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studioghibelli · 4 months

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bewitched, bothered, bewildered.

a joel miller x reader

summary: after your parents leave on a cruise for winter break, your best friend sarah invites you over to her house for the holidays. she failed to mention her father is the hottest man in the world.

warnings: best friends dad!joel, slight canon divergence as in Sarah is college aged come 2023, a big phat girthed up age gap, alcohol consumption, reader has just gotten out of a relationship, various media references, smut (fingering, female masturbation, f receiving oral, dirty talk, pet names, tiniest sir kink.) mdni!

note: this could be a series. i’m not too sure right now. let me know if you’d be interested in this as multiple parts!

You had never been to Texas before.

Tales of obnoxiously large barbecues, ten gallon hats, and vast, desert plains where rattlesnakes roamed freely filled your mind. Sticky sweet iced tea, kind old women who called everyone “honey”, and dry, arid heat were also things you associated with Texas.

And, sure, Texas was hot and humid as hell.

But it was beautiful.

While the plane made its final descent down to the Austin airport, your eyes took in the most beautiful sunset you had ever gazed upon, never before seeing oranges and reds quite as beautiful. By the time you deplaned, the deep navy of the night sky showcased millions of glimmering stars. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw so many stars. It must have been ages, but nonetheless they had ignited you with a sense of wonder.

“It’s about an hour, to my place.” Sarah warned, standing by your side as you both waited to catch sight of your luggage.

You nodded a bit, patiently looking to see your dark teal suitcase pass through the conveyor belt.

“Hey,” she nudged you in the side, causing you to glance her way. “Are you still thinking about your ex? Not good for you, so you better stop.”

“What if we were soulmates?” You grumbled, knowing how stupid you sounded. Your shoulders slumped forward. You didn’t actually think that idiot was the person you would spend the rest of your life with, but it was nice to have someone. To have… your person.

“If you two were soulmates, you wouldn’t have been broken up with. Now would you?” Sarah smiled sadly, gently patting your head. “Winter break is a month long. Who knows? Someone here might catch your eye!”

You rolled said eyes at her wiggling brows, grumbling beneath your breath. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe.”

“My dad has loads of hot guys working for him. They stop by the house sometimes, maybe you could…. I don’t know- waltz downstairs wearing a tight shirt and stick your ass out.” She wiggled her butt against you with a faux-seductive dance move.

“Sarah!” You laughed, gently pushing her shoulder.

“Dad says he should be here in about 5 minutes. Oh! There’s our bags.”

You grabbed your luggage in unison, lugging them off the machine before rolling through the crowds of people, no doubt travelling to and fro for the holidays.

“Look for a black Chevy!” She warned as you walked outside.

“I don’t know what that looks like!” You shouted earnestly, over the hustle and bustle of the pick up area.

Sarah looked at you, before rolling her eyes with a laugh. “There he is!” She waved both her hands towards a truck in the distance. You watched as it pulled to the curb, windows tinted black. When the driver door opened you heard Hank Williams crooning from the stereo, still unable to see the figure that was Sarah’s dad.

The shadow on the sidewalk was broad as it made its way towards the two of you, and when you finally dragged your eyes up, you saw Joel Miller in all his glory.

Tall, rugged, a little rough around the edges- but undeniably handsome. He wore a regular tan crew neck underneath a brown flannel, jeans spread out tight against his thick thighs, with the pointed toes of two leather boots sticking out. His dark hair, littered with strands of drool worthy gray, was slicked back from a fresh shower, one stray curl managing to sneak its way out.

And when he stepped closer, you smelled him. God, you smelled him. He wore just the right amount of cologne, and it made your knees weak. Joel smelled like woody vanilla, swirling with cracks of cardamom and whiffs of lavender tinted flowers of iris. You almost moaned. He smelled delicious.

Joel greeted Sarah, but quite honestly you were too overwhelmed to hear anything they were saying. And then he turned to you.

You.

“Hello.” He smiled a bit, eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite pin point. “I’m Joel. It’s real nice to have you stayin’ with us.”

You smiled. A real smile. He was kind, too? What a fucking dream. “Thank you.” After telling him your name you went to pick up your luggage, before a hand grabbed your arm gently.

His hand. Well worked, rough, calloused- an honest pair of hands that were scarred by a lifetime of hard work. Honorable hands. Sexy hands.

“There ain’t no way I’m lettin’ a pretty thing like you lift that suitcase all by herself. You’re in Texas now, honey. Don’t you know we practically invented gentlemen down here?” He joked, grabbing your bag and tenderly sitting it down in the bed of his Chevy.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I guess I’ll just let you do everything for me, since you’re a gentleman and such.” You teased. You watched the hint of a smile ghost across his lips.

“Well, you might just have to, darlin’.” With a wink that made your belly tighten, he opened the door for you, and you joined Sarah in the backseat.

“Dad, what the hell are you listening to?”

“Hank Williams.” You both said in unison. He put his eyes on you from the mirror, winking at you.

“Bring this one around more, Sarah. I like her.”

Sarah smiled, looking at you with love sparkling in her eyes. The kind of love that only existed between two bonded women, the kind of love that only two girls in a deep, genuine friendship could share. You smiled, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Dad, you know she just got dumped.”

“Sarah!” You guffawed. And that special moment was over. Tenderness now replaced with annoyance.

“Who got broken up with?”

Sarah nudged her head towards you.

“Her?!” He spoke incredulously. As if Joel could not wrap his head around the idea of someone ever leaving you.

You buried your hot face in your hands, mumbling a bit. “Was a fucking jerk.” You grumbled after a long moment of silence, pulling away from your palms to look out the window, watching the city pass by.

“Must have been, breakin’ your heart.”

“Dad, you have no clue. So it all started-” As Sarah started explaining your past relationship and breakup, you watched the backdrop of Austin rush past your window.

Beautiful buildings shimmering in the night, the distant noise of the city clamoring, vibrant grass and trees scattered about. It was stunning, alive, noisy. It was nothing like what people had described Texas as. And the only person who had called you ‘honey’ so far, was your best friend’s hot dad.

You pulled away from where you looked, coming back in to reality. Sarah was still going on and on with her drama spilling. Joel was still listening, or at least looked like he was listening. His plush lips were cemented into a tight line, eyes dark and focused on the highway ahead. He met your gaze in his rearview mirror once again, and the tightness of his furrowed brow softened momentarily. You offered him a hint of a smile, and he gladly took it.

“So, what’re you majoring in?” He asks you. You didn’t quite catch his question. You were examining how his hands looked around the steering wheel as he turned it, the way the pad of his thumb caressed the leather, the way his thighs looked spread out against the brown of the sleek seat. God. Was it normal to wish you were a fucking steering wheel?

You clenched your thighs together. You wondered if he noticed. He seemed rather perceptive.

“I’m sorry sir, what did you ask, Mr. Miller?”

Joel swallowed thickly, sucking in a sharp breath. “Joel, please. Call me Joel. I asked what you’re studyin’, back at school.”

Sarah laughed a bit, not looking up from her phone. “What isn’t she studying?”

You grinned a toothy grin at the comment. “It’s true. I’ve changed my major loads of times. I started with French, then anthropology. Now I’m stuck between film and history. There are a lot of things I love learning about. I just…. want to see the world, experience it all.” You explained softly, looking out the window as you thought. “It’s kind of hard to focus on one thing when your heart is all over the place. Y’know?”

Joel nodded a bit, clearing his throat. “You sound way smarter than me. Been contractin’ my whole life. Nothin’ special like French or history.” You giggled to yourself at the way he pronounced ‘French’, his Texan accent thick on the syllables.

“Contracting is honest work. Takes a big, strong man, you know? It can’t be easy. I admire that.” You hummed. Your eyes met once again. Joel’s tongue flicked across his lower lip, nostrils slightly flared.

Sarah was none the wiser, scrolling through her phone. You hummed a bit, settling in to your seat. By the time you looked at Sarah, she was passed out, fast asleep.

“So,” Joel began, turning on to a dirt road. You saw a few cows in the pasture fast asleep, the moon hanging above them. It looked like something from a storybook. “You heartbroken’ over this break up?”

You thought for a moment. “I don’t…. really know. It’s just weird…. it’s- it’s like I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. Like, yeah, I was cheated on, then dumped. But we did everything together. Went out, grabbed dinner, saw movies. I just don’t know what to fill that up with. I do all those things with Sarah, obviously, but it’ll still be weird. I don’t know. I’m rambling.” You huffed out a breath of air you had been holding, shrugging a bit. “Probably sounds stupid.”

“It ain’t stupid.” Joel reassured softly, his deep voice rumbled like a song through your ears, filling your mind with symphonies and day dreams. Day dreams of feeling his mouth on your own, hearing that voice from behind your back while he took you- wait, what? No! He was Sarah’s dad! You shook the thoughts away. “Don’t uh….” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t feel bad for feelin’ any sort of way. Alright?”

As he pulled into the driveway of his home, you nodded slowly. “I’ll try not to.”

“Do or do not, there is no try.”

You laughed. “Star Wars! I love Star Wars.” You cooed, rubbing a hand down your cheek in an attempt to stifle your giggles.

“Sarah would never watch it with me. Been beggin’ her for years.” Joel admitted through a cracked grin.

“Well, I’ll watch it with you.”

Joel shot you that glance once more. “I’d like that.”

Was it a date? No. Surely not? Stop getting ahead of yourself! You took in a deep, shaky breath, gulping down a thick lump that had been forming. No. Calm down. There was no way.

Sarah woke up with a yawn, smiling when she realized the truck had finally pulled in to the driveway.

Joel helped you all unload your things, showing you to the guest room. “Feel free to help yourself to anything. Fridge, drinks. In the garage we got beers and some of them fruity mixers that Sarah likes. Our home is your home.” He explained, extending that Southern hospitality that you had heard so much about.

You felt your body warming up. “Thank you.”

“And, uh….” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost nervously. “I’ll be downstairs in the livin’ room watchin’ some movies, if you want to join me.”

WHAT?!

“Okay. Sure. I’d like that.” You said calmly, stiffly, and definitely not using a oh-my-god-did-he-really-say-that tone of voice. Nope. Not you. Not at all.

“Don’t feel pressured or nothin’. Just a thought.”

Before you could respond, Joel had walked through the hall and down the stairs. You threw on your pajamas, a simple pair of fleece bottoms and a tank top, rolling the thought over in your head. It would be nice, to sit next to him, hear his laugh, cast glances at his side profile. But you weren’t too sure if you could be trusted. Just out of a relationship, full of emotion, irrevocably attracted to this man….. No. No. It wasn’t a good idea. What if you did something you regretted?

So you climbed in to bed, shutting your eyes tight.

And then thirty minutes passed, and your eyes were wide open.

And then an hour passed, and your eyes were still wide opened.

What-fucking-ever.

You threw the covers off with a huff and walked out of your room, quiet as not to wake Sarah. She had had a rough finals week, and you knew she needed a good night’s rest. You on the other hand? Your body was aflame, every nerve lit up like a Christmas tree by Joel’s charming laugh, perfect hands, stern face. God. Why was he so attractive? So alluring? You buried your face in your hands as you shuffled down the hallway.

You were really doing this.

You reached the couch, and saw Joel watching the television, strong arm thrown across the back of it.

“Uhm, Mr- Uh, Joel?”

He turned to look at you, and you noticed a smirk tease the corner of his lips. “Well, hello darlin’. Started to think you weren’t goin’ to take me up on my offer.” Joel patted the empty space beside him. The couch was small, meant for two people.

You weren’t complaining.

“Yeah, well.” You let out a nervous giggle, sitting down beside him. “Couldn’t sleep, so.”

“Oh. So you’re tellin’ me I’m your rebound?” He joked.

“Yeah. Sorry… I’m real desperate these days.” You teased back, holding an embroidered pillow to your chest.

Joel chuckled a deep, beautiful, throaty chuckle, his arm not moving from the back of the couch, brushing every so often against your shoulder blades. “Do you want a drink?” He asked, turning to look at you.

“Sure.” You smiled softly at him, eyes lingering for a few beats to long. He shook his head a bit, as though he were thinking something he really shouldn’t be thinking, before looking away. A moment of awkward silence fell between you two.

Without missing a beat, he slapped his hands on his knees through a deep sigh, getting up and walking to the garage. When he came back, he had a six pack of beer in one hand, and a box of pre-mixed Strawberry Daiquiris in the other.

“Didn’t know which one to grab for you. A bit of everythin’, I suppose.” He sat the cartons in front of you, and you opted for the Daiquiri.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels. “Anythin’ sound good?”

You hummed out in thought, eyeing all the movies. “Oh! Stepbrothers! That’s a good one.”

He looked at you. “Really?” He teased dryly.

“Sarah and I quote it all the time.”

Joel nodded for a moment, before turning to you, a serious look on his face. “Did you… touch my drum set?”

A long bout of silence passed, before you took in a deep breath and looked up at him. “No.”

He furrowed his eyebrows together, clicking his tongue. “It’s just weird, cause it seems like someone definitely touched my drum set.”

“Yeah, that is weird, cause I didn’t touch them.”

You stared at each other intensely, both feigning fake anger, before you broke out into giggles. He shook his head with a chuckle.

“So, Stepbrothers then-”

“Oh!” You cut him off excitedly. “Look! The Empire Strikes Back!”

He hummed in agreement, clicking it on. You both got settled in, your shoulder touching his side, his arm thrown behind your back again. Comfortable silence blanketed the room, and you took in the scene around you.

A small living room, a flat screen propped on a wooden console that looked handmade, a nice rug spread out over the hardwood floors. There were some car magazines on the table, a pair of work boots sitting in the corner. It smelled like him, and his electrifying cologne. It felt like him, too. Masculine, woody, comfortable. It was incredible.

You had finished the box of drinks before the end of the movie, and by the time Han Solo was frozen solid in his fancy little fridge, you were crying your eyes out.

Not because of the movie.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Joel’s eyes slightly widened as he turned to you. “Hey, honey, what’s the matter?”

You sniffled, face planting in to his chest. You were tipsy, the newest recipient of a so called broken heart, and he was warm. So, so warm. Without missing a beat, Joel’s arms wrapped around you, his grip tight and secure. You had never felt more protected, more wanted, more cared for.

“Shh, it’s okay.” His long fingers ran through your hair, gentle and soothing. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m such an idiot.” You grumbled into his husky chest, no doubt leaving a stain of tears. “I should have seen it coming. Everyone warned me about… about… even Sarah knew. But I didn’t listen. And now I’m here, crying to my best friend’s dad who is way too hot for his own good, full of all these feelings, and-and-….. oh, fuck.” You realized what had spilled from your mouth, pulling away sheepishly and stuffing the pillow in your face.

Joel sat for a moment, wordlessly, slowly looking at you. He gently pushed the pillow away before his index and thumb grabbed your chin, demanding and gentle, tilting your gaze to meet his own. “Too hot for my own good, huh?”

Your face heated up with embarrassment. You wanted to recoil away, maybe throw up a little. You wanted to climb beneath the couch and die there. Anything but own up to your words.

“It’s okay. Think you’re the first of Sarah’s friends to get a little crush on me?” He joked softly, gently rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

A pinch of jealousy surged through you. It wasn’t making you feel any better. You sniffled loudly, your eyelashes fluttering.

“I will say, you are the first of Sarah’s friends I’ve…. well, you’re beautiful. And smart. And, you know.” Joel paused, clearing his mind. He was usually much better with his words. “Look, darlin’. I like you, a lot. And I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anythin’, but I can help with that broken heart of yours.”

A gulp of air caught in your chest. With shaking hands, you gently grabbed his own, pulling him closer to you. A deep breath, and then: “Please. Help me forget.”

Joel chuckled, his palm dragging down the side of your body. “I can do that.”

His lips met yours. Hungry, passionate, deep. Joel kissed you like he’d never kiss again, and you happily let him, lips parting, heart mending. He pushed you down onto the soft couch with his weight hovering above your own, fingers tangling into your hair. He wanted you. All of you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly, hand moving down to your pajama pants.

“Please.” It came out choked, a plea, a prayer.

He pushed your pants down, allowing you to kick them off, before his palm found your core. Hot, soaked, weeping for him. He groaned, gently rubbing your swollen clit from behind the material of your underwear.

“God damn, girl.” He smirked, eyes darkening. “This all for me?”

You nodded meekly, the inside of your cheek caught between your molars. “Touch me.” You begged.

“Here?” He whispered, his thumb dragging across your soaked slit, over the cotton material.

“Anywhere. Just, please- make me cum.”

“Oh, I’ll make you cum alright, girl. But you’re going to have to stay quiet for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

He pushed your legs back, slipping between them as he lowered himself, now face to face with your pussy. Joel slipped your underwear to the side, his tongue sweeping across his lower lip, before leaning forward and taking your clit in his mouth. You shuddered at the contact, groaning softly.

“I think,” he whispered quietly, your ears straining to hear him, “I want you to rub this pretty clit while I finger fuck your pussy.”

You groaned softly, eyes blown wide and dark, as you slowly sat yourself up on your elbows. “Ye-yes sir.” It just slipped out. You were too horny to care.

A guttural hiss seeped through his teeth. “I like that.” He warned deeply. “Go on, rub it for me.”

You lowered your shaking hand, the tip of your index slowly tracing up the length of your clit. It was screaming, begging, throbbing for any semblance of pleasure.

Joel’s eyes were on you.

He was inspecting your every movement like a panther stalking its prey, eyes full of lust, tongue dripping with desire.

You took in a sharp breath before rubbing your bud between your index and middle finger, a soft breath leaving you.

“Good girl. Good girl.” He praised, middle finger sinking in to your tight cunt. Joel sighed out a string of curses. “You’re fuckin’ tight, baby. That little pussy is drippin’ for me.”

“For you.” You whispered.

He looked up at you as he kissed your thigh, biting down on the soft, supple flesh. “You’re fuckin’ delicious.”

You threw your head back at his words, hips bucking. You felt your orgasm growing nearer, stomach tensing. Joel pushed your hand away, and you jerked your head to look at him, so quick it almost gave you whiplash.

“Sorry, I just can’t help myself.” He leaned forward, sucking at your clit again, his tongue swirling and flattening against it. Joel knew what he was doing.

As his finger still hit inside of you, you brought your hands down to his hair, tugging at his curls, the once slicked style now rampant and messy. You tried to stop yourself from moaning too loud, fearful of waking Sarah, but how could you not?

Joel fucking Miller, the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on, was worshipping your pussy. You shivered, thighs clenching.

He was worshipping your pussy.

His hot tongue felt like Heaven against you, and Joel was eating you like a starved man, like your cunt was the nectar of the gods. He did what your ex had never done before- he made you feel wanted, made you feel desired.

Joel moaned into your pink flesh, sucking and licking, nibbling and swirling, until your stomach grew tight with a looming climax.

God, he was good at this.

“Gonna cum. G-gonna cum, Jo- oh, oh. Oh.” You hummed out in relief as your orgasm washed over you, eyes widening as he continued licking, sucking, finger fucking- he didn’t care that you were getting sensitive. All he cared about was you. Your sweet pussy, delicious cum, soft folds- he wanted all of it.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He whispered, bringing himself away from your core. “Sweet little thing, ain’t ya?”

Your cheeks heated, and you slowly sat up, legs still shaking. “Jesus Christ.”

Joel chuckled, reaching towards you as he fixed a few strands of messy hair. “Yeah, Jesus Christ.”

You stared at one another for a moment before he tackled you with a deep kiss, hungry and crazed. You wasted no time kissing back, feeling the outline of his cock on your bare thigh. You gasped for air at the touch, already knowing he was big, thick, perfect.

Your hand was moving towards his shirt before the hallway light switched on.

“Fuck. Here.” He tossed you your pants and you quickly slipped them on, resuming your positions on the couch as normally as possible.

As Sarah walked down the stairs, your chest tightened with a sudden realization.

This was going to be a great winter break… if you made it out in one piece, that is.

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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Okay, okay, part 2 of the angst. A little fluff amongst the angst.

(No content warnings)

You let yourself cry only once. Tucked up in the back of the transport plane, just you and your duffel. If Nikolai notices, he politely ignores it.

After the 141, it takes you a long time to invest in your new SpecGru team. You do your job, of course. Work hard — harder than you ever have in your life. Use all the skills you learned… learned before. Seem to make a good impression.

Your new captain is gruffer than Price right off the bat, but he’s fair. Tells you what needs improvement, but is honest about what he’s impressed with.

The rest of the team is… fine.

Just fine, you tell yourself. Keep it professional; keep it distant.

Even when Keegan goes out of his way to bring you snacks and remind you to hydrate. Even when Nova helps you with a bad jam on your gun. Even when Nikto of all people sits next to you in the gym. Not touching, not even speaking. Just there.

They respect your distance. Respect your baggage. Don’t give you shit when you decline invitations to go out. You wait for your new captain to say it’s not working out. To tell you that you’re not a good fit, he’s concerned about your teamwork with the rest of the squad.

The ice only starts to thaw when you fuck up again. When you nearly die. You wake up to the entire squad in your hospital room; even Nikto is there, leaned up against the wall across from your bed.

Your captain gives you a couple harsh words for stupid sacrifices, but he chucks you under the chin when he’s done. Keegan presses a kiss to your forehead just as the pain meds are kicking in and you’re too loopy to do more than ask him if he even likes you.

The answer, apparently, is yes.

He likes you quite a bit. So much, in fact, that you start letting him into your room when he knocks. Tell him about the 141. Start joining him for training and seeking him out for tips on the sniper. You like him, dammit.

Then Nikto starts joining you two. Shocks both you and Keegan; he’s not close with anyone. If you’ve got a suitcase worth of baggage, Nikto has a bloody moving truck. You can count on two hands the number of words he’s said, with fingers left over.

Yet he’s become your new shadow. Reminds you of… a certain someone, in a lot of ways. Except Nikto pulls a knife on someone for making a gross comment about you. And starts teaching you how to throw knives and jumpstart just about everything. Seeks you out — constantly, it seems.

So now you’ve got Keegan and Nikto, flanking you almost constantly. And then you have Nova, teaching you hacking skills and makeshift bombs, her thigh pressed to yours. And your captain, patting you on the ass after a job well done.

You agree to go out with them for the first time. End up with Nova in your laps for an hour. Then find yourself in Keegan’s for another. Have Nikto’s hand on the small of your back on the way out of the bar, and your captain’s hand on your thigh during the drive back.

“Fuck you,” you nearly sob, bouncing on Keegan’s cock that night.

“That’s — fuck, baby, ngh — that’s the idea?”

You nip at his jaw and grind down, squeezing your eyes shut. His hands are firm but reverent on your hips, thumbs stroking old scars, guiding you just right when you start shaking.

“Fuck you for making me care,” you sniffle, squeezing down, delighted in the noise he makes. “Goddammit.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he coos in your ear. “It’s alright. I love you too.”

And fuck if that doesn’t make you cum right then.

As you’re panting in the afterglow, you feel a rough kiss against your neck. Freeze as you see a gloved hand covering Keegan’s eyes.

“Love,” Nikto whispers in your ear. Your eyes sting, a sob caught up in your throat.

“Okay,” you whimper. “O-okay.”

Three months later, Laswell calls your captain for a joint mission. With the 141.

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #angst #sad fic #specgru reader #former 141 reader

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wandasaura · 2 months

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END UP DREAMING INSTEAD OF SLEEPING

summary — you can’t hate her with your eyes closed, so falling asleep against her chest definitely can’t be held against you… right?

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, domestic fluff w/ the cutest lawyer!wives and their bratty baby. this entire thing is just straight fluff, you horndogs need a timeout

authors note — here’s a little blurb for you, it was originally requested on ao3 !! it’s not much, just some wholesome fluff with our favorite ‘enemies’

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff

Natasha was properly exhausted, and the redness in her eyes spoke to that fact. Her sluggish footsteps carried her toward the front door at a snail's pace, and dragging her suitcase up the driveway had never felt like such a difficult task. Beneath the blanket of nightfall, the lawyer questioned if potential theft was worth leaving the luggage abandoned beside Wanda’s car in favor of walking into the house empty-handed, but had persisted with her motions when she decided she’d rather not have to go through the process of ordering yet another set of suitcases. Nobody would ever know how she came to have such misfortune with checking bags at the airport, but the running list of lost luggage was long and quite funny to people who weren’t her.

Being away for two weeks had felt like torture, and she was more then glad to be back in the space she created with her wife. Seeing your car in the driveway parked behind hers had been an additional bonus. Wanda had relayed very minimal information regarding the events that had led to you spending your nights and days off in Westview, which meant that whatever happened would certainly piss her off, but despite the knowledge of something upsetting you while she was away, it was comforting to know that both of her girls were waiting for her return in the same space.

Natasha struggled to find her keys when she finally made it to the front door, and with greuling efforts she had only barely managed to get the lock to turn on her first try when she’d finally located her keyring in the second smallest pocket of her crossbody bag. The entryway was dark, much like the rest of the house, but the softest glow of light came from a lamp in the living room that hadn’t been turned off. Wanda was meticulous about turning everything off before she went to bed, and if she ever had the slightest inquisition about having forgotten, she made rounds through the house to assure nothing had been overseen on her first pass. Leaving the suitcase beside the door, Natasha followed the kiss of light that projected shadows against the wall.

Even though the light was dim, one they used sparingly when a good book captured their attention and the length of sunlight was minimal, the silhouettes of two bodies were easily identifiable. Wanda sat curled up against the arm of the couch, her legs folded beneath her body with her chin propped up against the palm of her hand. You were burrowed into her side, your face pressed into her neck and hiding from the peaks of light that tried to stir you awake. Natasha felt her heart skip at the sight of you so content with one another, knowing that something must have gone right to lead to this tender moment.

“Natalia?” Wanda shifted at the echo of footsteps that hadn’t lingered through the house in fourteen days, her lips pulling into a sleep-riddled grin when she made out the distinct appearance of her wife dressed in comfortable black loungewear.

Natasha laughed softly at the expression on her wifes face, stepping close enough to lay a kiss against the crown of her head. “Privet dorogaya.”

“She wanted to wait for you. Poor thing was out within the first twenty minutes.” Wanda looked down at you, smiling at the easy way about your features when they weren’t riddled with stress and sadness. Classes had taken their toll on you, but as you fell into a dream that Wanda could only hope was good, there was an undeniable youth to your features. “I missed you.” She pulled Natasha down to her lips, humming in bliss when the recently returned lawyer returned the embrace.

“Missed you too. I almost killed Tony on the third day.” Natasha deflated against Wanda, and the Sokovian only laughed softly, knowing that fact was more than accurate. It was honestly surprising he hadn’t done something to tick off the Russian earlier. “I’m gonna take a shower. Meet me in bed?”

“I’ll be waiting, Mrs. Maximoff.” Wanda winked, watching Natasha retreat up the stairs, and minutes later the telltale sound of the shower running filled the house that had existed in near complete silence since the day she left. Wanda didn’t move from the couch, wanting to spend a few more minutes with you at her side before the peace was interrupted. When you stirred, trying to find a more comfortable position and ultimately failing, you groaned in annoyance. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“No. Goodnight.” You pressed your face into Wanda’s neck, covering the side of your face with your palm as even the close contact couldn’t completely coat you in craved for darkness.

Wanda laughed at your attempt to find sleep, but she didn’t allow you to succeed. She sat up straight, subsequently causing your body to twist at an awkward angle that would only be soothed if you shifted position too. You sighed, rubbing sleep from your eyes, deciding that it wasn’t going to be coming over you again for at least another handful of minutes.

“Is Natty home?” You perked up, hearing the shower running upstairs.

Wanda smirked at your delayed realization, nodding her head in the direction of the stairs. “Mmhm. Come on, she came in a couple minutes ago.”

You followed the Sokovian up the stairs, pointedly ignoring the embarrassment that settled across your cheeks when you sleepily stumbled into the wall after miscalculating the distance to the door of their bedroom. You flopped against the bed the second you were close enough, claiming your rightful position in the middle of the blankets.

“Getting comfy now, are we?” Wanda laughed at your eagerness to settle into her bed, but she hadn’t expected the night to unfold any differently, though your impromptu cuddle session on the couch had not been a wrench she’d expected to see thrown into those plans.

You didn’t cuddle back into her chest when she laid down in the bed beside you, but you didn’t shuffle away from her either. Your legs touched beneath the heavy white blanket that was pulled up over your shoulders, an eager smile on your lips as you heard the shower water turn off and Natasha mumbling beneath her breath as she fumbled through drawers and cabinets.

“Two weeks away and she’s forgotten where she put her hairbrush.” Wanda rolled her eyes, but there was no trace of annoyance in her features as she watched the door with the same amount of excitement as you.

When Natasha did reappear, dressed in a different set of loungewear and with her red waves cascading down her back in a dampened state, you wiggled closer to Wanda and patted the open space beside you. Little words were spoken, but nothing needed to be said when your bright smile spoke a million inexpressible feelings. Happy to be home, Natasha took full advantage of having both you and Wanda with her. She pulled you flush against her back, restraining your movement, but you had missed her heavy arm being thrown around your waist as you slept so you didn’t protest. Her fingers twisted into Wanda’s like they’d never truly belong anywhere else, and with full darkness surrounding the room, you fell back to sleep.

“I love you.” Natasha whispered to Wanda, stroking the woman’s knuckles with the calloused pad of her thumb.

“I love you too, moya lyubov’.”

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

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lovemly4 · 2 months

Note

Hey hope you have an amazing day! I realised that there's not much logan sargeant request here on tumblr and was wondering if I could request one? Just a very clingy reader and how she always reacts when he comes back to their home ❤️ fluff pls!

Hi darling!! I had an amazing day, what about you? You’re so right, Logan deserves more attention! I specifically wrote about him coming back home after a long time, and how much reader is excited to see him. Hope that’ll do!!

Back to You - Logan Sargeant

Word count: 970 ; Genre: fluff ; Pairing: Boyfriend!Logan x reader ; Warnings: none

It had been three weeks since the last time you saw Logan. Your job didn’t really let you had time to accompany him to the races, nor see him very often, and that caused your mood to drop inevitably.

Furthermore, your love language had always been quality time and physical touch, so being apart only fed your desperation to spend time together. You two video called each other every night, sharing news and tidbits, but no.

It wasn’t enough. You were feeling empty anyway.

‘Just two more days’ you thought to yourself, trying to soothe the painful sadness of his absence engaging in house chores or working compulsively ‘til late hours.

Little did you know, he was in the exactly same state as you. Being this far from you pained him, destroyed by the want to fill every single fiber of his body with your laugh and your melodious voice again.

‘Just two more days‘ he thought, trying to distract himself spending time with his team or walking in the city he was in. And everywhere he went he promised himself to return there with you, and show you all the places that took his breath way.

Two days passed, and you got to the airport three hours earlier.

You didn’t even realize it until you got there, and laughed at the sight of your screen displaying the early morning time.

You waited patiently, minutes feeling like hours, hours feeling like days, looking at people dragging their suitcases and the tired face of a mother holding her crying child.

Until you got the text that he finally landed.

You placed yourself in front of the exit, your eyes frantically sorting out each face, but none of them had his ice blue eyes that you loved so much.

You felt a pair of strong arms hugging you from behind and turning you around, his tall figure towering over yours for the first time in what felt like forever.

Your excited squeaks were muffled against his shoulder as his wide hands held your waist, allowing him to hide his face in the crook of your neck, your scent finally overwhelming him again.

When he crossed the doorway of your shared home he exhaled in relief.

Despite loving every single part of his job, coming back to you was his favorite part.

He left his luggage next to the door, completely ignoring it as he plopped down onto the soft fabric of your couch, your body following him shortly after.

You crawled onto his lap dying to sense his warmth under your skin, hands softly brushing over his short hair as he told you the most interesting parts of his trip and how the race went.

“I watched it, you know?” you told him softly and his eyes lit up, his reaction as something so obvious confusing you “if I can’t be with you, i should at least support you from home” you said with a pouty face.

He laughed out loud, your hands feeling his toned chest trembling with it as he took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips to place a devoted kiss to the back of your palms.

The sun set behind the horizon leaving the living room in a dark golden color, the long gone shadows replaced by the dim glow of the TV screen.

Logan passed out in the middle of the film the two of you were watching, right now being nothing more than a distant murmur.

His head was lying on your lap, soft exhales coming out of his mouth as your hand traced imaginary patterns along his exposed skin.

Looking down at him with a loving expression, you placed your other hand in his free one, lightly squeezing not to wake him up but just enough to make sure that he was actually real, and there with you.

But he was not completely asleep, and he felt his heart fluttered with adoration; despite his exhaustion, he refused to waste his time sleeping. He rathers being half-asleep, listening to your sounds in the peace of the night: your rhythmic heartbeat under your shirt, your breathy laugh as a funny scene plays on the screen, the sound that your feet make as you habitually tap them on the carpet.

The morning after, you woke up to the sound of pans slamming to the ground.

Logan was trying to make pancakes on his own, not succeeding much since there was flour on his nose, egg on the counter and sugar on the floor.

You hugged him good morning, examining his skills from behind.

“Here love, let me help you- you gently took the wooden spoon out of his hands, trying to mix what looked like a light yellow blob- scoop it with this motion” he copied your movements, joyfully smiling when the batter started to look edible.

He smacked a loud kiss to your cheek, transferring some of the flour to your skin.

“You know how to cook them, right?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow, “I know how to cook them… Of course” he huffed, heating the pan.

You placed the dishes on the kitchen island, as Logan transferred the food onto the ceramic plates.

You both tasted the first bite, not sure of what expression to assume not to show the actual impression.

“This is…” you start, Logan interrupting you

“Disgusting, it tastes like a sponge. It feels like a sponge. Please, don’t let me go near the stove ever again. Got it?” he asked, a disgusted expression on his face accentuating the little wrinkles under his eyes.

You bursted out laughing, his arms engaging you in a warm bear hug.

He looked down at you through his light eyelashes, his nose grazing over yours.

“Feels so good to be back to you”

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 3 months

Note

For Travis. One of the kids is having a hard time with him leaving for a trip. Crying, screaming, clinging to him - breaking his heart

Savannah always had terrible seperation anxiety, even as an infant. She was a typical daddy's girl, and he always had to be in her sight or there would be tears and tantrums that only he could console. As soon as she learned to walk, she became Travis' shadow, following him wherever he went.

At that age it was a little easier to distract her when he had to go to games or travel- out of sight, out of mind; but this was the first season where she understood that his career took him away from her quiet often, and she was struggling with nightmares and sleep regression whenever he wasn't home.

"Daddy, where going?"

Travis placed his jacket in his suitcase before turning to the tiny voice that was whispering to him, finding Savannah standing in the doorway, her pajama pants hiked up around her knees, messy hair hanging in her face. The toddler rubbed her sleepy eyes, her plush dinosaur tucked safely under her arm.

Travis picked her up in his arms, pulling her close. "Nannah, I just put you to bed. What're you doing up?" He always waited until Alex and Sav were in bed to start packing for an away game to try to make it as inconspicuous as possible.

"I have bad night nights", she whined out on the verge of tears. "Oh, baby, its okay. I've got you now. He gently rocked her back in forth in his hold as he paced the room. You peeked your head out of the bathroom, where you were getting ready for bed, to see what was going on. "What's wrong, babe?"

"She had a bad dream", Travis mouthed to you quiet enough that Savannah couldn't hear him. You gave him a sympathetic look, knowing this was breaking his heart. You knew this was just as hard on him as it was on your daughter. There were so many times you basically had to push Travis out of the door because he didn't want to leave.

You carefully pushed the hair out of Savannah's eyes, her lashes fluttering as exhaustion set in. "Do you wanna sleep in Mama and Daddy's bed tonight?" She gave you a weak nod, clinging onto Travis even tighter. As soon as they climbed into bed, she was laying on Travis' chest, falling asleep to the rhythm of the rising and falling of his chest. "I'll finish packing for you", you whispered, Travis giving you a thankful air kiss.

The next morning, you got up early to say good bye to Travis, who was dragging his feet as he ate breakfast and got ready to leave. The kids were still sound asleep, Savannah still in your shared bed. "Don't even think about it", you warned, catching the flash of distress on his face as he got dressed. "She'll be fine, baby."

"She wouldn't let me go last night. Every time I tried to lift her off me she started to cry, even in her sleep."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, Travis' hands finding your hips. "Alex went through this same thing, too, remember?", you scratched the back of his head with your nails, something you always knew calmed him down. "She's just going through a phase, but I promise you, she'll be okay. You need to focus on the game, baby."

"I know, I know", he admitted with a huff, giving you a kiss gentle kiss on the kiss before letting you go. You watched as he put on his jacket and gathered his bag. "Give them all the kisses for me, okay?"

"100 each. You got it", you said with a wink and one last kiss.

Just as Travis reached for the door handle, you heard the pitter of tiny feet coming down the hallway. "Daddy!". Savannah had tears streaming down her face, her nose red and snotty as she ran up to Travis. You let out a sigh as he picked her up, Sav wrapping her tiny arms tightly around his neck.

"What's wrong, baby?" Travis rubbed her back, but it did nothing to console her. "You were leaving me?", she asked between sobs, haphazardly wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I've gotta go to work Nannah, just for a little while."

"Daddy has to go play football, Sav! He's gonna go play with Uncle Patrick and Uncle Chris."

"They can play without me", Travis muttered out, but you shot him a look not to start that. "C'mon, baby, we'll have breakfast with Alex and then we'll watch Daddy on the TV on Sunday, okay?" You reached for her, but she pulled away nodding her head. "I want Daddy". She tucked her face in the crook of his neck, continuing to cry, pools of tears wetting Travis' sweater.

"Hey Nannah", Travis said in his gentlest tone, setting her down on the ground. "Remember when we went to the game last weekend with Nannah and Papa, how fun that was? and how much of a big girl you were with your own seat, cheering me on when I played?" She nodded with a sniffle, holding onto his hands. "Well, I have to go play somewhere else so other kids can watch me play too."

"Big girls like me?", she asked, with an inquisitive tip of her head. Travis chuckled, realizing she was starting to understand as much as a three year old could. "Yes, baby, just like you, and I need you here to watch me on TV and cheer for me, okay? I can't win without you."

"Okay, I cheer for you, Daddy!" Travis couldn't help the grin on his face at seeing her perfect little smile. "Okay, give me a kiss." He grabbed at her playfully, peppering her face with kisses as she giggled uncontrollably. "That's my girl."

"Don't forget mama, too. She needs kiss." Savannah said, running over to you.

"Of course, I could never forget mama. Goodbye, babe." He gave you a third kiss, this time, your lips linger together a little longer. "Bye, I love you."

#travis kelce #travis kelce fanfic #travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce imagine #traviskelce #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

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honeybleed · 16 days

Text

series masterlist

content & warnings: fem!reader, karina is completely ooc lmao, drug consumption, kinda focuses more on reiner x jean this chapter, masturbation (m.), voyeurism

author’s note: i did not abandon this series i promise 😞 i really do have it planned out but i suppose i lost motivation due to the drama last month and lack of feedback. but hey! here we go. mdni banner credits to @/cafekitsune

word count: 5.5k

A soul-crushing flight that left some sort of crick in your neck that no matter how much you moved and stretched would not go away.

And a cranky Jean Kirstein who for some reason brought his aged and yellow-paged, cracked spine Lord of the Flies copy from middle school.

You remember when he made you get a copy of the book from the library since he adored it and you told him it gave you the creeps.

Then he teased you relentlessly about you getting upset about Piggy's death because in Jean's words "He sucked and he deserved to die."

The both of you dragged your luggage into the sprawling mansion, where you were greeted by the butler of the estate.

The butler stopped with your suitcases, leading you down a large hallway.

The regal family crest adorned the entrance as well as the curated collection of ancestral portraits lining the hallways along the winding staircase.

One, in particular, of Reiner's grandfather. He looked just like Reiner. Strong jaw, intense brown eyes with a piercing gaze.

You were astounded by the vastness of the estate. The groomed lawns and grounds stretched as far as you could see.

Stunning gardens full of vivid flowers. Sound of water pouring from the fountain in the centre.

You could see Reiner waiting in the foyer of the estate, causing you to break out into a smile and bound over, throwing your arms around him.

"Rei!" You squealed.

"Hey there, pretty baby." He beamed as he engulfed you into a bear hug, sweeping you off your feet. "You missed me?"

You nodded.

"I'm so pumped to be here!"

Despite your full gaze on Reiner, it was difficult to shake the feeling of Jean burning lasers into the back of your head.

"Yo Horseface!" Reiner chuckled as he let you go, heading towards Jean and giving him a heavy pat on the back, the unexpectedness causing Jean to splutter. "Flight was okay?"

You smiled as you looked up at Reiner. He was in a forest green Lacoste polo shirt with his arms folded, showcasing his perfectly toned biceps and broad chest.

He gave you a wink as he caught you ogling, causing heat to creep up your cheeks.

"Nothin' special." Jean grumbled, wincing at the memory of the baby who was bawling all night. "Got here in one piece, that's all that matters." With a stiff nod.

"I think he's just jet lagged..." You said with an uneasy chuckle.

Suddenly a looming figure emerged from the shadows, a vision of glamour and sophistication. Dressed in luxury clothes that adhered to her surgically enhanced curves. She oozed timeless beauty despite her age.

"Reiner, darling, you didn't tell me you were bringing such a handsome friend home!" Karina purred, her gaze lingering on Jean with unsettling intensity.

"Mother, this is Jean and Y/N. They'll be staying with us for the summer." Reiner said with a smug smile.

Karina's eyes sparkled with a predatory gleam as she stepped closer to Jean, her perfectly manicured hand reaching out to caress his angled jawline.

"You remind me of an old flame of mine, Jean. Such striking features." She murmured, her voice dripping with a honeyed charm.

He gave a bewildered glance at Reiner, who offered no reassurance. His indifference only added to the eerie atmosphere that surrounded them.

"Mother, don't sleep with my friend. I don't need another repeat of last year."

Your eyes widened as you looked at Jean who shared the same sentiment.

A repeat?!

"Oh lighten up, darling. It wasn't my fault little Bertie wanted to keep me company." She said with a wink.

You watched the exchange, your intuition sensing the weird tension between the mother and son. You discreetly nudged Jean, silently urging him to remove himself from Karina's grasp.

Jean couldn't shake the feeling. Karina's advances left him feeling unsettled, and he could not for the life of him stop fidgeting.

You both were shown to your rooms in the large estate, but Jean was being prickly with dry responses. It annoyed you to no end. As the butler took his leave, you immediately ripped into Jean after you shut the door behind you.

"You've been acting like a jerk since we got here!" You fumed.

"Yeah, well what do you expect? You know how I feel about that asshole!"

"So why would you still agree to come along?!"

"What, so you can come back knocked up?"

"What the hell?! Reiner would not knock me up!" You barked as you hurled a cushion at Jean's head, him swiftly dodging it. "He invited us over, the least you can do is try and be fucking polite!"

"Oh please. He invited us here? The only reason he invited you here was that he wanted to plow you into the mattress! And wants to mock me!"

"Mock you?!"

"You know exactly what I mean." He grumbled as he flipped on his side and curled tightly in a ball.

"Now, why the hell are you sulking?" You snickered, amused at the sight of such a large man like Jean acting like a toddler.

"Go away!" He hissed as he buried his head into the pillow.

An idea popped into your head.

He yelped and jumped with a squeal when you lunged at him, beginning to tickle his sides. Rolling around on the bed, attempting to cover his stomach.

"N-Not funny! Get offa me!"

Jean would've rather have died before anybody apart from you knew how deathly ticklish he was.

He tried to grab your wrists in an attempt to stop you, and as he failed miserably, his body jerked about wildly.

Your fingers trailed to his armpits, stomach, chest and torso. His shirt rode up, exposing his happy trail and the taut muscles of his abdomen.

"You can't escape from me!" You grinned as Jean squawked and shrieked like a child, his body twitching from the tickle onslaught.

His mouth was open as he struggled to catch his breath, face reddening as he gasped for air. His face scrunched up as he desperately tried to grab your hands to stop.

"Will you tell me what's wrong now?" You cooed.

"I said it's n-nothing!" He protested, still wriggling, turning his body, his back now exposed.

He was squirming under your fingers. His breathing fast, sweat trickling down his forehead.

"Look I'll stop!" You said as you quickly withdrew your hands.

Silence hung in the air only accompanied by Jean's labored breathing. It was an awkward position, you were straddling him on the bed as he struggled to meet your eye.

"Now tell me what's wrong." You said, sternly.

"Leave me alone." He murmured, but it was hard to miss the way his voice cracked.

"Jeanbo~."

"Don't call me that." He groaned, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. "Just makes me feel worse."

"Are you worried about your Mom?" You asked, voice tender as you cupped the side of his face and forced him to meet your eyes.

"...Yeah." He said after a little pause.

He knows he can cope. But when she passes, it'll make him spiral. She's all he ever had apart from you. And as much as she insisted on leaving it in the past, it haunts him.

"Come here." You instructed, wrapping your arms around him.

His body relaxed as he leaned his head onto your chest. The sobs came deep within him, wracking his body, he was struggling to find the right words.

"She told you to enjoy your summer." You whispered as you smoothed the back of his hair down. "Try and enjoy this holiday. It's only two weeks for you anyways. Call the hospice when it's evening and be wary of time zones. Okay?" You said, trying to be as reassuring as you could.

He sidled up to you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"We gotta get ready for dinner, y'know." You snickered at his action.

"Don't care." He said lowly, eyes still shut. But he eventually untangled his limbs from yours after your nagging and trudged over to the ornate mirror that was above the chest of drawers.

As he observed the tear tracks down his cheeks, the red swollen eyes, and the red-rimmed nose, he sighed heavily and raked his fingers through his sandy brown tresses.

"Will you stop being so cranky now?"

"Can't guarantee that. What kind of dinner is at 5:55 on the dot? That has to be a bad omen or something."

"Angel numbers will not kill you." You chuckled, relieved Jean was returning to his snarky self.

"Angel numbers...that star sign crap...it's always something with you."

You snickered.

"For me?"

His cheeks were flushed pink, he was trying to be stern but was failing miserably to maintain his composure.

"Yeah. For you..I guess." He said with a bittersweet smile, voice still hoarse from weeping.

You were confused when one of the maids told you to wear a dress. It was a beautiful dress but you had no idea why you couldn't have worn something of your own.

Nevertheless, you didn't put up much of a fight. The dress was one of the most elegant pieces of clothing you'd seen in all your years of living.

Gazing in the mirror after the timid maid exited the room, you marvelled at it.

The bodice seemed tailored to accentuate your curves.

The skirt billowed out from the waist in a cascade of luscious folds, gathering around your feet to form a sweeping train that swept the floor. The endless layers of gathered tulle and silk chiffon adding volume and dimension to the skirt.

You made your way down the stairs where Reiner was in formal wear like you, waiting expectantly.

"You look breathtaking." Reiner smiled as he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. The feeling of his lips on your skin sent a jolt of electricity down your spine.

So naive.

That glimmer in your eye is all too familiar. He dangles some attention, vague compliments that could apply to any pretty girl and you fall hook, line and sinker.

You mustered out some words of gratitude. You can't be shy around a man you were so intimate with yet in this setting...being at his family home. You couldn't help but be so anxious.

All the while Jean wanted to stab his eyes out with the fancy silverware as he watched the two of you take seats. He didn't know who he was more angry at. He hated Reiner already but you fawning over that meathead was nauseating.

You met Jean's gaze. He didn't even bother to button up the collar and the bowtie was slung around his neck. From the way he was slouched on his chair, he looked hungover.

Your words went in one ear and out the other. But there was a part of you that couldn't help but smile. Jean was so handsome to you. Even in a dishevelled state.

It was a flurry of staff changing and switching plates. You noticed Karina giving Jean the eye which made him pull a face.

Regardless, she was still somebody's mother. So he braced himself and gave her a pained smile.

Jean stared at the appetiser in front of him.

"What is this supposed to be?"

The butler leaned towards Jean's ear.

"This is a Riesling poached pear salad with Black Forest ham." He responded.

Jean pointed at the garnish, face stuck.

"That is toasted walnuts and crumbled blue cheese, my good Sir."

"Why can't you people eat normal food?" Jean muttered under his breath.

"Jean!" You hissed, frowning at him.

"Ignore him.." You said with an awkward giggle. "We've been living off instant ramen for months."

As you bit the inside of your cheek, it was hard to deny the eerie atmosphere. You figured of course there'd be a strange feeling looming considering the fact this was an estate that survived all the events of history.

If it had been passed down generations, it surely had some ghosts. Just the mere thought of blood spilling on these grounds made a shiver go up your spine.

You quickly recomposed yourself and turned your attention to the fancy food. Jean was right. This was not real food at all.

Reiner and Karina seemed to be discussing things in their mother tongue after she did an interrogation on Jean, chockful of questions that crossed boundaries about his personal life.

"...You don't have to answer them if you don't want to, Jean." You said firmly as you glared at Karina.

Jean was a little relieved at you sticking up for him. It's not as if he was incapable of doing so.

On the contrary, Jean could be as cutting and venomous if he wanted to, however, insulting somebody's mother was not his prerogative.

"It's fine, Y/N. I'm an open book." He chuckled.

"A boring one." Reiner added which earned a glare from Jean and shrieks of laughter from Karina.

"Yo." Reiner called out as he saw Jean staring out the bay window absentmindedly, sat on the plush seating of it.

The rest of the estate had all gone to sleep, it was rather unnerving the deafening silence in the colossal estate.

Jean turned to face Reiner, then gave him a curt nod.

"That's funny. Usually that vein in your forehead starts throbbing if I come anywhere near your vicinity." Reiner chuckled as he folded his arms and leant against the wall.

"Being pissed at one in the morning just makes me look like a dick." Jean muttered as he rubbed his neck.

"You hungry?"

"I ain't eating that rich people crap." Jean said flatly as he turned away to look back out at the pitch black sky.

"Relax." Reiner snorted. "I get it. But if you're hungry, there's a burger joint I think you'd like. Their loaded fries will make you forget hunger is a thing."

"I'm holding you to that. I think my body is still running off those airline salted peanuts." Jean grumbled as he begrudgingly lifted himself off the seat and followed after Reiner as he guided him to the massive parking lot.

“That why you so grumpy?”

“Oh ha ha.”

He shifted his weight on the neatly paved asphalt, the frosty air nipping his skin. The rows of vehicles parked in orderly fashion, each gleaming under the moonlight caused his eyes to widen.

"You driving?" Jean arched his brow as he looked over the Mercedes-Benz S-Class. He knew Reiner's ego was already big, so he bit back to 'sweet ride' that on the tip of his tongue.

"What? You can't drive, Kirstein?" Reiner teased.

"I ain't that confident on foreign roads." Jean shrugged. "It'd probably do some spoiled heir good to be the chauffeur for once."

"And that'd make you a passenger princess, eh?"

"Aren't I pretty?" Jean goaded.

It was merely a joke, but Reiner felt a little taken aback as he looked at Jean. His mouth going dry as he took in Jean's appearance in the quiet hallway.

Jean's sharp, jutting jawline, adorned with a rugged stubble was the first thing he'd noticed when he first set eyes on him during orientation, as well as the way he was one of the few people that were around Reiner's own towering height, Jean just a little more taller by a few more inches.

"Jeez, don't jizz your pants, Braun." Jean said airily as he pulled the car door open. "Pick up your jaw and show me. I don't exactly have high hopes since this is German cuisine.

"Oh, shut your trap." Reiner burst into hysterics. "All those additives in that slop and you think you're some culinary expert."

"Like the pretentious crap your family eat is any better." Jean jabbed, earning a scoff from Reiner.

"Can't argue with you there."

"Is Y/N asleep?" Jean asked as Reiner swapped gears, the gravel driveway crunching beneath his tyres.

"It's cute how you're always mothering her." Reiner chuckled.

"You jealous?"

"Maybe. It'd be nice to experience maternal nagging." Reiner chuckled.

Jean felt a pang in his chest as he remembered his own mother once again. He balled up his fist in his lap, fingers digging into his palm.

The entirety of this stay, he'd been doing his best not to think too much of her. He wanted to respect her wishes but it was just hard to.

"Eh?"

Reiner shrugged as his hands gripped the steering wheel, facing the road as they finally exited the iron gates.

"I barely remember shit about her. She's just my birth giver in a sense."

Heavy silence blanketed the two, practically suffocating.

Reiner cleared his throat.

"Jeez man, I'm sorry. That musta been awkward for you to hear." He said, voice uncharacteristically shaky for him.

Jean swallowed thickly.

"Don't be." He cleared his throat. "I had a gut feeling when the two of you interacted. So, no surprise."

"Y/N told me you were real close with your mom."

Jean let out a sigh as he rubbed the nape of his neck.

"She seems to think so. But I was a real piece of shit when I was younger. I'd feel pretty disingenuous if I ran around pretending I was a Mama's boy when I gave her hell most of my life."

"You feel bad, I guess that's gotta count for something." Reiner replied.

"Oh god. The last thing I need is for you of all people to start pitying me." Jean said with a pained laugh as he threw his head back.

"Alright, alright!" Reiner paused to think. "Okay then. You're a piece of shit and your mom deserves better."

"There we go." Jean grinned as he squeezed Reiner's shoulder.

It was strange. Reiner knows he enjoys spending time with you. However, being with Jean was exhilarating.

As Reiner drove down smoothly, the cool night air hit him as he rolled down the window. He and Jean shared occasional bursts of laughter or glances at anecdotes after they stuffed themselves silly.

"Okay, you won me over. The burger place was alright but maybe it's cos that paper mache they put on a plate didn't even make a dent in my hunger."

"That shit was heavy!" Reiner protested. "Maybe you just got a carnivorous appetite."

Reiner Braun wasn't the piece of shit Jean Kirstein thought he was. He was used to the big man on campus. And he would've rather died before admitting it, but deep down he wanted what Reiner had.

The way all the girls on campus fawned over him. The way all the guys wanted to be him. He was a little envious of the way even you had fallen for Reiner.

This massive estate, the adoration from other students when he scored a touchdown. Reiner was the type of guy who'd go down in history. His name would live on whilst Jean would probably remain insignificant.

Reiner knows he shouldn't have done it. But he couldn't help it. The way Jean was looking at him whilst he was lost in the middle of a train of thought, it made sense. The moment Jean froze as their lips met, he was regretting it.

"I'm-"

Jean grabbed the sides of Reiner's face, crushing his lips against him and the two began to move in sync, tasting each other.

Jean let the kiss linger for a moment.

Reiner tentatively slid his tongue between Jean's lips and into his mouth, savoring the taste and texture of his tongue. His breathing quickened, lost in the feeling of their mouths dancing together.

However, the accidental brushing of Reiner's hand against the crotch of Jean's pants emitted a soft gasp from Jean's lips.

Jean's eyes wrenched open, in absolute horror when the reality sunk in. He was making out with Reiner in a car. Just like all the other girls on campus.

Breaking the kiss immediately, Reiner was startled by Jean's reaction.

"Shit..! Sorry, I didn't mean that-"

"The kiss or you groping my dick?!" Jean barked, on edge and flustered as his lips tingled.

"I ain't a creep, I wouldn't do that unless you let me..!" Reiner shot back, paralysed in fear at the idea that he accidentally went too far.

Jean's ground his teeth as he clenched his jaw. He could not believe Reiner had him whimpering in his mouth like a little bitch.

"Just...drive us home and pretend this never happened." Jean settled on, averting his gaze.

A painfully awkward drive back, Jean marched out of the car leaving Reiner alone with his thoughts.

Reiner always had some sort of attraction to Jean. But he figured it was something insignificant in his life. Attractive people are everywhere.

But he doesn't even remember a time where somebody he was sticking his dick in even bothered to talk to him the way Jean did.

Wracked with guilt, Jean's chest caved in. He descended down the winding hallways and headed over to your bedroom.

He let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him, comforted at the sight of your figure in the bed.

As he clambered into your bed and wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin on the top of your head. It wasn't meant as a romantic or sexual thing.

Even if Jean was a mean kid, whenever the two of you spent the night as youngsters it was something he became accustomed to.

He stopped when you both hit puberty and he began to push you away. But now he needed your comfort more than ever.

"Is that you, Jean..?" You murmured, voice heavy with sleep as you smelt his familiar woody scent.

Jean blinked a few times as he let out a sigh and pulled you close against him.

"Yeah, it's me."

"We haven't hugged like this since middle school.." You giggled as you turned to hug him so the two of you were chest to chest.

His heartbeat quickened as he felt your body pressed against him. Holding you tight, he buried his face into the nape of your neck. Shame still weighing on him.

"Will you always love me?"

"Love you how?" You replied, eyes still shut as you nestled further into his broad chest.

A long pause settled over the two of you.

Jean wanted to say how he truly felt, but the words simply couldn't come out of his mouth.

"Whatever way you may love me, will you always love me?"

"I promise." You murmured as you drifted back to sleep.

Jean was absolutely thrown off when he woke up. The first thing that played in his mind and hit him like a truck was Reiner kissing him.

How the hell did that even happen? He knew good and well he would never in a million years make the first move on Reiner of all people.

He loathed him.

Right?

"She's just my birth giver in a sense."

Jean immediately groaned as he pulled his pillow over his head, and yelled into the mattress, voice muffled.

Why was he feeling sorry for this dickhead?!

And how much of a manwhore was he? How could he like two women at the same time? And then along came stupid Reiner Braun.

Did Reiner even think of how awkward kissing him would've made this trip? It would've been easier if it was just the two of them hating each other's guts and fighting over you.

Now Jean's mind was a whirlwind.

He leaned down to tentatively sniff the pillow you had rested your head. Letting out a sigh of relief as the fabric was still tinged with your shampoo that had an airy floral fragrance.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty!" Reiner called out as Jean approached the both of you in the garden.

Usually Jean liked to apply pomade in his hair but he arrived outside with serious bedhead after a shower.

This entire estate was unnerving him and he had horrid sleep. Tossing and turning, waking up almost every hour. He had no clue what had gotten into him.

He felt slightly relieved to see you, even though you ran off with Reiner this morning.

"Eat shit and die, Reiner." Jean grumbled as he flopped on the deck chair, lowering the sunglasses to obscure his face.

"Hey, Jean. Reiner was just showing me how to throw axes."

"And why on Earth do you need to know how to throw an axe, Xena Warrior Princess?" Jean snorted.

"It's a test of strength." Reiner chuckled as he tossed the mini axe in the air spinning and caught it. "You want a go? You got some guns on you."

You snorted.

Despite Jean making it clear he hated Reiner and did not want to be there, Reiner never shied away from showering Jean with compliments. Which only seemed to piss Jean off even more.

The rest of the day went fairly slow. There wasn't much to do despite the estate being massive. You and Jean received a small tour from Reiner but even he barely knew what all these grand rooms were for.

Jean was a little confused as to why Reiner had returned back to his douchebag self. In the car when he had freaked out, Reiner seemed genuinely apologetic.

Now he was acting as if nothing happened. Nevertheless, if Reiner was going to pretend that it never happened, it worked splendidly for Jean.

How the hell would you have reacted if you found out he kissed Reiner?

Evening fell and Reiner decided to bring the both of you a little outside of the actual mansion.

"We own tonnes of land. Most of it just kinda was just forgotten about." Reiner chuckled.

The heat was a lot more relentless in the evening, prompting the boys to go shirtless with baggy shorts with the material you'd see for swimming.

You had an inkling Reiner wanted something that would look painted on since the man loved to streak whenever there was a party but it wasn't worth the chafing.

"Yeah, totally relatable." Jean snarked as he nudged your shoulder.

Your hands brushed against the tall stalks of grass as you admired the wildflowers. Even though you still couldn't rid the sinister feeling, being in nature soothed you a little.

Reiner laid down and patted the space beside him.

"No way." Jean snorted.

"You're such a spoilsport. What's wrong with laying in the grass?" You shot, as you followed Reiner's instruction and settled down, crossing your legs.

"What if a centipede crawls up my ass?!" Jean barked.

"Just be real cautious." Reiner chuckled as he rested his head on top of his arms. "You been so uptight this whole time. I know just the thing that'll cheer you up!"

Reiner fumbled around the pockets of his shorts and brandished out a packet of tabs.

"No way. I am not dropping acid, are you crazy?!" Jean exclaimed as his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

You were on board for most of Reiner's antics but even this made you a little cautious as you peered at it.

"Oh don't start getting all Mormon on me. I seen you hotboxing enough times at my parties." Reiner chuckled.

"Yeah, some bud! What the hell makes you think I'd jump to acid straight away, you lunatic?!"

"Look, the worst that could happen is a bad trip alright? And if that happens we'll take care of you, right baby?" Reiner grinned as he slapped his hand onto your bare thigh causing you to squeak.

Jean's eyes slit at the interaction.

"Are you taking it?" He questioned you. His sternness made you shrink under his gaze.

The urge to cave in was overwhelming for him.

"...Yeah."

"Fine. But if I start seeing things and freaking out, I expect you to be my anchor because I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Jean muttered.

"Attaboy..." Reiner chuckled, pleased with himself. "Open up."

"You trying to make it weird?" Jean said as he quirked an eyebrow, not exactly scrambling away at the small pill on the pad of Reiner's thumb sliding along Jean’s own tongue.

"Shit was already weird, buddy."

"So...I just swallow?"

Reiner nodded.

"Yup. Just swallow."

"Jeez, get a room." You burst into hysterics.

“If only you knew.” Jean grimaced as that thought flashed through his kind.

The drug ran through everyone's bloodstreams, and the tenseness seemed to fade away. Jean began to doze off onto you.

Reiner couldn't help but notice the worry etched into your features as Jean's head rested on your lap. His breathing was even, and the whites of his eyes were showing as they were half lidded.

"He's fine, okay?" He said in a reassuring tone as he rubbed your shoulder.

"Does it makes you sleepy?" You questioned.

"Depends on the person." Reiner shrugged. "Some get hyper, some get mellow."

There was a twinge of jealousy at how much concern you were showing towards Jean. Or even the fact he wanted Jean on his lap.

He was hurt by Jean acting as if nothing happened last night. But there was no way of addressing it without it being awkward.

What was the end game of it all? The three of you were ensnared in some sort of web of complication. Two guys crushing on a girl isn't hard to understand. But the intentions were muddled.

Reiner sleeps with you. You were doing it out of spite but had a soft spot for Reiner but now Reiner is starting to view Jean in a completely different light. And if it was possible, he wants to continue it.

How would you react if Reiner dropped the bomb he kissed Jean? It'd probably hurt you since he knew you had feelings for Jean and in a way, Reiner convinced you that he was somebody you could rely on.

Sighing, he shook his head. Opting for small talk to distract himself for the conundrum.

"How you likin' everything so far?" Reiner finally asked, in an attempt to move the question away from Jean.

"It's a little fun."

"C'mon, you don't gotta lie to me. Why'd you think I brought guests?"

"Alright, it is kinda boring. But I get it. I'd wanna live somewhere like here. Warm n lotsa grass." You murmured as you basked in the sun rays.

Jean awoke to a start in the pitch black room, practically sinking into the plush mattress. The only light was slivers of moonlight and the shadows of trees rustling, which did little to calm him.

His heart was hammering, and goosebumps and hair had risen all across his arms and legs. When he had swallowed the tab, he remembered being drowsy.

He rememberd resting on your warm and plush thighs. You and Reiner's conversation seemed to be warbled to his ears. His throat was like sandpaper, the only thing on his mind was the thirst.

As he rose up, he immediately let out a deep groan as he clutched his head. The swirling colors and distorted shapes in his vision were making him dizzy and disorientated.

He was still high, it hadn't worn off.

Gripping the bed post, he steadied himself, feet beginning to drag as it took all his might to push the door without losing balance and hurling himself across the wooden planks.

He staggered through the mazelike halls, his footfall booming like distant thunder in the immense emptiness of the mansion.

The sole thought on his mind was how relieved he would be when water slid down his throat, reminiscent of parched riverbed, cracked and barren.

The air was heavy with suffocating silence, broken only by the faint sound of his own ragged breaths echoing through the tremendous halls.

Figures flashed and danced about the edges of his vision, their contorted forms twisting and contorting in a hideous pantomime of insanity, causing him to rush around like a skittish animal.

He froze when he heard water trickling.

The door was slightly ajar and Jean was blasted to the sight of Reiner in the tub. The warm candles glinted off the bathtub's gleaming porcelain surface and gilded clawfoot legs.

His eyes were transfixed onto the scene unfolding in front of him.

The blond's head tilted back as grunts fell from his lips. His hand stroking his shaft. And for some reason, Jean could not look away.

The beads of sweat trickling down Reiner's neck, the deep and guttural grunts from deep within his chest. The sounds caused Jean to fall into a state of confusion.

Why was this making his own cock stir?

He bit his tongue as if to anchor himself. This is creepy. This is wrong.

What would happen if Reiner caught him watching like a creep? If it was before everything, he assumed Reiner was the average neanderthal meathead jock. Probably would've pummelled him.

But this was after. After the heart to heart in the car. After the kiss. He wanted to join. He wasn't sure what had happened but somehow Reiner winked at him and instantly vanished.

Now Jean was on his knees, skin soaked from the left over droplets and suds. Thick, slimy fluids down the drain.

It would quench his thirst, as he lowered his head, tongue gliding across the ceramic surface and the salty remnants of Reiner's lust coated his tongue.

Jean hated that he could not hate that pretty boy.

author’s note: did he…really do that? 🫣 up to your interpretation tee hee but i needed to put the infamous scene from the movie HA

#aot x reader #aot smut #reiner braun x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot x female reader #aot x y/n #aot angst #⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nara scribbles #snk x reader

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sparrowrye · 1 month

Text

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 11

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 11: whistling

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

Spencer tried not to swallow for fear of his throat brushing against the razor sharp knife a hair from his skin. The magic headband had been strapped tightly to his head, preventing any and all use of his magic. His hands were tied painfully behind the chair he was sitting on. His guard lay unconscious by the door.

"Where is the Haven?" one of the Humans demanded. There were three of them, two standing in front of him and the other behind his back holding the knife to his throat.

"I-I don't know. I wasn't allowed to know." He didn't know where or who to look at.

"Bullshit. We've seen the photos on your papers."

"Those were given to me. I wasn't allowed in the Haven, I swear." He felt the knife press harder against his neck and a trickle of blood fell.

"Can we use it boss?" the one man asked. He was the smaller of the three and wore a flat hat similar to Spencer's. The man standing beside him nodded, finally telling Spencer who was in charge.

"Use what?" Spencer asked nervously. Alastor where are you?

The man didn't answer. He let his lackey put a heavy suitcase next to him. He withdrew a metal device with wires connected to it. Reaching behind, Spencer let out a cry when something sharp stabbed his wrist. The man turned on a switch on the case.

Spencer instantly knew what was happening. His body tingled and he started to feel lightheaded as his blood was sucked out by the machine. His head lulled back against the chair.

"Where's the Haven?" someone asked him again.

"Don't know coordinates," Spencer mumbled.

"Describe the surrounding area."

Spencer tried to keep quiet but he couldn't stop himself. "Ocean. Forest."

"Good job. What about the-"

The room went dark. The men started yelling at each other trying to decipher what had happened. Meanwhile, I turned off the switch and sliced the wires. I pulled the headband off Spencer and lifted him up by his arm, dragging him to the door before lifting the shadows.

The men stared at the empty seat before looking around. They went still when they saw us standing at the entrance. I had a tight grip on Spencer's shoulder to keep him upright against me. My Demon side was showing and I let my lips curl into a smile.

"I don't appreciate you interrogating my friend," I said in a sweet voice. The headman pulled out a whistle and blew. My ears pinned to my head and I fell against the doorway. The noise pierced my eardrums, my hands desperately trying to protect them. The noise didn't last long but it left a horrible ringing in my head.

The window shattered as a green vine wrapped around my ankle and yanked me out into the night. I skidded on my back and rolled over, sliding to a stop on the other side of the street. I looked up to find a woman with her arms raised and various vines coming out of her back.

Fuck.

I hated fighting women. They were more vicious and faster than men who wanted to brute force their way through things.

The woman wore layers of browns and creams and I could see moss and other plants running along her limbs. She almost looked infected rather than a willing host. I noticed a lack of horns atop her head, a marking for all Demons. Perhaps they were just very small.

She casted a vine at me and I rolled out of the way. I threw fire and wind to singe the plant, two more replacing it immediately. I fell into the small version of my Dragon form and ran along the street. I jumped and weaved through her vines, noticing very quickly that they all had thorns on them.

I casted wind as I jumped through and ducked under them. I slid out from under the mess and turned to admire my handiwork. I had managed to tangle most of them in a knotted mess. She was trying to untangle her vines when I noticed something on her back. It was some kind of strange backpack. Wires ran from it directly into the back of her arms.

She threw her vines in my direction, nearly throwing me off my feet. I opened the ground beneath her and closed it around her body. I imagined my invisible hand pinning the vines to the ground. She let out a yell as she tried to pull herself out of the hole.

I went back to the window to find Spencer. He was slumped against the wall and the men were nowhere in sight, their machine with them. Spencer was breathing which meant he was alive. I could feel his soul still anchored tightly to his body.

I turned back to the woman. I knelt down to examine the backpack. "What is this?"

"Fuck off!" she snapped. She was about my age, maybe a year or two younger.

"Where did you get this?"

She responded the same way as the first. I laid a heavy hand on her shoulder to stop her from moving so much. The backpack was made of metal and clearly had electricity running through it. On the top, engraved in a gold plate, was the name: Blackwater.

It felt familiar but I couldn't pinpoint from where. My thoughts were rudely interrupted by another high pitched whistle. I covered both ears this time, pressing my forehead into the cold stone. It wouldn't stop. My body started to vibrate and I let out a yell as the sound punctured something and grew only louder.

Then it abruptly cut off. My vision was blurry as I looked around the empty street. I looked to the woman and saw the hole where she had been empty. She had gotten away. There was no movement anywhere on the street, even when my vision cleared. I had lost her.

I eased the horrible headache and the throbbing pain in my ears with magic before attempting to stand. I went to find Spencer more awake. He was massaging his wrist where a piece of cloth had been wrapped around.

"Thank you," he said as I stepped around the broken glass.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner," I apologized, holding a hand out to him. I helped him up as he took in the sight of his office. His little shop had been torn apart, papers and books everywhere and ink splattered all over the wood floor.

"It's alright. I knew this would happen." His small shoulders sagged with the sigh he let out.

"Why don't you come back with me? At least for tonight."

He nodded, his cartoon eyes looking around his distorted room once more. The fact that he didn't argue against the offer told me he had been dealing with a lot more than I first thought. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and grabbed the guard's wrist. Charlie teleported us all back and found an empty bed for Spencer. She and I talked briefly about moving him permanently to the Haven.

Back at the house, I found Alastor waiting in the hallway to our bedrooms, arms folded behind his back and cane sticking out from behind one shoulder. "Thank you for taking care of Spencer," he said. I had heard Spencer was in danger through one of the many radios in Alastor's room. He had been nowhere near the house so I went to save the poor man before we lost a big asset.

"Sure." I rubbed my eyes. "Do you know what Blackwater is?"

He tilted his head to the side. "In what context?"

"I saw it on a contraption one of the people were wearing. It was on a metal plate on some weird metal backpack."

He continued to stare at me, lost in thought. For once, I wasn't incredibly bothered by it. I had gotten used to his crimson red eyes always watching me. "I don't believe I recognize it. Sounds as though its a manufacture name."

"Probably."

I moved to grab my door handle but he suddenly appeared an inch from my face. "Your ears are bleeding."

I took a step back and reached up to feel the nearly dried blood dripping down the side of my head. I looked at my blood on my fingers, darker because of my black, scaly skin. He moved to touch my wrist but hesitated, drawing it back a moment later.

"It must've happened when they blew the whistle."

"The whistle?" he inquired, straightening up.

"Yeah. One of the men had a small whistle but it was really loud. I think only I was able to hear it because the woman I was fighting got away when I heard it." I touched the other ear to find more blood on that side too.

Alastor offered his hand in front of me. "May I?"

"May you what?" I turned to face him completely.

"May I heal your ears?"

"Oh...uh..." I could heal my own ears but maybe he was looking for an excuse to touch my blood. It would be better for him to do it this way then to do...the thing...like last time. "Sure."

He held his cane in the crook of his arm and brought both hands up to the side of my face. His palms were cold as they pressed gently around my ears, gradually warming as his magic melted into my skin. He didn't invade my shields, sitting comfortably just a hair away and soaking in our shared energy. I almost wanted him to pass through my shields out of sheer habit.

My ears made a funny pop and it felt like a blanket had been lifted from them. I could hear everything, even the creak of the house's wood from the wind. My ears tried moving against his hands as the sound of magic slowly faded away. I hadn't realized how much I couldn't hear until he had fixed them.

"There," he said with a raise of his voice at the end, "that should feel much better!" He lowered his hands but didn't step away from me. I rubbed my fingers in front of my ears and smiled when I could hear my skin rubbing together.

"Thanks." I noticed his teeth had disappeared to show his gentle smile.

"Of course. Will I be seeing you tomorrow afternoon for another session?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Good. Sleep well," he nodded his head to me. He swiftly turned around and took two steps to enter his room. I noticed the outline of our thread again. I was about to walk into my room when I heard his radio turn on.

I lingered in the hallway, newly healed ears twitching at the sound of the introduction tunes. I didn't have to wait long for the lyrics to start and when they did, he began to sing. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, falling into a trance like state.

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

Author's Note:

Y'all better get ready. The next chapter is a doozy.

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open #ocs

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 1 year

Note

Ok, I don't know if this already exists.

But here I go, how would the adoptive family of the teenager from Record of Ragnarok react to her showing up with a real Baymax complete with charging station?

(ignore it if it's too weird, bye and good night)

This was such a cute idea!

-You received a suitcase from one of your friends, asking you to test it out and give him feedback. Tadashi was always a talented person, with a bright and creative mind, and his newest invention, Baymax, was in the final testing stages. Now all that needed to be done was test it.

-He had several prepared for many of his classmates, wanting their opinions on his invention.

-You saw it in action at school, it was brilliant but at the same time, it looked so cute and cuddly!!

-When you arrived home with the large case under your arm, “I’m home~!” you heard a few voices call out as your struggled to get inside without dropping the case, which you managed to do after a few moments.

-You walked into the living room and eyes went to you as you set the case down, eyes went from the case to you, wondering what it was before you pulled your bag off, “This is Baymax, one of the projects my friend Tadashi made. He asked me to bring one home and try it out with all of you.”

-Loki popped up behind you, his arms wrapping around your neck, hugging you, “So what’s a Baymax?” Nikola approached the case eagerly, like a kid on Christmas, as you answered, “Tadashi described Baymax as a personal healthcare provider attendant, to put it simple, Baymax is a robotic nurse.”

-Sparkles and roses surrounded Tesla as he spun on you, eyes beaming brightly, “Can we see him?!” you can’t help but giggle before you pull out the manual and flip through it for a moment before you turn to Loki, “I need you to hurt someone, just enough to-” SLAP!!!

-Lu Bu leapt up, turning on Loki, “Ow! You bastard!” the case beeped and slowly opened and all attention turned to what could only be described as a walking marshmallow, inflate himself before stepping out of the case.

-Loki was wide eyed, floating around Lu Bu as Zeus was stroking his beard, “What in the world have you humans made now?” Baymax approached Lu Bu, who was standing, and he began to speak after lifting a hand in greeting, “Hello, I am Baymax, a personal healthcare companion. I was altered to the need of medical attention when you said ‘ow’.”

-Tesla was gushing while many of the others had stood to circle Baymax, inspecting him, Eve poked his arm, “Oh- he’s so soft!”

-On Baymax’s belly, a screen appeared, “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” Lu Bu’s eyes were twitching lightly, looking over at you and you gave him a smile, motioning him to go along with it.

-After running through he scans and applying some antibacterial spray to Lu Bu’s chest, where a red handprint was still visible, several members in the room couldn’t help but snicker as Lu Bu took the lollipop, shadows covering his eyes before you spoke, “Thank you Baymax, we are satisfied with your care.”

-Baymax thanked us and went back to his case, deflating and boxing himself back up.

-Everyone was silent for a moment before you instantly found yourself in Tesla’s arms, his eyes sparkling up at you before you giggled, “You can study him, but don’t take him apart. And I can ask Tadashi if you can come to the lab again.” His cheeks was instantly rubbing against your own, thanking you.

-It was definitely a weird week with Baymax, you asked your family to try him out as much as possible, not to purposely injure themselves, as he was able to help with emotional and mental issues as well, as you wanted plenty of feedback.

-When you went back to Tadashi, you left Baymax at home, as he had become a member of the family and Tadashi couldn’t help but laugh, telling you that the other five people he asked all said the same thing, but that’s what he wanted.

-Tadashi was then surprised when Tesla popped up again beside you and began to praise his invention. It wasn’t the first time these two had met and they were quickly in a deep discussion as you waved at them, heading for the campus café for some coffee before class.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror loki #ror tesla #ror lu bu #baymax

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writing-whump · 25 days

Text

Too many people

Hector gets sick on the subway and meets someone new.

Subway was the classic Vienna experience.

Hector knew wolves had been avoiding it and he knew for a good reason - small space, too many people, cut off from outside air, claustrophobic to be underground - which made him want to try it all the more.

Maybe he would show them all off by being the one wolf who liked subways just fine.

Not to mention, he was kind of late today and subways were everywhere, especially around uni, where he needed to get. Asap.

The first station or two were fine. His natural dangerous aura, even without his shadow - he wasn't such a brute as to show it off in public - scared most people off to give him space. He was sprawling in a four seat all alone, and the subway even went above ground for a while giving him a nice view. Almost like a tram, just faster.

But then they crossed a bigger station and suddenly there wasn't enough place for the thickness of the crowd. Nobody cared who was sitting or stand whom on the toes, people went in with speed, as if expecting the bodies would make space on their own.

Man, they were willing to stand in the funking door, delaying the whole ride, just to get a shot!

Hector was quite miffed about all of that, when he was forced against the window and the subway ran in the tunnel for good five stops already.

The air changed, warmer and stickier with all the bodies.

Hector didn't understand humans didn't mind to be pressed against so many strangers. Whole sides, hands gripping the same pole, breathing right into each other's faces.

He was handling it well though. So he was a little compressed by the shoulders and legs of everyone, and yes, these strangers were touching him, which made his skin crawl and his shadow curl up allergically - but he was fine. Deep breaths. Nothing was wrong.

Except the smell of sweaty palms and the guy pressed up next to him all but screaming his ear off into his phone - did the guy thing it was fine to be so loud, just cause he wasn't speaking in German? What the hell! That didn't bother people any less!

Hector was considering he would simply get out a bit sooner than his stop and run the rest of the way. Wasn't like he was quitting, he would just get a bit exercise done before class.

But then the subway stopped. Just stopped in the middle of fucking nowhere, black tunnel behind and in front of them.

The voice apologised with no hint of emotion for a bit of a 'delay' and nobody protested.

Now Hector looked around at people blindly hypnotised by their phones or talking into their earphones, scandalised nobody minded.

He needed a distraction. His chest was tight, he couldn't stop fidgeting and the sensation of the shoulder digging into him made him feel like ants were biting all over it. Oh god, he really shouldn't have risked a subway...

Then his eyes landed on the girl opposite him. She was the only one not on her phone, instead doodling something on her notebook. With a pencil.

Huh. Hector didn't have a use for pencil since grade school.

She had short black hair he wouldn't have guessed for a girl, a bit chubby face, and a red beanie. In that overheated subway, no less. Crazy.

As Hector watched her, cheek pressed into the cool window separating him from unending darkness and the walls of the tunnel, he noticed her eyes darting up to someone and then back to her paper.

Up and back down. The tip of her tongue came up in the corner of her mouth from concentration.

Was she drawing the passengers themselves?

Hector straightened up, craning his neck to get a glimpse. And truly, there it was. She draw the people on the subway, the man with the suitcase, the girl with blue and red pigtails, the grandmother with a small child on the four seat set next to them.

They didn't look real, they had this round animated like quality to them, but they were recognizable and consistent.

And there. That one in the corner of the notebook was him. A deep frown etched into a hard face, bushy eyebrows.

He cackled out loud at that.

The girl jumped up at the sound, the only one near without anything plugging her ears. Her eyes were big and round, smokey gray colour he never saw before.

He grinned at her. "That's me."

She frowned at him. "It's rude to look."

"But you drew me. Surely I have the right to see."

She wrapped her arms around the notebook, pressing it against her chest. "No, you don't. Look somewhere else."

Hector snorted. Defiant one. Did she not know he was a wolf? She stuck her chin at him in the way a human shouldn't to a predator, revealing her throat, meeting his eyes in challenge she couldn't possibly win.

He tried to stare her down, which only made her cheeks puff out indignantly in a cute way.

Ignorant human maybe? Well, Hector was trained and experienced enough to handle a human that didn't know how to act safe around wolves. He just didn't have to do it in such a tight space before.

The subway finally moved with a huge jerk and no warning. People fell left and right over each other.

One guy with a giant backpack fell to the side right into the middle in the small space between the knees of Hector's four set of seats. The guy turned around himself, looked through the window and then turned again.

A giant clumsy turtle, the fool, cause his backpack went right into the girl.

She squeaked, covering her face with her hands. He would have freaking smashed it with how stuffed that bag was.

Hector shot up before he decided to move, suddenly standing in that crowded twitching subway, his arm between the girl and the turtle guy, like a protective cage.

"You asshole! Could have thrown me off my feet!" Turtle guy said, trying to turn again to get a look at Hector.

Hector growled at him, straightening up as the guy twisted around to glare and immediately shrunk back at Hector's size and deadly expression.

"You almost made her into a pancake," Hector said angrily, just a tone away from a growl.

The guy went pale, stepping away, crushing into the mass of bodies. Didn't stop him from trying to slither through to the other side of the wagon, elicting a series of groans from the other passengers.

Now Hector had a different problem. The subway jerked and turned savagely, and he was in the very precarious position of standing. Holding onto the back of the girl's seat, he was fighting his own weight with the next yank as gravity tried to send him against her.

Her smoky grey eyes were wide as she stared at him. This close to her, her smell was striking. Something like sour fruit, lemon and raspberry.

When the subway made another dangerous turn, Hector's legs all but sliding down and pressing against hers, her hands actually shot up to his shoulders to steady him.

He wanted to recoil from the sudden touch, but it did stabilize him as the stop came and finally some of the people trickled out.

Hector breathed hard, sliding into the seat next to her as it emptied, his legs feeling like jelly, sweating from the strain of resisting the subway's movements.

"Thank you," she said meekly, still uncomfortably close. Her leg was pressed against his, her arm against his arm, though even in sitting she was way shorter than him.

He could tell she was trying to keep a distance, but he also had no choice. People got out, changed and filled the small wagon again, pressing at him from the other side to push against her in turn.

He really needed to get out.

Even sitting down, his stomach was rolling with the movements, his senses overwhelmed. Sweat was covering his skin on his neck and down his back and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of the horrible swaying sensation.

"Are-are you okay?"

He could vaguely feel her small warm hand on his shoulder, twitching under her touch. He was so tired of all the touching. He wanted out.

Hector covered half of his face with his hand, trying to breathe through the roiling in his gut he now recognized as nausea.

"Where is your stop?"

He shook his head, brain completely giving out on where he was going in the first place or on following the announcements.

"Okay, uhmm. Let's just get out on the next one? Maybe you just need some air," she said soothingly, getting to her feet. This usually worked to alarm the rest of the passengers for your desire to get off.

She circled around him, her hand on his other shoulder, coaxing him to stand up.

Hector did so, swaying and grabbing onto the nearest pole.

The subway came to a skidding stop that had him squeezing onto it for dear life, stomach flipping inside him.

The girl didn't have his grip, losing her balance at the halt and flying right into him and towards the floor.

Hector caught her around the waist on instinct, their bodies pressed tight together for a second as he dug his heels into the smooth moving ground.

She looked up at him, face against his chest, her citrus smell all he could think about.

Then his stomach flipped again and he hunched over her, hand against his mouth. Oh god, he didn't want to be trapped with the smell vomit here too...

The door opened and she caught him by the wrist, tagging him towards the exist.

Hector stumbled after her, half-blind.

Still underground. Silly people swarming everywhere.

"This way. Up the escalator and out. I know this stop, come on."

The way out was a blurr of darkness and moving bodies. Hector fought against the flipping, his breakfast splashing against the back of his throat. He swallowed compulsively, trying to get himself back under control.

Somehow she was right, taking a back exit and steps he wouldn't have noticed in the maze, leading him out into a small park.

Actual park, with trees and grass and a bit of open space to see the sky, even if buildings circled all of it.

Hector took a deep, relieved breath, finally not suffocating.

She smiled, her hand still around his wrist. "See, all bett-"

Hector took a step to the side, yanking his hand free and threw up all over the grass next to the exit. Hot chunky sandwich and coffee exploded from his lips in a violent heave.

The taste had him gagging all over, another, even thicker wave joining the mess. He didn't have time to breathe from how intense and overwhelming that felt, heaving violently, hands braced on his knees.

In the midst of that, her small hands landed on his lower back, rubbing gently.

He blinked the stress tears away, gagging one more time, but the flipping of his stomach was dying down.

The ground was solid, unmoving. The air was fresh. His shadow was staring to relax and the panicky feeling went away.

She still rubbed his back, as if she didn't know how sensitive it was for a wolf to be touched.

He couldn't believe he let her, it felt way too...invasive. But it was the most pleasant touch he felt all day and compared to all the bodies in the subway, hers was somehow fine. Friendly.

And he liked how she smelled.

"Y-" he interrupted himself with a burp as he straightened up, "your notebook-"

"It's fine. I have others at home," she said, though her face fell a little.

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head in protest, those giant smokey eyes directly meeting his face.

A shiver ran down his spine.

"No, it's okay. You saved me from getting my face smashed today. Twice." Her cheeks reddned in the cutest way. "Thank you."

He waved it away, motioning to the mess on the ground. "Thanks for...ehh...that."

She nodded.

"I'll get you back to your stop. Where were you going? High school?"

Her cheeks puffed out. "I'm a university student, thank you. I was going to the economy uni campus."

"You study economy?" Hector said with a raised eyebrow, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

"No, not exactly. But you guys have the best light in the study rooms. For drawing."

"How did you know what I'm studying?" he said with a small smirk.

Her lips quirked up. "Experienced guess. You look like those entitled economists."

He rolled his eyes. "My name is Hector."

She offered him her hand automatically, not catching on him not extending his own. Truly, no idea about wolves.

Or did she not even realize he was one?

He took her hand hesitantly, deciding he would tolerate one more touch, if it was her.

"I'm Olive," she said with a smile.

@bellysoupset

#sickfic #motion sick #emeto #whump #my writing #werewolf wip #testing the waters with this one #Hector

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petrichorramen · 9 months

Text

moth to a flame [1]

main lead(s): n.brown, black fem!reader

character(s): w.archangelo, a.bendetto, christianos, monroes, pauklees, corsicans, georgiana, nina, dr. theo, original character(s) & more.

content warning(s): age-gap relationships, explicit language, sex & sexual acts, nudity, drugs & drug use, prostitution, misogyny, human trafficking, slight mentions of sexual assault, mental disorders, suicidal ideation & suicide, organized crime, death & murder, violence & gore, corruption, discrimination & more.

author notes: the reader is a burlesque dancer and is very sure of herself and her skills.

You hadn't expected him to be here. You really hadn't.

You breathe, straddling the sheened, stygian vinyl floors and rocking your hips with smooth vigor, your fingers running across your thighs and torso freckled with your signature golden flecks. The apricot-led lights of Bastard’s insignia hanging from the prop behind capture the bejeweled pieces of costume scattered across the stage and the copious boa scarf dangling around your neck, veiling your breasts. There are praises and whistles from the showgoers— all you can see are shadows of faces, the burnished uplighting obscuring your sight, but you honestly don't care and nothing matters except for your stage, your dance, and you.

You turn your back and stand with the boa scarf in your hands, swaying your embellished cage panty-clad ass and twirling your hands toward the Arcadia as if allotting worship because tonight, well— you chuckle through your nose— you were all. Tonight, you were everything.

You sit with your legs crossed at the edge of the stage, an arm propped behind, and the other pulling at the shawl around your neck powdered with sweat. The jazz band drags the note of their instruments to inflate the anticipation, the ache— the wait. And still, when the article of clothing nearly plunges from you, both hands bunch feathers toward your breasts, feigning a look of innocence that earns a parade of laughter.

You carefully remove your grip with the muffler sliding down your back and down to the crook of your elbows, slithering them over your stomach once again and then over the contour of your waist and hips, the musicians belting the final interval of the song. Then, the uplighting dissipates and you nearly miss him.

He leans against the PA speakers in the far back, arms crossed and eyes riveting into yours, the alloyed tags around his neck amongst the sea of them sending taunting glares. Your gaze trails down to the brandished sheathed blade laced to his side with a red ribbon you had flung in his direction during one of your enactments years ago.

After they resigned from the Monroe Family, your latest semi-encounter with the neutral power known as Benriya, or otherwise, the Handymen was amid your debut burlesque rendition. During that encounter, you barely had enough time to evade the wine bottle that soared toward your head as an altercation broke out in the cabaret that evening, the fermented beverage spattering the jeweled corset you had upcycled yourself and the matching garter stockings. Seated on your broken suitcase in the backroom while an EMT nursed your foot after you stepped on the broken glass attempting to make your retreat, you weren't sure who you had been infuriated with on your unsuccessful opening night. When you limped your way toward the exit, using the blood-soiled walls as leverage, blue lights pulsated across your face and he saw you before you could, he and Worick under fire for another vicious scolding from Inspector Chad Adkins. His cheeks were stained and the wideness in his eyes from the thrill of combat had vanished, ushering him back to reality, and yet some of that vigilance remained in the wake, lurking, snarling, and darting.

Your coat slunk down your shoulders when stiffness left them when you met his aloof gaze, the brisk air nipping at your melanin skin. You breathed, and the grip on the defective telescopic handle of your suitcase tightened. That night would have cost you working electricity and water had it not been for the senior caregiver work you did in the early mornings to mid-afternoons. Still, when you opened the door of your townhome, there was a redi-seal packet brimmed with crumpled cash and a scrawled message which stated, “For your performance and the dry cleaners.”

You swore you spotted a figure disappearing on the rooftops after you received the parcel.

Now, in present day, waitpersons cross your vision as they gather your tip envelopes with written amounts and your mind is back in Bastard once more, the applause battering the air reaching you. You fumble, sending a glance toward the framed portrait in memory of Sherry. You could almost hear her teasing as you make a rather gauche departure and strut down the polished, marble stairs backstage. Your stilettos clack against the floor and you shift your body to the side to bypass a group of entertainers waiting for Galahad to complete his introduction.

It shouldn't come to me as a surprise. Benriya had become the hot topic of Ergastulum, hired by everyone and anyone who desired their expertise whether that be to replace the old, dusty filters of a venting system in your home or to get rid of another sleazy jackass exploiting your claimed territories to get rich quick. Perhaps the pair were the hired guns for tonight's soirée as a fill-in.

You head to the restroom since the green rooms are crowded. As you study your reflection in the mirror, you relish in the fruits of your labor for a while, almost feeling remorseful when you have to remove the rhinestones and false lashes. You wash the tacky residue from your eyelids and cheeks and peel off the colored full lace wig, undoing the cornrows for tomorrow morning—or today since it's a quarter past midnight.

You eventually decide to acknowledge the shadow you caught in the mirror leaning by the restroom door as you wipe at your stubborn lipstick.

“Not allowed backstage,” you sing, pulling your suitcase from the out-of-order stall to find a coat to throw over your corseted frame. “Disrupts and puts the performers at risk.”

It happened a few years or so ago. Some deadbeat motherfucker beneath the guise of someone’s boyfriend helping performers with their luggage of costumes and makeup lured an exhausted woman to an abandoned greenroom under renovations at that time and attempted to assault her. It was you and a few others who heard her muffled cries and restrained him until security arrived and dealt out the rest with a strenuous beating while you all stayed to console the woman, offering some water and airing her with your Marabou fans. Since then, Mr. Cristiano prohibited anyone from backstage besides the entertainers and bouncers, doubling the safety tenfold and offering his apologies, and taking accountability.

The creases in between your brows soften at the faint memory of the mob boss. He’d always joked he’d only see you around Bastard when you were there to run his pocket dry for your burlesque performances. How could you ever forget the grin on his scarred lip and his eyes smiling along with him?

Nicolas signs curtly as he does, tugging you from your brief remembrance. “I’m working security.”

Guessed right. You hadn't seen Aldo all evening, an old churlish but giant teddy bear of a bouncer.

You turn to Nicolas, a hand stuffed in your coat, face damp and fresh, taking strides until you're only inches apart, the scent of ginger taffy, Paradise mints, Perrier lime, and copper overtaking you. He breathes you in too, chest caving into his sternum, never missing the way his eyes line the shape of yours. You roll them, scoffing with a caustic smile. It was so like him to dance around and to create hurdle after hurdle, denying himself. After all, what audacity did he have, he'd say. He was just some dog.

“You need to be careful,” Nicolas begins, tearing his orbs away and gazing into the crevices of the tiled walls.

You were a neutral employee yourself. You perform in most territories which include Corsican domains and, though you weren't particularly well-liked by other performers and the occasional club owner, you were undoubtedly well-received. You never were there to make nice with their intolerant faces, to make friends. The only thing that mattered to you was yourself. You were there to dance, to act, to display. To do what you adored, to be a tease, and to get paid—and believe it, you were worth every damn rack and no insufferable asshole could negate that.

It's funny though. The bigoted public of Corsicans hold themselves in such high regard and yet the most respect and human decency thereof you’ve gotten were in Twilight-safe zones. Remarks like “Twilight-fucker” or “Twilights favorite pussy” (while still being able to spur the crowds on, mind you) as you brushed past scowling groups after another performance, weren't exactly polite.

But, hell, Uranos Corsica— as much as he abhorred even the vaguest whisper of Twights— didn't bat an eye on your works in his territory. You did increase the popularity and revenue at his businesses he must confess and you were “a Normal”—you roll those eyes of yours hard— Thus, you continued your job.

Besides, Worick, who tells people that you belonged to the sword-wielding Twilight as he does with every woman he comes to appreciate, must’ve put the fear of God in people when he paraded this around at Big Mamas. And though his habit was originally intended to protect his work as a Gigolo, with that alarming piece of information, most people were talking out of their asses when they made their threats.

You are casual-spirited and pert, not stupid. Never that. You never walking late hours alone was standing proof you were prudent and conscious about the scorn carbonating in the abdomen of Ergastulum. That hatred was why you frequently found the small number of acquaintances and colleagues you had six feet under at funerals, rather than six hundred feet under the luminous explosions of fireworks in the night sky on New Year's Eve.

There's a honk coming from Bastard’s exterior and he blinks when you vanish after you eye him again, tilting your head slightly and cooing, “Oh, thank you, baby, but I can take care of myself.”

It's the way you sigh every syllable like it's a sweet, rich glaze— practiced. It’s only a force of habit, but the gouge is prevalent in his chest.

He’d become clientele.

He rushes after you and young Marco Adriano scrambles for the mop he places on the wall, you laugh incredulously, “Naughty lil boy, don't let me catch you doing that again,” as he attempts to look productive after eavesdropping. Nicolas sees the sleek, vintage ivory limousine and there's a titled, well-groomed man in his senior kissing the apple of your cheek as you sit in the backseat beside him with your hands on his chest while the chauffeur handles your luggage. The gouge widens, gushing in the air and onto the ground when a salt and pepper-haired face and head feathers you. You smile a smile so authentic with your hand draped over his chest, Nicolas nearly staggers from the significance and weight you carry behind it.

You’re chattering about your performance as the elderly man asks you about it exuberantly and if you’re supposed to notice Nicolas, you don’t. Not until “Dear, Old” Mogavero clashes his eyes against his. Brown doesn't move to hide, neither does he falter in his stance. And as he stares at one of the most influential men in Ergastulum, his eyes narrow.

“Benriya,” He smiles, eyes crinkling and Nico hopes to find a semblance of malice or dishonesty. “I'll have to place a request for work to be done at my place sometime.”

“Do you even want to keep that house?” You say. You hadn't experienced their exploits personally but Chad Adkins's complaints and the gossip of others in the city made you well aware of the collateral damages they’ve caused at times.

He throws his head back with crinkled hazel brown eyes, a gums-and-all laughter booming through the alleyways. Some passing heads turn to look at him like he's a madman, but he doesn't care and doesn't offer a sheepish little apology.

“Just need a hand with the water heater.” He says and nudges his head toward Brown. “Can't have this little lady and the others hauling ass to heat some water for a bath, eh? What do you say? Wouldn't be too much trouble for you boys, right?”

“None, Mr. Mogavero,” Nicolas replies, his voice rumbles when he does. “But I’ll have to take it up with my contractor.”

There's a nippy silence and he sees the way your jaw clenches at the word, the way you swallow. You hadn't heard that in a while, but he hadn't forgotten the way it made you twitch.

“Ah, no, that's okay.” The elderly man clears his throat with a cough. “I'll call you when I don't have company, yeah?”

He nods in understanding and you gaze at him over your shoulder before the chauffeur closes the door. The vehicle spurs away from the cobblestone forefront of Bastard with fumes, the lights of the club radiating his shoulders and casting shadows over his dark eyes. His hand instinctively grips the red thread draped across his sword at his hips. He lets the thread slide through his fingers until it softly caresses the sides of his thighs and when he looks, the rear lights of the limousine flash when it stops at the end of the road before fading into the night at the next street.

Nicolas turns and enters Bastard once more, eyeing Worick who makes himself, leaning against the entrance with crossed arms.

Nothing but a dog, Nicolas looks away and thinks, feeling content. It's no use for any of it. Don't try to act human—

—monster.

#nicolas brown x reader #gangsta nicolas brown #gangsta nicolas #nicolas brown #worick arcangelo #gangsta anime #gangsta #gangsta worick #gangsta x reader #kohske

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godlizzza · 6 months

Note

I was torn between Coffinshipping and Danbert but I'm gonna choose Danbert because it convenient for you "Imagine Me & You" fic~

Can i request a possessive fic of Danbert? And Herbert is the one who being possessive here.

Thank you so much and plz write whenever you can or have time, I am super appreciated! 🥰

Herbert was gone all of two minutes.

He left Dan with their bags while he went inside in search of someone who could tell them what to do now that their bus had been delayed. His German was rusty but he had a hell of a lot easier time than Dan loudly repeating himself in English, using more rudimentary words with every attempt to get the non-English speaking Swiss workers to understand him. Their travels through Bern were proving to be more working and less holiday.

Herbert paced back to the terminal, their new itinerary scribbled down in his notebook. He glanced up from the page and nearly got run over by a family trailing bulbous suitcases. He barely noticed; he was too busy seething at the sight of a woman chatting animatedly with Dan, smiling up at him and touching his arm. Long blonde hair spilled out from beneath her pageboy hat, which she kept twirling around her finger as she laughed at whatever Dan was saying.

Dan looked slightly bewildered, no doubt having trouble following her broken English. As Herbert stomped closer, he could make out the tail end of her sentence.

"-so cool. I love America." She accentuated love with a squeeze to Dan's bicep, and Herbert nearly chewed right through his tongue.

"Oh, yeah, it's great," Dan replied, scratching at the back of his neck but still keeping his smile in place. "This is my first time outside of America."

Gretel or Heidi or whatever the fuck her name was, grinned at Dan. "You come with me? I can show der Schweiz you-"

"Why are you bothering him?" Herbert barked at her in German, finally slipping up to Dan's side and into her field of vision. "Go find some other tourist to proposition."

She blinked in surprise at his sudden appearance, then frowned as she swept her gaze over him. Doubtless, she was trying to piece his non-European appearance with his crisp German.

"And who are you?" she asked rudely, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Herbert bared his teeth in a feral grin and hugged Dan's arm, tugging him close to his side. "I'm his client. He's a hooker I'm paying to fuck and follow me around. So, unless you've got a few spare thousand Euros, I'd back off."

All the haughty snark instantly vanished from her face, leaving behind only mortification. She slowly backed away, eyes darting between the two of them, before she murmured an apology, turned tail and ran, quickly disappearing into the crowd. Herbert smiled after her, keeping his grip on Dan's arm, satisfaction filling him like a glass of warm milk.

"What just happened?" Dan asked, head whipping back and forth between Herbert and the shadow of the girl. He narrowed his eyes down at Herbert. "What did you say to her? She was just being friendly."

"I didn't say anything," Herbert replied sweetly, nuzzling his cheek into Dan's shoulder. "I just told her we were very busy."

Dan sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "I hate not being able to understand everything. You could be saying anything. Telling people I'm a drug dealer or something."

"I would never do something like that," Herbert said solemnly before releasing Dan's arm and squatting down to grab his suitcase. He started off in the direction of their terminal and nodded for Dan to follow. "Now, come on. We've got a bus to catch."

"As soon as we get to the apartment, I'm taking a nap," Dan groaned as he paced after Herbert, his roller suitcase sliding along the linoleum floor.

#if i get enough hoffstrahm prompts i can make a similar thing collecting them all together too!#but of course ill never turn away danbert haha #danbert #dan cain #herbert west #re-animator #reanimator #asks #my fics #writing prompt

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atinylittlepain · 2 months

Text

Part One

climbing expeditionist!steve harrington x f!oc

series masterlist

Past, present, and future dance and daunt in the shadows of Mount Everest. He just wants to get home. She just wants him home.

chapter warnings | 18+ angst, pregnancy, commentary on eco-tourism, steve is a little depresso at 17,000 feet

word count | 3.4K

a/n | this fic is pure self-indulgence, as a climber who thought they'd one day summit everest, and then realized it's been ruined by eco-tourism! anyways, parts of this fic closely follow the 1996 everest climbing disaster, with many key changes. thanks for reading, there's a fun little treat at the end too.

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

March 1996 - Colorado

“You’re gonna be late if you stick around any longer.”

“Don’t worry about that, honey. I’ll run if I have to, just give me a few more minutes with you.” He doesn’t get nervous, she knows, not about these things. He gets charming, all slanted smiles and soft touches, sneaking kisses as he rocks in the soles of his boots, plane ticket tucked between index and middle finger.

But she gets nervous. Even when they do these things together, let alone now with her staying behind and sending him off. Like watching her heart slip from her ribcage and tiptoe out onto a highwire with no net. With no net. So she gets nervous, and she tries to hide it from him, though she can feel her smile starting to slip the longer she stands here in the airport, throngs of people passing by in cloistered chaos.

“Did Robin make it out there alright?”

“Yeah, got a fax from her this morning, she’s already at basecamp getting stuff set up with the local guides. Hey, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“Jo.”

“Steve.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and his hands curling over her forearms, leaning in, and in, and in, until his forehead is pressed against hers and she can no longer see the arrivals board, the people rushing by with suitcases and backpacks. Just him, and his smile that is everything, long hair like a curtain around them. She takes two deep breaths, smelling him, the badger balm he rubs into his hands and good clean soap from the shower he took that morning. And she wills herself to hold onto that scent, to tuck it somewhere safe in her mind, and this too, the soft warble of his voice when he asks her can I get one more kiss, please? Never saying no to that, a sweet simple one, followed by another with a little more want, little more ache behind it. He’ll have a beard the next time she sees him, she knows, but for now there’s just the slightest scratch of stubble when she presses her lips against his.

“Please don’t worry too much about me.” And that makes her laugh, though it tightens and changes into something bordering on a sob, a high, clipped sound, shake of her head, her forehead still against his, and she has to, she has to take the step back, create that space, has to let go for now. He doesn’t abide by that, hands curling around her biceps, come back, come back, one more minute. He’s wearing his wedding ring on a chain around his neck, too many close calls losing it in the snow, in pulling off a mitten, in the chaos of what he does, what they do. She hooks her finger through it and pulls, a young part of her wishing that’d be enough magic to make him stay.

“I don’t care what time it is there or here, you call me when you get to Kathmandu, and to Lukla, and to base, okay?”

“Of course I will, and you have the fax number. Gonna send me the scans?” His hand coming to rest over the slight swell of her stomach, still new, the small, hard curve of it, but there, but there. She feels like she might be sick, though she’s not sure why, not sure if it’s the pregnancy, or something else.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll send them over. But seriously, you better go.” They both sigh, both say love to each other, quiet and close, and then it’s catch and release, him walking toward security, beautiful boy, beautiful world of a person in his corduroy pants rolled at the ankles and a new fleece that she stitched a stupidly sweet heart into the tag of, a little thread of luck, and his pack that he prides himself on keeping so light. She snuck a few extra clif bars into one of the side pockets, a different kind of nesting, preparing for a departure instead of an arrival. He looks over his shoulder at her one more time, wire rimmed glasses glinting, one more smile, and then he’s gone in the push and pull of the crowd.

She knows the trip he’s about to take well, after all, she has done it five times herself. This will be his sixth. He’ll spend a night and a day in Kathmandu, gathering up the group of people who have enough money to pay him to be their guide. Eddie will be there too, his usual self, aviators and absurdly underdressed, and if there’s a woman in this season’s group, she'll swoon and yes, recognize him from the cover of Outside Magazine, climbing’s resident bad boy, according to the journalist that wrote the piece. They’ll be brilliant together, Steve and Eddie, capable, holding court over a shared dinner before their flight to Lukla the next morning, the group listening in quiet reverence as Steve talks about the death zone, and Eddie’s favorite line, when we hit 26 thou, we will literally be dying, so remember how much you paid to be here.

He calls her that night, a day ahead now, catches her mid-afternoon and tells her that he has a good feeling about this group. No bullshitters, no brass either as far as I can tell. Brass, the big talkers, usually Americans that have decided this trip, this thing, is their self-given right. Brass, usually the first to turn around. She tells him that the crib was delivered, and he asks her if she’ll wait to put it together, he’d like to help when he gets back. Of course, she says, of course she’ll wait for him.

A week and a half goes by before she hears from him again. She doesn’t know whether to be pissed or utterly paralyzed with fear. Robin faxes her, tells her he’s bringing the group to base, and that he asked her to tell her he’s sorry he didn’t call. And later, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, the petty part of her briefly considers letting it go to voicemail. She picks up and the first thing he offers her is an apology.

“I couldn’t find a fucking phone where we were staying.”

“I didn’t know what was happening, Steve, I can’t– you promised me.” The sentence fizzles out, she feels small saying it. What did he promise her? What can be promised in an environment, in a place that stands upon uncertainty? But still, he promised her a few things before he left, promised communication, promised coming home, and promised never doing it again, shutting down the outfit, no more of this. And she’s not sure he knew what it meant to make those promises, ones that can be so easily broken.

“It’s not gonna happen again, Josie, I promise. We made it to base, by the way, all good, all safe.” As if on cue, she hears Robin first, hey, Jo! Followed by Eddie’s not the same without you, Joey! Tinny voices made small by all the distance, and she realizes that while part of her misses the place, the process of it all, it’s the people she aches for, good people, good friends, a little crazy, but in the same way she is, and the same way Steve is. But he doesn’t seem too interested in sharing her with them, and she can’t blame him when every minute of this phone call costs twenty-five dollars.

“I’m glad you made it, how does it look this year?”

“Crowded, I swear there’s more outfits every year. It’s gonna be a cluster summiting with all these bodies.”

“Hmm, you’re always good at getting the jump though.”

“I try. How– how are you feeling? Doctor next Friday, right?”

“My Friday, your Saturday, yeah. We’re doing alright, they’ve been kicking actually.”

“Really?” Pure wonder crackling over the phone, his voice lifting and breathless, making tight heat curl up in her throat, behind her eyes. Of course, she wishes he were here, and of course, she thinks of the stories every year of wives leaving their husbands because they won’t stop chasing mountains.

When she told her friends, her family, that he was still heading out to lead another group, they had looked horrified at the idea. But she also knows it’s a particular situation they’re in. Unplanned, unexpected, but decidedly wanted, by the time they found out she was pregnant, payments had already been made, plane tickets booked, nonrefundable. Clients that know how to throw all of their weight around, very important people with very important wallets giving him their very important money to take them on this very important trip. And so they had to decide some things. Decided that two months out of nine wasn’t all that bad, that five successes couldn’t have just been luck, and that a sixth couldn’t be asking too much more. Thinking these things is different than feeling them, she is now realizing, listening to his voice get caught in static and wind as he tells her how much he loves her and that he’ll talk to her again soon, get some sleep, honey, I love you.

Yes, different to think about it, plan for it, than to feel it. The bedroom is dark, perfectly silent, perfectly still. She begins to cry with the catch of the phone in the receiver.

…

March, 1990 - base camp

“Who’s that?”

“Who?”

“That chick with Art’s group.”

“Don’t point, Steven, we’re all friends here. And that’s Jo Taylor, I met her at the airport, real nice, real cool. Also, requisite reminder that fucking at altitude is contraindicated.”

“Thanks, Rob, yeah, thank you for that reminder.” Robin’s already off as he grumbles, already introducing herself to other strangers weaving in between brightly colored tents and packs. It’s not lost on him that she and Jo are the only two women at base camp, and he’s having a hard time not staring at this woman he’s never met before. Close-cropped hair and flickering hands, sharp, and she seems to have no trouble holding court with her crew, checking over gear, tanks of oxygen, things he should be doing right now, though he’s still stuck staring at her.

Up here, it’s somehow both bitingly cold and quick to heat with the sun bouncing and bending over the snow, prayer flags pulled taut on lines in the thin air. Everyone has stripped down to base layers, faces whipped raw by the wind, Eddie walking around in a bright orange pair of Patagonia baggies and little else, steaming thermos in hand. And this girl, woman, person, Jo, in a Talking Heads t-shirt and an unzipped shell and leggings, and even with her reflective sunglasses on he can tell the exact moment when she catches him staring at her, her head tilting to the side, slight pull of her brow. He’s walking toward her, crunching over rocks and snow before he can think too hard about how she doesn’t really look interested in making friends with him.

“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met.” He gives her his name with a hand extended, and she takes it, if not a bit stiff, skeptical, offering him her name in return with her hip popped to the side. He watches his own nervous smile in the reflection of her sunglasses.

“You’re here with Art’s team, right?”

“I am, yeah. And you’re here with Robin?”

“And Ed, he’s, well, you’ve probably met him.”

“Oh yeah, we all know Munson. No oxygen on Mont Blanc is pretty impressive, or maybe stupid.”

“I’d say both.” Her smile glints in the sun, a little stunner of a thing and he knows he’d like to see it again.

“Both is probably accurate. I knew who you were too, by the way, you didn’t have to introduce yourself like that.”

“You did?”

“Of course, men’s speed record for El Cap. That’s just impressive if you ask me.”

“Men’s? As opposed to–”

“Women’s.”

“I didn’t know there was a women’s speed record for El Cap.” Her smile slants and she pushes her sunglasses up into her hair, eyes crinkling and squinting in the wind and the sun.

“There is, I hold it.”

“Oh, oh, I didn’t– you– I didn’t mean to–” Foot in his mouth and it might as well be down his throat with the way he’s stumbling over his words. She grins, gives his shoulder a squeeze and a shake.

“You’re fine, man, really, just teasing you a little. Is this your first time on Everest?”

“Yeah, you?” He’s not even standing that close to her, but he still notices a freckle somewhere between the round of her cheek and her eye, watches it jump with her smile. She nods, a glance over his shoulder to what awaits them in these next few weeks. A slog, a perfectly graceless suffering. A climb, a brilliant, beautiful thing.

“I’ll see you out on the Icefall, Harrington. It’s nice to meet you.”

…

March 1996 - base camp

“That reporter packed out a fucking espresso maker, can you believe this shit? It’s like goddamn Disney world up here.” Eddie says it just loud enough to garner him a few turned heads as he slumps down in his chair next to Steve, making quick work out of a mug full of instant ramen.

“I wouldn’t worry about her, Art will get her sorted out before they make it to camp two. I’m just worried there’s gonna be a jam up there. You ever think you’d see the day there’s a line to summit? Because right now, it’s looking like that’s exactly what we’re gonna have on our hands.”

“Any thoughts on how to avoid that?” He hums, pinching off another bite of his clif bar and working his jaw around it, looking out on what seems to be a veritable sea of tents. At least fifteen outfits this year, and all the ragtag debris they entail, lost-looking group members that probably have no business being up here, already hacking into the elbows of their expensive-looking jackets, camping chairs getting knocked over in the wind, boots tucked outside of tents, the sound and smells of human intervention in an otherwise silent landscape.

“I do, Rob’s not gonna like it though.”

“What am I not gonna like?” A hand on his shoulder, and then a face leaning upside-down over his, almost alien in her round, mirrored sunglasses.

“Do you know if the other outfits are planning for May tenth?”

“Yeah, as far as I know, same as us. Why?” Easy, all of them easy together, Robin sits down between their chairs, carabiner hooked full of keys jangling at her belt loop. She takes a bite of Eddie’s ramen when he offers her the fork and Eddie grins over the top of her head at Steve, cheshire bright in his thermal and leggings, and suddenly, he thinks, they’re sixteen again, driving cross country to go climb in Yellowstone with a few months worth of part-time job savings split between them.

“Stevie here wants to be first in line on the Everest Express.”

“It’s not about being first, it’s about not wanting people stuck up there longer than they need to be. If we could just get a couple days–”

“No.”

“Rob–”

“No, Steve. Everybody wants May tenth for a reason. The weather is looking good–”

“The weather is unpredictable and you know it.”

“And, these people need those days to get ready. You start shaving off days and that’s less time they’ll have been at altitude for the last push. This is just the way it is this year, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, and it’s getting worse every year. I really think we’re getting out at the right time, you know, picked the right year to have our last season.” Robin huffs, unfolding her legs and standing back up, shading them from the sun for a moment as she brushes off her cargo pants and runs a hand back through her hair.

“Look, I’ll take another pass at the weather. Maybe, and that’s a big maybe, we could swing May eighth. But I make no promises.” And then she’s off, wielding her walkie-talkie like a scepter, already rearranging plans in her mind as she ducks back into their comms tent.

He knows he’s frustrating her, bitching about everything, scowling about everything. Eddie had said as much during the first night at base, why are you being such a downer? We’re on a fucking mountain, at least sell it to the customers, man. And he’s right, they’re on a fucking mountain, and it’s beautiful, and it’s brutal, and it’s all the things he’s loved since he started backpacking as a kid. And there are good moments, there are, moments of looking out onto the landscape, the steep tumbling snow and gray slate crags, witchery in the dance and daunt of ice, the near painfully blue sky that can turn dark and mean in a breath. Moments of true awe, and still, still, he knows that he shouldn’t be here, not really.

Last year, there was a man in their outfit from Texas, brass. Steve can’t remember his name now, but what he can remember is what he admitted to the night before they headed out from base. Everyone had laughed except for Jo and the one other woman who was in their group, when the man confessed that he had forgotten to tell his wife he’d be gone for two months in the spring. And it had been Jo who had plainly asked him if he had any kids, her chin jutted, arms crossed over her chest, her usual all-smiles-all-jokes-but-all-business-lead-guide facade slipping away into something steely, something cold and unamused. Yes, the man had said, two, a boy and a girl. He doesn’t remember much more of that conversation, just that Jo excused herself early from dinner, and when he returned to their tent a little while later, she was already asleep with her back turned to him.

“You alright?”

“I don’t know, Ed. I’ll be good to lead though, that’s not a problem.”

“I didn’t ask if you’ll be good to lead, I asked if you’re alright.” Something tight turns in his chest, he keeps his eyes down on his hands, folding and unfolding the empty clif bar wrapper.

“Yes, no, I knew it was gonna be hard, but this is fucking– something else.” Eddie leans forward, elbows on his knees, brow furrowed, and he’s nodding, and it’s a look of concern. Steve hates it, never the one needing concern, never the one to be concerned about. The leader, right, level-headed, right, no need for concern.

“You talk to Jo today?”

“Last night, she asked if you packed out sticks of butter again this year.”

“Pfft, of course, a little American comfort at seventeen thousand feet goes a long way. How is she?”

“Doing alright, I think. Had the twenty-week scan on Friday.” He can’t help but smile thinking about it, and Eddie mirrors him, grin spreading and brows raising, oh yeah?

“She found out if it’s a boy or a girl, but she said she’s not gonna tell me until I get home.”

“Well, how about that for a little motivation, huh? I have to admit though, I miss her this year, not the same without her.” Eddie’s smile softens, slighter, sadder, a hand on Steve’s shoulder, and he feels his own face slacken, the ache returning.

“No, it’s not.” Not letting him fall for long, Eddie gracelessly shrugs his chair closer, arm hooking around Steve’s shoulders, cheek to cheek as he starts pointing out their clients.

“But, think of it this way–” He points to one man, him, another, him, one more, and him.

“Add those three up and you got yourself a nice little college fund.” At the very least, it feels good to laugh, resting his temple on Eddie’s shoulder, letting the sun be the sun, and the moment be the moment.

“Can’t argue with that.”

“We’re gonna climb that fucking thing on the eighth, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I think we are.”

“I’m with you all the way, man.” He holds his hand out for Steve, and it’s a relief, he finds, to clasp his hand, to hold onto something. And Eddie’s one last send? His smile turning young and slanted, a little wild. Steve nods. One last send.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au #steve harrington imagine #honey baby love you be home soon

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elisysd · 7 months

Text

10. Way Down We Go

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Way down we go - KALEO

Stepping out of the taxi, in front of the airport, Julia took a deep breath. She was supposed to be excited. She was flying to Baku, in Azerbaijan, for one of her favorite races of the season.She always had good memories there from the time when she was going, with her mom to watch her dad racing there. He knew the corners like the back of his hands and she did too. Baku had always been her favorite track to race on her dad’s simulator. She liked the narrow corners and how there was no room for mistakes. It was fast and precise. She knew that qualifying was going to be important there as, like on every city track, it was hard to overtake.

She dragged her suitcase to the check in before heading towards the security and then the gate where her dad was waiting for her. Although she was dreading to see him, she had hoped he would be alone and was slightly disappointed to notice Elijah and Martin were there. She didn’t want either of them to witness her conversation with her dad. When she saw him on the tarmac, she felt like a little girl all over again. He was looking at her with his blue green eyes and she swore she could feel a certain coldness in them, one that she was never the one to receive. She gulped and braced herself.

“No boyfriend around?” Charles asked.

“Dad…please can we talk about it?”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ve never meant to hide it from you. It happened so fast and I’m still not sure if we can put a label on what’s going on between Ethan and I. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone before being absolutely sure of what I was feeling.”

He nodded but his jaw was still tense.

“I want to see him.”

“Dad…”

“I just want him to know that I’m not giving my daughter away to the first guy that comes around. He will have to prove he is worthy of you.”

“And here we go… What are you going to do?”

“A karting race? Him against I. He wins, I back off and leave you alone. I win, he will feel my breath on his neck for the foreseeable future.” Charles explained, a proud grin on his face.

“You know he has no chance against you.”

Charles shrugged and smiled brightly. He was proud of his idea. And even if Julia hated how her dad was acting all over protective with her, she couldn’t help but smile. She would pay good money to witness something like that. They boarded the plane and Julia decided to sit at the back, wanting a little peace and quiet to work on some data and prepare the best setup for the cars. She put her headphones on and as she was logging in on her laptop, she saw a shadow towering over her. Martin was there, two coffees in his hands, one she assumed for him and the other for her.

“Cappuccino?” he asked with a sweet smile on his face.

“Is it oat milk?”

“Well, no.”

“I’m lactose intolerant. Sorry. But my dad is not, I’m sure he could use a coffee.”

She was not. She loved coffee and she hated oat milk. But even if she hated the idea to admit it, Ethan was right. She couldn’t get too close to other drivers especially when there might be underlying feelings other than friendship in the mind of the Ferrari's driver.Entertaining whatever there could be between them was a bad idea and a very dangerous game to play. She knew that it took Martin by surprise, probably did he expect a warm smile and thank you. But even if she appreciated Martin, she had to set some limits. She refused to look at him, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to tell him to sit down and to talk to her. She wanted to be his friend but she also knew that people around them and the media would never interpret it that way. Better not risk anything, she thought. She put back her headphone on and tried to forget the world around her.

On the opposite side of the plane, Charles couldn’t help but look at his daughter, so engrossed in her work as if nothing could phase her. She was growing up. She was not his little girl anymore. He was proud of her; she was everything he had ever hoped she would be. She didn’t need him anymore, she didn’t need his approval and admitting it felt like ripping his heart open. He was not ready for that. And he knew that his behavior was only making her drift further away from him. Guilt was eating him inside, he already had a difficult relationship with his son, he didn’t want to let down his daughter. So he did what he usually did when he felt unsure about something and needed help, he called his wife.

“I was wondering how long you would take before calling me to complain.” she said to him after he finished sharing his thoughts about Julia and Ethan.

“I’m not complaining. You know how much Julia’s happiness is important to me. I want what’s best for her.”

“She has a boyfriend Charles, you act like your world is falling apart. Let her live her life.”

“I can’t help but feel the need to protect her, Lya.”

“She is not a kid anymore, Charles! You don’t have to protect her from all the cruel things on earth anymore.” she argued.

“She is my little girl, Lya. She is my baby.”

“And she will always be. Always. You will always be the first person she will come to whenever there is something wrong. You are her dad. But you have to let her grow up.”

“I don’t want her to grow up. I’m not ready to let her grow up.”

“I’m not either. It scares me. But the good thing is, we can be scared together.”

“I don’t like Ethan.”

“You like Ethan. You don't like the fact that he likes Julia.”

“True,” he confessed after a short while.

After a few hours of flight, Julia was happy to exit the plane as soon as it landed. She needed to escape, she needed some air, she needed to be far away from her dad, and far away from the guilty feeling she was getting when she was near him. So as soon as she left the Baku airport and said her goodbyes to the Ferrari’s Team Principal and teammates, her head was set on trying to make her mind forget all about the guilt and the lies. Her plan was to drop her suitcases in her room, put on some gym clothes and go for a run. But feeling how hot Baku was, she had to rethink it. She wouldn’t last ten minutes under the bright sun. Thankfully her hotel had a gym that had a view on the whole city. It was almost six in the evening and she was not expecting to see anyone. So when she stepped in the room and saw that it was occupied she almost wanted to go back to her room. It was not for nothing that she hated going to the gym and was avoiding it whenever she could. She hated the judgemental look some people could give and she hated having to think about giving space on the machine to others. Running was a way to quiet the voices in her head and to calm her down. Gyms were stressing her out.

She stayed in the opening of the door trying to see if the guy that was working out was going to leave at some point. She didn’t take long before recognising Ethan. Of course, who else would work out without a shirt on. She rolled her eyes and shook her head more by reflex than true annoyance. A part of her couldn’t help but stare at him as he was doing core strength exercises, all his muscles contracting. He was good looking, Julia couldn’t deny it. Being a professional athlete definitely changed his body for the better. Julia suddenly felt hot and it had nothing to do with the outside temperature. And as if he felt her presence, Ethan finally looked up and straight in her direction. She felt herself blush.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer Joolsie.” he finally said with a half-smile.

“That line is outdated, you know. It has been unanimously decided by the entire women population.”

He silently laughed and took a step towards her, looking her straight in the eyes as if he was the hunter and she was the prey. He bent down and Julia could feel his breath on her. She slightly gasped when she felt his left arm brushing past hers.

“Can you move Joolsie? I need to take my water bottle.”

It was enough to pull her out of her trance. She moved to the side and headed for the treadmill as far as possible of where Ethan was working out. She still felt his gaze on her and she was sure he was smirking. She could feel it. She tied her hair tighter and started to run. If she closed her eyes hard enough she could almost swear that she was alone. But it was without counting on the idiotic Maserati’s driver who decided that annoying her was much more interesting than sticking to his workout routine. She felt his presence next to her and soon, as she opened her eyes and stared in the window’s reflection, she saw Ethan running next to her, his gaze fixed on her, grinning.

“Don’t you have other exercises to do?”

“I need to work on my cardio.” he shrugged.

She shook her head and tried to focus again on her run but it was pointless, with Ethan next to her it was almost impossible. She moved on to some stretching as Ethan took place, again, next to her. He was in a mood to annoy her.

“Julia?” he asked after a while.

“What do you want?”

“I need to do some lifts.”

“Go ahead.”

“Can I lift you?”

She almost tripped and fell. She looked at him, an eyebrow arched and saw that he was completely serious.

“I need some challenge.” he added as it was totally normal.

“No. You are not going to lift me.” she simply answered.

“Lovely how you seem to think that I’m giving you the choice.”

She didn’t have the time to reply that Ethan caught snaked an arm around her waist and the other behind her knees and effortlessly lifted her as Julia tried her best to wiggle her way out of his grip.

“Strengthen your core Julia for fuck’s sake! I’m going to fall!” warned Ethan.

“I’ve never asked for that! Let me down!”

“Stop moving so much! Stay still.”

And what was bound to happen, happened. Ethan lost his balance and his grip on the young woman. As he tried to soften their inevitable fall, he felt his right elbow hit Julia in her ribs, eliciting a yelp from her. They were both on their asses, now and Julia was grimacing, rubbing her left side in order to soothe the pain. Ethan felt immediately guilty and was quick to get up, stretching his hand so Julia could take it. She was still holding her left side and Ethan gulped. It was a stupid idea and a very good way to introduce himself as Julia’s boyfriend to her dad. Sure, he would score points with the Ferrari’s team principal that way.

“I’m sorry Julia. I didn’t think…”

“Yeah! Maybe that’s your problem, Ethan. You don’t think and you don’t listen. Shit, that hurts.”

“I think I have some cream against bruises, in my bag.” he said as he ruffled in his sport bag, desperately trying to find what he was searching for and letting out a victory cry when he finally got a hold of it.

“I think you did enough.”

“Take it, apply it as soon as possible if you want to prevent the bruise from appearing. I always have one tube with me. My mom insists on it and it’s very effective you’ll see.” he explained, apologizing once again.

Julia ended up taking it and thanked him before leaving the room. She was mortified and the only thing she wanted was to crawl in her bed and forget the incident.

The weekend was going to be really hot, Julia thought, arriving early in the paddock for the Free Practices, a box of pastries under her arm. They were her dad’s favorites and she hoped that it would make him less angry and disappointed in her. She made her way towards the Ferrari’s hospitality, in search of her dad. It didn’t matter that she had her Skoda’s jacket, the team let her through without questions and Julia thought that she really had to talk to her dad about that. Even if everybody knew she was his daughter, she was still from another team and she shouldn’t have easy access to the garage. She found her dad talking with the director of strategy. She didn’t want to interrupt and so she waited in a corner. As soon as Charles saw his daughter he stopped his conversation and walked to her. Julia only had the time to put the pastries on the side before being engulfed in a bear hug.

“Dad…”

“I’m sorry, Ju’. I don’t want to be that kind of dad. It’s just…”

“It’s fine, dad. I’m not mad.”

“It’s not fine. You are an adult and you can make your own decisions and I should be here supporting you, it’s just… admitting you are growing up is admitting that I might not have the same place in your life and it hurts.” he confessed.

“Thank you. For telling me that.” she didn’t know what to add, she had never been one to express her feelings.

“I’m just scared. I’ve started to read things in the press and…”

“I don’t care about the tabloids, dad. I know my worth and nothing they can publish will change that. I’m not even reading them.”

“It will be worse when they will know that you are dating Ethan.”

Julia shrugged. She knew that it would be bad but it would be a cross she would cross when she would get there. She didn’t want to think about it. She would be forced to, soon enough.

“I just don’t want to see you mad at me. I don’t like it.”

“I could never be mad at you, Ju’. Never. That’s your mom’s job, not mine.She is the bad cop and I’m the nice one.”

Julia playfully punched her dad’s shoulder to which he reciprocated a little too hard, making Julia lose her balance. In the attempt to stay on her feet, she moved her body a bit too fast, waking up the pain in her rib. She had applied Ethan’s cream and it made wonders, there was a bruise but it was light. She definitely expected worse. But it still hurt. Seeing her daughter’s face and her hand going automatically to her left side made Charles frown.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“All good. It’s just that Ethan and I have been stupid and my rib is hurting a little bit and… wait dad? Where are you going?”

She saw her dad making his way towards the exit of the garage and followed him. He was heading to the Maserati’s garage, of course, she thought, and she regretted mentioning the incident. She tried to stop him, telling him that it was not bad, that they were just playing and had not been careful enough. Ethan felt bad enough about it, he didn't want Charles to scold him or go full dad’s mode on him. But Charles didn’t care and didn’t seem to listen to her.

As they approached the Maserati’s garage, Julia tried to make huge signs with her arms in an attempt to catch Ethan’s attention and to warn him. He finally noticed her as he was talking to his race engineer. He excused himself and went to her, his hands in his pockets. And then he saw how Charles looked grumpy and he knew that he was screwed.

“Charles? Julia?”

“It’s Mr. Leclerc from now on for you Ethan. Did you really think that I wouldn’t learn about you and my daughter? Did you sincerely think that you could go behind my back and date her without my permission? And most importantly, how dare you hurt her?”

“Dad! Leave him alone!”

Ethan would have laughed if he had not had so much respect for Charles. Instead, he suppressed a smile that was threatening to form on his lips. Right now was not the time.

“I’ve been careless, I’m sorry about that but Julia shouldn’t have moved so much. It wouldn’t have happened.”

“It shouldn’t have happened indeed.” confirm Charles.

People were starting to look at them, making Julia uncomfortable.She stepped in front of Charles and asked him to take a step back. So much for wanting to control the narrative about her and Ethan’s relationship. Charles abdicated unwillingly and before leaving, looked Ethan straight in the eyes.

“What do you think about a karting race, Ethan? Just you and me?”

“I’d say I would love that but aren’t you a bit too old?” replied Ethan, making Julia mentally facepalmed.

“I’ll show you on the track that I can beat you Ethan Verstappen and I promise you that I will sweep this little arrogant smile off of your face.” said Charles in a low voice, pointing his index finger at him.

Julia couldn’t help a laugh to escape her throat, catching her dad’s attention.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just funny how tables have turned now that we are dating. I remember vividly how we had a conversation about me being an adult and being mature with Ethan. Look at you now.” she said sarcastically as Ethan couldn’t refrain his laughter anymore.

“It was before I learned that he was dating my daughter!”

And just like that he left, leaving the two young adults laughing together.

It didn’t take long before the word spread out in the paddock about Julia and Ethan. People were prompt to get that they were more or less of an item after the way Charles ran to Ethan. In a way, it made things easier for Ethan as he didn’t have to hide or sneak away to get to the Skoda’s garage. It was way easier. After both of the practice sessions and his helmet under his arms, he went to see her and didn’t forget to smile as he passed by Niels and Noah who looked at him weirdly. Julia was talking with another engineer, watching the screen as she was pointing back and forth on a curve and something on her notebook. She seemed frustrated. It was in the way she was carrying herself, her back stiff, her lips tied and her emotionless look. One he knew all too well, that was the look she was always giving him.

He waited, alone, for her to pack her stuff and leave and when she finally did he was welcomed with a little smile.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, genuinely surprised to see him there.

“I thought we could leave together, you know for the rumors and all. And I wanted to know how you were doing? Your bruise and your dad… just thought I could be nice.”

“Who would have thought that you could be?”

“Hey! I’m not a total asshole.”

She stopped, as Ethan kept walking. When he noticed she wasn’t next to him anymore, he paused and looked at her.

“What?”

“You are not a total asshole. That’s true. Excuse me, I need a little time to process the information, the realization just hit me. It’s weird.”

“Sometimes, I wonder why I’m bothering talking to you… It was better when we were hating each other.”

“Well you have only yourself to blame. It’s you who asked for my help. If you had not been so careless with this girl…”

“I was not careless.” he was suddenly serious. “I’m innocent Julia. Believe me.”

And for an unknown reason, she believed him.

Ethan woke up the next day with a smile on his face. Today was his birthday, he was twenty-four and he was happy to celebrate it on the tracks. He hoped that the qualifying would go well for him, that would be his best birthday present. A part of him couldn’t wait to go back home and celebrate it with his friends and his family, properly. Hundreds of notifications were wishing him a happy birthday. From strangers on the internet to friends, to distant cousins and relatives. He took a few minutes to answer some of them before opening his mom’s text. It was short, just a simple happy birthday with an invitation for lunch as soon as he would be back. But the last few words struck him. She invited him with his girlfriend and Ethan could feel his own trap falling on him. He had to talk to Julia, he couldn’t lie to his mom anymore, not when Charles knew about him and Julia and paparazzi pictures were on the internet. He just hoped the young Leclerc would be fine with it.

Ethan had never been a huge fan of city tracks, that’s why he approached the Saturday qualifying with a reasonable amount of confidence, but his focus on the maximum level. He just wanted to have a position that would not make him far from the points. The second sector was the most tricky part for him with the successive corners and he had to admit, he was a bit apprehensive. It was going to be hard but he would give his all. As expected, he struggled a lot with sector two, losing too much time and ending up in the traffic that almost cost him to get eliminated in Q1. The Q2 was not as bad as he could have expected and he was going to start P12 right next to Martin and his P13. The start was going to be tricky; he hated being in the middle of the pack where everyone was always aggressive, especially since he was next to a Ferrari that would try everything to go back to the top as fast as possible. He would need to be extra focused when he would enter the first corner.

The surprise of the qualifying was coming from Skoda who managed, Ethan didn’t know by what miracle, to place both of the cars in Q2 taking the P14 and the P15. A part of the young Maserati’s driver couldn’t help but wonder if Julia’s ideas about the upgrades were finally showing results. He hoped it was the case and that unexpected thought surprised him.

Finally, race day came by quickly and with it a beautiful surprise from his team. A huge strawberry cake had been cooked for him and twenty-four candles were displayed on him. His birthday’s song could be heard from outside the doors of the hospitality and it warmes Ethan’s heart. After all, they didn’t hate him entirely and even Harun, his teammate that didn’t like to mingle with other people and that Ethan was sure hated him, was there. But the festivities turned short as it was soon time for the driver to take their place in their cars. Once his visor was down, Ethan was not fearing anything. It was as if something switched inside him. He was another version of himself, focused and determined on one thing only, the win.

As expected, the start was messy and Martin tried to close the door for Ethan in the first corner to avoid the undertaking. Ethan anticipated his move and tried to force an opening. Both of them didn’t want to let the other pass through to the point that it came close to a contact.

“Ethan, don't fight. Stay in Poleck’s trail and wait for the opportunity.” said his race engineer on his radio.

“Copy.”

“Just focus on what’s in front. We are not scared about the Skodas and we expect a Safety Car at some point. Let’s wait for it and in the meantime, manage your tires.

“Copy.”

And that’s what Ethan did. For a few laps he worked on putting pressure on Martin’s by staying in his rear view mirrors, hoping that at some point the Polish guy would break and make a mistake. It ended up happening in sector two where Martin locked his wheel in one of the trickier corners and put his Ferrari front wing first in the wall. Ethan managed to avoid him, just in time before the red flag was raised.

In the Ferrari’s garage, a collective sigh of disapproval was heard. It was not the first time that something like that happened with Martin and everyone knew that it was going to cost a lot of money, considering the damage. But they still had one driver to focus on, thought Charles as Martin was coming back, his helmet still on his face and walking angrily to his room. They had a few minutes before the restart and Charles decided to go and see him. He knocked on the door and waited for it to open. Martin was getting rid of his suit and was in a bad mood.

“Do you have five minutes or would you rather be alone?” Charles asked.

“I keep on making stupid mistakes, you can be mad at me Charles.”

“It could have happened to anyone, even Elijah. This corner is not the easiest. I know one thing or two about it. I hit it too when I was a rookie too in Ferrari. It didn’t prevent me from being three times World Champion. I learned from it, worked harder to not make the mistake twice and eventually I won there. We will rewatch the crash to understand where it came from and what we could have done collectively to prevent it.”

“I locked the wheel and then I lost the rear, I was keeping an eye on Verstappen and I lost my focus. But maybe it wouldn’t have happened if the car was actually driveable. I can’t keep going like that, it’s a pain in the ass to drive it on city tracks.”

“We will see what we can do to help you. The car is not what we hoped it would be, that's for sure.” confessed Charles, feeling sorry for Martin. He knew all too well what it felt like to drive a car that was not suiting your driving style.

In the Skoda’s hospitality, it was celebration time. Both drivers had done their best race up to date. Sure they were not yet in the points but they had been so close. Everyone was happy and it gave Julia the confidence she needed to go to Wilhelm and talk to him about the upgrades she had thought about. Everything was ready, she even had simulation data along with a list of the benefits and how much it would cost. She breathed in and breathed out a few times before confidently going to him.

As for Ethan, he managed a P11, not the birthday gift he was expecting but he knew it was the best he could achieve with his car. He just regretted to not be able to bring some points to the team. But still, overall it was a good race. Not one to remember but not one to forget. He was sure they could extract information from it to help them make a step forward. And on a more personal level, he felt an improvement in his driving. So it as a good Sunday and he was looking forward to his one week break before starting the Asian part of the season. As he was making his way out of the media pen, ready to get back to the hotel he saw Julia sat on the border of the starting grid, her head lowered. It was starting to be a bit late and he knew most of the teams had already left. Intrigued, he got closer until he heard sobs coming from her.

“Julia? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” he said as he sat beside her.

“It’s nothing. It’s just… it’s stupid. And you shouldn’t be here, I wanted to be alone.”

“So no one could see you cry. Do you want me to get your dad or Romy?”

“I don’t want anyone to see me like that.I’m fine, I promise.”

“No offense, Joolsie but you look like shit.”

“And you know exactly how to cheer on someone…” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of hand.

“I could do it better if I knew what was happening.”

“I told you, it’s nothing. Working for Skoda is not what I expected, that's it. It’s just that I’m making a big fuss out of it when in reality it’s okay… I thought that I could be useful and I wanted to help so I designed some upgrades. I had this whole thing ready and I was so happy just to be turned down by Wilhelm. I’m here to execute orders not to think. He threw everything away… all my work.”

It angered Ethan more than he thought it would. He hated injustice. F1 was first and foremost a team sport. If you wanted your team to perform you needed the help of everyone. All suggestions were worth to be taken into account and no one should feel disrespected or deserved to be talked down to. He threw an arm over Julia’s shoulder before forcing her to lean on him.

“Wilhelm doesn’t deserve your tears. It’s his loss. I’m sure your ideas were amazing.”

“They were. They really were.” she paused, deep in her thoughts “But you’re right. If Skoda doesn’t want my ideas, maybe my dad and Ferrari will.”

She got up and straightened her tee shirt, before looking right in front of the Ferrari’s garage with a determined look on her face.

Author's note: What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. It helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

#writing #fiction #charles leclerc #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #max vertsappen #f1 story #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc

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cophene · 1 month

Text

𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 | jojolion; eight.

008 | six count draw.

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pairing : jojolion x gn reader summary : the heir to an limitless fortune goes on a vacation to morioh to find their true love. seems easy enough; only, if that they're unable to find their love, they'll lose not just their fortune, but their life. notes : multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 2.7k+

★ . . . YOU HOVERED IN THE DOORWAY of your room as Daiya rifled through your suitcases. You had made a bet with someone yesterday and had to do something before eleven. But it must have had something to do with the boy on the chess piece Daiya had taken, and so you didn’t have a clue what it was. All you had to do was get Daiya to step on your shadow and you’d get your memory back. But how?

You felt a dull, persistent throb in your fingers; Dancing’s Done urging you to get to your task. Although you had never encountered it, you supposed forgetting was a form of opposing the task.

“We need to dress you up,” Daiya said, pulling out clothes from your suitcase. Bold, exquisite pieces from the voguish designers you bought from, sometimes straight off the runway. She squealed. “Ooh, this blazer is so pretty! And you have this silk scarf too! Put these on! I have the perfect dress to match.”

You begrudgingly replaced your hoodie with the blazer and turned to the mirror against the wall to tie the scarf around your neck.

Maybe you didn’t need the memory at all. If you could figure out who the person your task was for, you could still do it, even if you didn’t know who they were. It had to be in your phone somewhere.

“This cap would look so cute on you!”

You pulled out your phone as Daiya continued gushing over your clothes. You went back to your latest messages and tapped on Karera’s chat. She had to have mentioned your task.

You skimmed it over. Don’t forget … eleven … Josuke. Your attention snagged on the name. He had to be the one. But who the hell was he? You scrolled back further but there were no clues as to who he was.

“Y/N, what do you think?”

You sent off a quick text to Karera to remind you who Josuke was and what he looked like. She would be confused as hell but hopefully she’d answer. If you completed the task with the wrong guy, it would all be for nothing.

Hold on, you’d seen a contact in your messages with that name. Going back, you found the contact labelled JOSUKE ★. Was this the same guy? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, thinking. Would he be able to come to the Higashikata house? Daiya would have to let you go then, right? You were about to send the number to Karera to confirm when you felt Daiya hovering over your shoulder.

“Don’t you think it’s rude to ignore someone?” Daiya seized your phone. She squinted down at it. “Are you trying to get away from me? I’m going through all this trouble to pick out your outfit and you’re ignoring me?”

“No, Daiya, listen. I have to—”

“And you’re trying to lie to me!” Daiya cried. “You’re ignoring me and lying to me. I’d say that counts as fussing, don’t you?”

You didn’t have a chance to argue. You gagged suddenly, feeling as though something was coming up your esophagus. You hacked violently, trying to dislodge it, and it skittered across the floor as it fell from your mouth.

“Ooh, where did it go? Give me a hint! Just a little one!” Daiya dropped to the ground, her hands scrabbling around. Your eyes widened. Shit! That had been another chess piece! Daiya had just taken another memory from you!

“Got it!” To your dismay, Daiya raised up a rook, rolling the piece along her cheek. A delighted grin spread across her face. “This one is of your friend from yesterday!”

Your stomach dropped to your feet. “Friend? Who are you talking about?” You strained to make out the figure in the chess piece. A fish-patterned headband. Long dark hair. Who was that?

“This memory is so pretty,” Daiya sighed. She dropped the chess piece into her pocket. “It’s the perfect one to share together!” She got up from the floor and walked over to you. You stiffened as she draped her arms over your shoulders. “We’re starting our happiness, Y/N! You’ll fall in love with me in no time!”

If you couldn’t complete this task and Dancing’s Done tore you apart, you’d be long dead before you break the curse.

Daiya absently fixed your silk scarf and gazed at the two of you in the wall mirror. She rested her cheek on your shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Y/N. They’re just a few tiny memories. I promise we’ll make new ones!”

Your head felt like a spoon had scooped through it. That girl had been important. She was meant to help you figure out what the task was. But Daiya still had your phone and you didn’t even know the girl’s name anymore.

You’d severely underestimated Higashikata Daiya. She probably thought her Stand was all fun and games but what if she took away even more of your memories? Your Stand. The curse. If you forgot, your entire vacation would end with your death.

You glanced at the ground, at the way your shadow was faintly visible on the floorboards. You shifted slightly. All you needed was for Daiya to step on it. Her feet were right there …

“I think you look really cute in this outfit,” Daiya said. She spun away, out into the hall. “Now it’s your turn to help me pick something out.”

You forced yourself to stay calm as Daiya picked out a baby-blue skirt to match with your blazer. If you got upset, so would Daiya, and you couldn’t afford to lose any more memories. You just had to play along, get her to forget about your shadow. If Daiya had everything in the mansion memorized, you just had to get her outside. Let her take you sightseeing, if that was what she wanted.

You waited outside Daiya’s room as she changed. The ache in your fingers sharpened, and you hissed at the needling pain. Blood slicked down your knuckles, staining the sleeve of your blazer. For the first time, you had a taste of what people on the other side of Dancing’s Done must have felt. Your entire body tingled, urging you to finish the task. Even if you had forgotten it, the other person must remember, which must be the thing fuelling your Stand.

An idea struck you then. You thought you had heard the vacuum coming from the second floor. You started up the stairs, relieved when you met Kei halfway.

She blinked. “L/N-san, is there anything I can help you with? I thought you had already left with Josuke.”

The name pinged off your mind like a rock against a wall. “Do you have any bandages?” You held up your bloody hand. “I cut myself on something.”

Kei brushed past you and you followed her to the washroom, where she took out a roll of bandages from under the sink. She gestured for you to hold out your hand and she began bandaging your fingers in quick, deft movements.

You glanced out into the hall and lowered your voice. “Kei, there’s a person who’s supposed to meet with me, right?”

“Yes, Josuke informed you had made plans—”

You shook your head. “Don’t bother. I don't know who that is.”

Kei’s eyes flicked up to meet yours. A small wrinkle appeared between her brows. She looked across the hall to Daiya’s closed door.

“I see,” she said tonelessly.

“If whoever that is comes by, can you tell them I left with Daiya to the shopping district? Make sure they know I’m with Daiya.”

Kei’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around your own. Her eyes flashed. “I understand.”

“Y/N! Come on, let’s go!”

You pulled your hand from Kei. She nodded and you met Daiya out in the living room.

“What happened to your hand?” Daiya asked. She’d replaced her clothes with a white polo and tennis shoes, along with the skirt she’d picked out. A pale-blue cap with bear ears sat on her head.

“Cut myself zipping up my suitcase,” you said. You forced a smile. “Do you mind if we go to the shopping district? There were a bunch of shops I saw yesterday that I wanted to check out.”

“Ooh, sounds fun!” Daiya looped her arm around yours as you headed to the front door. “We should take my bicycle! It'd be so cute if the two of us rode it together! I could sit in the front and you could help me steer!”

“Wouldn’t it be a better idea if I sit in the front?”

“No, silly! How are you going to put your arms around me then?”

Your phone went off and you jolted at the sound. Before you could ask for it, Daiya whipped it out from her handbag, making a face at whoever the caller ID was.

“You don’t need this. I’ve already got my phone.” Daiya carelessly tossed your phone onto the coffee table. “Come on, it’s nearly twelve already. We should grab a bite to eat before we go shopping. I know about a great café nearby!”

You cast a rueful look over your shoulder at your phone. You would’ve bet anything that had been either your friend or the task person calling. You could only hope they would come by and Kei would tell them where you’d gone.

Your hand gave a pulse of pain. When you looked down, blood was already seeping through the bandage.

After maneuvering awkwardly onto Daiya’s bike behind her, you were forced to strain over her shoulder to shout directions and holler about potential hazards. Thankfully, it was a straight shot from the Higashikata mansion to the shopping district. It seemed like Daiya memorizing the position of the sun wasn’t a bluff. Throughout the entire ride, your shadow hadn’t come anywhere near her, and even when you left the bike behind and began walking through the shopping district, she took great pains to make sure your shadow was never underfoot.

It was beginning to feel like something was gnawing at your hand. The last time you had peeked, the bandage was completely red. You were forced to clench your blazer sleeve in your hand and silently lament staining the material. Your pinky and ring fingers felt strangely loose. They probably would have fallen off without the bandage. It had to be half past eleven by now. Forgetting the task wasn’t stopping Dancing’s Done from beginning the attack.

“The café should be around here,” Daiya said, squinting hard as she looked around the storefronts. You spotted the Higashikata Fruit Parlour not far off. Maybe Norisuke would be able to help you?

Your heart nearly stopped when you noticed Daiya’s heel was an inch away from your shadow. Daiya moved at the same time you did, skipping daintily over your shadow to take your hand. You thanked your lucky stars she hadn’t grabbed the hand that was falling apart.

“I think that’s it! That says café right, Y/N?”

You immediately looked down at your feet when you entered the café. With the way the lights were, your shadow was nothing but a circle underneath you. There was no way Daiya would step on it. You sighed, joining Daiya at a booth next to the windows. While she chattered away, holding the menu up to her nose to read it, you grabbed a wad of napkins to stuff into your sleeve. You had to cough loudly to hide the meaty crack that sounded not a minute later. You stifled your gasp of pain as stars exploded in your vision.

That would be your wrist breaking.

“What do you want to order?” Daiya asked. Her blitheness was almost insulting. “I heard the lattes here are really good.”

“I’ll take that and a sweet bun,” you said with forced cheerfulness. Were Dancing’s Done’s attacks this painful for everyone? No wonder Joshu hated your guts.

You wracked your brain for a plan as Daiya rattled off your order to a server. You couldn’t get Daiya to step on your shadow without tipping her off and you couldn’t run off to deal with the task when you couldn’t remember it. Although you had been afraid of Daiya using your Stand against you, there weren’t any options left.

“You said fairness was important, right?” you asked as the server left.

Daiya twirled the napkin dispenser around. “Mhm.”

“I agree with you. You already explained California King Bed, so I should explain my Stand ability to you too.”

Daiya’s eyes gleamed. “Please do! I’ve been wondering all this time.”

You swallowed, doing your best to ignore the waves of pain radiating down your arm. You took out your bone dice and set them and the jade plate on the table between you.

“My Stand deals with these dice. Before you roll, we’ll agree on a bet. If you roll under a seven, you have to do whatever I bet. But if you roll over a seven, we have to do whatever you bet.”

“What do you mean, have to?”

“Once you’ve rolled, Dancing’s DOne begins its attack. Every minute you spend defying the bet, my Stand will remove a part of your limbs. It would only escalate until you either finish the task … or die from the injuries.” Like I am right now.

“Interesting …” Daiya’s expression turned cat-like. “Are you saying you’d like to play a game with me?”

“If you roll under a seven, you’ll step on my shadow and give me my memories back.” You struggled to think of an alternative that Daiya would agree to.

“If I roll over seven, I’ll take the memory of your Stand.”

Daiya might as well have punched you. “What?”

Daiya laughed. “That’s fair, isn’t it? You’re basically asking me to give up the happiness we just shared. If I roll under a seven, I’ll give your memories back. If not, we can share the memory of your Stand. Deal or not?”

Your hands went clammy. No deal! your mind shrieked. Forgetting your Stand? What would that do to you? But would it even matter? Daiya was attacking you with her Stand. She couldn’t be trustworthy; it was practically guaranteed she would roll under seven!

It felt like someone was twisting your arm back with excruciating slowness. “Deal,” you said, blinking back tears.

Daiya picked up your dice and shook them. You had never played with someone like this before. You hated that it felt like Daiya was controlling this game instead of you.

It would be fine, you told yourself. Your Stand would protect you. Daiya obviously wasn’t trustworthy. You would get your memories back, find whoever the task person was and freaking do it before your arm fell off.

The dice clattered on the jade plate. You leaned over eagerly, ready to drag Daiya outside where your shadow would be visible.

Three pips on one—

And three on the other.

How had Daiya rolled a six?

“What’s with that face?” Daiya looked confused. “Didn’t you win? I rolled under seven.”

“The number six is a safe zone,” you said faintly. “It’s basically a draw.”

“Then I’ll roll again.”

Your Stand couldn’t decide if Daiya was a threat or not. How? She was—

Your shoulder popped out of your socket all at once. You cried out, clutching at it. I’m not defying the task! you wanted to scream. I’m doing everything I can to remember it, damnit!

Daiya reached for you. “Y/N! What happened?”

At the same time, a few customers gasped as the café door slammed open. Two guys rushed inside, making a beeline to your booth. Joshu and some guy with a sailor hat.

A sailor hat …

“Y/N, you need to come with me,” Sailor Hat said. You blinked at him, still clutching your arm.

“Why? Who are you?”

Surprise flashed across Sailor Hat’s face as fire ripped through you. You heard a thump as your hand landed on the ground.

“Shit!” Joshu leapt back. “Dumbass, don’t you remember?” he yelled at you. “Josuke rolled your dice. You have to go sightseeing with him!”

By now, servers were clustering around your booth, horrified at the blood gushing from your wrist. Joshu barked at them to back off while Daiya pleaded to know what was going on.

You looked around in a daze. Sailor Hat was the one spot you could focus on. He pulled you to your feet, mindful of your dislocated arm. If he cared about the blood staining his white clothes, he didn’t show it.

“We need to get outside,” he said.

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#okoshijjl #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba x reader #jojolion #jojolion x reader #gender neutral reader

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merelywren · 2 years

Text

Maybe Someday.

by : merelywren (mrflannery)

Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson

Summary:

Chrissy gets an unexpected visitor at the Munson trailer.

Work Count: 3426

————

It was a Saturday afternoon, and they were dancing on the front lawn.

Music was playing from the radio up on the porch, a compromise of soft classic rock. Wayne sitting in his chair catching up on yesterdays news paper while Eddie and Chrissy were hanging up the laundry to dry, shufflling their feet from side to side, twisting hips and laughing at how uncoordinated they both were. Yet, they didn’t mind. It was easy for them to be silly, to laugh, to poke fun at the other. Eddie grabbing Chrissy’s hand as she reached for another shirt in the laundry hamper, twirling her around once and letting her go in a spin as he caught the shirt that dropped, throwing it carelessly up and onto the line.

Her smile was wide as she shook her head and fixed the shirt to lay it smooth, throwing a kick to his backside and laughing at this failed attempt to dodge her. He was shirtless and wild, his tattoos standing out proud on is untanned skin.

Their feet were bare and staining green from the grass, but it was okay. Here, Chrissy could be careless. She could be shoeless, she could be dirty and unkempt. She could wear her hair in a messy bun on top her head, she could wear the jean shorts that her mother hated, and one of Eddies old band tees and it wouldn’t matter. The Munson trailer was a place she found her freedom in, and the place she called home now.

“Hey kiddo,” Wayne called out to Chrissy. She looked up and he nodded his head behind her, a little frown on his face.

Chrissy looked back at the car that was slowing pulling up to the opposite end of the trailer to them.

“Dad?”

————

It was overcast, the chances of rain looking pretty high, the day Chrissy knocked on the Munson trailer door. She quickly wiped the wetness from her cheeks and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind one ear. She tightened her hand around the handle of her suitcase and resettled the strap of her duffle bag higher up on her shoulder. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her heart down.

But it was no use, for the moment that the door opened and she saw Eddie's face, her own began to crumble. She felt another hot tear make it’s way down her cheek and she dropped her chin, willing herself not to break completely.

But he said her name.

That same deep concern that she’s heard from him too many times, always knowing when something wasn’t right, when he could see that she wasn’t okay.

She closed her eyes and her chest heaved with a cry she just couldn’t keep in.

Eddie was there between one second and the next, his arms around her shoulders, hiding her away in his arms and he so quietly soothed her, his fingers from one hand digging into the hair at the back of her neck. Her own fingers went slack and she distantly heard her bags hit the ground at their feet. Her arms went weakly up to his back, her whole body shaking with her sobs. She was shattering, from all the tiny cracks that she had withstood for so many years. One final crack and it was too much.

"Hey, hey, Chrissy, shh, sweatheart. It’s okay, it’s okay,” Eddie was whispering to her, and it felt like a balm to every broken piece of her. The pain was still there, and she knew it would be there for a long time, but just the presence of him, the feel of him…it took the fear away. She was able to grieve without the sick gnawing grip of fear.

She had felt that grip the entire walk to his home. The unknown of his reaction to her showing up unannounced at 9 at night on a Tuesday. As that fear slipped from her like a sheet to the ground, she knew that it was unfounded. He would always welcome her, she was silly to forget that. Pain is a greedy thing; it hides away all the good so that all that is left is the pain. It casts up shadows where there should be none and creates doubt in the things that should never be doubted.

Like Eddie's care for her.

It has no shadows, it has no hard edges. It’s pure and smooth and wonderful, and it has been fresh air to her suffocated and damaged lungs.

He let her cry herself dry, till there was just small hiccups breaking up the quiet air. Eddie was swaying them slightly from side to side, his arms never loosing their grip. Chrissy pressed her forehead to the center of his chest as she took a deep, cleansing breath.

Eddie finally pulled back just far enough so that he could put his hands on her face, checking her over for any visible sign of hurt.

“You need to tell me what happened, whose legs do I need to break?” Eddie asked and it made Chrissy laugh. It was a joke she knew, but the look on his face said that the feeling behind it wasn’t entirely a lie.

She sobered quickly though when she thought about the answer.

“She finally kicked me out, Eddie,” she said. That was really all she needed to say. Eddie knew the rest of the story. He’d been there for all of it.

After Eddie found her in the Upside Down, after almost dying to Vecna, Chrissy’s life took a whole new shape in front of her. Going through hell and coming out on the other side and knowing that the only reason she had been drug there to begin with was because of her mother, and everything she had been putting her through her whole high-school life; she wanted it to end. The iron clad control she had over Chrissy, it was going to end.

Vecna had saw it all, fed off of it, and it had almost killed her. And for the first time Chrissy was ready to say no. She was ready to look her mother, her very own living breathing demon, in the eye and say no.

She’s done diminishing herself to please her un-pleasable mother. She’s done starving, she’s done being walked on, she’s done taking less in every facet of her life just so others can have more.

Jason was the first thing she purged.

Once back on solid ground, the others had told her what had been going on. Lucas had explain in full detail how Jason had lost his mind, and the whole town with him. Believing in his witch hunt for Eddie and ready to kill at first sight. It had turned her stomach in a rotten way, and more so when she realized she wasn’t as shocked as she probably should have been.

Chrissy hadn’t let go of Eddie since he found her tied up in the twisted version of the Creel house. His hands were gentle and his voice almost reverent since he first saw her there.

After Vecna had gotten into Nancy’s mind, she had told the group that he had shown her his plan, that the three taken were still alive. Eddie didn’t really believe her until he had seen Chrissy with his own eyes.

She can still feel the almost desperate and raw relief she had felt at seeing Eddie’s face, can still feel the burning tears on her face as she called out to him as he pulled her away from the creeping vines that had held her tight for what felt like years. How he held her so close and cried with her. Her heart had felt tied to him in that moment and it hadn’t changed since.

There was no going back to the life she had before that.

After every pain staking moment and decision and life saving testimony from the three that were taken to clear Eddie’s name, the whole town felt different. She could see people’s true colors now. See how bias so many people were, how quick they were to point fingers at the less fortunate, the weird.

Jason was the first straw that broke her tie to her mother.

And then stepping down as head cheerleader.

Every action she took sent her mother into an abusive spin. Demanding she be obeyed, that Chrissy take back Jason, that she tell the coach she wasn’t thinking straight when she stepped down. To apologize and grovel before her for her outrageous behaviour.

But Chrissy wouldn’t do it. Not any of it.

So she was punished, stowed away in her room, and left without meals. Met with nothing but iciness from her mother and a guilty look from her father. He never came to her rescue, he never spoke up, never dared go against his wife and it did nothing but leave a bitter taste in Chissy's mouth.

She was always left to fend for herself in the face of her mothers vileness. She was done with that too. She confronted her father once, shortly before her final exit of the house.

Chrissy wanted to know how he could stand by and watch as she nearly withered away.

He couldn’t really answer her, and Chrissy felt like that hurt her the most.

He didn’t come to find her when she was kicked out. Didn’t stop her as the door closed at her back.

She lost both of her parents that night.

————

Chrissy was frozen to the spot, feeling helpless as she watched her dad get out of the car, his eyes sweeping quickly over the scene and never quite landing on her. This was the first time she saw him in weeks. The last time from across the street as her and Eddie were driving to school. He’d seen her then, his face shocked and then sad before Chrissy turned away, not wanting to see it.

And now here he was. Standing on the lawn of the place she called home.

Chrissy lost all thought, couldn’t think of a single word. Everything just went blank. She was distantly aware of the music fading away, and she felt a brush at her back left shoulder and knew that it was Eddie.

Tom closed the drivers door quietly and made his way to Chrissy. She had a moment of terror at the thought of her mother climbing out of the passengers side, but she never appeared.

Her father put his hands in his pockets as he came to a stop a distance from her. Wayne stood from his chair and spoke up.

“This okay?” he asked and Chrissy didn’t know how to answer. It really wasn’t okay. She wasn’t prepared for this, she never pictured him here, never hoped for him to reach out.

Chrissy felt her mouth open on instinct but no sound came.

Eddie stepped around her and stood just a hair in front of her to the side. She noticed he was now wearing a shirt, still damp from the wash.

“Was there something you needed?” he directed towards Tom. Not unkind but not inviting either.

Chrissy held her breath waiting for the answer.

He finally met her eyes. He had been carefully avoiding her gaze, sweeping over the trailer, the laundry, the men at her back. But now his eyes settled on her and Chrissy`s own stung from the horrible tears that threatened.

He took a deep breath and finally said, “I thought…that we could talk.”

We never talk, Chrissy’s mind spoke up.

She looked over at Eddie and then Wayne. Their visible support was so clear to her, the tone just their posture gave off. She had no reason to fear her father and his presence. The Munson's were there for her.

“You go on inside. We need to finish up the laundry out here anyways,” Wayne said softly and with a side-eye to Tom. “You just holler if you need anything.” A clear warning to Tom that his visit could be cut short in a second.

Chrissy nodded, feeling almost numb as she took a step towards the trailer door. Eddie grabbed her hand before she got too far, facing her head on and looking at her with a tilted down head. He was asking if she was okay, she could see it painted on his face.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered to him, not feeling the words at all, but wanting to reassure him anyways.

“Okay,” he whispered back, concern in his eyes, clearly not believing her but letting her make the decision. He always lets her make the decision. He never chooses for her, he never assumes. That’s what she loves about him, how truly free he makes her feel. She's never been free before.

Chrissy squeezed his hand once and turned back around with a tiny speck of confidence that wasn’t there before. This is my choice, she thought.

She went up the steps and into the trailer, hearing her father behind, and the soft click shut of the door. She went to stand by the table, crossing her arms in comfort and turning to look at him.

Tom was looking around in clear wonder. The living-room with fishing magazines on the coffee table mixed in with homework. The kitchen table with three placemats, and the clean counter tops that she insists remain that way. She needles Eddie when she catches him leaving dishes there.

The room smelled of the fresh laundry from that morning.

She wonders if her father can see the difference between this place and her family home. If he can feel how different it is here; happy and safe and so much better. She would choose this tiny trailer over and over again given the choice.

Chrissy waited.

Looking at her father here in her space, in the place that was so freely given to her in safety, added to that small confidence that was now growing the longer she looked at him. This was hers and no one could take it away except the two men that gave it to her in the first place and she knew without any doubt that they never would.

Not like her mother did. Not like her father, who stood and watched it happen.

Chrissy stood taller as her father looked back at her.

“So, this is…this is where you live?” he asked, sweeping his gaze around the room before coming back to her.

Chrissy took a calming breath and found her voice again. “Yes,” she said. She wasn’t giving him more than what he asks for. Why would she?

Tom nodded his head and put his hands back in his pockets, looking to the floor and back up again. “And, you’re okay here? With, with them?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Chrissy frowned. Could he really ask that? Could he really care after all this time?

“Are you asking if I’m safe?” Chrissy retorted. “After what, almost two months of me being gone? You ask that now?”

The sick feeling was back in her stomach. She hadn’t missed it one bit, but it was there again. Just like when she was back in the home he shared with her mother. Where nothing felt right, and it was always a struggle just to get through a day. She didn’t want this, this feeling wasn’t welcome here. This was her safety and sickness had no place here.

“Why are you here?” she asked. She didn’t think holding her tongue would work anymore. She wanted this to be over.

Tom looked almost confused at her questioning, at her brash reply to him. “I wanted to see you, Chrissy. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I wasn’t even sure where you were, I had to ask around about that boy out there.”

That boy.

Chrissy’s heart was pounding now and she desperately pushed down the sick in her throat. “That boy saved my life. That boy took me in when my own parents kicked me out,” she raised her voice.

“Your mother,” her father tried to say.

“No. Don’t finish that sentence. Mother may have said the words, but you stood there and watched it happen, you let her say it and you watched me walk out that door. You’re my dad,” she cried. “You’re suppose to keep me safe, you’re suppose to be there!” Chrissy said, her breath coming quicker with every second. These are the things she has been tucking away inside of her for years. These hidden things that could never be said. But she’s not that girl anymore. She not under anyone’s thumb anymore.

"You were never there for me. And you come here? After months and dare to question Wayne? And Eddie?” She wiped her cheek, not even realizing she had started crying till she felt it at her chin. “I came here after I was kicked out and they took me in. They made sure I was okay. They gave up part of their space and life so that I could be here! And they’ve never complained, they’ve never made me feel unwelcome and wrong.”

The memory of her first night there shot across her mind; how Eddie had brought her inside, tucking her under his arm, how Wayne immediately asked what was wrong. How he went and tried to make her tea before realizing that they didn’t have any and apologizing for it. She had smiled through her tears and said that it was alright. He got her a glass of water instead and it was the nicest thing he could have done for her in that moment. She cradled that glass in her hands like it was something to treasure.

She couldn’t remember the last time her own father did something like that for her.

Tom rubbed at his mouth, one hand going to his hip as he turned away from her. “Chrissy,” he tried after a minute. “I wanted to try to bring you home,” he said quietly, looking at her again, his eyes glossy.

Chrissy shook her head. She felt sorry for him in that moment, with how lost he looked.

“I am home,” she stated firmly. “I never want to go back to that house again, dad. I never want to feel the way I did every single day of my life, like I did in that house.”

Tom was shaking his head in a sad way, his eyes shut. “Chrissy,” he said, “honey, I’m…” But he couldn’t even finish. There were tears on his face now, and Chrissy wished that she could hug him. But that wasn’t the world they lived in. The relationship she had with her father was just as broken as the one with her mother, just in a different way. Maybe someday, she thought. A lot of things would have to be different…but maybe.

Maybe someday he’ll be able to say it. Maybe someday she’ll be able to believe it. It just wasn’t today.

Chrissy sighed, and lowered her arms to her sides. She really looked at he father then. Took in the defeated stance, the deep lines of sorrow on his face, and the ruffled lay of his hair.

Hopefully someday, she thought.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she said softly, not unkind.

He nodded, still looking down. She let him take a moment to gather himself again, straighten and clear his face.

“Can I come see you again? If that’s alright,” he asked in earnest.

Chrissy thought about it, and nodded. “Maybe. It’d be best if you called first,” she replied, setting a boundary.

“I can do that,” he said, nodding and trying to smile. He didn’t quite make it.

Chrissy walked around him and opened up the door. Still barefoot, she walked down the steps to the grass and waited for her father to follow. He made his way back to his car and opened the door. Looking back at her he asked, “The number?”

Chrissy looked over her shoulder to where Eddie and Wayne were trying to look like they weren’t paying attention, and smiled.

The sick feeling was gone, and the warmth in her chest was back. Family, her mind whispered.

“It’s in the phonebook,” she said back to her father, still looking at the two fiddling with laundry. If her father wanted to be in her life, he would have to work for it.

“It's under Munson.”

My family.

#chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #eddie x chrissy #chrissy cunningham/eddie munson #hellcheer #eddissy #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #FOUND FAMILY

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