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bejeweledinterludes · 2 months ago

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touch starved.

OR dean winchester needs a damn hug! specifically from me, so of course i wrote about it! pretty much based off of my own headcanon that i wrote because this dean is canon— TO ME!

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read part 2 here!

「 pairing 」 : touch starved ! dean x fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 6.1 k (would y’all believe me when i say this started out as a drabble… faith be normal over dean winchester challenge level: IMPOSSIBLE!)

「 content / warnings 」 : late seasons soft!dean, vulnerability to da max, emotions, emotions, EMOTIONS. no smut (for once!), starts off kinda sad BUT HAS A HAPPY(ISH) ENDING I SWEAR! PLEASE PLEASE DON’T KILL ME

you have one ( 1 ) new message from the author ! ↓

AFTER CENTURIES IT’S FINALLY DONE! just saying once again thank you all so very much for 400 (+87 ?!?!?) followers! this fic is my gift to you! can’t believe over 400 of you want to see my bullshit (and unabashed horniness) on the daily but i love and appreciate every single one of ya! shoutout to my lovely mooties as well!

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dean winchester knew he had something called a touch problem.

and he didn’t know exactly when it started, but after years and years of the only touch he received being hits, punches, the cold feel of steel from a knife or the heat from the barrel of a gun—he craved something gentle.

he needed it.

and goddamn, he was getting desperate.

at first, he usually just sought it out with one-night stands. whether it be holding their hand during it, or sticking around for longer just to lay in bed with whoever the fuck he’d met that night— that kept him at bay. that’s how he got the touch he needed.

but then he got greedy.

it had been a particularly rough hunt. you, dean, and sam were lucky to get out alive. you’d pulled into a town that had a vamp nest terrorizing its inhabitants, and when you saw the familiar hot faces of the winchester brothers at the only decent bar in a 30-mile radius, you’d decided to work together— as you’d all done a million times before.

but still, it was rough. you three each took a floor of the abandoned farmhouse— you on the highest, dean in the middle, and sam on the ground floor. you clambered down the stairs after you had finished clearing your floor, only to be met with two snarling vampires— which you quickly ganked with a schwing of your machete.

after verifying that no threats were coming your way, you started looking for dean— and the panic that flooded through your chest when you saw him crumpled over on the floor in one of the rooms almost made you freeze.

almost.

years of experience and split-second decisions snapped you out of it, immediately falling to your knees by dean’s side, turning him over on his back.

your hands were gentle but swift as you quickly flipped out the sides of his jacket, making sure there were no large gashes or wounds— and the sigh with the feeling of pure relief you let out when you realized he was just knocked out was a little more intense than you had expected it to be.

and you told yourself that was definitely normal.

right?

right.

“dean,” your hand had gone to the side of dean’s face, the other remaining on his shoulder as you shook it gently, trying not to startle him completely as you masked your worry. “come on ya lug, rise ‘n shine.”

despite your efforts, dean still woke with a start— but you caught his arm with the hand not on his face before he could do anything.

“hey— hey,” your voice was quieter, softer. because despite being one bad mother when you were hunting, your soft side came out frequently when it was needed, without fear of judgment and with absolutely no shame. it was one of the things dean wished he could do as seamlessly as you. “it’s jus’ me, alright? come on—”

you then proceeded to stand all six feet and some change of dean up with you, keeping a hand on his back and shoulders and giving him another once over when he stood over you again.

“you all good?” you murmur quietly, your hands resting on the sides of dean’s arms as you stood back, your eyes continuing to rake over him for a moment before looking up at his face— and the expression you were met with wasn’t anger, or even frustration from being knocked out.

no.

dean looked almost… sad.

you’d never been exactly ‘close’ with dean. of course you considered him a friend— for years now, but in all honesty, even that was a stretch sometimes, too. because he was a very closed off and mistrusting person.

but hell, you respected that. especially in this line of work. he did talk to you once in a while, though— on those lulls during a hunt or a case, or when he dropped some crazy lore about himself or his childhood, then going right back to his usual behaviors afterwards.

that being said, you knew dean better than he thought you did— because he didn’t have to say much for you to know what he was going through. despite what he thought, his emotions were always kinda just… written on his face.

but now, back to the farmhouse. back to the look dean had on his face right now. it was a look you saw only after he had consumed enough alcohol to kill a baby elephant, which is why it threw you off and made your usual easygoing attitude with him falter.

“dean,” you voice had gotten quieter, even softer, “w—” but before you could say or even do anything else, sam called from the floor below that it was all clear, snapping dean out of it, his expression hardening again.

in the days coming after, you didn’t ask dean to explain himself, or push about what had happened that night. you knew if he wanted to, he’d come to you about it— maybe not right away, but when he was ready.

little did you know how soon that would be.

you’d been living in the bunker for probably only a couple months at this point after the apocalypse world had opened up, and a bunch of hunters were living in the bunker too— but less than a week later after the vamp nest, both sam and dean embarked on solo hunts, sam in maine, dean in nevada. both brothers had warned you not to ‘burn the joint down’.

come on. like you would ever do that— on accident. besides, you had the bunker all to yourself.

which was fun—

for all of five minutes.

now, almost six days after sam and dean had left, you’re sitting in the library, surrounded by a scattered array of books, papers, and weapons alike on the tables in front of you— another late night of research and catching up on lore.

because there was always lore to catch up on.

you’d been lost in the words in front of you when you heard the unmistakable noise of the bunker’s door creaking open. you stiffened slightly, instincts on alert, lifting your gaze from where you were standing— but relaxed and went back to scanning the page when you realized it was just dean.

because here’s the thing: over the years, you’ve realized that it’s not a good idea to talk to dean after he’s fresh off a hunt— and especially knowing that he’s probably just drove almost or even over 24 hours straight to come home?

yeah. no way were you about to be running up to dean as he trudged down the stairs, doting on him. to your knowledge, he hated touching people, especially other people touching him.

besides, usually after a hunt, dean would just go to his room, the infirmary, or immediately hit the showers— and not look once in your direction while he did it, much less talk to you.

it hurt, but you understood that the reason he does it wasn’t exactly anything you were doing wrong— it was just what dean did.

but tonight was different.

dean was on his way to his bedroom (or actually, maybe the infirmary might be better so he could patch himself up)—

but then he saw you.

you were still stood at one of the tables, eyes scanning through books of lore you dug up from the bookshelves, illuminated by the golden lamps lining the wooden tables. god, you were pretty. even though you weren’t looking at him, he didn’t blame you. he wasn’t exactly the most cheerful after a hunt.

especially this one.

and because of that, dean’s feet were moving before he could even think twice about what he was doing.

you’d glanced up from the book you’d been completely engulfed in— and was a little surprised to find dean looking right back at you as he walked up the few steps to the library.

you opened your mouth to say something, but before you could even register what was happening, dean had already made it to you— and without warning, wrapped you in a tight embrace, slamming against you and holding you like you were the only thing that would keep him upright.

your eyes widen slightly at the feeling of dean’s arms around you before you could register the fact that he’d even crossed the threshold of the bunker— a little ‘oof’ sound escapes you completely involuntarily.

“hey,” dean let out a shaky breath against some strands of your hair and shoulder, his voice slightly raspy with…was that relief?

despite how caught off-guard you were, you don’t reject dean’s unexpected hug, though. you let your body adjust to him and your arms wrap around him too, returning the gesture right back. the faint smell of baby’s exhaust, something earthy along with the familiar scent of dean fills your lungs as your fingers ever so slightly grasp onto the back of his jacket, keeping him against you.

the muscles in dean’s shoulders relax the second your arms gently wrap around him. and oh god, he just really missed you—

“hi,” your voice is just as quiet when you greet dean in return, chin resting on his own shoulder. “how did it—”

you’re trying to ask how his hunt went, but before you finish, dean’s pulling you closer to him and squeezing the words from you. his hands slip more around your waist to hold you against him tighter, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. he just wants to feel you. you’re so warm, so soft— and goddamn, you smelled good, too. you always did. it was a little infuriating, actually.

dean knows he should probably let go, or at least respond, but he can’t find it in himself to let go yet— so instead he just holds onto you tighter. he still doesn’t respond to your unsaid question, simply standing there, holding onto you like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline.

you assumed something had happened on his hunt for dean to be acting this way— but you don’t press or force him to tell you what. you just wanted to be there for him right now.

“oh,” is what you end up softly replying with a little nod of your head against dean when he simply doesn’t answer your unfinished question. but you don’t let him go. hell no. you just pat your hand on the back of one of his shoulders, tightening your own grip on him in return. “sorry, de.”

and dean lets out a slow breath of… was that relief at your voice, at the nickname you’d had for him since the second (or was it third) hunt you’d ever worked on together? who the hell knows. he’s just so thankful you’re here, you’re hugging him, not pushing him away, you’re holding him— that you’re so close.

“no, it’s okay,” dean’s unusually soft voice, barely above a whisper, cuts through the silence.

“it— it was rough, that’s all," he mutters after a even longer while, his words tinged with a mixture of fatigue and… something else that you can't quite place.

you and dean were so close and pressed together with your combined tight grips— so much so that you swore you could almost feel his heartbeat. but it wasn’t uncomfortable. and it didn’t feel awkward. it never seemed to be with him. besides, by his (few) words, you could tell he needed this a lot more than he was letting on.

in all honesty, you were just glad dean was finally letting himself seek comfort for once in his goddamn life—

in you.

“yeah, i get it,” is what you reply with, just nodding against dean’s shoulder while tightening your own grip on him. without really thinking about it, you start to gently run one of your hands up and down his back while still wrapped up in him, palm and fingers trailing on the material of his jacket. “just glad you’re back.”

you can feel dean’s breath hitch at your touch— and for a moment, you hesitate your motions of your hand tracing along his jacket, but his grip on you unconsciously tightened, like he was clinging to you. so you continue doing it after that.

“yeah,” he murmurs, a faint huff of something like a laugh escaping him. “me too.”

and for a long while, dean just stands there wrapped up in you, his face still buried in your hair and part of your shoulder as he lets himself lean into that touch, absorbing its comfort. he grips onto the back of your shirt— and he could feel the tension start to melt away, the warmth mixed with the scent of you filling his senses and working magic on him.

dean stays quiet for several more moments, his face still buried deep in your shoulder, as if he was trying to hide himself from the outside world. his grip on you doesn’t loosen as he stands there, his body against yours. every breath he takes is deep, steady— like he’s grounding himself in this moment with you.

his words break the silence as a whisper against you after a while, the vulnerability clear in his low voice, his words almost like a confession.

“i… missed you.”

a small exhale you didn’t know you were holding releases when dean says that— and your hand falters. dean winchester, king of bottling up feelings and keeping them to himself just said he missed you. this was completely different than how he usually acted around you, but you didn’t mind.

“i missed you, too,” your own voice also quiet when you respond. it was only a few words, but you had understood what dean meant— in more ways than most would. which is why you don’t even attempt to tease him about it, replying with something between a sigh and a laugh at the realization. “like, a lot.”

dean’s grip tightens even further at your response, as if your words had a more profound impact on him than you could've ever imagined. he pulls you closer against him, the hardness of his body against yours should’ve been more uncomfortable, but it wasn’t.

there’s a moment of silence as dean just holds you, face still hidden, his chest rising and falling right against yours. each breath he takes is deeper, almost shaky, and for a moment, you can feel the slightest tremble in his grip.

his voice are soft, vulnerable in a way you’ve rarely seen from him. like he almost didn’t believe you.

“really?”

and you don’t falter your own grip for one second, despite the fact that this was completely out of character for him. you return the action, tightening your arms around dean before resuming running your hand up and down his back.

“yeah, really,” you nod against dean to confirm, letting out a soft exhale into his jacket. “i dunno, it was just… quiet here without you guys. always is.”

your words seem to soothe him— almost as much as your touch, your hug does. despite being strong both physically and mentally, dean seems to need this— and he doesn’t even really know why. he relaxes even more at your words, his body slumping against yours. it’s almost like he’s seeking every bit of comfort and warmth he can get from this— from you.

dean lets out a small, soft scoff, tinged with weary amusement. “yeah, i bet it was,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your . “must’a been like a vacation for you, huh?” there's a note of sarcasm there, like he’s trying to mask the intensity of the moment with something familiar— like he always did.

and you could have played along with dean’s attempt at lightheartedness— but honestly, you were too tired to make that effort right now. so you just shake your head a little against dean, voice much quieter than before.

“first day was nice,” you admit to dean, hands grasping the back of his jacket to keep him close to you before you close your eyes. “the rest were just…”

there’s a beat of silence as you trail off, and dean’s grip on you— if possible, tightens even further at your unfinished sentence, as if he was hanging on your every word, waiting for what you were going to say.

he lets out a small, soft breath, warm against your hair. “just... what?” he asks, his voice just as low as yours. there’s a hint of subtle unease at what you were going to say.

your arms don’t loosen when you feel dean’s grip grow just that much tighter— but you weren’t about to complain. you don’t answer right away, because the rest of your sentence was almost too embarrassing to admit.

but then again, you remind yourself: this was dean who you were talking to. he didn’t judge you for a lot of things you had once assumed he would judge you for. so you just huff out a quiet laugh into his shoulder that wasn’t really one at all— containing no humor and mostly self-deprecation.

“lonely.”

your admission hangs there between you both. it’s a simple word, but it hits dean harder than any blow he’s ever taken in a fight. because you get it. there’s a hitch in his breathing— the kind that gives away more than mere words ever could. he goes still for a moment, just letting your confession sink in, the quiet of the bunker feeling even more pronounced in that moment.

“yeah,” dean finally breaks the silence with a soft exhale against you, pulling you even tighter against him. “me, too.”

you relax a little after dean says that. it meant more than he knew. you weren’t sure how to explain it, but it felt like you and him… kind of supported each other, in a way. like the burdens you both carried separately, your own issues that you had, they seemed to be less overwhelming whenever you were even near each other. even if you and him didn’t actually know each other’s burdens.

there’s always been an understanding between you, a silent knowledge that sometimes words didn’t need to be said for the other to know what that person is thinking.

the atmosphere in the room feels different now, the silence less heavy than it was before, but the intensity and weight of the moment still weighs heavily in the air between you. it must be an interesting sight from the outside looking in— a six-foot hunter clinging onto you like you were the last thing on earth. but you didn’t mind. hell, it was comfortable.

dean’s grip on you remains just as tight— almost like he’s afraid to let go, afraid that you’ll slip away like some dream he only has once in a great while. he takes a deep breath, chest rising against you as he inhales, then exhales slowly. before he’d realized it, his fingers absentmindedly fiddle with a strand of your hair.

this level of closeness between you two was unfamiliar. of course, you’d hugged each other before and spent numerous times in close proximity—whether it be in the backseat of the impala when sam had to drive that one time or when you had to hide in a not-so-big broom closet from a wraith.

but this... this was different.

and you knew the uncomfortableness of seeking comfort better than most— but somehow, you never had an issue when you were the one who was comforting others. but still, this was new territory. you certainly hadn’t expected dean to hug you for this long tonight. truth was, you didn’t really didn’t want to let go. but you couldn’t say that to him. that would be too weird.

the library is silent, only the soft tick-tock of the old clock on the wall filling the air. there’s a vulnerability, an understanding greater than words in this moment that neither of you are used to— but strangely enough, it's also the most comfortable you’ve both felt in a long time.

and then, dean breaks the silence again— his voice so low, so quiet, that you almost miss it.

“don’t wanna let go.”

your gaze softens when dean says that— but you don’t loosen your grip on him. you weren’t sure exactly why he was so adamant on not letting go, or why he’d been hugging you like you’d almost died. but you don’t ask questions.

besides, dean’s been more vulnerable with you tonight than i’d ever seen or heard in all the years you’d known him. and when he admitted that? you knew you had to be there for him, in whatever way he wanted. so when you reply back, your words are just as quiet as his.

“well, you don’t have to.”

the words feel like a weight being lifted off dean’s shoulders. he clings to you even tighter, burying his face even deeper into your shoulder, like he was ashamed. he doesn’t say anything for a moment— instead, just taking deep breaths. because he’s struggling to keep his emotions intact.

finally, he mumbles into you again, his words muffled by your shirt.

“you promise?”

“yeah,” you echo back quietly, nodding your head against dean’s buried into you. “promise. we can stay like this as long as you want to.”

there’s no malice hidden in your words, or any hint of teasing— because it was nothing but the truth. you’d stay with dean for as long as he wanted you to. and you bury your face a little more into him when he does the same to your shoulder.

there’s another long moment of silence as dean holds onto you, his face still buried in your shoulder. normally, he’d be making some smartass comment by now, acting like his usual self— but he can't seem to find the words. or the energy.

dean huffs softly against your shoulder after a moment— the closest thing to one of his usual snarky remarks. but there’s a hint of hesitation in his voice when he speaks.

“what if i wanted to… all night?”

you’d half been expecting dean to brush off your words with a joke or at least something, but the tone of hesitation told you that he was being anything but that. you hesitate, but ultimately lift your head off of his shoulder— you don’t pull away fully, though.

and dean’s body visibly tenses when you pause and pull away slightly to look at him, and he’s almost immediately on the defensive— but relaxes a little when you don’t go far.

your gaze silently searches dean’s as you scrunch your eyebrows slightly. you knew that what he’d just asked you for was… different. and you didn’t have to ask him for clarification. you knew what he meant, why he was so hesitant. because this wasn’t going to be just hugging him anymore.

this would be all night.

and there’s a vulnerable look in his eyes when he lets his guard down just enough as you let your gaze linger on him. dean almost looks like a wounded dog right now, the exhaustion, the weariness making him drop his typical persona in favor of honesty— maybe even desperation, just this once.

from that look on dean’s face, he was not kidding about what he asked. the expression he had was one you hadn’t seen this intensely in a long time. you knew he wasn’t one to just ask something like this, either. not unless he needed it.

the thought of being so close to dean all night makes you a little nervous, but not as much to outright say no. so keeping his gaze, your voice is just as quiet as his was when you nod, breaking the silence of the library once again.

“then i’d say ‘get your pj’s on’.”

the way dean’s body relaxes in relief at your words is almost overwhelming. he’s still staring right into your eyes, the vulnerability almost raw. he manages to nod, searching your gaze. he’d been expecting a boatload of teasing with a side of humiliation— but he’d been proved wrong.

“yeah?” he almost whispers as he holds your gaze, eyes searching yours like he’s trying to read your mind. like he’s unable to determine if this is real. if you’re real.

“yeah,” you nod in return, a pang of warmth hitting you again as you look at dean right back. you’re both still standing so close together— and the air felt different, thicker when you take another breath. “s’long as you don’t kick me.”

dean appreciated the break in seriousness, more than you would ever know. something resembling a smile tugs on the corner of his mouth, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“no promises,” he murmurs back, something softer in his gaze as his eyes continue to rake over your face. “but i’ll try.”

“good,” you nod a little again, your own smile tugging on your face as your hands almost absentmindedly trail on dean’s arms— and his eyes literally almost flutter shut at the contact. “and you’re comin’ to my room. and you’re showering.”

dean raises an eyebrow and tries to ignore the warmth that stirred in his chest when you said that all authoritative-like— he swallows before he talks again.

“yes, ma’am.”

. • . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . 𖤐

dean knocked on your door before he entered your room not twenty minutes later— don’t ask him, but he showered faster than he ever did in his entire life. he wasn’t too keen on the why.

your head perked up from your pillows when you heard the knock, already under your blankets and— well, let’s be honest here: waiting for him you’d even already moved to the left side of your bed, so dean would have a spot.

a stupid, small part of you had doubts that dean would actually ultimately show up, but it was a little embarrassing how much relief you felt when you call out a soft “yeah”, signaling him to come in.

dean stepped into your room, the only light being from your barley-lit desk lamp. it doubled as a night light, so you didn’t trip over yourself after a midnight snack break.

dean might as well have been in heaven. or something pretty damn close.

of course, he’s been in your room before— but this felt much different than all the other times. because he was going to be sleeping here tonight.

everything felt heightened, more intense— but as dean shut your door, he also had an almost overwhelming sense of comfort. of home. like this is where he was supposed to be this entire time. he pushed those recurring thoughts and feelings he always felt when he was around you, but without first reminding himself that you had agreed to do this. the thought alone was almost enough to make dean’s heart do that thing it always did whenever he was around you.

he’d been lost in his own thoughts, barely even registering the fact that he’d made it to the edge of your bed. your bed. not his, not some old, dingy motel’s. it almost made him chicken out. until—

“as much as i’d like to see you stand there all night, i think you should probably lay down.”

there it was. your incomparable capability to snap dean out of his head, back to reality. he didn’t know how you did it— and to be honest, you didn’t really know, either. but you always could, even giving sam a run for his money.

dean doesn’t hesitate again. you’d already peeled back your covers for him, so he just lifted them up and got under them. like he belonged. as if he’d done so a million times before.

your bed, your sheets, your pillows— it was warm. and it smelled like you, tenfold. an equal blend of your fabric softener that only you used because dean said the teddy bear on the bottle looked at him weird and your shampoo that was way too expensive and you had to go to a separate store for.

dean knew you smelled good, that was no debate— but this was like he was wrapped in it. like he’d been earlier when he hugged you. and so close to how he’d always wanted to be wrapped up in you. yet he knew that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

besides, when was the last time dean winchester got what he wanted?

the answer?

right now.

your eyes hadn’t left dean’s figure when he finally lays down next to you, both now facing each other— it was strange actually seeing him in your bed after years of restless nights wishing he was.

and you could smell him, too— the faint scent of the soap you’d gotten him for his birthday, along with the tea tree shampoo sam kept hidden in the back medicine cabinet (but not well enough, apparently). you decided right then and there that the pillow dean’s head was currently resting on was the one you were going to sleep on after tonight, just so you could smell him after he was gone.

“how you wanna do this?”

dean’s uncharacteristically soft voice broke your thoughts, and you met his eyes when he spoke. his expression looked softer, too— almost hesitant. like he was uncertain. it was a look you rarely ever saw on his face. to see it now, in this way, was bittersweet. then it clicked.

he was nervous.

“however you want to,” is what you reply with, voice just as quiet as his. you reminded yourself that dean had asked for this. in your mind, it was only fair that he get a say. “whatever you need.”

whatever you need. well, dean needed to kiss you silly if it was the last thing he did, but not tonight. not here. he wouldn’t be able to take it if you rejected him in that way.

but he had to take some sort of risk right now. he couldn’t deny himself of it— of you any longer.

so before dean can talk himself out of it, he wraps an arm around you, closing the remaining distance— and to your surprise, he buries his head right into your chest, nuzzling against your shirt.

your breath hitches, and you hope to god that he didn’t hear that. but you don’t reject him. you just wrap your own arms around him, accepting him and his touch just as you had done earlier in the library.

dean would’ve made some joke about basically burrowing his face into your boobs. he didn’t really mean to— but his eyes had fluttered shut already, because you letting him, and you were warm, and you smelled good, and you were so soft.

he’d always loved that about you. from a distance, of course. it didn’t matter how many hardships you’d gone through; you were soft in every sense of the word, both physically and emotionally. and once when he’d taken a shower in your bathroom since sam was hogging the main one in the bunker, the whole damn place smelled like you. he found himself wanting to drown in it.

and hell. he wouldn’t even complain.

your free hand went into his hair at some point, and it took everything in him not to let out a noise. dean sighed a little into your shirt, his breath warm on your chest— he finally let himself relax. go slack.

and he was so grateful that you didn’t tease him, or point out the fact that all six feet and one inch of him was in your grasp and snuggling into you like some damn koala. like a little kid who had a bad dream. but then again, his life felt like a never-ending bad dream most of the time.

you were his one exception to that.

not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

you weren’t sure how long you both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other before dean breaks the warm blanket of silence— it could’ve been hours or seconds. but his voice is so low, so soft, you almost didn’t hear it.

“thanks.”

the word was spoken against you, dean still remaining unmoving. he didn’t necessarily think himself as weak at the moment, even though he thought he should— and he dared not to say it out loud, knowing that you’d immediately shoot his insecurities down.

but dean was finally letting himself get comfort. warmth.

something he’d had for a fleeting moment, then lost. something he had deemed too precious for a man as ragged and as sinful as him a long time ago. he didn’t deserve this. you.

he’d never be one to just take something like this, to ask this of you, without any regard for how you felt. but you showed— all you ever showed to him was the love he thought he’d never receive. the love he’d given so much away, but it never got returned back to him.

because you made him feel like he actually meant something. like he was the hero people he’d saved described him as. like he wasn’t some piece on a chessboard, a punchline in someone’s story, a puppet on a string, or a cog in some eternal machine.

truth was? the big secret?

you made him feel normal. human.

it was almost overwhelming, how safe, comfortable he felt right now. the last time he felt this safe, he’d been a child. the last time he felt this comfortable in himself— damn. it was before hell.

when it was just monsters of the week, the only big goal being finding his dad. staying at bobby’s. you had visited that summer. he can still remember your laugh echoing off of the wallpaper and the piles of books. it was before demons.

and the only angel he saw daily was you.

it was in the way the light shone in through the stained glass of one of bobby’s kitchen windows and hit your face, you making him coffee without being asked. when you smiled at him just because.

you treated him like a real friend. like family. like an equal.

sometimes, when everything in his head was too loud, dean missed it. when the only thought of lucifer he had was when he saw the cartoon on the bottle of the devil’s hot sauce at that barbeque place in texas. when everyone he loved and cared about was still alive. when the world wasn’t ending. when you kissed his cheek after not seeing him for a while.

you still did that last one, though.

“anytime, de.”

dean had flinched a little, but didn’t open his eyes after you replied—he had been too lost in the comfort. in you. he could die right now instead of sleeping, and honestly? it’d be a good way to go out. he’d prefer it over going down swinging any day, he decided.

dean got most of what he wanted tonight. maybe someday he’d get it all. but for now, he’d just dream of it, like he always did.

the only difference?

he was actually in your arms this time.

───────────────────────── 𖤐

you have one ( 1 ) more new message from the author ! ↓

i know i said it already, but i need to hold this man so so so BADDDDD 💔💔💔 he deserves everything and more like that’s my shayla ☹️ my baby my world my everything (he’s a murderer and monsters fear him)

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @bittersweetfig @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog @fuckedupfate @liiiilsss @angelblqde @vmiina @mahi-wayy @viarasvogue @tinas111 @0ccvltism + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

#faith’s works . . . @bejeweledinterludes!#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester fanfiction #dean supernatural #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader

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captainpriceslilwife · 1 month ago

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pt. 2 of the well-loved gaz x insecure!reader post!! (This is kind of a bridge to pt. 3, so bear with me PLEASE! I have more ideas for the next part, but I needed to get there first lol...hopefully this is good idk im nervous abt my newfound audience)

[part 1, part 2, part 3]

The rest of his night passed in a daze. He couldn’t stop stealing glances at the tiny little picture on your license while Johnny and Simon argued with each other about what he should do to try to win you back - but he could barely hear a word they were saying as he wiped away the sticky-sweet drink that was still dripping down his face.

“Ah’d give her a second ta calm down, ya ken? Go in the mornin’ and give her a chance to find her head.”

“Showin' up at her place unannounced after hanging onto her shit all nigh'? Yeah, that’d leave a good impression, wouldn’ it? No wonder you can’t get a bird, Johnny. Scarin’ ‘em all off.”

“Ach, ye’d know what tha’s like, wouldn’ ye? Spooky fuckin’ bastard. Ah bet women run the second they see tha' stupid fuckin' mask-”

"Whatever. Gaz, just give it to the bartender, yeah? Clearly she doesn't like ya'. She'll come back for it."

In the end, he ends up taking Johnny’s advice and decides to return your wallet in the morning – which maybe wasn't his smartest move. Especially since now he doesn’t have a lick of alcohol flowing through his system to calm him down as he walks along the sidewalk towards your place. He’s sure he looks crazy to everyone he passes – muttering to himself to try to coach himself through what he’ll say to you.

“Hey! Nah, uh…hello, how are you? No, I- fuck…” He shakes his head as he looks down at your wallet, twiddling the zipper between his fingers as he mumbles under his breath. “Hi, I’m Kyle…I’m the one who, um…who made you...cry last night. Ah, shit.”

He's never felt this way about a girl before - like a nervous, stuttering schoolboy. His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest, and he can feel the sweat beading on the back of his neck when he suddenly finds himself standing in front of your door.

You've got a sweet little welcome mat - covered in sunflowers and loopy letters - and he notices all the pots filled with plants and flowers that scatter around near your door. God, he's already thinking that you're the most precious thing in the world.

He doesn't know what it is about you that's affecting him so much. Is it because you rejected him? Is it a challenge to him? Does he just feel guilty? Or maybe it's because, for the first time ever, he's gone after a girl that he actually has to figure out. Women have always thrown themselves at him the moment he flashed a smile their way. But you...all you did was throw a drink in his face.

It takes him nearly a full minute before he finally knocks on your door, and he can't seem to figure out what to do with his hands as he waits for the sound of your soft, thudding footsteps to reach the door.

You're still puffy from crying yourself to sleep last night, but you open the door with a polite smile anyway - donned in your oversized cat pajamas without an ounce of makeup on - but your smile quickly falls when you recognize the man standing on your doorstep.

The unfortunately beautiful man who had woken up every insecurity you had in less than a minute of talking to you.

Your expression seems to cycle through a million emotions as you try to comprehend how he could possibly be here, but once you notice the teal wallet clutched in his hand, realization settles on your features as the embarrassment hits you.

He stands silent for a moment as he takes in how gorgeous you are despite your slightly disheveled appearance, and he can barely form a sentence as he lifts up your wallet with a sheepish smile. "You, uh…you left this at the bar, um…last night. Got your address from your, uh...your I.D.” Christ, he's lost all sense of charisma hasn't he? He holds onto the wallet for a horrifyingly awkward amount of time as he stares blankly at you, but he finally comes to his senses when you mumble out a quiet 'oh, thanks' and reach out to take it.

“I’m Kyle, by the way.”

He's never seen a girl look at him with such guardedness before - with your arms crossed protectively over your chest as you give him a tense smile. He can't tell if it's because of the whole incident from the night before, or if you're just freaked out that a total stranger went through all the effort to bring your wallet directly to where you live.

Probably both.

You clearly return his greeting just to be polite, murmuring your name quietly as you place your wallet off to the side.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He lets out an awkward laugh, but quickly backtracks when you shoot him a funny look. “I mean, from your license! I-It’s got your name on it. I only know it because it's...it's on the license.” He stutters out quickly as he shoves his hands into his pockets. God, he's losing it. His heart feels like it's going to explode. “I, um…it’s a gorgeous name, by the way. Suits you, you know?”

The compliment slips out naturally, but it only makes you tense up even more, and you suck in a tight breath as you begin to shift on your feet. Your fingers are itching to reach for the door to slam it in his face - arrogant prick thinking he can keep up his act from last night even though he practically sent you into a fit - but he interrupts your spiraling thoughts with a heavy sigh as he drops his charming smile.

“Hey, I...I just really wanted to say that I'm sorry, love. I didn’t mean to upset you like that last night.” His demeanor changes so drastically that you can't help but soften a bit, melting underneath his warm, pleading eyes enough to listen to him. "I think we had a bit of a misunderstanding...I wasn't making fun of you, love. Honest."

He seems so genuine about it that you can't help but feel a bit guilty. You had tossed and turned all night thinking about how shocked he had looked after your little outburst. You tried to stave of your regret by telling yourself that he had come over to you only to make fun of you like everyone else does, so technically he deserved it - but now you weren't so sure.

“Oh, well…I’m sorry for, you know…throwing my drink in your face.” You murmur sheepishly as you look down at your welcome mat - tracing one of the flowers with your fuzzy slipper before tilting your head back up to look at him with burning cheeks. “Wasn’t very mature of me."

“No, no, no...it's fine, really! If anything, I'm sorry you had to waste your drink on me. I mean, I know how pricey that place can get.” He lets out another laugh, but it's a bit less tense this time, especially when he sees the way your lips almost quirk up into a smile. It makes him feel bold enough to try to bring back the charm, and he can't stop himself from asking you, “You know…maybe I could, um…make it up to you sometime? Could buy you another drink?”

But once again, you pause. His persistence only makes you more suspicious of his motives, and it shows in how you tighten your arms across your chest. He can see your eyes flash with a pang of hurt, and he feels his heart clench as he fumbles over himself, growing less sure by the second. “O-Or just a coffee, maybe?”

“...Look, Kyle…” His heart leaps in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips, but your guarded tone is enough to smother the warm, fluttery feeling that had been building in his stomach. “Thanks for bringing me my wallet, but you’re wasting your time. I don’t know what kind of bet you have going with your friends, but I’m not going to fall for it, okay? I'm not...I'm not stupid.”

Stupid? His expression falls once more, and he gives you the most genuine look he can muster as he speaks up quietly. “I...I don't think you're stupid. There’s no bet, love. Honest.”

“A dare, then.”

“No dare, either.”

You let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes a bit before resting your hand on your hip, but your irritated demeanor doesn't hide the way your eyes are beginning to grow a bit watery and bloodshot as you murmur quietly. “Well, why are you doing this, then?”

His eyebrows furrow as he looks down on you, and he can't help but shake his head in disbelief as he takes a small step towards you. God, you were absolutely breaking his heart. Did you really think it was that unbelievable that he could like you? “I already told you, love. I think you’re absolutely gorgeous…and I know you don’t seem to like hearing that, but it’s true. And I know you're not just a pretty face, I just...I don't know anything else about you. But I'd like to...I'd like to get to know you.”

You don't seem moved by his words, but he can't see how your heart begins to pound wildly in your chest, grasping onto the small bit of hope that you had desperately tried to push down. You'd spent so long trying to protect yourself from feeling this way about someone, and he's already managing to sneak past those walls you had built up.

But your mind keeps replaying every moment of disappointment you felt when it came to men 'asking you out' - how people would laugh behind your back when you would get excited for a date with a guy they all knew was just messing with you, or how a boy in your class straight-up laughed in your face when you thought he was being serious about being his date to the prom. 'Shit, she actually fell for it! Damn, I didn't think she'd have the nerve to say yes! Ah, right, well...sorry love...just havin' a bit of a laugh, yeah? All in good fun.'

No, no, no...you couldn't fall for something like this again.

He can see the look in your eyes as you stay silent, and his heart pangs with guilt when he realizes how much he's probably torturing you. He decides to put you out of your misery, so before you can open your mouth to reject him again, he raises his hand to stop you. "Yeah, alright...I understand." A pathetic smile graces his features, and you can't help but feel a bit guilty at the look of disappointment on his handsome face. "Can't blame a guy for trying though, aye?"

You can't even tell if you're disappointed or relieved that he's finally given up, but you give him a grateful smile as you nod your head in understanding. Couldn't expect a guy that looks like that to put in too much effort with someone like you, right? "Right...yeah...thank for um, understanding."

"Of course..."

God, this is awkward.

The both of you stand and stare at each other for another moment longer before he turns to leave. But just as he turns to go, he stops in his tracks and thinks to himself for a second before letting out a puff of air before turning back to you. "Don't happen to have a pen, do you, love?"

You blink in surpise at the randomness of his question, but eventually nod your head and disappear for just a second before returning with one in hand.

If only you could see how nervously he tapped his fingers against the side his leg while he waited for you to come back - a habit he only ever indulged in when he couldn't contain his anxiety on missions. Something his captain always ragged on him for.

Yeah, he was absolutely hung up on you.

He tries to ignore how soft your hand is when he takes the pen from you, but he can't ignore the way your touch zaps up through his arm and straight to his heart. And from the way you tuck your arm back against your chest with hot cheeks, he can't help but wonder if you felt it, too.

He pulls a crinkled receipt from the pocket of his jacket as he gives you a nervous smile, almost like he's waiting for you to scold him for trying again. And if it isn't the most charming thing you've ever seen... “Listen…if you change your mind-“ His hand moves quickly to scribble something on the small piece of paper, and when he hands it to you, you see his number written in handwriting that is frustratingly neat for a man in a rush. “-just let me know. No pressure, of course. I’ll fuck off if you want me to, but…just thought I’d give you the option. Don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t at least offer to make it up to you.”

And you take that stupid, crinkled piece of paper from his hand against your better judgement, and to your chagrin you can feel your cheeks burning brightly enough for him to see. Luckily for you, he can't see the way your heart is dancing around in your chest at the prospect of actually having a chance with him.

"Right...ok." You mumble quietly as you stare down at his number, toying at the edges of the paper with your thumb before his voice catches your attention once more.

“Well, um…I should get going. I hope you have a good day, darling.” A part of you was horrified to realize that you didn't want him to leave just yet, but you just nod your head stiffly as he backs away from your doorstep. And god he gives you that handsome, charming smile one more time before he turns on his heel and calls over his shoulder. "I hope I get to see you again."

And you wave at him so awkwardly as he walks away, like a deer caught in headlights, but it makes his heart flutter all the same. He hopes that even if he doesn't get a chance with you, someone else will realize what a catch you are. Someone who will treat you the way you deserve. Someone like him.

It's not until much later in the day - when he's stuck in a briefing and trying not to fall asleep with Price's voice droning on johnny's already drooling on the table - that his phone vibrates in his pocket. He sneaks it out underneath the table to take a quick glance to see who could be messaging him, and his heart practically leaps out of his chest when he sees an unfamiliar number.

‘ok...maybe just one coffee.’

He can't help but smile to himself as he reads it, and before he can begin to type out a response, another message pops up on his screen. And another. And another.

'i mean, only if you're still interested, of course.'

'no pressure or anything :)'

'oh, this is y/n by the way!'

Yeah, you might be the sweetest girl he's ever met.

A/N: do I like this that much??? eehhhhhhhhhh idk. but i kept going back and forth and rewriting and deleting and i finally decided to put myself out of my misery. again, i'm so so so grateful to everyone who requested a part two for this and left support on the original post so i hope this meets everyone's standards! pls feel free to leave suggestions in my inbox or in the comments if there's anything specific you want to see (or request something else entirely)! i also wouldn't mind writing any alternate parts of the story if ppl request it so pls dont hold back! pls stay with me for pt. 3!!! also sorry if you requested to be tagged and i missed you!

Tag list: @vixyyvix, @little-mini-me-world, @miyo-0oo, @milanriol, @z-wantstowrite, @nexthyperfix

#captainpriceslilwife #cod x reader #cod imagine #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick imagine #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #insecure!reader #guys im scared! feeling like insecure!reader rn knowing that everyone is waiting on this lol #gaz x reader #gaz call of duty #gaz x insecure!reader

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reasonsforhope · 22 days ago

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"In the 1750s, an Italian farmer digging a well stumbled upon a lavish villa in the ruins of Herculaneum. Inside was a sprawling library with hundreds of scrolls, untouched since Mount Vesuvius’ eruption in 79 C.E. Some of them were still neatly tucked away on the shelves.

This staggering discovery was the only complete library from antiquity ever found. But when 18th-century scholars tried to unroll the charred papyrus, the scrolls crumbled to pieces. They became resigned to the fact that the text hidden inside wouldn’t be revealed during their lifetimes.

In recent years, however, researchers realized that they were living in the generation that would finally solve the puzzle. Using artificial intelligence, they’ve developed methods to peer inside the Herculaneum scrolls without damaging them, revealing short passages of ancient text.

This month, researchers announced a new breakthrough. While analyzing a scroll known as PHerc. 172, they determined its title: On Vices. Based on other works, they think the full title is On Vices and Their Opposite Virtues and in Whom They Are and About What.

“We are thrilled to share that the written title of this scroll has been recovered from deep inside its carbonized folds of papyrus,” the Vesuvius Challenge, which is leading efforts to decipher the scrolls, says in a statement. “This is the first time the title of a still-rolled Herculaneum scroll has ever been recovered noninvasively.”

On Vices was written by Philodemus, a Greek philosopher who lived in Herculaneum more than a century before Vesuvius’ eruption. Born around 110 B.C.E., Philodemus studied at a school in Athens founded several centuries earlier by the influential philosopher Epicurus, who believed in achieving happiness by pursuing certain specific forms of pleasure.

“This will be a great opportunity to learn more about Philodemus’ ethical views and to get a better view of the On Vices as a whole,” Michael McOsker, a papyrologist at University College London who is working with the Vesuvius Challenge, tells CNN’s Catherine Nicholls.

When it launched in 2023, the Vesuvius Challenge offered more than $1 million in prize money to citizen scientists around the world who could use A.I. to help decipher scans of the Herculaneum scrolls.

Spearheaded by Brent Seales, a computer scientist at the University of Kentucky, the team scanned several of the scrolls and uploaded the data for anyone to use. To earn the prize money, participants competed to be the first to reach a series of milestones.

Reading the papyrus involves solving several difficult problems. After the rolled-up scrolls are scanned, their many layers need to be separated out and flattened into two-dimensional segments. At that point, the carbon-based ink usually isn’t visible in the scans, so machine-learning models are necessary to identify the inked sections.

In late 2023, a computer science student revealed the first word on an unopened scroll: “porphyras,” an ancient Greek term for “purple.” Months later, participants worked out 2,000 characters of text, which discussed pleasures such as music and food.

But PHerc. 172 is different from these earlier scrolls. When researchers scanned it last summer, they realized that some of the ink was visible in the images. They aren’t sure why this scroll is so much more legible, though they hypothesize it’s because the ink contains a denser contaminant such as lead, according to the University of Oxford’s Bodleian Libraries, which houses the scroll.

In early May, the Vesuvius Challenge announced that contestants Marcel Roth and Micha Nowak, computer scientists at Germany’s University of Würzburg, would receive $60,000 for deciphering the title. Sean Johnson, a researcher with the Vesuvius Challenge, had independently identified the title around the same time.

Researchers are anticipating many more breakthroughs on the horizon. In the past three months alone, they’ve already scanned dozens of new scrolls.

“The pace is ramping up very quickly,” McOsker tells the Guardian’s Ian Sample. “All of the technological progress that’s been made on this has been in the last three to five years—and on the timescales of classicists, that’s unbelievable.”"

-via Smithsonian, May 16, 2025

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snoopyracing · 2 months ago

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rivals // ln4 & op81

part one

part two

pairing: lando norris X oscar piastri X reader

word count: 7k

warnings: cursing, alcohol use, slight suggestive content, lando X oscar content

summary: challengers!au.... when ferarri’s princess is forced to retire at the peak of her career she finds herself lost with no purpose. racing was all she had ever known and it was ripped right out from under her with no warning. feeling hopeless she pours her passion back into mentoring oscar piastri— mclaren’s reigning champion. old feelings emerge, rivalries reach their breaking point, and ex-teammates show up when oscar least expects it. yet all y/n wants to see is some good fucking racing.

a/n: so excited about this series omg!! please let me know what you all think!!

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The rumble of twenty V6 engines, pit crews and TV presenters talking, last minute checks over the car, fans roaring– it’s all background noise as you’re sat snugly in the cockpit of your race car, waiting for the formation lap to start. You close your eyes and take a couple deep breaths, grounding yourself as you try to prepare for the next heart pounding adrenaline inducing two hours. Your body relaxes and you allow yourself to enter racing mode, your senses are heightened, mind sharper than a tack. When you open your eyes you only see a clear track in front of you and a navy blue Red Bull to the left of you.

It was time.

If the giant Rolex branded clock didn’t confirm it for you then that static in your ear piece followed by 30 seconds till formation from your race engineer Alice did. You’re second on the starting grid, with Verstappen in front of you and your teammate Leclerc right behind him, you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. Not to mention that you’re in Monza this weekend, so a Ferrari 1-2 is the ultimate goal. Your visor comes down and your hands grip the wheel as the formation lap starts.

When you line back up on the grid you take one last final breath and wait for the famous five lights. The little red lights that let you know it’s time to unleash every ounce of talent, of wheel knowledge, everything you’ve got to be the first one to see the checkered flag waving.

The lights go out and away you go.

It’s an amazing start off the line from you and you’re able to quickly get past Max and become the new race leader, an advantage that you’re glad to have had considering Monza isn’t the easiest track to overtake on.

Beautiful Y/N - your race engineer's soothing voice fills your ears and for a second you can breathe, but it doesn’t last long because you know you’ve got Max Verstappen behind you. The man who will make a move if he sees the slightest opportunity and you know you’ve got to defend this position with your life. It makes you feel a little better knowing he’s got Charles behind him to keep him busy, but this is Formula 1 and things could change in the blink of an eye.

You’d held the lead beautifully for a quarter of the race, but on lap 15 of 53 you hear box box over the radio.

Seriously? You question back, knowing this was not the plan you’d gone with in your meeting this morning– or the other five million that Ferrari insisted on having. You wonder if maybe you’d been pushing too hard and ate away at the tires, but you knew that wasn’t true. Tire whisperer was your middle name and from what you could tell you still had a good amount of laps left on these babies.

Yes, box now. Alice’s voice is firm and the pit lane is fast approaching, so you obey orders and pull into the pit lane entry. It’s an insanely fast pit stop, but when you come back out onto the track and see that you’d been undercut by Max you’re immediately pressing the radio button.

Real nice pit stop timing– plan C is what I want now.

We don’t think that’s possible at this moment.

Well I’m making it possible.

Even though Max had undercut you, there isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’re not winning this race. You were leading this championship for a reason– you were the best and it was as simple as that. A little undercut wasn’t going to ruin this race, especially when these tires were going to last you for the remaining 38 laps.

It was crazy, you know, but taking risks was something you had to do in the world of Formula 1. So, you grip the steering wheel, take a deep breath as best as you can, flip Max the bird as you pass him and become one with your car.

On lap 45 of 53 you no longer see Max Verstappen in a Red Bull behind you in your mirrors, but the all too familiar red colored car reflecting back at you. As the laps wind down you can actually start to hear how loud the crowd is and when you’re the first to see the checkered flag you know tonight is going to be a night you won’t forget.

The crowd is electric, actually it’s more than electric. It's indescribable as you step out of the cockpit and carefully onto the top of the car that’s parked in front of the P1 placard. Your pointer finger proudly showing off your number one position to the multiple cameras pointed in your direction. Waves and kisses are blown towards the crowd before you’re quickly running over to your team and jumping into their arms over the barricades that are set up. Praises fill the air and when Charles finally comes over to the team it’s an even bigger celebration. You embrace your teammate, both of you congratulating each other before focusing back on the people who make all of this possible.

The cool water that awaits you at your pedestal feels better than winning for a brief second, your helmet and extra gear already ripped off you as you chug it down like liquid gold.

“You’re one crazy motherfucker you know that?” A familiar Dutch accent fills your ears as he pats you on the back.

“Just a casual Sunday drive for me.” You shrug your shoulders at Max, a smirk splayed across your lips as the bottle of water hovers near your mouth.

A team member directs you towards the area where the pre podium interviews will be held before you can discuss anymore with Max. A Ferrari cap sits atop your sweaty head as you speak with David Coulthard— your smile beaming as the adrenaline still courses through your veins. “Wow. I don’t even know what to say about your drive out there today. Was a one stop the plan all along or was that something you just ended up doing?”

The crowd is so loud you can barely hear him, the massive Ferrari flag waving in the grandstands behind him only adds to the atmosphere. “Yeah, I mean it wasn’t anyone’s favorite plan, but I knew when I came back out onto the track that these tires were gonna last me till I saw that checkered flag wave and they did. So I think that speaks for itself don’t you?”

He asks a few more general questions, but all you can think about is that podium and the feeling of the biggest trophy in your hands. “Always a pleasure talking to you and seeing you on that top step. Congratulations again Y/N.”

You give him a kert thank you before booking it to the cool down room and preparing yourself for the impending celebrations.

In the McLaren garage Lando watches the podium from the monitors. He knows he should be in the media pen, answering the same questions over and over again and he pretends not to hear his publicity agent holler his name. In his defense the TIFOSI are celebrating not that far away– it’s hard to hear anything over them and the Italian anthem filling the air. He’s experienced a podium in Monza once, but as a McLaren driver it’s never as special as if he were a Ferrari driver. The monitor that’s still playing the podium celebration is his only focus at this point and he doesn’t even notice Oscar coming up beside him. Lando’s too busy watching you get sprayed with champagne and the way you look with the said champagne dripping off of you. The way you look like you were meant to be up there with the thousands of fans screaming for you down below. The biggest trophy held high above your head as you smile out at the crowd.

“She’s something isn’t she?”

Lando jumps slightly at the sound of Oscar’s voice, yet his gaze never wanders from the screen. The Australian shuffles his feet to stand next to Lando, his eyes joining in on the spectacle on the monitor in front of them.

“Yeah she is.” Lando mumbles.

Truth be told you’re more than just something. You were a prodigy– a generational talent. People knew you’d be talked about as one of the greats forty years from now. It took blood sweat and tears and then some to become the first female Formula 1 driver, and you sure as hell weren’t going to be some mediocre driver who barely made it into the points every race.

You were here to win– to be the best and that’s what you are. Another twenty five points added to your championship lead and perhaps after you win the championship you’ll no longer be the Princess of Ferrari, but the Queen.

Lando watches as you grip the champagne bottle by its neck, lifting to your lips and taking a long swig from it. “I’d let her fuck me with that bottle.” He doesn’t even realize he’s said that out loud until he hears Oscar scoff from beside him.

“Of course you would.”

Oscar would too– he just has a better filter than Lando.

Charles, Max, and you pose for some pictures and then with a final wave to the crowd you’re off the screen and the cameras change to the season's stats so far. Lando turns to face his teammate with nothing shy of a serious look on his face. “We are going out tonight.”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows, there was nothing to really celebrate tonight. “We barely made it into the points. Is that really worth going out for?”

“We aren’t celebrating us you muppet. We are celebrating Y/N.”

“Ah of course, because we are so close to her. She probably wouldn’t even let us near her section if we tried.”

Lando rolled his eyes at Oscar– he could be so pessimistic sometimes. So what if Lando could count on one hand how many times he’d held a conversation with you that lasted longer than a minute. That didn’t mean you didn’t like him. In fact, maybe you liked Lando so much that you kept your distance to remain professional. Either way he was going to actually talk with you tonight and yeah it was unprofessional, but if things escalated tonight, he wouldn’t oblige.

The sound of Lando and Oscar’s names echoed through the McLaren garage and in an instant both of their publicity agents were now standing in front of them, unimpressed looks on their faces as they dragged the two drivers towards their interviews.

“I’ll get the details from Carlos alright? Don’t sit around in the room tonight– live a little Oscar.” Lando says as they enter the chaos that is the media pen.

Oscar only nods at his teammate as his agent is already pointing him in the direction of his first interview.

A perk of the McLaren boys being so late to do their interviews is that they get the privilege of being in the pen at the same time as the three podium placers. Max and Charles walk in first, but no one pays that much attention to them.

When Y/N waltzes in– now that’s a different story.

There’s an immediate surge of energy in the air. Your name is echoed through the air like a prayer and each press official wants to be the first person to interview the race winner– to interview you. Your smile lights up the room and you don’t even look like you’ve just been through a grueling two hours in a race car. You’re radiant and everyone’s eyes are on you, even the ones that were mid interview.

When you end up next to Oscar in the pen he feels the air escape from his lungs. He tries to act cool, like he didn’t even notice you next to him, or that he wasn’t freaking out like a fanboy right now, but he totally was. It also seemed that the person interviewing him was more focused on you than Oscar, their eyes glancing over towards you every few seconds, but Oscar couldn’t blame them one bit.

He thinks he blacks out for a moment when you leave to go to your next interview and you smile at him. It wasn’t even a full teeth smile, just a small one that you’d give to a person in public on the sidewalk. Yet it made him weak in the knees– his hands gripping the barricade as he tried to collect himself.

Oscar had talked to you even less than Lando, but he’d come to the conclusion that you smiling at him outweighed all of Lando’s conversations. And his previous doubts about going out tonight had suddenly vanished. He was a man on a mission and you were that mission.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The music pounds in your chest as you sit on the plush velour couches in the VIP section of this random club in Monza. Strobe lights move across the room and the faint smell of marijuana fills your noise while you’re sipping on what was clearly not your first drink of the night. Charles sat across from you with whatever girlfriend this was at the moment and a couple other drivers that you liked well enough to invite out.

It was times like this that you thought that maybe you should be a little more outgoing in the friend department, but you weren’t here to make friends. Sure you talked to the guys– you weren’t rude, but it was always professional conversations– always consisting of racing.

You were close with Charles, purely because he’d been your teammate for the past two years, but other than that you didn’t pay much mind to anyone else on the grid. You were here to win races, not form lifelong friendships, but that didn’t mean you didn’t like to have a little fun every once in a while.

Which was what you planned on doing tonight.

Oscar and Lando seem like two middle school boys with no date to the Valentine’s day dance as they stand awkwardly near the bar. The music is deafening and Lando’s mad that Carlos, who was the one person who could have gotten them into your section, decided to bail on coming out tonight at the last minute. The last hour had been spent on trying to figure out how to get in without Carlos, but they both seem to be failing in the brainstorming department tonight.

Lando’s ordering another drink from the bartender when he feels a sharp jab in his side. He turns his head to find Oscar pointing out towards the dance floor– his eyes follow Oscar’s line of direction and what he sees has his mouth agape.

There you are on the dance floor– in a red dress that fits you perfectly and teases anyone who was looking. You stand out, like a beacon of light and Lando and Oscar were sailors lost at sea. The way your body moves along to the rhythm and you seem to get lost in the music. It’s a sight that neither of them can seem to tear their eyes away from. That is until you decide to head back to your section and before Oscar can oblige Lando decides their best option for tonight.

“Let’s just go and talk to her.” He grabs Oscar by the hand, his shoes dragging against the sticky floor as Lando pulls him towards you. Oscar knows there’s no real plan in place and he fears they’re going to make fools of themselves.

Once they make it through the sea of sweaty bodies a red velvet rope and a burly bouncer are all that separates the two McLaren drivers from you. The bouncer stares down at them– his expression stone cold as he crosses his massive arms over his chest, muscles bulging under his shirt.

“Sorry. Invite only.” His Italian accent is thick as he speaks to them.

“We know her. We’re drivers too– for McLaren.” Lando counters back, praying it’s enough for the man to lift the rope and let them pass.

The bouncer stares at them, squinting his eyes like he’s trying to tell if they are actually who they say they are. For a brief second they think the man recognizes them, but their hopes were crushed as soon as they appeared. “Invite only.” The bouncer states again as he stands there like a brick wall.

Lando cranes his neck around the man, looking into the VIP section, hoping someone recognizes him and Oscar, but the person who comes to their rescue is the last person either of them expected.

The red dress is what catches Lando’s eye first and when his eyes travel up and land on your face he gulps. There you are standing behind the rope that’s been their main obstacle tonight and when you lean over towards the bouncer and whisper something in his ear the man seems surprised.

If Oscar was as good at reading lips as he thought he was it looked like the man mouthed something along the lines of are you sure back at you. You nodded your head firmly towards the man before sitting back down on the plush couches, your lips wrapped around the straw from your drink as you stare down the two McLaren boys.

Oscar and Lando think they’re dreaming when they see the bouncer lift the rope and motion for them to enter. Oscar feels like his feet are stuck on the floor, he never thought they’d get this far tonight, especially after Carlos bailed on them. He feels Lando’s hands on his back, pushing him forward while mumbling something about hurry up before she changes her mind.

They’re both stumbling messes as they hurriedly enter the VIP section. They hear some of the other drivers greet them, but their attention is lasered in on you. How you’re sitting there sipping your drink and looking like the sexiest and scariest woman they’d ever met.

There’s a beat of silence for a moment between the three of you as you all just stare at one another– some rap song fills the silence as the bass vibrates in everyone’s chest.

Oscar notices how your gaze lingers on Lando more than him and he realizes he needs to be the one to speak up first. “You were fucking incredible today.”

Your eyes immediately dart over to Oscar and a smile creeps its way onto your face. “Thank you.”

“No really. It was like something completely different to what everyone else was doing out there today. It was like it wasn’t even racing.”

You simply nod at him, what were you supposed to say to him? You knew you were good.

Oscar looks around his eyes identifying the other drivers who’d been graced with a prior invite into your section. Leclerc, Hamilton, and Albon, but no Verstappen. “Max didn’t want to come out tonight?”

You scoff and shake your head at the Australian. “He only likes to celebrate when he’s on the top step, not the bottom one. He’s a sore loser– probably already on his private jet back to Monaco as we speak.” Someone comes over with a tray full of shots and sets them down on the nearby table. You grab one for yourself and motion for the boys to grab one as well. “Go on, have a little fun. You two did pretty decent for yourselves today didn’t you? You both scored points if I recall correctly?”

Lando and Oscar both nod and grab a shot glass from the table, quickly downing it before setting the glass back down. They watch you as your lips wrap around the shot glass and you tilt your head back, letting the liquid burn as it goes down your throat. When you set the shot glass back down you notice the boys standing there like lost puppies. The awkwardness and nervousness radiating off them makes you giggle. You knew the power you had over men and oh was it such a fun game to play.

“I heard through the grapevine that you’re doing Formula E next season. Did you lose your seat or what?”

Lando’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head– he’d not spoken to another soul about it, besides Zak. “How did you even know about this? But no, I didn’t lose my seat. I wanted to explore other forms of racing. Trust me– my seat will be waiting for me when I’m done.”

You nod at the British driver as your eyes flicker over to Oscar, who you know is thinking the same thing. No one who makes it to Formula 1 just decides to pursue other types of racing— maybe once you’ve left your mark, but not a handful of years into your career. You guess you all would see if he did still have his seat when the time came. “It’s Formula 1 darling. There’s no such thing as secrets in this career field. The paddock whispers and the majority of the time she’s never wrong.”

The club starts to feel suffocating and Lando uses his need for fresh air to maybe get you away from the chaos for a moment. “Do you smoke?”

You raise your eyebrows at him in surprise– a small laugh spilling past your lips. “Cigarettes?”

“Yeah.”

“No. Do you?”

“Yeah. Do you wanna go outside?”

You glance over at Oscar who seems less than impressed with Lando at the moment, but you’re intrigued to see where this goes. So, you stand up, smooth the front of your dress and let Lando and Oscar lead the way.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The fresh air feels amazing when it hits your skin, it makes you feel alive–awake almost. You’re grateful there’s only two people out here in the little smokers area, the last thing you need is for people to be shoving their phones in your face. You notice Lando pull a pack of Marlboros from his jacket pocket and then proceeds to pull a cigarette out before handing the pack to Oscar who copies his actions.

You three sit at one of the little tables set up outside and you watch as they smoke their cigarettes. “This isn’t the eighties anymore. Do your trainers know you guys smoke?”

“If the drivers back in the day could do it why can’t we?” Lando says as he takes a particularly long drag.

“Like I said it’s not the eighties anymore.” You taunt. Oscar quickly puts his out with the heel of his shoe before you start in on him. He never really liked cigarettes to begin with, but then he started hanging around Lando and well now everytime he drank he craved one. “See, this is your problem. You think racing is about trying to be like the ones who came before you or that it’s some image you have to fit into. That’s why you’re stuck fighting for P10.”

“We don’t necessarily have the best car at the moment.” Lando counters back, flicking the ash off his cigarette as he eyes you.

You shake your head at him. “Yeah, but having a good car is only a small fraction of the bigger picture. To be honest you’re not actually a Formula 1 driver. You don’t even understand what racing is.”

Lando smirks as he takes another puff from his cigarette, the smoke billowing in your face. “What is it then?”

“A relationship.”

He scoffs at your answer. “Is that what gets you all those wins? Seeing racing as a relationship?”

“It is actually. When you become one with your car, with your team, engineer, everyone that makes this whole thing run you’ll understand. You’ll feel it and it’s like you all understand each other. It’s some fucked up version of love, but it’s there. It’s like I’m sometimes not there in my body when I’m driving and the part of me that is in this relationship takes over and I just exist in that moment. Racing– being a Formula 1 driver is more than just driving a fast car and living a luxurious lifestyle. It’s a commitment and when that commitment is taken seriously the outcome is beautiful.”

Oscar had never heard someone talk about racing like that before, but it made sense, especially coming from you. Everytime you got in that car your drive was like a piece of art. Every win of yours deserved to be in the Louvre. You truly were the face and epitome of what was Formula 1.

Your phone lights up with a notification and when you see just how late it is you know it’s time to call it a night. “Well boys. It was nice to chat with you, but it’s time for me to head back to the hotel. See you at the next race.” You give them a small wave goodbye and head back towards the chest rattling music.

Lando sits up in his chair, the night had just begun and he was far from done talking to you. “Wait!” You stop walking and turn on your heels to face the boys, an eyebrow raised in question. “Are you on Facebook?”

You audibly laugh in Lando’s face at his question. “Facebook? Is this 2010?”

Oscar speaks up for the first time since you three came out here. “I think he’s trying to ask for your number, which is what I’m also doing… right now.”

Your eyes dart back and forth from Oscar to Lando. “I don’t doubt you both follow me on Instagram. Is that not enough?” Oscar and Lando feel their stomachs drop, they knew they shouldn’t have gotten so ballsy with asking for your number. When they don’t answer you realize how serious they are about it. “You both want my number– for real?”

Oscar and Lando vigorously nod their heads at you, clinging onto the last little bit of hope they have.

“I’m not a home-wrecker.”

“We don’t live together.” Oscar states as he watches your hair gently move with the night breeze.

Lando doesn’t miss a beat with his reply. “It’s an open relationship.”

“Also Lando has a girlfriend.”

“I do not!” Lando slightly raises his voice towards his teammate. The asshole was clearly trying to get one up on him.

You laugh at their antics, they were such desperate needy boys and you were loving this.

Lando shuffles forward in his seat, his elbows resting on the table as he leans forward. “Why don’t you come hang out with us later? We’re all at the same hotel. We’re in room 231.”

Oscar’s head whips around to look at Lando, he was not expecting to have a sleepover tonight.

You laugh a little at his proposition. “Is money that tight at McLaren that they’ve got you two sharing rooms?”

Lando and Oscar glance at one another, the answer was yes, but they weren’t going to say that. “No, it was a hotel mistake.”

“You want me to come tuck you in?” Your tone is nothing shy of teasing.

“No. We can just keep talking about… racing.”

They were determined– you’d give them that. You had never paid much mind to the McLaren boys, but after your interaction with them tonight you were intrigued to say the least. A small smile stretches across your face as you bid the boys farewell once more. “Goodnight.”

You know they watch you walk all the way to the door and you know they’ll be waiting all night for you to show up.

It’s not butterflies that you feel in your stomach when you realize just how tightly you’ve got them wrapped around your finger already– no it’s something much stronger than that.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Later the night Lando and Oscar wait impatiently in their shared hotel room for you to show up. The AC rattles and the TV plays some random Italian show that Oscar pretends to watch.

“She’s not coming.” Oscar states after the end credits roll on what he thinks is the third episode of the show.

“She might.” Lando’s lounging on his bed, aimlessly scrolling through his phone.

Oscar glances over at Lando. “You made it sound like we wanted to fuck her in here.”

Lando scoffs. “Well we do want to fuck her in here.”

“What exactly was your plan with this invitation? I mean let’s say she did come over. We both keep desperately trying to shoot our shot and hope that she ends up making out with one of us? What’s the other person supposed to do? Go sit in the bathroom?”

Lando shrugs, he hadn’t thought that far in advance, but it didn’t sound like a horrible plan. “Sure, if it came to that.” Oscar laughs at how unbelievable Lando sounds right now. Really he’d like nothing more for you to show up at their door and have your way with him, but Oscar was realistic– Lando not so much. “What do you think it’s beneath you? Is Oscar Piastri too good to take one for the team and wait it out in the bathroom?”

“I think it’s beneath her.” Oscar had realized that The Princess of Ferrari was definitely taking pity on them earlier. And if you did show up at their room tonight then maybe Oscar would start to believe in a higher power.

“What if she chooses you? You’d have no trouble sending me away.”

Oscar rolls his eyes at his teammate. “She’s not coming, Lando.”

Then as if the universe wanted to humiliate Oscar there��s a knock at the door. The boys halt their movements and lock eyes, wondering if they’d just heard the knock in their heads. Then as if on cue another knock sounds on the door and their both scrambling to straighten the room as quickly as possible.

On the other side of the door you can hear them clambering around and shouted whispers echoing through the room. You smile as you imagine the undeniable chaotic scene unfolding on the other side of the door. You hear the door opening and you quickly step back, you didn’t want them to know you were eavesdropping.

When the door opens there stands Oscar and Lando, both with only boxers on, but Lando’s the only shirtless one. You can feel their eyes burning into your skin– you’d perhaps worn the shortest athletic shorts you own and a cute little jacket on purpose.

“Hi.” Comes from both of them, but you only greet them back with a smile.

You three sit on the carpeted floor and talk about dumb shit like what junior series you raced in and if Oscar’s boarding school experience was like the crazy stories you’d heard of. The mini bar was soon fully raided and combined with the prior drinks from the club– you were feeling a little out there with your questions.

“How often does this happen?” You motion between the three of you with your almost empty seltzer can. “You guys going after the same girl?”

“Not as often as you’d think actually.” Lando states as he takes a swig from his drink.

“Really?” You don’t believe him one bit.

Oscar shakes his head. “We don’t usually have the same type.”

“Are you saying I should be flattered?”

“No… I mean you’re everyone’s type, aren’t you?” Oscar states like it’s a known fact.

Which, in all honesty, it practically was a well known fact. You never had an issue in the relationship department. Men and women– they both loved you and wanted you, and well the feeling was mutual. You were comfortable with your sexuality, but you could feel the tension or unexplored tension between Lando and Oscar. They were both too needy and pathetic looking to not be at least a little curious and you were going to be the one to get the ball rolling.

“What about the two of you?” You ask, your head spinning with endless possibilities.

Oscar furrows his eyebrows at you. “What do you mean?”

You don’t say anything– you just keep looking at them. Waiting for one of them to crack.

“Oh. No… is that surprising?” Oscar’s cheeks start to turn pink when he understands just what you were insinuating.

Yes it’s surprising you think– what F1 driver didn’t have a little fruitiness to them?

Then you see Lando with a weird smile on his face and you know you’ve hit the jackpot. “What is it?”

“Well…”

“No.” Oscar is furiously shaking his head at Lando, he does not want you to know about this, but he can already tell his actions are futile.

“Tell me.” You straighten your posture, attention solely focused on them and what Lando’s about to spill.

Lando keeps teasing and Oscar can tell you're absolutely chomping at the bit to hear this, so he concedes. Maybe you’re drunk enough to forget this in the morning. “Just tell her.”

You watch as Lando’s eyes travel from you to Oscar and then back to you. The anticipation is killing you and just when you think you can’t wait much longer Lando speaks.

“Oscar and I have jerked off together before.”

The image of it flashes in your brain and it’s everything you could have thought of and more. “Like you helped each other or?”

“No. We were always in separate beds.” Oscar explains but when your eyes widen he realizes what he’s said.

“You’ve done it more than once?”

Oscar’s scrambling to do damage control while Lando sits there with a grin on his face. “Twice! That was it and it was during a triple header both times… can you blame us?”

You put your hands up in defense. “I’m not judging.” Judging was the last thing you were doing– fantasizing was more like it.

There’s a beat of silence between the three of you and when you down the last of your drink you realize what you had was the last of everything. “We’re out of drinks.”

You all glance at one another– not sure where to go from here. Do you leave? Do you stay? Do you try to get more to drink? Then as abruptly as you decided to do a one stopper during the race earlier, you get up from the floor and take a seat on the end of one of the beds.

“Come here.” You command.

The boys look at one another and then over to you, neither of them moving.

“Um– which one of us?” Oscar asks.

Lando on the other hand doesn’t wait for you to answer. He’s up off the floor and next to you on the bed faster than the car he drives on Sundays. Oscar quickly follows suit– settling in on the other side of you.

You feel both of their eyes on you, the anticipation killing them, and the fact that you’re fully in control at the moment. You look back and forth between the boys, almost like you’re playing eeny meeny miny moe with them. After what seems like a tantalizing few seconds you land on Oscar and you can feel the nervousness and desire radiating off of him.

You lean in and capture his lips in a kiss– it’s sweet and he kisses you with a softness that somehow had you craving more, but you knew you had Lando waiting his turn. So before you got carried away you broke apart from Oscar and turned to face Lando. He’s eager and wastes no time once you lean in towards him. His lips are rougher and kissing Lando is the complete opposite of kissing Oscar. Lando’s more passionate and rushed and he’s more handsy than Oscar. It’s like day and night with them.

You pull away from Lando and then after a few seconds they both lean in at the same time to kiss you. It’s awkward at first– heads are bumped and giggles travel softly through the air, but eventually you make it work and you’re kissing them both at the same time. It quickly turns more heated, tongues dancing with each other, mouths moving in sync. It's messy and hot and none of you can seem to get enough– hands are everywhere and you all get lost in the moment.

That’s until an idea sparks in your brain and you find yourself slowly backing out of the kiss and before you know it you’re leaning back on your elbows watching the show in front of you.

For a moment Oscar and Lando get lost in one another. Their eyes are closed yet their mouths work together like they’ve mapped every inch of one another. It makes you wonder– hope that they’ve done this before. It’s like a work of art in front of you and you find yourself getting lost in the way they kiss one another, but you know you can’t be greedy if you want to make whatever this is last. So, you sadly interrupt the two drivers.

“Okay.” They immediately break apart, eyes wide as they realize what they’ve been doing. “I’m going to bed.” You get up and head towards the door, acting like this hadn’t just made you feel crazy.

Lando and Oscar are feeling fifty million emotions at the moment but when they see you head towards the door Lando realizes he hadn’t gotten what he asked for in the beginning. “What about your number?”

You’d just made out with them and they're still so hung up on your damn number? “I told you I’m not a home-wrecker.”

“Please.” Oscar knows he sounds desperate, but that’s because he is.

You think for a moment, you could just give them your number, or you could make this a little fun. And with you fun is always going to win. “Alright. How about this? I would say whoever wins the race would get my number, but we know that's not going to happen. So whoever places higher up at the next race can have it.”

Lando smiles, but Oscar feels the loss already. You notice how starkly different their reactions are and you focus your attention on Oscar. “You can beat him. You should beat him, actually.”

Lando doesn’t know if he should take offense to what you’ve said or use it as fuel to beat Oscar tomorrow. Either way he doesn’t appreciate the sudden favoritism towards Oscar at the moment.

“Are you saying you want me to?” Oscar’s confused as to what you meant.

“I’m saying you’re not going to get my number if you don’t.”

“Yeah, but what do you want?” Oscar asks and you all know he’s not implying what you want but who.

“I want to see some good fucking racing.”

Silence fills the hotel room for a brief moment before you bid them goodnight and walk out the door.

The boys sit there shell shocked, still processing what had taken place moments ago and your words still hanging heavy in the air. They both knew they had to lock in and do everything in their power to beat one another at the next race– and to them your phone number meant more than a trophy or points at the moment.

Lando glances over at Oscar, but his eyes travel down south when he spots something out of the corner of his eye. “Need some help with that?”

Oscar looks over at Lando and follows his gaze down to his raging erection. He punches the Brit in the arm before abruptly standing up. “Fuck off Lando.” He hollers as he heads towards the bathroom.

“Maybe we can tell Y/N it was three times instead of two!” Lando laughs as he leans back on the bed with his arms behind his head. He was determined to get your number– come hell or highwater.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Two weeks later Formula 1 is racing in Baku. You haven’t spoken to Lando or Oscar since that night, but the whole weekend you’ve been catching their eye, fleeting glances are shared during media day, and when you stand somewhat close to them during the driver’s parade they both feel like they're going insane.

Sunday arrives and you’re on the top step again and when the celebrations are over you watch the race in your hotel room that night. A smirk paints itself across your face the longer you watch, the McLaren boys didn’t disappoint. They put on a good fucking show from the midfield and when Lando sees the checkered flag before Oscar you’re pulling out your phone and pulling up his contact– a favor from Carlos.

Your fingers type out the message– the intent behind it is clear as day and when you press send you wait for the knock at your door.

you: congrats P8 winner. i think you deserve a more elaborate prize, don't you?

A few weeks later Lando and Oscar are at the MTC doing some training, sim work, media obligations– all the fun stuff. They’re in the gym doing weights when Oscar asks the question.

“You fucked her yet?”

Lando sets the dumbbell down, surprised at what came out of Oscar’s mouth. “I’m not telling.”

“What do you mean you won’t tell me?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.” Lando shrugs.

Oscar scoffs as he does a few more reps. “Since when?”

“Since she told me she’d stop seeing me if I told anyone.” Lando says matter of factly.

“Well she had to know you’d talk to me.”

Lando stares at Oscar for a moment, amazed at how adamant he is to hear about him sleeping with you. “Isn’t this hard for you to hear? Do you like torturing yourself or something?”

“I’m happy for you really.” Oscar replies, but his heart isn’t in it. “Just give me a sign to tell me. If you aren’t going to say it outloud give me a sign. At the next race if you two slept together, wave at me or something.”

“You want me to wave at you while I’m driving a car at 200 miles per hour?” Sometimes Oscar was a freaking idiot and this was one of those times.

“Yeah. It’s simple enough, but I’ll know what it means.”

With a smirk on his face Lando shakes his head at the Australian, he knew this wasn’t going to end well, but he’s a man of his word. “Alright.”

At the next race as they’re nearing the last few laps Lando manages to overtake Oscar and as he passes him Oscar sees Lando’s gloved hand sticking out as best as he can and the unmistakable action of waving taking place.

He feels his stomach practically drop out of his ass and the sound of two more cars overtaking him doesn't bother him one bit. He knew they had to be hooking up, but the reality of it made him want to be sick. It should be him with you, not Lando. Anger courses through his veins and in the post race team meetings he won’t even look in Lando’s direction.

The rest of the season is played out as civilly as it possibly can be. Oscar’s still bitter about losing you to Lando, but knowing that he’ll be gone next season heightens his spirits somewhat. Lando and you continue to secretly hook up and you wonder if you actually have feelings for him or not.

Racing is still your number one priority of course and no one, especially not Lando, is a distraction to you in your pursuit of that championship title. The last few races you work your tail off training and honing your racing craft. It’s a close title fight between Max and you and when it comes down to Abu Dhabi you know this is what all these years of blood sweat and tears have been for. You’re pushing the car to the maximum channeling every bit of strength and knowledge you have to win.

And when you’re the first to see that checkered flag you don’t even feel like you’re in your body. It’s all a blur, it’s surreal, and when you’re holding that championship trophy with the biggest smile on your tear stained face you know you deserve this more than anyone. As the congratulations and celebrations begin you realize how addicting this is and you know that this is the beginning of a new era for you. A champion era.

Yet some eras, though they are mighty, are shorter than others.

#lando norris #oscar piastri #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris smut #oscar piastri smut #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #oscar piastri imagine #f1 imagine #mine #writing #challengers au

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g0dlyunsub · 10 months ago

Text

for the night.

the flight back from a case gets delayed and the team’s forced to book rooms for the night. what a coincidence that you’re paired with spencer.

pairing :: s5!spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: fluff, flustered spencer, this is literally just an excuse to write about spencer with crutches

word count :: 1.7k

author’s note :: one of my favorite tropes asfdfafssfsd we all know where this is going right ;)

accompanying song :: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas

“i have to admit, i am quite surprised. engine failures are extremely rare — statistically, they only occur once every 1.4 million flight hours.”

“uh-huh, very interesting.” you roll your eyes, but the smile that tempts to play on your lips is too overpowering to withhold.

“it is!” spencer excitedly flashes you a smile. “we’re actually incredibly lucky to avoid an in-flight shutdown, which typically happens once per million flight hours-”

“reid, i think our luck might be running dry here. it’s 1 a.m., the jet’s engines are acting up, and we can’t leave portland.”

you take both of his crutches in your hands with an exasperated sigh. it’s not his fault, and you know better than to project your annoyance at him, but the disappointment of not being able to enjoy a nice, hot shower in the walls of your home has you uptight.

with an apologetic smile, you extend your shoulder to spencer; slowly, he places his hand on you, and you help him carefully descend the jet’s stairs.

the two of you are the last to join the rest of the group on the ground, and hotch sends an acknowledging nod in your direction once he sees that you’ve been assisting spencer.

“l/n, reid, you guys okay with rooming together for the night?”

the words don’t initially register, and it’s only until spencer speaks up that you realize hotch isn’t asking – he’s confirming.

“we’re rooming in pairs?”

hotch nods, and his sidelong stare roams over spencer’s face like he’s challenging him to continue, to contest his proposal.

“emily? jj?” you pipe up this time, sending a pleading glance at both of them. they look back at you with sheepish smiles.

“it looked like you guys were having a really good conversation back there. didn’t want to disturb you,” emily returns, slowly raising her shoulders and mouthing sorry.

spencer clears his throat and leans into your ear. “i can probably book a room at another place-”

you widen your eyes and immediately shake your head. “no, that’s not necessary, i’m completely fine with it! unless you’re… not?”

this time, spencer’s the one shaking his head fervently. “oh no, i’m entirely comfortable, perfectly content, uh- sharing a room with you.”

you display an awkward grin. “alright then, perfect.”

—

“i’ll set your bag on the table, is that okay?”

“yeah, thanks a lot.”

you heave a sigh of relief as you close the door behind you and rest spencer’s bookbag on the wooden table. spencer slowly lowers himself into a chair, and you gently lean his crutches against the walls near the door.

you’re pleasantly surprised by the room’s decor; its soft carpet floor and mahogany picture frames hanging from the walls easily exceed your expectations for a traditional hotel room.

you’re about to make a comment commending the room’s quality when your eyes zero in on a terrifying sight.

there’s only one bed.

you do a double take, circling around the bedroom once more to check if there’s an extra mattress lying around somewhere – at this point, you really wouldn’t mind if the bed has a trundle.

“fuck me.”

“what?”

spencer’s eyes immediately divert to you, and he stifles his reaction to your comment with a hasty cough.

you point to the bed, which prompts spencer to crane his neck to get a better view.

“there’s only one bed.”

spencer’s eyes widen, and his gaze snaps up to your face so fast you wonder if you’ve just made a grave mistake of telling him.

he was bound to find out anyway.

“it’s okay, i’ll take-” you start, but he cuts you off short.

“the floor? not a chance.”

you press your lips together tightly and gesture to his leg. “please, take the bed. your leg… you’re injured.”

spencer looks down at the floor briefly, a light shade of pink spreading across his face. “no, we can… we can share the bed.”

you feel your cheeks grow hot at his suggestion, but a refusal fails to surface on your lips.

moving your hands to your hips, you nod slowly. “only because you’re insisting,” you murmur.

a brief silence veils the air, and the two of you have utterly no idea what to do next — neither of you wants to be the one to crawl into bed first.

but the clock’s hour hand had just moved past the two, and you know your eyelids aren’t going to stay open for much longer.

with a weary sigh, you gesture towards the lightswitch. “do you mind if we dimmed the lights a little?”

spencer turns, almost hobbling on his leg, and flips the switch for you. the room turns dark almost instantly, but a faint light emanates from a lamp on the nightstand.

“are you, um, going to sleep soon?”

you hate to be the first one to bring it up, but you have to — you can practically feel the tiredness tempting you like a fuzzy blanket.

“uh yeah, we should sleep.”

you watch as spencer grabs a pillow from his side of the bed and positions it near the edge of the mattress. you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he props himself onto the bed and rests his leg on top of the pillow, elevating his casted knee.

oh. as the realization hits you, you reach for your own pillow and gently place it next to his head. “here, use this.”

“that’s your pillow.”

“i know.”

a soft chuckle sounds from his throat as spencer raises his head ever so slightly, allowing you to tuck the pillow beneath him.

“thanks,” he murmurs, and pats at the space next to him, urging you to join him on the bed.

once you’ve slipped your feet into the blanket, spencer stretches his arm to turn off the lamp and moves back to whisper a hushed good night into your ear.

you turn to say it back. “good n-”

his hand gently starts to wedge under your neck, and as he moves, strands of your hair coil around his fingers.

he’s offering his arm as a pillow.

you lie frozen, your breath hitched in your throat, as his arm extends fully beneath you.

“spence,” you exhale, caught off-guard by the sudden move.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about me,” he softly whispers, inclining his head towards your face.

you smile, though you doubt he can see your face in the pitch-black darkness.

“sweet dreams,” you hum, and close your eyes to let sleep overtake you.

—

you wake up not to the sound of your alarm, not to the birds usually perched on the tree outside your window, but to the sound of spencer clearing his throat.

you think it’s a dream at first, but you can feel everything — the vibrations coming from his throat like he’s talking to you, his hands stroking a pattern on your back, his breaths tickling your hair.

you open your eyes to see spencer staring back at you with flustered cheeks, his eyes flickering back and forth between your face and…

you follow his gaze and look down, only to see that your leg’s wrapped casually around his hips, anchoring him to the bed. with a panicked yelp, you immediately retract your leg and leap out of the bed, frantically apologizing to him over and over again.

“i’m so sorry about that, d-did i hurt you?”

your voice sounds scratchy from your parched throat, but how you sound right now is the least of your concerns.

spencer chuckles softly before slowly sitting up. “no, you didn’t do anything.”

you let out a relieved sigh at his response.

spencer grunts as he lifts himself up, tenderly listening to your continued apologies with a warm smile.

“by the way,” he starts, fixing his tie and reaching for his suit jacket, “we're a little late.”

“what?” you gasp, hurriedly tucking your dress shirt into your trousers, “fuck. how late?”

a pause, and then: “five minutes and twenty seconds.”

“oh my god,” you squeal as you fling your and spencer’s bag over your shoulders, “they’re probably all waiting for us.”

quickly turning the doorknob and making way for spencer’s crutches to move past the door, you rush to the elevator and hit the juddering call button.

“next time, you’re-“ you cough out as you try to catch your breath, “-you’re welcome to just push me off the bed. it’s guaranteed to wake me up instantly.”

spencer looks at you questioningly, a small grin spreading across his lips. “next time?”

you clasp a hand over your mouth. “wait no, i meant – hopefully we’ll never have to sleep in a room together ever again, but i’m saying in case-“

spencer tilts his head and lets out an amused laugh. thankfully, the elevator doors open just in time, and you’re spared the trouble of having to explain yourself further.

you bite your lips as the image of his lopsided grin lingers in the back of your mind, and the fresh regret of your words burns your face like a hot fever.

the embarrassment doesn’t end, however, as the doors open once again to reveal your team standing right outside. when the elevator’s chime echoes throughout the lobby, everyone’s heads turn to you and spencer.

you walk out with nervous steps, grimacing when hotch merely nods and announces that the plane is ready for takeoff. spencer makes his way over to derek, who tousles his hair teasingly.

“so, how’d you sleep last night?”

you freeze when rossi’s husky voice drifts into your ears.

you force out a smile. “i definitely could’ve slept better.”

“really?” he hums with a smirk, “i slept like a baby.”

“yeah, you upgraded your room, we get it, you’re rich,” you sigh, eliciting a hearty chuckle from the older agent.

once seated in your usual seat on the jet, you’re accompanied by spencer and morgan, who slump into their seats across from you.

you watch suspiciously as morgan wiggles his eyebrows at you and nudges his elbow into spencer’s sides. “so, late night, huh?”

spencer looks at you briefly, flushed cheeks failing to suppress the smile splaying across his face.

“shut up.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you

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infinitydivine · 4 months ago

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PAC: Your Future Spouse has something to say

Reblog the Pile you picked and what resonated to claim these energies and messages :)

Get this reading personalized for you at just $5.55(limited time)

Masterlist -Paid Readings-Paid Readings Reviews-PAC Readings

Choose your pile intuitively. Take what resonates and leave the other things. If you think this reading is not for you then choose another pile. If still it doesn't resonate then this might not be your reading. There are Three Piles. You can also pick multiple piles too if you are drawn to them.

Hello Pile 1 (Idk why when I was writing for this pile, it felt like someone's future spouse possessed me and they could be a writer because the way they sounded in my head was so poetic)

"Okay- Imagine this: You're walking down a crowded street and suddenly you get this warm-warm feeling engulfing you. Like someone thinking of you, but in a really specific way. That's kind of what this feels like. I keep getting these flashes, these little nudges, like someone trying to get my attention. It's you, I think. Or, at least, the idea of you. (The Abyss from the Weekend&Lana Del Rey was playing in my head so it could mean something to you and I also saw 111)

Honestly, it's a bit awkward, like trying to talk to someone through a thick glass wall. I get these vague impressions: a laugh that sounds like sunshine, a way you tilt your head when you are thinking, a quiet strength that just radiates off you. I don't know your name, or what you look like, but I feel like I know you from somewhere??? Like deep down down I know you. It's like we have already had a million conversations in some other lifetime or timeline perhaps?

Sometimes I get this feeling like I am watching you (not in a creepy way tho haha I promise I am not a stalker). Watching you go through something tough, and I just want to hug you and say -it's going to be okay love. Or other time, I see you doing something completely ordinary like making coffee or reading a book, and I get this rush of...joy? It's weird. I am just looking forward to the day we actually bump into each other, the day the glass wall shatters and we can finally, you know, talk. I hope you're ready for a lot of clumpsy ( I know it's clumsy but I am leaving it like this because the word sounded just like this in my head lol)jokes and maybe a few awkward silences, because I am definitely going to be a nervous wreck. But I also know, deep down, that will be worth it."

With Love and Anticipation

Your Future Spouse

If you liked the reading, book a personal reading with me or you could leave a tip for the reader.

Hello Pile 2 ( I guessed it right, this pile's future spouses have a lot of grounding and serious energies. Your FS's really poured their hearts out here)

Specific song- About You by The 1975

"Hey there. It feels like we are on parallel journeys, like we are both finding and figuring things out, and I keep getting this sense that our paths are about to merge. I am not about big, dramatic declarations, but I feel a real sense of calm when I think about you. Like finding a safe harbour after a long voyage.

I see you working hard, maybe dealing with some challenges and I want you to know you're not alone. I am not promising to solve your all problems but I'll be there to listen, to offer a steady hand and to remind you of your own strength. It's like, I see your potential, the quiet determination you have, and I want to help you nurture that.

I am drawn to your authenticity, and your willingness to be real. No masks, no games, just you. I appreciate that, I really do. I am looking for a partner, someone to build a life with, someone who understands that life isn't always sunshine and rainbows but we can face anything together. I am not looking for perfection but a genuine connection. I really don't care about looks either, I never understood why people fall for others' looks when looks can be so deceiving. I am ready to build something lasting with you, to create a home that is both supportive and loving. I look forward to the moments we will share, the quiet nights, the shared laughter, and the building of a strong foundation together".

With Love,

Your Future Spouse

If you liked the reading, book a personal reading with me or you could leave a tip for the reader.

Hello Pile 3 (Your FSs were a lot more excited than the other piles lol, I even had goosebumps while writing and reading them again haha)

The song for you- Daylight by David Kushner

"Hey there! You've got this incredible spark, this energy that's just....contagious.It's like I can feel it from here, wherever you consider 'here'to be haha. I am getting these flashes of pure joy, of laughter that echoes and a sense of adventure that's just begging to be unleashed. (I somehow also saw an image of a black dog/cat?)

I feel like you are someone who really lives in the moment, who embraces life with open arms, and that's exactly what I'm looking for. I am drawn to your playful spirit, your willingness to try new things, and your ability to find the fun in everything. its like, with you, everyday would be an adventure (while typing this- we found love was playing in my head).

Also, I am not about settling into some predictable routine. I want to explore, to discover, to create memories that will last a lifetime. I am ready to dive into the unknown with you, to dance under the stars, and to chase after our wildest dreams. I feel like we'd be a dynamic duo, a force of nature, unstoppable together.

I am getting these strong feelings of creativity, and a need for freedom. I feel as if we would both give each other the space to grow as individuals, while also growing together. I look forward to the times that we can share our unique perspectives, and learn from each other. I am ready for a passionate, and exciting relationship, that will keep us both feeling alive. I just cant wait to meet you"

With Love and anticipation,

Your Future Spouse.

If you liked the reading, book a personal reading with me or you could leave a tip for the reader.

Thank you and Love, Infinity

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aethon-recs · 5 months ago

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30 Tomarrymort Recs for 2024 — Completed Multi-Chapter Fics (Part 1)

Happy new year, and what a year 2024 was for the Tomarrymort ship! 🤍 We went from close to 13,000 fics in the beginning of 2024 to over 15,000 fics in the ship tag by the end of the year. How incredible is that!?

I've split up my 2024 year-end recs into 3 parts: (1) Completed Multi-Chapter Fics, (2) One-Shots, (3) WIPs. Here is Part 1 of the list: Completed Multi-Chapter Fics.

Please enjoy these 1.5 million words of completed Tomarrymort fic from 2024!

A Dangerous Game by @cybrid (E, 322k, complete)

Tom Riddle opens the Chamber of Secrets in Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts. After a botched attempt to extract the Horcrux in Harry’s scar leaves their souls tied together, Tom is forced to kidnap him when he makes his escape. A story of Horcrux hunting, adventure and unwilling attraction.

Anabiosis by @itsevanffs (E, 39k, complete)

The school is… unprotected. Voldemort gets resurrected early, and learns this very quickly. Harry Potter likes his new teacher: he's a pretty man in his early thirties with a kind smile and dark hair and eyes - and he doesn't seem to hate him, unlike all the other teachers.

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 217k, complete)

Harry does not give up the Horcrux when he dies. Moved by compassion, he embraces it instead. What follows next, he could not predict. He’s not sure he ever really had a choice in the matter. The world Harry wakes up to is not like the one he remembers. And his captor is neither the same as he was, nor as different as he would like.

Change Me by @valkyrie-chemist (E, 17k, complete)

Harry Potter had grown up listening to tales of the cursed Lord Voldemort. Trapped in his mysterious manor, the man—the monster—was said to be crueler and more hungry than Death itself. So why then, Harry thought, was the groundskeeper still alive? What sway did Tom Riddle have over Lord Voldemort to stay his wicked hand when Harry had so brazenly trespassed on his lands? Whatever it was, it was not enough. For try as he might, not even Tom could persuade the monster to let Harry leave. That is, Tom challenged, if Harry even wanted to.

Creatures of the Dark we are by @hikarimeroperiddle (E, 28k, complete)

Banished to his cupboard at age 4, Harry learns to listen only to the Voice in his head. Its teachings warp all Harry could have become until no more than dark magic and devotion remains. Visions of a wraith with red eyes complicate matters, especially when Harry and the Voice follow it to Hogwarts so Master can get his hands on the Philosopher’s Stone. Harry can do magic. He can’t do people.

death cheater (are you?) by regulus_little_mermaid (E, 14k, complete)

Tom tries to understand: just because a stranger saves your life a few times doesn't mean you can fall in love with him.

Dulce Et Decorum Est Mori by beetaker (E, 135k, complete)

“I'm glad it's both of us,” Harry said, green eyes somehow greener, the natural brightness in him turning incandescent. “I'm glad we're going together.” “We'll always go together,” Tom said, knowing it as fact, unable to imagine anything different. Wherever he went, Harry was sure to follow. It'd been that way forever. It would surely always be that way.

Extenuating Circumstances by Origin_Of_Symmetry (M, 87k, complete)

“You’re really quite a delight, Harry. I can’t believe I went weeks thinking you were useless and boring.” Somehow, unwittingly, Harry finds himself engaged to Tom Riddle. He’s not entirely sure how that happened.

friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight (E, 28k, complete)

There’s something very unsettling about Tom Riddle. Cedric can’t put a finger on it. Whether it’s the way he moves, all long limbs and eerie fluidity, the dissecting gaze he follows them with, or the way he speaks, with an accent that doesn’t match his manners. Maybe it’s how he drinks in Harry’s presence like a religious zealot, or how his eyes wander over Harry’s body as if he’s seen the skin and flesh underneath before.

gaming buddies by @reggieblk (M, 19k, complete)

All it takes is a rude comment under a YouTube video for Harry and Tom to meet their best friend and, incidentally, the love of their lives. Through thousands of hours of playing Minecraft together, getting to know each other, and finally meeting in real life, it was inevitable they'd fall in love.

Hearthstone Abbey by @ramabear (E, 116k, complete)

Harry follows Thomas Gaunt into his world much like he stepped onto Diagon Alley that first time, wide-eyed and full of wonder. He has no idea what exactly this world has in store for him, but he knows that with Thomas at his side, he is safe and happy for the first time in his whole life. There is someone who will always be there for him, always look after him, always care for him and everything Thomas does just proves that to be true.

In the Shape of Fear, Erised by @rowena-rain (E, 19k, complete)

Harry sneaks into Lupin’s office late at night, determined to banish his recurring nightmares of a certain devastatingly handsome future Dark Lord once and for all. But things quickly spiral into depravity, and before he knows it, Harry is getting thoroughly railed by a boggart in the form of Diary Tom Riddle... Or is it?

in the silence by @satflesk22 (E, 48k, complete)

There's a new student at Hogwarts. And, for some reason, he's decided he's going to be Tom Riddle's best friend. Tom, immortal aspiring Dark Lord, apparently has no say in the matter.

In Their Absence by @mosiva (E, 35k, complete)

“Weird place to hang out, mate,” Harry said, more to break the oppressive silence. There was nothing but the thick hedges, the faintest whisper of a breeze, the grey sky overhead, and Voldemort. “You believe this to be a dream,” Voldemort rasped. “You always were foolish.”

Kudosed, Bookmarked, Subscribed by @maquira713 (E, 79k, complete)

By day, Harry works as a lowly assistant to his boss: the cruel, controlling Tom Riddle. By night, he lives, breathes, and writes fanfiction. And when he's not writing, he's obsessing over the work of his favorite Ao3 author: Lord_Voldemort_. So, of course, it’s only a matter of time before Harry gets caught reading Voldemort’s latest fanfiction at work… by none other than his boss.

Machine Men by @izharmilgram (E, 5k, complete)

Harry discovers Lord Voldemort is transgender, and he's really fucking hung up about it.

rage, rage (against the dying of the light) by MerleBlanc (M, 17k, complete)

1978. Voldemort is winning, bored, and his immortality secured. When a mysterious man appears out of thin air to oppose his Death Eaters, he is more than intrigued by whom the newspapers now nickname the Good Samaritan. Except someone is also stealing his horcruxes one by one, and he has never felt more threatened in his life. Or: Harry just lost his wife, made a deal with Death, travelled from the future to gain back his mortality, and decided to fuck a timeline.

see you soon by @duplicitywrites (E, 9k, complete)

It’s summer, which explains why Tom has all this free time to visit Harry’s flat and place of work, but it does not explain how Tom knows, with unerring accuracy, where Harry is at any given moment. Harry has checked with his coworkers—Tom only ever shows up at Fortescue’s when Harry is the manager on shift.

Shiver, Lustre, Skin by @monsieurclavier (M, 9k, complete)

Harry goes undercover as a bargirl at one of Tom Riddle’s exclusive clubs. Tom has her figured out in approximately one second. Or: In which Tom is a badass Wizarding mob boss and an incorrigible lesbian flirt, and Harry—sassy newbie Auror and secret virgin—is just Tom’s type.

something precious by @mosiva (E, 16k, complete)

“Fine,” Harry said, giving in to curiosity as he always did. “What is it?” Tom shook the vial, letting the liquid catch the light and send rays scattering over his hand and face. “It’s a love potion,” he said.

Still Into You by @moontearpensfic (E, 29k, complete)

Harry has a stalker. If only he noticed sooner.

Sugar Soaked by @teaandsweaters9 (E, 46k, complete)

Seducing Hepzibah Smith out of her most precious belongings should have been simple. Spend time with her, charm her, drain her for all she’s worth, and move on. Unfortunately for Tom Riddle, Harry Potter, professional savior and amateur waiter, has other plans.

the only heaven by iwasborntired (M, 11k, complete)

“You,” Ginny swallows, and her voice sounds jagged, waves crashing against an uneven shore. “You called out for him, in your sleep.” He does not need her to finish. He knows. It is sick and festered and rotten, and it is true. In the blanket of night, in his dreams, Harry Potter starves. His mouth forms the supplication, a secret scalds the air, and his soul, then and now and always, calls out for Tom Riddle. It is only fair, after so long spent stitched into the fabric of one other.

the righteous dead by @aspengray (T, 40k, complete)

Harry is resurrected, sewn together with thread and magic. He remembers nothing except that he loves his savior, a man named Voldemort.

Thin Skin by @iseliljathedreamer (E, 15k, complete)

The war ended with a conditional surrender where the most powerful wizard alive signed his freedom away for 100 years to a boy of 17 armed with a basilisk tooth and a putrid, poisoned pool, in exchange for secrecy and eternal life. But that was years ago now. Harry thought he'd never get used to having Voldemort living in his house, but he did. Time is a miracle-worker beyond all human comprehension, and yet, there are wounds it remains to heal. Quite literally.

Tom Riddle's DIY Disaster by @sri-verse (E, 13k, complete)

Harry and Tom were the closest two people could be. They always shared everything, no secrets between them. So, when Tom told Harry about his last orgasm, why was Harry acting all weird? It was granted that Tom would think of him.

Trenches by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (T, 82k, complete)

"Maybe you should kill them," Harry says. He's sitting perched on the stairs, hands clasped together, green eyes watching Tom and his irritating year mates. His form is hazy around the edges, an almost translucent quality to his image. "I can't just kill people," Tom says. "Not in public.” Role-Reversal where Harry is the Dark Lord and Tom Riddle is the Boy-Who-Survived.

two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane (NR, 8k, complete)

Potter is finishing up with his sketch of the craniofacial structure. There is still more of his body to go, and more sessions left, and Tom cannot be sure whether he wants the precise drawings to be more or less—true, at all, if he could even describe them as untruthful. They aren’t beautiful as Tom is in the mirror, but they are still, undeniably, him, with the eye of someone learning to cut people apart and look beneath their skin, still bloodless yet, and—well.

What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete)

Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry...

You By The Shore by @blackseatwenty (E, 19k, complete)

Harry's grown on the island his whole life. He fell in love with a stranger standing alone by the shore. Or is it crazy to believe in love at first sight?

#tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #hp fic recs #longfic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #harrymort recs #2024 reads #2024 recs

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sadnymi · 1 year ago

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「 ✦ How Would The Slytherin boys React After you tell them you’re pregnant:✦ 」

[Mattheo Riddle-Theodore Nott-Lorenzo Berkshire-Draco Malfy-Tom Riddle]

•Mattheo Riddle

1.Silence: You blurt out the news, a nervous flutter in your chest. Mattheo stares at you, processing the information. Don't panic! This is his initial shock absorbing mode.

2. More Silence: You try again. Still, silence. Don't take it personally; his mind is racing a million miles a minute.

3. The Disappearance Act: By evening, Mattheo might be MIA. Don't fret! This is probably him needing some space to grapple with the news. (Don't chase him to Knockturn Alley, though.)

4. Awkward Return: When he finally returns, you launch into a "what-are-we-going-to-do" speech. But wait! He cuts you off...

5. "Hey, it's okay” : Mattheo might surprise you with a calm demeanor. This doesn't mean he isn't nervous, but he's trying to reassure you (and maybe himself).

6. "I want it too." : Prepare for a confession! Mattheo, the king of nonchalance, might admit he wants this, with you. This might be followed by an apology for his earlier silence."Sorry, I was just shocked earlier. Shouldn't have reacted that way."

7. Confusion Reigns: "You're not mad?" you finally manage to ask, a sliver of doubt lingering.He might confess he's clueless about the whole "No," he says, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. "It's just... I never thought about this stuff. Family, kids, the whole shebang. But if I'm gonna do it, I want it to be with you." _Cue the tiny butterflies in your stomach._

8. "But with you.":He might clarify that while the whole baby thing is new, having it with you? That's something he can do.

9. Protectiveness Unleashed: Expect a shift in Mattheo. He might become fiercely protective of you and the little one on the way. (Just don't tell him it's "nesting" if he starts building a barricade around your house.),Mattheo will hover over you, insisting you take prenatal vitamins and threatening to glare down any stranger who bumps into you. It's annoyingly sweet.

10.The (Slight) Freak Out (Because It's Mattheo): Don't get too comfortable yet. There will be moments of panic. Mattheo might blurt out something about not knowing the first thing about raising a kid, or how motorbikes suddenly seem like a terrible idea. Just remind him that you're in this together, crazy as it may be.

•Theodore Nott

1. Reality Check?: Theo might blurt out, "Are you sure?" It's not doubt about your love, but the sheer unexpectedness of it all. Breathe, and calmly confirm with that positive blood test result.

2. Freak-Out Time: Picture a cartoon character with smoke billowing from their ears. That might be Theo, internally freaking out. Don't worry, it's normal (though maybe not that dramatic).

3. Parental Apocalypse?: "Your dad will kill me!" Theo might shriek, envisioning a future father-in-law wielding a shotgun.

4. Waterworks Warning: Tears might well up in your eyes, a mix of emotions swirling. He will put everything beside and try to comfort you.

5. Protective Streak: Expect a dramatic shift. Theo, the notorious rule-breaker, might turn into a fierce protector, ready to shield you from any and all perceived threats.

6. Reassurance Renaissance: He'll rush to your side, muttering reassurances like "Hey, I'm here" and "I'll be here every step of the way." "I might be freaking out internally, but I'm not going anywhere."

7. "We" is the New Word: The "me" might temporarily disappear, replaced by a constant "we." He might start talking about "our baby" and "what we need to do.".

8. Fear is a Two-Way Street: Theo might confess he's scared too. Don't be surprised; fatherhood is a big leap for anyone. Reassure him you're in this together.

9. Facing the Future, Together: Theo might not be known for responsibility, but this news could be a turning point. He might surprise you with his determination to navigate this journey with you.

10.A (Slightly Chaotic) New Chapter: Yes, there will be challenges. But with Theo by your side, even the most chaotic moments of pregnancy and parenthood can turn into an unforgettable adventure (well, maybe not all the diaper changes).

•Lorenzo Berkshire

1. Record Scratch Moment: "Excuse me, what?" Lorenzo might look like a record player with a skipped track. Don't worry, the information overload will clear soon.

2. Baby Talk Confusion: He might blurt out, "Pregnant? Like...with a baby, like a real baby ?"

5. The F-Bomb Symphony: Brace yourself for a chorus of "Oh fuck!" Lorenzo might panic a bit, but hey, at least he acknowledges the reality.

6. Apology Avalanche: Prepare for a barrage of "I'm so sorry for putting a baby on you." It's not guilt-tripping, just Lorenzo's awkward way of expressing concern.

7. Decision Time: He might cut through the tension with a simple, "Okay, what do we do?" Don't be fooled by his bluntness; he's ready to face this together. He might surprise you with a genuine, "I want it. Do you?" Expect a hint of nervousness, but mostly a determination to be a part of this.

8. Family Gathering Fiasco: Prepare for a potential meltdown when it comes to telling your families. He might blurt out, "I'm pregnant!" before you can correct him. Just take a deep breath and handle the announcement yourself later.

9. Overprotective Overload: Expect Lorenzo to morph into your personal bubble wrap. Lifting a box? Forget it. Climbing stairs? Hold on, he's got you. You might need to remind him you're not made of glass .

10. Google Goes Dad Mode: One night, you might catch him researching "how to take care of a pregnant woman" , “ How to be a good dad “ on his phone. Aww, just don’t cry you will freak him out again.

•Draco Malfy

1. Denial is a River in Egypt: His first response? "You're lying." Don't panic. This is classic Draco, clinging to disbelief. Prepare to show him the pregnancy test, the blood test… anything to pierce his denial bubble.

2."Look Away, Not At It!": He might stubbornly refuse to even glance at the evidence. Don't take it personally; it's his defense mechanism malfunctioning.

3. Accusatory Tirade: Brace yourself for a verbal explosion. He might accuse you of lying, of trapping him, of using his family name. Remember, fear often masquerades as anger in Draco's world.

4. Protection Spells on His Pants?: He might insist he used every protection under the sun. Don't get into a magical contraception debate. Just try to explain accidents happen.

5. The Ejector Seat Option: Draco might bluntly tell you to leave. It's a knee-jerk reaction, not a reflection of his true feelings (hopefully!).

6. Standing Your Ground: Here comes the hard part. You tell him you're keeping the baby, with or without him. This might be the first crack in his emotional armor.

7. A Continent Away From Chaos: Fearing his reaction and the uncertainty of it all, you flee to another country. Girl, we feel you! But remember, you're not alone in this.

8. A Connection You Can't Deny: Despite the fear, you feel a powerful bond with the tiny life growing inside you. This little one deserves a chance, and you vow to protect them.

9. The Redemption Knocks: Two months later, a frantic pounding on your door jolts you awake. You open it to find a desperate Draco, his face etched with worry.

10. A Malfoy Regret-Fest: He confesses he searched everywhere for you, regret gnawing at him. When he learns you fled, the dam breaks. He apologizes profusely, begging you to tell him you kept the baby.

A Second Chance, Malfoy Style:

Relief washes over you as you nod, tears welling up. He wipes them away, muttering, "It's still ours. I'm so sorry. I'll never hurt you or our baby again." A genuine plea hangs in his voice.

“ Do you still love me?“ A shaky nod escapes your lips. He pleads for forgiveness, for a chance to be part of this family he never knew he craved.

This might be the start of a rocky but redemptive journey for both of you. Draco, beneath his icy exterior, might surprise you with his capacity for love and growth. Just remember, keep a communication charm handy – navigating fatherhood with Draco will likely be an… interesting adventure.

•Tom Riddle

1. The Stoic Facade: Don't be surprised if Tom remains eerily calm. His usual mask of control might slip not an inch, leaving you wondering what's going on behind those eyes.

2. Tears: A flood of emotions might be coursing through you, but Tom? His reaction might be a chilling calmness. This doesn't mean he's unfeeling, just that he processes things differently.

3. Misinterpreting Your Distress: Seeing you cry, Tom might jump to a chilling conclusion. "Is having a baby with me that terrifying?" Here comes the part where you clarify.

4. Guilt by Association: A quick "No, no!" will hopefully ease his worry. But then you blurt out your fear – you're both too young.

5. Age is Irrelevant: Tom operates on a different timeline. Age is just a number, and power? That's the real currency. He might say, "It's not about age, it's about power."

6. Power Trip for Three?: Brace yourself for a Tom Riddle monologue about the immense power your child could possess. He might see it as an extension of his own ambitions, a prodigy groomed for greatness.Don't be afraid to voice your anxieties. When you say, "Tom, I don't want my baby to be part of your plans," he might actually listen.

6. A Promise, Riddle-Style: “I promise you, I will keep them safe. I will keep you safe." But remember, Tom's definition of "safe" might not align with yours. Stay frosty.

7. Your Fears Take Center Stage: Tears welling up again? This might be the moment it dawns on Tom that you're not thrilled about the power angle. He might try to reassure you, but...

8. Promises with a Price: Tom doesn't give anything without expecting something in return. Be prepared for him to outline his expectations for your role in his grand plan.

9. A Tug-of-War for the Future: This is where things get interesting. Do you submit to his vision, or do you fight for a different future for your child? The choice is yours.

10. A Dance with Darkness: Having a child with Tom Riddle is a gamble. He might be a captivating presence, but remember, his path is paved with darkness. Are you willing to walk it with him?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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kittenan2 · 24 days ago

Note

I also wanna request one for ptd in la concert day 1 yoongi when he’s on live and we tease him and then he ends up fucking us while being on live

Stay on Live, Min Yoongi?

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Chaotic Tease!Reader (established relationship) Rating: 18+ (Explicit Smut) Themes: Bratty teasing, remote-controlled vibrator, voyeuristic tension, Dom!Yoongi, hotel sofa sex, possessive love, bickering, soft aftercare, intense fluff, chaotic girlfriend energy Warnings: Explicit sexual content (vibrator play, oral, penetrative sex, light choking, overstimulation, edging), strong language, power dynamics, public teasing (non-explicit on live), NSFW Word Count: ~3k

The Los Angeles hotel suite is a vision of luxury—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, plush cream carpets, and a sprawling sectional sofa that screams “expensive.” Yoongi’s sprawled in an armchair by the window, tablet propped up for an Weverse Live, his voice a gravelly comfort to the millions of ARMY watching. He’s still in his post-concert glow, hair damp from a shower, black hoodie swallowing his frame, though the sleeves are pushed up to reveal his forearms. The faint scent of his cologne mixes with the room service tray you’d ordered through the before arriving—kimchi jjigae and fried chicken, now sitting cold on the glass coffee table.

You’d slipped into the suite twenty minutes ago, thanks to the spare keycard Namjoon snuck you at the when you called him. Yoongi’s eyes had widened when you walked in, a grin tugging at his lips before he schooled his expression for the live, waving you off with a subtle “Five more minutes,” his hand splayed as he mouthed it behind his tablet. The surprise had landed—you saw the spark in his eyes, the way his posture shifted—but now he’s deep in fan-talk, oblivious to the storm you’re about to unleash. You roll your eyes, setting the room service tray down with a dramatic clink and flopping onto the plush sofa, out of the camera’s frame. The city lights twinkle outside, but you’re more focused on the man ignoring food and you for his fans after you flew across the world to surprise him.

Five minutes, my ass.

Three weeks ago, you and Yoongi were sprawled across his bed in Seoul, post-midnight takeout containers scattered on the floor, his arm draped lazily over your waist. He’d been teasing you about how needy you get when he’s on tour, his voice all gravel and mischief. “You’re like a cat, scratching at the door,” he’d said, smirking as you swatted his chest.

“Shut up,” you’d laughed, straddling his hips, your fingers tugging at his shirt. “Maybe I wouldn’t be so needy if you didn’t disappear for weeks.”

He’d raised a brow, that dangerous glint in his eye, and reached into his nightstand, pulling out a small, black velvet box. “Got something for you, then,” he said, voice low, almost challenging. You opened it to find the vibrator—sleek, discreet, and paired with a tiny remote. Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your neck as he leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “For when I’m not around. But…” He’d dangled the remote in front of you, smirking. “I’m keeping this. Wanna see how good you can be for me.”

The memory of his hands guiding yours, showing you how to use it that night, his voice whispering filthy promises as he watched you unravel—it’s enough to make your thighs clench now, sitting on the hotel sofa. That dynamic, the push and pull of his control and your defiance, is exactly what you’re about to weaponize.

Fifteen minutes pass. Then thirty. You’re sprawled across the sofa now, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, the room service tray mocking you from the coffee table. The food’s cold, and your patience is colder. Yoongi’s still talking, now answering fan questions about the LA concert, his voice warm as he recounts the crowd’s energy. “Last night was wild,” he says, chuckling. “You guys were screaming so loud I forgot my own lyrics.” The chat floods with purple heart emojis and “YOONGI MARRY ME!!” comments, but you’re over it. He’s in post-show Yoongi Zone—untouchable, hyper-focused, and completely oblivious to the fact that you’re starving and bored out of your mind after flying across the world to surprise him.

You glance at your tote bag, slung carelessly on the floor, and a wicked idea solidifies. Tucked inside, hidden under your wallet and lip gloss, is the vibrator from that night in Seoul. The thought of using it here—in this hotel suite, while he’s live—sends a thrill down your spine. You slip it out, checking to make sure Yoongi’s still distracted, and slide it into your panties, adjusting it until it’s nestled just right, the cool silicone making you shiver. Your skirt rides up slightly as you shift, and you shoot him a glance. He’s still rambling about stage lighting, but his eyes flick to you briefly, a mix of surprise and warning at your unannounced presence.

You pull out your phone, opening the app connected to the toy, and send him a quick text: Guess what I just put in? 😈 His phone lights up on the table, and he pauses mid-sentence, eyes darting to it. The chat notices immediately: “Yoongi, what’s that face?!” “Who’s texting you? Spill!” He clears his throat, pretending to focus, but you see the way his fingers twitch toward his phone, the faintest flush creeping up his neck. “Just, uh, checking something,” he mumbles, but the chat’s already spiraling: “Yoongi’s blushing! SUS!”

Time to play.

You start slow, tapping the app to send a soft, pulsing vibration through the toy. Your breath catches as it hums against you, subtle but enough to make your thighs clench. You lean back, letting your head tip against the sofa, one strap of your silk top sliding down your shoulder “accidentally.” You stretch languidly, making sure the motion catches Yoongi’s peripheral vision. His voice falters for a split second, and you bite your lip to suppress a giggle.

The chat goes wild: “Yoongi’s stuttering! What’s happening?!” “Did he just blush again? OMG!” “Is someone in the room? Spill the tea, Suga!” He coughs, tugging at his hoodie sleeves. “Nah, just… jet lag or something,” he lies, but his eyes flick to you again, and you see the heat starting to simmer behind them, mixed with a flash of annoyance at your unannounced arrival.

You up the ante, increasing the vibration to a steady rhythm. Your body reacts instantly, a soft gasp escaping before you can stop it. You cover it with a fake yawn, stretching again, this time letting your skirt ride up higher, exposing the curve of your thigh. Yoongi’s jaw tightens, and he shifts in his chair, one hand gripping the edge of the table. He tries to pivot to a fan question about his favorite PTD moment, but his voice is rougher now. “Uh… probably ‘Butter,’ yeah,” he stutters, and the chat explodes: “HE’S SO FLUSTERED OMG.” “Yoongi, what’s going on? Who’s there?!”

You’re in full brat mode now, loving the way he’s unraveling. You lean forward, letting your top gape just enough to give him a view if he dares look. Your fingers skim your thigh, inching higher, and you turn the vibe to a pulsing pattern that has you biting your lip to keep quiet. Yoongi’s eyes lock onto you for a split second, dark and dangerous, before he forces himself to face the camera again.

You decide to push him over the edge, cranking the vibe to its highest setting for a brief, torturous second. Your head tilts back, lips parting in a silent moan, and you grip the sofa to keep from squirming too obviously. Yoongi’s hand shoots to his phone, fumbling to grab the remote he’d snuck from the table earlier—you hadn’t even noticed. His eyes meet yours, a mix of warning, need, and something else—maybe irritation that you showed up without warning. You smirk, knowing you’ve got him.

“Okay, guys,” he says abruptly, his voice dropping to that low, growly tone that makes your core clench. “I think that’s it for today. Thanks for hanging out, yeah? I’ll see you next time.” He leans forward, clicking the live off with a speed you’ve never seen from him. The phone screen goes black, and the suite falls silent except for the faint hum of the city outside and your own ragged breathing.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The air is thick, charged with the tension you’ve been building for the last hour. Then Yoongi spins around in his chair, his eyes blazing as they lock onto you. “You think that was funny?” he asks, voice low, almost a growl, as he holds up the remote, his thumb hovering over the buttons. “Showing up without a word and pulling this shit?”

You smirk, leaning back on your elbows, the vibrator still humming softly inside you. “What? You said five minutes. I waited an hour, Yoongi. Food’s cold, and I got bored after flying all the way here to surprise you.”

He stands, stalking over to you, and your heart skips as he towers over the sofa. “Bored enough to wear that here?” he says, clicking the remote to crank the vibration to a level that makes you gasp, your back arching off the plush cushions. “Without even telling me you were coming?”

You shrug, feigning innocence, but your body’s already betraying you, thighs pressing together as the toy pulses. “Figured you needed a reminder I exist.”

His lips twitch into a dangerous smirk, and he kneels on the edge of the sofa, one hand bracing beside your head. “Oh, I know you exist,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “And now you’re gonna beg for my attention, since you went through all this trouble to get it.”

Yoongi’s voice is a low rasp, dripping with control, but the way his eyes rake over you—flushed, sprawled across the hotel sofa, strap fallen and skirt hiked up—tells you he’s just as affected as you are. He holds the remote in one hand, his thumb teasing the buttons, and you can’t help the shiver that runs through you at the power he’s wielding.

“Yoongi,” you whine, trying to sound defiant but failing miserably as the vibrator pulses inside you, sending waves of heat through your core. “You’re the one who ignored me.”

“Ignored you?” He leans closer, his breath grazing your ear. “Baby, I was trying not to fuck you on camera for the whole world to see.” His free hand slides up your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh just below where your skirt’s bunched up. “But you had to make it hard, didn’t you? Flying across the world just to mess with me.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a moan as he clicks the remote again, the vibrations shifting to a slow, torturous rhythm that has you squirming. “Maybe I wanted you to lose control,” you manage, voice breathy, your hands gripping the soft fabric beneath you.

His eyes darken, and he sets the remote down on the sofa, only to replace it with his fingers, trailing up your inner thigh until they brush the edge of your panties. “Lose control?” he repeats, voice dripping with mockery. “You’re the one falling apart, princess.” His fingers slip under the fabric, finding the toy nestled against your clit, and he presses it deeper, making you gasp. “Look at you. Soaked already.”

You try to argue, but all that comes out is a whimper as he adjusts the toy, his touch teasing but not enough. “Yoongi, please—”

“Please what?” He pulls back, smirking as he grabs the remote again and cranks it to the highest setting. Your body jolts, a choked moan escaping as you clutch at his hoodie, fingers twisting in the fabric. “Use your words, baby. You wanted my attention—now beg for it.”

“Fuck, Yoongi, please touch me,” you gasp, hips bucking as the vibrations overwhelm you, teetering on the edge but not quite there. “I can’t—I need you.”

He chuckles, low and dark, and leans down to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, messy and desperate. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back as he deepens the kiss, swallowing your moans. “That’s better,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling the toy out slowly, leaving you aching and empty. “But you don’t get to come that easy. Not after that little show.”

You’re panting, half-delirious, but you still manage a smirk. “You loved it.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he tosses the toy aside and hooks his fingers in your panties, dragging them down your legs with a roughness that makes you shiver. “Spread your legs,” he orders, voice firm, and you obey without hesitation, your body buzzing with anticipation.

He kneels between your thighs, pushing your skirt up to your waist, and the sight of him there—hair falling into his eyes, lips parted as he takes you in—makes your heart stutter. “So fucking pretty,” he mutters, almost to himself, before leaning in, his tongue flicking against your clit in a way that has you crying out.

“Yoongi!” Your hands fly to his hair, tugging as he licks you with slow, deliberate strokes, savoring every reaction. He alternates between soft flicks and deep, languid licks, driving you wild until you’re grinding against his mouth, chasing release. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he sucks lightly, then harder, until you’re trembling on the edge.

“Not yet,” he growls, pulling back just as you’re about to tip over. You whine in protest, but he silences you with a kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “You come when I say.”

He stands, tugging his hoodie off in one fluid motion, revealing the lean lines of his torso, still flushed from the concert’s adrenaline. Your mouth waters as he unbuttons his jeans, shoving them down just enough to free himself. He’s hard, tip glistening, and the sight makes your core clench with need. He grabs your hips, pulling you to the edge of the sofa, and lines himself up, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Yoongi, please,” you beg, too far gone to care about pride. “Need you inside me.”

He smirks, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he leans down, kissing you deeply. “Love when you beg like that,” he murmurs, then thrusts into you in one smooth motion, filling you completely. You both groan, the stretch and heat overwhelming, and he pauses for a moment, letting you adjust.

Then he moves, slow at first, each thrust deep and deliberate, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs as he picks up the pace, the sofa creaking beneath you. The distant hum of LA traffic filters through the windows, but it’s drowned out by the rhythm of his movements, every thrust a beat, every moan a melody.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he responds by grabbing your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. His other hand slides up to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there—a silent claim that makes your pulse race. “You wanted my attention?” he growls, thrusting harder, his voice rough with need. “You’ve got it. Every fucking inch of it.”

The pressure builds, your body tightening around him as he drives you closer to the edge. “Yoongi, I’m—” you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he fucks you through the crest of your orgasm. You come with a cry, trembling beneath him, and he follows moments later, his thrusts growing erratic as he spills inside you, groaning your name.

You’re both panting, tangled on the sofa, half-dressed and sweaty. Yoongi’s forehead rests against yours, his breath warm on your lips as he chuckles softly. “You’re gonna get me banned from live streams,” he mutters, kissing your nose. “Showing up out of nowhere like that? You’re trouble.”

“Worth it,” you mumble, still dazed, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. He laughs again, pulling out carefully and grabbing his hoodie from the floor. He drapes it over you, covering your bare legs, then disappears to the suite’s bathroom, returning with a warm cloth.

He cleans you up with gentle hands, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the way he brushes your hair back, checking you over like you’re precious. “You okay?” he asks, voice low, and you nod, pulling him down for a soft, lingering kiss.

“C’mere,” he says, tugging you into his lap as he sits at the glass dining table, the room service tray now in front of you. He pops open the containers, grimacing at the cold food. “Fuck, this is basically inedible now,” he says, poking at the congealed kimchi jjigae with a chopstick. “You came all this way to surprise me, and I let the food get cold. Worst boyfriend ever, huh?”

You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You got distracted. I was just… keeping myself entertained.” You bat your lashes, and he snorts, shaking his head.

“Entertained, huh? More like trying to kill me.” He grabs a piece of fried chicken, holding it to your lips. “Eat, brat. You’re probably starving after that flight and… everything else.”

You bite into it dramatically, chewing with exaggerated enthusiasm, and he laughs, the sound warm and unguarded. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, but his eyes are soft, crinkling at the corners as he feeds you another piece, his fingers brushing your lips. You catch his thumb, sucking it lightly, and his breath hitches, eyes darkening for a moment before he shakes his head. “Nope. No round two. You’re gonna behave for at least ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” you tease, snuggling into his chest, the oversized hoodie swallowing you. “That’s a new record for me.”

He smirks, wrapping an arm around you as he leans back in his chair. “Don’t push it.” He pops a piece of chicken into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at his phone. “You know… I was thinking. I’ve got this melody stuck in my head.” He taps his temple, a playful glint in his eye. “Maybe your little surprise inspired it.”

“Oh, so I’m your inspiration now?” you say, grinning as you steal a sip of his cold coffee, grimacing when you realize it’s gone warm. “This is all your fault, you know. Cold food, warm coffee. You owe me a proper dinner.”

He chuckles, kissing your temple. “Fine. Late-night songwriting session, then we’ll order something hot. Deal?” His fingers brush your cheek, and you lean into his touch, warmth spreading through you at the casual intimacy.

“Deal,” you say, but you can’t resist one last jab. “But only if you promise not to get too distracted by your music again. Or… maybe I’ll bring the toy back for next live.”

His eyes narrow, but he’s smiling, that gummy grin that makes your heart skip. “Next time you pull that stunt, I’m locking the suite door. Or…” He pauses, leaning close, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Maybe I’ll make you sit under the table the whole time. mic on, of course.”

You laugh, swatting his chest, but the idea sends a spark through you. “Tempting offer, Min.”

He pulls you closer, kissing you slow and deep, like he’s savoring every second. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmurs, but the way he holds you—like you’re his whole world—says he wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: Thank you for diving into this steamy, chaotic ride with Yoongi and his mischievous girlfriend reader! I hope the surprise, tension, and fluffy aftercare left you swooning and craving more.

Taglist: @the-djarin-clan . @jeonjamiekim . @moonjinniecafe . @minpdrecs . @bontensbabygirl . @this-most-assuredly-counts . @taolucha . @mytaegiheart . @dear-mono . @lilyficrec . @janeluvwonuuuu . @k-fan-fics . @iztrouble . @pikajooni . @namluvili . @alonahh . @paradise172 . @stay-tiny-things . @micdropitlikeitshot . @softhaes . @littlebluhellfire . @niqueesthings . @nocturnalsingularity . @syudoeslove . @namjoonbaby17-blog . @mar-lo-pap . @naesarang07 . @diame93 . @themwordsblog . @crizoosblog

#yoongi #agust d #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi bts #bts smut #suga x reader #suga smut #bts suga #kittenanwrites #suga

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r0-boat · 2 months ago

Text

Welcome home Masters!

7 Kings X Gn!Maid Reader

Hello this is my contribution too @mammonsmaster's WHB Collab!

Synopsis: Maybe working at a maid cafe in hell it was a mistake....

Cw: No sex but still smut because very suggestive, mentions of drugs, gambling, stripping, workplace harassment, workplace sexual harassment, MC is gender-neutral with feminization they are in a maid dress people, Reader is so fucking done, long as hell, mostly crack, silly fun

Enjoy Masters~!

Just a week ago, was the final nail in the coffin to get a job in hell.

The very idea of you working a job was heavily frowned upon by the Seven Kings who doted on you and 65 of their loyal servants who shared their very opinions. Even the money loving Bimet whose words you can still hear now that you type your resume "Don't soil your hands with work of the common when there are so many more ways that you especially could earn money." With the look of jealousy that would make even Leviathan impressed.

As much as you did here where they were coming from. About sudden angel attacks and hell still being dangerous. Becoming $1 million in debt because a devil at an Abyssos casino challenged to a game of poker was something. Instead of losing gold coins, the currency of Hell, and something you never had, the logical course of action was to go for the money in your earthly wallet. It was fucking traumatizing! You swore to yourself that would never happen again. As much as you are grateful for all seven of those kings to work for you to pay off your debt, the eye candy is so graciously enjoyed. You could still feel poor peepaw Solomon rolling in his grave every time you think about the $1 million you've never had that you lost.

The best thing about job hunting in hell Is that as soon as your resume hits the internet businesses from giant conglomerates in Tartaros to small Mom & Pop shops in Gehenna from cozy diners to strip clubs and bars flood your inboxes with messages offering you any amount of money with the greatest hours anyone could offer just for you to work under their roof. Because these devils knew that you were pretty much a celebrity, and wherever you went, potential paying customers would follow. So there you were, sitting on your bed, your golden laptop (gifted by You-Know-Who). You scroll through the plentiful options this job listing website has offered you.

You had no interest in corporations in Hell if they were anything like the ones on Earth, nor did you care enough to find out. Whether it's office work or on-site work, you are not working there, which was about 19% of applications you had to delete. You'd rather work somewhere smaller and less corporate.

You were not working in a place that worked with produced or was known for sex, adult toys, drugs, and alcohol. If you were already saying that just by walking down the street You did not even want to know what it was like working at a club or whatever Hell's equivalent of a Spencer's was!! And that was about 80% of the applications!!! Even some of the big companies fall into this category!

At the end of your mass deleting session, you were left with about 10 options that were currently hiring and had messaged you, at least one from each of the seven kingdoms.

Scrolling at the bottom and refreshing a page, another one pops up. That one caught your eye. It didn't have a lot of hours, but honestly, those were the ones you were looking for since you were trying to hide the fact that you even had a job. But it was also in Abyssos with morning hours, 3 days a week on weekdays. A humble cafe located at the end of a street corner, away from the large casinos and theme parks. As much as you were a little bitter at Abyssos for being the architect of your financial doom, this was the best choice. Out of all of the Seven Kingdoms, demons from Abyssos care about fun and in the moment more than anything else. The chances of you running into Beelzebub were far lower than in other countries; even if he was in this Kingdom, he wouldn't be there for long. Even if he did see you He would probably forget that you worked there after he left.

As much as you loved Gehenna, the chances of you running into Satan were very high; he knew everyone and was really popular with the devils who lived there. Satan, along with Mammon and Leviathan, were against you getting a job the most. So, who knows how mad he would be if he saw you on your shift? And his regular shenanigans are not really ideal if you just want peaceful shifts. Plus you can't imagine what kind of Karens the Kingdom of Wrath hosts.

Tartaros was a firm no. If you wanted to avoid large companies and corporate greed, honestly, you would stay 100% clear of Tartaros when it comes to looking for a job.

Hades sounds fine until you realize you will be working with envious devils. You can't imagine how bad the workplace drama could be. Not only that, the chances of Leviathan finding out are 99.9% which will lead you to a force transfer to his department, and by department, I mean wherever the fuck he feels like.

To work in Paradise Lost, you would need the permission of its king, and Lucifer would only agree for you to work there if it was underneath him directly. As tempting as it was, working in the medical department is terrifying, and you're not sure about working with a boss who you also bang.

Even though the chances of meeting Belphegor during your shift are lower than those of Beelzebub If you worked in Niffleheim, you would never have a break, a vacation, or even the day off; you can practically already hear the micromanaging. Belphegor was so eager at the idea of you working. He immediately offered, to his credit, a high-paying job to work in his castle, the benefits being "I don't fucking know..." And hours being "Forever I guess..." The job description very ominously being "Everything I need ya for Sugar. "

Abbaddon...

You let out a heavy sigh, lift your head out of your hands, and stare back at your screen. Your mouse had been hovering over the Cafe job listing for too long. Finally, you decided to bite the bullet and respond. The owner responded immediately with a casual and friendly tone. You're not sure if the lack of professionalism was refreshing or concerning. Is it a hell thing or an Abyssos thing that job interview didn't exist? But it was too late to contemplate now because the person who you assume was the boss pretty much hired you immediately over text. And informed you but in a couple days Wednesday You would come in at 12:00 And they'll teach you all that you need to know!

The cafe was "themed" after the ones on Earth They even had special events that lasted for a week every now and then. The owners were a middle-aged looking married couple. The husband who had slicked back hair and in undercut shook her hand very enthusiastically. Expressing his excitement to see a human in person. He had this innocent look in his eyes that made your heart melt He was probably hundreds of years older than you but he greeted you with such gusto. As he was yapping and rambling about his life in Hades and his dream to start a business blah blah blah- something from the back caught your extension. What you assume was the wife came practically stumbling out of the back room, You have the look of a cold-blooded killer on her face. She snarled when her blood red eyes landed on yours She didn't even say a word when she walked toward you before extending her hand, pinching the bridge of her nose her whole face scrunching up as if she was in pain. The husband beamed at his wife as if she was the most beautiful thing on earth. "Oh! That's Camilla! My beautiful wife! Sorry for her scary face She's nursing a hangover... Her old mates from Gehenna wanted to drink with her. She may look scary but I promise she's a sweetheart!"

Pink dusted her cheeks as she glared at her husband before muzzling his cheek, She put a hand on your head gently patting it before going to the back room.

You met the other part-time workers: a Young devil studying in a university in Tartaros, who seemed to be attached to you by the hip, her bright blue eyes looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world, Just buy her expensive jewelry you could tell where she was from. Her style was very up-to-date with Tartaros fashion with her golden name tag reading Xiulan. She mimicked you and every move you made with wide eyes and a big smile She was shy and didn't talk much but for some reason when it came to you suddenly she was just as talkative as your boss.

And an older man from Niffleheim with a lopsided name tag reading Kenji, who was the cafe's chef, who to this day you are unsure if he liked you or not. Every time he would see you running up to him with a big smile he would audibly grumble "Oh God, not you again..." But at the same time he would baked cook and feed you special dishes he made to ask how it tasted. But honestly did more micromanaging than Camilla and Lucian combined.

And all was well...

Until... The Day of reckoning...

A month into your job, your first event, Lucian your boss and Camilla's husband summoned you and the other part-timer as well a silence as ever Camila. "Okay this is very special! We all heard about The rulers of hell working as butlers at a shop on Earth". You tried to stop yourself from cringing when he mentioned.

"I think we should do the same! Instead of butlers, we can do maids!" Lucian said. Camilla smiled at his enthusiasm, with Camila taking measurements and Lucian with the shopping, You and Xuilan forcing Kenji to wear his goddamn maid outfit.

Besides Xuilan and Kenji getting into another fight during your lunch break when Kenji attempted to hand feed you only for Xuilan to Huff and bite it out of his hand, you yelled at both of them, and now they're sulking for the rest of their shift. You smiled as the bell above the door rang and two new customers entered. You skipped over to the new customer with your sweetest voice. You said, "Welcome home master!"

"oh~Is this some kind of roleplay?..." A familiar voice purred. Your eyes shot open... Oh fuck no.

You look up to see in all your horror. Not just one but two Leviathan and Beelzebub.

Leviathan's expression was unreadable. He looked down at you with wide, unblinking eyes, and his lips parted slightly.

Beelzebub's shocked expression faded instantly, replaced by a smug smile. "Aren't you going to see your masters?" He purred making you clench your fists. Hissing through your teeth, you respond, trying so hard for your customer service switch to flip. "Yes! Of course right this way." As you led them over to their table, you could feel holes being burned into your backside. As soon as you sit them down, that fake smile fades as you lean against the table to the both of them. Whisper screaming "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Leviathan was oddly silent as Beelzebub spoke up for him, wrapping an arm around Levi. "Taking grumpy shut-in for a walk! Thought something That didn't have a lot of people was good for him. Could be asking you the same thing." You try to ignore Beelzebub leaning heavily to the right trying to get a better look at you.

You wanted them out now! And why the fuck is Levi so quiet... Usually, he's spitting poison or telling you how worthless you are, but he's just sitting there silently. His eyes never leave you, not even for a second, as you walk to grab a pen and notepad. Honestly, it's creepy as fuck the feeling that somebody is watching your every move, and you prefer when he's threatening to kill you.

In classic Beelzebub fashion, He orders one of everything on the menu. One. Of. Everything.

"And for you, master?" You turn to Leviathan, who just covers his face with said menu. You sigh, taking that as a no. As you head to the back, the burning sensation in your back does not leave. Kenji is there waiting for you on the other side of the wall. "Is that his majesty?" He whispers, and you finish this sentence with your palm and your hands as you give him the piece of paper with their order. "Leviathan and Beelzebub... Yea..."

Kenji looks at the paper in his eyes go wide. "Am I reading this right?"

"One of everything?? Yes."

Kenji rubs his eyes and he looks again.

"It's not changing Ken..."

"shit, I don't know whether to be excited or scared?" Despite his beefy appearance, the many scars on his body, and the fact that he looks like a yakuza member, Kenji takes pride in his cooking. Honestly, the only thing helping your anxiety-riddled mess is the fact that a muscular man like Kenji is in a frilly maid dress complete with a fake magic tail and ears that move.

Xiulan had already gone home since she usually opens. You saw Kenji going to the kitchen with Camilla. Kenji and Camilla looked so excited to get started. It seemed that they genuinely loved cooking. And when you tried to talk to Lucian, he just gave you a dismissive, "I don't care much for Hell politics... Whether they are kings, royals, or nobles, we treat all our customers like our Masters!" Lucian is way too committed to the bit.

The first five dishes come to their table, and Beelzebub's mouth waters at the smell. He takes a bite before you can see an idea popping into his head, and his lips curve into that signature shit-eating grin.

Oh no it begins...

"Miss maid, can you feed it to me~" Beel purred with the spoon still in his mouth. Which finally seemed to have awakened His majesty asshole of Envy. "You've already ordered everything on the menu fatass! Must you bother them even more?" Levi snarled.

You turn back to see Lucian, his eyes wide with sparkles, watching this whole thing. 'I thought you said you weren't interested in hell politics... ' You said internally before returning to Beelzebub. Taking a spoon out of his mouth, you scoop up some rice from the curry he ordered with the sweetest smile. "Open wide, Master!" Beelzebub is making sure to stick his tongue out,, too. Before he could take it off the spoon, Leviathan practically shoves him, putting it in his mouth instead of taking the food off that utensil. "Seriously, how annoying can you be? How is anyone supposed to eat if your hand feeding it?!" He glared at you, finally gently slapping your shoulder with the menu he had been holding onto this entire time. "Just get me one of your sodas!"

"Levi, if you wanted some food, you could have just asked..." Beelzebub said with a noticeable amount of annoyance. Whatever it was, it wasn't your problem as you tried so desperately to hide your exhausted side before you retreated back to the other side of the counter.

Around the afternoon, the cafe wasn't supposed to be as busy since The Abyssos nightlife was starting to kick up, and most devils were beginning to go bar hopping, clubbing, or gambling. Other than the two royalty on the side of the room, you were trying desperately to ignore. You served another table of regulars.

You smiled and greeted them with your usual soft tone, not forgetting to add 'Master!' at the end of it.

Leviathan's eyebrow twitched as he watched the whole interaction. Beelzebub had already cleaned his first round of plates while waiting for the other round of food. He was on his phone, texting. Leviathan stared at the hardly touched cup of cream soda. He slid his arm against the cup, slowly knocking it over the edge, some of that liquid splashing on a thigh. Hearing the noise, his head whipped around, immediately abandoning his current task and running to the King's (TM) table.

"Oh my goodness are you okay master?!" You ask You're so glad you keep a clean rag in your pocket. Levi's breath hatched when he felt your hands on his thigh pressing the rag against his pants. Staring down at you his pupils blown wide, How long have you been wearing this? How many more people had their eyes on you all day? 10? 20??

If it were up to him,, you would be serving only him. Dressed like this 24/7, with that sweet smile only for him, as you obediently cater to his every wish.

You press your rag harder on his thighs trying to soak up as much soda as you can. When your eyes dirt back up at him he grabs his teeth hoping you don't see the tent beginning to form in his pants. Once you are satisfied you move the rag to the table and then floor wiping up the rest of the spill. "Would you like me to get you more soda master to replace the one you spelled?"

Your voice snapped him out of his fantasy " what do you think? and be quicker this time You're as slow as you look " Leviathan huffed. You tried so hard not to grab the customer by the collar. As you left to go get a clean rag.

Coming back to the table your voice was sickly sweet as you hiss through forced smile "Oh my master is so clumsy~! Here!"

With enough force, you can slam down a sippy cup to make this table shake with a loud bang. Levi's eyes went wide, the loud noise making him jump back in his chair. His cheeks were dusted pink. He begrudgingly accepted the sippy cup without another word as Beelzebub busted out laughing.

When you finally finished serving your regulars You heard the bell on the door ring again this time It sounded like a whole group of people came in. When you rush to the door you wanted to jump out of your skin.

What the fuck.... Mammon and Satan?! Mammon hummed his eyes trailing up and down your body before giving you a whistle.

"Not sure which I'm more angry about, The fact that you went against what I said or the fact that you didn't tell me about it!" Satan raised his voice hissing through his gridded teeth but Mammon puts a hand in his shoulder. "If you don't like it then you can just go home, Beelzebub invited us to dinner, we should at least enjoy the food while we're here as well as the other services."

"fuck no I'm staying!" Satan growled smacking Mammon's hand off his shoulder.

Beelzebub You bitch! You internally scream as you whip your head around to see the man of your reckoning wave from the table they were seated.

"T-this way master..." You stuttered as you tried hard to regain that cheerful, ready-to-please attitude. "Master? I can get used to that!" Satan smiles wrapping an arm around your waist to feel how the dress compliments your body. Before walking ahead to his table, Mammon follows in tow but not before fully groping your ass on the way making you squeak at that moment, wondering if there is a hotline in hell for workplace harassment.

When they sit down you hear Satan, "Leviathan why do you have a sippy cup?"

"shut the fuck up short shit..." Leviathan mudders putting the cup up to his lips.

You wish your boss and coworkers could do more for you, but the fact is that they are kings, and there isn't a whole lot they could do about it... You didn't even bother bringing out menus as they were probably just going to eat whatever Beelzebub ordered prior.

You go to the back room to see if the second serving of food is ready, You look back to see all four staring at you; despite being clothed, you've never felt so naked as they undress you with their eyes. You knew exactly where Mammon was shamelessly staring. And they weren't exactly quiet either you could hear their shameless conversation.

"the maid outfit is nice... But... It seems a bit long and flowy. Something tighter around the waist... Hmm... Perhaps something to show off a little more assets?"

"lace?"

"ah yes! I didn't know you had such great tastes Beelzebub! "

"I pay attention where it counts!"

"It doesn't matter what they where everything is going to go on the floor anyway... "

"tch... No sense of style... No wonder you dress like that."

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH YOU'RE DRINKING OUT OF A SIPPY CUP!!!"

You knew these were devils but come on... You're on the clock... Surely they'll cut you some slack on the clock right?? When you walked past the door, Lucian ran up to you, holding your hands in his. "Which one is your boyfriend?" He said with a big smile on his face. "I- What?" You are so cut off guard by his question. "So if you are Solomon's descendant are they all your boyfriends?!" Lucian continues. You didn't like the excitement in his eyes. " Hold on honey Wait here! "

He smiles as he runs to the kitchen with a skip in his step. He comes out with the fake tail and cat ears That was on Kenji before. Looks like he was more than welcome to give those up. Lucian hum does he replace your maid headband with the cat eared one and hooked up the magical tail right to the dress. "There you go dear aren't you the cutest kitten!! Now since today is going to get slower for the rest of the day now go out there and make your boyfriend happy! "

He smiled pushing you back out the door as you were wondering what the hell just happened. Did your boss just sell you out? You can't tell if he was supportive of your love life or a bad boss for subjecting you to more horrors. He sounds less of a boss and more of a nosy grandma. You made the mistake of looking back to see half of lucian's face peeking out from the other side. You say as you walk back to the table. Mammon's eyebrows perked up when he saw the new additions to your outfit. "hm... Better... But my point still stands." He smirks his arms cross.

Beelzebub whistled "Can you give us a little twirl?"

Ignoring their comments you smile "I'm sorry It will be a little longer till your food. If there's anything else you would like please let me know."

Satan gave you a toothy grin patting his lap "Aren't you tired from standing up all day? Why don't you set in my lap?"

"S-sorry You're not allowed to touch the Maids." You stutter again You could feel your face getting flushed, You've gotten attention from customers before but with the kings it was another level, if this was on earth this would be sexual harassment.

"Sorry doll face but I think we already broke that rule. "Satan purrs.

Beelzebub seems to finally notice what you said about the food leaning on his elbow "Don't worry about the food, we're waiting for more. "

"M-more?" Your eyes widened

"Oh yes, more." Mammon grins. "You're not just going to get a job as a cute little maid and expect us not to want to see it."

"You're welcome pretty." Beel chimed in making a kiss motion with his lips.

By the time your next break came around you sat in the break room your head in your hands, You swore this whole day was going to make you lose 5 years of your life. And it was about to get worse.

You could handle Lucifer and and Belphegor.

But... The devil you feared the most...

'The creature.'

There was no way 500 years he would miss the opportunity to see you in a maid outfit.

As much as he was sexy as fuck. That beast is terrifying.

But what you didn't think is how fast they would come in. Your 15 minute break ended. And you wanted to scream when you saw a Asmodeus walking in with a smile on his face coming from a portal carrying Belphegor piggyback. Lucifer following behind His eyebrows slightly raised as he looked around with interest.

By work policy you had to greet them.

Come on... Think about the paycheck, think about the paycheck, think about the paycheck, think about the paycheck, repeating your head like a mantra that would rival the Seraphim.

With a dead look in your eyes Your cat ears and tail which made Belphegore perk up from his nap and a curtsy that made Asmodeus bite his lip. "Welcome May I take you to your table?

'Oh God it's moving...!'

Asmodeus smirked smelling smelling fear.

"Aww No 'welcome home Master'~!"

You grit your teeth biting back the urge to strangle.

"He is correct you know. Aren't you supposed to be in character?" Lucifer unexpectedly chimes in.

'Lucifer you traitor!!' You sob internally

Belphegor resting his head on Asmodeus's shoulder, sneers "Aw ain't ya a shy kitty."

Your face red utterly shaking as you try so hard to summon every last ounce of fucks to give.

"welcome home, Masters~!" You gave them a cute smile.

The devils were too stunt to speak. Lucifer took a white handkerchief before pressing it to his nos. You saw a little bits of red staining the handkerchief when he folded it before threw it away into a nearby trash can when they walked over to their table.

You know in a fucked up way despite the torture and the more torture to come it was kind of nice seeing all the kings hang out like old friends. despite the abysmal difference in what's legal or not and the lack of overall morality they're no different from any other close group of friends

"Yup I'm definitely beating it tonight!" Asmodeus says with confidence Immediately tanking the mood.

"Honestly same." Belphegor mutters as he got off Asmodeus's back to sit in a chair.

There they were all Seven Kings... All eyes on you. A pack of hungry wolves watching a defenseless deer.

Levi grit his teeth at the empty sippy cup in his hand when you walk over to those same regulars who had been sitting there for a while now. Satan was grinding his teeth staring daggers at those poor devils

"um... Descendant of Solomon..." One of them asked his face red as he plays with his fingers a shy smile on his face His puppy love for you made your heart melt as his friend tried to hype him up. Leviathan rose up from his seat like a corpse from the grave, Satan's nails digging into the table looking like he was about to lunge like a feral animal, only to both pause.

"May I get a picture!" Your cute smile makes Satan grip the table his hand shaking trying so hard not to flip it. "Yes you may but you know the rules!" You practically skip over to a shelf grabbing the deck of cards.

"win against me in a game of poker! And you may get your picture!"

Poker might seem like a bad idea... Given that it was the main reason why you were here in the first place.

But you have changed since then... Countless nights mastering the game, all the harsh and painful lessons from your former poker Master Jjyu. Your hand still hurt, remembering that he would slap your hands with a sandal if you were to get sloppy.

Solomon would be proud of how quickly you destroyed those poor devils letting them leave dejected.

As you clean the cards back up You have made the mistake to turn your head around back to the only devils in the cafe now...

You did not like the look in their eyes....

......

You have trained for this moment... As they cleared off the table with empty dishes and freshly cooked food to place on another table nearby. All seven devils plus you. Playing a round of poker...

Each of the seven devils gets one chance, whoever wins. It is he who gets that photo.

#totally not inspired by Maidsama(me when I lie)#smut #whb #what in hell is bad #wihib #what in “hell” is bad?#whb leviathan #whb lucifer #whb mammon #whb asmodeus #whb beelzebub #whb belphegor #whb satan #whatinhellisbadcollab

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ceoofglytchell · 9 months ago

Text

Butterfly

| Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2 |

Summary: That fateful night on Driftmark Aegon has made a promise to you, one that he has even once never forgotten, while you were gone. However now six years later you return to him and- gods be good- he is going to make that promise a reality and he most certainly won't let you leave him another time.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Strong!Niece!Reader

Word count: 4214 words

Warnings: incest, Reader is described of having Strong like features, Reader is Rhaenyra's and Harwin's second child, fluff, angst, longing, thoughts of major dubcon (it’s only a thought and does not really happen), kinda miscommunication, hurt/comfort, allusions to smut, aegon being miserable, no mention of Y/N

Notes: I was not feeling good last week, but I am back now with this piece here, but I’m not sure if it’s good. But, as always, feedback and criticism is always appreciated and please remember that english is not my native language. Enjoy 💛

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"I promise that one day I will marry you."

Never once in your life have you forgotten the promise that your uncle Aegon had given you six years ago on the shores of Driftmark. Yes, he was drunk, and yes, he knew that your families would never let a union between the two of you come to be, but a boy could dream. At least that was how he had justified the vow later on when you had to separate the following morning.

You have always wished that your beloved uncle would fulfill his very promise one day, but unfortunately the chance got slimmer and slimmer the more years passed and the more protective your mother has gotten over you, because as Rhaenyra's first and only daughter nothing was easy.

You were born with brown curls and hazel eyes like your brothers, making the sin your mother had committed all the more obvious to anyone else, a walking reminder of her carelessness. However you were born much smaller in comparison to your brothers and even as you grew you remained petite and delicately looking, which caused Rhaenyra to fuss over you like a mother hen constantly, as if she feared you to be a porcelain doll that could shatter into a million pieces with just a touch. She certainly treated you this way.

Aegon however has always seen the watchful eyes and silent warning glances of his half-sister to be more of a challenge than an actual prohibition.

The prince had always been enamored with you, his little niece, but he has always bottled up all his hidden feelings for you within himself so it was only natural that one time where he had swallowed down cup after cup of dornish wine and you sat by him and held his hand after he had been scolded by his grandsire, the words spilled out of his mouth like a river.

He had barely been able to remember it the next morning, but as he saw the flush on your cheeks when he stood before you to say his goodbyes, he knew that you knew. It was either a curse or a blessing, but even as he had watched you leave with your mother, brothers, and a few of the servants, he had known that he would see you again one day and if he did, he would take you as his wife.

You were not sure what you had imagined when you and your family returned to King’s Landing after so many years to assure yourselves that Lucery's claim to the island of Driftmark was defined and would not be contested, but no matter how easy this task seemed to be on the first look, you quickly learned that this was not the case. Vaemond Velaryon and your great-aunt Rhaenys had also come.

However, their presence brought you less out of the concept than to see Aemond beating Ser Criston during sparring on the courtyard as if the man was nothing but a normal knight and not a loyal and trusted member of the King’s Guard. His cold look, when he had seen you and your brothers, made a shiver run down your back and a spark of fear set its roots within yourself, even if you had nothing to do with the tragic loss of his eye.

On that dark night you were with Aegon when it had happened. The older prince had drunken too many cups of wine and stumbled down the stairs that led down to the beach and hit his head. You had sat with him afterwards and watched over him, while he had clung to you as if you were the very last thing that kept him rooted to this world and that kept him from loosing himself to the darkness within his heart.

And then he had given you that promise. That one terrible promise that has been on your mind every single day, which had taken a special place in the depths of your heart. He had promised to marry you and you knew that he would do it, if you would get permission, which you doubted, however, because your mother wanted nothing to do with her half-siblings whatsoever.

You were reminded of said promise when you faced him again in the throne room after six long years; He and his family dressed in Hightower green and gold and you with yours in Targaryen red and black. The difference could not be greater and the tension that lay in the hall could be felt by everyone.

You tried to stick to your mother's words, you really did, but over and over again your warm gaze found his and every time you caught him staring right back at you, an unknown glimmer in his amethyst colored eyes, which you neither could nor wanted to explain.

However, things escalated quickly and your mother quickly pulled you out of the throne room by the arm, leaving the headless body of Vaemond Velaryon behind on the cold stone floor, for which your stepfather was responsible, the word 'bastards' echoing in your ears. It was not easy to be confronted with the truth after all these years, which your mother tried to hide so convulsively, although it was obviously in everyone's eyes and the entire realm knew the truth of your parentage.

Your shocked eyes found those from Aegon before you vanished behind the doors and you immediately knew that this was not the last time you would see him that evening- and you were right.

Your maids, who were also some of your closest friends at the same time, were currently dressing you for dinner when it suddenly knocked on the heavy wooden doors to your chambers, which still looked exactly the same before you had been forced to leave back then. Without having allowed him to come inside, Aegon stepped into the privacy of your old chambers, which were illuminated with flickering candles, whereupon the servants stopped tugging uncomfortably on your hair and stepped away from you, bowing their heads as was custom.

"You may leave us," you told the other women, whereupon they all looked at you with a questioning frown.

"But princess-" "Please, I can do it."

Neither you nor the maids knew really whether you meant your hair or the prince who stared at you without having lost a word so far, which was extremely untypical for your uncle. However, the cup of wine in his right hand was familiar and you immediately became painfully aware of how much you had missed him.

The moment the doors fell shut again and you both were alone in the room and actually stood in front of each other for the first time again in six years, a bright grin broke out on his face and he slowly took a few steps to get closer to you. "Welcome home, little butterfly."

You didn't know exactly what it was; the nickname, his voice, which had matured, or the fact that you finally looked at him again after such a long time, but you couldn't help but close the distance between you two and jump right into his arms.

Aegon was surprised for a brief moment, but he immediately returned your gesture and wrapped his arms around you as well and pressed your slender body tightly against his, burying his nose into your long brown curls, which were half put together into a braid, which was not finished, because you had sent your handmaidens out of the room as soon as you had laid your eyes on him.

He could hear how a quiet, content sigh escaped your lips, whereupon he felt himself relax in your embrace and he felt his grip around his golden cup of wine loosen slightly as if you were the sole cure for the addiction he had developed. After all these years and although you both have grown and changed, you still fit perfectly against him like the last piece of a puzzle that had finally found its rightful place.

"You cut your hair," you noticed with an audible smile in your gentle voice and you immediately snuggled closer to him as if the sole thought of being parted from him for a second time was unthinkable for you.

"And you have grown- if only a little."

You hit him playfully against his shoulder and leaned back a little so that you could look him into his lilac eyes, which you noticed no longer held the same glint as they had back then. In addition, deep dark circles under his eyes adorned his handsome face and he had become even paler, which was why you feared that you needed to worry about his health. He also looked very much tired. However, these little details did not change the fact that the man in front of you was as beautiful as he had been back then if not more.

"Still feisty, I see, butterfly."

"You did not forget it," you noticed with an almost melancholic smile on your rosy lips. Ever since you were children and a small white butterfly had landed on your head in the Godswood, which would happen two or three times more over time, he called you by the name of the animal, since you were probably just as fragile and delicate, you mused. At the beginning you did not really enjoy it, but over time you wanted to hear him say it over and over again- now too.

"Of course not. I would never forget you, my darling."

"Stop it." You looked down onto the ground so that he would not see the obvious blush on your cheeks, but he did regardless. As for you, he paid attention to everything, every little detail.

"I did not forget my promise to you either." The prince said and stroked with one hand over the length of your arm, which was covered by a silken red sleeve. Actually, you did not want to wear a red dress to dinner, as it would only illustrate the fronts between the two sides of your families, but your mother insisted on it. You personally have always preferred lighter colors.

"Really? You appeared to be very much... drunk when you gave it to me, Aegon." You carefully replied while you hesitantly grabbed his hand, the contact igniting a feeling of warmth in you, which you had been longing for as well.

"I was drunk, that much is true. However, I always am and I remember very well that I said that I would marry you."

"This was so long ago-" you said with a quick shake of the head, because you knew that time did not change anything about what he felt for you and what you felt for him. A marriage between the two of you would never be agreed to, even if you could not imagine marrying someone other than him. The hatred between the two sides of your family was just too big and your love would not mend the crack again.

"No, I am serious. Be my wife, please. There is no day that I did not think of you and wanted you to be by my side." He reached for your hands and held them firmly in his own as if that alone could convince you to marry him without further ado and preferably that evening right after having had dinner. He would not allow you to get betrothed, because then he would lose the opportunity to have the only person who has ever taken care of him and who has actually listened to what he had to say. If you were not there, he was miserable- the last few years have been proof of it.

On the other hand, you were completely perplexed and overwhelmed with the situation. You wanted him. He was the only one who had never treated you like a fragile doll or a mindless duckling, but just like a girl like any other and you liked that. You did not want to be considered weak by everyone- of all the dragons you rode Silverwing, by the gods, you were not weak. It was bad enough that you were a dragon rider and your mother did not allow you to ride as much as you would have liked.

Unfortunately, the truth was that Rhaenyra and Alicent would never agree to a union between him and you. They would rather die or burn in the seven hells and you wanted to save yourself the pain that would follow if you asked and the two older women would vehemently forbid it even if nothing spoke against it and it would actually serve to strengthen House Targaryen for future generations. Unfortunately, it was more likely that at some point he would marry one of the daughters of Lord Baratheon or his own sister Helaena and that you would have to marry Lord Cregan Stark eventually.

"You don't know me anymore. If you excuse me, my prince, I have to continue preparing myself for dinner now.”

With a jerk you pulled your hands out of his and sat down at your dressing table, trying to ignore him and push him away from you, because you would not be able to allow your feelings for him to bloom now and in the end you would have to spend your life with another. You would not be able to bear it. The prince looked at you with an expression of utter disbelief on his features, until then a flicker of anger crossed his gaze and he stormed out of your chambers without hesitation, the door falling shut so loudly that it made you flinch.

You just wanted to protect him as well as yourself.

Later at dinner you watched Aegon drowning himself in alcohol and staring at his plate without touching the food at all. Aemond, who sat on the other side of the table, stared at your siblings and you at all times, not letting you out of his sight, until it suddenly escalated and a single toast made everyone become aware of how fragile the bond that held your family together actually was.

Shortly afterwards, your mother informed you that you would return to dragonstone the very next morning and you felt right in your decision to have pushed away the man for whom you had deeper feelings for. It was better for both of you. At least that was what you kept telling yourself.

You told that to yourself when you came back to your rooms and found them empty and dark, you told yourself when you sat alone in front of the fireplace and loosened your braids, when you undressed, put on a light nightgown, and you kept repeating it to yourself when you climbed in bed at last and slowly began to fall into a peaceful sleep. You would not be able to bear the pain that would follow if you allowed yourself to actually be with him.

Aegon still felt the taste of dornish wine on his tongue and its effects clouding his senses when he stood in the middle of the night in the darkness of your bedchambers and stared down at your sleeping form in your bed, the moonlight that fell through the windows illuminating your soft features like you were the very image of the Maiden. He was slightly shaky on his feet and he was well aware that he should not be here, but he just could not control himself. Your rejection before dinner and the way you refused to speak a single word to him while you had sat beside each other had robbed him of his last bit of sanity and he just had to know what you felt.

He had a simple plan; slipping inside your rooms unnoticed, tainting your honor and showing his mother the proof of it in the morning, because then she would have to agree to a union just like his half-sister, since you would ruined for any other man. His plan had been so simple, he would just have to tear the blanket right of you, push your nightgown up to your hips and take his pleasure, but when he approached the edge of your bed and saw how peaceful you looked like sleeping, he could not bring himself to do it.

The prince felt a lump forming in his throat, his heart becoming heavy and he could not help but kneel on the floor next to the bed, while he buried his face next to yours in the pillow in the hope that you would not notice the tears of shame burning in his eyes. You should just sleep on and never find out that he was even here. He was a monster for even thinking of ruining you.

He sobbed into your plush pillows, his hands fisting the silken bed sheets tightly when he suddenly felt something stirring beside him on the mattress, but he did not raise his head just yet. He did not want to look you in the eye after what he had originally come for.

"Uncle? What happened?"

Your gentle voice was like a balm for his soul, but he still continued to quietly sob into your pillows. You did not even ask why he was here, but what had happened. Even now you took care of him, although you had wanted to distance yourself from him a few hours ago for a reason that he simply could and would not understand.

"What have I done? Why are you pushing me away from you? What has changed?”

You quickly rubbed the remnants of sleep out of your eyes and you began to caress his back with your small hands, which made a shiver run down his spine and the tears on his wet cheeks slowly started to dry because no new ones fell, at least not right now. Like always, your touch calmed him.

"Why are you here?" You asked him instead of giving him an answer to his previous questions, because you could not tell him the truth. To see how the man you loved cried on the edge of your bed because of something that you had done when you had actually just wished to protect him from that very pain was making your heart shatter into a thousand pieces. You did not want to feel this pain nor did you want him to experience it. What have you done?

"Don't go," he murmured and finally raised his head slightly again to look at you with his reddened, swollen eyes, even if the room was dark and both of you could barely make each other out in the dark.

"Don't leave me a second time, please. Not again... don’t do this to me."

You sighed and sat up in bed, because this was exactly what you had not wanted to happen. His sensitivity was no secret to you and you knew how much you meant to him and how much he meant to you. Your mother had decided that you would return to dragonstone and you could not argue against her decision after what had happened today at dinner. Your house was more fragile than ever and if the others were to find out what you felt for each other, it would be the stone that would set a giant chaos into motion. It would be the end of Haus Targaryen as you knew it.

"Go away, Aegon," you murmured and sat down in such a way that your knees were pressed against your chest and your arms were wrapped around your legs as if you wanted to give yourself a hug to comfort yourself.

“No, please ... darling, don’t," whimpered the older prince and climbed next to you on the soft mattress, desperately searching for your gaze and your closeness. He wanted to pull you into him, love you and never let you go again even for a small second, because you were the only thing in this world that gave him something akin to a glimmer of hope, a light in the deepest darkness of his broken soul.

"Butterfly…"

"Don't call me that!" You suddenly spat at him loudly, which immediately made him wince and made hot tears burn in his eyes once more, threatening to spill over his pale cheeks.

You have never been angry with him before. Never.

"I love you! Don't you see that? I love you so much, but I cannot live with the pain of loving a man that I cannot call my own.”

That was it. The words and the truth were out and he had heard them. His suffering broke your heart, but he deserved to hear these three words from you at least once. You loved him, you truly did, but a miracle would need to happen so that you would be able to live out your love. It was not his fault, nor was it yours, as it was the hatred that has been burning between your mothers for years- a hatred that would probably never vanish.

Aegon was speechless. For a moment he just shook his head in disbelief, which made his white curls fall over his forehead, but it did not prevent him from looking into your beautiful face and seeing in the desperate look in your dark eyes that you were serious. "But I already am yours, am I not?"

"Aegon..." Your shoulders sagged even further down and you pushed your legs even further against your upper body, the sight of it making him miserable, because he did not want to imagine what would have happened had he actually went through with his plan and he would have taken you without your consent and made you his without warning. You would probably have shouted and fought back and he could never have forgiven himself for it and you would never have forgiven him either. No, he was glad that he had not done it.

He carefully approached your trembling shape on the bed and he tenderly wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against him as firmly as he could. Now you started to sob into his shoulder bitterly and he started to slowly rock you back and forth, while he buried his nose into your brown hair like he had done earlier, because your scent always seemed to calm him down, but your hair was also a sign for everyone else that you should not exist and that you, being a bastard, would be monstrous by nature, but he could not care about that in the slightest. You were beautiful on the inside and outside and one day he would prove it to you- perhaps even tonight.

"Marry me?" Back then it was a promise, now it was a serious question and he meant it with every fiber of his body. You were meant to be his wife, even if your love would be a scandal in the eyes of the gods, but he has never been a religious man anyways.

"I can't, uncle, I can't."

Aegon started to place soft and slow kisses on the top of your head. He began his exploration on your hair, then wandered down to your forehead, brushing his lips over your eyebrows, over your cheeks, which were wet from the tears that you shed for him until he reached your own lips, which looked so soft and inviting that he could hardly hold back.

"Marry me." He whispered against your lips and he looked for your gaze to see what was going through your head. Your eyes had always been the mirror to your soul.

His voice, his pleading tone, his warm breath that stroked your face, and the sudden closeness to him was just too much for you.

You do not dare to say it, but a simple, barely noticeable nod on your part was enough and the prince kissed you as if his life depends on it, his hands wandering over every centimeter of your body while he gently pushed you to lay on your back and he hovered over you, not separating his mouth from you for even a split second.

The rest of the night you both drowned in a sea of desire and pleasure, years of wanting and yearning coming to its climax. At some point, his hands had sneaked under the fabric of your nightgown, undressed you, while you had returned the favor at the same time, whereupon he had not lost any time to show you what it would mean to be his wife and you enjoyed every single second of it.

Neither Aegon nor you really listened to the argument that followed the next morning after your maid had told Rhaenyra who she had found laying next to you in your bed and what had to have happened at night based on the red stain on your sheets. Insults got thrown around, voices became louder, but you merely snuggled closer to your lover, who protectively wrapped an arm around your waist and leaned his head to yours while a feeling of happiness flooded him.

You were his now and neither his mother nor yours could ever take you away from him ever again. It was too late for that now.

Love was often said to be the death of duty and Aegon Targaryen would not give a single shit about duty for the rest of his life if it meant he got to forever hold you in his arms like this and love you like you deserved.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x female reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #tom glynn carney

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fishnapple · 10 months ago

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THE MAP TO YOUR SOUL, YOUR DEEPEST SELF INSIDE

A simple map to help you find who you really are inside. The reading will have 4 parts: the focus, the obstacle, the gift, the guide.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

CUBE 1

The focus: Balancing opposites

It's very straightforward and direct. Your deepest self yearns to express itself openly, without masks or veils. You will find authenticity through the words you say and the beauty you cultivate. Your identity is not meant to stay in one place, stagnating but to constantly evolve, transform and refine. This can be expressed through your thoughts, your physical appearance, as within so without. Kind words and self-love go a long way. You're here to learn the way of being independent, of self-authority, standing up for yourself without being selfish.

Life's various responsibilities, the burden of being and existing, the confusions of bonds. Those are the forces that pull you in many directions, away from a simple truth: yourself, the one you've built, the one you are, the one you want to be. The moment you can be at peace with yourself will be the moment you've arrived at home, inside you.

The obstacle: You tend to lose yourself in the connections with other people. The sense of self is dissolved by the desire to connect with the other person. You might find yourself morphed into various identities with each connection. You're one person in one relationship, but you're a different person in another relationship. Relationships shape your identities. There would be a point when you're confused about who you really are, without other people. This is a challenge for you, to find your sense of self outside the connections with people. To have a stable core no matter what relationship you're in.

The gift: Your obstacle is also one of your gifts. You have the talent to connect and understand people. Navigating relationship dynamics come naturally for you. Negotiating, harmonising, understanding. So use this gift to understand yourself too. To see yourself, standing alone, independently and connect with that person. You can be with other people without sacrificing your autonomy and independence.

The guide: Find out what can spark your joy and what makes you want to act, what are you wishing for. Write them down and see the pattern, the interconnection between them. The fastest and safest path to your soul is to constantly seek expansion of your mind. If you're feeling lost, trust in your intuition and the signs given to you at the present moment. You heard someone mentioned a book, a movie, a place? You suddenly get a desire to learn something? You might want to note them down and try them for yourself. Hidden treasures of knowledge are always just around the corner. And through these seemingly random encounters, you've already been treading on the path to your soul.

CUBE 2

The focus: Freedom of creativity & uniqueness

You have a powerful presence that can touch people in a subconscious way. There's a light, a force that is constantly swirling, rolling, unfolding. The question is, how can that light exist among the sea of people without blinding others or without dimming itself? A star is bright and blinding when someone looks at it alone and closely, a star is also bright but its light is gentle and it dances on the cosmic tapestry when it exists together with other million stars on the sky. Together, they create a picture of the universe in harmony.

The path to your soul is not a lonely path that you go alone, it's a merry one with people from all different corners of the world going together, some will go away after a while, some will stay with you till the end of the journey. You will find yourself in the crowd, in the people around you, in the distant dream for an ideal world. How do you connect with people without fusing yourself with them? How do you stand apart but still be a part of something? How do you give to the world and grow in the process?

The obstacle: There's a hidden fear inside you. It's about the loss of the self, the disappearing into the mass. Order, stability and the concrete are desired. You have a lot of hidden force within you. If repressed, it can result in general resentment and anger directed at the world at large with no particular target.

Struggling to find motivation can also be a big obstacle. You need to find the roots of that struggle. Is it because it's hard to be motivated when you can't find the meaning for it? It's hard to act when you can't see the direction ahead clearly? Everything needs a meaning and a purpose. Without them, mobilising your incredible pool of energy will be difficult.

The gift: You have the gift of creativity, creating things for the world and creating your own self. You're like a sun that gives life and shines brightly. Expressing your individuality is an impulse that cannot be overridden. So wherever you go, people notice you, they will applaud you light. use this gift to bring light into other's life, help them find the courage to shine brightly like yourself.

The guide: Delve into the realm of your fears and the unknown. The more clearly you see them, the calmer it will feel. Embrace the mystical parts of life. There are certain things that can't be completely understood by just sitting down and thinking about them in practical terms. Sometimes, letting go and just observing is more effective.

There is a connection between the path you choose to go and the influences of the collective. No matter how much you deny those influences, they are still there, lying dormant in your deeper self. It's the force that keeps you connected to everyone, the sense of belonging. If you have the desire to stand apart, to not be drowned in the sea of the collective, understand that you have enough power and strength to swim gracefully alongside others.

CUBE 3

The focus: The lightness and feeling of safety

Building a home for yourself, for your soul, is what you're called to do. I see the image of someone dragging their feet through a storm, they are exhausted, all they're searching for is a shelter, a place for warmth and rest, a place to stop their weary feet. The burdens of life weigh heavily on your shoulders. There might be a time when you want to escape, to let go, that's when you need to grasp at something to anchor yourself back to the reality of life. Life can be heavy and demanding, but you can navigate it in a simple and calm manner. You may have dreams you want to fulfil, aspirations to achieve, big things to expect but at the end of the day, a safe place, a calm mind and a rested body maybe are all you really need. There's a need to strip back to simplicity and find enjoyment in your own world.

The obstacle: You might project a certain assertiveness and a competitive image to the world. But it's a cover to hide your deeper feeling. The more vulnerable you feel, the harder you tend to fight. The more confused you're about your own self, the more likely you're to chase worldly achievements without a real sense of satisfaction. This discrepancy between your inner self and your outer self will hinder your sense of peace. There's a need to find a way to communicate yourself clearer, with more coherence to the story.

The gift: You have the gift of the gab, expressing ideas and convincing other people. Your mind works in a lightning fast manner, gears constantly turning, information flows indefinitely, ideas churned out like a blinking light. You understand things instinctively, sometimes making logical leaps to arrive at the answer, making mental shortcuts. This gift can help you sail through life more smoothly and help you get out of sticky situations, which usually are the results of your expression of assertiveness or anger.

The guide: Taking small steps towards your soul in a slow and steady manner. No need to rush and worry all the time. Everything is built from the culmination of small efforts.

You will find the guiding arrows through listening to your body, to feel the concrete body of yours, the pains that arise in different place, the warmth feeling in the stomach, the hands getting cold, the electricity running through your spine, all those sensations. Don't ignore them. They help you to feel more alive, and they call you to take more care of your body. Without a healthy body, how can you live and go after your goals?

Humility is another guiding arrow. No matter how much knowledge and wisdom you have, there's always something to learn from others, assume the role of a student and try to listen. Challenges might only appear when you refuse to open your mind and learn.

CUBE 4

The focus: the potentials of transformation

I see the image of someone standing from afar, looking tentatively at the vista before them. They want to go towards it, to see for themselves is there a deeper wonder to this life that they haven't known of. The call is ever louder and more tempting each day.

There's still a distance between them and the vista, but they are looking in the right direction. Now, they just need to figure out how to close the distance. They need the courage to take the first step. They can see the rewards, they can also see the hardship. But turning away is not an option anymore. There's so much more to see, so much potential to grow.

The obstacle: I think deep down, you've already figured out the path you need to go, you just need a little nudge because of the uneasiness in knowing what needs to be done to go towards that path. It will require changes, it will require you to discard things you might have held dear in the past but are no longer serving your growth. And it all starts from the mind. You might not like to think too much about the future, the bigger plan for your life, prefer to stay in the details of your surroundings. Maybe you feel that it's never enough, you don't have enough experiences or skill, you don't have enough resources, you don't have enough visions. Which is not true. You are ready to take the plunge, much like the Fool in the Tarot.

The gift: You already have an instinctive understanding of the world around you. Learning comes naturally for you. Your deposit at the bank of knowledge is getting larger everyday and will spill over if you don't use them. The door that can lead you to the path forward is your mind. Use your mental energy to figure out the steps instead of over analysing and excessive worrying.

Putting your voice out into the world, make a statement, make a commitment to your goal, and you will be surprised how far it can take you.

The guide: If you feel overwhelmed by the amount of work that needs to be done in order to have the life you want deep down. Start small and build steadily. The word "transformation" may sound dramatic and scary, but micro-transformations happen at every moment. Grab hold of the visions floating in your heart and mind and hold them steady, study them, don't mystify them, bring them out into the mundane by backtracking the steps leading to them. You see the farthest step, then backtrack until you arrive at where you are now. Start with doable things, and gradually, you will find that a lot more are doable for you.

#pick a card #pac #channeled message #tarotblr #witchblr #crystal reading #lithomancy #tarot reading #divination #pick a pile #astrology #tarot community #spirituality #astrology readings #astro community

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

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Patience and Strategy

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng IL x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Teamwork, Aventurine Boss Fight, SAHSRAU, Action, Character Development, Humor, Tension.

Warnings: Minor violence (combat).

A/N: I'm not proud of this one and I hate it... 🧍‍♀️ (Plus idk how the in-game battles work or how to describe it...)

Requested by: @neuvillette-x-water

The battle was set.

Aventurine, Dan Heng, Sunday, and Ratio stood in formation, each of them ready to face the final challenge. Their target? An imposing figure—Aventurine's counterpart or his final form, an enigmatic and unpredictable powerhouse who had taken on a form much more powerful than any of them had expected.

The screen flickered, the usual ominous energy swirling in the air as the enemy loomed before them.

"Alright, team," Aventurine said, flashing a grin that was only half a facade of confidence. "It's game time. Let’s see how luck and strategy fare today."

You couldn’t help but groan from behind the screen, frustration bubbling up inside you. "Why'd you roll a 1?!" You shouted, the words sharp and full of disbelief.

Aventurine blinked, his grin faltering for a brief moment. His gaze flickered upward, as though trying to spot you somewhere in the unknown expanse of the fight. But of course, he couldn’t see you. He didn’t know where the voice was coming from, but he could hear it. Loud and clear. He straightened himself up quickly.

"Nothing like a little motivation," he muttered under his breath, though his eyes narrowed at the boss. "Alright, time to show you what a ‘1’ really means."

Dan Heng, ever the professional, ignored the distraction. His eyes studied the battlefield, calculating each possible outcome. The battle was no longer just about defeating an enemy. It was about survival, precision, and strategy.

You couldn’t hold back your frustration. "Dan Heng, stop being so serious! Just land a hit already!" Your voice carried a hint of exasperation.

Dan Heng’s lip curled slightly, though the rest of his face remained as serene as ever. "I am calculating the best approach."

"Don’t overthink it!" You snapped, pacing behind the screen. "Just—Ugh, you’re making me nervous!"

Despite your irritation, Dan Heng didn’t rush. He moved fluidly into position, his body tense and poised. "Patience is key."

Sunday, ever the introspective one, spread his wings slightly as if to channel the celestial energy within him. "I have seen many battles in my time... but this one is different." His eyes glinted as he muttered to himself, the halo behind his head giving off a faint, ethereal glow. "The conflict between the dream and the waking world... which shall prevail?"

Your eyes narrowed in frustration. "Just get on with it, Sunday! What do you mean, 'which shall prevail?' You’ve been in a million battles, it’s just a boss fight!"

Sunday let out a soft chuckle, his calm demeanor barely broken. "Perhaps. But you see, sometimes, the world’s true enemy is not the one we face, but the one we carry within."

He raised his hand, a flash of light swirling around his fingertips. As the battle raged on, Sunday’s voice echoed in the midst of the chaos, soft but resolute. "I will not let this darkness cloud my vision." His magic surged, and an ethereal barrier formed to shield the team.

Ratio, standing to the side with a confident, almost smug look on his face, adjusted the straps on his armor, eyes glinting with intellectual curiosity. He smirked at the enemy. "I assume the strategy here involves a bit more than brute force?" His eyes scanned the boss with disdain, but that only made him more eager to dissect the fight. "Let’s see what this thing can withstand."

You gritted your teeth, feeling the tension rise. "Ratio, can you stop showing off for two seconds? Focus on the fight!"

"Ah, but it’s all about understanding the pattern, yes?" Ratio replied, as if the battle was a mere intellectual puzzle. "By the time this beast even attempts an attack, I’ll have already deduced its weaknesses."

And with that, he flicked his wrist, sending a surge of energy toward the boss.

Aventurine, however, had heard enough. "Enough talk! It's time to win this!" He shouted, his voice rising with an intensity that sent a thrill through you.

You quickly gritted your teeth, watching intently. "Aventurine, beat his ass! Wait... hold on, don’t get too cocky!" You warned, anxiety rising in your chest as the gamble felt all too risky.

Aventurine ignored the warning, the thrill of the gamble coursing through him. "This is what I do best!" He launched himself at the boss, his movements fluid, almost elegant, as he played the ultimate hand. But as he struck, the enemy retaliated, the shockwave of power slamming him back.

Your stomach dropped as you watched him stumble. "Aventurine!! What was that?!" You yelled, disbelief and concern flooding your voice.

Aventurine grinned, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. "A setback! You’ll see. I’ll turn this around." He winked, determination flickering in his eyes, and you could feel the resolve in his voice despite the blow.

Despite the tension, you found something strangely comforting about hearing his voice—a reassurance that they weren’t about to back down. But with each blow and each retreat, the team began to notice that the enemy was growing stronger, adapting to their moves.

Dan Heng, ever the pragmatist, quickly adjusted his approach, leaping into the fray with careful precision. He struck from above, his sword flashing as he aimed for the weak points the team had uncovered.

Finally. "Finally!" You exclaimed, a rush of relief flooding over you. "Took you long enough to get in a good hit!"

Dan Heng’s lips twitched into a barely-there smile, but his movements were sharp and decisive. "As I said, patience."

Sunday’s wings fluttered in time with his next spell. He called upon celestial energies to lock the enemy in place, creating a soft glow around his body. His voice, though gentle, carried across the battlefield. "In the end, it’s not about winning or losing… but the balance we must strike."

You rolled your eyes, frustration boiling over again. "Balance? What are you, a philosopher or a fighter?"

Sunday shot a quick glance toward the screen, his golden eyes amused. "Perhaps a bit of both."

As Ratio unleashed another wave of energy, the battle seemed to intensify. But the mysterious boss was relentless, responding with overwhelming force. The team began to feel the strain, but they weren't about to back down.

"Come on, guys, don’t let up! You’re so close!" You urged, a sense of desperation creeping into your voice. The enemy was weakening, but the team was running out of time.

Aventurine’s eyes gleamed as he saw the opening. "This is it!" With a flourish, he rolled the dice of fate one more time, pulling off a calculated strike. The boss’s defenses cracked, and with a final, well-placed blow, they brought the enemy to its knees.

The screen lit up with victory.

"Yes! Finally! That’s what I’m talking about!" You cheered, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Aventurine, breathing heavily but smiling, turned toward his team. "I knew it was in the cards. That’s how we do it."

Dan Heng, his posture still relaxed despite the battle, nodded once. "We’ve won, but I’ll be ready for the next challenge."

Sunday let out a quiet sigh, wings fluttering once. "A victory, but a fleeting one. There are always more battles ahead."

Ratio adjusted his robes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Not bad. I suppose there’s merit to a victory like this after all."

And with that, the battle was over. Your team, victorious once again. And while you could never physically see them, you knew they could hear you. After all, you were their guide, their unseen strategist.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, wiping your brow in relief. "But seriously—next time, let’s not roll a 1."

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youthereader · 1 month ago

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Echoes in the Dark part 2.

PAIRING: joel miller (the last of us) x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 2.3k words. Every morning you wake up and remember two things. Firstly, that your son is dead, and secondly, that Joel Miller is your patient. || A fix-it fic. Reader is Joel’s carer as he recovers from Abby’s attempt on his life.

RATING: eventually E (no smut in this part). age gap (reader is in their 30s, Joel is in his 60s). heavy angst, grief and loss of a child, graphic violence.

A/N: Thank you for your enthusiasm so far! Things are starting to heat up a little bit...

PART 1.

Maria shows up during breakfast the next day, hands deep in her pockets with a bright smile on her face despite the early hour. You return it, wondering what’s happened to warrant this.

“Sorry to interrupt your breakfast,” she says, stepping inside. She hastily wipes her boots on the doormat. “I had a question to ask you.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, letting her pass you. “What’s up?”

“How’s Joel been?”

“Uh, fine -” you point behind her. “You want a coffee?”

“Sure.”

She follows you into the kitchen and parks herself by the counter, and you grab a second mug for Maria from the cupboard. You pour hers and do the same in your own dirty mug. She declines sugar or milk.

“What did you wanna ask?” you murmur, holding your mug with both hands.

Maria smirks. “I already did.”

You blink at her, confused.

“I asked how Joel was going.”

“Oh, right,” you shut your eyes and give your best attempt at a laugh, relief coursing through you.

A million worse scenarios than this already churning in your mind’s eye, you didn’t expect this to be such an easy visit. You lapse into silence and Maria puts off drinking her coffee, taking a glance away from you, words hesitant.

“It’s just that he can be…”

“An asshole?” you prompt, and she grimaces.

“I was gonna say ‘a challenge’, but that works, too,” she admits, finally taking a gulp of coffee.

You hold up a hand. “Ellie’s word, not mine.”

Though you totally would describe him that way. You know that in other circumstances, you wouldn’t stand Joel for two seconds, but because he’s yours to look after, you’re trying to be diplomatic.

Ellie chewed him out yesterday when she came by, and you made yourself scarce, telling Joel you’d be back in an hour. You wanted them to have their privacy, since they had so little of it when they were in the hospital. You reminded him gently that he’d need a nap later, too. He grumbled under his breath, prompting Ellie to comment:

“You don’t have to be such an asshole all the time.”

You were already on your way out of his room, within earshot when she added:

“She’s really nice.”

Meaning what, exactly? That Joel’s treatment of you wasn’t fair, because you were just doing your job, or because Ellie could sense some semblance of ‘good’ in you? If it was the latter, you’d been convincing enough for a nineteen year-old to believe this version of yourself you presented. That was better than the alternative.

No-one knew that part of you, the one that Maria almost found out about when you first got to Jackson.

You drain your mug. “Joel’s got a check-up this afternoon.”

“Tommy told me,” Maria says with a nod. “What do you think?”

You shrug. “I think… I’m not a doctor.”

Maria waits, and you know she wants you on her side. It was one of the reasons she assigned you to her brother-in-law. It wasn’t because you’re a homebody with nothing else better to do, though sometimes at night that’s all you can tell yourself. You life feels so empty at times that you wonder how on earth you’ve made it this far. And then you force yourself to get up and read a book, because there’s no way you’re going to start remembering things, or start the ‘what-ifs’ again.

“Let me know if you need any help,” she says, and you nod. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Not a problem,” you reply.

Maria lets herself out, and you empty her mug in the sink, watching the liquid disappear down the drain. You wait another ten minutes before you dress for the day and go over to Joel’s.

On the walk there, you vow to align yourself with Joel. Granted, you don’t know the full story about Abby, but he barely got out of there alive. He cares about Ellie a lot, and he’s a part of the community, far more valuable than you’ve ever been.

The check-up doesn’t go as planned. The doctor gawks at you when you mention crutches, then refuses them. Joel is confined to his wheelchair or bed for the next week, depending on how he’s healing from now on.

“He’s only been conscious for five minutes and you’re already wanting him on crutches? That’s negligence,” the doctor hisses, and Joel frowns at him.

“Hey, she-”

“No, he’s right,” you cut in. Your arms are crossed where you sit beside him, your cheeks heating. “I’m sorry.”

You can’t have Joel admitting to nearly falling ass over tits. He’d be thrown back into the hospital, or taken to live with Tommy, and you don’t want him driven crazy. You care too much, and you know that, but it doesn’t make you any less right. You can’t have him being too honest right now.

The doctor dismisses you with a short wave. “It’s fine. You’ll get there eventually. But we’re being cautious.”

He and Joel talk about pain levels, diet… you begin to zone out, then come back when his sleeping situation is questioned.

“I’m fine alone,” he snaps. “Or this version of it.”

He regards you and you frown back at him, annoyed. You just stuck out your neck for him.

When you’re walking back to his place, you try to push the wheelchair as fast as possible. Joel hates this, and you both know it, the silence tense between you. Getting inside his place is time-consuming. You help him up the steps, then get him to sit on his couch, then take the wheelchair inside backwards, then slam the front door shut.

“Easy,” he calls.

“Sorry,” you mutter. You find him again, pulling off your gloves. “You want something to eat?”

He shakes his head, rubs his face. “You can go, I’m beat.”

“I’d rather not,” you say, and he glares at you.

His grumpy mug isn’t that scary when you know he can’t stand unassisted. In any other case…

Your mind drifts, considering the power in those limbs he once had, the way he pulled through all this because he was tough. You look at his hands, how much larger they are than yours. Fuck, they’re huge.

“Okay,” he mutters. “I’ll lie down for a bit.”

Returning to his bed, you help take off his boots, his jacket. Your head comes close to his and you smell his skin. It’s vaguely sweet, yet musky. You place a hand on his chest and he lowers himself gingerly, his eyes heavy.

“Do you want me to stick around?” you whisper, and he shakes his head.

“You got someplace to be?” he says. “Am I keeping you from someone?”

You shake your head, swallowing. You have to look away from his face, fussing with his blanket unnecessarily.

“I’m a widow.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” he says. “Any kids?”

You shake your head, biting your lip. “Nah.”

He was going to ask that eventually, since you hadn’t offered up much of yourself. You step away from the bed, fixing the curtains. In the dark, you see the shape of him under the blankets. You sense he’s already drifting off by how his breathing turns steady. You leave his door ajar and walk back to the couch, feeling the warmth of his body from before still lingering.

You close your eyes, and against your will, fall asleep, too.

You wake with a start, neck sore.

“What the fuck.”

You scrub at your eyes and wonder what woke you, then hear a groan in the distance. You jump up, almost tripping over your own feet as you sprint off. You find Joel on the floor, his pillow beside him. He’s lying on his good side, thank fuck.

“It’s okay…”

You try to scoop him up, snarling:

“Would you just let me fucking help you?”

He weighs a ton and you groan with him, helping him perch back on the edge of his bed, panting from the effort. You stay on the floor, your hair half in your face. You’re so angry.

“What were you even doing?”

“I fell, alright?” he yells. He pants like you, sweaty like you know you are. “I had a… bad dream and-”

You deflate a little, huffing. “What?”

A silence settles over you and then he sighs, passing a hand over his face. You stay on the floor, thinking that if you move he won’t ever speak again. You wish not for the first time that there was more you could do. You relent.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, and he doesn’t look at you, only nods. “Maybe we need to get a rail for your bed, to stop that from happening again.”

“What? No!” he snaps, and you shrink away instinctively at the volume of his voice. “I’m not a toddler-”

You scramble to your feet, turning away, a flurry of memories invading your vision. A hand in yours, a cupid’s bow on a round little face, the smell of the softest hair imaginable, a smile so like your own beaming back at you-

“No,” you whisper aloud, the emotion smacking you on the nose, your eyes blurring with tears.

You feel like you could sink into the floor and disappear from how heavy your heart becomes. All the while, Joel says your name three separate times, alarmed.

“I’m fine,” you gasp, though it’s so obvious you’re not.

You leave him there, running out of the house, falling to your knees on the front porch. The icy air hits your lungs and you take deep breaths, squeezing your eyes shut. You force the tears down. This is ludicrous. All Joel had to say was the word ‘toddler’ and you fall apart? Maybe it’s happening because you just woke up, and you’re still recovering from your panic from earlier…

“Stop,” you hiss, because you can’t sink any further. You won’t manage the night alone in your bed if you do. You won’t sleep for days.

Joel calls your name again and you take more steadying breaths, standing up straight, looking around. Thank fuck nobody is witness to this. You can’t handle any comforting touches or words.

“I’m fine, Joel,” you call back. “Just getting some fresh air.”

The weak sunlight breaks through the clouds and you wait another minute before you head back inside. Joel is in his chair, about to wheel himself into the hallway by the time you reach his bedroom doorway.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t be.”

“Maria came by my place this morning,” you say, determined to change the subject.

Joel’s hands pause. “What did she want?”

“I think she wanted me to divulge too much,” you say. You feel safer being honest, after he just saw you start to freak out. “I didn’t tell her about you nearly falling-”

“I know,” he says. “I trust you.”

You back at him. It could be such a throwaway line but you can’t ignore how something squeezes in your chest.

“I’m not gonna tell her about this, either,” you add, moving on. “Though I probably should.”

He glances away, considering this. You don’t mind that he’s taking longer to process this. At least he’s not arguing with you.

“I’m sick of this pyjamas, I want to change into decent clothes,” he says.

“You wanna go somewhere?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yeah. Maybe see Ellie.”

You nod back at him. “Okay.”

You open his drawers and he goes through them, handing you a charcoal t-shirt, a flannel shirt and some worn jeans. His socks are on the top of the pile on his bed.

You wait as he begins to unbutton his pyjama shirt, a set you guess was once black but has faded over time. You point to the jeans.

“I dunno about those with your leg. What about sweatpants?”

He nods and you see his bare chest for the first time, warmth flooding you all over. You feel exposed, your mouth dry as you take in his golden skin, the hair on his chest and stomach that disappears under his waistband. You know his stomach would be soft, and somehow simultaneously hard.

“Lemme.”

You lean toward him, his arms stretching up. He’s quiet again.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you add. “You can’t do this alone.”

He gives a breath of a laugh, and you move closer still. You can feel the heat of his skin. You push back the material off his shoulder, his mouth by your ear.

“It’s not that. I just have an old man’s body, nobody needs to see it.”

You scoff. He’s so beautiful. You wish he believed that his body was still capable, still great to look at. Not that that was part of your job description.

“That’s dumb,” you retort, pulling the shirt away completely. You toss it aside, picking up his clean shirt. “Arms.”

He obliges, a little smirk forming. A miracle - you’re maybe making Joel smile? You pull the shirt over his head, his face popping up again.

“There he is,” you murmur, and he actually laughs at that. You feel lighter, smiling down at him.

The pants prove difficult, especially when you’re tugging his pyjama bottoms off, revealing his thick thighs. You try not to be afraid of his bandaged one, putting one leg of his sweatpants over his ankle and then the other.

“Stand up. You’re okay.”

He groans a little, leaning onto you, gripping your shoulder over your jacket like a lifeline, as you slowly pull up the pants all the way up to his hips.

“You got it?” he says, and you nod.

“Just gotta get your old butt into this,” you mutter, pulling it all up, and he laughs again.

Lightning striking twice. You smile back at him, the moment passing. His arm is still around you. Your hand reaches up to pat his stomach, over his shirt, just once.

“Sit down.”

You take him to see Ellie, who promises to bring him back in one piece. You nod, and then Joel nods back at you, a small smile there.

You touch yourself that night. You welcome the feeling of something other than loneliness. You want him, more than you thought possible. You replay your day with him over and over. You remember his skin, and the smell of his musk and come hard, seeing stars.

😈😈😈 I can happily reveal this is not a slow burn. I am having so much fun with this, thank you for reading. 😘

PART 3.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller x you #echoes in the dark #pedro pascal fanfiction #fem reader

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