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multifandomgirl08 · 2 months

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Caught [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship), Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader x Lando Norris (Platonic)

Summary: Lando swears he knocked before walking into Max's hotel room, maybe he should have yelled before opening the door.

Warning(s): 18+ Implied sexual content, accidental?? voyeurism (Lando)

A/N: Little deviation from the normal chapter for this series as there is no Nico. This is an out-take that I just couldn’t hold onto any longer. It does have a bit of adult content, and although this series didn't have any before it was fun to work out of my comfort zone for this while helping me cure my writer's block.

This is a scene I reference in the third social media post in Through Max's Eyes. You get to finally read what happened in Barcelona 2023 with Lando, Max, and the reader.

Words: 1.9k

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Lando

After the disappointing race today Lando needed to get out of his head a bit. He had suggested to a few of the drivers about going out to a club to get drinks and blow off some steam.

He heard back from almost everyone except Max, he wasn't replying in the grid group chat. He knew that Max was probably on the phone with Y/N or talking to his son Nico after the race.

He didn't really understand how Max could manage his son, girlfriend, and career all at once.

He had asked Daniel which was Max's room number at the hotel they were all staying at. Daniel had texted him back, 331.

Lando was making his way down the hallway as the numbers kept going up.

300 - 320, on one sign 321 - 340 on another.

He followed the hallway down until he got to 330. Then on the opposite side was 331, the door was cracked open a bit, maybe Max forgot to close it all the way when he had come up after the race.

He knocked waiting a moment, and knocked again a little louder but heard nothing back. Maybe Max was playing FIFA or had headphones on and wasn't paying attention to the door.

Lando pushed the hotel door open to walk into the room.

"Max?" He asked, his eyes scanning the room before he heard a breathy moan come from behind the open set of double doors.

This should have been Lando's cue to leave Max's hotel room and make sure to close the door behind him. But his feet pushed him on towards the sound. Maybe Max was watching a movie or something, or on the phone with Y/N. There were lots of possibilities.

He walked closer before his eyes met the empty bed. It was as if his ears had finally picked up on the sounds in the room. There was the sound of someone moaning again.

His eyes fell to the floor, shoes discarded, navy team polo by the chair in the corner, a pile of black fabric kicked off to the side.

Lando's eyes started their ascension at the carpeted floor, scanning upwards. Black high heels and bare feet, large hands reached down to pick the girl up, before she settled her legs around the guy's waist. He could barely make out that this guy had his jeans undone. A black bra strap fell off her shoulder and started to expose her to him.

"Zo goed voor mij." He heard in Max's voice but deeper in tone. It was barely above a whisper hearing the guy tell her how good she was for him.

"Max," Lando's ears had never heard you sound like this before. Yearing, desperate. He saw, what he knew were your hands moving up a broad back before a hand dropped to the band of blue denim jeans trying to push them down.

“Zo wanhopig voor mij.” There was the voice again, his understanding of Dutch catching up with him again calling her desperate, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know for what.

Being in the room watching made sights and sounds seem like two different things that blended into one another.

His eyes eventually followed a delicate hand up to short brown hair, seeing a stubble-peppered cheek drop out of his view. Causing the woman to move to the right, covering both of their faces from his view. As the man pulled away from the woman Lando met the eyes of Max as if it fully dawned on him who he had been watching.

His eyes jumped up the wall and then back, to see Max standing there in jeans, and Y/N, against the wall in nothing but heels, and her underwear with her bra straps falling down her shoulders.

"Lando?" He heard from Max, their eyes meeting for a millisecond, blue on hazel.

Lando bolted out of there, leaving his question and the ability to look Y/N in the eyes behind him. He pulled the handle of the door along with him, the loud bang made his ears ring for a few moments.

Lando rushed down the corridor room after room not paying attention to where he was walking.

“Hello Lando,” He heard from Pierre and saw him standing there with Daniel.

“Lando,” Daniel said, “You okay mate?”

Lando just shook his head no, looking down at the horrible pattern on the carpeted floor. He couldn’t tell Daniel or Pierre what he had walked into, they would never let him live it down.

“It can not be that bad.” He heard from Pierre.

“It’s pretty bad.” He moved to lean against the wall, knocking his head into it.

“Come on, Lando.” Daniel started to say pulling him away from the wall.

“Okay, but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone else, not Charles,” He said to Pierre, “And not to Martin.” Lando pointed at Daniel. He knew that Max was close friends with Martin and he didn’t want Martin to know that he had walked in on Max sleeping with Y/N. He didn’t think he could deal with the teasing.

They both nodded back at him. Yeah right.

“Have either of you ever walked in on your parents… you know…” He kept trailing off. He couldn’t say going at it. It felt wrong.

Pierre looked at him for a moment, and Daniel said nothing before Lando saw the recognition fill both of their faces.

“Oh, Lando did you walk in on your parent growing up or something?” Pierre teased at him.

“No!” He objected. “Not my parents…” He took his time getting the words out.

Time to break down the story in full detail.

“I went to see if Max wanted to go get drinks at the club after the race. I walked to his room to see if he was going to go, and the door was open a bit. I knocked, but no one answered, so I went in. I saw…” He trailed off. “I saw Max and Y/N going at it.”

“Lando, Y/N isn’t here. Isn’t she in England for some work conference or something?” Daniel said. He moved to pull out his phone as if he was going to text Max and ask.

Lando reached for it to stop him.

“It was Y/N, I swear it was.” This whole thing just rubbed Lando the wrong way. Max was his friend, and Y/N was Max’s girlfriend. Lando knew that Max had sex before given that he had a kid, he just never thought he would see Max actually about to do it for himself one day.

“It’s fine, we believe you, that it was Y/N.”

“Lando.” He heard coming from down the hall. There stood Max in dark wash jeans, and a white button-up shirt, and holding his hand was Y/N in a black dress that cut off at her thighs.

Shit! Eyes to the floor, eyes to the fucking floor man.

“Lando,” He heard from Y/N. Her voice was almost motherly in tone. It just made an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine.

“I’m sorry,” He blurted out hanging his head. “I didn’t mean to see. It was an accident, I swear.”

He couldn’t look at either of them. Sure Max was only older than him by two years, and Y/N was right around the same age as far as he could guess, not that he actually knew how old she was.

“It’s fine Lando, I’m sure you didn’t mean to see me and Max-” Y/N started to say.

“Going at it like rabbits,” Daniel interjected behind them.

“What are you talking about Daniel? We still had clothes on.” Max stated. Lando knew that was half a lie. Max had clothes on, and Y/N was pretty close to having nothing on. Lando couldn’t help but think back for a moment to the image that flashed across his mind, it was oddly erotic and would have been hot if he didn’t think of Y/N as a type of mother figure in his life.

“You can’t detail a car with the cover on,” Daniel quotes to the group. Lando looked up just slightly, enough to see Pierre who looked confused.

“What do you mean, can’t detail a car?” Max asked. “I was kissing my girlfriend, Daniel, I wasn’t thinking about a car.”

“Really? The first Fast and the Furious movie. I’m disappointed in all of you.” Lando could see the happy expression fall from Daniel’s face. If it were any other time, and anything else was going on Lando would have remembered what Daniel was quoting, but as of right now he was a little too modified to do so.

“Whatever,” Lando said turning to Max and Y/N but didn’t make an effort to meet their eyes. “I’m sorry I walked in without making myself known. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine Lando,” Y/N said to him. “I’ll just make sure the next time I try to surprise Max, I’ll tell someone first.”

“I like your surprises,” Max said giving her a wide, eye-crinkling smile. He pulled her into him, and Lando dropped his eyes to the floor once again. Too soon.

“So… Drinks? Bar?” Daniel asked. Pierre nodded, and Lando followed quickly after. Max and Y/N however said nothing. The sounds of kissing quickly became audible to his ears.

“Max, mate.” Daniel started to say. “Maybe keep the necking in public to a min. We’ve got young eyes here.” Lando could feel Daniel’s hand on his shoulder after he said that. He knew that Daniel was just teasing him a bit, but he still didn’t like it.

“I’m not that young.” He fired back at Daniel.

“Uh yeah, you are, if you caught these two about to go at it and ran away.” Lando couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He was never going to be able to live this down, was he?

“Have you?” Pierre asked as they walked down the hall towards the elevators leaving the couple behind.

“Have I what?” Daniel asked. Lando barely looked up to see Max and Y/N walking further down the hall with a short wave given to all of them.

“Caught them, about to…” Lando trailed off again, he still couldn’t say it.

“Let’s just put it this way, when they want a date night. I’m the first person that they call.” Sometimes Lando forgot how close Max and Daniel were. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my godson but sometimes Max needs to learn to call in advance instead of the day of.”

“So you haven’t caught them then?” Lando couldn’t help but ask. Them wanting date night together was one thing, but that wasn’t what Lando was asking.

“No, I have.” It almost sounded like there was a bit of mischief in Daniel’s voice. “Trust me mate, you were lucky that you walked in when you did because if it was after that, you would have been scarred for life.”

Lando widened his eyes at that.

“Was Max running his mouth?”

“What do you mean?” He asked back to Daniel.

“Like praising her, in Dutch?” He couldn’t help but nod at Daniel’s question.

“A bit.” He choked out.

“Good on ya, that you didn’t stick around.” Daniel slapped the back of Lando’s shoulder. “Come on, once we’re down at the bar, I’ll get you a drink. You need it after all you’ve gone through today.”

Lando tried not to think further about what he just heard. Obviously at some point in time Daniel had walked in on Max and Y/N and had a very different reaction then him.

He followed Daniel and Pierre down to the bar, letting Daniel order him something strong that would hopefully make the last 6 hours or so disappear, at least for a while.

Translation(s):

Zo goed voor mij. - So good for me.

Zo wanhopig voor mij. - So desperate for more.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #mv1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #f1 x reader

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kentosovertime · 2 months

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(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

➳ reformed fuckboy!gojo x afab!reader - 3.8k

➳ a/n: just got done saying how fun it is to write gojo platonically but fuck that he's my little slut~

➳ cw: explicit content, explicit language, multiple sex scenes, choking, unprotected sex, longing, reader leaves gojo in the dust, one night stand or so he thinks, mentions of alcohol, snowed in trope

“Do you want to get out of here?” The white haired sorcerer leans into your space where you’ve been nursing the drink he purchased for you, not wanting to seem too interested.

Gojo Satoru, you hum to yourself in thought. Notorious fuck boy of the jujutsu world. There was a dark, predatory promise in his eyes and you knew that the scratch you came out to itch would be satisfied if you went home with him but… You were up for consideration of promotion from a Grade 1 sorcerer to a special grade. You didn’t want to ruin that or make it seem like you slept your way there, especially given how few obtain the title.

“I don’t know…” You shoot him a sly smile, swirling the liquid around your glass. “Is it my turn in line now?”

“Come on, baby girl. It’s not like that.” His smile doesn’t drop as he gently grabs you by the wrist and lays a teasing kiss on your open palm. “I can’t help myself when I see a beautiful, strong woman who’s so pent up. You need to blow off steam.”

Goosebumps race up your arm where his lips brush against your palm again before nipping at your skin, sending the sensation straight to your core.

“What makes you my best option?” You lean forward, playfully trailing a finger down his black casual t-shirt before tossing your gaze over to Nanami sitting across the local bar. “Your light haired friend has been looking at me all night. Maybe I’ll go home with him instead.”

“Because…” He crowds into where you’re standing, making your face tip back to meet his gaze as he purrs down at you. “You’re not rubbing those lush thighs together with anyone here but me.”

Your breathing stutters out as he leans forward and trails his nose up your neck, his heavy breaths panting against your sensitive skin.

“I bet this is making your little cunt drip.” His touch meets the side of your breast, thumbing you through the fabric of your dress. “You can be greedy, baby. I won’t complain.”

“F-fuck-” A whimper escapes your mouth despite your determination not to react. “You’re so crude.”

“I don’t hear you disagreeing with me.” He only grins wider when your words come out with no bite to them as you choke them out. You wish the rumors included that he was terrible in bed but that was never the case.

“I’m not…” You chew on your cheek, making the worst decision of your life as you knock back your entire drink and meet his gaze directly. “Your place then?”

Gojo’s eyes light up as he nods excitedly, half expecting to have to fight you further on this.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A moan rips from his throat as you break from his lips to shove him to the surface of the bed, already flush with the multiple highs he pulled out of you by the time he shut the apartment door behind you. There was one in the cab ride home from his fingers and another in the elevator from his tongue alone. Your bare legs part as you straddle him, your pants lost somewhere in the journey to his bedroom.

“Sweetheart-” He hisses, his hips bucking as you take a hold of his slacks, unzipping them and shoving your hand into where there was a painfully obvious bulge. “Fuck, slow down. I want to take my time with you.”

Your hand pumps the hard length of him, your thumb rubbing and paying attention to the tip that’s oozing globs of pre-cum as you settle yourself to hover over him, primed to sink down at a moment's notice.

“I thought you brought me here to fuck me.” You smirk down at him, being your turn to gloat, basking in the impact you had on him. You circle your hips slowly, pushing just the tip of his cock into you, moaning softly as you chuckle at his low whine. “You should let me get on with it. Someone wanted me to be greedy.”

“Well yes, b-but- oh my fuck-” His head tilts back with a throaty moan as you suddenly sink down, taking his length in one motion before you’re grinding at a steady pace to build up your high as he grapples to hold onto your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, leaving crescent moons in their wake.

“Shit, Sa-Satoru- Ah!” Your hands find their way to his chest, bracing yourself as you lean forward to bounce your hips to slide his glistening cock into your sensitive walls. A whimper escapes your lips each time he uses his grip to push you back down onto his cock harder, meeting your thrusts in the middle so you can feel the vibrations ricochet through your center, sending lightning up your spine.

“Fuck, baby.” His muscles tense with the need to cum, but fuck he wants to enjoy this first. Your skin ripples with the squelching slaps that echo through the room as he braces his feet under him and fucks up into you hard, forcing his cock to bottom out each time. “You can hear your pussy sucking me deep.. B-bet it wants my cum… fuck.. I bet you want it more.”

“N-not yet.” You stammer breathlessly, your fingers dig helplessly into the pillow next to his head. “Want this to keep going.”

“Oh, really?” His hand flies out to grip you by the chin, to get your attention before he smacks your cheek and moves his free hand to smack your center harshly, pulling a rough scream from you that turns into a desperate sob as he continues the movement in his hips while zeroing in on your clit with terrible precision. “I say it's time to cum, baby girl… and make sure to scream my name when you do it. I want the neighbors to hear.”

“P-Please n-no-” You squirm wildly in his hold, as he grunts in frustration, ready to pin you to the bed to pull more out of you, overstimulating you as punishment. Your legs tremble, squeezing shut to prevent him from thrusting into you so harshly and he growls in need as he swaps your positions, holding you to the mattress by your neck and not missing a beat in his thrusting.

“You think you’re the one in charge here?” He grits his teeth and doesn’t hold back as he brings you right to the edge, his fingers tightening as you get closer to make spot dance around your vision. “Fuckin’ give it to me baby. I want another one from you.”

“S-Satoru-!” Your hands claw at the wrist pinning your throat as a particularly hard thrust slams into you just right, making your vision go white. He watches with a satisfied grin as your eye rolls back and your breath stutters out in ragged whines as you soak his waist.

“Nuh uh-” He grapples with your hips, pulling you back into him as he fucks you through your high, bullying himself past the vice grip of your cunt. “God you’re pussy so perfect for me. So f-fucking tight.. Where do you want it, baby girl? You gonna let me finish inside?”

“Please-” Your voice cracks as you sob out for him needily, locking your legs around his waist so he’s forced to trade his long thrusts for a grinding motion. His pace stutters with a low whine before he slams himself into you one more time, burying himself deep as he shoots ropes of cum into you.

You swear your ears are ringing with how long it's taking you to come down. What you don’t expect from him is how he gently rubs the side of your hip as he pulls out of you or how he removes your legs from around him before he dips down a leaves soft kisses on our inner leg before he disappears into a room attached to the bedroom.

You start to shimmy yourself up, looking for where your clothing got thrown before he reappears with a hot washcloth.

“Lay back down.” He grumbles with a slight pout, taking you by the leg to tip you back onto the mattress. You whimper out in embarrassment as he cleans your center and thighs and he simply chuckles at your distress. “Stop that… I can tell you’re about to pass out. Let me help before you go to sleep.”

You don’t have it in you to argue. You’re certainly not planning on staying here until the morning, but he doesn’t need to know that.

You don’t argue when he picks you up bridal style to settle you in the soft array of his bed’s blankets. You find your eyes drooping almost immediately, drifting closed as you wrap your arms around a pillow that smells comfortingly like him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Three years, four months, twenty-three days, and 13 hours since he woke up with you gone. Not that he was counting.

That morning Gojo had woken up more satisfied than he had been in ages. His hand slid across his smooth sheets to wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest only to come up empty. The purse he had set on the night stand with your clothing neatly folded next to it were gone from their place as well.

He frowns at the memory, expecting that you would have at least said goodbye.

All this time must be penance for all of the women he had burned through and pushed out the door after their hookups. That was in the rare instance that he invited someone to his place, much preferring the ability to slip out someone’s front door in the dead of night like you had. Were the sheets that cold when the women had searched for him in the morning?

Had it been hard for you? Did he make up how good that night was? He tortures himself by thinking about the what-ifs. He imagines that nothing like that has ever been difficult for you. You were so unashamed in taking what you wanted from him. In his deepest thoughts, he fantasizes you’re just as haunted by the memories you made that night and how perfectly your bodies fit together.

And later that day he thanks whatever higher power is out there when he receives a mission assignment for a special grade curse that had cropped up in Siberia and listed under his name was yours.

He reminds himself of this joy as the two of you trudge through the snow of a blizzard after you had successfully landed a killing blow on the curse. They certainly got your promotion to a Special Grade correct.

On the way back down the mountain a snow storm had hit, leaving you stranded until the weather cleared.

“We should have asked the village for clearer directions back.” You snip at him, squinting against the onslaught of white in your vision. “Face it, we're lost.”

“I can teleport us…?” He suggests unhelpfully, happy to sit back and let your brain do its beautiful brain thing.

“Not if you don’t know where we are first.” You sigh in exasperation. “Kill a special grade curse only to die from cold exposure. The higher ups certainly have a sense of humor.”

“What about that cabin?” He points over his shoulder to a mass he spotted in the snow, though he doubts you can see it without the Six Eyes.

He snatches your hand and pulls you along, not waiting for a response. He knows your shivering is starting to slow down which is never a good sign.

“Oh thank fuck-” You groan and hurry inside as he hips the door open, quickly closing it to prevent the snow from entering the small space.

You wrap your arms around yourself, rubbing your arms until they heat up enough to focus on the space around you. It was quaint, but fully stocked. The surface you were currently sitting on was a mattress covered in fur pelts and flannel blankets. It was shoved into the corner to make space for the wood stove that Gojo was currently crouching in front of, already getting the fire started.

“You’re g-g-good at that.” You shiver violently as you shed your soaked outer layer, trading it for one of the large flannel blankets. The second it's wrapped around you for cover you kick off your shoes and your pants, quickly pulling your legs underneath you so none of your skin is exposed to the air.

“I think you give me too little credit in general.” He mumbles loud enough for you to catch it.

You blink at him in shocked silence. Everything had been tense for your trip, the flight here was almost unbearable, let alone trekking through the snowy wilderness together.

“You know…” He starts softly, tracking the sweat that drips down your neck as the hut quickly heats up. “Sometimes I’m convinced I hallucinated it all.” You don’t respond, but when he looks up, the flush on your cheeks is enough to confirm to him you’re thinking about the same thing.

“I don’t think it was fair to leave like that…” He frowns, looking intently at his hands. “You didn’t even ask me what I wanted.”

“I know your reputation… this all seems a bit hypocritical if you ask me. You wanted to hookup and that’s fine. I wasn’t looking for anything-” You start before he cuts you off with a lost look.

“Maybe that’s how it started but… I was content to wake up with to you the next morning and you were gone before I could ask if you wanted to go out to breakfast.”

“I don’t know what to tell you…” You gulp, your heart hammering in your chest. You draw the blanket tighter around you, sweltering in the heat but needing the barrier between you and his blue gaze.

Your cheeks only grow warmer at the memories of that night. How you would have loved to stay if he hadn’t been who he was. Not that he was Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer in hundreds of years, but that he went through women like a child who grew tired of his new toys.

You had never begged a man for anything in your life and you had decided that the night with him would be no exception to your rule. Leaving the bed where he had passed out had been one of the hardest things you had done in your adult life. You’d rather fight a thousand curses than have to do it again, but life wasn’t always fair.

“Tell me you felt something between us. Tell me it wasn’t just me who felt right being near you.” He stands suddenly, walking the short distance to stand in front of you, his eyes pleading.

“I… I c-can’t. You’re not going to change who you are for me-” Your voice cracks, betraying the storm of emotions swirling within your soul.

He moves closer to you, leaning over your frame far enough to force you to fall back against the mattress and planting his hands on either side of your head.

“I would if you gave me the chance.” His eyes are serious and you find that the look is strange gracing his face.

“You’ve said that to a dozen women, haven’t you?” You feel yourself starting to shake, wanting his words to be true but you’re not going to let him hurt you. “Including the ones after me.”

“Never.” His voice is steady, as serious as his gaze as his brow furrow. “There hasn’t been anyone else since, baby. Please.”

“It's been over three years. You really expect me to believe that?” Your chest rises and falls faster as your breath picks up, shifting the blanket to fall open, exposing your chest to the air.

“No, I don’t expect that. But I could convince you it’s actually true.” He leans in further, ghosting his nose up your jaw as he breathes in your scent with a low groan. “You could let me show you what you’ve been missing out on all this time waiting… Please.”

A breath hitches in your throat as he nips at your earlobe, his heavy breath hitting your skin, pulling goosebumps down your spine. Your words fail you, but your body doesn’t, acting on autopilot to take what it wants.

Your hands let go of the blanket entirely, letting the flannel open entirely to expose where you had stripped down to just your bra and panties while you grip the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours.

Gojo moans low in your mouth, climbing fully on the bed to crawl over your prone form. He braces himself with one hand and sinks the other into your hair, tugging your head back to get a better angle to deepen and slow the kiss.

His pace is worlds different from your first night together. The grip his hands have on you is firmer, more purposeful. Despite the time you had spent apart, he wasn’t rushing this like one the quick fucks you thought he favored. When his tongue pushes past your lips, eliciting a whimper from your throat, he doesn’t greedily lap at you. He swirls his tongue with careful precision, savoring the taste of you.

“Satoru-” You whine as he leaves open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck. How could you properly convey to him how you were burning alive with the need for him to give you just a little bit more?

“So greedy.” He chuckles into your neck, calling back to when he told you to be greedy that first night. “But I wanna take my time with you after waiting so long.”

Any response dies on your lips when he makes his way down to your bra, tugging it to the side enough for your breasts to pop out, immediately latching onto one while his hand kneads the one he’s neglecting.

“N-Now you’re just teasing me, Satoru.” You huff out a moan, pressing your legs together as you feel him smirk against your skin; the little shit. “At least take these off…”

He helps you strip him bare, tossing the shirt into a heap across the hut, quickly followed by his pants and boxers after he kicks off his boots. You take the opportunity to shed your bra and panties, leaving you as bare as he is. Needy hands search him out as soon as he joins you back on the mattress with a chuckle.

“Ya know… a little please and thank you will get you a long way, baby girl.” Shivers wrack your body as he trails his tongue down your stomach to the apex of your thighs, using his fingers to spread your folds, exposing you to his gaze.

Your body squirms at the light touch, screaming for more friction.

“Please fuck me.” You bite out, knowing he’s not going to listen to your request.

“Nice try.” A playful laugh rips through him before he leans in and licks a large stripe up your center before expertly flicking his tongue against your clit, pulling a string of curse from you as your body jolts and your hands fly out to grab him by the hair at his scalp. “That’s it, grind this sopping little cunt against my face baby.” He growls before diving back in, sucking down on you hard the second he shoves three fingers into you without warning.

“Oh my fucking-! S-Satoru- ah! Fucking shit, pl-please-” Fingers bully into you, past your fluttering walls to find the spongey spot inside where they hammer into you until your eyes cross and your ears start ringing. “Satoru- pl-please can I- can I cum please?” Maybe begging will get you what you want at this point. Maybe it will break him down enough so he’ll shove your cock inside of you. “Good fucking girl. Cum for me baby… make a mess out of this face.” He purrs deep in his throat. The vibrations work through you until your muscles shake with the effort of tensing before they snap inwards, making your back arch off the worn mattress, a hoarse scream ripping its way through your throat before the aftershocks start working through your body.

You’re so deep in a subspace that you don’t feel him unlatching himself after he licks your cum clean and he’s shoving his cock into you without preamble.

“Mmmph-! Fuck!” A cry leaves your mouth as you claw at his lower stomach, leaving angry red welts in your wake as you try desperately to get him to slow down so you can breathe, but you already feel another high building.

“Ahhh… Not too much for my baby now is it?” He goads you on, grabbing at your thighs to push your legs closer to your chest. “You take me like you were born for it. Bet you’re still desperate for my cum aren’t you?”

“Fuck, please.” You pant out, trying to catch your breath as his brutal thrusts knock the air out of you each time. “M-missed your cum, ‘Toru. W-want it all.”

“Then you better give me one more baby…” The thrusts don’t falter in pace as his hand sneaks between the two of you. His hand presses into your lower tummy and his thumb reaches to rub quick circles into your bundle of nerves until you're thrown over the edge for the last time.

White, blinding light floods your vision as Gojo moans low and lets your cunt squeeze him, pulling him deeper as he presses as close so he can to explode inside of you.

When you come to, you’re gathered in his arms, his hands grazing carefully across your face as he wipes the sweat that formed there, tucking your hair behind your ear with a soft smile gracing his features.

“You’re even more beautiful than that first night.” He hums to himself. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you always have had a way of crashing into my life and breaking down my assumptions.”

“I think it's my assumption you’re destroying…” You lean into his touch, soaking up the attention you never thought you’d receive.

You both lay there, enjoying the quiet moment you’ve carved for yourself out of this mission by happenstance. You let the storm rage on around you, letting yourselves forget what lies outside these mountains.

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @yelzoldyck @silversslut @aazaard @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @vantastic210 @rafzaha @tirzamisu @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @firdaoz @saoney @meromelo @pelicanpizza @sukunassoulmate @damncakie @katgalle @honeyyjems [[ if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

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ronearoundblindly · 4 months

Text

Midnight Kiss

Steve Rogers x reader

Just a little ditty in honor of the upcoming holiday. Warnings for suggestive language and bad puns. It's just cute, awkward, and chivalrous...until it isn't. If you couldn't deduce it from the title: they kiss lol. WC 1.5k+

He's happy to see the team having fun, but this isn't exactly Steve's 'scene.' Granted, his 'scene' flew the coop long ago, when his generation aged out of large, raucous celebrations, or rather, Steve never had any true social scene because he never really lived .

He's still trying, he swears; it's just...

really. damn. loud.

The lights are somehow too dim and too bright all at once. Everyone is happy and blitzed and dressed to the nines and leaning on the closest stable object. Any minute now, he'll bow out and call it a--

There's an ear-piercing cackle from a woman in a '2024' gold-streamered headband not two yards to his right, and she tips backwards, shoving an innocent passerby straight into his solid side.

"Sorry," you squeak, rolling your eyes because the word wasn't loud enough to shame the drunk woman beside you, but you're facing him, too, unable to see she's about to make it worse.

The woman snorts and laughs harder, toppling over because her party of friends have the reaction time of sloths, their hands full of dainty champagne flutes and mini-snacks.

Steve instinctively pulls you out of the way, his broad, strong arm wrapping your waist and pinning you to him.

"Oof," you grunt in alarm, the woman's drink spilling over your shoulder.

Hors d'oeuvres, Steve thinks sullenly, that's what people call them these days.

The woman doesn't apologize, and neither do her friends.

He counts a full five seconds before anyone in the small group even raises a hand to help the woman still giggling on the floor. Mostly, Steve is now concerned with the glass shards near your feet.

He's all for having fun, he's all for letting off a little steam, but he is not a fan of sloppiness. That's not a generational trait; that's simple courtesy.

"Ok, 'nough of this," he mutters, an itchy irritation scurrying up his body while he tries not to take over care of the woman. Instead, he checks your legs with a glance, sees the open toes of your strappy sandals, and hoists you into his arms.

He walks away from the bar, sound of crunching fading with each step, and finds a tiny bench--the only spot not occupied--where he can set you down.

Steve can't hear your shock or protest because his blood races past his ears. That was the last straw. He's annoyed now.

"Stay there," he commands, putting up a finger that gets shockingly close to touching your lips since you leaned in to speak. "I'm getting some napkins."

The bartender is oblivious, and why should he not be? The man is one of two serving over a hundred guests, give or take, for hours and hours. Steve doesn't bother getting his attention. He stretches a long arm over the bar top and grabs a stack of cocktail napkins.

It might as well be toilet paper.

He dabs and dabs at the sleeve of your dress, but the napkins dissolve and turn to damp pills. In his day, those results would make excellent spitballs to pass the time in class. They aren't so trendy on your black velvet.

"I thought this would work." He doesn't know what else to do but keep dabbing, so he anxiously continues, not noticing the precarious proximity to your chest until you put a hand on his.

You have kind eyes, he thinks, even though he can't fully make out their color in the mood lighting.

"Please, don't--" finally one of the woman's group yells over a quick sorry "--don't bother with that," you finish. "It's just a dress. You can go back to your people, Captain."

He scrunches his brow. He sometimes wants to introduce himself; he wouldn't always use his rank, but he rarely gets that luxury. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Was heading out anyway. I'll just sit a sec and then leave."

Sounds like the highlight of my night--leaving.

Instead, Steve stands to his full height and scans the busy room for any of his team. He shrugs to himself since, who's he kidding, no one will miss him if he disappears early. He's put in the appearance. He's made enough small drunk talk. Yikes, does he wish alcohol still affected him...

"I'll walk you out," he offers, careful to modulating his volume when one song abruptly ends and another starts lower.

At first, you don't take his hand, and your first two steps seem sturdy.

Then your weight crumples after a deep hiss.

Steve has you back up and carried to the bathroom in a flash. It's lit so he can actually see and muffled so he can actually hear, thank goodness.

Glass did sneak into your shoe, and it easily poked through the ball of your foot. He's so quick to find it that not one whole drop of blood has even eased out of the wound by the time he's pulling the shard out. His bare hands pinch the sizable chunk.

He's careful, slow, and gentle. He's also a touch proud that you make very little fuss, only squirming in discomfort while he works.

"All better," he says, dropping the glass into the trash bin. "We'll just wash it and...you alright?"

You're already pushing yourself off the counter top.

"You shouldn't put weight on it yet." Steve gingerly lifts your leg at the knee to keep the foot from touching the bare tile floor.

"Yeah, but--" you make a face "--you set me down in water."

Steve's eyes bug out. "I--oh gosh--so sorry, I--let me--" there are no paper towels, only an air dryer "--shit."

Defeated by modernity again, he sighs. "I just...I can get more napkins and maybe a first aid kit from--"

The crowd outside is starting to yell. They're counting, backwards, and there's no way anyone will understand what he's asking for in that chaos.

"Ten!"

Steve meets your eyes.

"Nine!"

He can see their full color now and that your dress isn't black. It's a very, very dark maroon velvet. Wetness is easily visible though, since your sleeve seems fully black at the shoulder.

"Eight!"

He points to the door. "Somebody I can get for you?"

You shake your head.

Not that he was fishing for your relationships status, but he's encouraged nonetheless.

"Seven!"

"Only me," you shrug, "braving the party for a thrill..."

"Same."

"Six!"

"How was the year?" he cracks with a smile.

You tilt your head. He's distracted by the cute gesture.

"Five!"

He stares.

"Four!"

"Not great," you admit.

Steve thinks while he stares.

"Three!"

Actually, no, that's a lie. He doesn't think; he just acts.

"Tw--"

He swoops in, big palms cradling each side of your face, soft lips pressed to yours for just an instant, but only because he wants more.

Unless tortured, Steve Rogers will never admit that he didn't plan for one instant where his tongue was not involved. He absolutely wants to taste you. He absolutely wants to own you, just for these few seconds. He absolutely wants to hear you moan in encouragement, the sound crystal clear in isolation from the party.

The roar of the crowd is soft static compared to that racing blood of his.

He pushes himself closer, his bent arms getting in his way, so Steve props up with a palm on the--oh wow, that is wet--counter. His thumb touches the soggy velvet covering your hip and thigh.

He'll buy you a whole new dress if only you lace your fingers in his hair, if only you take his bottom lip between your teeth, if only you whine just like that again.

By 'again,' he means in a few seconds, and maybe tomorrow, and, for good measure, whenever after that.

A loud thud on the door knocks him out of his lip-lock trance. It's not a single restroom, so he suspects another overly inebriated patron since no one comes through the door.

But now some sense is knocked into him, too.

He chews on his swollen lips for a moment, nervous to look up. He hopes you don't regret it, and he hopes you know that he does not, can not, and will never regret that kiss.

Your sated sigh breaks the tension after a beat. "Starting this year off right," you mutter, "at least for me..."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, glancing at the door before finally taking in your lounging form, "the gang is gonna love how I ended up in a ladies' bathroom at the stroke of midnight, necking a stranger."

You snort.

"Don't leave out the part where I was wet for you, head to toe, huh?"

Too bad the florescent lights are bright enough to show his raging red blush, but he clears his throat with a deep growl.

"They'll never believe me..."

Steve sweeps you up into his arms again.

"...unless I take you as proof...and to get a bandage, of course."

You snatch up your shoe and purse, but he won't let this Cinderella run off. You'll be right here against him all night.

"Well, go ahead and splash my other shoulder," you tease. "I can't be lop-sided."

Steve grins, already adding more and more things to list of what he'll do for you, to you, and with you. The list can include parties, too, if this is how wonderfully sweet and silly they can all be.

Happy New Year, indeed...

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp (My taglists are all jacked up again, so if you are missing from the list and/or want to be tagged, please let me know!)

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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selineram3421 · 10 months

Text

Fucking shit fuck- *slams face onto a table* FUCK! I did a thing. (This is the thing.)

Alastor X Reader Oneshot

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ lingerie(no detail, imagine what you'd like), kisses, sugar with a little spice, -///- biting/licking, Alastor is a tease, cussing, fluff, soft Alastor ⚠

In The Closet

You had bought the set for yourself.

Just something for you to feel good in and slip into if you wanted.

Today felt like you could wear it just for fun.

It was your day off, so you spent it mostly in Alastor's personal library. But it got a little boring and you decided that you wanted to be ✨extra✨ to make it fun.

So you went upstairs, over to your bedroom closet and pulled out a box, setting it on the bed. You turned back to the closet and flicked through the hangers until you found your favorite robe.

After putting everything on, you also took some comfortable but stylish shoes and wore them.

"This calls for a red drink.", you said to yourself before tying the robe closed and walking out of the room.

After getting your drink and pouring it into a wine glass, you went back to the library and searched for a new book.

This was a great idea. You thought, taking a sip of your drink.

It took a little longer than you thought but you eventually found a book that caught your interest and went to sit on the lounging couch, setting the glass on a nearby table before laying back and opening the book.

Hours had passed, the sky darkening and you didn't notice that your love had returned until he was in the room.

"Ahem."

You jumped in surprise before looking up and seeing your man in red.

"Alastor! When did you get back? I didn't hear you come in.", you said sitting up and setting the book down.

"Not too long ago my dear.", he replied and sat down next to you. "I was looking for you."

"Well, you found me.", you smiled. "How was your day?"

"Boring.", the deer demon sighed and pulled you into a hug. "All I did was paperwork and after I left the hotel some idiotic demon thought they could challenge me."

Leaning your head against his chest, you hummed and wrapped your arms around him. "I bet it was some new arrival.", you said closing your eyes.

"It most likely was, though I don't know how they didn't notice all the warning posters of me. Those are plastered everywhere.", he mumbled the last bit and placed a kiss on the top of your head. "What about you darling? How was your day off?"

"Hmm~", you sank deeper into his hold. "Mostly here in the library, but then it was a little boring. I got over it and came back to read."

He raised a brow at your lack of detail. "Got over it? Do tell."

You blinked your eyes open and blushed. "Its nothing important, I just found an easy way to get rid of it.", you pulled yourself a little ways back and reached for your book.

"No, no.", he took your outstretched hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. "S’il te plaît dis moi mon amour~" (Please tell me my love~)

"Hmph-no", you pouted and went for the book again.

"You leave me no choice.", he says.

You were so close to getting the book and then you were lying on your back with the Radio Demon on top of you, kissing your neck.

"Now will you tell me?", he asks in between kisses, moving one hand to your waist while the other went up to your hand and interlocked your fingers.

"No-", you were cut off by a gasp, heart racing as you felt his teeth nip lightly at your neck. "No.", you said stubbornly, and placed your free hand on his chest.

"Why not?", he said, kissing his way to your collarbone. "Maybe it'll help me whenever I'm bored."

"Maybe it won't.", you mumbled and let out another gasp when he bit down a little harder on your collarbone.

"Mais sait-on jamais~", he said with heavy static in his voice. (But you never know/but who knows)

You shivered as he licked up your neck, face steaming.

He pulled back and looked down at you with a smug grin. "Now will you tell me?"

You blinked and gave him a nervous smile. "N-no?"

"Hm..we'll see.", he says with narrowed eyes and moves his hand down your leg but stops when feeling a clip. "What's this?", he asks and sits up.

You quickly hold the bottom of your robe closed with your free hand. "I-I'll tell you if you let me up!"

"Hmm..", he thought for a moment and held his hand out to shake. "I'll let you up and you'll tell me, deal?"

Geez.. You thought, face burning. "Deal.", you agreed and shook his hand.

He let you sit up and scooted back just a bit to give you some space.

"I can't believe you-", you huffed and started untying the knot. "Biting me and shit."

"You love it.", he quipped, holding his hands up in surrender when you sent a glare up at him. "I'm not wrong love."

You stood up after untying it, still holding the robe closed. "Promise not to laugh?", you glanced over at him.

"I promise, there is no need for you to worry.", he reassured gently taking one of your hands and kissing the palm of it. "Show me?"

You sighed and then nodded, turning to face him completely.

"I-I bought myself lingerie a bit ago. Before we got into a relationship a-and I got bored so I wanted to be dramatic.", you stuttered out, not looking him in the eye as you pulled the robe open.

"Chéri/e." (Darling)

You were pulled down onto his lap and the deer demon kissed you softly.

Insecurities drifting away as you reciprocated, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax, moving your hands up to hold his face.

"Lovely.", he sighed. "Absolutely breathtaking.", he said and began kissing along your jaw.

"Alastor.", you said out of breath, pushing him back on the chest lightly. "Let's stop. I-I'm overheating."

He sits back but keeps a hold on you, letting you cool down a bit. "You are devine my dearest.", he smiled with love in his eyes.

"Geez, you've got me steaming like a biscuit.", you puffed out your cheeks, face still flushed.

"My poor sweet, soft, dangerous, small demon.", he said and kissed the tip of your nose. "So easily flustered and overheated."

"Hmph.", you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your chin on his shoulder. "I wanna see you try and not be flustered when wearing a corset and stockings. With the clips-"

"Oh?"

You froze, feeling yourself heat up again.

"You want me in a corset?", he asks.

Hiding your face against his neck, you mumble curses and hold onto him tighter.

Damn it all-

Alastor chuckles and rubs your back, pecking your shoulder. "I could, so we can both be dramatic."

😳 Um.. *scrambles away* This is as far as they will go!

French translation might be wrong. Let me know if it is so I can fix it.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @stolas-thebirb @c4rved-pumpk1n @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @biromanticboba @naelys-the-aster @scary-noodlesblog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

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lxndonorris · 1 year

Text

back in the saddle - Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x Y/N Theme: Smut (you've been warned) Charles being very into driving the new car, so he needs you to blow of some steam x thank you @tetralea for the idea, don't mind me tagging you, I hope, otherwise, please feel free to ignore! word count: 2150+

The new season hasn't begun yet, but still, it's a very special day for your boyfriend Charles. This whole week has been very exciting, since it is car reveal week, and for the first time this year, Charles will be driving the new Ferrari he's going to be using for the next year. Every year, he invites you to join him, and luckily, you were able to join him this year. Now, you're standing in his garage, watching him fly around the track. Wearing a headset, you can hear his voice over the radio, as he is so happy to be back in the saddle. Everything seems to be perfect, which makes you even happier.

You love seeing him like that, unbothered, passionate, and in his element. For over a month now, you could accompany him when he had meetings with the crew and management, and with every one of those, it got even more exciting. You watch proudly as he enters the garage with the new, beautiful car. Charles easily parks it, and immediately, jumps out of it, letting out a scream of joy. His mechanics help him, just to be safe, and you smile widely. He hugs everyone around him, opens his visor, and talks to them. You love hearing him speak Italian, especially when his voice is all high-pitched and speedy when he's pumped.

Charles turns towards you, a gigantic smile spread all over his face, even though he's wearing a helmet, you can tell by his bright, shining eyes. You can tell how excited he is right now. All of his body is bulging, his biceps, thighs, his chest, and, of course, his dick. Even though he's wearing fireproofs and a racing suit, it's clearly visible to you. In one swift motion, he takes the helmet off, walks towards you, and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him.

He's still wearing the red balaclava, but you lean in and place a kiss right on his nose. "Hey." He giggles, and while holding you close, puts the helmet down, and takes his balaclava off. Still smiling heavily, you hug him tightly, stroking his back. Charles' hair is a complete mess, sweaty, and sticky, but he looks so good. He instantly leans into you, kissing you passionately. You embrace his lips on yours, and for just a moment, you feel like no one's around you. Then, one of Charles' team pats him on the back, snapping the two of you out of your dream. "Take a break, Charles, it's Carlos' turn now." The guy says, and Charles nods.

He turns back to you, a mischievous grin forming on his lips. Tilting your head slightly, you watch him carefully as he removes your headset, to whisper into your ear. "I need to..show you something." He breathes deeply against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "What?" You say, and as soon as you open your mouth, you feel his crotch grinding against your body, slowly, but firmly, so the only one noticing is you. "Please." He growls right into your ear, making your heart skip a beat. Your hands claw into the back of his racing suit before you let them run further down, stroking the small of his back, and across his butt, filling that suit properly.

"Will it take long?" You smirk, returning the favor by running a hand between the two of you, cupping his bulge. "Oh, yeah." He nods, his hands now stroking your back. "After you." Licking your lips, you let him lead you through the Ferarri testing center. The drivers get their own room, to have some privacy while they test the new car, the perfect place for some alone time. He's basically pulling you through the hallways, eager to have some fun with you. "Not so fast, Charles." You giggle, causing him to turn his head, gnashing his teeth slightly. While walking towards his room, he manages to unzip his racing suit, before opening the door, leading you inside his room. He immediately locks the door behind you.

As soon as you're inside, he turns towards you, breathing heavily, letting both of his hands run across his own chest firmly. "Fuck. That made me hard." He groans, closing his eyes for a second when touching himself gently. You take a step closer, placing a hand on his side, and the other right on his pecs. "I could tell, hearing you over the radio." You smirk, causing him to look at you, at first, a little bewildered, but then, the corner of his lips twitches, and a grin starts to form. "How?" He asks, his eyes wandering all over your face until they meet yours again.

"You're not as subtle as you think." Still smirking, you lean even closer, your voice turning into a whisper, a mere breath. "Every time, when you get hard." You say, your fingers following the zipper of his suit, to his crotch. "Your voice gets all pitched, and you're acting a little sly." Charles takes a deep breath, while you circle his bulge with one finger, carefully, not to touch him too early. "All those cheeky remarks." You hiss, and he closes his eyes. "Fuck." He mutters to himself, his hands lingering on his chest, as his body gets stiffer. Slowly, you walk right in front of him, your lips barely brushing over his. "I like that."

Charles' eyes fly open, staring right into yours. You got him, and he knows it. He's already hard by that testing, driving a car at high speed tends to do that to him, and now, you're teasing him even more. "I need you." He says, basically begging you, and he starts to grind his waist against the palm of your hand. "Then take me." You breathe against his lips, and he opens his mouth, taking all of it in. Then, he kisses you, slowly at first, but increasing the pace steadily. You embrace him once more, your lips on his, and he starts to use his tongue, exploring every corner of your mouth. The two of you moving rhythmically, he starts to stroke your back, while you tend to his firm chest.

Together, you manage to get him out of his suit, the sleeves hanging down at his waist. Charles starts to tug at your jacket, and with a little help from you, you take it off. It drops to the floor, as you start moving through the room. He leads you toward the empty wall right next to the door. You flinch as your back hits the concrete, but you don't mind it much. "Sorry." He exhales, separating his mouth from yours, to place hot kisses all over your neck. "Charles." You breathe, resting your head against the wall, while you grab the back of his head, running a hand through his sweaty, messy hair.

He tries to slip his hands underneath your shirt, and once he succeeds, you can feel his fingers dancing all over your skin. "That's good." You moan quietly, as he tends to your boobs, feeling them, stroking them, lovingly as always. "Y/N:" He growls against your skin, and bends his waist against yours, with his dick tenting inside his pants. You get the idea, and in one swift motion, you turn him around, so he's standing with the back to the wall. "Yeah, like that." He hisses, his angry face turning you on even more. You lean into him, but you don't kiss him, instead, you press a finger on his lips. "Shh." You mouth, and place your hands on his chest.

Charles grins proudly and watches you go down his body. At first, you stroke his chest, his nipples pressing through the tight, red fireproofs. Now, he rests his head against the wall, letting out multiple, long, deep moans. Swiftly, your fingers slip inside his shirt, teasing him some more by stroking him, running fingers through the visible outlines of his abs, and his navel, before following his treasure trail to his crotch. The massive bulge catches your eyes, hidden underneath the thick fabric.

"Yes, Y/N, please." He begs, grabs himself firmly, and groans. Biting your lower lip quickly, you tug at his racing suit, and because it's not fast enough for Charles, he lends you a hand. The suit gets stuck at his thick thighs, however, but it doesn't matter. His fireproofs, on the other hand, are pretty thin, not hiding his erection at all, instead, it's flattering him. On your knees now, you look up and catch him staring at you. He's already anticipating what's happening next. Charles smiles weakly, but the pressure is building up in him, and you notice his body getting even tenser.

Teasingly, you slip inside his pants, your fingers at first, playing with the waistband, even letting it smack back against his bare skin. "Fuuck." He moans, then chuckles. Enjoying seeing him like that, you do that again, edging him on and on. He licks his lips, tries to steady himself against the wall, and all of him wants you to suck him off. Then, without warning, you pull those damn tight pants down, exposing his underwear. It's already a little wet, by all of that teasing, but you're not done yet. Firmly, you grab him, making him flinch. "Like that?" You tease him, stroking him a few times. Charles nods quickly. "Yes, yes. Like that."

After a few more seconds, you remove his underwear and take a look at his cock. Licking your lips one last time, you look at him again and nod. Without further ado, you take him into your mouth. Immediately, the feeling of him inside of you sends massive shivers down your spine. "Oh god. Y/N." He moans, placing a hand at the back of your head, securely holding you in place. The two of you move in unison, just like all the times before. Gently, tenderly, you move your mouth as he reacts with his whole body. You take another look up, and he looks down, your eyes meet, and the two of you feel even more connected.

You're getting more and more intoxicated by it all, his taste on your tongue, his familiar scent in your nose, and the feeling of his thighs against the palm of your hands. Just then, a knock on the door snaps you out of the moment again. Charles' body, stops moving, but he keeps you from pulling away. "Yeah?" Charles exhales deeply, his voice shaking heavily. "Charles, we need you in about 5 minutes for debrief." A voice rings through the door, and Charles looks down, pleadingly, for you not to make sudden noises. "I will be there, just gonna change." He says, trying to regain his composure, as you start to move slightly, teasing him some more. Charles eyes you nervously, holding back another moan.

"I will wait he.." The voice says, but Charles interrupts him. "Noo. Noo need. I'm coming soon." He bites his lip, as you move again and again. "Okay, Charles. In 5 minutes, room B23." The voice says and you hear him move away. "Ohhkayy." He says and leans his head back in exhaustion. "Fuck." Charles groans quietly. "So mean." He smirks and looks down again. The two of you get back into it, and it doesn't take long for him to reach his limit. "Just…a second." He holds back until he can't. With a deep, guttural moan, he releases himself.

You feel him cumming, his taste gets stronger, and you take it. For a second, you hold still, both of you, in fact, stand there, before he exhales loudly. "Fuck. I needed that." He chuckles breathlessly, and you take him out of your mouth. Still feeling him lingering in your mouth, you lick your lips, savoring his taste. Charles embraces your head with his hands, helping you get up from the floor.

Appreciatively, he leans into you, kissing you softly, once, then twice, as you fondle his dick a little more. "Thank you." He breathes deeply again, locking his eyes with yours. "My pleasure." You smirk. "But, don't you have a meeting?" Shocked, he realizes what just happened. "Oh fuck, I gonna be late." He says, rushing through the room toward his cupboard while you sit down on the red sofa.

Pulling out fresh underwear, a pair of blue skinny jeans, and a shirt from the new merch collection, he gets dressed in no time. You watch him through all of that, taking another, long look at his well-formed body. At last, he puts a hat on and walks over toward you. "See you in a bit." He says, bending down, and kissing you lovingly again. You caress his cheek, and run a hand through his light beard and across his soft lips. "Hopefully not that long." You say, kissing him one last time before he leaves the room.

#Charles leclerc #Charles leclerc blurb #Charles leclerc smut #Charles leclerc imagine #Charles leclerc fanfic #Charles leclerc fanfiction #Charles leclerc x you #Charles leclerc writing #Charles leclerc one shot #My writing: Charles leclerc

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heliads · 7 months

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Hey! I love your writing sm

could you pls do an f1 soulmate au with charles x carlos?

maybe whatever a person writes on themselves shows up on their soulmate so they write each other cute 'good luck' notes or jokes before races and maybe they realize they're soulmates when one of them gets a podium and the other person sees their drawings :)

i understand that you wanted this to be cute. however have you considered that they could be insane instead. have you considered that there could be mind games, bestie. think about the mental warfare (i am)

masterlist

Carlos Sainz believes that his secrets come out the fastest when he’s drinking. Doesn’t even have to be alcohol, his favorite ruiner of silence– he’s let out contract details and personal opinions just as freely with isotonic water after a race as with a shot someone hands him two hours into a post-race celebration. It’s easy to let your guard down when you think you’re with a friend, when the stakes don’t seem high, when he knows better but doesn’t want to admit it.

That’s why he feels a rippling wave of panic when he sees Charles walking across the Ferrari hospitality, two cups of coffee in his hands. Charles sits down at an empty table for two, places one cup in front of himself and one at the empty chair, and looks pointedly at Carlos. Carlos thinks to himself, this can’t be good, and mentally reminds himself to book an appointment with PR sooner rather than later.

He takes the seat. Some things, you can’t fight. Charles still smiles anyway, pleased, and says, “I got you coffee.”

Carlos had noticed this, surprisingly. It was difficult to ignore. “You’re being nice,” he remarks, blowing into the hole on the lid to cool down the liquid inside.

“I am nice,” Charles protests. His accent comes out more when he’s unhappy, it makes the syllables bunch up together like pleats of fabric.

Carlos arches a brow, and takes a sip of his coffee instead of answering. Scuderia Ferrari loves to claim that they adore the art of coffee just as much as their mother country, but every time Carlos gets coffee from hospitality it’s either flavorless or burnt, depending on who serves it. Charles’ attempt isn’t terrible, but he doubts Charles did anything more to prepare it than just put in an order. It’s a nice gesture, though. Just like Charles said.

When he looks up and the steam properly clears from his vision, Charles is still pouting at him. Carlos shakes his head, smiling to himself. He makes it so easy sometimes, to mess with his head. It’s kind of fun. Poker, but with a far prettier deck of cards.

“Alright, fine,” he relents, grinning so Charles knows he’s in on the joke, “I’m just teasing. No need to get mad, cabrón.”

“I’m not mad,” Charles says, a hint of a smile on his face although he stubbornly tries to shake it, “just interested in defending my honor.”

“Your honor?” Carlos asks, laughing in earnest. “So lord-esque, that is what I have been telling you. Of course Lord Perceval would defend his honor.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “You can deal with my honor, mate. I got you coffee.”

“And I am grateful for it every time you bring it up,” Carlos says, and takes a sip to prove it.

Charles does the same, but his eyes remain on Carlos the whole time. “So? Is it true what they’re saying?”

Carlos wants more than coffee for a conversation that starts out like this. “Who’s saying what?”

Charles gestures vaguely towards his phone. “Everybody. They say you’re going to leave Ferrari when your contract expires.”

Ah. That. “People love rumors,” he says absentmindedly, “I never thought you’d pay attention to them.”

“I don’t usually, but I was interested in this one,” Charles admits. “You’d tell me if you were leaving, right?”

“I’m not leaving,” Carlos says.

Charles sets down his cup. “But you’d tell me, right?”

“I would,” Carlos says. Pauses. Starts again. “What’s gotten into you, man? I never took you for someone to fall for theories like this.”

Charles shakes his head a little too quickly. “I’m not. They just seemed to believe it.”

Carlos shrugs. “They believe a lot. My contract doesn’t expire until next year. They won’t worry about me for a while.”

“Should I?” Charles asks. “Worry about you, I mean.”

Carlos looks at him, really looks at him. The tense grip of his teammate’s hands around his coffee, even despite the heat still emanating through the cup. The furtive glances he keeps sneaking towards Carlos, then abruptly looking at the cup again when he gets caught.

“I’m not going,” Carlos says gently. More gently than he’d answer any interviewer, anyway.

Charles nods quickly, his head bobbing like a doll on a string. “Of course. Besides, I have too much interest for you to leave yet. Not until we figure out your, ah–” A pause. Delicate, but not at all from a polite inclination, no matter how it might seem to any outsider.

Carlos groans, exasperated. “My soulmate? My God, Charles, you have to give this up at some point.”

If it were not enough to have an overly inquisitive teammate, one that’s rather good at using his eyes and smile to get what he wanted, Carlos has been cursed with a racing partner that’s unnaturally interested in his missing other half. Carlos himself wants to figure out who his soulmate is, obviously, but at this point he thinks Charles is even more invested.

They all have soulmates. Supposedly. There’s probably at least a couple people out there who skipped that universal drawing of lots, but Carlos knows for certain that he is not one of them because his soulmate contacts him almost every day. Some people go weeks or even months without finding so much as a scribble appearing out of thin air on their skin, but Carlos blinks and there’s a new sentence on his forearm, bruising his knuckles, curling around his ankle. Whoever his soulmate is, they don’t care much for being ignored.

Neither does his teammate. Charles huffs out an exasperated breath. “If you will not be curious, I will be curious for you. You’re always so cagey about it, anyway. I know they write to you. Don’t you want to know?”

“Of course I want to know who they are,” Carlos scoffs. “What I don’t get is why you want to know. Why don’t you focus on your own other half for a change?”

Charles just leans back in his chair, grinning coolly. Ah, yes. Carlos has suspected for some time that Charles already has an idea as to who his soulmate is, but for some reason Carlos has never seen her around the paddock. It could be that Charles is just keeping their relationship private, but he doubts it. Charles likes his trophies visible and his games extensive. More likely than not, Charles has his soulmate engaged in some kind of cat-and-mouse game so they figure it out without too much help on his end. It’s hellishly manipulative, but he’s charming enough that they all let it slide.

Even Carlos, although he at least tries to put up a fight. Sometimes, he thinks Charles is amusingly aware of that, and doubles down on his efforts to get Carlos to cave until both of them are locked in some sort of affectionate stalemate.

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” Charles hums, pleased that he’s got the other hand. “I mean,” he says, leaning forward abruptly to seize Carlos’ hand in his own, “Don’t you want to know about yours? Aren’t you curious?”

Whoever sat at their table before them left a Sharpie behind by accident; Charles picks it up now, uncapping it with the same hand without letting go of Carlos. “You could just ask them right now, who they are,” Charles muses. The tip of the Sharpie hovers millimeters above the curve of Carlos’ palm, waiting.

Carlos stares at the black ink. It’s easier to focus on the skin when he mumbles, “They wouldn’t answer.”

You’re not supposed to. Unspoken rules. He’s never liked that sort of thing, and neither has Charles, who knows this and smiles unkindly anyway. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Carlos asks, mostly to himself. Charles doesn’t appear to hear him. The Sharpie dips lower until it touches Carlos’ skin. Immediately, the black ink flowers into his palm. Carlos waits for Charles to keep writing, to scrawl a question like who are you or can I fly you to a Grand Prix paddock, asap but instead Charles flinches, slams the palm of his own hand down towards the table, and covers up the pen again.

“Maybe you should do it yourself,” Charles mutters by way of explanation.

“Maybe,” Carlos says. He’s not sure if he’s agreeing or not. It would be easier, he thinks, to have Charles take the wheel again. It would also hurt more. Carlos caps the pen when it becomes obvious that Charles will not. “Drink your coffee,” he says. “It’ll get cold.”

Charles does as told, which is sort of surprising. Usually, he likes pushing the envelope until someone tells him to quit it. It appears to Carlos, though, that they have reached an unspoken limit, a line drawn out in black Sharpie on tanned skin that will not be crossed again.

A few minutes pass. They’re both quiet. Charles whispers into the condensation of his cup, “You’re not leaving, though, right?”

Carlos smiles. “I’m not.” Contracts change, obviously, but he’ll try to fight it. They all try.

They leave not long afterwards, race week means that they don’t have a lot of time to sit around. There’s always something to be filmed for media duties, an interview to conduct, checks to run through with engineers. Still, Carlos is somehow calmer than he was before, even despite the additional caffeine.

Charles, by contrast, seems jumpier than usual as they head towards the exit.

“Did you enjoy your coffee?” Carlos asks pointedly.

Charles glances quickly over both shoulders, then groans when he’s sure that no one can overhear him. “No, God. It’s terrible.”

Carlos chuckles. “But you went to so much trouble to get it. Surely you can pretend it’s more than just terrible. You drank, like, all of it.”

Charles gives him an appraising look. “It’s better with someone else.”

It occurs to Carlos, as he walks back to his driver’s room, that they may not just have been talking about coffee after all. He’s stopped by one of his PR advisors on the way back– apparently there’s a new TikTok trend that would be just great for him to do– and although he doesn’t feel that shaken, he must look it, because they only get halfway through a discussion of trending sounds before the agent asks if everything is alright.

Carlos scoffs. “Of course I’m alright.”

The agent arches a brow. “Are you sure? You look a little unsettled. Don’t tell me you were talking to George about track times again, he has that effect on everyone before qualis.”

Carlos shakes his head. “No, I didn’t see him. I was speaking with Charles, though, about nothing in particular. Just coffee and soulmates and stuff.” Unable to stop himself, he leans a little closer, drops his voice until it’s more of a whisper. “He’s found his soulmate, hasn’t he? She’s got to be around here somewhere.”

His PR agent, surprisingly, shakes their head. “No, he’s said nothing about it to us, and we’ve asked loads of times. Are you certain that they’re a she, though? That wasn’t the impression I got.”

Carlos stands utterly still. He thinks his blood may have cooled in his veins, congealing into a solid. He is not sure he could move if he tried. “Charles told you that?”

“Once,” the agent says offhandedly. “He got sick of us asking about his mystery woman. I don’t think he meant to let it slip, but you know how he is with secrets.”

They’re laughing at that. Carlos tries to chuckle along with him, but he can’t really do more than nod, because now he’s thinking about Charles’ soulmate being a man. It’s the driver in him, he supposes, the dreamer, that if he can imagine any scenario he would also imagine himself in it, and so it follows that now Carlos cannot stop thinking about the man on the other side of Charles’ heart being him, being Carlos. The picture fits a little too well.

Carlos had never pictured his soulmate and thought of a man, but sometimes he’ll be up on the podium with Charles, champagne high and bright in the air, and he thinks maybe– maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing, not having a girl like that. He already knows what it’s like, anyway, to be at the top of the world and have another man standing there with him. If God did not intend for us to be with someone of the same sex, then why would He make it feel so natural?

Carlos somehow manages to end the conversation, to slip back into the relative safety of his driver’s room and lean his entire body weight against the door. He stares up at the ceiling, hands fisting the red fabric of his Ferrari jacket at his sides, and he lets himself, for the first time, wonder if his soulmate might not be a man as well. Anything Charles can do, Carlos can too, or so the commentators have started to say. Anyone Charles could love, Carlos could too. Anything his would be theirs.

It is a risky thought. Pessimists will tell you that soulmates are good for nothing but getting your hopes up. Carlos does not know who his soulmate is nor, odds are, will he ever. It does no good to think about what he wants until he already has it.

Later that day, Carlos tells his soulmate in non-descript block letters, All things must end. He caps the pen and covers his hand for the rest of the day. He sees Charles some hours later, looking pale and frightened. Carlos cannot, will not, imagine why.

He tries to push it from his mind. They are not hiding in Ferrari hospitality for the thrill of it, after all, but to prepare for the race ahead. Qualifying comes and goes, nothing to write home about but at least they should be decently in the points. One of them might be able to make it to a podium if they can give Lando Norris the slip. The best case scenario is that Checo will bin it so they could get a 1-2, but who knows if they’ll have any semblance of luck today.

Carlos qualified one position ahead of Charles. Fred Vasseur is already starting to eye him like a lamb to the slaughter, and Carlos makes a mental reminder to continually ask his engineer for Charles’ times during the race. He has a feeling that team orders might be given.

Strangely enough, it doesn’t make Carlos angry towards Charles as much as he thinks it should. He is irritated by Ferrari, of course, for picking one driver over another, but that’s expected in any given scenario in which the cars are swapped. Usually, though, that sort of thing happens enough times that you start directing your ire towards the other driver, but Carlos cannot manage that. In fact, he never has. Hating Charles is unthinkable. It would be easier to hate himself. Right?

Getting ready in his driver’s room before the race that Sunday, Carlos is struck by a sudden, unthinkable idea. He rummages around in his belongings for a while before coming up with a pen. Dark, thick, the kind you use for autographs when the hapless fan forgets to bring a writing implement of their own. Carlos uncaps it, stares at his skin, then starts to scribble. Words, underlined, circled. Do well. Good luck. Please.

He doesn’t know if– but he could, maybe, if he saw. Carlos loses himself in a frenzy, then snaps out of it just as quickly when his palms get covered in writing. The sound of footsteps outside his door makes him flinch, and he tugs on his gloves as fast as he can, smearing the ink even more than before. It doesn’t matter. Odds are nothing will come of this anyway.

The race goes as expected. Checo does not crash, much to the chagrin of all other teams, and Carlos gets stuck behind him long enough that they start talking about switching him with Charles, which happens around lap forty. When the checkered flag waves, Charles is third, Carlos fourth. He parks quickly and hurries over to the front. By the time he gets there, Charles has already withdrawn inside the cooldown room but Carlos can shoulder in with the other Ferrari crew and shout and slap each other on the back and that’s good, too, it really is.

He will tell himself that it is. Carlos, by now, has gone to a lot of teams and learned about a lot of strategy choices. He knows how to convince himself that something is fine, that the decisions of the team are ones he agrees with. He can idle with the crew and stare up at the podium with a fixed smile on his face, because Carlos is a Good Teammate and Good Teammates show up for each other. They accept team orders when they come their way. They do not stand in the shade of someone else’s idol and think, this isn’t fair.

Of course it isn’t fair, it’s motorsport. Charles is the one they love the most, even when he’s erratic and crashes every other race. Charles is the pretty boy, the golden one, Il Predestinato. Carlos is merely his father’ son.

Charles, who figured out the whole game of soulmates months before. He guessed, at least. Told that to Carlos one night, grinning, drunk, spiraling after another lost podium. Charles had waited with wide eyes and a frozen smile as if waiting for Carlos to put something together, but the other shoe never dropped and eventually the moment ended, both of them pulled apart by other friends, downing other drinks, pretending they never existed.

Carlos thinks of it now. He watches Charles emerge from the shadows of the space behind the podium to stand in the blinding sunlight, waving down at all of them. One of the mechanics is elbowing him in the side, speaking in that low voice they all get when they do the boy’s club talk, you know, someone’s soulmate likes him well enough, obviously, and Carlos has no idea what he’s talking about until he looks up and sees. Sees Charles, his palms dark with ink. From up here, it’s too small to see what is written. The Catholic boy in him thinks stigmata which is wrong, obviously, because there is no great divine mystery here, not when Carlos knows what happened.

Not when Carlos was the one to write all of it earlier that day. He’d almost forgotten during the course of the race, but it all comes flooding back now. That’s his ink on Charles’ hands, and that means– That means Charles is his soulmate. Always has been. Always will be.

Carlos stares up at him. Charles looks down, and although he’s been grinning with victory this whole time, the smile that slides onto his face upon seeing his teammate is different than before, it’s knowing. Charles knows that Carlos has figured it out at last. He’s been waiting for him to do it all this time.

It’s almost obscene, how close Charles must have come to telling him about a thousand times. Who would risk it like that? No one. Charles would. Carlos pictures him with the Sharpie earlier that week, black tip poised above his skin. How he’d caught himself before giving himself up. Perfect timing, a driver’s reflexes. Like managing to right yourself right before sending your car into the wall. Or, better, like doing it anyway. Like accelerating before you go. Like leaving your hands on the wheel so your wrists can break, too, not just your heart.

Yes, Charles would. Charles Leclerc would. Charles, so impatient for his first championship that he’d give up his current chance by overshooting every corner, by doing too much until he ends up in the wall time and time again. This is the man who would expose his soulmate like a throat to a knife, and Carlos has known this about him for years.

The Ferrari section of the paddock is insane after getting a podium, so no one notices when Carlos fights his way through the crowds to let himself into Charles’ driver’s room. It’s empty when he arrives, Charles must have many more people to get through, so he paces relentlessly back and forth until Charles shows up.

Charles bursts through the door, still talking to someone down the hall. His exuberance crashes to a halt the second he sees Carlos waiting, and he hurriedly tells whoever is there not to wait up. Charles carefully closes the door behind him, locks it too, and then it’s just the two of them and this great and all encompassing secret for company.

Charles swallows. “You know.”

Of course he does. Friends show up at each other’s driver’s rooms all the time, but this isn’t just on the order of congratulations for a good race result. They would not be hovering on the edge of this great precipice if it was just that.

“You knew earlier,” Carlos challenges.

Charles ducks his head in a nod. “I did.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Carlos asks.

Charles’ gaze is shifty, it flicks from ceiling to floor to walls, anywhere but Carlos himself. Charles has always been a daredevil for the risks, but he’s never had the stomach for what becomes of them. The consequences are always a thousand times worse than the actions.

“I didn’t think you would want it. Want me,” he corrects, almost whispering.

This is so absurd that Carlos almost wants to laugh. Almost, because the look on Charles’ face is so pitiful that he can’t even smile. “Why wouldn’t I?” Carlos asks.

Charles blinks in surprise. “Because you were never even that interested in finding out who your soulmate was, mate. Always said it would just be some girl you didn’t know. I didn’t want to see your face when you realized you didn’t even get some girl but me.”

“I didn’t want to look too much into my soulmate because I was afraid it wouldn’t be you,” Carlos says in a rush, and as he admits it he knows it’s true.

How could it be anything but that? Carlos could have picked any team, but he went here. A hardheaded (formerly red) bull chasing not just the scarlet flag but the matador himself. Charles, all along.

Charles’ eyes are wide, lashes darker even than the ink still staining his palms. “So you’re not mad, then?” He asks cautiously.

“Not mad and not leaving,” Carlos reiterates.

A ghost of a smile flickers over Charles’ lips. “You cannot blame me for wanting to be sure, I didn’t want you to go until I managed to tell you.”

“You certainly took your time about it,” Carlos comments.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Just because we are racers does not mean we have to do everything fast, Carlos. Be patient.”

Carlos arches a brow. “You are telling me that?”

Charles has the grace to look at least a little ashamed. “Yes. Well. I can be patient now.”

Of course he can. They both can. Most people spend their entire lives searching for the answer to a question that is no longer a mystery to either of them. Time is all they have, time and sweet-sticky champagne and the sensation of being at the top of the world. Nothing will change them. Everything will. For once, though, the change does not scare him. It’s not bad, all of the time.

Sometimes, it brings him Charles. Sometimes, it brings him this. No, not bad in the slightest.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

also: @quill-of-a-sparrow

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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zyonsay · 28 days

Note

Hey I wanted to ask if you could write a Yuki Tsunoda X male reader smut? :)

Maybe where the reader helps Yuki steam off after a bad race or something Yknow? I'm sorry I'm not that creative with ideas 😭

I hope you can make sense of it haha And if you don't want to write for him that's okay as well<3 (or if I didn't saw his name in the list for the people you don't write for, I apologise)

Pearl Necklace YT22

fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Maybe he needs to blow off some steam

Reader: Male

Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Biting, Blood (Everything is consensual)

Now playing: 'Take me to Church' by Hozier

AN: Hello guys! This took longer than expected haha, but im kinda happy with the outcome. idk its 1 in the morning so i might be wrong lol. But anyways, first Yuki content on my blog!! love that <3 This somehow has me thinking of vampire Yuki......

Gloves flew through the garage, one landed on a stack of tires the other fell to the ground and was left there. He ran a hand trough his black strands, muttering something while walking down the pit lane. Some worried looks were thrown his way, but that only made him angrier. He didn’t need any pity, who did they think he was? He could swear that he felt his blood blubber and boil in his veins.

While fidgeting with the baseball cap in your hands, you closely watch the screen, a camera was being shoved in Yuki’s face. God, this feels like watching some stupid drama show and not a sports program. His now ungloved hands were balled into fists and his expression looked sour, or at least the look in his eyes did, since he was still wearing his helmet. With a swift movement Yuki escaped the media and made a run for the team hospitality, where you had been waiting for him. You would’ve watched the race from the pit wall, but a terrible headache had come over you. The sun was cruelly shining, and your headache just got worse, so you retreated inside to take some meds.

The door was closed, not so gently though. You heard muffled steps and the low rumble of your boyfriend. He was easygoing and a fun guy for sure, but he was also very critical of himself. Whenever he didn’t place well, Yuki always thought that it was his fault alone. A few moments pass and a head of raven hair peeked trough the door. With little to no care he slid of his shoes and kicked them aside before taking a few quick steps towards you. Knowing how he must feel you rushed off your chair and immediately into his arms. “Hey there.” The whisper that fell from your lips was very quiet, only you two could hear it. Well, there weren’t many people around anyways, but you still kept your voice low. His shoulders were tense and maybe it was your imagination, but he seemed to be shaking with anger. “I don’t wanna think about this bullshit right now.” Yuki scoffed slightly, his silky black hair was messed up from the balaclava and his eyes darted around the room in a nervous manner. He slid one of his hands behind your neck, like a threatening snake, but you know that he’ll always be careful with you. With a swift motion, he had pulled you into a kiss. It was hungry, even starving. There was a longing sensation in the way his breath trickled down your cheek, he wasn’t begging. He was demanding.

A soft gasp fell from your lips, then a small hum of pleasure slipped out too. His eyes darted up to yours, it almost seemed as if his pupils were dilated like a cat who had just discovered it’s prey. His hand came up from underneath your shirt and gripped your throat. Yuki’s body was pressed against yours, squishing you in between his warmth and the door of his driver’s room. Your blood was stirring and swirling around your veins, a tingly feeling had sat itself in your stomach. Admittedly, you felt bad for Yuki but something about him being furious is so irresistible. The thoughts in your head were shushed away by the growing feeling of dizziness, his hand hadn’t left your neck yet and you were struggling to get any air. A smile tugged at his lips, before he loosened his grip and pressed a few kisses along your jaw. Heavy breaths made your chest heave and sink, you gently pushed your boyfriend backwards. Your gaze darted towards his dark eyes. They were almost completely black, only from very close up you could see a hint of brown in them.

The back of Yuki’s legs hit his chair, which was pulled out from underneath the desk. He reached back and scooched the chair closer to him, and then sat down. He tauntingly tilted his head, waiting for your next move. His eyes were trained on yours, it almost seemed as if he was testing you. But you weren’t gonna let him have this. You too tilted your head, keeping eye contact with him. The driver’s rooms are small, so only a few steps were enough for you to stand right in front of him. His dark lashes fluttered while his characteristic smile spread over his face. “Come here.”, he whispered while gesturing to his lap. You were about to swing your leg over his, as he quickly turned around you your back was pressed closely to his chest. He reached around your torso and began unbuckling your belt. His lips lingered over your neck; his breath felt awfully hot on your skin. Yuki’s soft kisses quickly turned into love bites and his hand was teasing you trough your underwear. This was too much and too little at once, you could’ve exploded right there. In a swift motion, he had pulled down your boxers. The cold air hit your member and a shiver ran down your back, this made Yuki smile, you could feel it on your neck. His left hand massaged your thigh while his other one gently took your cock and began stroking it slowly. Way too slowly. Out of desperation you bucked into his hand, earning you a chuckle and a light slap on your thigh. A sweet whine escaped your throat, and you leaned your head back against Yuki’s shoulder. Your boyfriend hummed in approval, “Does that feel good?” Yes, it did. God, it was fucking incredible. Caught in a haze, you could only stammer out what seemed to resemble a weak ‘yes’. Soon after he sped up his movement, tightening his grip around your dick slightly, shortly after being rewarded loud gasps from you. He was enjoying this scene, it put him at ease. You were melting like putty in his hands, in moments like these he could do anything with you. This sense of control pleased him tremendously, but this was a mutual game.

Yuki bit down on your shoulder, leaving deep teeth marks in your skin. One day you would have to get those trending bitemark tattoos for sure. But for now, the pulsing raspberry redness was more than enough. Once again, he sped up and kept kissing your now sensitive, irritated skin. A hot, sweet feeling was pooling in your stomach. A stinging sharp pain surged through your neck. And before you knew-

-it had stopped. Yuki’s teeth were sunken deep into your skin, when he let off small droplets of blood began pooling in the dents his teeth had left. They were crimson red and looked like beautiful red pearls. You whined and winded in his touch, from pain, frustration but mostly from want. He delicately hummed before gently licking a long stripe from your shoulder up to your jaw, savoring the iron-like taste of your blood. “Love you.”, he whispered before he began jerking you off again.

#zyonsmail=͟͟͞͞ ✉#welcome to zyons rubber room #yuki tsunoda #yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda x male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #male reader #male!reader #male x male #f1 x reader #f1 x male reader #f1 fanfic #reader insert #gay #f1 fic #x reader

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froggy-demon · 2 months

Text

Oh Deer - Part Four

A/N: thank you again for all of the support!! I had to rewrite this one a couple of times because I just couldn’t decide, I hope you like it <3 I’m so excited to share my writings and I’m so astonished every time y’all leave nice comments I love them so much, thank you!! All of that said, enjoy!

Chapter Summery: Lilly is treated to a glamorous night out under the Vs’ roof, accompanied by a familiar demon, angst and tension ensues.

Masterlist

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I rolled my eyes, again, and waved away the idea. “No way, we both know Alastor fucking hates me, he just hates Lucifer more I guess.” Angel was positive that Alastor was sincere in his display earlier, I was not quite as delusional though. “He quite literally said he was fucking around.” I added. Even if I found myself fascinated with the demon, I wasn’t so naive to think that feeling went both ways.

“Maybe, or maybe he just wanted an excuse.” Angel paused and had a look of realization on his face as he broke out into a smile. “If you want some real attention though, y’know the Vs are throwing that big party if Velvette ain’t already dragging you to it you could be my plus one! Val usually keeps me pretty fucking busy all night, but they are actually pretty fun. Lots of cute demons and free booze if you know what I mean!” Angle said with a wink and laughed. That’s not a terrible idea actually, get out a little and have some fun. My streak hasn’t been so great recently so I could really use a win on that front.

“Y’know that actually does sound fun. Velvette hasn’t brought it up at all yet so she probably won’t need me there, but I also don’t have anything to wear for it, I’ll need something new. I could use some retail therapy anyway.” I said and rested my head on top of the pillow in my lap smiling. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that! Angel lit up at the sound of going shopping.

“Oh I will make sure you are the best dressed demon in the whole fucking party, don’t worry about that tuts! We want something that will show you you off!” He held up his fingers like he was mimicking a camera taking pictures of me. “You got it all babe! The tits, the ass, the smile! They are going to eat you up, especially once I’m done with you!” He ranted making me laugh. I don’t think in my whole before and afterlife I’ve ever heard someone describe me that way. “I’m serious! Al will see what he’s missing tomorrow night!” Angel teased very proud of his scheme.

“This has nothing to do with him, but I do like that idea. As soon as I get off work we need to hit the shops so we still have enough time.” I said trying to plan out the next night. Angel agreed and we worked out the time table to make sure we would stay on track. Work, then shop, then hotel to get ready, then back across town to the party. Excellent, tomorrow night will be all about what I want, it’s been a while since I could say that.

After a couple more hours of giggling and gossip, like hearing allllll about how Husk and Angel made eye contact today and it was riveting, we settle down to fall asleep while the purple lights twinkled above our heads. I tried to calm my mind, but it raced just thinking about tomorrow. This party is for high profile souls, overlords and wealthy demons in hell, hopefully I don’t stick out too much, but I like to think I’ve learned a good amount from my work. Maybe it will be enough to actually go a whole night without thinking about the radio demon, I can only hope.

The next morning there was a renewed joy in my step as I walked down to the kitchen to make my morning coffee. It didn’t matter that it was far too early to be awake, or that I was about to be yelled at for the next ten hours of my day, no, I would do it all with a smile because today I actually had something to look forward to. I cozied up in a chair in the lounge with my mug and breathed in the steam while I watched the fire in the fireplace dance.

1-2-click 1-2-click 1-2-click

I can’t help but wonder what makes him need to be up so early, what business could he have at 4am? He walked through the lounge and I tried to hide the fact that I was watching by playing on my phone. I couldn’t stop myself from taking in the sight of him with curious eyes, he was less put together than usual. His ears were tucked back and he wasn’t wearing his waistcoat. It was an odd sighting for him to not have it on. Without it you could see his sleeve garters which gave him an almost rugged look like he had been pouring over his desk for hours, and then you could see his little deer tail. He didn’t greet me and I was not going to be the first one of us to say anything so he passed through the room quietly. After he did, I took another sip of my coffee. Maybe his broadcast had given him some sort of trouble, or perhaps he had been returning to his M.O. from before his absence of torturing souls he saw fit on the air. I don’t care to listen to his broadcasts, when anything important happens I will know either from sinstigram or Velvette yelling about it the next day.

After a few more minutes of enjoying the peace and quiet of the early morning hotel I cleaned my mug out and made my way to work.

Upon arriving I could tell I was going to have a few extra duties today. They were already decorating the main event space elsewhere in the building, I could tell by the exorbitant number of tables and decor being moved around through the halls, and if there is one thing Velvette loves it is to micromanage how something looks. I go up to the studio and start collecting my clipboard and the ever growing list of what must get done today. Between keeping tv personalities well dressed, reshoots for the launch of Velvette’s fashion line, and now the party I think I’m going to need a second pair of arms. I guess that’s what we have the studio aids for.

“I need the Art Director for Velvette’s line in the studio, we need to confirm details and revisions.” I spoke into my earpiece and waited for confirmation before moving onto the next task and then the task after that. Finally some time later Velvette joined us in the studio and started barking her own orders as well. I joined the collection of demons flocking to her side for their morning abuse.

“Fucking finally, Lilly I need you to make sure everyone to set downstairs before you leave today. Make sure you have the vision plan and everything else I had them work up so you actually know what the fuck you’re supposed to be checking. If a single fucking chair is at the wrong angle it is your fault. Me and Vox have put too much fucking work into this party tonight for it not to look right I need perfection from you today. Even the seven bloody deadly sins are coming so if anything is not exactly the way I fucking pictured it, your leash will become very short.” She ordered and I nodded quietly. “Until then I need the stupid fucking art director for my line up here now!”

“Yes Ma’am. The Art Director is waiting for you with the concept photos for final approval.” I stated. She smiled, not exactly rare, but not exactly common especially while she was working.

“Finally you use that fucking brain of yours to get shit ready before I have to tell you to. How refreshing! In that case find the makeup artists, they keep running off to hell knows what and I’m this close to snapping one of them in half to set a fucking example, ungrateful little shits!” And with that she left to yell at the next soul she could find.

I spoke into my earpiece again, “Creative Director for Events, where are you? We need to check in immediately.” Upon confirmation that they were downstairs in the event space I headed there myself and we went over the binders of planning and inspiration the Vs had laid out. The event hall was really more like a grand ballroom, as hypermodern as the Vs were, it would seem they still found charm in some old world aesthetics. With massive crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, white marble floors, and dramatically draped floor length windows, it nearly looked straight out of a period piece. The colors for the party were blue and black, sounds like Vox won that argument. The tables were being set up with black tablecloths and vibrant blue hydrangeas, I didn’t even know you could grow those in hell. There were demons running all around the space sweeping, bringing things in, decorating the stage, the bar, exchanging the drapes out to match the color scheme.

I checked every chair and table to make sure they were level, every centerpiece for dead flowers and leaves, the stage for splinters, the drapes for snugs in the fabric. “Do we have the staff apparel ready?” I asked the director. She was a short demon who was lizard like with one large eye in the center of her head.

“No, we hadn’t coordinated that yet.” Of course not. I mentally rolled my eyes, luckily costuming was my bread and butter.

“I’ll handle that then, how much staff will there be tonight?” I asked clicking my pen so I could jot in down. 100 serves, 10 bartenders, 5 bands, 45 miscellaneous staff on the floor, okay, doable. “Keep a handle on everything down here, I’ll track all of that down, do not let them fuck it up.” I said and she gave a polite nod. Awesome, 160 coordinated outfits, because that won’t take all day or anything.

I spent a good few hours tracking down various sizes of royal blue suit vests and dress pants, royal blue suit jackets, royal blue button up shirts and black ties, royal blue knee length skirts, shoes, but it was possible with the size of our costuming department. By the end of the day I had neatly organized racks of outfits for each position and each size with a skirt or pants option. Staff was just beginning to trickle in the door and I assigned a few studio aids to help make sure everyone had the clothes they required for the night. Before it was too late I did one last once over of the ballroom. Centerpieces were good, chairs good, all the ambient candles were lit, I could see the bartenders just beginning to organize the bars, the bands were setting up their equipment, I think I might have actually pulled this one off.

I breathe a sigh of relief and I finish triple checking my work. Everything is set in place which leaves only one more thing: myself. I handover to the Event Manager who has arrived for the evening and she thanks me for getting us here, something I’m not very used to hearing. I thank her and text Angel Dust that I’m on my way out the door at work and am heading out to pick out a dress. He immediately texts back that he is on his way to the front of the building as well and we will meet there. I gather myself and get there just as he is.

Angel is in good spirits as he links his lower arm with mine, which is still a bit tall for me, and we start wadding through shop after shop. We know we are on a time crunch, but Angel seems to have something very specific in mind. Finally after trying on at least two dozen dresses and probably half as many shops, when I step out of the dressing room his eyes light up and a big smile spreads across his face.

“Oh baby, that is the one!” He spins me toward the mirror and I can’t help but feel a little self conscious. “You are going to be turning heads all fucking night in this little number! We might need to hire security for you!” I laughed at the idea and attempted to pull the hem down just an inch more. It was a very short black, strapless dress with a wide square neckline and a low back. It came with a pair of matching black elbow length gloves and I could already imagine how I would pair it with accessories at home. He was right though, it looked stunning. It hugged every square inch of my body and admittedly had more cleavage than I was used to as it seemed to defy physics by still being supportive, it was beautiful.

“Angel, it might be too much, I don’t want to go overboard.” I said biting my lip, but I couldn’t stop turning in the mirror to see myself at every angle. Angel grabbed my shoulders and looked at me in the mirror.

“It’s perfect.” He assured. We bought it and took it home with just one hour left to get ready for the evening.

When he stepped out Angel was wearing a black version of his typical suit jacket and shorts, exchanging his pinkish red gloves for a baby pink pair and kept his thigh high boots, he looked incredible and I told him so, he nearly blushed for a second before lighting back up as we walked downstairs.

“Me? Fucking look at you! Little miss straight-laced, you look drop-double-dead-gorgeous tonight!” He beamed, this time it was my turn to blush. I had added a pair of dark tights and my royal blue Mary Jane shoes, with a delicate royal blue ribbon tied around my neck like a choker. I pulled my gloves up a little more to make sure they were all the way on before running a hand through my hair. I hope he is right.

“Thank you Angel, I try my best.” I said sheepishly. Angel instead upon stopping by the lounge where the rest of the group was gathered to say goodbye before we were off. We stepped into the room and I smiled awkwardly as Angel presented me, very proud of his work.

“I give to you, the new and improved Lilly!” He sang and motioned to me. Charlie looked surprised but happy, Vaggie was about the same, but had a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. Sir. Pentious had a light blush but reassured me that I looked very nice. Husk was trying to hide it, but absolutely eyeing Angel. Niffty squealed with joy and ram little figure eights around us manically giggling about how nice we looked. Alastor was nowhere to be found though. “Where’s the big guy? I said I needed everyone!” Angel frowned.

“Please excuse my tardiness, I too was getting ready for tonight!” Alastor chirped as he walked into the room. He was dressed very well, his suit looked new just for the occasion as it was a slightly deeper shade of red than his normal suit and it was more simple with a short tail coat and a chain across the chest and it had a very faint pinstripe pattern to it. He looked like he had gotten a fresh haircut and maybe it’s my imagination, but even his old cane looked a little fresher to match. As I finished drinking him in I realized his eyes were going over me in the very same way.

“Since when are you fucking going to a party that Vox is throwing?” Angel asked the demon who chuckled.

“Oh I wouldn’t dare miss it, so many important demons and souls there tonight. I couldn’t give Vox the chance to twist a narrative if left to his own devices! Plus,” he pulled a small paper from his breast pocket. “He invited me.” Alastor had a wicked smile on as he stuffed his invitation back into his pocket. Angel gave me a small look that told me this was news to him, as it was to me. I guess Alastor is an overlord and Vox does seem rather keen on him. Even if they are enemies, best to keep him close.

“Well, I guess we should all get going then.” I said and before I could turn towards the door shadows crushed over us and just as quickly as they appeared they dissipated and we were in front of the event room door.

•

As soon as I saw her in the lounge I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Her dress was the most revealing thing I’d even seen draped across her figure. The visual mixing with her timid posing made something within me tick. Every curve was on display, the dress hardly covered her ass as the hem just barely brushed the top of her soft thighs, it scarcely managed to contain her chest if she didn’t have perfect posture it could be quite the display, her exposed back left her looking delicate and accessible. An anger burned in me, traipsing through a gala in such a vulnerable position, she should be locked away from such prying eyes where only I can look upon her form like this, where I can revel in it. The gentle look in her eyes made my mind race. How dare she look like that and yet so innocent at the same time, I wanted to ruin that innocent look, I wanted her eyes to hold nothing but pleasure and lust as I did so. If a soul should so much as hover their eyes over her a moment too long I might have to restrain myself from slaughtering them. As we walked into the event room Angel was quickly called away but Valentino, who blew us a sarcastic kiss from across the busy room. My eyes stayed trained on her though, she would not be leaving my sight tonight whether she knew it or not.

•

Alastor seemed in no rush to find any friends as he walked behind me through the crowded space. Hundreds of demons and overlords and hellish elites mingled around me. I secretly enjoyed his company, but me and Angel had agreed that tonight was about me and as much as I was intregued by Alastor, I knew that went one way. “Alastor, if you are going to accompany me tonight,” I turned and flashed a smile at him. “Would you perhaps be able to hunt down a drink for me to sip on? It’s awfully warm.” I asked, anxiously adjusting my gloves again. He casted his eyes across the room before answering.

“Why don’t you join me, My Dear? We’ll find it together. Then I can brief you on who not to talk to.” He stressed the end of his sentence like it was very important I don’t meet certain souls in attendance tonight. He reached to place a hand on my shoulder blade to guide me forward but I stepped to the side.

“Please Alastor, I’ll find my way to somewhere quiet until you return, I’m a big girl.” I teased a little and batted my eyes at him. I don’t know what his deal was tonight, maybe he had more foes than friends in attendance, but still I know how to get out of a sticky situation when I find myself in one, especially here.

“I insist, I wouldn’t want to abandon a lady at an event like this, who knows what kind of unsavory figure could swoop in.” The static crackled off his voice at the beginning. I felt his hand meet my shoulder successfully. His eyes burned into mine and I felt there was danger that I wasn’t aware of. I gave in and slowed to allow him to guide me towards the bar. It was quite busy and in the crowd my back was nearly pressed against his chest as we walked. I could feel the heat coming off in him, he smelled like fresh rain in the woods. I kept my hands clasped in front of me and kept a polite smile on as we finally reached the edge of the crowd for my drink.

Alastor left my side by less than two steps to order me a drink, I took the chance to look around the room. There were hundreds of finely dressed demons in attendance, a part of me was very pleased to see everyone enjoying the space I had helped to create and so far not a hair out of place.

“For you, My Dear.” He said graciously as he handed me my glass, if I remember the menu correctly this is a mermaid mule, giving it a violently blue color. “Now I think it’s about time we start making the rounds to say hello, don’t you think?” He grinned and placed his hand back on my shoulder blade as we reentered the crowd. It wasn’t really a question that explain answer. I looked up at him from the corner of my eye, he was quite cautiously watching the crowd. I couldn’t tell if he was looking for anyone in particular or not, but his mind certainly had a goal it was focused on.

“Alastor, I appreciate the escort, but really I was hoping to be on my own tonight.” He did not bother to look at me, but he did seem to see someone he wished to talk to as we gently started heading a different way. “I fear you might not be the most suitable wing man.” I teased trying to smile at the taller demon.

“I’m afraid not, besides please allow me to introduce you to the darling Rosie, overlord of cannibal town!” He motioned to the women just a couple of feet ahead of us now. She was tall and remarkably pretty even with her hollowed out eyes and her sharp teeth she managed to look friendly and lively. “Rosie! A pleasure as always!” Alastor sang.

She turned and lit up upon seeing him, waving us over. “Alastor darling, it’s so good to see you! Who’s this little number you brought along tonight? You better keep a close eye on her. I could eat her right up!” Her smile reminded me of his, but it was more sincere. She spoke with a very old dialect, but it left me thinking she ought to be sipping tea on someone’s porch with a novel in her hand. I returned her smile and Alastor introduced us.

“This is Lilly, an associate of mine from Charlie’s hotel.” He said and Rosie gave a small applause.

“It is very nice to meet you Ma’am, I am very lucky to be a resident under the princess’ trust. I hope you are enjoying the evening, I helped put it together, so please feel free to let me know if there is anything at all you need. I am positive we can make it happen.” I offered and she giggled.

“Oh such a sweetheart, you are! What a very nice swaray this is turning out to be, thank you! I can’t imagine need anything not already provided!” She assured me and she and Alastor continued to talk for a few more minutes. I watched Alastor as he did, he seemed to genuinely enjoy her company, it was a nice look on him, but his ears would twitch every so often giving away that he was still on high alert.

Eventually Alastor excused us, in search of another overlord to greet. We repeated this pattern a few times, one even joked that if Alastor was going to keep such a close eye on me he needed to put me ‘under contract’, or he would. I felt Alastor’s claws ever so slightly press themselves a little harder into my skin and his laugh was clipped. Once we had a moment to ourselves again I scanned the room for Angel or Valentino, I hadn’t seen him since our arrival, but with no luck. I did however spot another V. I could see Vox chatting up an interesting looking demon, he was tall and owl like and dressed quite regally, I recognized him as Stolis, rumor had it he did love daytime dramas so I guess I can’t be too surprised.

“Alastor, maybe I should go find Angel, just to check in on him.” It almost felt futile, of course I enjoyed Alastor’s company, and the feeling of his hand sent electric currents through my skin, but it also felt hopeless to think that he was thinking what I was thinking. Thinking about how he had looked so delightfully disheveled this morning, how he might look beneath his well tailored clothes, how the heat of his body might fully wash over mine, how his hand might feel elsewhere. It wouldn’t take more than a couple skilled movement to have me out of a dress like this and I was sure he was skilled. I nearly blushed at just the passing thought.

•

It took all the strength I had to not sink my claws into her. Why did she want to walk away so badly, I have been nothing but the perfect gentleman all evening and still she is not content. I flicked my eyes back down to hers, I could smell a faint scent of attraction from her, how sweet it smelled. Maybe I could use that to keep her close. Clearly she wanted some kind of attention tonight, I could give her a little taste. “Do I bore you? I apologize if meeting so many people was overwhelming, but it would have been rude not to.” I grinned, I allowed my hand to drop to the bottom of her back, just above her dress. “I appreciate your cooperation, truthfully,” I walked us forward and bent down ever so slightly so I could whisper into her ear. I could smell the perfume of her attraction better here, her back was stiff and I could see her chest rise and fall with every deep breath she was taking. “I don’t trust a single soul here to be alone with you, My Dear.” I said, my tone was soft but I couldn’t help the static creeping into my voice. It was true after all, none of them deserved to even lay eyes on her.

She looked up at me with sweet wide eyes, “Is that why, Alastor, you’ve kept me on such a short leash tonight?” She asked. Oh I would love to put her on a leash. “Afraid I might find a new overlord to pester?” She smiled at her own jab. “Don’t worry, I was just hoping to find a little bit of, y’know, company tonight.” Her face flushed softly and felt that pit in my stomach grow.

She wanted some disgusting demon to see her like that, to touch her like that. The idea made me sick, and more so my anger grew. The image of her sprawled out, eyes so innocent and inviting, her hair like the halo she deserved on the pillow beneath her, for someone else? I had to control my anger or before I could explain myself we would be back in the hotel, back in my room, and I needed to be here tonight unfortunately.

And that reason was walking towards us now as my smile widened I was keenly aware of my hand moving to grip Lilly’s waist instead to keep her even closer to me.

•

Alastor’s grip was strong, I followed his eyes to see what he was looking at, surely what I said hadn’t upset him like this. Then it made sense, Vox. While they have been throwing punches from afar via broadcast this is the first time they will have seen each other face to face since Alastor’s return. Vox was in the same suit he always wore, but it at least looked a little better pressed today.

“Alastor! Has anyone ever told you it’s rude not to greet the host.” Vox remarked as he walked into range. “I didn’t think we were inviting just anyone tonight?” He laughed, Alastor produced his invitation from his pocket again.

“Why, you personally signed it. There was a kiss and a heart on my invitation just like you always did.” Alastor remarked, flipping it over between his fingers to prove it, making Vox scowl slightly. I held in a giggle. His annoyed eyes landed on me and I suddenly wanted Alastor’s shadows to whisk me away from here. Work is one thing, I tolerate whatever abuse the other two Vs wish to throw my way as politely as I can to keep Velvette happy, but I’m not working now, and my back is against the chest of the soul Vox might just hate the most in all of hell. The other part of me wants to stand tall, who says I can even rely on Alastor for defense here, he’s so hot and cold with me. “And Vel’s pet, what a combination! I must say Velvette has only had the pettiest complaints tonight so that is as close as a job well down can be for her, congratulations!” Vox held out a hand for me to shake. I wanted to look at Alastor for approval or an excuse, I really wanted to not have to shake his hand, but I did. An acute ringing appeared in my ears.

“Thank you, Mr. Vox.” I said plainly. There was tension in the air between the two, but they both remained polite. It would cause too much of a scene for them to duke it out here in public. I felt the anger pooling in Alastor’s muscles as it felt like he was entirely still, not even feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed behind me anymore. I could feel his eyes bore into me, something I normally treasured, but now I couldn’t shake the animosity that was behind them even if that was not necessarily directed my way.

“I rather think red and black would have been a more flattering theme, but I guess blue is nice to some people.” Alastor quipped, adjusting his suit jacket proudly, Vox’s smile strained.

“It looks to me that someone prefers the blue.” Vox smirked and reached for the ribbon I wore around my neck, but before he could actually make contact Alastor moved us a step back. He held me with a force that threatened the delicate fabric of my dress.

“A gentleman would ask permission before reaching for a lady that way, and concede when she denies. Maybe you yourself are too modern for basic manners?” Alastor teased. His eyes burned bright red, contrasting his airy attitude and smile. I could feel his breath ticking the nape of my neck, under different circumstances I might let myself dwell on that feeling, I knew he was fired up. As bloodthirsty as Alastor may be, he has his values.

“You know I could introduce you to at least twenty demons here tonight who could show you a better time.” Vox couldn’t help but keep the irritation out of his voice as he stood with one hand on his hip, it almost sounded like a threat, I’m not sure if I wanted to know exactly what a good time entails for him. Vox played with Alastor’s protectiveness tonight. Ironically, here was someone who was basically offering me exactly what I claimed I wanted, but now that it’s in front of me and especially coming from him I had no interest. I was repulsed by the idea. I kept my back straight and tried to shake off Alastor’s grip a little, I don’t want to be intimidated by Vox right now. He doesn’t hold any direct power over me more than any other demon here. I’m sick of being pushed and pulled around so much.

“I’m plenty satisfied with my company. I’d like if you left us be now, I’m sure you can find time to taunt Alastor on any other day. We would like to enjoy the night.” I asserted. His plasma smile inverted. He looked like a petulant child being told play time was over.

“You’re welcome to reconsider, I’m sure Velvette would like-“

“Velvette does not care for my company, Mr. Vox.” I cut him off. I held back my shame thinking about her and forced myself to continue. “Goodnight, Sir.” He couldn’t hide his displeasure in my answer, clearly he had wanted to demean Alastor in some way by whisking away his date. He took two steps towards us, leaving just a foot of space in between. Baring his LED teeth he looked down at me.

“You ungrateful bi-”

“Be so kind as to let us get on with our evening wont you?” Alastor cut him off, static crackling off his words, he loomed behind me, his eyes practically begging Vox to push him further. He wouldn’t make the first move, but he wouldn’t step down once Vox did. Without looking past me Vox took a deep breath and straightened his tie returning to his dry smile.

“Enjoy the night. We’ll see you in the studio tomorrow.” Vox nodded in my direction with a glint in his eye. I stood in silence as he turned his back to us and rejoined the crowd.

I turned around to face Alastor. Part of me wanted to run away from here, be enveloped in his arms and just dissolve. Another part of me wanted his fingers to find somewhere else they could mercilessly sink into and to free me from my dress as we fell onto his bed. The part of me that won, however, was the part that looked at his angry eyes and smiled, requesting another drink. We could stay here if it meant he would keep holding onto me, if it meant he would continue to be just a step behind me no matter what, if it meant I was the center of his attention for a little bit longer. I knew I might have to pay for my disrespect in the morning, but that felt so far away at this moment. Right now I was safe, I was with Alastor, and that's all I wanted to think about. The ambient candle light danced in his eyes as he looked at me, and as much as he would hate to hear it, the contrast of the rich blue background only made his red hair and eyes look all that much more alluring.

He indulged my request and his grip on my waist was no longer lethal as he guided me to the closest bar in the event room. I ordered my drink and downed it to try to steady my head. Alastor gently hummed along to the band playing while leaning his back against the bar a little, he looked content and for a moment he almost looked like a regular person enjoying his night. If you wanted you could imagine him in life, whatever that had looked like, it was haunting.

“Alastor, would you dance with me?” I asked, unable to keep a smile off my face at his display. He stood up and took one of my hands in his and his grin grew as he gave me a small bow.

“Of course, My Dear, I’d be delighted.” He replied and we joined the dance floor not far away. I was, unfortunately, not a terribly skilled dancer, but Alastor led and I was able to follow. His arm snaked around my waist while the other kept my hand, my free hand rested on his shoulder. His eyes consumed me and I savored it. We had been close all night, but for the first time the proximity felt purposefully intimate. I nearly couldn’t bear the way he looked at me, half lidded eyes slowly raked over my figure before landing back on my own eyes. I wanted him to say something. Beside the fact that I was heavily focused on not tripping over my own feet, my heart raced and I’m not sure I could muster anything worth saying. This was the closest thing I could call a confirmation that he might be thinking what I’m thinking. Maybe he had been all night, maybe that was why he couldn’t let me out of his grip for more than thirty seconds. Or maybe he just liked putting on a show.

I was able to match his steps as we spun around the floor. He had a slightly softer smile playing on his lips. I hoped my nerves weren’t showing through in my smile, I felt like I had it under control, but as I held his gaze I wasn’t so sure my eyes were on my side. “You are a marvelous dancer, no need to worry, you are doing perfectly fine.” Alastor cooed, thinking that must be what’s caused my anxiety. I allowed myself I look past him for a moment to collect my thoughts. I wasn’t even an okay dancer, but it is sweet he would say so.

“I think you are the first dance partner of mine to say that. I stepped on many date’s toes unfortunately in life.” I admitted. Back in my dancing days I quickly fell down the rank of ladies at work to take out, I might be able to make you laugh but that’s about all I was good at on a date.

“Maybe the problem was more so with the partner.” Alastor said and twirled us around. “I seem to have no such problem.” He pulled me ever so slightly closer to him, my chest nearly against his. He was right, I hadn’t actually had much of a misstep at all. He was an excellent dance partner. He knew how to lead and to help me stay in time with him. Alastor gently guided my waist in the direction changes, or gave my hand a gentle squeeze. We were working in tandem quite gracefully.

The song came to an end and I wished it would last just a couple of minutes longer. Alastor released me and gave a slight bow, he was completely serious but I couldn’t help from giggling a little. Such a gentleman tonight. His hand returned to my shoulder blade and we melted into the crowd again. I thought about Alastor more, he is difficult, but it just makes me want more of him. I never know what I will get with him and as frustrating as it is it is also alluring. I pulled up the tops of my gloves a little, just to busy myself, as I caught my breath. I almost felt cold now without the heat of his body so close to mine, even though he was just a few inches further away than he had been it was enough for a chill to sweep through me. I hugged myself a little to compensate and blushed slightly when I realized how pronounced it made my chest. Almost immediately I felt a warm soft fabric cover my shoulders. I looked down at it as I pulled it closer to me and realized it was Alastor’s suit jacket before looking back at him.

“You looked cold, understandable given your attire, we wouldn’t want you to catch a chill now would we?” Alastor offered before I could even question him with a pleasant smile on his face. I smiled back.

“Thank you, though I paid good money for this dress, I ought to show it off. I don’t know when else I’ll ever get the excuse to.” I said and soothed the hem of my dress that just barely came down long enough. I moved to shake off the jacket, but his hand on my shoulder kept me from doing so.

His smile widened. “I think you look particularly lovely just like this!” His voice rang in my ears. Such a protective gentleman. I couldn’t help but to want to tease him.

I shrugged off his hand and his jacket, offering it back to him. “Please, Alastor, I insist.” He begrudgingly took it back and slipped the jacket back on, adjusting his cuffs. I looked up at him with shy eyes as I slowly traced my hands over my silhouette, seemingly to soothe my dress to anyone else. I watched as Alastor’s eyes followed my hands. “Thank you, I think I look rather nice, don’t you?” I asked sweetly. His eyes flicked back up to mine before I spun a little to give him a better look. His grip on his cane became tight. He looked at me like I was prey he was stalking in the forest, absolutely trained on me watching what I would do next. It burned into me and I loved it.

“You look very nice, My Dear. I think you know that.” He said, his voice was clipped, but not dangerous. I smiled. It was fun to get under his skin a little, especially given how he does it to me.

“Maybe, but I was just curious if you also thought so. You look quite handsome yourself, I rather like this suit on you.” I teased and adjusted his lapels a little. I could feel his breath again on the top of my head as I did so and when I looked at his eyes they were glowing a deep ruby color. His hand curled around my wrist, plucking it off of him. I could tell he was trying to decide exactly what to say, so I continued to press him. “Oh, does the touching only go one way? You’ve had your hands on me all night. I thought I might return the favor.” My heart was pounding in my chest as I looked at him. My vision darkened and for a moment all I could see was the glowing of his eyes and his crazed grin. When it lightened back up I knew I was back in the hotel, but in a room I had never seen before. My eyes found the forest that looked like it had been patched onto the room and I knew. This must be Alastor’s room.

The confidence I had held just seconds ago evaporated upon the realization. Alastor gently guided my chin so that my gaze was directed back at him. I knew my eyes were wide and my heart thudded against my ribs as I wasn’t sure if I should be terrified or thrilled, or both. His ears were flat against his head as his eyes drank me in one last time. “You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me tonight.” His voice came out low and no louder than a whisper. One of his arms wrapped around my waist like when we were dancing, but now his claws nearly pierced my skin through the delicate fabric of my dress. He held me close there, I had no answer.

Alastor used his other hand to slowly run the sharp edge of a claw along a path from my jaw, down my neck, over my shoulder, then across my back. My skin hissed at the sensation, it wasn’t even enough to truly break the skin but it sent shockwaves through my system. I stood perfectly still, I wasn’t even sure if I was breathing. I wanted him to just tell me, tell me if he craves me the way I crave him or not. I wanted more of his touch, but I was in no position to demand such a thing.

“As soon as I saw your little getup tonight,” He started to explain, deliberately fiddling with my dress’ fabric. “I wanted to whisk you up here, keep you away from any other soul who might see you in such a state.” I felt my face growing increasingly warm as he combed his free hand through my hair. “I didn’t think they deserved such a sight, but I didn’t want to upset you, My Dear, so I settled for keeping a close watch over you.” I melted into his touch as he held my cheek in his hand while he spoke. “I restrained myself then, but you have pushed me too far.” Alastor leaned his head in closer to mine, until our foreheads almost touched. His eyes were still a glowing deep red. “I’ll tell you a secret. All night I have been able to smell the lust pouring out of you, and right now is the strongest it’s ever been. You smell so sweet.” his neck dips even lower and his lips threaten to brush against my neck, the promise of sweet kisses tantalizing close. I could hear the sound of my blood pumping through my veins, I was hyper aware of every inch of my body that Alastor was touching, my muscles screamed for me to do something. Either run away or grab him and never let him go, waiting was torture. “You have to go.”

My mind raced. Alastor wanted me to leave? We were still tangled together, he made no real move to let me leave. My body ached for more of his touch, I desperately wanted more. I didn’t want to leave this moment. “Please, let me stay.” I begged, my voice breathy almost as if I was gasping for air. I didn’t need air, I needed Alastor. He slowly straightened back up and released his grasp on my waist. My skin hissed at the lack of his heat, the dewy scent of him retreating as he took a step back. He did not raise his eyes to meet mine though, instead his voice was low and gravely, charged with static and energy as he commanded me again.

“Leave.” It was not a question. I held myself back from arguing with him and backed away towards the door behind me. His shadows pooled around him on the floor. Some seemed to deliberately run in my direction as if to grab me and pull me back but any time one headed my way another would smack it back. I watched Alastor while my back was still waiting to find the wall. He was not his normal composed self, no this was raw. He almost looked ashamed, yet angry, searching for something to take that out on. I would pray for whatever creature he takes that out on if I thought it would help. The heavy rise and fall of his chest gave away just how agitated he had become.

Finally my back pressed against the wall while my hand began to search for the doorknob. I couldn’t look away, I couldn’t speak, I could barely move. Did I do something wrong? Can I fix it? I don’t want to push him too hard, but it gnawed on me, if I’d caused this outburst I want to make it right. I opened my mouth to call out his name, but before the first letter could fully form a shadow shot out to me, wrapping itself around my throat and jaw. I froze, I’ve been in the position before and did not want to make him more angry. Alastor slowly turned towards me, his breathing was labored and as he lifted his head I could see a gruesome grin on his face.

“I. Said. Out.”

I was forced backwards by the force of his shadow and only was able to disconcert the sound of his door slamming back shut as I realized I was now on the other side of it. I had fallen back from the force and found myself just staring up at his door. I suddenly felt small and alone here. Just a minute ago I had been the center of Alastor’s universe as we danced and now I was thrown aside and shut out. I wracked my brain for what had set him off so terribly.

I remembered his words, he had confessed to being attracted to me, and knowing I was attracted to him, it felt humiliating. I had felt so exposed and vulnerable in that moment, he hadn’t technically rejected me, but it sure felt like he had. My confidence had crashed. I wanted to curl up and die. I also wanted to march back in Alastor’s room and scream at him for making me feel this way, for building me up just to crush me in the end. Hot tears stung the corners of my eyes, but I forced them away. I don’t want to break down, instead I redirected the energy. You want me to leave? I’ll leave alright.

I slowly pulled myself back up and dusted off my dress, fixing myself and taking a long deep breath for comfort.. I cast one last hurt glance back at Alastor’s door and headed downstairs.

Shame, humiliation, and confusion swirled in my mind, perhaps distorting my decision making capabilities. I debated my next move, but I wasn’t in the headspace to think wisely. My feet carried me forward as if the speed of my steps could out pace these feelings. Soon my heels were clicking down the grand staircase outside the front door while my nails dug into my palm, my gloves didn’t protect me. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was walking, but I eventually found myself down an all too familiar path.

I could see the massive glowing light of the Vs’ studio signage even though I was still a solid mile away. It was as daunting as it always was, the blue neon looked like a bruise on the hellish red sky. It was fitting. The place that I looked forward to leaving everyday was suddenly a constant I could cling onto. I knew exactly where I stood here, I knew what to expect, what to do, how to act, who to be. I was thankful for that role, thankful for the rock it gave me to sink my nails into in order to hold onto something, anything, that made me feel better. Here I didn’t have to be myself and everything that entailed, I could simply be Velvette’s errandgirl, someone who did not care what that deer demon was doing back at the hotel right now. Someone who didn’t dwell on whether or not she would be able to bring herself to look into his deep ruby eyes the next time they met. Someone who didn’t miss the way he looked at her back in the ballroom with a playful possessiveness as the candle light danced behind them. No. I would be too busy for any of that.

I straightened out my back when the building came into focus drawing on a polite shy smile.

Quietly, I rejoined the event space. The party had of course continued in my absence, none the wiser to my personal angst. I cast my eyes about the room in search of Angel, unlikely as it was I couldn’t help myself. A friendly face would be nice right now, but no such luck. So I took a step forward, ever still conscious of my looks and of the crowd, and made my way back towards the bar. Alone this time, but the night was just beginning.

Tags: @cannibalcoyote

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfic #radio demon #slow burn #alastor fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel oc #radio demon x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel Alastor x reader #angst

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neewtmas · 4 months

Text

12 days of Christmas // A Lockwood & Co Advent Calendar

DAY 10

Hello everyone! It's the second-to-last post for this advent calendar, and today, it's time for my personal favourite. I wanted to include an x reader fic for every member of the agency, and after Lucy (day 2) and Lockwood (day 6), it's finally time for George! Seeing as this is a certified George-Fanblog™️ of course his fic is gonna be the grand finale.

But the best thing about today's post is that it is actually a collaboration! I wrote this together with the wonderful and insanely talented Eden (@givemea-dam-break) who understood my vision for this so well and I am so proud of what we created together. Thank you so much for doing this with me Eden, it was so much fun!!! love you🫂🫶🏻

make sure you don't miss out and go check out Eden's other writing here: masterlist

Brother Knows Best

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 6.3k

short summary: George's brother shows up at 35 Portland Row and shakes things up between George and reader

advent calendar tags: @givemea-dam-break @wellgoslowly @maraschinomerry @losticaruss @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @avdiobliss @strawberryloveyyy @strawberrycowgirly @demigoddess-of-ghosts @thefriendlyneighborhoodmomfriend @boookfreeak

my masterlist

day 1 day 2 day 3 day 4 day 5 day 6 day 7 day 8 day 9

It was a beautiful day in the middle of winter when (name) realised she was in love with George Karim.

The two of them were walking side by side, their breaths forming little puffs of white in the freezing air. It had snowed the night before, but all that was left were some dirty grey piles on patches of grass by the road. She’d had her hands buried in the warm pockets of her coat the whole walk, but still, her fingers felt stiff as she pushed open the gate in front of 35 Portland Row. George followed closely behind, carrying a bag full of books and newspapers they’d borrowed from the Archives.

(name) bounced up the stairs like she always did, not considering what the puddle of melted snow on the steps that had wet her shoes this morning would turn into over the course of the cold day. The worn sole of her boot slid over the patch of ice, and she lost balance, trying to grip the railing to prevent a fall.

But that wasn't necessary. George was there in an instant, arms wrapped around her and steadying her until she found her footing again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and she nodded, finding herself unable to speak.

He released her from his grasp, taking a slow step back. (name) could do nothing but stand still for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart. She had no idea if it came from the adrenaline of almost falling or the shock of having George be so close to her so suddenly. She watched as he picked up the bag he had dropped on the ground in his rush to catch her, and then searched his coat pockets for the house key. His fingers trembled slightly, probably from the cold, as he pulled it out and turned it in the lock, keychains jingling.

Inside, the kitchen was deserted, but the kettle was still warm so (name) just had to choose two mugs and quickly reboil it while George laid out the books they had gotten. At this time of year, the warm, cosy kitchen of Portland Row was so much more inviting than the somewhat chilly archives. They could turn the heating up as much as they wanted here, which was why they had opted for just a short trip over to gather some books and then return to the warmth of their home.

(name) brought the two steaming mugs over to the table and made herself comfortable on the chair beside George. He had already grabbed one of the books and was intently skimming the table of contents.

“You can get started on the newspapers," he said without looking up, flicking through the book to find a specific page. “We’ve got a few to work through.”

She knew that, of course, because she had been the one to go on an hour-long hunt for all the ones he claimed they needed. Silently, she pulled the heap of newspapers over and started with the one on top, dating back 15 years.

George took a sip from his tea and grimaced. "You forgot the sugar."

That wasn’t like her. She always remembered the sugar. What was up with her?

George leaned over and reached past her for the sugar, and (name)'s breath hitched in her throat at the proximity. She could faintly smell his shampoo and was near enough that she could see the little scar on his temple, barely visible, from a case they’d taken on a month or two ago. Wordlessly, and seemingly oblivious to the thundering of her heart, he poured some sugar into his cup and stirred, all the while focusing back on what he was reading.

(name) tried to do the same, she really did, but the fact that George was now so close that their legs were touching made the simple task everything but. How was she supposed to focus when all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears; hearing him muttering quiet words under his breath as if he hadn’t just stolen the air from her lungs?

It was when she looked at him then, a picture of serenity in the winter sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, that she felt it in her heart. Some urging sense of need, of want. A desire to do this for the rest of her life - to sit beside him, whether it be to research something or remember to put sugar in his tea or God knows what. To spend an eternity pressed up to his side, feeling this thrum of her heart. To feel the thrill of his fingers brushing hers as he reached over to peek at something in the newspaper she was reading.

There was no guarantee he would feel the same, she knew that. She didn’t expect him to, not when his life revolved around uncovering the root of the Problem. But she was grateful for what she got: the time he spared for her; the books he would gift her after visiting a bookshop on his way home from the Archives; the tea he’d make in the morning, served with some partially burnt toast he’d forgotten he’d put in the toaster until the moment it popped out.

And that was okay. Truly, it was.

—

35 Portland Row was in chaos.

George was in the middle of a cleaning spree, rushing around in a flowery apron and blue rubber gloves, scrubbing at every crack and crevice to be found - and, well, there were many of those. Lockwood was straightening the pillows in the living room, something he would seldom be found doing, and it was likely that he was stuffing things under said pillows to save having to find space for them in the cluttered house. Lucy, bless her soul, was making tea quicker than her hands could move and had spilt boiling water on her toes. Many curse words ensued.

This chaos, however, did not extend to (name).

Standing by the living room window, staring out onto the street beyond, she felt an odd sense of calm mixed with a hint of excitement.

Why? What incredible company could they be having that had the ability to send the members of Lockwood and Co. into such a frenzy?

Issam Karim.

She had been set on guard duty, ordered by the younger Karim brother to shout out when she saw him approaching. In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why George was making such a fuss about it. He had four older brothers, Issam, or Sam as he preferred, being the youngest of them and, according to Lockwood, the one most similar to George. So it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about.

Even still, when (name) saw a familiar mop of dark curls, she called out to the others and hurried over to the front door.

The knock came soon after; two slow taps followed by silence. George was there, staring at the door over her shoulder, tugging his rubber gloves off. And there was Lucy and Lockwood, peering from the end of the hallway like overly interested parents meeting their child’s friend for the first time.

(name) swung the door open.

Seeing Sam was like looking into George’s reflection, minus the glasses and with slightly neater hair. He was a little taller, broader, and, well, more adult-looking, she supposed. But he was most definitely a Karim.

And, god, did he smile like George, too.

It was the same kind of smile that George showed when he was proud of something - full of teeth and elation, with a sparkle of dark eyes to top it off. If it had been George smiling at her like that, her knees would’ve buckled and her heart would’ve threatened to beat out of her chest, but there was something different about Sam’s variation of the smile. Something extremely fraternal.

George ushered his brother in, scooting past (name) with barely any room thanks to the narrow hallway. Her heart lurched at the feeling of his arm brushing against hers as she hurried to move out of the way.

“Oh, Georgie,” Sam said, smiling at the decorations covering the walls, “you’ve been holding out on me. If I knew you stayed in a house like this…”

He plucked the nearest mask off the wall, scrutinizing it, and Lockwood looked as if he wanted to tell him off, but he refrained after the warning look George gave him.

(name) could understand that. He wanted to impress his brother, especially after years of feeling excluded from his family simply for pursuing a life revolving around ghosts rather than engineering.

She just hoped that he knew he impressed her regardless.

The five of them sat down in the living room, the coffee table laden with mugs of steaming tea and plates stacked high with biscuits and doughnuts. Sam plucked a Hobnob from one of the plates and chewed on it carefully, glancing around the room like a child at a theme park. He had a look of wonder in his eyes that (name) so often saw and admired in George’s.

“You’ve met Lockwood before,” George said from beside his brother. “But this is Lucy, and that’s (name). They’ve both been here a year and a half now.”

“Oh. This is the infamous (name)?” Sam’s smile was dazzling despite the scathing look George gave him. “Wonderful to meet you.”

(name) and Lucy shared a look. Lucy looked like she was trying not to smile as she caught Lockwood’s eye. It seemed like the two of them knew something that (name) didn’t, and it had her feeling a little uneasy.

“Nice to finally meet you, Sam,” she said, offering up a smile.

The conversation went well enough thanks to Lockwood, who started asking Sam about his university life and how classes were going. Most of what he said, however, was just confusing to them. As agents, they hadn’t gotten the chance to experience much of a school life, so all this talk of complicated maths and big, fancy words went straight over their heads. Sam didn’t seem to mind. It appeared that he just liked having people he could sound incredibly intelligent to.

Definitely related to George. Although George was much more willing to simplify what he was saying so that the others understood.

Not that (name) minded. She could listen to George speak in his overly-complicated way for the rest of their lives and she’d be grateful.

An elbow dug into her side. “You’re staring,” Lucy murmured, leaning close.

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring. At George. Hard.”

(name) blinked. “No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No! Look, over his shoulder, there’s a tear in the sofa cover. That’s what I was looking at.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, with lovey-dovey eyes, huh? You can’t even give a half-decent fib.”

(name)’s face felt awfully hot, and she couldn’t even get herself to look in George’s general direction. She hadn’t been staring at him, right? She had just looked for a moment, finding herself particularly fond of how his hair flopped over his forehead in soft curls; how his fingers fiddled with the loose threads from a rip in his jeans, and -

With a silent curse, she realised that, yes, maybe she had been staring.

At least it was Lucy who had noticed and not George. Although, she likely would have to deal with incessant questions at night when she was trying to sleep.

The conversation carried on for a while longer before Sam sat his empty teacup on the table and rose from his seat on the sofa.

"Alright, that was lovely, but I’m going to head off for a bit. I have some friends in the city that I haven't seen in a while", he said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Lockwood stood up as well, brushing some imaginary dust off his trousers as he so often did. "Will you be back for dinner?"

"(name) is cooking", Lucy added.

Sam turned to (name) and shot her a smile. "Well, in that case, I'll make sure I'll be back. Wouldn't want to miss that."

(name) lowered her head, embarrassed at the attention that was on her now. "I'm not even that good,” she mumbled.

"I think you're great", George blurted out, though if the slight pink tinge to his cheeks was anything to go by, he hadn’t meant to say it.

(name) was sure she was blushing now. She knew George appreciated her cooking, but considering his cooking skills, she sometimes wasn't sure if he didn't just say so to make her feel better.

Sam left the house a few minutes later, and any indescribable tension that had built up dissipated. Lockwood and George started up a conversation while Lucy and (name) grabbed the dirty mugs and took them through to the kitchen.

"So… What do you think of him?" Lucy asked as she dumped the dishes into the sink.

"He's nice", (name) replied, adding the dishes she was holding to the pile in the sink, though much more carefully than Lucy. She frowned at a chip in the top of one of the mugs. "But I didn't expect anything else. After everything George has said about him, you know, I half expected the sun to shine out of his ass."

Lucy snorted, leaning back against the counter. "George seems a little on edge, though, don't you think?"

(name) wasn't sure where Lucy was going with this. "He's probably nervous if we'll like him. He's family after all."

Lucy looked at her for a moment with an unreadable expression. "That must be it,” she finally said, before leaving the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the dishes that were still waiting in the living room.

----

(name) was quietly humming to herself as she sliced some tomatoes, periodically checking if the water in the pot on the stove next to her was boiling already. The house was still and quiet, just how she liked it. Sam was out with his friends, Lucy and Lockwood were out doing whatever - they had been gone since lunch - and were, in all honesty, probably fawning over each other in that way they so often did, albeit obliviously. George had buried himself in the library since Sam had left, mumbling something about 'important research and experiments'. (name) had the sneaking suspicion that that meant he was doing something with the skull, but what exactly, she didn't really want to know. Based on the faces the skull always pulled after a day like this, his expression more horrid than ever, it couldn't be anything good.

The evening sun was shining right through the kitchen window in front of her, and in her peripheral vision, she saw movement in the garden. She looked up and spotted a small red squirrel running through the high grass before racing up the tree. She smiled at the sight of the animal and its simple joy in the winter garden, but a sharp pain tore her from her stupor, and she couldn't help the yelp that slipped past her lips.

Immediately, her gaze fell to her hand, where a deep cut on her finger was bleeding heavily. Shit, there was blood all over the cutting board. Without thinking, she hurried over to the sink and held her finger under the water, cursing at how cold it was. The water faded to red after running over her finger, and she could already feel herself starting to get lightheaded. The shock of the cut was wearing off, and the pain was intensifying.

It was stupid, really, that she was in such a fuss over a small slice. Nevertheless, she yelled for George in what was probably a futile attempt. If he was deep in his experiments, there would be no tearing his attention away. Lockwood had tried many things in an attempt to get his attention, so she didn’t hold out much hope.

But just a few seconds later there he was, suddenly in the kitchen doorway. His eyebrows were raised, lips parted in a silent question as his eyes found her finger in the tapstream, leaking a seemingly endless amount of blood.

"Oh shit, (name), what happened?"

“Thought I’d add a bit of my finger to dinner." She spoke through gritted teeth, joking in an attempt to ease herself, or even George. It didn’t work that well.

She’d never had any problems with blood, and she’d cared for many injuries her teammates had sustained over the last year, but her blood - that was an entirely different story. George was next to her in an instant, rummaging around in the medical cupboard for a plaster of the right size. She almost laughed upon hearing him complain that they needed to reorganise the whole thing as he tore a long strip from a box and cut it with a pair of scissors.

"Can you turn off the water?"

(name) did what he asked. Before she knew it, one of his hands was gently holding her wrist, bringing her hand closer to inspect the cut. It wasn’t as deep as it had appeared at first glance, just long and thin, but it was still oozing blood. Most of the issue had been the sheer shock of it and the throbbing pain that filled her whole finger.

It was easier, though, to forget about the pain when his skin was touching hers. He held her so softly, dabbing blood away with such care that her heart swelled as she watched him, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to avoid the cut itself. He pressed slightly too hard, and her breath caught.

"Sorry, I'll try and be gentle,” he promised.

He led her over to the kitchen table, where she could rest her arm atop the scribbled-on cloth as he worked away. He was quiet as he took the plaster off the paper, slathering on antiseptic cream before wrapping it carefully around her finger. Something in his cheek twitched.

She watched as the concentration moulded his face into some softer version of a frown, the kind of one he often donned when working away in the Archives on a more complex case. Delicately, he stuck the remaining side of the plaster down before relaxing a little. His hand rested on hers, enveloping it in comfortable warmth, and she had to question if the lightheadedness she felt was still from the blood or just from the way he smiled at her.

For a wonderful moment, neither of them moved. His hand squeezed around hers ever so slightly, and his eyes found hers; his gaze encapsulating her very soul. She couldn’t look away, trapped in eyes that no artist could ever replicate, and found a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She could’ve stayed like that forever, would’ve given anything for this moment to last just a little longer, but it didn’t.

George cleared his throat, pulling his hand back and tearing his gaze from hers as he stood. (name) looked down at her finger, wrapped snugly in its waterproof plaster, and hoped he couldn’t see the blush that was staining her cheeks.

"I'm going to take over dinner", George said, shuffling awkwardly. "There is no way I'll let you cook with your hand like this.”

“But -”

“Research can wait before you say anything.”

And that was that.

(name) reluctantly did what he said and stayed in her seat, watching as he washed off the cutting board and then continued where she had left off. It was frustrating how much neater he sliced tomatoes than she did.

The pain that had momentarily subsided had come back worse, and her whole finger was pulsating with waves of dull pain. She tried her best to keep up a conversation with George, and not let on how she was feeling. No need to make him more worried than he already was. But it was clear that he was still concerned, what with his short glances back every two minutes. She had to fight back a little smile at that.

A bang sounded, signalling that somebody had just come in the front door, and she turned to look through the kitchen doorway to see who it was.

Sam, upon seeing the kitchen door open, made his way down the steps after taking off his jacket, smiling as he entered.

"Man, that was exhausting", he said, making himself comfortable on one of the seats - Lockwood’s. He wouldn’t be happy about that. “Forgot how big London is.”

"Do you want something to drink?" (name) asked.

"That would be great."

She squeezed past George, half-annoyed at the small walking space in the kitchen and half-grateful that she had another excuse to be closer to him, and reached up into one of the cupboards for a glass.

"What happened to your finger?" Sam asked, gaze fixed on the plaster as she filled the glass with water.

"Just a little cut", she said, plastering on some semblance of a smile. The pain was worse now after bashing it on one of the shelves. “Nothing much.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in a way that looked so much like George. "That doesn't seem like just a little cut", he said. "Can I check it?”

(name) didn't know what to do. She looked over to George, who was busy stirring the contents of the pot, seemingly not listening to their conversation.

“Oh, no, George has already patched me up. I’ll be fine.”

“George is about as good at first aid as our dad, which is to say shit. I insist. It’ll be quick.”

With one more glance at George, she sat back down, setting the glass in front of Sam. No harm in letting him check, she supposed.

He shuffled his chair around, sitting so that her legs slotted in between his, then took her hand and inspected the plaster. A shadow of blood was already peeking through.

"I'm going to take this off and see how bad the cut is, alright?"

(name) nodded in agreement, already dreading the pain this was surely going to cause.

George had turned down the heat of the stove and now leaned against the counter to watch them, his arms crossed. There was something in his expression, a sliver of unfamiliar emotion hidden in his eyes and the slight downturn of his lips.

"Is that really necessary, Sam?" he asked, his voice unusually sharp.

Sam moved closer to (name), slowly peeling the plaster off and revealing the cream-covered, blood-stained finger that had her feeling lightheaded again.

"Oh, it’s necessary. After that one time you tried to patch me up when we were younger, I wouldn’t trust you with a paper cut.”

George huffed. “I was eight. It’s not like I was going to be an expert. Besides, you’re an engineer, not a doctor.”

Sam only hummed, glancing at his younger brother for less than a second. A shadow of a smile haunted his lips.

(name) shuffled uncomfortably, gaze flickering between the two. Tension was rising for some reason unknown to her, and she had a feeling that she was the root of it. But why? She’d only cut her finger. That shouldn’t have been a cause for anything.

“Just as well I’ve checked,” Sam murmured. “That’s definitely more than a little cut.”

“It barely hurts now,” (name) lied. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

And it was. It had been. She had liked it when George had held her hand so tenderly, making sure not to hurt her. Sam doing the same wasn’t necessarily bad, but it felt wrong. Especially with that look on George’s face. He looked ready to kill.

That look alone had a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. Did it mean he felt the same as she did, even just a little bit?

No, she told herself. This was George. George loved his books and scribbling insults on the thinking cloth for Lockwood to find later and reading away in the Archives. There wasn’t enough room for her to fit in his heart. Surely.

Sam was quick to put a new plaster on, this one more neatly cut than the one George had rushed to tear, though there had been an essence of care in it. In reality, she preferred his jagged edges over Sam’s cleaner ones.

She wasn’t entirely sure if she was thinking about plasters now.

“Thanks,” she said, taking her hand back out of Sam’s grip. “Uh, George, how’s dinner coming?”

For a moment, there was no reply. Then George seemed to remember that there was a world beyond the little bubble that had encased the three of them and hurriedly glanced back at the boiling pan of vegetables.

“Fine,” he said eventually.

“Hope you’re better at cooking than you are at first aid, Georgie,” Sam jested.

It was clear he meant it to be a joke, but whatever had soured George’s mood had twisted it into something different. He all but scoffed as he turned back to the pan, stirring methodically.

“George is the best,” (name) said. “If we didn’t have him, we’d be living off of Lockwood’s toast and jam.”

George’s shoulders eased slightly at that. “Either that or spag-bol every night. There’s only so much of it I can eat.”

(name) laughed and so did George, albeit breathy and quiet. Even still, it had the pressure building in her chest ease off a little and had her heart aching to hear more.

Sam’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Dead silence. There it was again - that suffocating tension. (name)'s heart felt like it had stopped in her chest entirely, and George had ceased every movement. The wooden spoon in his hand hovered over the simmering water, dripping and dripping and dripping until the sound became unbearable and, somehow, too loud.

Did she mind someone assuming she was in a relationship with George? No, of course not. She couldn't imagine anything better for herself. But the hesitation in his movements, the way he looked back at Sam with what could only be described as acute disbelief, had her lunch making its way back up her throat. That tiny sliver of hope she’d felt earlier? Gone.

“No! We’re not - ” George stammered helplessly, eyes wide.

“Oh, my mistake,” Sam said nonchalantly. There was a glint in those dark eyes of his. Mischief. “Just from what I’ve seen today, and how much George talks about you, (name), I kind of assumed…”

“Sam!”

Sam closed his mouth, apparently unwilling to be further berated by his brother, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his smile.

- - - -

Dinner, to begin with, went as smoothly as it could after the bomb Sam had dropped. Lockwood and Lucy returned from their escapades, rosy-cheeked and laughing, but their demeanours soon shifted upon feeling the tension filling the kitchen. With nothing more than a look, Lucy seemed to gauge the situation and began talking about some of the strange stuff she and Lockwood had encountered on the streets of London.

Well, to her and (name) it was strange. To the native Londoners, it was an everyday thing. But truth be told, (name) was much more concerned about George… it was strange seeing him behave like he did.

George was often quiet, unless he was talking about a topic he was particularly enthusiastic about or insulting Lockwood or the Fittes team they’d dubbed their rivals. Yet there had always been a sense of peace in those silences, a comfort that allowed (name) to know that he was okay, either just listening or pondering away in his own little world.

Now, though… This silence was new and different and she knew that it was caused by the implication that they were acting like a couple. (name) tried to think over everything they’d ever done to make it seem that way - the lingering touches and long-held gazes, the time spent together and the happiness they always seemed to feel around each other - and she could see why. And if Sam had been telling the truth, George had talked about her to him in what she had to assume was a positive way.

So why was he reacting like this? Why did he seem so distressed by the thought of her?

It was halfway through dinner when she decided she couldn’t bear it anymore. He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t answer her questions on how his research was going. Wouldn’t listen to Lockwood droning on about heaven knows what.

She stood from her chair and moved away from the table. “I’m going for a walk.”

That seemed to perk everyone up.

Lockwood frowned. “You all right?”

“I just need some fresh air,” she said. “It’s stuffy in here.”

Sam shifted in his chair, making to stand. “I’ll come along. I know some good places to clear your head -”

“No, it’s fine,” (name) insisted, and her voice came out rather firm. “I’ll not be long. Just a walk around the block.”

And then she was gone, fighting not to look back to see if George was concerned or unbothered.

Why did she care so much if he was? He had practically ignored her throughout the whole of dinner, despite her effort to have a conversation, all because his brother had assumed they were a thing. Was she truly so inadequate? Was the mere prospect of being with her so terrible?

It didn’t matter. She’d be just fine on her own. She’d managed it all of these years, and she’d do just the same regardless. What did it matter whether or not he liked her?

But, as she strolled through the wintery streets, it became abundantly clear that no matter how hard she tried, it would always be important to her.

(name) loved George more than anything she had before. She would give him the world if she could. And part of her wanted to believe that, even if he didn’t feel the same, she would always hold on to those feelings.

But that sentiment was just for the romantic movies and sappy novels she spent her free time reading. In reality, she didn’t have it in her to give and give and give and get nothing in return.

The cold air bit at her cheeks, and she crossed her arms as she walked, trying to preserve any warmth that she could. Maybe she should’ve grabbed a thicker jacket on her way out, or changed from her trainers into the pair of boots she’d left out because, god, the frost was seeping through the canvas material.

She almost jumped out of her skin when something wrapped around her neck.

In a burst of fear, she whirled around and stumbled backwards before realising that the thing was soft, and it was warm. And the person who had wrapped it around her was someone extremely familiar.

“George?” she asked, frowning. Her hand reached up to the thing he’d wrapped around her, nails catching on the knitted fabric. “You brought me… a scarf?”

George, who looked mildly shocked by his actions, nodded. “Uh, yeah - yes. You, um, you left without it. I didn’t want you - didn’t want you getting cold, you know?”

“Uh, thanks.”

And for a moment, she lingered, waiting for him to say something. George stood still before her, looking at her in a way she was sure he had never before - slightly wide-eyed, awe-like - but he tore his gaze from her and looked at the ground.

It was then that the feelings she’d been consumed by just moments ago began to creep back again. Why was she still standing here? So what if he'd brought her a scarf? He hadn’t even been able to stomach speaking to her after Sam assumed they were together.

The thought was enough to convince her. With a tight, thin-lipped and awkward smile in his general direction, she turned to continue on her walk. She’d come out to clear her head, and although she was grateful for the scarf, George was jumbling her thoughts again, just as he always did. And, well, if he wasn’t going to say anything, then she was just going to continue her stroll.

“(name), wait.”

She was half-tempted to keep walking, but the tone of George’s voice was enough to stop her feet from moving. He was nervous. Yes, sure, she had seen him nervous many, many times, but this was different. With the slight tremor in his voice, so very subtle, he had all the power at that moment to stop her.

Slowly, she turned to face him again, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Yeah?”

There was a look in his eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen before. They had softened considerably from when he had been talking to Sam, and there was a crease between his eyebrows that showed a hint of worry she would usually have to search for in his movements. Never did he show his anxiousness as clearly as he did now.

“I -” His voice caught, and he tore his eyes from her face, instead looking at his muddy trainers. “I’m sorry. About how I’ve been acting today.”

She shrugged. “I get it. Your brother’s here. You want us to like him, but he’s getting on your nerves. It’s what siblings do. None of us mind, George. Sam’s nice.”

“That’s not…” It wasn’t what he had meant, and it was clear that he knew she was trying to avoid the topic. “Sam is a lot of things, you know. He’s annoying and insanely smart and kind and -”

“I’ve met him,” (name) said, not unkindly. “I know.”

George ran a hand over his face. “I know, but what I mean to say is that he isn’t a liar.”

Usually, George Karim was not someone to beat around the bush. It was one of the things that (name) admired about him. If there was something he wanted to say, then he would say it, straight and upfront. But to see him now, fumbling over himself and avoiding the point…

“You’re making no sense,” she said.

“What he’s been saying about me… me talking about you a lot.” There was a brief pause. “He’s not wrong. I do talk about you a lot. I think my mum knows more about you than about me.”

A smile tried to fight its way onto her lips, but she held it back. If this was going where she so desperately hoped it would, it wouldn’t hurt to have him say it directly.

“I suppose that’s what friends are like,” she said. “Growing up, my dad knew every detail there was to know about my best friend.”

If one were to describe George Karim, bold would not be a word they would use. Smart, of course. Sarcastic, yes. Awkward, yes again. Bold? Absolutely not.

But there was no other way to describe his actions at that moment. The certainty he stepped forward with, the soft yet assured feel of his hands wrapping around hers. God, he was so close now that she could feel his warm breath ruffling her hair. And his eyes, lord, his eyes. Despite the slow-creeping darkness in the evening sky, his eyes only seemed to grow brighter. She could see the anxiety creeping beneath the surface, whether it be for the actions that may follow or her possible reaction.

“I don’t want to just be your friend,” he said. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but she could hear the words as clearly as she would if he had shouted them.

She had known the words had been coming or had hoped, but hearing them was an entirely new thing. She could feel her heart swell with joy and relief, feel the smile that had so badly wanted to break free rise onto her lips. Her hands shifted carefully, cautiously, until her fingers could fit in between his.

“I’m sorry again about how I’ve been acting.” His words were beginning to rush out the way they did when he had too much to say. “I hadn’t felt ready to tell you, and Sam kept pushing and pushing. I thought if I ignored him I could sort my feelings out, but then I got too nervous and couldn’t even speak to you. God, you make me nervous. Did you know that?”

Her face scrunched with delight. “Georgie?”

He looked a little out of breath. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Judging from the look of pure shock on his face, he had not expected such a straightforward request. He didn’t speak, but he nodded.

(name) grinned, slowly pulling one of her hands from his grip to push his glasses up his nose before placing it on his shoulder and leaning forward.

As a child, she had not liked to watch the kissing scenes in movies. They had always felt awkward and, at the time, she had never been able to imagine sharing an intimate moment like that with anybody, nevertheless enjoy it.

But here she was, kissing her best friend, and loving it.

It was a little stiff to begin with but after a moment, they relaxed into it - into the feeling of fireworks and butterflies and warm lips. George’s hand squeezed hers, and his free hand slipped around to her back, pulling her a little closer.

The kiss didn’t last long, no more than a few seconds, but (name) found herself unable to compare the breathtaking moment to anything she had ever experienced. And, well, the look on George’s face told her that he felt much the same.

“I don’t want to just be friends either,” she said, finding herself feeling somewhat shy after such an uncharacteristic moment of confidence. “If that’s okay with you.”

George nodded with such vigour it was a wonder his head was still attached to his neck. “Okay with me.”

thank you for reading!

#lockwood and co advent calendar #george karim x reader #george karim #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood and co x reader

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cherrycola27 · 2 months

Text

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

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Chapter 18: Lose Control

The bed was cold without Bradley this morning. He'd left early to go to Maverick's workshop. The Bronco needed a few tune ups, and Maverick's shop had everything Bradley needed. He'd kissed you goodbye early this morning with a promise to be home by dinner. It had been a while since he'd been able to spend some time with his pseudo-father, and you encouraged him to have fun.

Resolving that you weren't going to get any more sleep, you rolled out of bed and stretched before meandering into the shower. Without Bradley in there with you, you felt the anxiety of being around water creeping in, causing you to spend less time in there than you would have liked.

You got out and dried yourself off before dragging your hand across the mirror to clear the steam.

You froze as you stared at your reflection.

There, looking back at you, was something you'd only see on other people. The neat row of numbers ticking away just above your head.

A lifetime counter.

How was this possible? You were a Goddess, never meant to die. But there, right above your brow, was the proof that you would. And what was worse is you didn't have much time. A few months. After doing the math, you realized your time would run out on your birthday. You'd barely get six months of marriage with Bradley.

You just didn't understand. It didn't make sense. But then you thought back to the cut from the mug at his aunts house. The soreness in your muscles. The fatigue you had. The bruises that seemed to come from nowhere that took ages to fade.

Something was wrong, and you needed answers.

You threw on some clothes and raced to your kitchen.

You grabbed a sprig of mint and quickly lit it. Moments later, Minthe appeared before you with worry written on her face.

"Hades." She breathed out as she took your hands. "I have horrible news, my lady."

"I'm dying." You say before she can speak again.

"How? How do you know?" Minthe asks. "I saw a lifetime counter above my head. I'm going to die on my birthday. But I don't understand. How is this possible? I thought I had one lifeline left." You say.

"Hecate and I weren't sure either. We were doing our regular check of the lifelines when we came across yours, and well—simply put, it's crumbling. It's very similar to when a mortal has a disease that kills them slowly rather than a fast snip of the line." Minthe explains to you.

"But I'm immune to mortal diseases." You insist. "Yes, we know that, which it was why we found it so strange. So we immediately consulted the Fates, and well—" Minthe sighs.

"What did they say?" You press her. "They said your lifeline is crumbling because you've spent too much time away from the Underworld and because—because you're married and tethered to a mortal." Minthe looks at you with sad eyes.

You swallow thickly. "So, if I go back to the Underworld, turn into my true form for a bit, that would help restore it?" You ask her.

"No!" She shouts at you. "Turning back into your true form takes so much of your strength. It would kill you!" She says. "The— for lack of a better term— best solution would be to ask Hera and Aphroditie to cut your tether with Bradley. That would give you enough time to complete your quest of worthiness."

"No." You state firmly. "I will not be doing that. Bradley is one of the few good things I have in my life. He is the first person to truly love me. He is my soulmates, and I will not cut our tether. If loving him means the end of my life, so be it." You tell Minthe.

"I understand, my lady. Hecate and I will see what we can do to help stop your line from crumbling. But for now, please he careful. I do not wish to see you back home unless you are sitting on your throne." Minthe says. She takes your hands and gives them a squeeze before hugging you and disappearing, leaving only the smell of mint behind.

The rest of the day, you wrestled your inner demons on whether or not you should tell Bradley. On one hand, he deserved to know. But on the other, him knowing that he was the reason you were dying, it would kill him. So, you decided not to tell him, at least not yet.

You'd give yourself a few weeks to figure it out.

.............

You could tell that someone was wrong the moment you and Bradley stepped onto base Monday morning. The air was charged with negativity.

You'd no sooner made it through the doors of the building before you were being pulled into a briefing room with Cyclone, Maverick, and Warlock.

"Gentleman," you began, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Commander Bradshaw," Cyclone cleared his throat, "we have credible intelligence that there is a cargo ship in the Pacific right now that is bringing a large amount of illegal weapons a bomb making materials to a nation that doesn't have our best interests at heart. It's currently being escorted by a foreign Naval aircraft carrier, which provides surveillance for it. We have been asked to take a small team out to destroy both the cargo ship and the carrier." He tells you.

"Admiral, when I came here, it was for a teaching position. I was brought here to train the next generation of aviators and to take the Daggers from good to the best. I did not come here to lead another death-wish mission." You say.

"Hades. We aren't asking you to lead the mission." Maverick chimes in. "Then what are you asking me?" You turn towards him.

"We are asking you how you would fly it. What would you do." Warlock tells you as he pulls up a graphic. You study the picture in go over the scenarios in your head.

"You're going to need five jets. Three singles and two doubles." You say after a long while. "Why?" Cyclone asks you.

A single and a double to drop a coordinated bomb strike on the cargo ship at the same time another pair strikes the aircraft carrier and then a single to provide back up in case you're spotted before taking them out and they launch their own airstrike." You reply.

They shake their heads, whispering amongst themselves.

"And of the Daggers, who would you pick to fly this?" Warlock asks you.

"Hangman, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy. Rooster as mission leader." You tell them.

"And why Rooster for mission leader?" Cyclone asks you. "Because he listens. He cares. He looks out for the whole team." You tell them.

"Well then, who would fly as the spare?"

"Me. Obviously." You say without hesitation.

"Commander Bradshaw, I'm sure you're well aware of Navy regulations and why you can't do that." Cyclone sighs.

"Admiral, with all due respect, I don't give a fuck about the Navy regulations." You chuckle. Everyone's eyes go wide.

"With the information you've given me, there is no way that our planes aren't spotted before delivering the payload. The other carrier will have time to launch aircrafts. The Daggers are going to need a spare ready to launch and go straight into a dogfight or tactical position. Who else has more experience in that than me? Furthermore, there is not a pilot, living or dead, in the Navy that's better than me. I'm not sending my friends and my husband into a situation like this without the best possible backup." You state.

"Well, Hades. If you're the best pilot in the Navy, why are you not naming yourself as the mission leader?" Cyclone challenges you.

"For the same reason you never put your best batter first in the lineup, you need someone to clean up the mess everyone else makes." You lean back in your chair.

"Commander Bradshaw, while your reasoning is sound. I can not send you on a mission of this caliber with your husband. I'm already bending the rules by keeping you on the same squadron!" Cyclone tells you sternly.

"Then I guess you'll have to find another squadron to fly this mission, sir." You chuckle.

"Excuse me?" Cyclone grits out, surging forward in his chair.

"Admiral Simpson, as you know, I have thirteen confirmed kills and zero failed missions. Do you know what thirteen confirmed kills and no mission failures get you in the Navy?" You ask him as you cock you head to the side. The men across from you are silent, their eyes fixed on you.

"I'll tell you what it gets you. It gets you a lot of friends. Powerful friends who are grateful for your work and owe you a favor. And I won't hesitate to go to one of those friends who out ranks you cash in one of those favors. Face it, you need me and the Daggers to fly this mission because no one else is as good as we are. So, either you bend the rules even more, or we all walk away. Your choice, Simpy." You click your tongue before crossing your arms.

You can see the rage in Cyclone's eyes. He knows you're right. Everyone in the room knows you're right. Cyclone holds eye contact with you, waiting for you to break, to call your bluff. But you're a goddamm Goddess who has never bowed down to a mortal and you're not about to start now.

"Fine." Cyclone breathes out when he realizes you're not bluffing. "I thought you'd see it my way, Admiral. Now, when do we leave?" You ask the men in the room.

"Friday. We will tell the rest of the Daggers today. That means every moment from now until we ship out is spent training. Is that understood?" Admiral Bates says.

"Understood. Now, if there isn't nothing else, I'd like to be dismissed to regroup with the rest of my team." Bates nods his head once, and you get up and exit the room.

..............

The news of mission doesn't settle well with the Daggers. You can tell they feel under prepared and caught off guard. You sympathize with them. Being given a mission of this caliber on such short notice, it's scary.

The car ride home with Bradley is silent. Neither of you know what to say.

The rest of the week goes by in a blur.

Soon, you're standing in a parking lot holding your husband's hand as you watch the rest of the Daggers, and the crew say goodbye to their loved ones.

Reuben holds his wife close, and Bob kisses his wife while cradling his son in his arms. Mickey's mom and dad hug him while Nat and Javy say goodbye to both of their families. Jake's girlfriend Jasmine clings to him as he buries his face in her natural curls and kisses her head. Maverick and Penny whisper hushed and tearful goodbyes before breaking apart and boarding behind you and Bradley.

You wish you could go up to all of the families that your friends are leaving behind and tell them that they are all going to be okay. You've checked. You know. The only person who might not come back for this mission is you. You'll keep them safe. You vow that to yourself.

You've decided to still not tell Bradley about your impending death. He has enough on his plate. You know that you probably aren't supposed to, but the two of you share a bunk. And even though the bed inside it is barely big enough for Bradley, every night, you're crammed in there with him, practically on top of him, soaking in every moment the two of you have together.

The night before the misson, you and the rest of the Daggers gather in the mess hall. You eat and talk, and it's almost carefree. But you and everyone else no better than to let your guard down.

That night, in that shared, cramped bunk, Bradley makes love to you like it's the last time he will ever get to hold you, and you love him back just as hard and just as fierce and with every ounce of your soul.

It's the early hours of the morning when the two of you finish. You both know you should sleep, but neither of you can.

"Everyone is going to make it. Right?" Bradley asks you as the two of you lay naked in the dark. You turn on your side using his tattooed bicep as a pillow. He drapes your leg over his hip and begins to trace the lines and patterns of your tattoos that he knows so well. Including the rooster that now adorns your hip.

"Yes. I promise." You say trying to make eye contact with him. It's dark, but you can still see the lines of his face relax. "I wish we could tell them, tell their families." Bradley says. "I know, me too." You agree.

Bradley cups your chin and brings your lips to his, and kisses you tenderly. "Why'd you name me mission leader?" He asks you. You'd been waiting for that question. "Because you're the best person for the job. You'll take care of everyone." You tell him. He opens his mouth to speak, maybe to argue with you, but a yawn comes out instead.

You both agree that you should rest. You need to be sharp for tomorrow.

A few minutes later, Bradley is fast asleep. Soft snores fall from his lips. You lay there in the darkness, gently tracing over his features. His forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his lips, his scars. You're committing all of them to memory just in case. Your lifetime counter hasn't changed, but you can't shake the feeling in the pit of your stomach that this is the last time you'll hold Bradley in your arms.

..............

The salt air stings your face as you stand on the deck of the carrier with your helmet in your arms. The sea breeze whips the stray strands of hair that refuse to stay pulled back around your face.

You and the rest of the squad have gone over the plan and your planes more times than you can count.

You linger at the side of your jet, looking at your name, Cmdr. Y/N 'Hades' Bradshaw, in the thick, black, and blocky letters.

You hear a siren indicating that it's almost time. Everyone starts scrambling on deck. Bradley finds you and grabs you by the shoulders, forcing you to face him.

"We all come home." He says. "What?" You ask him, looking confused.

"We all come home." He emphasizes. You know exactly what he means when he says that. Bradley has your number. He knows that you wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice yourself for him or the others if it came down to it.

"Bradley—" You breathed out, but he cuts you off.

"No buts, Angel. We all come home. Six planes in, six planes out." He leaves no room for argument. "We are leaving this boat with eight souls. We are coming back with eight of them, too." Bradley says, as if speaking it into the universe will somehow make it true.

You check his counter. It's still got the same fifty years it had earlier today. You sigh and nod your head, trying to ignore the feeling in the pit of your stomach.

................

Sitting in your plane as you listened to what was happening in the mission was torture. So far, everything was going according to plan.

Overwatch hadn't picked up anything unusual, and the weather made flying smooth. Maybe you were wrong, and maybe you wouldn't even have to deploy, and everyone would land back on the carrier safely, and they would unload you out of the catapult and tonight you and Bradley would stay up having wild celebratory sex.

But the idea of all of that was soon banished from your mind as you heard Coyote call about a rouge strike team.

You lowered the canopy, ready to be launched at a moments notice.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, beating so loud it filled your ears to the point that you almost didn't hear Cyclone screaming for you to launch.

You did so quickly. Your F/A- 18 sliced through the air as you pushed the throttle forward on your way to rescue your team. You were a few minutes out, and you could hear them calling out moves and counter moves to help each other stay safe.

Hangman was out of out of flares, and you could hear Bradley saying that he was coming to cover him. The closer you got to the team, the more smoke and gunfire you could see.

You quickly lined up a shot before sending a missle through the plane of one of the bandits that was on Phoenix. She and Bob thanked you as you circled back around. You directed them to head back to the boat and for Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy to follow them. You would help Bradley and Jake. There was only one other plane and you knew you could take them.

Jake called out desperately that he was out of ammo and missiles, and Bradley was almost out of flares. Thankfully, you were able to force the pilot of the enemy plane near some cliffs of some tiny island that ran along the shores' edge.

It confused their navigation enough for you to take them out. Quickly, you, Bradley, and Jake all made your way back towards the safety of the carrier while breathing a sigh of relief.

Only, it was short-lived because moments later, another bandit was on Jake's tail.

Before you could do anything, Bradley swooped in to protect him, using the last of his flares to throw the missile attack of, giving Jake time to fly ahead to safety, leaving Bradley with the bandit on his tail.

You were out of missiles and down to a few rounds of ammo left, but them enemy was locked on and so close to Bradley that if you fired, you might risk taking out your husband. You didn't know what to do.

Then, before you could think of a plan, you hear Bradley cry out that the other pilot and missile lock on him, and he had no way to deflect it.

You told him to quickly get as much altitude as he could. Bradley listened and jetted back up towards the clouds, giving you a chance to fire at the other pilot.

But you weren't fast enough. The enemy pilot was able to fire a final shot before plummeting into the water below. The shot was just close enough to clip the tail of Bradley's plane causing him to lose control.

You screamed for him to eject, panic setting in because you couldn't see his lifetime counter. You had no clue if this was the end for him. All you could think about was how it wasn't supposed to be this way. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Thankfully, you heard Bradley eject and saw him burst from his cockpit before seeing the bright orange of his chute open.

But as he fell, you realized he was falling too fast. His parachute was tangled. If you didn't do something, he would surely crash into the sea below and die.

So, you ignored the warning that Minthe gave you because you knew what you had to do. You didn't think. You acted as you let the fire of your true goddess form burn through your veins one final time.

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lillyoliviaaa · 11 months

Text

Their Perfect Angel 2

Summary ~ Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have always wanted someone that they can love, feed, bathe, look after. Their dream finally came true after they saw you. Their perfect angel.

You couldn’t remember that much after last night. The words “You are safe now” kept repeating in your head. How would kidnapping someone make them safe ? So many questions ran through your head, your heart was beating faster and faster by the second, your head was spinning. As you open your eyes, you realise that you are only in your bra and underwear and you were strapped to a chair in a sort of basement that looks like a nurses room.

“Hey Buck, she’s awake.” Bucky comes over and strokes your arm gently. “Hey baby doll, my name is Bucky and this is Steve but you will call me daddy and Steve Dada. Tears begin to spill at the words. “Hey hey it’s okay sweetheart you are safe now,” the blonde man says to you. The words keep repeating in your head. You want to scream but the pacifier gag is stopping you. You want to run but you are strapped in tightly. “First things first baby we are going to check you all over to make sure everything is okay,” the brown head smiles say to you giving you a warm smile.

“Buck why don’t you start up there and i’ll check down here.” Steve grins at the sight of you in your underwear, oh he can’t wait to suck and taste your pussy. You can feel your cheeks turning red from the humiliation, your strapped to a chair basically naked while your kidnappers check your body. “Right pretty girl let’s get you out of this bra.” You try to pull away but the straps are too tight. Bucky’s mouth starts to water as he sees your massive boobs. “Oh my god,” Steve and Bucky both say to each other. Bucky gets a surgical lamp to get a better look at them. “Very very healthy,” Steve says to Bucky. Bucky can’t resist anymore he latches onto your nipple and starts to suck on it like a baby. Tears steam down your face. He then starts playing with your nipples. “God she’s perfect Stevie.”

Bucky then strokes your hair to calm you down. “It’s okay princess there’s more fun to come.” You turn your head away from Bucky. How do they think this is okay ? “Once we are done we can take you upstairs and we can be a happy family, you’ll love it baby.” You shut your eyes again hoping it’s a nightmare and that you will wake up in your bed without people touching you.

“Okay angel, we are going to explore down here, nothing will hurt.” Steve smiles at you as he rubs your inner thigh. He rips off your underwear and grins at the sight of your pussy. “Fucking hell buck look at what’s ours now.” Bucky and Steve lick their lips in hunger. Your heart begins to race again you try everything to get out but you’re stopped when Bucky comes back over to you and holds you down. “None of that y / n calm down and be a good girl for us,” he says sternly. You turn your head away from him as tears pour out. Bucky gives you a sad smile as he walks back to Steve.

“Okay sweetheart, i’m going to put some cream on you to help us.” Bucky passes Steve a long swab and puts cream on the tip. Steve puts the cream on your nub and swirls it around. A pain you have never felt before escalators all around your body. To get your mind off the pain you see what Bucky is doing. Oh how you regret that. Bucky is putting lube in a plastic injection, he can see you looking at him so he comes over a places a kiss on your head. “This is going to feel a little bit uncomfortable but we need to do it.” You look at Steve hoping he would change is mind. He lets Bucky sits down on the chair which is placed in between your legs, he spreads your legs a bit more wider so that he can have the perfect angle.

“Take a deep breathe baby.” He then places the injection in your bum and holds down so that the lube can come out. He then sticks two fingers in your bum and fingers it. You start to hyperventilate until Steve comes over and attempts to distract you by playing with your nipples. Bucky then gets a toothbrush and brush all around your vagina. Your body shakes as Bucky puts it to high power. Steve grins at Bucky as he holds you down to keep you more secure.

Once Bucky is done, he sucks on your vagina, oh how this is how he imagined your pussy. He pulls back to see that you cummed again just from him sucking your pussy. Steve makes his way over and eats you down. Bucky can hear your moaning, he would take off the gag but he still can’t trust you. Steve starts to finger you harder and harder by the minute while Bucky get a vibrator out. He gives Steve the vibrator which is covered in lube to help you. Steve shoves it as far back as possible. They both lean against a wall and grin as cum pours out of your messy wet vagina. “After this we can have our go Stevie.”

Ten minutes go by and the two men can’t keep their hands off you. They storm over and take the vibrator out. Bucky and Steve strip each other naked and stroke each other. Your eyes hurt from crying. Your body feels like it will explode. Bucky comes over to you and whispers in your ear “It’s now our go to ruin you.” Whimpers, Tears, screams.

Steve lays on top of you giving it his all. “God buck she feels amazing.” Moans fill the room. “Come on cum baby, cum for daddy.” Steve shouts and moans. He rests his head on your boobs and licks your chest part after. Bucky unstraps you so that he can get under you. You jolt once you can feel something in your bum. You are sandwiched in between to super solider that are suffocating you. Steve and Bucky moan in unison as you begin to lose consciousness.

“Sleep baby, we will see you when you wake up.”

LIKE FOR PART 3 🤍

#bucky barnes #daddy stucky x little reader #bucky barnes x little reader #daddy stucky #steve rogers #dark stucky x reader #steve rogers x little!reader #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers

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elfqueen006 · 8 months

Text

The Lifeguard Part 1

Sunny Day Jack x Reader

---

Tags/CW: summer camp au, camp counselor au, horror, slasher, enemies to lovers. Reader is a bitch at first but eases up on Jack.

Minors DNI

You were the worst candidate to choose for a counselor, much less a counselor-in-training. You were crass, unqualified, and a slob to boot. But Sunny Day Jack, the camp mascot, couldn’t say anything because the kids took to you like ducks to scattered bread, and the head counselor admired your “can do attitude”. He’d just have to put up with you for the rest of the summer and to steer clear of the water…

Oh yeah another thing: You were the lifeguard.

“Cannon ball!”

Jack looked up from his clipboard to see one of the kids racing across the docks before jumping in the lake, making a large slash that sprayed everyone within distance.

“Hey, hey! No running on the docks, guys!” He said.

You however, clapped and whooped from your chair. “Sick dive, David!” You cheered.

The boy came up from the water and grinned at you.

Jack marched up to your chair and glared at you, “They’re not supposed to run on the docks,” he said, enunciating his words, “and as the lifeguard you should know it’s your responsibility if anything happens to them!”

“And I’ll take full responsibility, Jack-o. Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control,” You replied coolly. You drew your finger down your face like a teardrop and stuck out your bottom lip, “Don’t be a sad clown.”

The kids and counselors giggled upon hearing your joke.

Despite him being the camp mascot, Jack was essentially a counselor himself. Though he had fun – he was responsible. In his late teens as a counselor-in-training, he gradually built himself up to a trusted and respected member of staff.

And yet here you were – a newbie slacker – who was able to reduce him to a common fool with a single remark.

“Lay off,” Skylar said. She was your best friend and polar opposite. Sweet, considerate, and fun loving in a way that wasn’t arrogant or obnoxious. Call it childish, but he thinks he might’ve had a crush on her since this summer started.

She lightly chided you before pinching your leg. Then she gave Jack a sweet smile, brushing her blonde locks from her face. She put a hand on his shoulder and the man just about turned to jelly.

“Don’t mind her, she’s an asshole,” She said with humor, “The kids will be fine. I’m watching them too.”

“Thanks, Skylar.” Jack replied.

He turned to leave but she stopped him, lightly biting her lip as she looked up at him through golden lashes, “I know you don’t drink and all… but the other counselors and I were wondering if you would come with us to the bar tomorrow night? I notice you’ve been stressed lately and I think it’d be good if you let off some steam.”

Jack had a heavy problem with drinking and anything drug related. As in he refused to participate in it and at times discouraged his fellow counselors from doing so, especially when on the job. He knew he came off as preachy, but this place was practically a second home to him. And the staff were like his family. He’d hate to see what’d happen if they fell down a messy path like he did…

Or worse, hurt one of the kids.

Warily, he glanced towards the high chair. “Is she going to be there?”

Skylar bit her lip guiltily, “She is one of the counselors too.”

“Yeah, some counselor…” Jack muttered.

“Hey, sure she’s a jerk sometimes but she’s really cool when it counts!” Skylar said, “Besides, no matter how much she may be, you shouldn’t let that ruin your chance to relax. Don’t you think you deserve that?”

He glowered at you from afar. One of the kids had fallen off a boat and instead of reacting accordingly, you started cackling before being told by another counselor to go and fetch them. But then he looked down and those perfect sky blue eyes looked back up at him. He sighed defeatedly.

“I guess I can make…some kind of compromise. But if it gets too hectic I’ll leave!” Jack said.

“No you won’t,” Skylar said, nudging his arm, “because we’ll need a spotter so we don’t get too drunk and someone to take us home.”

He huffed a laugh, “Right.”

She grinned and sprinted past him, her hair flowing behind her. Halfway to the main cabin, she waved back to him.

“See ya there!”

—

Regret. Sooo much regret. Everyone was a drunken mess. Nay, a frenzy. And Jack wasn’t too far behind. At first he’d been lightly sipping his drink, but it seemed like every inane comment from you drove him to take in more than he intended.

“No no no, you don’t understand. I’m the lifeguard right? Why do these kids come to me like I’m their guidance counselor?” You said.

“You are a counselor!” One of the others replied.

“Yeah but I help with activities and shit, not talk to these kids about why no one will date them at fucking middle school age- like kid! You better go and do some homework!”

Everyone roared with laughter.

“And they’re just gonna sneak in each others’ cabins later sooo-”

“Maybe,” Jack blurted suddenly, “Maybe they wouldn’t be doing that if you educated them properly for once, Y/N.”

You shake your head, “I’m not their sex ed teacher, Jack. Miss me with that.”

“Will you let me finish? If you just did. Your. Jooob,” He smacks his hand in his palm in tune with his words, “then I wouldn’t have to pick up your slack for every time you fuck up!”

The counselors made a collective ‘oohhh’ noise. Things were heating up. Even Skylar watched with interest.

“Oh, okay now we’re getting into it- hold my drink, Ian.” You said, handing your drink to your boyfriend,who drank less out of the whole crowd. Jack also passed his drink to someone.

“Jack, you’ve been on my ass since day one. And you’re just mad that the kids don’t think you’re fun anymore.”

His hazel eyes constricted, “What?”

You shrug coolly.

“You’re out of your mind! They think I’m fun!”

“You’re around those kids waaay too damn much, Jack,” You chuckle, “You got something you’re not telling us?”

“Fuuuck you- FUCK YOU-” He hissed, pointing a gloved finger at you. Skylar pat Ian behind your back and gave him an expectant look. Ian nodded and shook your shoulder lightly, “Baby, that’s a little too far.”

“Yeah, don’t be mean,” Skylar added.

“It’s not my fault he can’t take a little ribbing.” You teased.

The clown rose from his seat, “Oh, I’ll give you ribbing you little-”

A couple of male counselors went to hold him back, but it wasn’t an easy feat. Jack was fucking massive and he almost would’ve gotten to you if not have for the third counselor grappling him from the back of his neck.

Guess he wouldn't be driving anyone home.

—

A massive fucking hangover washed over Jack the day after. He stumbled over his feet as he stepped out of bed. He went to the bathroom and switched on the light. It was a pain on his eyes when he struggled to focus on the mirror. All his makeup was washed off. He was in a regular white tee and his boxers.

He then spotted a blue sticky note on the side of his mirror that read:

Your costume is in the cabinet. Don’t go so hard today, Jack! - SKY

He breathed a laugh. Fuck, he loved her.

When he is dressed in his costume he checks the time and he cringes to see it’s nearly the afternoon. But when he goes outside he’s nearly surprised to see everything is just as it was the day before. Knowing his fellow counselors – knowing Skylar – they had probably just wanted him to rest easy. But it ached to just how easily everyone got along without him…

Everyone had been at their usual stations, guiding the kids, participating in activities… except for you. Your high chair was empty.

Of course.

He walked around to greet everyone and smiled when a few kids from the younger cabins came up to greet him.

“We thought you were gone!” A little girl cried.

“We thought you left us!”

Jack scoffed, “Me? Nooo, I’d never abandon this place. That means I’d leave my kids and we can’t have that right?” Saying this, he ruffled their hair. They laughed, gave him a hug, and went back to their assigned counselors.

Right after, the head counselor, Bill, had come up to greet him. With a smile he slapped him on the back, “Look at you fresh faced and starry eyed! I was worried you were gonna be out of commission for the day.”

Jack shook his head, “Oh no, sir. Not when there’s so much work to be done!”

“That’s nice, well you needn't worry about that for a bit, we’ve got somebody on it.” Bill said.

“...Who?”

He said your name and Jack paled, “She’s got it handled! She doesn’t do much at that chair when she’s on lifeguard duty so Skylar suggested we put ‘er on her feet for a while.”

“That… That’s great, sir.” Jack smiled weakly, something Bill didn’t miss. He puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Now son, I know you kids’ don’t always see eye to eye, but Y/N’s a real swell girl when you get to know her.”

“But why should I?” Jack snapped suddenly, “Why do I need to know her, so she can be nice?!”

“Hey I’m nice!”

The two men looked to the trail near them where you led a line of young teens. Bill pat him on the back before usurping the kids from you and leading them to lunch. You were dressed in a self-made crop top from your original camp shirt and some jean shorts with sneakers. You were somewhat pretty if he looked past your general awfulness. But he didn’t wanna explore you any more than that. Clenching his fists, he started heading in the direction of the cafeteria. But, typical you, you didn’t take the hint and saddled up alongside him.

“Hey.” You said.

“...”

“We should probably hurry up and squash this, the counselors’ are on my ass today. Skylar too.”

“Good.” He remarked bitterly, “I hope they’re on your a- tail- the rest of the summer.”

“Hey, hey- Sunny, hold on!” You step in front of him, blocking his path from the door. He tried to go around you but you kept side stepping him, refusing to let him through. He had half a mind to throw you aside, but he’d have to contain himself. For Bill. The other counselors. Hell, the whole camp. He groaned, steeling himself for whatever drivel you were about to spout.

“Okay so,” You began, “I admit I’m a bitch.”

“No, really?” Jack replied dryly.

“Really. I haven’t been… all that cool to you. Especially last night. But I swear I was only ripping on you a bit, and aside from that alcohol gets me crazy so-”

“This doesn’t sound like an apology.” Jack interrupted.

“Lemme finish, lemme finish!” You urged, “I thought I was only being a bitch in like- a cool way, y’know? And I mean, we’re both adults so… I thought you’d get it?”

Tik tok, Y/N, tik tok.

“I’m sorry,” You said quickly, “okay? I’m so so fucking sorry. And the drinking… It's no excuse because I was being a bitch bitch, not a cool bitch. And I used it as like, more of a booster to my incredible bitchiness so-”

Jack put his hand up, stopping your ridiculous apology, “Alright alright. Apology accepted. Let’s get the hell inside.”

You sidestepped him again, “Wait, no.”

He blinked rapidly before settling his gaze on you with a hard look, “Excuse me?”

“Skylar. She’s been gone awhile, arranging things in the shed.” You said. A flicker of concern flashed across his face.

“Is she alright?” He asked.

“Yeah! She texted me a bit ago. She might need some help though.” You wiggled your brows suggestively.

“...What?”

“Go. Go help her!” Saying that, you shoved his arm opposite to the cafeteria. And for whatever reason he followed your insistent hassling.

He was halfway to the shed, which was right along the forest. He’d gone and fetched things from the shed a number of times but the thought of Skylar being all alone… he didn’t like it. And he couldn’t help but wonder: while your apology was half assed, you seemed to be way more sincere when pushing him in your friends’ direction. Were you trying to …help him with her?

No. No, now that he thought about it, it was more likely you were trying to hook them up.

For some reason that made him snicker.

The thought that counts, I guess.

Soon enough he reaches the supply shed. And for some reason he feels his stomach churn.

He took the opportunity to adjust his hair and jacket, before raising his fist to knock on the door.

“Ian- shit..!”

Jack’s whole body went still. That was…Skylar’s voice. And he was certain of the name she said. Your boyfriends’ name.

He listened further. There was shuffling in the cabin, and creaking. And moaning.

“Yeah..! Right there!”

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, Sky…”

He was sure of it now. That was Ian’s voice. And they were…

Without thinking, he burst into the shed. There was a shriek from the two of them. They stumbled over their feet trying to cover themselves. Ian fumbled with his pants, covering up that flaccid dick of his. Skylar went for her camp counselor shirt. Her shorts and panties were around her ankles. Her black bra pulled over her breasts…

“Wh-What the fuck?!” Skylar shrieked, “Get out of here!”

“Hold on! Hold on,” Ian said, trying to calm her down. Fully dressed, he started to approach the stagnant clown. “You won’t tell Y/N about this, will you-”

Jack struck him across the face. Skylar shrieked as her lover fell to the hard wood and she tried to make a run for it. Before she could reach the door though, he grabbed her by the hair – her beautiful blonde hair – and pulled her back in the shed. No one could hear their screams for miles.

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack x reader #sdj x reader #sunny day jack #sunny day jack x you #sdj x you #swwsdj #sdj jack #sunny day jack fanfiction #swwsdj x reader #summer camp au #camp counselor au #slasher au #the lifeguard #my fics

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heliosthegriffin · 4 months

Text

Shadow Knight and Magic Girls XX

Chapter 20

Ao3 Link

----

Jaune got into the car, pushing his scroll up to the front. "I need to get here." He pointed to an address on his scroll.

Miltiades, seated in the front passenger seat, looked at him miserably. "This is the fifth place this afternoon," She whined. "I'm bored!"

"We have ten more places to hit up before we're done."

Melanie tapped the steering wheel. "Are you going to tell us what you're doing?"

"Nope. Drive." The blonde said, leaning into the back seat, and counting lien out in the back seat.

Melanie felt a flash of annoyance, then sighed, taking off down the road.

They stopped at a local pizzeria place in a decaying neighborhood, Jaune got out went inside, a couple minutes passed by, and then he exited, carrying a couple boxes of hot steaming pizza.

"Alright, now, we go here." He pushed a box into Miltiades lap, while he started devouring a meat-lovers in the back.

"We're not just going on food-runs, are we?" Melanie asked.

"No." He said between bites. "I was coming here anyway, got hungry, and it'd be awkward to be the only one eating."

Melanie reached for a slice, taken extra care to avoid her sisters hissing swipes for daring to take her food. "Alright, where to next?"

They went to several more small business, all in similarly low-income areas, with Jaune repeating his actions, leaving the car, going inside for a couple minutes, then return back, and going to the next locations.

Eventually, they hit all the locations that he had on his list.

"That it?"

"For today, at least."

Miltiades let out a whoop of joy. "Yay! Now, we can do something fun! Ooh, how about the gun-range, or ice-skating?"

Jaune looked at the clock, then shrugged. He could spare an hour. "Sounds fun."

"Awesome!" Miltiades cheered, then tapped her red lips. "By the way, will you at least give us a hint to what you're doing?" She gave him a sly look. "Not paying off baby-mamas, are you?"

Jaune blushed. "No! Nothing of the s-sort. I'm just doing something like, uh, ever heard of putting a chip on every horse in the race?"

Melanie looked at him curiously. "Yeah, but what's that got to do with you?"

Jaune shrugged. "I'm just making a bet,"

"And, if you lose?"

He shrugged. "Oh well, then. Gambles don't always pay off, and I'll have the experience."

Melanie shot him a calculating look through the rear-view mirror, the lien he had stacked back there was gone. Well, not like she could say that Miltia and her had been more responsible with their money. Let him reap what he sows.

------

Where the Wicked Ones went

'Once upon time, there was a great king.

In his kingdom, he did not accept any wickedness, and He chased from his lands the wicked and evil ones with the endless power of the Sun, and those that stood against him and his mighty knights, they were like livestock to the slaughterhouse.

The ones who fled, left this world entirely, fleeing to the Other World.

A place of different time and space, but not separate from our own world. It was not above the world, or under it, but overlapped in places, with stitching vein, and scars covered with stones.

Those who fled into this Other World, they took a different name, different bodies, but their wickedness remained. As they spread across the Other World, they founded many different kingdoms, still practicing their evilness, while fighting meaninglessly and cruel wars between each other.

However, on weird days, under rare stars, they stop fighting and turn to gaze at the World. The World changed, covered with layers of fallen ages and cycles of ever turning light and darkness, and they still yet remember, and most of all, fear that the King of Seasons will find them.

Or, if not him, one with a spirit to succeed him. In their arrogance, though, they are soon to forget that fear. Quickly, they turn their attentions to back to each other, and occasionally, with a bit of foolish pride, venture forth into their former home.

----

Jaune turned the page, the story ended there. He closed the book.

"Are elves, real?" He mused.

"Of course they are!" A voice shouted next to him, making Jaune jump back a step. He turned to look at the short ginger next to him.

"Thanks, Nora. I really needed those minutes off my life."

"You're welcome!" She circled around him, looking at the book. "Why are you reading a cookbook? You know Renny is always going to beat you in a cookoff!"

Jaune rolled his eyes. "Shut up." He didn't needed to be reminded that Ren had magic hands, metaphorically speaking. Hopefully. He didn't want Ren involved in this whole magic business, he had a whole life of him ahead of beating the snot of people in the CKMC* to be risking life and limb.

*(Cross-Kingdom Martial-Arts Circuit)

Or at least, more than he would otherwise, but at least there were rules there.

Nora circled around him. "Wait, is this an elven cookbook?! Are you trying to cook for elves, or trying to cook elves?! If so, you may have a lead on Renny, as I don't think he has the heart to eat elf heart."

Jaune paused, looking at Nora. Despite his downright magical life, she still found a way to say the most downright weird things. Not that he'd have it any other way. "No."

"Oh," She paused. "But, what if-"

Jaune decided to end that train of thought, now. "No." Still, another person, who says something different about the cover. A idea sprang to mind. "Hey, read this off for me." Jaune pointed to a random sentence."

"I can read, no need to test me!" She squinted her eyes on the page. "Two egg, half cup of honey, a cup of milk-, Oh, are you making pancakes?!" Nora vibrated in places. "Never-mind, you're the best cook in the worlds!" She leaned in, whispering. "Don't tell Renny."

Jaune looked at the page. Not the same, what so ever. This was a paragraph detailing how a girl forged a sword from a shooting star and a matching shield too.

This likely meant that the book changed perception of whoever read it. What did that mean? ... Was he even reading anything at all, or was the book just having his mind fill in the blanks that he wanted to see. What in the world was this book? What was its purpose? Why did it do this, was it some kind of mind-eater thing, that fed off attention?

Maybe, he should get rid of it, or at least, copy what he finds out of the book, and cross-references it. So, that if he found something, a story that existed inside the book, one he had no prior knowledge of before he opened the book, he could know that, it at least wasn't making anything up.

He felt a pull on his sleeve, Nora was looking at him excitedly. "So, pancakes?" He looked at the book in his hand, then put it away, it could wait. "Sure, lets go get some pancakes."

She let out a cheer, jumping up and latching onto his back. "Onward, my mighty knight! To pancakes!"

Smiling contently, he started walking. "Ay, my great queen."

-----

Jaune opened the door for the twins into their home, a light sheen of sweat on himself, while behind him, said twins, shambled in like they were on the verge of passing out, heading to the shower.

"Good run, girls." He tried to sound encouraging, as he was taking off his fifty pound vest. Amber looked at the vest, then twins, then back at barely sweating blonde. "Those poor girls, how far did you make them run?"

"Not that far, just a light run, about ten miles or so,"

Amber sighed, she didn't even want to imagine running one mile, let alone at the intense pace he set. She threw a hot towel at him. "Get cleaned up, and I'll work on any knots who might have."

Jaune nodded, closing the door behind him, stripped his shirt off, and wiped off his chest and back. Then laid down on his stomach on a futon next to Amber.

"Been feeling any discomforts recently?" She asked, working on his right arm.

Jaune grunted, feeling a sense warmth go up his arm. "Not really."

"Good, don't be afraid to tell me anything, though. Even if you think it might be personal. Remember, I've already seen it all, you got nothing to be embarrassed about." Amber felt up his arm, it felt heavier, harder to massage, and looked at him surprised. "You gained more muscle?"

"I guess?" Jaune almost shrugged. "I've just-, oh. Yeah, the armor, the extra weight. It's pretty heavy, heavier than anything I wore before, despite how well it's balanced over me."

Amber let out a breath of disbelief. "You were already ready to compete in any inter-national team I can think of, and you're still growing? Thanks just plain unfair."

"Hey, I'll trade places if they want, then we can have a conversation about fairness."

Amber laughed. "Good point, I suppose, hard times breed hard men, and all that."

"Tell me about it, you should meet my grandfather."

The futon bounced a little, as someone sat right in front of his face, a someone with a pair of curvy, athletics legs, wearing a pair of short black shorts. "What's up, superhero?" Vernal asked him with a wink.

"Not a hero, if I'm getting paid for it."

"If so, most legends wouldn't count as heroes."

"Fair, enough."

A beat passed.

"You think about how you want to get inked, yet?" Vernal asked, curiously, looking at his back like a painter looked at a raw canvas.

Jaune had nearly forgotten about that, Big Bear did want him to get the clan symbol on his back. "I just figured I get the clan symbol."

Vernal looked at him harshly. "Don't be half hearted about this, this is a important piece of work that going to happen, and it's going tell the world about you. Think on it hard, this is something to define you to the rest of the world."

Jaune looked at her. "Woah, didn't think you had much about yourself besides ogling me."

Vernal smirked. "I don't just ogle anyone, just the finer pieces of art. Besides, you don't know all of me." She poked his nose. "I have all sorts of tricks that might surprise you."

Looking into her eyes, not to one to back down, Jaune gave her a smile. "You'll have to show me them one day."

There came a moment them looking at each other, with Vernal slightly flushing, looked away. "One day."

Amber sighed. "Please, no flirting while the doctor's at work."

"It's harmless fun, Am!" Vernal shot back. "Besides, you'll get your chance, later." The she looked back at Jaune. "Back to what I was saying, it doesn't matter what Big Bear wants on your back, it's up to you in the end. So, think about what you want the World to see back there."

"I ... I don't know, what it is, that I want back there. It's hard to think about something I can't see."

"Then, don't rush in. Wait, till you can see it." Vernal waved her hand over his back. "Me, though? I can see all the images in the world, and I can pen any of them, you want."

"What do you personally think would look good?"

Vernal sneered for a moment. "It's not about looking good, it's about the message. It can be the ugliest, bat-shit insane tattoo in the world, and still be a work of art on a living canvas, as long as its on the right person." Her arm made phantom motions over his shoulders, and Jaune briefly saw, among her many tattoos, a red-eyed Raven staring at him ominously. "I could ink almost anything here, something heroic, monstrous, or just strong-looking, but, in the end, it's up to you, and what you want it to be. What do you want to be Jaune?"

Jaune looked at the futon beneath him, thinking for a moment. What did he want to say to the world? That was a pretty deep question, or it felt like one. But, he wasn't one for deep thought, and found his answer quickly.

"Hopeful." Jaune said, his answer naturally coming off his tongue. "If I have to show anything to someone else, I just want it to give a bit of hope."

Vernal looked at him, surprised. Then looked at his bare back, her mind turning. "I can work with that," Then she got up, going to her room, the sounds of intense scribbling could be heard inside.

-----

Velvet stood in front of the mirror, anxiously looking over herself for any flaws in her appearance. Her ears twitching over head, hair shaking with it, hadn't even left her room, but felt like her heart was about to give from stress alone.

Looking over herself in the mirror, dare she say it, she looked cute. Wearing a simple brown and white dress that showed off her neck and shoulders, it felt a little daring, at least compared to her conservative normal outfits.

"Ah, look at my little bun-bun! Just the absolute cutest!" Velvet nearly jumped out of her skin at Coco's sudden remark. Turning around so fast that she nearly tripped over herself, she glared at Coco. "Don't scare me, like that!"

Coco shrugged, as she smugly looked at her. "What's a woman to do, not compliment you?" She pulled up her scroll, showing going through the pictures she had taken of her. "So, are you excited for your date?"

Velvet lost her steam, blushing fiercly. "Its not a date, Nora, and her friend, Ren, are coming along to. It's just a friendly outing." Her ears drooped. "He didn't even seem like he wanted to come."

"Vel, my baby-bun, no man, or woman, could say no to you!" Coco slid up against her. "Including me!" She said giving her friend a flirty smile. "Mr. Buff-tough, is just nervous, he's probably never even kissed a girl, so going out with you? It must be mind-blowing to him, and so what, if you have some tag-alongs? Make a polycule out of it, girl! That Ren chick is hot as hell, and Nora? I'd kill to be alone with her."

Velvet relaxed, feeling her heart-slow a bit. "Your way with words never ceases to make feel better. Also, Ren's a guy."

Coco froze, color draining from her face. "What?"

"Yeah, he's a man. With, a-ahem, the bits, according to Nora."

"Oh..." Coco looked at her Scroll. "I have some pictures to get rid of later. Enjoy your date, and if Mr. Moody gives you any trouble, call me, and I'll take care of him, got it?"

Velvet nodded, smiling. "I'll do that." Velvet chuckled, imaging Coco trying to brow-beat Jaune down, amused her. Though, she also couldn't see it working, she was pretty sure that if Coco tried to slap him, any part of him, she'd break her hand.

----

Getting off the bus, Velvet arrived at Vale's Historical Exhibits and Museum. She was surprised by how many people where flowing around the yard of the building, and was equally surprised to see the amount of couples here.

Looking up at the banner on the building, it explained nothing, just relics from Vales past wars when it was a series of squabbling micro-kingdoms. Though, she had to admit, there was a certain energy in the air that made her heartbeat faster, drew her attention towards the Exhibits.

A hand clapped her shoulder, making her jump in place. "Vel-vel!" She felt herself turn around, looking at the short ginger, who was unnaturally strong despite her size.

"Ha-hello, Nora." Velvet stammered out, she hadn't known Nora long, but the short and strong girl had quickly made a place for herself in her heart. Though, she wished she wasn't so forceful!

"Velvet, you're here! That means we can get this party started!"

Velvet nodded, Nora's energy starting to infect her. "Oh, everyone is else is here?"

"Yep! Jaune and Renny are off getting-, oh! There they are walking this way!" Nora pointed away from them, pointing to where the crowd was parting ways from two men walking towards them.

Looking at Jaune exit the crowd of people, or rather, the people rushing to move away from his unstoppable walk towards them, she paused, as something was off about him that took her a moment to figure out. His atmosphere was different, and it clicked.

He was relaxed, today he didn't have any tension about himself like he normally did, he was fully there with them. She gave him a shy smile, and he paused for a moment, before giving a calm smile back at her.

"So, what are we here to see?" Jaune asked, Ren following behind him like a remora fish.

Nora shot up. "I want to see the iron maiden and warhammers!"

The other three of them looked at Nora bouncing with excitement, Velvet didn't doubt for a moment they were going to see those exhibits.

"Sounds good." Jaune said, Velvet barely catching the concealed glee in his eyes.

"Don't try and touch them, they're artifacts and we're not here to get banned." Ren said strictly, though, Velvet noticed that he wasn't saying that just to Nora, as he made sure to give a look at Jaune. There was touch of humor in his voice, though.

"That sounds, great." Velvet found herself agree, she didn't have much interest in torture devices or weapons, but if she was with these three, she would be happy.

"So, we ready to go then?" Jaune asked.

"Yep!"

"As we ever can be."

"Yes."

Velvet felt a push on her shoulder, and looked back to she the ginger culprit, as she landed against Jaune, who caught her easily.

"Jaune-jaune, make sure you don't lose that, she's precious cargo!" Nora said firmly.

Jaune looked confused, then looked at the sea of people around them. "Oh, good idea." Holding out his arm to her. "Don't want to get separated."

Velvet looked at his out-stretch arm, noticing how his many-times thicker his arm was than hers, it almost made her feel like a child by comparison. As she linked her arm into his though, it made her feel secure too, that Jaune would protect.

In that sense of security, Velvet dared to pull herself closer.

----

Deep, deep into the mountains, away from the vices of civilization, in the bosom of mother nature. Where the fat of the land was thickest, and beasts that would rightly be called monsters roamed, a man with a glorious mustache led his disciples into the mouth of a dark, ominous cave.

He swung his axe down in front of the cave, spraying the blood of beasts off of his blade. Peter Port turned to regard his young students with admiration. When he first met them, they were unpolished, and aimless children, with nary a hope of a future worth living. But now? Now, they did not need to hope for a future, they could make their own!

They stood before him, bare chested and raw-muscles, covered in mud and filth from the world over, scratched, bruised, and likely had some broken bones that needed treated, but unbowed and unafraid.

Their leader Cardin had taken to wield the femur of a oxen creature they had fought, while Russel had made a pair of primitive stone axes during their camping adventures, Sky had his warpaint on and crude rucksack of javelins and his onyx-head spear, and Dove? He had a sling, which was good enough.

It was almost enough to make him shed a tear. Sucking in a deep breath, he bellowed out with enough power to rival a landslide. "Student!"

"Teacher!" They returned back, while not having the same power as their teacher, they equaled, no surpassed his energy.

It was time, Peter knew, they were ready. "My children, our final lesson is upon us! Soon, you will be men among men!|

They looked shocked at this news.

"But, Teacher!" Cardin interjected. "We've only just begun to learn! How can we be done?"

Peter sniffled a bit. "That, that is how you know, my child, that you know that you've only just begun to learn, that is the sign you've matured. That you understand that to be a man is to know there is always more to see, more to know, and more room to grow. So, that is why, it's time for you leave the nest and fly!"

They bravely held back tears. Manly tears. "Thank you, teacher. We won't forget our lessons." Sky spoke through his tears.

"You will be alright, my students. You are ready for your final test!" He swung his ax at the cave. "Be wary, though! This cave houses dangers you can't even imagine, but what you encounter inside, will change you forever, it will be your cocoon, one for your boyish state, to enters only to emerge as a man! Now go!"

With another sweep of his ax, he signal for them to run in. With a nod between the four young boys, no, the soon to be young men ran into their final trials of adolescences.

----

Humming to himself, a red-head man sauntered without a care around the back of the museum. A outfit and set of keys that weren't his adorning his person. He opened the backdoor and entered the storage rooms of the place.

Immediately his senses lit up, the feel of magic in the air, and not just from relics either. The ley-lines were practically clogged with power and that was great news! It'd make his goal all the more easy tonight!

Oh how excited he was, so very excited, and there was no-way he was going to be stopped. Not by those Maidens, and not by any questing heroes. Tonight was a new moon, that meant no locks on his power, and whole ley-line to use, oh, how rich was he going to be?

A door opened across the room, and elderly man exited, a janitor. The old man nodded at him, then peered at him curiously. "Are you a new hire? I know most everyone around here, and I don't recall seeing you before?" His voice was raspy, but friendly.

"I'm just a temporary-worker, no need to remember me."

"Oh, that's a shame, its a good place to work here. Maybe, you'll change your mind, once you get the feel of the place?"

The red-head paused, humming to him deviously. "You know what, I think by the end of my shift, they'll always be a piece of the place with me."

The old man smiled kindly. "That's good, sonny. Ah, I didn't catch your name?"

Tapping his head in mock-embarrassment. "Oh, how could I forget to introduce meself? I am the one, the only, Roman Torchwick." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bone-chilling mask. "Hey, how do feel about presents, Mr...?"

"... Alans." The janitor said a second. He looked at the young man with concern, unnerved by his presence now. "What, what do you got there sonny, that don't seem right?" The bone-mask was strange to his eyes, and didn't seem to be capable of being made by any person.

Roman approached, Sam took a step back in fear, but in a flash of movement, he grabbed Sam's collar and forcefully put the mask on the old man. Sam's body contorted in pain, as if he wanted to have screamed, but couldn't, as the mask meld into his flesh. The old mans kind, bright eyes going dull and cloudy.

"Hmm, that was easy." He patted his newest servants head. "Good work, keep it up!" Then sauntered out, twirling another mask in hand.

----

Omake: Another build - Horse Arc(h)er

Jaune crept into his secret-shack, where he built and managed his gear, bruised and tired after another night of fighting shadow-monsters. He was so tired of this, they just seemed to keep getting stronger, and he stayed the same. He needed a equalizer for this mess, as it was only a matter of time before he got offed, either by luck on the monster side, or unluck on his.

Looking across his limited arsenal, he got to thinking. He looked over his plans and blueprints, but he had already tried them, or just too expensive or plainly impossible for him. He sighed, forehead against table.

In his childhood, Jaune liked to play knights with his sisters, even if it was him playing the princess in distress. It still was something he admired, the man with the sword, in the shining armor, on a noble and beautiful steed.

It was a shame though, that he couldn't get a suit of heavy-metal armor, or a sword that could cut shadow-monsters to pieces. A suit of armor would just give away his best defense against them anyway, not getting hit at all. Plus, he had done some research, and metal armor was good for turning away a blade, but actually made blunt hits worse, and the shadow-monsters were more than strong enough to tear apart cars, dumpsters, and metal railings, it wasn't really worth the effort.

His luck getting close was dice as well, as all it would take is one good hit to be dead and done with. Where as Jaune knew he would need to put sustained force on the bigger ones, while rolling the dice to dodge their strikes, not that he couldn't do it, but the thing is, chance adds up and eventually, he'd critically fail.

Still, a horse? That sounded nice, there wasn't a night that he didn't feel dead on his feet afterwards, so even just to lower his recovery time, well, that almost sounded worth it.

But, would that even work with hit and run still of fighting? The guns, well all he had was the shotgun, and didn't horses need to be trained to not get startled from shots? That didn't even bring up how he'd train one against getting frightened from the monsters.

Walking out of the shed, he needed some fresh air to think. Unconsciously, he ended up walking home. Stopping in the backyard, he saw his father, bow in hand and aiming at target. Jaune stood there for a moment, just watching gears turning.

His father let loose arrow after arrow in a stream of projectiles, it wasn't hard for Jaune to understand why his father was a former pro archer. All the arrows hit, tightly clustered around the center. Jaune felt a phantom feeling in his shoulder, rushing down his arms.

His father turned around, nearly jumping. "Son? What are you-, uh, why aren't you in bed?"

Jaune looked at the bow in his dads hands. "Can I, try shooting that?"

All confusion dropped from his fathers face, lighting up in joy. "WIthout question."

---

Across the dark streets of Vale, there came a sound, a sound that was forgotten to all, but the streets themselves. If there were thoughts in the cobblestone and concrete, this was a sound that would bringing them back a century, to when horses ran the streets. When carriages were pulled down the street, when horses carried passengers and messages, it was a sound of a different time.

It was the sound of hooves and horseshoes hitting stone, clamoring of nimble hooves hitting and pacing, as it raced down the streets. Ceaseless neighing, panting snorts and breaths, it was the sound of a large, powerful steed. No, not just one steed, but several. A rider changing steed regularly, ones he had stored across the city, as one became too tired from battle and the endless pace set by their rider.

Then it was followed, by another archaic sound, that of the endless stringing of a bow. All through out the night, outside on the streets was a shadowy rider, swaying over the back of a horse, never falling as he was aiming a mighty bow, firing tens of arrows every minute at some unseen quarry. Never seeming to run out of arrows, as on each horse were quivers of arrows lining the sides of the animals.

Beasts would pursue them, out from the shadows, the alleys, and forgotten corners of the city, only to pelted with a endless stream of arrows. Falling to the ground, finished off by being trampled by other monsters, or a horde of arrows ending them.

There was a new rider in town, and he was here to hunt the night away.

#jaune arc #shadow knight

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