this love of mine ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 7.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, abuse/gaslighting, some blood, trauma sharing | notes: sorry if there’s any mistakes !! rushed this out and had no time to proof >_< but heh i tried to keep angst minimal so enjoy <3

Tumultuous is a fair word to describe your honeymoon. Between being over the moon when Sae finally started acting like an actual husband to you and being down in the dumps when you realise that he’s still in contact with the ex-girlfriend that he had apparently promised to wait forever for, you’re still a little conflicted.

Still, you’re easy to appease, given how easily you believed him when he promised you he’d stay. You chalk it up to you being efficient—you’re not about to let your overactive imagination ruin your days. You’re just going to trust Sae, even with that little seed of doubt already planted in your mind.

There’s a part of you that believes he wouldn’t bother promising anything he didn’t mean; although you should know he could, given the day of your wedding, both of you lying through your teeths about loving each other. You’d like to believe that the present is different somehow.

It proves hard to do though, given how you’re achingly suspicious every single time a routine changes.

Like this morning, when Sae tells you he’s taken the day off and tells you it’s for no particular reason when you asked him about it. That paranoid voice in your head keeps wondering if he’s just using that time to meet with Mirin.

The chat messages you saw from her that day is an indication that they’re still on friendly terms, if anything. And somehow, it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

“Hey Y/N, you okay?”

Your coworker and best friend at work, Sumi, asks as she swivels her chair around to look at you, the concern lining her brows.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” you tell her, trying to brush it off as you offer the widest smile you can manage.

Sumi sighs, the scepticism clear on her face. “You’re always bottling things up to yourself,” she chides, with a hint of motherly affection your own lacks. “If you need to rant just remember I’ll listen to you anytime, okay?”

Days like this, you’re thankful for nice people like her who treat you normally despite knowing you’re the owner’s daughter. Even working in a subsidiary they own, it’s hard to escape the greedy ones who try to get close for perks.

“Thanks, Sumi,” you tell her, a genuine smile on your face this time. “Maybe I’ll take you up on it one day.”

You’re usually grounded, and you don’t usually allow stray thoughts to influence your mood or decisions. But somehow, it’s difficult when it comes to Sae, and you have to wonder whether it’s because this is the first time you think you’re in love with someone.

How would you know what it is, anyway? How should you know if it’s what you’re feeling? You’d thought Reo was someone you loved, but that felt entirely different. It was always comfortable, like a safe space that you’d rather keep stagnant than to try rocking the boat.

You think about it the entire trip home. Back home, where you’re wondering if Sae’s there, or whether he’s out with—god, you don’t even want to think her name.

When you open the door, you don’t see anyone there, and you feel a sinking in your chest. You’d been hoping that he’d be there and you can keep from overthinking, but maybe that’s asking too much. And just when you’re ready to give up and pour yourself a bath and hope to fall asleep while having one, you hear someone clearing their throat as you retreat down the corridor to your room.

Spinning around, you see your husband there, hair a mess and face stoic as usual, looking like how you first left him in the morning. You blink once, twice, wondering if you’re dreaming. Sae doesn’t usually like to stay cooped up in his room, which was why you’d thought he wasn’t home in the first place, but it looks like you thought wrong. (Yay!)

Sae’s about to speak when you cut him off.

“Oh! Right, dinner—let me put my stuff down and I’ll cook something up!” You’re already bounding down towards your room as Sae tries to call out your name, unfortunately falling on deaf ears.

But he doesn’t have to wait much to get a reaction out of you, your mind twirling a thousand possibilities in your head as to why the fuck your stuff are gone from your room.

Sae thinks it’s absolutely comical how the first things he hears out of your mouth are: “Sae, are you kicking me out? Where’d you send my stuff?”

Because in every single universe, that would be your first thought.

He doesn’t say a thing, only offering you a roll of his eyes and a sigh as he gestures with his hands for you to walk the other way.

So you do—slowly. You walk towards him, furrowed brows and eyes searching his expression for answers which, unfortunately, do not give anything away because he’s annoying like that.

Fifteen agonising seconds (for Sae) later, you open his bedroom door to find your “missing” items.

The books you’re reading are on one side of the nightstand, your clothes that you’d haphazardly collected on a pile on your chair are in a similar arrangement on the other side of the room where the study desk stands, and even your beloved Santa doll is situated on one side of the king-sized bed, sitting atop the pillow.

Turning around to face Sae again, you suddenly feel the guilt wash over you. While you were thinking that he’d go out and meet his old flame, he probably spent the whole time carefully moving everything over.

To his bedroom.

It takes you a while to really connect the dots.

Sae, on the other hand, is too impatient to wait for you to speak, your mouth slightly open and looking like a total idiot. For once, the expression you see on his face isn’t completely stoic. There’s a lilt in his eyes, and a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Okay, you figure out where the fuck your room is, and I’ll sit here and wait for you,” he tells you, the playful sarcasm dripping from his lips, his inviting subtle chuckle sounding like the signal of forever.

He sits down on the couch, idly flipping through the channels while you enter the bedroom further and take your time looking around. And by that, you mean to make sure you’re not dreaming.

You slap your face a couple times, you open the cupboard to ascertain your clothes are there, you peek into the bathroom to find that Sae is unexpectedly kind of corny because you find matching his and hers sets of toiletries.

A few minutes later, you find yourself at the doorway, Sae looking at you expectantly, brows raised. “Yes, wife?”

Now he thinks you’re kind of pathetic because he can see your face light up from just a little call of your title. But Sae thinks he might like that look on you. Maybe a little too much than he’s comfortable with.

Your excited grin dissolves into a sheepish one. “That sounds kinda corny.”

Sae shrugs, getting up off the couch, “guess that’s the last time I’ll call you that then—” But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because you slap your hand across his mouth, and Sae can almost laugh at how different you are from the first time he saw you. Still as pretty, just a little less reserved, a little more happy.

“I take that back,” you tell him, giggling and skipping away to the kitchen, not giving him any time for a rebuttal. “What do you feel like tonight? Fish?”

He follows you, looking over your shoulder as you get the food ready. “Anything, as long as you’re cooking,” Sae says, as if it’s normal that he says shit like that and it takes everything in you not to make too big a deal out of anything he says. “Oh, I’m going out drinking with the guys later by the way, so you can get to bed first.”

Yeah, as if you can get to bed when you’re that happy and excited. Later that night you just end up tossing and turning in bed, grinning yourself silly. And who can blame you? It’s the first proper time that Sae is solidifying that he’s had a change of heart. Even if it’s in spite of all your uncertainties. To which Reo had told you to try talking to him and asking him about it because he’s your husband and you really shouldn’t have to be afraid of talking about the difficult stuff when you have to be with him forever.

Reo’s right, you know that. But you’ll hold off on it. Only because you don’t want to possibly ruin this right after it barely started. It’s foolish, but you really don’t want to go back to square one.

Even if it’s the right thing to do.

That night, Sae gets home only after three, to which he finds you peacefully sleeping on your side of the bed, phone still with its screen lit up. You must’ve been scrolling through it before you passed out.

If he was sober, maybe he would’ve allowed himself to think that this gesture of his was just a whim, that it was a moment of weakness. That you don’t really mean all that much to him. After all, how could you, when he just met you not long ago?

But he finds himself treading carefully, and he finds himself moving quietly, all in the name of not disturbing your sleep. And maybe he can’t convince himself you don’t mean that much to him anymore.

While he gently settles himself on the other side of the bed, your phone buzzes and Sae looks over, your text chat with Reo left open on your screen. The slept already? weak. message he just sent you would’ve been left at that by Sae, except he sees one message at the top, a night, stupid. call me if you need anything.

And so maybe he feels more for you than he thinks. Because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that message especially because Reo’s your best friend but Sae’s stupid in relationships and he scrolls a little bit upwards and sees the previous message from Reo.

maybe i should marry you instead, sae who 😇

It’s irrational how much it can bother him. Even if it’s dated over a month ago.

When you wake up the next morning, you find yourself pressed up against Sae, his head atop of yours, his arms wrapped around your waist. His breathing’s slow and steady and he’s definitely not up for work, it looks like. And neither are you, because this moment feels precious and you’re not sure what spurred that on, to hug you to sleep out of nowhere, maybe it’s the alcohol, but whatever it is, you’re thankful for it.

At times like this, you’re grateful for the fact that your parents own the company. They’ll be fine if their daughter ditches a day of work. Especially since this was what they wanted from the start—for the marriage to work.

ok, i’ll pick you up later. see you, stupid.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

Frantically, you try to suppress your grin and lock your phone screen, but it doesn’t escape her—your reason for being happy.

“Meeting your husband for dinner tonight?” Sumi asks, looking like she’s been bored out of her mind for the past half hour anyway.

Deciding it’s pointless to act coy, you nod. “Managed to convince him to cook with me so we’re just gonna stop by the market later.”

“Wow, look at you guys,” she cajoles, nudging you playfully on the elbow. “You know, the first few weeks of your marriage you looked absolutely miserable, I was beginning to wonder if he was abusing you or something.”

You laugh awkwardly, because you can’t blame her for that. For the first few weeks you’d been spacing out at work, going home looking so downtrodden, and then going back to work looking like a zombie. It’s not that much of a stretch for Sumi to think so.

“If he ever treats you like shit, you tell me, okay?” Sumi tells you, looking as fierce as she can muster. Which is funny because she’s a small petite-sized girl, not any older than you and has such pretty brown doe eyes that it’s almost more adorable than angry. “I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

Later on, when Sae waits for you in his car at the lobby, Sumi follows you, curious to see what your husband even looks like because she wasn’t invited to your wedding despite your adamant requests to your parents to include her. Lucky for you, she’s understanding enough.

“Hey, from here your husband looks kinda handsome,” she whispers to you, trying to make out what he really looks like from behind the tinted windows, but it’s hard to see especially when Sae has his shades on. Still, Sumi tries to wear her cynical face, “but a husband who doesn’t even open the door for his wife? What a—”

As if sensing her cynicism, Sae hops out of his car at that moment, black Burberry wool coat shielding him from the cold. He looks straight out of a magazine that you can’t even blame Sumi for gaping as he walks over.

“Hey, ready to go?” He asks you, ignoring Sumi at the side who’s completely gone mute.

“Yeah let’s go,” you tell him, internally laughing at how meek Sumi turns, reminding yourself to make fun of her tomorrow for it until your mind goes completely blank as Sae plants a kiss on your cheek.

You’ve been able to process when his affections go on in private, or around strangers who barely pay any attention, but when he kisses you in front of your friend, you’re half-embarrassed and half-flattered.

Sae puts his hand on the small of your back, starting to guide you to the passenger seat before he turns back to look at Sumi. “Do you need a ride too?”

Sumi hurriedly waves both her hands, shaking her head. “No no, it’s fine I wouldn’t want to interrupt your date,” she tells him, and you snicker. She’s being a whole lot more polite than you’re used to her being but you suppose it’s not weird for people to be intimidated by Sae.

He nods curtly in acknowledgement before he goes around to the driver’s seat, Sumi mouthing a ‘have fun’ as she winks at you.

That’s exactly what you plan to do—you and Sae being at the grocery store together makes you feel like everyday life with Sae, even if it’s doing something simple like this, it really won’t be so bad. His initial cold shoulder and semi-hostile nature has completely gone, and he’s been initiating a lot of things too that you wouldn’t feel right doubting him too much over whatever you might’ve seen back in Korea. Or maybe it’s just your aversion to confrontation that’s speaking.

Either way, you decide to shove it to the back of your mind for the future you to deal with.

A flick to your forehead brings you back to Sae, his deadpan face unamused as he finishes the self-checkout.

“What’re you daydreaming about?”

With a cheeky grin, you shake your head. “Nothingggg.”

Sae clicks his tongue, brushing his card against the reader and doesn’t even wait for the receipt before he’s pushing the trolley full of dinner out to the car. “Mm, must be about me then.”

You feel the heat creep up to your cheeks, pouting as he raises a brow at you, taunting you to deny him. But you don’t, because you’re honest to a fault and Sae knows that.

He suppresses a grin, looking smug as he loads the food onto the trunk, earning a smack on his arms from you.

The ride back to the apartment is so different from the first that you can barely believe it. Sae’s cursing out everyone he had to deal with at work today and you know he’s only doing it because he’s comfortable with you now and it warms your heart. Compared to the first time where he barely spoke to you or even deigned to look at you, you’re impossibly happy right now, your playlist blasting over the speakers while Sae entertains your questions about his day.

“If you hate it so much, why’d you agree to take over the business then?” You ask, though quietly, because you’re not sure if it’s too sensitive of a question.

Sae goes silent for a second, like he’s considering whether he wants to tell you. “There was something else I wanted to do.”

He’s not really answering you, but he’s trying to give you something, and that’s all you really need.

“What was it?”

By instinct, he drives slower whenever he’s thinking. His hand on the joystick tenses up a little, gripping it slightly tighter before he ultimately releases it and shakes his head. He looks in your direction before looking back to the road ahead.

“I’ll tell you next time, okay?”

If he isn’t ready to share, then you’re not willing to press him either.

“Okay.”

By the time you reach home, the atmosphere between you and Sae has dissolved to normal, and you’re all for a wonderful date night in, happily thinking how you should torture Sae by giving him some insanely difficult tasks just to see how he would handle it—until you realise the world loves giving you bad surprises.

The moment you open the front door, your laughter dissipates, replaced by a perplexed smile as you notice the two guests sitting in the living room.

“Darling, there you are!”

Your mother bursts forward to hug you while your father remains expressionless, standing in the bright living room, black suit a stark contrast against the white walls.

Behind you, Sae sticks close, whispering an are you okay? in your ear, waiting for your nod before he relegates to the kitchen to put down the groceries.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, we had a copy of the key since we were helping to furnish the place for you both and we just missed our baby so much that we wanted to drop by,” your mother announces, and you already want to gag from the amount of bullshit you hear.

This is definitely not normal parenting.

“Would you like some tea?”

From the kitchen, you can already hear Sae brewing something. You want to help him, but your mind goes numb, drawing a blank. It’s never good news whenever you see your parents. Their care has always been a ruse for some other agenda, and you don’t know if you want to know what they’re really here for.

Questions fill your mind. Questions like why must they come at such a time? or why are they here at all? and then comes the feeling of impending doom all because that since you’ve been young, you’d only ever been taught that your parents’ will are absolute and that you’d rather die than have to disobey and suffer the consequences.

But a warm hand on yours begs to differ. Before then, you didn’t even realise you were trembling.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sae’s right there, beside you, already made sure your parents are distracted by the tea. Calloused fingers intertwined with yours, a gentle squeeze—one, two, three times—to get you to calm down.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really.”

“Sure you don’t wanna just tell ‘em to go?”

“I can’t.”

Two simple words and Sae doesn’t ask any more. There’s a certain kind of comfort to know that he’s here with you, that he’s someone like you, that he knows what you’re going through and out of everyone, he would understand. Two older siblings who unfortunately have to obey their parents’ every wish for probably different reasons and yet suffer in the same way anyway.

“Let’s go,” he tells you, gently dragging you by the pinky. “I’ll take your side whatever it is, so don’t worry so much. We’ll get them out of here in no time.”

Sae makes it sound so easy he makes you nearly believe it. But you of all people know your parents are anything but easy.

About five minutes into small talk (and by that you mean that they’re skirting around, asking about all the pictures hung up in the house, asking why you two still looked kind of awkward when your pictures show otherwise, and last but not least a very awkward question your mum threw about asking for a grandson to which Sae had choked on his tea), your father wastes no more time trying to get to the point.

“So, Sae, how’s our daughter treating you?”

Caught off guard by the question, Sae clears his throat, picking his words wisely. “She’s perfect, sir. Why do you ask?”

Internally, you’re grateful he’s being more polite than he usually cares to be. Can he feel you stressing out beside him?

“Nothing, just curious.” Your father throws you a dirty stare before focusing his attention back on Sae. “So nothing’s been off, then? Everything’s all good?”

Sae’s just as confused as you are, but he keeps his cool, nodding. “Everything’s great. We were actually having a date night in before, well, we saw the both of you here.”

Your father doesn’t say anything much after that. Your mother does most of the talking, but you know this is all just part of their plan. That’s what they always do. Your father is the one who’s straight to business, doesn’t waste his time or energy speaking in some roundabout manner. But he’s not a businessman for nothing—you can’t get anywhere without establishing a connection, and that’s always where your mother comes in. She’s always charming to people who aren’t aware of the inner workings in your family. That��s why you’re immune to it. And after hearing so many negative things surrounding your parents, it looks like Sae is as well.

The next ten, twenty minutes are carried by your mother, talking about anything and everything in the world. Sae talks more so you don’t have to.

“It’s fine, you can pick that up, we’ll have some alone time with our daughter,” your father says after noticing that Sae’s phone has been vibrating for a while now. There’s a pattern—his phone vibrates, Sae silences it, it starts vibrating again. Like the caller either has some emergency or they know nothing about personal space.

Sae’s about to reject again when you put your hand over his, squeezing it in the same way he did. “It’s fine, just go.” And come back soon because I don’t want to be left alone with them for too long—you try to telepathically implant that thought in his head, anxiety gripping tightly onto you.

It’s not like he wants to leave you defenceless, either. He of all people know what toxic parents are like and yours are class A vultures. But he’ll get this call out of the way and then switch his phone off and help you get out of whatever this is.

But then he sees the caller ID and he stills for a minute before picking it up. “Mirin?”

Over the phone, he can hear her muffled voice, saying his name and then a string of words he can’t understand.

“Hey slow down, what’s wrong?”

Mirin’s just sniffling now, and maybe it’s because of all the years of friendship and relationship they had that she can still tug on Sae’s heartstring.

“Remember that you said you’d be there for me if I needed you?” She asks, half sobbing in between. Sae doesn’t know what to answer her, so he keeps quiet. “I really really need you right now.”

Sae hesitates a little. “How bad is it? Can it wait because—”

Mirin’s sobbing gets even louder. “No, please, I just… I really need you here, Sae.”

Maybe it’s because he rarely ever heard her cry like this. Or maybe it’s because of how it’s different when there’s someone crying and begging for him that the words just slip out of his mouth before he realises it.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me, yeah?”

Out in the dining room, you’re drumming your fingers nervously on your thighs, shrinking under the heat of your father’s gaze.

“So, have you been behaving, Y/N?” It’s your father speaking, and he’s as relentless as ever. The moment Sae is out of earshot, he’s back to his authoritative tone, the one that he used to ring terror on you and your little sister as children. The one he still uses to this day to assert his authority over you. To remind you that you’re being seen as his properties, that you’re just a cog in the machine that runs for him.

Even if you’re not sure what he’s referring to, you nod anyway. You haven’t done anything wrong.

Somehow, you feel like nothing you do can appease him, because the next moment, he’s heaving a deep sigh, getting up and sitting himself in Sae’s seat, flipping his iPad open and scrolling through something on the screen.

What he shows you next makes your heart sink to your ass.

It’s a picture of when you met Reo last, before you went to Korea, when you were confiding in him about Mirin. There’s nothing wrong with meeting him, you know that. In fact, your parents keep a good relationship with his for a reason. They just never pushed you to marry Reo because there are bigger fish; namely, the Itoshis. But what’s wrong with it is the angle from which it was taken; it’s from behind Reo, and the way he’s leaning forward and your eyes happen to be closed, it looks like you’re kissing him.

You can tell your father a thousand times that that’s not what’s going on and that the angle is misleading, but you know that’s not what he’s nitpicking about. It’s about how you carry yourself, you can recall from those lessons he tried to instil in you as a child. It’s about not giving anyone else anything to say anything about.

“We were just having—”

“I don’t care, Y/N,” your father sighs, rubbing his temples, entirely frustrated for god knows what reason. “I don’t care if you want to be a fucking tramp and fool around with someone else when you’re already married. But if you do so, you better make fucking sure no one sees you.”

There must be an art to how he can say words so cruel, filled with toxin and yet his face remains so straight. There must also be an art on how to not give two fucks because your mother’s in her original seat, sipping on her tea as though this is a normal evening as any.

“Dad, I’m not doing anything wrong with—”

“Do you know how hard it was for us to convince the Itoshis that you’d make an excellent wife?” He cuts you off once again, spitting words that could break your bones. “And here you are, flaunting around town with that Mikage boy.”

Is it bad to say you’ve lost all will to fight when you realise your parents don’t care one bit if you’re in the right or wrong? You want to ask how they managed to get such a picture too, but you doubt they’d entertain anything from you right now.

“You know, we thought you were finally useful after all this time,” your father ponders out loud, eyes fixed on the marble tabletop instead of at his own daughter. “But here you go again, making a mess of everything.”

You’re about to speak, but this time it’s your mother that cuts you off.

“Honey, I don’t think you realise the gravity of the situation,” she says, her voice silky smooth and calm even though what she’s saying is quite the opposite. “This marriage marked a wonderful partnership with the Itoshi company, the merger is almost finished and we don’t want you to ruin it all by wasting your time with some second-rate boy.”

That must be the first time you feel the anger bubbling up and threatening to burst where all other times you’d feel scared. To call Reo second-rate is uncalled for, and your fist clenches, ready to argue, when you hear your father chuckling beside you.

“Looks like this girl can’t control her temper either,” he says, as though you aren’t even here. “That Mikage boy aside, looks like our poor girl here can’t even control her finances.”

“What?”

By now you’re more than just a little confused. You’re used to them having a say in everything when you still lived with them. But now that you’ve already moved out, you’re already used to the freedom that came with not having to worry about them criticising your every move. Turns out, that was premature. Even after moving out, they still make sure to keep track of every single thing.

“Tell me why there’s barely any money left in your account,” your father demands, tone lacking any sort of sympathy and choosing to go full on accusatory. “Did you just go insane and spend it all? Did we bring you up to be a spoiled brat, is that it?”

There’s a dagger to your heart with every single syllable. Finally coming to terms with the fact that your parents never loved you nor cared about your wellbeing hits harder than you expected. They didn’t miss their daughter nor did they care about her happiness in the marriage. It was only ever about them them them.

“I didn’t—”

“Honestly, after all this time you still haven’t learned to control yourself. First it’s with Mikage and now it’s with money—”

“I’m afraid that was my doing, actually.” Sae cuts your father off, stepping in for you, reappearing at the kitchen doorway. His teal eyes are cold, staring straight at your father. “I told her to move it to a joint account since we’ll be sharing finances.”

Your father narrows his gaze, shifting his attention to your husband, your hands shaking under the table. Why does it feel like some bad confrontation is going to happen? One thing’s for sure: your father doesn’t like that rebellious tone of his.

“And what makes you think you qualify for that? What if you try to swindle my dearest daughter out of all her money? As her father I’m sure you can understand why I have my concerns.”

For the most part, it looks like Sae is unfazed, and why wouldn’t he be? From what you gather, it doesn’t look like he’s had such an easy childhood either.

“Then as her father, I’m pretty sure you’d want the best for your daughter, right?” Sae asks, more taunting than anything. “She’s chosen to put her trust in me, so I’m handling it. She doesn’t have to worry. Sounds like a good deal, no?”

Sensing the defiance oozing out of Sae, your father goes back to his favourite target: you.

“Is that right? You trust your husband over your father’s words now?”

The threat in his eyes is real. They’re daring you to go against him, like they just know you’re way too scared to. But then you catch the pair of eyes behind him—the teal ones that look at you gentler than they’ve ever been—and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so scary.

A single nod of affirmation from Sae is enough to give you that pump of courage that you need.

“I trust Sae a hundred percent,” is all you say, deciding that’s enough to get your point across.

But maybe you’d been obedient a little too long, and you’d been spared from how harsh your father could be for too many seasons that you didn’t see it coming. You’d forgotten how cruel he can be, both mentally and physically.

With his hand raised, you watch it go up the same angle like it always did back then, and you’re reminded now of just how much force is behind one of his slaps. You remember the way your little sister cried as she hugged her teddy bear, watching you take the blame for her mistakes and bearing the brunt of your father’s anger. Your eyes squeeze shut, the fear taking over.

You wait for it to land, but it doesn’t.

When your eyes open, Sae’s there, his hand around your father’s wrist, a vein appearing on his forehead as he stares him down.

“You may be her father, but I’ll have to tell you this: don’t you dare hit my wife.” Sae’s more menacing than you thought he could be. His knuckles are white, your father feeling the force before yanking his own hand away.

As always, he’ll look at you with all the hatred he can muster, unwilling to back down. “You ungrateful little bitch—” His words still hurt, but you catch sight of the pot of tea he’s thrusting towards you and you squeal, instinctively cowering backwards. Either way, either the scalding hot tea or the porcelain with which it’s made is going to hit you.

But once again, you’re proven right to trust Sae, because he’s in front of you in a heartbeat, shielding your body from any harm, letting the pot hit the floor, breaking into countless little pieces, some tea splattering onto your arm and you can’t even imagine how badly Sae got hit.

Still, he doesn’t wince even a little bit. He’s still staring at your father, but with his back facing you, you can’t really see him.

“Mr L/N, this is the last time I’m going to tell you nicely. If you dare to hurt Y/N again, I’ll personally stop the dealings myself.”

Your father bursts out laughing at Sae’s declaration, as if he doesn’t believe that Sae has that sort of authority. In all honesty, you’re not sure if he has. But you appreciate the thought. You’re still a little shaken up, eyeing all the little sharp pieces of glass all around the floor.

“Honey.” Your mother’s voice is soft but firm, and she’s only glaring at your father. It’s a look that tells him he needs to back off. It’s a warning, only because she’s his only anchor. She doesn’t care about any of this that’s going on, only at the fact that offending Sae might put their relationship with the Itoshis at risk.

Clicking his tongue, your father rolls his eyes and gets up and you can’t even wish for him to accidentally step on a piece of glass because he’s wearing his shoes in the house. Always prepared.

“Suit yourself,” is his last parting words before he strolls out of the apartment, banging the door shut behind him and leaving you two to the mess.

The first thing you do after they leave is get up and make sure Sae’s okay—although you’re quick to realise he’s not, because his pants are soaked with the tea and there are cuts on his feet and ankles, none too deep but they are still the result of your father’s temper and you feel only guilt. He got into this shit because he was trying to defend you.

But you find out that you’re always underestimating Sae when you feel his strong grip around your arm, preventing you from moving even more.

“Hey, careful, you’ll get hurt,” he tells you, harshly but only because he cares.

You manage a weak smile, “says the one who’s already hurt.”

Sae chuckles, ruffling your hair. “It’s fine, just some small cuts. But you really weren’t lying about your parents. Real piece of work.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are sitting on the couch, Sae letting you tend to his wounds. You have the first aid kit out, and the mess in the dining room is long gone, both you and Sae’s date night ruined because of it.

“Sorry about him. He’s… always been like that.”

There’s a sombre mood in the air, but Sae sighs and flicks you on the forehead. “It’s not your fault, don’t apologise.”

You smile at him, a quiet understanding falling into place. You don’t need to explain your father’s temper and Sae doesn’t need your apologies.

“For what it’s worth, thank you.”

Sae nods, though he feels there’s nothing to thank him for. It may have taken him a while, but he’s figuring this out slowly. If anything, he’s sorry it’s taking him so long. It’s just that since the longest time, there was only one person he’d thought of marrying and now… there’s you.

Your hand reaches out to his feet, dabbing alcohol lightly on the cuts, and Sae doesn’t even flinch. You slowly reach the cuts on his ankle until you freeze.

“It won’t hurt so don’t worry,” Sae tells you, as if you’re the one that needs consoling.

You furrow your brows, unsure, though you heed his words and dab on it lightly. There’s a big scar lining his ankles, and now that he’s changed out into his shorts, you see a similar one lining his knees. All on the right side.

“You can ask if you want to.”

Trust it to Sae to figure out what’s going on in your head.

“How did you get it?”

Sae smiles, but it’s filled with more melancholy than mirth. His eyes seem like they’re gazing into thin air. “Your father seems to use his own physicality when he’s unhappy with something,” Sae ponders, eyes focusing back on your face. “Mine tends to leave me alone. Until I leave him with no other choice but to hire other people to do the hurting.”

You listen to him as you tend to all the cuts, trying to be gentler with the red on his skin, burned slightly from the tea.

“I told you I wanted to do something else right?”

You nod.

“I was dead set on a soccer career instead of taking over the business.”

“You mean, like Rin is now?”

Sae nods. “Yep. Exactly like Rin. Taught that little guy everything he knew.” He chuckles a little, and you can see how fond he is of his little brother, even if he doesn’t express it all that much. “But once they found out both of us wanted nothing to do with their business, that’s when things got ugly. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say they have a certain vision that they wanted me to uphold, and this—” he gestures to the scars on his leg—“was a warning of what would happen to Rin if I refused.”

As an older sibling yourself, you guess you can understand why Sae quit. But going so far as to hurt your own children like that—both your father and his seem to be assholes in their own rights.

“Can you still play at all?” You ask, out of genuine curiosity.

Sae sighs, pondering. “Yeah, but I get tackled once and that’s probably it for me,” he says, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh. “Why? Wanna watch me play that bad?”

You grin. “Depends, is my dear husband gonna let me?”

Sae’s brows raise in surprise. “Oh, someone’s getting comfortable,” he points out, and you can’t stop grinning, earning a shake of his head. “Maybe next time, stupid. We still got dinner.”

“Okay since you’re hurt, I’m gonna cook, okay?”

“I got a few cuts, I’m not a cripple.”

“La la la can’t hear you,” you hum, winking at him before skipping over to the kitchen, intent on saving date night by at least cooking a decent dinner.

Back at the couch, Sae suppresses a smile as he looks at you, and he wonders what is it about you that he can’t shake off, that he can’t help but let in. He tilts his head in wonder; maybe it’s your adamant nature. In how you’re always nice no matter how much of an asshole he is.

After seeing what your father is like, he feels the guilt building up from the back of his head. If that’s what you had to endure everyday as a child, he doesn’t find your demeanour now to be all that weird.

Before he can even think of anything else, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Fuck, it’s Mirin. It’s Mirin who he’d promised to go find because whatever it is she’s going through, it sounds like a lot and she’s sobbing her guts out, apparently. And now he doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

“Do you want spicy or garlicky?”

It’s something so small, so tiny—just your voice from the kitchen, the clanging of pans as you hurry to cook a dish for him, and the fact that he knows you’d let him go if he told you he has somewhere to be.

Just like that, the answer isn’t so complicated anymore.

He rejects the call and opens up her message thread, typing in a won’t make it tonight, sorry before he switches off his phone.

“Mmm, garlicky,” he says the moment he reaches you, standing behind you as he watches you mix the sauce together.

You bring a spoonful up to your lips, tasting it. “Think it needs some salt, what about you?” You ask, offering him the small concoction in your saucer pan.

But Sae doesn’t take it, instead he leans forward and presses his lips against yours, his tongue savouring every single inch of you he can taste, his hand on your waist, pulling you close.

When he pulls away, you can’t help but stare at him blankly, in a daze because is this really happening? Sae can tell what’s going on in your head, but he throws you a bone by not teasing you about it.

“I think it’s perfect.”

By the next time you see Sumi in the office, she can sense the radiant glow from your face, hurriedly rushing over to your desk.

“Wow, I take it date night went well?”

You nod, not being able to contain your surprise. “Very well.”

Sumi asks for the details, and you divulge, since at this point, Sumi’s the one you trust the most. Even if she’s a little loud most of the time, you’re sure that you can call her a good friend.

“I’m so jealous, your marriage sounds like a dream,” she gushes while the two of you are having lunch.

You hesitate a little, the mention of it makes you think back to the Mirin issue. So far, you haven’t seen anything else that are any red flags, so at least that’s a step in the right direction… right?

“Uh oh, I know that look, tell me!”

So you give her the bare minimum, about how Sae had an ex-girlfriend who he seemingly can’t get over, about her calling him during the honeymoon and your little stalking spree. Sumi immediately does the same, typing in her phone before scrolling through her posts, unimpressed.

“She looks like she’s trouble,” Sumi remarks offhandedly, thumb pressing on the story that she apparently just uploaded five minutes ago and you completely freeze up. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Her story seems completely innocent until you realise you can tell exactly where she is: in your own house, at your own kitchen, taking a picture where Sae’s hand is barely visible, no doubt in a bid to make it seem mysterious.

“She’s in my fucking house.”

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