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carnalcrows · 28 days ago

Text

A WHOLE NEW WORLD

summary: You were never supposed to be anything more than a thief. But a stolen bracelet, a runaway heart, and a single reckless wish change everything. Now the world is spinning out of control—and the boy you can't forget might be the only real thing left to hold onto.

pairing: princess jasmine!choso kamo x alladin!male reader

content warnings: 18+, ftm choso (she/her pronous are used in the first half bc nobody knows of this), mahito is a warning of his own, top male reader, drowning, reader is an unreliable narrator (sorry bro).

word count: 8.0k

best viewed in dark mode

The market always smelled like too many things at once. Spices. Sand. Fruit that’s a little too ripe. Sweat. You’ve been running these streets since you were old enough to steal your first loaf of bread—and dumb enough to think it was free. These days, you know better. You know which stalls swap their goods by the hour, which alleys to cut through when the guards give chase, which rooftops creak beneath your weight and which ones won’t even notice you’re there.

And today? Today, you’re hungry. Not just for food, though you could eat. It’s the other kind of hunger. The kind that scratches at the back of your throat and says don’t sit still too long. The kind that makes you pickpocket out of boredom, not desperation. Which is why you swipe the silver apple from the merchant’s tray with a grin and no remorse, tuck it into your sash, and disappear into the crowd like smoke.

⋆｡°✩

“Thief!” someone yells. You sigh. That was faster than usual. Megumi chitters from your shoulder, fur twitching, eyes sharp as ever. He flicks your ear like this is somehow your fault. You flick him back and keep moving. You don’t run. Not yet. You walk like someone with somewhere to be. Let the tension build. Let the guards get close enough to think they have you. And when the right corner comes—you bolt.

⋆｡°✩

You lose them after five turns, three leaps, and one stolen chicken skewer that you do, in fact, eat. You’re not sorry. Megumi squeaks his approval as you hop down from the awning and dust off your hands. The back street is quieter here. Fewer eyes. Fewer witnesses. And that’s when you see her.

⋆｡°✩

Dark cloak. Hood up. Shoulders tense, like she doesn’t want to be here. Like the world is too loud for her today. But her hands are delicate where they rest on the edge of a fruit cart—fingers trailing over a pomegranate like she’s trying to remember what sweetness is supposed to feel like. Her eyes flick up. Meet yours. There’s a flash of something you don’t expect. Not fear. Not scorn. Recognition.

And then the fruit seller turns, sees her fingers on the goods, and yells something sharp in a dialect neither of you speak. Her eyes go wide. You step in without thinking. “Hey!” you bark. “That’s my sister.” The man scowls. “She doesn’t talk,” you add quickly. “Head injury. Real tragic.” You loop an arm around the stranger’s shoulders, tug her away from the cart before either of you get hit with a broomstick.

She doesn’t resist. Not until you’re two alleyways over and laughing breathlessly, and then—

“Why did you help me?” she asks, voice low, cautious.

You blink. Her hood’s fallen back a bit. Her face is pale and fine-featured. Sharp eyes. Loose braid. A little too well-groomed to be anyone’s sister from the lower quarter. You shrug. “Didn’t feel like watching you get yelled at.” She studies you. Really studies. Then—“You’re a thief,” she says, like she’s not sure whether to be impressed or irritated.

“I’m a specialist,” you correct. “It’s different.”

⋆｡°✩

She walks like someone who’s used to silence. That’s the first thing you notice. Even in the backstreets—where the city’s heartbeat slows and the noise fades into sun-warmed stone and dust—she moves like she’s afraid to take up space. You pretend not to notice. You’re good at pretending.

“So,” you say casually, adjusting Megumi’s grip on your shoulder. “You always ‘almost’ steal pomegranates, or was that just for flair?” She glances at you. Dry. “I wasn’t stealing.” You raise a brow. “You had your hand on it.” “I was thinking.” “Dangerous hobby.” She doesn’t answer that. Just keeps walking.

She doesn’t belong here. Not just because of the cloak or the way her braid looks like it was combed by someone paid to do it. It’s the way she watches everything—eyes sharp beneath the hood, like she’s memorising the exits. Like you used to.

“Are you lost?” you ask eventually. “No.” “Running from something?” She pauses. Then: “Not anymore.”

⋆｡°✩

You lead her to a little archway near the edge of the district—just low enough to duck into, just quiet enough to feel safe. You toss her a piece of the stolen chicken skewer. She catches it. Megumi squeaks at you like you’ve betrayed him. You toss him one too.

She eats slowly. Not like she’s starving—but like food hasn’t made her feel human in a while. The light catches on something at her wrist—a bracelet, mostly hidden by her sleeve. Woven threads and silver beads. Not expensive, but loved. You can tell.

“Nice bracelet,” you say casually. She covers it with her hand. “It was my mother’s,” she says, too quickly. You nod. Say nothing.

The moment stretches. Softens. And then— Footsteps. Heavy. Fast. Not guards. But not far off. You both freeze. You tug your hood lower. She pulls hers up. Your heart kicks once. Not from fear—from instinct.

“Come on,” you whisper. You grab her hand. She follows without hesitation.

⋆｡°✩

You split off near a vendor stall. “Go that way,” you tell her, gesturing to the alley. “Sharp right, then left again. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.” She hesitates. Then she nods. “Thank you.” You grin, backing away. “It’s what friends are for.” She rolls her eyes. Then disappears.

You wait until the coast is clear before slipping your hand into your pocket—and finding the bracelet you never meant to steal. Your stomach dips. You stare at the familiar weight. The tiny silver bead worn smooth in the centre. You didn’t take it to be cruel. You took it because… something about her made you want to keep a piece. Just for a little while. You sigh. “I’ll bring it back,” you tell Megumi, who just tilts his head. “I will.”

You’ve snuck into a lot of places before. Noble houses. Merchant vaults. One bathhouse, by accident (long story). But the royal palace? That’s new. It’s not the guards that make you hesitate. It’s not even the sheer size of it—white stone and winding corridors, too many windows and not enough exits. No, what throws you off is how clean it is. No dust. No noise. No secrets whispered in the walls. You hate it.

Megumi clings to your shoulder as you scale the garden wall, little claws digging into your shirt like he’s second-guessing your choices. You pat him once, then drop into the hedges. “I know,” you mutter. “But I promised.”

The bracelet weighs heavier today. Not just in your pocket. In your chest.

You don’t even know her name. But you remember the way her fingers curled over it. Like it wasn’t jewellery—like it was a memory. You’re not a good man. You know that. But you can be good for one thing. Even if it’s just this.

⋆｡°✩

You make it halfway across the inner courtyard before you see her. At first, you think you’re imagining it. The light hits just right—filtered through silk drapes and pale stone—and there she is, no hood, no cloak. Her braid is clean and tied back, her robes richer, darker, edged in silver thread. Two guards flank her at a respectful distance. Another man walks just behind her—dark-haired, sharp-eyed, well-dressed. Not a handmaiden. Not someone she reports to.

They’re following her.

Your heart stops.

She’s not just from the palace.

It’s her palace.

⋆｡°✩

You’re frozen in place, suddenly very aware of the bracelet in your pocket and the stolen way you’re dressed and the dirt still clinging to your boots. You shouldn’t be here. You don’t even know her name.

And she’s the princess.

You take a half-step forward anyway. You don’t know what you think is going to happen. Maybe you’ll give the bracelet back. Maybe you’ll say something—anything—before you vanish again into the city and pretend you never made a promise to someone you never should’ve touched.

And then—

“Caught you.”

⋆｡°✩

A hand clamps down on your shoulder. Hard. You twist. Megumi screeches and leaps off you. But it’s too late. You’re face-to-face with a man you’ve never seen before. Light blue hair, loosely tied. A smile that doesn’t touch his pale eyes. He’s dressed like a royal advisor. Gold trim, rich layers. But the look he gives you is sharp enough to slice.

He glances down at your hand. “Oh,” he purrs. “What’s this?” You don’t answer. “Breaking into the palace just to return a bracelet?” he asks, tone sweet and sour all at once. “How noble.”

You try to pull away. His grip tightens. “Come,” he says, and you feel your stomach drop. “Let’s talk.”

The desert doesn't begin the way you expect. It creeps in slowly—grain by grain, hush by hush. You don't even realize you've left the city until the horizon loses its edges and the color of the world flattens. Gold swallows grey. Stone gives way to sand. And suddenly you're small beneath a sky so wide, it feels like it's watching you.

Megumi is silent on your shoulder. Tense. You don't blame him.

Mahito glides ahead, his pale blue hair ghosting behind him like the tail of some ancient thing. He hasn't said much since dragging you from the palace. Just that there's a cave. That it's full of treasure. That you'll find what he needs at the center.

"You'll know it when you see it," he'd said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Now, as the wind picks up and the dunes shift under your boots, you're starting to think this wasn't one of your better ideas.

⋆｡°✩

The cave entrance yawns before you like a mouth. Massive. Monstrous. Carved from obsidian and gold in the shape of a jaguar—or maybe a lion, but wrong. Too sleek. Too alive. Its eyes glow. Its teeth form the archway.

Mahito sighs, almost bored. "Try not to touch anything but the lamp. The cave doesn't like greedy hands."

You stare at him. "That's it? No map? No backup plan?"

He grins. "Where's the fun in that?"

The moment your foot crosses the threshold, the ground rumbles.

⋆｡°✩

Inside, the air turns thick—warm with the scent of old incense and metal. The walls pulse with veins of gold that glow like trapped fire. And the treasure...

It's everywhere.

Goblets crusted with emeralds. Weapons wrapped in silk. Jewels in colours you don't have names for. You step carefully, avoiding the statue that watches with jewelled eyes—

—until Megumi squeaks.

You turn just in time to see the ruby in his paw.

Small. Beautiful. Terribly red.

"Megumi," you whisper.

The cave roars.

⋆｡°✩

Treasure collapses like water. The ground splits. You sprint, dodging falling stone, the lamp suddenly heavy in your grip as the entrance grinds shut behind you.

You make it out—barely—hands scrabbling at the ledge as your body dangles over nothing.

Mahito appears above you, framed by sunlight.

"Help!" you shout.

He smiles. "Pass me the lamp first."

You hesitate.

He stomps on your fingers.

⋆｡°✩

You fall.

For one terrible second, all you see is sky. Then stone. Then—

—Something catches you.

Soft. Woven.

A magic carpet sweeps beneath you, spiralling upward as Mahito's laughter fades. The lamp still burns in your hand.

You stare at it.

Wipe off the dust.

And give it one, tentative rub.

⋆｡°✩

The explosion of light nearly blinds you. Smoke pours out in brilliant blues and purples, the air buzzing like it's trying to become sound. Then—

A shape. A grin.

And a voice like laughter and lightning:

"DID SOMEBODY SAY WISHES?"

Standing before you is a man, glowing faintly at the edges, with white hair that sparkles like frost and a robe that won't stay one colour.

"Hi," he says, flashing teeth. "I'm your new favourite mistake."

You open your mouth. Close it.

Megumi faints.

The man catches him mid-collapse and coos, "Aww, that's fair."

You point. "What are you?"

He beams. "Genie. Name's Gojo. Wishes. Magic. Sparkles. Screaming exes. The usual." He tosses Megumi gently onto a cushion that wasn’t there a second ago. Then turns back to you.

“You get three wishes,” he says, lifting three glowing fingers. “No refunds, no substitutions, no wishing for more wishes, no bringing back the dead, and no, I can’t make your eyeliner sharper—that’s between you and your mirror.”

You stare. He waits. Then tilts his head.

“…You okay there, street rat?”

⋆｡°✩

You’re still trying to catch your breath when Gojo starts doing cartwheels in the air. Literal ones.

Glowing, twirling, smug-as-hell flips while conjuring a sparkling drink in one hand and a mini fireworks display in the other. Megumi clings to your shoulder like he’s ready to bite the next magical thing that moves.

“You okay there, sparkle-thief?” Gojo asks between spins. “Wanna make a wish? Something big? Bold? Perhaps shirtless with charisma?” You stare at him. Then down at the lamp in your hand. Then back up.

“…So you can do anything, right?” Gojo winks. “Three wishes. Anything your heart desires, babycakes.”

“No, no,” you say quickly, waving the lamp a little. “I mean outside the wishes. Just you. Can you do anything? Or do you need the wish to work your mojo?” Gojo puffs up immediately.

“Excuse me? Excuse me? I am the most powerful being in the known realms. You think I need permission to do a little trick like—” he gestures vaguely “—I dunno, get you out of here?”

You shrug, mock-casual. “I mean, this cave’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it? Magical, collapsing death trap and all that. Maybe you can’t.” Gojo’s eye twitches.

You lean back on your palms, baiting him harder. “I mean, I get it. Maybe that’s why you need the wishes. You know. Limits.” Megumi squeaks like he knows exactly what you’re doing.

Gojo freezes midair. Then slowly floats down, landing in front of you with arms crossed and a pout forming fast.

“You wound me.” You give him a little shrug and a smug grin. “Prove me wrong.”

⋆｡°✩

There’s a snap. A burst of wind. And suddenly, the world flips. The cave vanishes. The stone. The heat. Gone.

You’re standing in open desert again, beneath a pale violet sky, stars blinking into view one by one like they’re surprised to see you alive.

Megumi topples into the sand beside you. You blink. Then slowly turn. Gojo is frozen mid-strut, mid-celebration, one finger raised in triumph. And then—

His whole face drops.

“Wait.” You grin.

He stares at you. “You—”

“I didn’t wish for anything,” you say, smug and victorious. His mouth opens.

Closes. Opens again. “You tricked me!”

“You tricked yourself,” you say, dusting off your hands. Gojo slaps his forehead. “Oh my god, you gaslit a genie.”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘strategic flattery.’” He paces in a circle. “This is so embarrassing—this is like day one Genie Academy stuff—never let them goad you, Gojo—”

Megumi snickers. Gojo glares at him. “Don’t laugh. He’s your thief.” Megumi just grins wider.

You flop down in the sand with a sigh, running your fingers over the curve of the lamp. Still warm. Still yours.

Gojo eventually stops pacing and flops down next to you, kicking his sandals off mid-air.

“So,” he mutters, still sulking. “You've got three wishes left. Gonna wish for a palace? Infinite gold? A harem of emotionally damaged men?” You shake your head.

You pull the bracelet from your pocket. And you say, “I want to become a prince.”

Gojo raises a brow. “Oh? You royalty-curious now?” You smile a little.

“No,” you say. “But she is.”

⋆｡°✩

Gojo hovers upside down for a second. Then rolls onto his back in midair and kicks his legs like a teenager hearing drama for the first time.

“Ohhh,” he sings. “It’s a crush.” You shoot him a glare. “It’s not a—”

He floats closer, chin propped on one glowing hand. “She’s beautiful, mysterious, emotionally reserved, probably a little dangerous—”

You blink. “You’ve never even met her.”

“I’m magic, babe. I know things.” He spins once, flaring his sleeves with dramatic flair. “So! Wish number one: turn you into a prince. Let’s do this!”

You pause. Just for a second. “What’s the catch?” you ask warily. Gojo gasps. “How dare. I am deeply offended.”

“You said you’ve got screaming exes.”

“Yeah, but they’re mostly jealous I look this good in silk.”

“Gojo.”

“Fine, fine. No catch. But you have to be specific.” He floats down to eye level, suddenly serious—well, serious for him. “You wanna be a prince, I can do that. But a real prince? With history, backstory, legitimacy, social clout, a tragic origin story?” He wiggles his fingers. “You gotta be clear.”

You hesitate. Then say quietly, “I just need to be… enough. Enough for her to look at me like I belong in her world.”

Gojo softens. It’s barely there, but real.

“Got it,” he says. Then he claps his hands once.

And the world explodes.

You don’t know where you are.

There’s colour everywhere—glitter and silk, ribbons of light, sand turning to glass beneath your feet. Megumi yelps as he’s scooped into a flurry of golden fabric, then promptly drops out the other side wearing a tiny embroidered vest and hat.

You are also suddenly in new clothes. Many clothes.Too many. A turban appears, spins three times, and explodes.

A jacket snaps onto your shoulders, then vanishes, then reappears in a different colour. Gojo mutters to himself, throws a handful of stars into the air, and steps back.

The whirlwind fades. You stumble forward and catch a glimpse of yourself in the water.

You look like someone else.Not a stranger. Not fake.

Just… polished. Taller. Cleaner. Like a better version of who you’ve always tried to be. Gojo whistles.

“Damn. You’re gonna break hearts and laws with that face.” You stare.

Touch your chest. Then look up.

“…This is me?”

He grins. “For now.”

⋆｡°✩

It starts with music. Low and distant at first, like a heartbeat under the ground. Then louder. Brighter. Faster.

By the time it reaches the palace gates, the sound has become a parade. Drums pounding. Horns blaring. The ground practically shakes beneath it. People gather at the edges of the street, wide-eyed, murmuring, pushing to see what the noise is about.

The guards don’t even know what to do. One of them drops his spear. And at the centre of the chaos— You.

Perched atop an extravagant, over-decorated, too-sparkling chariot that Gojo conjured five minutes ago because, quote, “You need drama.” There are banners in colours you don’t recognise, dancers flanking your path, golden confetti swirling through the air like it’s trying to make up for your anxiety.

Megumi rides next to you on the magic carpet, arms folded and expression deeply unimpressed, wearing a crown Gojo forced on him.

You want to throw up. You smile instead.

⋆｡°✩

Choso watches from the upper balcony. He doesn’t say anything at first.

Geto stands beside him, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the spectacle below. “Another prince,” he mutters. Choso hums. This one’s different.

The way he smiles at the crowd—not too big, not too forced. The way he bows at the gates. The way he scans the palace—once, quickly, like he’s trying not to look for something he wants to see.

It tugs at something in his chest. Something familiar. He frowns.

⋆｡°✩

“Introducing,” Gojo declares from the front of the parade, spinning mid-air and throwing glitter like it's a legal requirement, “the dazzling, the dashing, the devastatingly single Prince of the Seven Sands and Fourteen Rivers and One Very Cool Monkey—”

You elbow him. Hard. Gojo coughs. “—I mean. Prince—”

The guards step aside. The palace gates open. And you step through.

⋆｡°✩

You’re led into the throne room with trumpets blaring, velvet swishing around your ankles, and Gojo whispering terrible advice in your ear.

“Don’t trip,” he mutters. “Don’t bow too low. Compliment her—them, compliment them. Say something about the tapestry. Or the hair. Or, ooh, eyes! But don’t say eyes first, that’s creepy. You know what, just—say nothing. Smile. Look rich.”

“Gojo.”

“Also, maybe mention your monkey. Everyone loves a monkey.”

“GOJO.”

He vanishes in a puff of smoke. You inhale slowly. And step forward.

⋆｡°✩

Choso is already seated. Elegant, poised, eyes unreadable behind thick lashes.

You bow too low.

Geto raises a brow. Mahito smirks from the side like he’s already smelling a lie. And the king—Gakuganji, crowned and ancient and only semi-awake—beams.

“Ah! Our guest!” he says, gesturing with a heavy hand. “Look at this fine young man! What a jawline!” You straighten. Smile. Try not to sweat. Choso blinks at you. You clear your throat.

“It’s an honour,” you say, your voice suddenly a bit too deep, a bit too dramatic. “To be in the presence of such radiant… uh, royalty.” Choso tilts her head.

You panic. “And of course,” you add, “to meet the legendary tiger. I hear it has an excellent sense of character.”

Yuuji, lounging beside the throne, bares his teeth. Loudly. Choso hums. “He usually growls at liars.”

“Ah,” you say, blinking. “How… loyal.”

⋆｡°✩

Mahito glides forward, all polite venom. “What kingdom did you say you were from again, Your Highness?”

You freeze. Think fast.

Gojo appears behind Mahito, invisible to everyone but you, making frantic throat-cutting motions. “Uh—the Eastern Expanse. South of the Glass Sea. Just beyond the Twin Cliffs of—”

“—Cringe?” Gojo mouths.

“—Valour,” you say tightly. Geto narrows his eyes. Mahito hums, clearly amused.

Choso sips from a cup and doesn’t even try to look interested.

⋆｡°✩

Gojo reappears beside Geto, this time visible, in a deep navy robe and too much jewellery, swirling wine and batting his lashes. “You must be exhausted,” he says softly. “All this watching. You should sit down. Or let someone rub your shoulders. Or maybe your ego?”

Geto blinks at him. Then smirks.

“Is this your first time attempting seduction?” he asks. Gojo grins, teeth sharp. “Would you like it to be my last?”

⋆｡°✩

You, meanwhile, are dying.

You’ve complimented the floor tiles. You’ve fumbled three metaphors. You’ve told a story about a camel that might not have landed. And Choso hasn’t smiled once.

Worse, she hasn’t looked at you the way she did in the alley. Not yet. But something in her gaze lingers now—longer than before. Like she’s trying to place a shadow she saw once. A voice she heard in a dream.

You shift, fingers brushing the inside of your sleeve where the bracelet still sits. And you think: Not yet.

⋆｡°✩

The palace quiets after dark.

Servants vanish behind doors. Lights dim. Voices hush. The music from the courtyard fades into nothing but wind moving through marble archways and the distant hiss of sand brushing against stone. You’re standing on the edge of the upper balcony, staring out at the stars, feeling like they’re too far away.

Behind you, footsteps. You turn. Choso steps into view, arms crossed over her chest, long coat pulled tight despite the heat. Her braid is loose. Her expression is unreadable.

“You’re out late,” she says. You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.” Choso doesn’t move closer, but doesn’t walk away either. You hesitate. Then smile, gentle. “Could say the same for you.”

“I’m always up late,” she replies. “Hard to rest when everything is so… quiet.” You nod. “Silence is loud, sometimes.”

A beat.

She glances sideways at you. “You’re different.” You tense. “Different how?”

“From the others,” she says. “The other suitors. You don’t walk like you’re owed something. You don’t speak like you believe your own story.” You glance down at the marble beneath your feet.

“I don’t.”

⋆｡°✩

Just then, Gojo appears beside you. Not fully visible—more of a glimmer in the air, like moonlight caught in motion.

He leans close. “Hey,” he whispers. “This is your moment.” You blink. “She’s standing there, all mysterious and gorgeous and complicated, and you’re just standing here like a guy with no game. You wanna impress her?”

You mutter under your breath, “I thought you weren’t supposed to interfere.” He winks. “I’m not interfering. I’m supporting. Now ask if she wants to see something cool.”

⋆｡°✩

You inhale. Then turn to Choso. “I know this sounds strange,” you say, “but… would you like to go for a ride?” Choso raises a brow.

You nod toward the balcony edge. “I have something to show you.” Her expression doesn’t change.

But after a beat, she says: “Fine. But if this is another metaphor, I’m leaving.” You grin. “It’s not.” You whistle.

And the carpet soars up from the shadows.

She steps back, startled. Then stares. The rug hums with magic, hovering just above the floor, tassels fluttering like they’re twitching with excitement. Choso blinks. “Is that—?”

“Sentient? Yeah. A little sassy too.” You step onto it first, then offer your hand. She hesitates. Then places her palm in yours.

Her fingers are cold. But her grip is strong. You help her up. She sits in front of you, eyes flicking to the edge of the balcony, then to the sky.

“…Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Nope,” you say, smiling. “But that’s the fun part.” And with a soft shudder—

The carpet lifts.

⋆｡°✩

The palace falls away beneath you. The night air rushes past your skin. Choso’s breath catches in her throat as the city unfurls beneath you—lanterns flickering in narrow alleys, domes gleaming under starlight, the world spread wide and glowing and endless.

She turns to look at you. You don’t say anything. You just hold on. And take her higher.

⋆｡°✩

You land softly, almost weightlessly, on the terrace just outside Choso’s chambers.

She’s still quiet, still wind-tousled, still flushed from the cold kiss of sky on her skin. Her braid is coming undone, and one hand rests on her chest like she’s trying to hold something in—something that might spill over if she speaks too soon.

You linger there a moment longer, letting the carpet drift backwards into the shadows. You watch her, eyes drawn to the way she turns from the railing to you. A slow pivot. Unreadable expression. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “For that.”

You smile. “Anytime.” You step back, ready to take your leave.

And before you think better of it, you add— “Good night, princess.” It’s meant to be charming. Light.

But her smile falters.

Not in a way that says hurt, not exactly. More like she’s standing on the edge of a truth he’s been holding for too long. You notice too late. “I’m not—” she starts, then stops.

She takes a breath. Steadies herself. And says it clearly, steadily: “I’m not a princess. I’m not even... her.” You blink.

She lifts her chin a little, eyes burning with something fierce and fragile all at once. “I’m a man,” she says. “I always have been. Even if—" She swallows. "Even if not everyone believes it.”

There’s a silence after that. Not empty. Heavy. Alive.

You don’t move. You don’t speak.

You just look at him—the way the moonlight brushes the sharp line of his jaw, the proud set of his shoulders, the tremble he tries to hide in his hands—and realise that somehow, he looks more royal now than he ever did in silk and jewels.

You find your voice. “I believe you.”

His next breath is shaky. “You thought I was someone else.”

“I didn’t,” you say. Quietly. Honest. He glances up. “I thought you were someone extraordinary,” you say. “I still do.” Something in his face cracks. Softens.

You step forward. Close enough to touch. But you don’t—not yet. “I don’t care about the title,” you murmur. “I don’t care about the rules. I care that you smiled at me once in an alley, and I haven’t been able to forget it since.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the day he was born.

And then— He reaches for you.

⋆｡°✩

His hands find the front of your robe. Yours find the line of his waist. It’s not frantic. It’s not even heated—at first.

It’s something slower. Deeper. Something that hums between your ribs and makes your skin ache just to be closer. When he kisses you, it’s hesitant. Careful. Testing the shape of your mouth like he's still afraid he’s not allowed.

You kiss him back like you’ve been waiting to. Like you knew, somehow.

Like this has always been the truth.

⋆｡°✩

The bed is quiet. Soft. Too large, too royal, too untouched by real life—but you forget that quickly. Because he’s beneath you.

Because his hands are in your hair, and your fingers are trembling as you trace them down the length of his spine, over the curve of his ribs, careful with every inch like he’s something sacred.

He breathes out your name when you kiss the spot just below his ear. His legs part instinctively when your body moves between them. Your name again—this time shakier, needier, like he’s falling open for you without even meaning to.

You ask before anything changes. He nods. And you move together like something pulled by gravity.

The room glows gold and shadow. His skin is warm. Softer than you thought. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

You kiss down his chest, over his stomach, tasting every part of him that he gives you. He arches when you touch him—soft sounds spilling from her lips like prayers, like confessions, like things never said aloud until now.

He wraps his legs around your waist. Whispers your name again like it means something new. And when you press into him— Slow, careful, trembling—

He doesn’t flinch. He lets you in.

⋆｡°✩

It’s slow. Not quiet.

He gasps when your hips move. Moans when your lips return to his. You try not to fall apart at the sound—try to last just a little longer, to feel all of him, to remember this as the first time you were seen and wanted and welcomed all at once.

He holds you tightly. Kisses you deeper. Moves with you, against you, beneath you. You don’t rush. You can’t. It builds like a wave.

Like heat and ache and everything breaking open. And when it crests—

You fall together.

⋆｡°✩

Afterwards, you lie tangled in silk sheets and shallow breaths, the world narrowed to the space between your bodies. Your hand in his. Your thumb brushes the line of his knuckles. You press a kiss to his temple. He exhales.

And smiles for real this time.

You wake to the sound of birds. Soft, scattered, high in the distant trees.

The kind of sound you never hear in the lower quarters of the city, where the only music is wheels against stone and the creak of heavy doors. You let it wash over you. Let yourself believe—for one last, fragile minute—that the world outside is as kind as this bed, this morning, this boy sleeping beside you.

Choso lies curled on his side, braid undone, dark hair fanned across the pillow like spilt ink. One hand rests loosely against your chest, fingers twitching now and then with dreams he hasn’t woken from yet.

The light filters in slow and gold, turning the silk sheets into something almost holy. It slips over the slope of his shoulders, the faint line of a scar near his collarbone, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

You could stay like this. You could forget the city, the lies, the borrowed name stitched into the back of your coat. You could forget the way Mahito watched you with a smile that never touched his eyes.

You could. But you don't.

You can't.

⋆｡°✩

You shift carefully, brushing your thumb over the back of Choso's hand. He stirs. Blinks sleepily up at you. His lashes catch the light. "...Morning," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," you say, softer. He doesn't pull away. Doesn't flinch. He just watches you for a moment, something unreadable moving behind his eyes, like he’s still waiting for you to change your mind now that the night is over.

You don't. You kiss his forehead. He exhales, a sound more felt than heard, and tucks himself closer. You let your fingers trail lightly down his back, tracing the spaces between his ribs, the small scars and marks of a life you haven’t heard about yet—but want to. You want to learn them all.

You think: I could stay. But footsteps echo down the corridor outside. A voice calls faintly—court summons, morning meetings, new dignitaries arriving. Reality creeps in like the tide.

You meet Choso’s gaze. Neither of you says it. Neither of you has to.

This world isn’t made for boys like you. Not yet.

You don’t realise you’re being followed until it’s too late.

The palace corridors twist like veins, familiar but shifting somehow in the heavy evening air. You’re almost back to the guest wing, to the safe warmth of Choso’s voice, when a shadow cuts across your path.

Mahito. Blocking the hall. Smiling like he’s been waiting for this. You freeze. Your fingers twitch toward the lamp hidden in your sash. Too slow.

⋆｡°✩

"You're clever," Mahito says, voice silk-slick. "I'll give you that." He steps closer. You don't move.

"But not clever enough." His pale eyes gleam. His hand lifts lazily—and before you can even reach for Megumi or the lamp— a sharp shove, magic crackling at your back—

You stumble. Arms grabbed. Ropes you can't see binding around your wrists, your ankles.

"Street rat," Mahito murmurs, almost tender. Then—

The balcony edge rushes up. He doesn't even watch you fall.

The air tears past you in a scream you can’t hear. The river below catches you in a brutal, crushing grip—icy and endless and roaring in your ears. You sink fast. Weighed down by silk, rope, and fear. You thrash. Fight. Try to scream for Gojo—but the water fills your mouth, your nose, your eyes, dragging you under.

You reach for the lamp with your bound hands. Mouth a desperate plea into the black. Please.

The lamp flashes against your chest. Heat surges in your lungs. And the world shatters.

⋆｡°✩

You’re gasping on the riverbank. Coughing so hard it tears at your throat. Gojo kneels beside you, drenched, furious, still sparking faintly with leftover magic.

"You—" he chokes, raking a hand through his wet hair. "You used your second wish." You can’t even answer. You just grip the sand, coughing, as Megumi clambers over your chest, clicking his teeth in frantic relief. "You’ve got one left," Gojo mutters.

Quiet now. Almost broken.

⋆｡°✩

But you don’t have time to think. Not yet. Because somewhere in the palace, Mahito still stands.

Still smiling. Still plotting. You push yourself to your feet.

And you run.

The guards are scattered. The throne room churns with confusion. Gakuganji—the Sultan—is slumped against his throne, eyes glazed, words slurring. At Mahito’s side, a tall staff gleams darkly, twisted into the shape of a cobra.

You don't need Gojo to tell you. The staff is the key. You charge.

⋆｡°✩

Mahito turns just as you reach him. He grins. "You just don’t know when to die, do you?" You don’t answer.

You swing— Hard. The staff cracks at the base, splintering under the force of your stolen sword.

The magic whines. Then— shatters. Gakuganji blinks. Shakes his head.And roars for the guards. Mahito snarls—lunges for you—but four soldiers tackle him before he can reach. They drag him toward the dungeons. He twists once to glare at you over his shoulder. "I’ll be back," he spits. "You’ll have to wait," you say, voice steady now.

And the doors slam behind him.

⋆｡°✩

Gakuganji turns to you. "You saved my mind," he says gruffly. "And my kingdom." You swallow. The lamp is heavy in your sleeve.He smiles.

A slow, approving smile. "And if my child wishes it," Gakuganji says, voice rising, "you shall have her hand."The room erupts in cheers. Choso stands stiff near the throne, eyes wide—face unreadable. And in that moment—

You realise the world would give you everything you want. If you kept lying.

Gojo appears by your side, quieter now. He doesn't say anything. Just looks at you. Waiting. Hoping. You tighten your fingers around the lamp. And you hesitate.

⋆｡°✩

The celebration fades around you.

You barely hear it—the clapping, the cheers, the way Gakuganji beams, and the royal guards stamp their spears in approval. All you see is Choso.

Standing a few steps away. Not smiling. Not rushing forward. Just… waiting. Hesitant. Hopeful. Fragile in a way that cuts deeper than anything Mahito could have thrown at you.

⋆｡°✩

Gojo stands at your side. Still shimmering faintly from the river. Still waiting. Not pushing. Not pleading. Just standing there like someone holding a string he already knows you’re about to let go of.

You reach for the lamp. Feel the weight of the final wish burning against your skin. Your throat tightens. You promised. When you first met him—lost and laughing in a puff of glitter—you promised you’d set him free. That was before you fell in love with the wrong name.

The wrong life. Before Choso looked at you like you were worth it. Before you knew what it felt like to belong.

⋆｡°✩

You close your fingers around the lamp. Breathe.

And you can feel Gojo’s gaze—steady and unbearably gentle. Waiting. Trusting. You falter. You think– Just a little longer. Just until the wedding. Just until you’re sure.

You need him. You can’t do this without him.

You can't.

⋆｡°✩

You lower the lamp. Don’t say the wish. Don’t say anything. The betrayal is small. Quiet. You don’t even see Gojo flinch.But you feel it.

In the way he goes, very still beside you.

In the way the magic in the air dims—like a candle guttering before it goes out. You glance at him. He smiles. Almost. A threadbare thing.

"Guess some promises are easier to break," he says softly. No anger. No accusation. Just… sadness.

⋆｡°✩

Before you can speak, before you can explain or apologise or take it back— Gojo retreats. The magic swirls around him, blue and gold and soft with resignation.

The lamp hums once in your hand. And he’s gone. Sealed away. Silent.

You stand alone in the throne room. Choso approaches carefully. And the crowd cheers again. But it sounds so far away. Like the echo of a door closing behind you.

⋆｡°✩

You don’t sleep that night. Not really. The palace celebrates around you—banquets and music and the rustle of gold—but it sounds muffled, like you’re hearing it through water.

You sit alone by the windows, staring out over the empty streets, watching the stars blur.

The lamp sits heavy in your hands. You haven’t touched it since Gojo vanished inside. You don’t know if he’s listening. Or if he even wants to anymore.

The knock at your door comes soft. You don’t move at first.

You think maybe it’s Choso—come to ask if you’re alright, to pull you out of your own head the way he did once with a single smile. But when the door creaks open—

You see blue hair. You see Mahito’s grin. And you know you’re too late.

⋆｡°✩

It’s not a fight– It’s a theft. A blur of motion—magic flaring cold and sharp in the small room—the lamp ripped from your hands before you can even shout. You stagger. Reach. Miss.

Mahito steps back into the shadows, lamp cradled against his chest like a prize he was always meant to have. "Thanks for keeping it warm," he says sweetly.

Then he’s gone. Vanished into the dark.

⋆｡°✩

The alarm rises seconds later. Too late.

Guards scrambling through the halls. Choso shouting your name across the marble. Geto throwing orders like knives. But none of it matters. Mahito has the lamp– And you know what comes next. You know because you know him—better than you want to.

He’ll wish for power. For the throne. For the kind of magic no mortal should ever touch. And no one—not even you—can stop him now.

⋆｡°✩

Unless. You run. You don’t think– you just move. Out of your chambers. Down the steps. Through the garden where the night air burns cold against your skin. You find Choso at the fountain, sword half-drawn, looking for you.

His eyes widen when he sees your face. "What happened?"You gasp for breath.

"He has the lamp." For a second—just one—fear flashes across Choso’s face.

But then he straightens. Grips his sword. "Then we take it back."

You reach the throne room just in time to see it happen.

Mahito stands at the centre of it all—grinning, wild, radiant with stolen magic. The lamp in one hand. Gakuganji slumped to one side. The guard kneeling with empty eyes.

He holds the lamp high. “I wish,” Mahito says, voice sharp with triumph, “to be Sultan!” The air twists. Magic slams into the walls, cracking stone and shattering chandeliers. The throne reshapes itself beneath him, black and gold and monstrous.

The room falls silent. Mahito—no longer an advisor, no longer anything human—turns his new crown in his hands. And laughs.

⋆｡°✩

You flinch backwards. Choso catches your arm. "Stay with me," he says, voice low. You nod. You draw your sword—cheap steel against magic. It feels useless.

But you raise it anyway. Because the alternative is letting Mahito win. And you’re not that boy anymore. You’re not a street rat sneaking bread from market stalls.

You’re someone worth fighting for.

⋆｡°✩

Mahito steps down from the throne with slow, theatrical strides. Around him, the corrupted guards start moving toward you. Choso draws his sword too. Geto appears from the side doors, slipping through the chaos, blade flashing as he cuts down two of Mahito’s enthralled soldiers.

Megumi—small and furious—claws his way up a guard’s leg and bites. You lunge forward. Steel against steel. Magic crackling at the edges of your vision.

⋆｡°✩

But you’re not winning. Not really.

Mahito’s too strong now. Too fast. Too twisted with power, he was never meant to touch. Every time you cut down a guard, two more replace them. You duck a strike, parry another, heart pounding, throat burning. You can feel the ground tilting—everything sliding toward ruin.

⋆｡°✩

And Mahito watches. Smiling. Like a cat watching mice tire themselves out before the kill. "You can’t win," he says lazily. "You’re nothing. You were always nothing." Your hand tightens on the sword hilt.

You think of Choso’s hand in yours. Of Gojo’s crooked smile. Of Megumi clinging to your jacket like you were something worth protecting. You raise your head. And you smile back.

⋆｡°✩

"You’re right," you say. You lower your sword. Mahito frowns– confused.

"You’re right," you say again, louder. "I’m nothing. Just a street rat. A liar. A thief." You take a slow step forward.

"You’re the powerful one now. You’re stronger than anyone. Smarter. Better." You meet his eyes.

"And it’s not enough, is it?" Mahito’s smile falters. The doubt creeps in. The greed. The fear that even with the world under his heel, someone somewhere might still look down on him. You step closer. Let him see the bait.

"If you’re really that great," you murmur, voice dropping to a whisper, "why settle for Sultan?" Mahito freezes. You smile, small and devastating.

"Why not wish to be the most powerful being in the world?"

⋆｡°✩

The silence snaps. Mahito whirls toward the lamp. His knuckles whiten around it. "I wish," he snarls, "to be a Genie!"

The magic screams. The world bends. The ground heaves beneath your feet as the lamp flares—blinding white and burning blue—and Mahito’s body twists, warps, shrinks.

He screams. Not in victory. In terror.

Because he understands, too late, what you already knew: Genies are powerful.

But they are never free.

Chains—gold and searing, lash around his wrists. The lamp yawns open like a mouth. And Mahito is dragged inside. Gone. Sealed.

Forever.

The throne room stills. You lower your sword. Choso catches you when your knees buckle, steady hands warm against your ribs. You close your eyes. And breathe.

⋆｡°✩

The throne room is a mess of broken marble and stunned silence. But none of it matters. Not the shattered columns, or the scorch marks on the floor, or the lingering weight of magic still trembling through the air. You’re still standing.

Choso’s hand is still wrapped around yours. And in your other hand— The lamp. Heavy.

Alive. Waiting.

⋆｡°✩

You lift it carefully. Thumb tracing the worn edge of the spout. You hear Gojo’s voice in your head—bright, careless, teasing:

"What would you wish for, street rat?" And you smile.

⋆｡°✩

You don't hesitate this time. You hold the lamp close. "I wish," you say, voice steady, "for Gojo to be free."

The magic bursts out like a second sunrise. Blinding. Joyous. Real.The lamp trembles in your grip—then stills.

And Gojo— Gojo appears in a cascade of light, blinking like he’s seeing the sky for the first time. He touches his own chest, stunned. No chains. No pull back into the lamp. Just him.

Just free.

He laughs—wild and hoarse and a little broken—and then turns and tackles you into a hug so hard you stagger back two steps. "You crazy, beautiful, reckless idiot," he breathes into your hair. You laugh too—wet and breathless and so full it almost hurts.

"You’re free," you whisper. "Yeah," he says, pulling back to beam at you. "Yeah, I am."

⋆｡°✩

Geto appears at his side, folding his arms and giving Gojo a once-over like he’s assessing a particularly troublesome stray cat. "So," Geto says dryly, "now that you’re not a mystical prisoner of cosmic servitude anymore…" Gojo grins, flashing teeth."You’re stuck with me," he says, leaning casually against Geto’s shoulder like he’s always belonged there.

Geto rolls his eyes. But his hand finds Gojo’s without hesitating. "S'pose I could do worse," he mutters. Gojo’s grin only widens. "Aw," he coos. "You like me."

"Don’t push your luck."

⋆｡°✩

The court regathers slowly. The king—Gakuganji—steps forward, the crown still slightly askew on his head, but his eyes clearer now than they have been in weeks. He looks at Choso.

Really looks at him. Like seeing him for the first time. And Choso—

Choso straightens. Takes a step closer. And says, quietly but firmly:

"I’m not your daughter." The words hang there. Heavy. Sacred. "I never was." A beat. A breath. And then— Gakuganji chuckles. Low. Rough. Like stone cracking. "Good," he says. "I never liked raising girls. Too much screaming." A pause. Then, softer:

"I’m proud of you."

Choso blinks. Then bows his head, just slightly, like he’s carrying something too big to hold all at once.

⋆｡°✩

"And," Gakuganji continues, voice carrying, "I suppose I’ll need a new law." You stiffen.

The king’s gaze sweeps the hall. "From this day on," he says, "royals may marry whomever they choose. No bloodlines. No borders."

His eyes settle on you. "Just hearts."

The hall breaks into cheers. You barely hear them. You’re too busy watching Choso. The way his mouth curves, small and shy. The way his fingers reach for yours again.

The way he shines.

⋆｡°✩

Later, in the garden where the stars first found you—

You stand with Choso under the heavy branches of a fig tree, the lamp finally quiet at your feet, and the moon turning the world silver. You take his hand. You feel it tremble. You let yours tremble too.

"You don’t have to say yes," you whisper. "You don’t owe me anything." Choso looks at you for a long moment. Then steps closer. Presses his forehead to yours.

"I’ve been waiting my whole life," he breathes, "for someone who sees me." You close your eyes. Breathe him in.

And the world—this strange, broken, mended world—feels like it might finally be yours. Together.

⋆｡°✩

Somewhere above, Gojo and Geto bicker about constellations. Megumi steals a peach tart from the palace kitchens and almost gets caught.

And you— You kiss Choso under the stars. Not because a story told you to. Not because a wish demanded it.

But because, for the first time—

You can.

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#male reader #top male reader #x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #x reader #gay #smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso x male reader #jjk choso #kamo choso

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no-144444 · 2 months ago

Text

a little better - c.leclerc

꩜ summary: charles puts a bit more effort in and it seems your bond is becoming stronger.

꩜ pairing: husband! charles leclerc x fem! pregnant! wife! reader

꩜ a/n: would yall want more parts of this? pray tell :0

part one (this can be read on it's own tho but this just gives more context)

“My love!” he called out as he came in the door. While Bahrain hadn’t been great, he still wanted to come home before the triple header ended. He’d been around the house so much during the break that not seeing you had become weird. In the past few weeks, he’d really noticed how different your lives had become now. Long gone were the late-night phone calls that used to define your relationship. Replaced only by text updates on things that concerned you both. He tried asking how your day was, but you just turned it straight back on him and started discussing strategy and asking how he was feeling. Long gone were the small flirty or sweet texts throughout the day. It seemed you were allergic to your phone before 9pm at night, or maybe you just knew his routines so well and didn’t think he’d want to hear from you before that. Which broke his heart.

Apparently everyone else had noticed it too. Carlos had thought he was in the process of a divorce when he went to him about it. All of Ferrari assumed you two were separated and trying to figure out how to co-parent. It made him sick. Mostly, because he knew it was all his fault. Where was the Charles that used to speak about you everyday? Where was the Charles that defended you to the press so fiercely when you first entered his life? Where was the Charles who wasn’t a complacent, selfish asshole, who cared about his family and work for them, not himself? That Charles was gone. Or just hidden, somewhere, deep inside of him. He just had to… bring him back from the dead.

“Charles?” you questioned, getting up from the couch and scrambling to hide something. He stopped in his tracks as you turned to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he admitted, trying to see what you were hiding. He snapped his attention back to you. “I got you these,” he smiled, handing over your favourite flowers. You looked dumb-struck.

“Oh,” you said, blatantly surprised. “Well, thank you,” you smiled back at him. “How was your weekend?”

“You know how my weekend was, mi amour,” he shook his head. “How was your weekend?”

Again, dumb-struck. If this was the standard he’d actually set for his love life, he was pathetic. “Oh, well… It was good. I watched the race, watched Arthur’s race. Umm…” you thought for a moment. “I went to Maria’s baby shower. Looked around for Montessori's. Called my parents. Went for lunch with your mom,” you shrugged. “Pretty simple.”

He nodded, the smile on his face never leaving. “That’s good. Seems relaxed.”

“It was,” you shrugged. There was a silence. An awkward silence. He would have punched his past self in the face. How were things awkward with his own wife? “Have you eaten?”

He shook his head. “N-no, not yet. Just… got a flight straight here.”

You nodded, seemingly shocked by his being there.

“What were you working on, there?” he pointed to the couch and whatever object you were trying to hide. You looked down.

“It’s stupid,” you shook your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I care,” he assured you, taking your hand. “I want to see.”

You took a deep breath and picked up a half-finished quilt, the crochet needles still in. It was all of the cars on the grid, but the Ferrari had his number on it. “Just… like having something to do with my hands when I watch tv. It’s stupid, I know-”

“It’s wonderful,” he whispered, emotion catching in his throat. How could he neglect you for so long? His wonderful, creative, caring, loving, intelligent wife. “I think it’s wonderful.”

“You do?” you questioned, your voice small. He nodded, his eyes clouding with tears.

“I do,” he nodded, wiping his eyes. There was a silence and he wrapped an arm around you (as much as he could, the bump was in the way). “We’re going to be parents,” he whispered out.

You nodded, a small smile on your face. “We are,” you were in quiet contemplation for a moment. “Do you want to see what I’ve done to the nursery so far?”

Another promise he’d broken, but alas, this was progress. You were here, you were talking, and you were close to him. He’d take whatever he could get from you.

“I’d love to,” he smiled and took your hand as you led him to the nursery. You opened the door and inside was a sanctuary. Playmats, toys, a diaper changing table, etc. It was yellow, and overlooked Monaco bay, the wonderful sight it was now as the sun set. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the mini helmets of his on the windowsill. The little pockets of Ferrari merch. Odes to him. He could’ve cried. “I’m sorry,” he whispered out and your face fell. “I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked.

You turned back to him.“Charles, what–”

“You never call me Charles,” he whispered, wiping his eyes. “It’s always Char, or Charlie, or love, or something else, but it’s never Charles. It’s too impersonal, remember?” He placed a hand on your cheek. He was referencing a night many years ago, when you said you’d only call him Char from then on. You were only friends then, yet he knew he was in love with you from that moment on. The way you smiled when you said it, the view of Mt. Fuji behind you, couldn’t compare. He just stared at you all night long.

“I don’t have to call you Charles-” you offered and he let out a teary cough.

He took a deep breath, gathering himself again. “It’s not that I don’t want you to,” he sniffled. “I want you to not want to. I want you to feel close to me again,” he admitted. “And I know that has everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you, but please baby, I can’t lose you.”

“You haven’t-” you stressed, but he cut you off again.

“When was the last time we went on a date that wasn’t a public event?” he asked. You were quiet.

“When was the last time I did something nice for you before today?”

You were quiet.

“When was the last time we had sex?”

“I'm pregnant-” “So your libido should be heightened,” he sighed and you looked down at the floor again. “When was the last time you felt loved by me? Cared for by me?”

“Tonight,” you shrugged. “You liked the blanket. You didn’t think it was stupid.”

“I don’t think anything you do is stupid,” he shook his head, his eyes focused on you. “But before then? When?”

“Maybe Monaco last year? When you ran up to me at the barrier and kissed me in front of everyone,” you shrugged, acting like that hadn’t been the memory holding you together for the past 8 months. “When you said you won it for me and your dad and Jules.”

He sniffled again and nodded, though his heart was aching. “I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

You didn’t speak. You just leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Let’s get some food, yeah?”

That didn’t leave much room for questioning. He followed you to the kitchen where you already had food cooking. Soup. Something comfortable and diet-approved as always. Catering everything to him. You sat across from each other and ate.

“How has the pregnancy been for you?” he asked.

`”We don’t have to get into that now-”

“I want to,” he pushed. “If you want to.”

You breathed out. “It’s… difficult. I’m in pain quite a lot, but I’m really excited to meet her,” you smiled softly. “I’m pretty scared about doing the delivery on my own, but my mom and your mom said they could be there, so that’s nice. My parents are going to come and help out the week I’m due and stay with your mom for two weeks, so that should be good. They’ll come over to help me out during the day and any nights I can’t do it on my own, since you’ll be racing,” you listed it all off, as if it wasn’t his biggest failing that he couldn’t be there. “So yeah. Scared but excited. What about you?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m excited too,” his voice was somber. “And I think I’d want to be with you in the delivery room… if you’d let me.”

“You don’t have to miss a race for me. I understand Charle- Char,” another knife in his heart. “I was just being dramatic and hormonal that day. Your career is important. You’re ambitious. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

He shook his head. “I want to be there. I really want to be there.”

“I don’t think Ferrari would let you-”

“Fuck ferrari,” he scoffed. “You’re my wife! If they can’t understand me wanting to be there for the birth of my child then I think I might be on the wrong team. Bon sang, je ne suis pas un robot de course.” (fuck’s sake, I’m not a racing robot).

You let out a small chuckle at how pressed he was getting. He stared back at you.

“What?” he questioned, a smirk creeping onto his lips.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, that small smile on your lips as you turned your attention back to your food. He shook his head and chuckled. “I missed you,” you admitted, the candle between you two lighting your face with a wonderful warm glow.

“I missed you too,” he reached across the table, taking your hand. “And I’ll be there for you, I promise.”

“Get it approved by Ferrari first,” ever the logical one. “Then we’ll talk about it,” you answered. “And this,” you signalled around you, and he knew you meant the whole night. Him caring. “Has to not just be a once-off, alright?”

He nodded. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise.”

Something about the way he said it made you believe him. You didn’t know if it terrified or exhilarated you. Either way, you had a long road to walk, but he would actually be there now, not just a figure in the distance.

And that felt a little better than before.

navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

taglist:

@awritingtree @boherahpsody @janeh22 @dustie-faerie @anayaverse @buckybarnessweetheart @scriptedinkbyxim @ferrarisstrategy

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lostintransist · 3 months ago

Note

Pretty please can you do a ghost version of the gym au? I’ve never laughed so hard reading something before!! Or one where they all end up at the gym and realize that they all know you

I have a different ask that I might go with a poly direction on. So anon, here is how meeting Simon goes 😘

Simon didn’t go to this gym. He was thinking about using it, but it wasn’t his current gym. Leave sucked. He didn’t have fun things or family to fill his time. Only doing physio. His sergeants had cajoled him into trying when he complained that he had to wait for weights at the gym closer to him that had machines and treadmills and stairs and the like.

The space had been designed with lifters in mind. Benches dotted the space, they had more than a single bar, and rack and racks of different types of weights. Simon wouldn’t admit it in front of Johnny and Kyle but he might come back. His eyes flitted over everyone. The space had variety. From muscle mommies to college gym rats to retired folks trying to lift away the reaper the space had room for everyone.

Sounds traveled in the open room. Not really a problem since everyone used headphones or used voices only loud enough to carry over the clicks and thumps of weights. Except nearing on twenty minutes ago now there had been an argument in the corner.

You and a man who had tried to intimidate you with the muscle mass he had amassed drew eyes. Whatever cutting words you used had stung. He left. You returned to your workout; lifts more aggressive than before.

Now, Simon didn’t mean to interact with you. He never really means to interact with women he isn’t paying but it happens.

Having finished his reps Simon set his weight down. The cleaning solution and towels lived in a central location on, what he assumed, was a structure supporting pole in the middle of the space. Standing, he heads for it.

Cleaning them before they were racked is expected here. He wonders how hard he would have to run down recruits to make them start doing that to the base equipment. Sometimes Simon skipped a specific workout in the main gym, slightly worried he would catch whatever the men brought home from their forays into society.

You step in front of the supplies the breath before Simon can. Not a problem. One lesson he had internalized was the ability to wait. Only dead snipers got impatient.

Several presses to the paper towel dispenser and you rip them off. Simon watches as you fold the length over itself to make a more manageable length and then spray it several times. Your hand has only just left the spray bottle when he reaches for it.

The teeth sinking into his arm, swallowing the ink skull on his forearm whole, should not illicit the reaction it did. You glance up at him after you bite.

Instead of shock lighting your eyes and lifting your brows, they narrow and tighten. Pressing more force into your mouth around his arm has Simon letting out the sluttiest of whimpers. Big man didn’t know he could whimper. He locked the sounds in his throat as the eye contact continued. After what felt like forever in a moment, you released him.

“You are not my asshole ex.”

“No.”

Goddamn, the things he would do to be your current boy toy flashed through his mind.

“Still shouldn’t reach in front of people. It’s rude.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You flick your eyes up and down his form and lift a brow.

“You monosyllabic or a sub?”

“Neither.”

The hum of disbelief starts low in your throat. It wraps itself around Simon’s nerve endings. Blood is rushing south faster than gravity.

With a final scan of his face, you can see, you turn and walk away.

Simon speeds through the same process you did, walking a bit bow-legged to the bench he had been using. Sitting, he cleans his weights but knows if he tries to stand the muscle mommies and God will see his affliction.

It really was his fault for not letting you move out of the way. Maybe Simon needed to interact with feral women a bit more often.

Maybe God did see his struggle and wanted to punish him more. Johnny and Kyle appeared. Kyle knelt behind his back, one knee on the bench and Johnny stepped between his spread knees.

“Mate, you need to put that biological weapon away so we can go home.” Johnny looked down at him with such a conflicted face.

“What do you think I been trying to do?” Simon hissed up at him.

Kyle, the asshole everyone thought was a saint, leaned in his ear.

“I bet she would bite you again if you asked real nice and offered a fancy dinner.”

Just like that, all the hard work Simon had put into forcing back the reaction was undone.

“When I can run after you Garrick, remember you train for speed,” Simon turned his head to glare at him, “I train for distance.”

The swallow that sounded in his ear satiated the need to punch the man with witnesses.

Johnny and Kyle made eye contact over Simon’s shoulder and then Kyle disappeared from his back.

When he reappeared at your side Simon tried to shoot to his feet. Johnny’s hand on his shoulder stopped all motion. The sergeant might not beat him on height but that didn’t mean he lacked the muscle to throw down.

Kyle smiled at you and got a smile in return. Fuck. Simon wanted your smile pointed at him.

When Kyle laid a flat hand against his thigh and then pointed to him Simon wanted to run. The man who could face down death, however gruesome the option, wanted to flee when your appraising eyes settled on him.

The shrug you give is accompanied by your phone appearing from a side pocket. Kyle types away on it and then swaggers back to Simon and Johnny.

Settling a hand on Johnny’s waist, he grins down at his lieutenant.

“Got you a date with a woman, L.T.”

“Even if she sucks the soul from my body, remember that I will get you both back for this.” Simon gave them his best Ghost face.

His men simply laughed.

Masterlist

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley

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lunarcowgirl · 2 months ago

Text

feelings unfettered | three

I am a helpless victim of my own crush on this man, take a part three of my goofy little jack abbot x f!doctor!reader fic <33

you can read part one here, and part two here !!

not my gif! but i am foaming at the mouth because of it! follow @ho-ii for all your juicy jack abbot gif needs x

yeah, there's something in the air at your shared post-confession breakfast. and it's not just 50 years worth of oil from the diner fryer.

from the office of the author: literally obsessed with my own creations so I've made a part three. it's not my fault, blame shawn and his facial structure and chosen character aura of dork/loser/demon-in-the-sheets. more soon? i'm scared of smut but then again i'm scared of not seeing these two get freaky

REQUESTS IN THE ASK BOX PLS!!!

warnings/content: 10+ year age gap, very EaRNEST feelings from these two, mentions of the horrors of american foods, author disrespects consistent perspective and grammatical rules like they owe her money, veryyyy minimal angst, mostly fluff, someone gets a their ass grabbed as a treat <33

word count: 2.6k (woooo baby we're back)

Dr Abbot considered himself to be in control of his own hands at all times and places thank you very much. He had over 30 years of experience in the profession of control. He had studied it, mastered it. It was not his fault that just 20 minutes prior to this moment your lips had been at his throat and your body so very soft under his touch. Now the mere two feet of sticky diner table between the two of you seemed an ocean. Would it be so strange, he pondered, to pull your chair around to be beside him? To bump knees and elbows into each other, for plates to stack and glasses to get mixed up in the bubble of space carved just for the two of you? He coughed slightly at the path of his own brain, embarrassed at the enormity of his feelings.

You were focused on the menu, eyes ticking down the options with care, lips formed into a rosebud pout. Jack wanted to crawl across the divide and kiss you silly, to taste the sweetness and the redness and to hear your heartbeat’s call from your throat. He wanted to feel that fizzing life under his hands, he wanted you to laugh your laugh into his mouth so he could swallow it whole, he wanted—

The shrill screech of a pack of kids attempting a prison break called him swiftly to earth, their poor father one poorly timed arm barrier away from a dislocated shoulder. He really, really, didn’t want to have to be a doctor right now. In fact, it seemed mighty appealing to give up the healing business altogether and put all his energy into memorising every last thing there was to know about you. Some dam wall within him had broken up on the roof, now every truth he’d covered up and hidden and repressed now sitting out in the unfettered daylight. It was terrifying…and exhilarating.

“I can never decide between sweet and savoury when it comes to breakfast.” You declared, slamming the menu down in a huff.

An endeared smile twitched at the corner of Jack’s mouth. He filed the information away, “Why not have both?”

Your eyebrows raised just a touch, a smirk appearing, “Why Dr Abbot, what a dangerous proposition…”

Jack shrugged, if only to dislodge the growing warmth in his chest, “When was the last time you ate? Your body could do with the carbs and sugar.”

In a flash your hand was across the table, grabbing his and raising it to your mouth. Two quick kisses were pressed to his knuckles, “Finally, a man that supports women’s right to choose both.”

You bit your bottom lip at your own cheek, winked and carefully deposited his hand back to him in exchange for the menu once more.

Oh God he was going to eat. You. Alive. You looked so innocent, as you kindly waved over a waitress, ordering in a clear, polite voice. What he wouldn’t give to have that polite mouth all over him.

For two people who had spent more time in uniform than either would like to admit, you had vastly different approaches to the return to American food. Jack had remained staunch in his habits, maintaining his belief that well-done toast with bacon and eggs was all a person really needed. Butter, perhaps, if one felt luxurious. You on the other hand, had spent each and every moment on foreign soil waiting for the moment you could feel the preservatives hit your veins again.

“I don’t care that I’m a doctor,” You said, smoothing cream across your already syrup soaked waffle, “If food cannot hold pleasure, then neither can life.”

Jack had finished his meal in a flash, eating like he was being chased. Now he had all the time in the world to lean back and watch you, noting and labelling every pronouncement and observation you made, filing them away in a little part of his mind that until now, he hadn’t allowed himself to open.

You took a big bite, nose scrunching in delight, shoulders dancing at an amount of sugar running through your system that would likely kill a small child. Jack was keeping a very firm hold on his own elbows, fingers digging into the skin to prevent it from falling straight off his bones. There was syrup, right in the corner of your mouth that you hadn’t noticed, lost in your own ecstasy.

The older he’d become, the easier is was to just surrender. To drift. His hand swept across the table in one smooth motion, his thumb finding your skin, wiping the sugar away. Your eyes flew open, surprise bright and red and hot on your cheeks. One soft blink, another - like you were seeing him for the very first time. His touch lingered there, drawing a soft reverent line across your bottom lip, relishing the fullness of it. If he couldn’t have those lips on his face, his neck and mouth, then he’d have them all over his fingers. It was barely a thought then, to draw back and bring his thumb into his own mouth. The man that never even looked sideways at sugar having his fill of it, and you.

There was something unreadable on your face as your gaze flicked across him, hunger maybe, hope. And then the flash of your tongue across your lip - finding just the remnants of him there, the butter he’d had on them from picking apart his toast. You feasted on each other from opposite sides of the table, rolling tastes across your tongue, finding them satisfactory, finding them addicting. If the appetizers where this good; the main meal was set to fill an empty stomach that had ached for a long, long time.

Waffle forgotten, Jack watched as you dived into your purse, rustling out a haphazard chunk of bills, tucking them quickly under the nearest plate.

“Wait, I’ll pay—”

“If we do not leave right now,” You hissed, “I am going to jump you in front of those very nice families.”

Jack made a bizarre croaking noise, his laugh getting lost somewhere in a cough. All the same, he dutifully rose to his feet, only somehow remembering to grab his backpack and coat. The pair of your writhed down the tight aisle towards the door, struggling to bundle up, not make any unnecessary contact with each other or send coffee flying into anyone’s laps. Bursting into the street, your head twisted this way and that, as if you couldn’t quite remember where you were or what you were supposed to be doing.

“Hey, hey…” Jack reached your side, gently taking your hand in his, “It’s ok, there’s no rush.”

You let out a slow breath, dancing from foot to foot, “Well we might have to rush, cause I don’t have gloves and I kinda need my fingers for work.”

Jack smiled, the biggest one you’d seen, “Well then hand the others over.” With both of your hands in his he pulled you gently to him, lifting your important doctoring tools to his mouth. Warm air blew across them, quickly followed by heat down your arms and into your chest and heart.

This close to him, so bundled up and protected and safe, you let a truth fall out onto the iced pavement.

“I’m scared you’re going to disappear.”

Jack frowned, moving your hands aside so they remained warm pressed against his face, “Why do you say that?”

“Well,” You shuffled nervously under the intensity of his gaze, “I hate to get into it all in the immense privacy offered by this public street.”

He cocked an eyebrow in subtle amusement but didn’t say a word, silently urging you on.

“You have a bit of a record of running hot and cold. And while this is obviously the hottest you’ve ever been, and I really mean that in all senses of the word, well…” You fought for the right words, wanting desperately not to push him away, but wanting to honour the twin desire of respecting your own heart.

Jack nodded slowly, letting the faint grey stubble rasp gently across your hands, “That makes a lot of sense.”

A breath you hadn’t realised you were holding released, the desire to run melted into nothingness, your feet stilled.

“I am sorry for being so…unreadable all this time. It was my own selfish way of keeping myself protected while also getting to have tastes of you,” He offered, eyes a little sad.

You just couldn’t help it, the vulnerability of his gorgeous, perpetually cranky man was going to have you on your knees.

He ploughed on, oblivious to the effect his words were having, “It’s not that the tastes weren’t good or that I didn’t want more…they were too good. Too powerful, too…” He shrugged, “fucking scary.”

Tears were threatening to make a fool of you, so you quickly popped onto your tip toes, lips now seeking the warmth of his own. He relinquished his hold on your hands to slide his fingers to the back of your neck and around your waist, drawing you up and up and up until you thought you would float out into space.

Behind you the door crashed open, spilling dozens of children out into the street, rushing to get to school, their parents furiously clucking and scolding and shooing them along. Caught in the swarm, the pair of you clung to each other, cheeks pressed tightly together to maintain some kind of mutual centre of gravity.

“Ok,” You laughed, “Now I seriously have to get you alone.”

Jack gently extracted himself so he could face you again, his large hands still encasing yours.

“As much as I want that…and believe me—,” His eyes were dark, “I want that—I think we should take this slow.”

You ducked your head, something that felt like embarrassment churning in your gut. You were the one just expressing fear at his intentions, and now you were surprised he didn’t want to take you in the street?

He took your chin gently and lifted your eyes up to meet his. So many times, you had found that gaze across a trauma table, something horrible and twisted stretched out between you, so many times you had found trust and respect and understanding in those eyes. They never failed to steady you, then and now.

“I would like to take you out sometime. Somewhere other than the diner across the street from the train station,” He said, earnestness clear in each word.

You couldn’t help it, you laughed.

“You can call me old fashioned,” He said, smile wide, “I don’t care — I’m old.”

You reached up and took his face in your hands, thumbs smoothing across his skin that had seen and weathered a lot of grief and pain. You were ready to show him some joy.

“I’d love that,” Came your simple reply, “And you might be old, but that means you’re wise. And there’s nothing sexier than a man with wisdom.”

He scoffed, wrestling you playfully down under his arm, lightly pinching your side until you shrieked with laughter and danced away.

“You are trouble.” He called, as you skipped away from him, “Trouble!”

In the end he caught you before you could dash up to the train platform, insisting again that his old-fashioned ways wouldn’t allow him to let you take public transport when he had a perfectly good passenger seat in his truck.

You curled comfortably up in the leather, relishing the seat warmer and Jack’s hand sandwiched between both of yours on your lap. Every now and then, you’d peek over your shoulder just so you could see your backpacks sitting next to each other in the backseat. You felt altogether giddy, and at peace - completely beside yourself with your luck.

“It wasn’t luck,” Jack said, eyes not shifting from the road, his free hand placed with precision at 2 o’clock on the wheel. You had said the words aloud without realising, your heart now altogether open.

“Well it feels like luck.” You replied, gently tracing the lines on the back of Jack’s hand. “Very nice dorsal metacarpel veins by the way.”

He let out a puff of a laugh, then repeated himself, “It wasn’t luck.”

“Then what was it, did I subconsciously bewitch you with the speed of my oxygen concentration calculations?”

“They are very impressive; you are way fucking quicker than I will ever be at them. But no,” He looked over at you, “It’s because you are brave.”

You returned to your tracing, but it was difficult to find the lines with tears in your eyes.

“You never let your mistakes define you, you are brave enough to try again. You choose to keep being happy, you are brave enough to keep fighting. You kept seeing something in me, even when I wasn’t brave enough to let you in.”

“Jesus,” You muttered, “This is why you never talk; you’d have people falling to their knees for you every minute of the day.”

His hand in your lap squeezed, “No, that didn’t just come from nowhere. I’ve been thinking those things for a long, long time.”

“You are worth being brave for,” Your words were quiet, but they felt heavy and steady in the space between you both.

You looked up and realised with a start you had made it to your street, your apartment building just a few feet in front of you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come up? After that speech the least I can do is offer you a tea?”

He reached over and tucked a piece of hair that had escaped from your braid behind your ear, careful not to bump your still healing piercing, “You don’t want me snoring on your couch, which is what I will be doing before the tea cools.”

“No,” You said, returning the favour by tucking a curl behind his ear, “I want you snoring in my bed.”

“God dammit James,” He groaned leaning back into his seat and running his hands over his face, “You are gonna kill me, I swear to God.”

“Don’t sound so—” A yawn overtook your words, “—pleased.”

He gave you a pointed look, “If we’re gonna do this, let’s at least be awake for it.”

You unclipped yourself, leant back into the backseat for your bag (sure to give Jack a full and unobstructed view of your favourite personal asset) and turned to open your door. At the last moment, you twisted back to him, face set.

He raised his eyebrows, a slightly braced smirk sitting on his face.

“If you’re not going to accept a lady’s very polite invitation upstairs then you legally have to do me a favour.”

The eyebrows shot down over a suspecting set of narrowed eyes, “This sounds dangerous.”

“Not at all,” You grinned, “Although…I thought you liked danger.”

“Like I said, you’re gonna kill me.”

“I’ve worked a tough shift Jack. A tough night shift. A girl sometimes needs a little extra something to give her the energy to make it up the front stairs.”

You leaned in with each word, letting your hand trail down his arm from his shoulder until you clasped around his wrist. Mouths inches from each other, you breathed in his anticipation, his hunger.

In one smooth motion you brought his hand to your ass, and closed your lips over his.

Something that tasted awfully like a moan slipped from his tongue to yours, and you relished each little bit of it. His hand squeezed, just a touch, as if unable to help itself. You released him with a pop, schooling your features into an innocent smile, and nudging the door open with your hip.

“I’ll see you at work Dr Abbot.”

A beat. A man restarting his heart, his brain.

“I’ll see you at work Trouble.”

~~~~

all for now, thanks for the luv xo

previous | next

#the pitt #jack abbot #jack abbott #jack abbot fic #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt fic #the pitt fluff #dr jack abbot #dr abbot #jack abbot x you #jack abbot angst #jack abbot fluff #jack abbot fanfiction #jack abbot x female reader #persiewrites

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hananan2 · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, are you writing NSFW? Well, my query isn't exactly NSFW, but the elements are present. I was thinking about a reader who is very sleepy (didn't get enough sleep because of exams or some other reason) and being a bit out of it starts telling different things about her love life with her boyfriend. And everyone around her blushes and just says, “Go to sleep please 🥹”. The guy's reaction depends on the character. I was thinking of Leona, Vil, Lilia, Jack, Sebek. I'd love it if you write about it, but if you don't like it, that's fine with me! Only in that case, please reply back that you don't want to write it so I know 😅.

don’t feel bad dw!! I didn’t post requesting rules (I did now!) when you asked so totally not your fault! While I don’t write NSFW, I write some suggestive stuff, which I think is what you’re asking for. I’m also going to take out Sebek and Jack if you don’t mind because not really comfortable with writing minor characters! I’ll do it!! So sorry if this is ooc☹️ I hope you enjoy!💕 (btw I’m gonna assume you wanted it as Fem!reader bc you were using her!)

—

To Tired to Think!

Summary: You could hardly get any sleep last night and your tired as hell throughout the whole day, while you’re near you boyfriend and other people, you accidentally slip up and say some things that should have been kept private… How does your boyfriend react?

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit and Lilia Vanrouge!

info: Established relationship, romantic, Fem!reader, suggestive & fluff-ish!

Cw: none!

Leona Kingscholar

You were fighting a war to stay awake the whole day and you were shot 53 times. Thanks to your amazing boyfriend, you ended up taking a nap in the evening, which not only didn’t make you sleepy at night, but delayed all your school work and work in general, so had to get that done at night, which cause you to look like a wobbling, sleepy mess the next day.

but speaking of you Amazing boyfriend who you unfortunately love, here you were in his room, leaning on his chest as you both sat up, his arm was wrapped around with his hand patting your thigh, the room filled with chatter. Jack and Ruggie wanted to talk with Leona about new spell drive game, so they were in the room alongside you guys , and you honestly did NOT care, they were just like kids honestly, you just wanted sleep.

But suddenly a few slurred mutters could be heard from someone and it was NOT about spell drive. “Leona so gentle in bed…. Needs to be more rough….zzz..” all talking ceased.

Jack looked horrified, Ruggie was processing what he had heard, Leona looked stunned too, his hand stopped patting your thigh to listen.

“Lots of stamina though… makes satisfed… happy…” you slurred out, your hands playing with eachother.

“I-I’m so sorry, I’ll leave… get Y/N the rest she needs… she seems tired… I’ll see you later guys.” Jack walked out flustered, now he knew many things about his house warden he never wanted to know, trauma is very real.

While Jack left with the burden of information, Leona smirked and pay you thigh, his previous confusion wiped away with amusement, “oh? You’re honest, c’mon, I wanna hear what i’m good at doll.”

meanwhile all this happened, Ruggie was laughing his ASS off, he was quaking, Leona questioned how he didn’t wake you up.

“Pfft- oh I never knew you were so soft!” Ruggie cackled between breaths, Leona looked like he was gonna strangle him again, “Maybe I am, now scram or no lunch money.” Leona threatened, oh and that threat WORKED, Ruggie was gone.

Leona looks at you fondly and broke into laughter alone as well, he pay your thigh one last time and ruffled your hair while you absolutely slumped, you were so surprising, it scared him, but it was one of his favorite things about you, never made him bored.

“You have guts in your sleep huh? Telling all our business to kiddos? I’ll have to hear more.” He spoke gently to you with a cocky smirk, but he knew you were tired, and it was pretty much his fault, so he picked you up and placed you on his bed, laying next to you and watched the sun glow on your skin in affection.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil did not approve of you staying up so late! You stayed up late, literally just because you were watching a movie and woke up like a zombie the next day, forgetting you had a test. So that happened.

Seeing this, Vil was upset that his lovely girlfriend was not taking care of herself and went into an obnoxious, but loving and worried rant about how sleeping is vital. But in the end, Vil couldn’t be too mad seeing your small, sleepy eyes and decided that would do your skincare and make you feel fresh, today was condicently the day where Vil had promised the freshmen’s to show them the steps and vitals traits in skincare, he asked if you were comfortable for being the subject and you said you didn’t care so sure!

so here you are, almost falling asleep every few seconds in a soft chair while Vils gentle hands applied product to your face, the room was filled with admiring freshmen, eager to learn from their guru, well, all expect Epel, but hey at least you were here, Rook also came along because of course he did.

While Vil explained why toner was a must-have in your skincare routine, he was interrupted by a exasperated voice, “Your fingers are so nice… so good… everywhere… in bedroom a lot…” you mumbled to Vil like you had forgotten there was a whole audience in the room. Vil’s face turned white

The freshmen gasped, probably their first time they’d been exposed to stuff considering they were all so proper, flutters of “How scandalous!” And “Vil’a fingers…” filling the room. Again though, not Epel, his jaw DROPPED, his expression a mix of amusement and pure terror. Of course, Rook was chuckling, "Oh comme c'est intéressant…” he commentated with an evil grin.

Vil’s cheeks were tinted pink, not knowing what to say, wow you actually made him shit up, good job, Epel would say that. In true honestly, Vil was more worried about you, he didn’t want anyone to make assumptions of you or him for that matter, he knew how kids were, no matter how much he whipped them into shape, they’re still dumb teenage boys.

“Haha my love is so silly, she really appreciates my back massages is all, it’s a trait that all of you should have, it’s very helpful to relax your body before bed and all.” That sounded more freaky somehow kinda?? But it filled the masses of freshmen with “Ohhhhs” and understanding, they commented on about how you were a little tired poor thing and needed rest, so it worked! Of course he did, he’s Vil! “Now now, I expect that all of you have taken note and will use all the references I have taught you in your daily life, so put them to use now and get some sleep all of you.” Vil stated in a firm voice, the freshmen nodded their heads and left, Epel knew damn well that was about no massages, and he was going to interrogate and tease you about it so beware. (Don’t worry you’ll just tell on him.)

Rook left giggling finally and Vil carried you over to his room, laying you to rest, he knew it wasn’t really your fault, he shouldn’t have picked on you when you were so tried, in all honestly, he would have liked what you said if it was in private, but he would discuss that with you later, he slowly kissed your forehead, you were so silly, “Goodnight meine liebe.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Game night is really fun! Not when it’s on a Sunday night thought because Sunday is FAKE. You stayed up all night to game with Lilia and some guy named Gloomurai, leaving you with laughs and joy at 8pm, but leaving you exhausted by 8am. Though today, you were having dinner with Malleus, Silver, Sebek and your beloved for a little family night!

So while the others distracted Lilia as best as possible with wild conversation and Sebek literally cracking his skull open, you finished cooking so no one died, of course, the boys helped you out when they snuck away.

But you were SO exhausted, and eating, wake, filling food really just made you want to pass out more, all of you were sitting and dining at the table, Malleus talking about how he found a hidden gargoyale in one of the schools pillars with a childish joy in his eyes, Sebek congratulating his liege, you and Lilia supporting his hobbies and Silver taking in the moment while he also fought to not land face first into his food like you.

You were muttering praises to Malleus while your fork slightly moved a little, your shoulder leaning on Lilia’s, but soon your mumbling took a turn.

“Lilia knows a lot too… so much… he knows how to work his tongue, fingers, di…” you thankfully drifted off.

Lilia was taken off guard, but soon his expression soon turned into loud laughter, he was slapping his knees, never in his 700 years of life! “Haha—! Infront of the kids wow!”

Malleus looked confused, he is surprisingly,but also unsurprisingly innocent. “Well yes, he has detected poisonous roots in dishes and has bore swords in many altercations with quite skillful precision, I agree with your statement, although, I am not aware of what this Di is.” Malleus commented with his hand on his chin.

more laughter erupted, oh my god this was bad but also not the worst thing ever?

“I ALSO WHOLEHEARTEDLY AGREE WITH YOU MY LIEGE ON THE HUMAN’S STATEMENT” Sebek declared proudly, crossing his arm over his heart

Silver was awoken with all the cacophony of laughter and Sebek. “Shush.” He gave Sebek a glare, which made him shut up.

“She’s sleeping, father please calm down as well, she needs rest.” Silver spoke calmly, finishing eating. In all honesty, Silver wasn’t asleep in that moment, your words woke him up, and unfortunately for him, he knew what you mean by your statement of muttered words. You hear a lot when people think you’re asleep and a quiet kid. But he chooses to act as if he didn’t hear it, thought there’s an audible twinge of embarrassment in his voice.

“Haha your right son. Alright you lot all best head to bed, you hear me? I’ll take care of the dishes and take Y/N to bed, clean the table.” Lilia said in a more mature voice, though he still had a sly grin on his face, everyone agreed and Lilia flew to his room with you in his arms, setting you on the bed. He looked down at you and pinched your cheek gently. “Cheeky.”

he smiled while covering you in a blanket, kissing the top of your head, you deserves that much. He’ll make sure to treat you to a hearty meal tommorow!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #silver vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #malleus draconia #epel felmier #rook hunt #twisted wonderland x reader #suggestive #silly

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softtdaisy · 4 months ago

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falling anyway / Aaron Hotchner

summary. hotch knows he shouldn't fall for the babysitter. but sometimes things are meant to be.

words count. 3 603

what to expect. fluffy and flirty, age gap but reader's age is not tell she's a student, jack is mentionned obivously

a/n. this is way longer that i thought it would be but i didn't want to say goodbye to this story, i want to write so many things about hotch and the babysitter so i hope you will love their story too 🥹

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There were different things that could make up for the terrible week you’ve spent.

Spending a chill day watching your favorite TV show.

Seeing your friends for a coffee or a drink.

And taking care of Jack Hotchner was also a solution.

You’ve been babysitting Jack for six months now. You needed a new part-time job; Aaron Hotchner, one of your father’s colleagues, needed a new babysitter. The deal was done.

You’ve never seen a kid so easy to take care of. Usually, you and Jack shared the same routine: you helped him with his homework, and he helped you make dinner. You would play some games and then show him a movie from your list of favorites from your childhood. Harry Potter? Done. Narnia? Too. Back to the future? To be done.

You were this close to calling him your best friend at this point. To be honest, you missed him when you weren’t babysitting him.

With Hotch’s job, your presence wasn’t so linear. When he had to leave for a few days, Jack was staying with the family. Days when he was still paying you. “It’s my fault you’re not working; I don’t want you to have financial issues,” he said when you fought to give him the money back. You felt like taking advantage of the situation, and you hated that. But you quickly learned that there was nothing you could do when Aaron Hotchner had decided something.

Not that you really mind the whole commanding trait.

“I’m sorry to ask you that,” you heard Hotch say on the phone. From the noises around, you guessed he was in his car.

Your Friday night plan was to stay home and forget about your week.

College was awful; you got bad grades in one of your favorite classes, and your date stood you up and ghosted you. But when Aaron Hotchner called you in a last-minute emergency, you found his plan way better than yours.

“This is an important dinner; I can’t excuse myself from going. I know it’s last minute, but…” You put him on speaker. His voice becomes a part of your get-ready playlist.

“Aaron,” you interrupted him. His name always felt like candy on your tongue. One that you’re not allowed to have, making it taste even sweeter. “I’ll be there in twenty; is it good for you?”

Then there was a silence that made you wonder if he even heard you. Then two words. “Thank you,” and silence again after he hung up.

You barely ever had any discussion with Hotch since you started working for him. Apart from the classic news from life, you never said much, and neither did he.

Jack, on the other hand, was a heavy speaker. It was thanks to him that you learned things from Hotch’s life: how work was taking much of his time and how he was barely going outside of it, which team he supported, or what kind of music he played in the car—but only when Jack was there.

You could only guess what he told his father about you in exchange.

When you arrived at Hotch’s place, he was the first thing you saw. On the phone, he was leaning against his car. His open suit jacket was flying with the wind, opening to his muscular chest and dad bod you could see through his shirt. And thinking about that, you realized how cliché you were for dreaming about the father of the kid you were babysitting.

But you’ve been on that road for so long now that you didn’t know the path to go back. Nor did you want to take it.

When Hotch saw you, he gave you a very short smile. He put his hand up, asking you to wait for him. And you did. Of course you did. You tried to focus on something to not overhear what he was saying, but it was hard when his voice sounded like a melody in your head.

His “bye” sounded like a secret code, and you finally let yourself turn to him. “Thank you again for coming.”

Hotch never really knew how to act around you. He was your boss, technically, but he couldn’t act as he was with the team. He didn't mean to sound too friendly or nice so you wouldn’t imagine things. He didn’t want you or your dad to hear that he was being flirty with his daughter or for Jack to lose you.

And this conflict was obvious in many situations. The way he moved his hand up showed he intended to shake yours before changing his mind and putting it on your shoulder. A greeting and thanking at the same time.

“I should be the one to thank you,” you replied with a laugh. “I needed something to change my mind, and Jack is perfect for this.”

You noticed the change in his expression when you said that. Clearly putting him in the investigator mode. “Are you alright?” Maybe you dreamt it, but for a second or two, his fingers were holding your shoulder tighter.

From the little time you spent with Hotch these past months, you thought he didn’t know you enough to care or to notice it anyway. Clearly putting aside the fact it was his work to see these kinds of things. So you simply brushed it off before he left, saying it was nothing important.

But Hotch did. He noticed the dark rings under your eyes or how you seemed to shine a little less than the other days. You were always so bubbly; sometimes you even made his day brighter with the little attention you seemed to give naturally. Like a much-needed smile, questioning him about his day or offering him a cookie from those you made with Jack earlier. Cookies that were staying at his place and that he could have taken himself. But you chose to offer it yourself.

And knowing you weren’t going well, I stayed with him the whole night. Even during his dinner with high-level agents from the FBI. At some point, he probably even missed some conversations. Too busy trying to understand what could be wrong with you. Or what he could do to help.

He knew it wasn’t really his place to help you in any way. But something he hated more than overstepping the line was being useless in front of someone’s bad mood.

Hotch didn’t come home until midnight. He wasn’t surprised to feel the calm inside. Even if Jack was a heavy sleeper, you always put the TV on a quiet volume just to be sure it wouldn’t wake him up. You always kept just the lamp beside the sofa to have a warm and cozy atmosphere. And since you’ve cleaned the kitchen after dinner, he could smell a mix of dish soap and your perfume in the air.

And like he expected, you were laying on his couch, with a blanket covering your legs, reading the same book he was on.

That was a kind of secret but not so secret habit you had. When Hotch noticed once or twice that you were reading the book he inadvertently left on his coffee table, this became a routine. You never talked about it. You both just liked the idea of sharing the same interest.

He stayed in the back, appreciating how peaceful his place was. Until he felt bad about being there without your awareness. So he put his keys in the bowl you helped Jack create for Father’s Day, slowly but still loud enough so you can hear it. And it worked.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Hotch, said, sitting next to you. He put his jacket on the back of the couch; his tie was slightly undone, and you tried not to focus on his undone cufflink too. You had a thing for the way his open sleeves were showing his muscled and hairy wrists.

“You didn’t,” you replied, bringing your knees up against your chest. “I'm getting used to hearing you coming back,” you added with a smile. It was only after the words left your mouth that you realized how domestic this sounded. And the little smile on his face let you know that he noticed too.

But that didn’t seem to bother him. Or at least, he didn’t say anything.

Instead, you watched as he put a doggy bag on the coffee table. “Don’t tell Jack, but I brought back the dessert.” He sounded so innocent, like a kid hiding his secret from his parents and not the other way around. You couldn’t contain your laugh when you watched him rub his hands before opening the box.

“Enjoy your dessert,” you said with a laugh. You also took that as a sign to leave. After such a long day, you guessed Hotch needed a moment for himself without the babysitter being underfoot. So you got up and took the blanket to fold it when he grabbed your hand softly. And showed you two spoons.

“I’m not eating that alone,” he offered, handing you one of the spoons with a shy smile. No words could explain the heat in your heart when you understood he wanted you around.

So you sat back, unintentionally closer to Hotch than you were before. So close that you even touched his thigh with yours. You both looked down, and the apologies left your lips quickly, taking enough distance so you weren’t this closeto sit on his lap anymore.

Looking away, you missed the blush on his cheeks after he lost your contact.

To lighten the mood, you tilted your spoon next to him to toast. When you heard him laugh so softly, like he didn’t even mean to, this felt like a victory. As hot as it can look on him, this serious look, you loved to make his day a little brighter.

But this victory was soon over when he turned to you. “Would you like to share what’s on your mind?” when you frowned, having too much respect for him to talk with your mouth full. “You said you needed to change your mind.”

You took a moment to think about it. You didn’t even remember telling him about that, making you wonder what other thoughts you slipped since you started working for him. Yet, talking to Hotch didn’t seem a bad idea. He had this comforting look in his eyes, and you felt safer next to him than you did with most people in your life.

“That’s stupid,” you started. You noticed the look he gave you; he didn’t like the idea of you judging yourself before speaking. But you chose to ignore it and told him about your week. “And I think I finally lost hope in love for good.” You finished your story with a sad laugh. Because there was some truth in this.

You were met with a silence. But when you turned your head to look at him, you saw that his eyes never left you. “You do?” he asked in a genuine and sincere tone. One that made you blush. Because a part of you still pretended like Hotch wasn’t really listening. It would have been easier to accept that you were opening your heart like that. This explained why you started looking at your cake instead.

“It’s just…I’m tired of running after men who clearly don’t appreciate me. I keep getting hopeless and sad because dating has become a joke for them. And it’s not one for me. And I just don’t know what to do.”

Before you noticed it, you were playing with your cake and reducing it to a pulp. Much like your heart these days.

“I just wished there were more men like…” You sighed, turning to look at Hotch. He was there, frowning, waiting to hear more. Not prepared for the last word missing from your sentence. “More like you,” you added.

Hotch froze, his spoon close to his lips. So close you missed the way it curled into a small smile. Both flattered and curious to see where you were heading with this idea.

“You’re great, you’re mature, you’re an amazing father, you know what you want, you take good care of you, of Jack, of this house. And I’m convinced you can take good care of a woman too. You’ve never been anything but nice and gentle with me, so I can't imagine how great you must be with someone you love.”

It has been a long time since Hotch heard that he might be a great man. Being a divorced, then widowed, single father working too much to the point he had to take a babysitter who was probably seeing his son more than he was wasn’t the definition of a great man for him. But maybe he was too hard on himself.

Or maybe you were too kind about him.

And maybe that was the reason it hit him like that. You were the one who said that. Not any woman he might have brought on a date, and probably won’t see again because he didn’t feel the connection he was craving for. You. Jack’s babysitter. The woman who hunted his dreams to the point he considered he might need to ask you to stop coming.

But he couldn’t do that to Jack, who clearly appreciated you a lot.

And selfish, he couldn’t do that to himself either. He loved seeing you around. He found some comfort in his crazy and not always so easy life knowing you would be there when he came home.

“I…I’m sorry.” You stuttered, getting up suddenly. You needed air. You needed to get out of here before proposing to Jack’s father and getting jobless. And maybe being removed from here, from the city, from the country even! Who knows what the BAU chief can do?

This time, you put the blanket away in a messy way. And soon, you were in the hallway, collecting your bag and even chose to put on your shoes after you passed the door to not waste another moment of his time.

But right when you were going to open the door, a big, hairy, somehow charismatic hand landed on the wood to prevent it. When you turned, you faced Hotch, who was closer to you than you imagined. “You mean that?” he asked, confused.

This whole minute of preparing your escape, you imagined he was still sitting on the sofa. Probably eating the part of the cake you left on the table, not bothering about you leaving, and maybe even thinking about the text he would send you tomorrow to inform you of your dismissal.

But you certainly did not imagine Hotch would run after you.

“Do you mean that?” he asked again, moving just a little closer to you. But enough for you to feel the desire from his body. You had to tilt your head backward to look at him and suddenly got lost in the beauty of his face. It was the first time you were seeing him like that, and you could be sure that your subconscious would be looking forward to putting this beautiful face in each one of your dreams.

No words left your lips, at first. So you simply nodded. “Say it.” Hotch whispered, bringing his face closer again. You could taste the luxurious wine he drank that night and the sweet dessert you both ate in his breath. And for a second, the single thing on your mind was how good it must taste on his lips too.

“I do,” you finally replied, looking up at his eyes. But his were down on your lips this time.

And after whispering a “good” that you almost missed, his lips finally tasted yours. In the softest and sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. There was something in the way Hotch felt almost vulnerable against you, like he didn’t know how to act. Yet, the experience was speaking too from the way he put you against the wall, how one of his hands ended up in your hair to grab them just with the right strength: enough to keep still and not hurting you. You were right; that man knew what he wanted and how to get it.

You let one of your hands run through his chest. You grabbed his loosened-up tie to gain a little height. Now that you got it, you wanted more of him.

But the reality hit you at the same time.

Or more exactly, when you heard little steps on the hallway coming to you.

Hotch was fast at stopping the kiss and putting a good distance between the two of you. Yet, he kept his hand on your waist longer. Long enough that when Jack finally appeared, you still felt the touch of his fingers on your skin.

“Daddy, you’re home.” Jack said in a sleepy voice, lazily walking to Hotch to hug him. You always loved how Hotch’s whole world seemed to light up every time his son was around. The love he had for him was undeniable.

“Let’s go back to sleep, buddy.” Hotch said, taking Jack in his arms to carry him back to his room. You watched as the little boy put his little hand on Hotch’s back, probably with no strength at all but just with the need to feel his dad with him. Every movement between the two of them seemed so natural.

But before leaving the living room, and probably reading your mind somehow, Hotch turned back to you and whispered, “Wait for me, please,” with a tone that clearly indicated it was both an order and a pleading.

So you did. But instead of sitting back on the couch, like he probably expected you to, you took the empty plates and did the dishes. Something you were used to, you did that only a few hours ago. You needed to keep your mind occupied while he wasn’t here; otherwise, you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t run away.

You were so focused on what you were doing that you didn’t hear Hotch coming back. You just felt his chest against your back when he approached. Thrills grew on your arms when he put his hands on the counter, surrounding you. When you turned your head to look at him, you noticed he had let go of his tie and had opened up the first button of his shirt.

“I can call you a taxi,” he whispered in your ear. You lost it at the contact of his lips with your skin. So much that you didn’t understand straight away what he said.

You then turned around to face him. “You kissed me, and now you’re sending me away? You have a weird way to deal with women,” you replied, frowning. You discovered a new expression on his face. A sweet and mostly flirty smile. One that had reached immediately to the top 3 of your favorite looks on him. “I might take back what I said earlier,” you added, yet still placing your hand on his chest. It wasn’t your fault; it was calling you.

“I just don’t want you to regret what happened tonight and feel pressured to stay here if you don’t want to.” Hotch felt like a high school boy who wanted to hide his girlfriend in his bedroom. And if he listened to his heart, he would. It was hard looking at you now that he knew this wasn’t all in his head and fantasy.

When he brought a hand to your face to put a strand of hair behind your ear, you cuddled against it. And feeling his thumb brushing your cheek softly was worth it. “You mean I have to go home knowing I can have this now?”

“I mean, you can stay the following nights to…have this.” He laughed, from the way you both worded it but also from the falsely menacing look you were giving him. You were making it harder for him to let you go.

This explained why you stayed longer like this, in the middle of the kitchen. Just talking and flirting until the driver was here. And you both lived through every minute like there was no tomorrow.

“Promise me you will tell me if you regret it.” Hotch said one last time when he opened the door for you. He had to be sure you got in the car safely. He also allowed him to have the option to keep you with him until the last second.

You replied with a kiss on his lips and a “I won’t,” said happily.

When he woke up the next morning, Hotch noticed he had a text from you. For a second, he got scared something happened after you went home. He was ready to jump out of bed. But when he opened it, he ended up giggling.

“I still don’t regret it.” you wrote.

It has been months, probably years, since he felt this lighthearted at the idea of texting a woman. But you weren’t any woman. You were you. Probably one of the few people to know him well, except from the team. So maybe it was meant to be. “I don’t regret it either,” he replied back. And when he saw the heart you left on the text and the bubble indicating you were writing, he added a new goal to his life: spending more time with you. And who knows, maybe considering that life and love still had some surprises to offer him.

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nevadancitizen · 5 months ago

Text

-> ROT IN PUREST GOLD

synopsis: you've been skipping through universes ever since you touched the source of the hexgates. through everything, you've never stopped searching for your viktor -- now, you've found him, and you just want to go home.

word count: 2.7k

ships: viktor/reader

tags: angst with a happy ending, fluff and angst, pre-established relationship

notes: inspired by purest gold by miracle of sound. and this is my first shot at writing viktor.. lmk if i got anything wrong ^_^

related reading: Oh Viktor, My Viktor (What Could’ve Been)

It’s been years since you saw Viktor. Many years – artificial years. Years spent close, away, at a distance but still observing. But they were never your Viktor.

Viktor with the accented voice and the long face. Viktor with the work ethic of a hive of worker honeybees, tireless and continuous. Viktor with the eyes of pure gold – never pyrite or brass with a yellow twinge. He’s always been made of the purest gold.

None of them ever could’ve replaced him. With all these alternate universes you were hopping between, you met plenty of Viktors. Some came close, but none replaced him. It wasn’t their faults; they couldn’t compete with a memory.

You were a variable, too, so you couldn’t blame them completely. You went by different names, had different stories. Anything to make this depressing, grueling trudge through many lives more tolerable.

Some things made things less annoying, like cars. (Well, sometimes. Sometimes they were a nuisance.) Cars are one of the things you think your Viktor would’ve liked to study. To take apart, to put back together, to modify and make better. You could see him becoming a real torque dork while listening to Speedfreaks FM.

Mostly because that’s what he insists on listening to when you drive him to his doctor’s appointments – both of which you’re doing right now. Well, this universe’s version of him insists on Speedfreaks FM, and insists on you not calling him a ‘torque dork.’ Differentiating the Viktors from each other gets really complicated really fast, but giving them numbers feels dehumanizing. (If you did, this Viktor would be V-24. You’ve been keeping track.)

You turn on your blinker and wait for an opening to drive into the parking lot. Beneath the chatter of the radio hosts, you can hear Viktor tap his slender fingers against his forearm crutch in the passenger seat. Another difference you’ve noticed – both his outward fidgeting and his different mobility aids.

When your turn comes, you turn your car into the parking lot. You slowly let the car drift, your foot hovering above the brake in case someone needs to cross.

You turn down the radio a few clicks. “You think you’ll need your wheelchair?”

Viktor is silent. You take your eyes off the road for a split second and glance at him. He’s looking out the side window, at the plaza’s tall buildings and a sign that says Pueblito Plaza.

“Viktor?” You say. “You hearing me?”

You pull into a parking spot and put the car in park. Worry eats through you – you don’t know what’s happening. Why is he acting like this?

He’s turned in his seat, looking through the back window at the buildings. There’s amazement on his face and for a second – a split second – he’s there. He’s your Viktor.

But he’s not. He’s not.

Those eyes are not gold. They are topaz and they are citrine. They are the yellow-orange that accompanies the sunrise. Beautiful, yes, but not yours.

“Where… are we?” He asks, his voice soft and wonderful.

“We’re going to your doctor appointment,” you say. “With… what’s her name? The pulmonologist. And then you have a CT chest scan.”

“No – the nation,” Viktor says. “What nation are we in? I have never seen technology like this.”

He runs a hand over the console of the car, then over the glovebox. He opens it, then looks inside. Nothing but napkins from fast food places and a laminated copy of your car insurance.

“What’re you looking for?” You ask. You turn the key, and the car shuts off.

“The power source,” Viktor says, looking at the key in your hand. “May I?”

“Viktor, you’re not cleared to drive,” you say, your voice growing sterner and firmer. “The doctors said your legs are… too weak or something – I don’t know.”

You clutch the key (and the carabiner it’s attached to) tighter in your hand. The charms hanging from it jingle and clink together. A small cog and a toy that looks like a spark plug make a metallic click as they collide.

“What is that?” Viktor reaches out, but just barely stops himself from touching the spark plug toy. You pause for a second, then give him the entire carabiner.

Viktor holds the spark plug toy up to his face, inspecting it closely. He lets the rest of the charms on the carabiner dangle freely. You watch him – watch his eyes. A spark of gold. A fleck of cooler color in a pool of a warmer, yellowish orange.

He sets the pad of his thumb on the hex of the toy (the hex here is a piece of metal on a spark plug fitted for a wrench – not the hex you were used to, so long ago). He wiggles it back and forth, then spins it. The hex spins with a barely-audible metallic rasp, like a fidget ring.

“It’s very intricate for a toy,” Viktor says. “Who made this?”

“Wh… you did. You gave that to me,” you say softly. “Why don’t you remember that?”

A quiet question nags the back of your mind – is Viktor getting worse?

You silently beg that you’re right. In a twisted, selfish way, you want him to get worse. You’ve taken care of Viktor before. Watched him die in multiple dimensions. In some of them, he even died in your arms, his golden eyes fading and his hand falling from your cheek.

You know what it’s like to watch him get worse. You’ve done it before, seen it before. You know what to do, how to grieve. You don’t know what you’d do if this is… Viktor. Viktor for real. Your Viktor.

“Are you trying to stifle my curiosity?” Viktor asks, a teasing smile on his face, his eyes still on the toy.

“You gave it to me… I don’t know, six, seven years ago?” You say. You turn so that your shoulder is leaning against the car seat, facing him. “A spark plug. It’s important to the engine. I don’t remember how. And now… I’m failing your test.”

Viktor puts the carabiner down on the console. He laughs, and he’s looking at you like… you don’t know how he’s looking at you. But it’s something familiar. Something long-lost that you’ve been yearning for.

“How could I test you on something I barely know anything about?” He asks. His smile falters a little.

“Don’t bullshit me,” you say, smiling. (His laughter always manages to make you smile.) “You know everything there is to know about cars, trucks, motorcycles…”

Viktor’s smile turns forced and confused. His eyebrows furrow a little. “I… have no idea what you’re talking about…”

And then he says it. He says your name. Your real name, your true name – the name V-1 called you. The name the real Viktor called you.

It goes through you like a cold shock. A baptism in electrified ice water. You want to put your hand to his throat and ask, “What the fuck? What the hell did you just call me? Who’re you talking about?”

You want to… but you can’t. You’re frozen until Viktor places a hand on yours.

You jerk it away, cradling both hands to your chest and scrunch back against the car door. “Don’t touch me.”

And he says your name again. Again, in that tone that invites sympathy, but mostly pity. He’s pitying you. You’ve gone through this too many times, with too many therapists.

“You – Viktor,” you say, his name coming out in a gasp. There’s a lump in your throat and you feel almost nauseous.

“You’re not… you’re not the real one,” you grind out. “You’re not my Viktor, so stop acting like it. In th– in this universe, you’re just a friend, and that’s it.”

Viktor is silent, his mouth agape. “My love –”

“Don’t! Please,” you say. The words escape you before you can do anything. “Please, just don’t. Who – who told you?”

“Who told me what?” Viktor asks. His voice is still soft and sympathetic and sickly sweet.

“That you’re… you were…” You slump against the car door. Your elbow knocks against the steering wheel.

You look at him again. Your eyes dart between both of his, looking, observing. They’re not gold anymore. Well, they never really were, but now they’re… they’re opaline – pearlescent. A whole kaleidoscope in a drop. This is something different, but, still… it’s almost like you can sense him. This is the true Viktor – your Viktor.

“I was there, Runeterra, the core of the hexgates, and then… I wasn’t. I’ve lived twenty-three lives before this. My first memory of… here… is of my fifteenth birthday party. I had to grow up all over again. Make new friends, go to a child’s school. I didn’t have anyone. And you –” Your voice catches in your throat, on both anger and sorrow. “You left me here! You left me to do this all alone!”

“I would never.” Viktor’s cold hands meet yours. He cradles them both. “I would never leave you, my love. I’m so, so sorry.”

“But you did!” You grip his hands as tight as you can, trying to savor the feeling. Tears well at the corners of your eyes. “You left me with this… this rot. These gilded Viktors that look like you, act like you. And it hurt. Everything hurts.”

“I know,” Viktor says softly. “You’re hurting me, too.”

You blink, then realise what you’re doing and loosen your grip on his hands. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He breathes out a soft laugh, then brushes his thumbs over your knuckles. “It must’ve been lonely, all by yourself.”

“You have no idea,” you say, your voice breaking a little. You blink hard, and a tear runs down your face. “We went to an arcade, and I spent all my quarters on you. We went to a museum, and I bought you a small paperweight of a statue that was on display there. We went to this weird, exotic place – Great Britain, I think it was called – and we shared tea and scones. And, no matter what I did, it… it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t right. It… he wasn’t you.”

“I’m here now.” Viktor gives your hands a gentle squeeze – much softer than what you gave him. “How long has it been?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you say tearfully. “Time moves differently here. Maybe… sixty years? I’m not sure.”

“Sixty?” Viktor balks. “Oh, my love…”

His hands slowly, carefully, move away from yours. Cold fingers meet your jaw, and your eyes flutter shut on instinct, head tilting down into the touch. Viktor cradles your face, both his thumbs brushing back-and-forth over your cheeks.

“I dreamt of you,” you say softly. “Every night. And I thought of you every day. Just… thinking of you, every moment I could spare.”

“Surely that’s an exaggeration,” Viktor says.

You shake your head and lean further into his touch. “I’ve waited so long… so long. And now you’re here, and I – I don’t know what to do.”

He moves his hands, the tips of his fingers splayed across the sides of your neck and his thumbs gently pressing into your temples. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “This is nice, though. Just… you being here is nice.”

You lean forward, placing your hands over his to ensure they stay in place. “It felt like eternity, waiting for you. Just waiting, and longing. None of them could replace you.”

You open your eyes, just the slightest bit, and take Viktor in. Good god, he’s Viktor. He’s your Viktor. No longer the purest gold, but something new. Something better. Something life-bringing and something with infinite mercy.

“That is flattering, coming from you,” Viktor says. “You could have anyone you want – anyone across twenty-four universes. And you chose me, in every single one? That is the highest praise I could receive.”

You breathe out a laugh as your eyes shut again. “Shut up.”

“Eh… if you continue to act like this, I don’t think I will,” he teases. In a softer, warmer tone, he adds, “Your face is getting warm, too. I can feel it.”

You groan and hide your face in Viktor’s hands further. Even though you act like you hate it, you’ve missed this – you’ve missed this immensely. His teasing, his compliments that make you feel like you hung the sun, the moon, and all the stars by yourself.

“Maybe you’re just getting warmer in general,” you say softly. “Maybe you’re getting better.”

“I have gotten better,” Viktor says, his voice light. “In our universe… I… I have touched the Arcane. I have been healed, and I am a healer. A herald into a new, better world – not only for the Undercity, but for the whole of Piltover.”

You shift his hands so that they’re resting on your cheeks and open your eyes, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “That sounds nice. I’m… sorry you had to do all that without me.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Viktor asks. “It’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know. I just…” You sigh. “I blamed it all on you, and I was angry. Real angry. But it wasn’t your fault – it wasn’t anyone’s. I was angry and I took it all out on the memory of you.”

“Do you really think I care?” His voice is soft as he swipes a thumb over your cheek.

“No,” you admit after a moment. “But, still…”

“You are occupying your mind with the past and what-ifs,” Viktor says. He draws a hand over your scalp, his fingernails lightly digging into the skin there. “Focus on the here, the now.”

You shudder and melt into his hands. Your eyes, though still closed, sting with a fresh wave of tears.

“I missed you,” you choke out.

“You’ve said that already,” Viktor says.

“I can’t say it enough,” you say, your voice sticky and wet. “I was your champion in the arena. I was your personal knight. I was the chieftain of your armies. I was your tool, your instrument. And you were my everything.”

“You are my everything,” he says. His tone is so sincere and heartfelt that it makes your throat seize up. “Why would you ever doubt that?”

“I didn’t,” you say. “It–it’s just that, all these memories… I was so many people, and so were you. And some things blur together, and it gets hard to differentiate everything, and…”

You groan and lean into Viktor’s touch. You glance up into his eyes, still opaline. “Everything got so complicated so fast. I just wanted you – the real you.”

“It’s okay, my love.” His hands move to hold your jaw, to draw you closer. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“But I feel like I have to,” you say. “I just… I just want you back. I wanna go back to the Viktor I know. I wanna go home.”

“We can go home,” Viktor says. “I can take you home.”

“Then take me home,” you say, almost too quickly. “Viktor, please.”

“You don’t have to beg,” he says. There is no teasing or hidden malice in his voice. He just wants you home, too.

Viktor’s hands slide to the back of your head, his palms almost cradling your skull. He presses his fingers down and tilts your head forward, towards his. Your eyes flutter shut as your forehead touches his.

It’s white. It’s the bright, cleansing light of some sort of heaven. Heaven? Haven? You’re not too sure. You’re not sure you can bring yourself to care, either. Not when you’re here – not when your Viktor is in reach. Not when you can touch him, hold him, talk to the one you love. The one you’ve been pining for, fighting for, losing and winning for. From somewhere between sixty years and eternity, you’ve been wanting him. And now he’s here. Your Viktor is here.

It’s unbelievable. Your Viktor is here.

The memories of your past lives, the former realities you’ve lived, meld and blur into distinct feelings. Visual memories blend into base emotions. A warrior’s pride. A traveler’s wanderlust. A teenager’s excitement. A knight’s confidence and courage. A chieftain’s insecurity cloaked as hostility.

They melt away into contentment. A gentle wave lapping at a quiet shore. Acceptance.

You are healed.

You are home.

#riptide writes 🌊#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x gn!reader #arcane #arcane x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #arcane viktor x you #viktor x y/n #viktor arcane x y/n #arcane viktor x y/n #viktor league of legends #viktor league of legends x reader #viktor lol

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martiansodas-blog · 5 months ago

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🎾 🤍💐✨🎀

standford!art who’s your best friend finds out no guy has ever hit your gspot before :(

“are you being serious?”

but it's so fuckin easy! he thinks

your cheeks get warm. you focus on the various hangnails you have instead of making eye contact.

“um...yeah.” you say quietly.

he immediately regrets having such a big reaction and scolds himself.

those rotten frat guys, they only care about one thing.

“hey, hey,” he touches your cheek and crouches a little so he's no longer towering over you. “i didn’t mean to embarrass you, sweetheart. it’s not your fault. they’re just inattentive."

“thanks.” you mutter with no expression in your voice.

he was too curious not to ask,

“have you ever found it by yourself?”

a laugh involuntary escaped.

“i’ve never tried.”

art fake pouts.

“you poor girl,” he coos, putting it on thick.

you scoff, but the heat in your cheeks only gets worse and you cant help but smile. he’s way too good at breaking your walls down, and he knew it

“i can show you, if you like.”

your body becomes unmoving.

"what?"

the most logical explanation you can think of is that he spoke a different language and it was lost in translation. because surely he wasn't offering what you think he was offering.

“what kind of friend would i be if i didn’t?”

he had that stupid smirk on his face.

“wait, you’re serious?? wha-”

he steps closer to you, close enough you can feel his body heat.

“we’ve always been closer than most friends, no?”

you shake your head.

“i mean, yeah, but that’s-“

his body goes stiff, eyebrows furrowed like that's the worst news you could've given him.

now he's the one shaking his head. his mostly blue eyes become fixed on the ground. he looked like a kicked puppy.

“that was a stupid idea. you're right. m'sorry. i don’t know why i brought it up."

he begins to walk off.

are you actually going to reject this offer from your insanely handsome best friend? half the girls at stanford would kill for this opportunity. and here it is, falling into your lap.

“wait!”

he wipes the smile off his face before turning around.

“yeah, uh… i’d like that.”

he breaks into a smile.

"really? i truly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

there's still a frown gracing his features.

"you didn't! you didn't. i was just caught off guard. that's all."

"...okay" he smirks slightly.

"okay."

another awkward silence presents itself. what should you-

"come over to my dorm at 8 tonight. that is of course unless you want to do it at yours and risk your roommate catching a free peep show."

his sudden confidence caught you off guard. he's giving you whiplash at this point.

"uh, no. no. yours is great."

who the hell can afford a private dorm as a sophomore?

oh right. tennis champions...

before he goes, he kisses you on the cheek. the first of many that would occur that day. his lips are the perfect proportion for his face and they feel like being touched by a pink cloud.

3 hours later

''FUCK, art, please"

"aww, i know baby. no one can treat you like i can."

its relentless. the entire time. the top half of him babys you while the bottom half tries to leave an imprint.

you didn't know your back could arch this much.

"are you gonna cry from how good it is? poor girl."

and you do. saltwater flows down your cheek and he wipes it off and cradles your head, showing you some mercy.

"you can do it, babygirl. you can give me one more, cant you?"

you nod fervently. it wasn't even about orgasming (of which you've done twice) anymore it was about making him happy.

"yes," you pant "ill come for you, artie, shit hnnn."

once you started babbling you couldn't stop. he thought it was adorable, honestly. he's never made a girl dumb on his cock this quickly. you really needed it.

you're gonna be so fun to play with. he thought.

he pecked your cheek while coaxing you through it.

"atta girl, make my cock all creamy for me. you can do it."

you feel every muscle, no. every atom in your body relaxes. and where your bodies met was so warm and slick and art might slip if he's not careful.

"there you go" he whispered into your neck. "so beautiful. such a good girl, im so proud of you. knew you could do it."

you think he is peppering kisses across your face and chest but you cant will your eyes to open yet and every inch of your skin is tingling.

your semiconsciousness works to his advantage because he loves resting inside you. he could fall asleep just like this but you probably wouldn't like that.

he strokes your hair and stares at you while you recover. he wants to let you fall asleep right away but knows that's not wise.

"c'mon, angel," he says softly as he scoops you up. "lets get you cleaned up."

#if you see me getting manipulated by a 6 ft blonde man with heterochromia #do not intervene i am exactly where i want to be.#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic #challengers fanfiction #challengers fanfic #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #art donaldson fanfiction #art donaldson smut

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imaginingmanyfandoms · 1 month ago

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don't shut me out - jaime tartt x kent!reader

part 2 to - worlds worst brother

summary; you've been ignoring roy, jamie helps roy fix things

Roy'd been iced out since the argument between you and him. Or rather since him yelling at you.

Jamie had acted completely normal during training, both with the team and one on one, but would go silent if Roy so much as hinted about asking about you. Jamie was giving him nothing and it was killing him. You were worse, completely ignoring him. His calls, his texts, wouldn't answer the door if he knocked.

Everyone was on edge around Roy. He was acting like a cornered animal, barking at anyone who got too close. Even made Ted falter before approaching him.

He couldn't stand you just being... gone. Roy fucking loved you guys, his sisters and Phoebe came before everyone, he'd give up anything for you guys at the drop of the hat. He just got mad when he saw Jamie in your room, Jamie didn't deserve to be in your room. Roy knows first hand what it's like to be the footballer in some girls' room. He just couldn't handle his emotions about it.

But a full week of you ignoring him gave him all the perspective he needed. He could tolerate Jamie, at least that little prick would be too scared to do anything to hurt you, if not anything else at least the fear of repercussions.

So as Roy stood in the locker room, arms crossed as Beard explained something new they were going to try at training today, he was just thinking about what he was going to say to you when he could finally get ahold of you. The team starting to get up and head to the pitch is what brought him back down to Earth.

"Jaime, hang back," he said, uncrossing his arms. Jamie looked hesitant, but did it anyway. A few stragglers looked on, wondering what was happening between the two now. Surprisingly, even though you and Jamie had agreed to stop hiding your relationship, Jamie had kept it tight lipped still, until you'd been able to sort things out with your brother.

"Look, if this about football I'm all ears, if it's about anything else I'd rather go with the team," Jamie said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder where the lads had gone out. "We shouldn't bring this stuff here, y'know, ain't proper."

"And who's fault is that, prick?"

Jamie frowns. "This is why she didn't want to tell ya." Jamie starts to leave, and Roy feels his breath catch in his throat.

"No, wait, you're right, I'm sorry," Roy chokes on the words but gets them out anyway.

Jamie stops. Turns. And squints at Roy, as if trying to decide whether he believes him or not. "It was never just fooling around, you know. I was always serious abou' 'er." Jamie crosses his arms, "And she wouldn't have even been sneakin if she thought there was another option."

Roy has to look away, just seeing Jamie and knowing what you two get up to behind closed doors grosses him out. He remembers the hickeys across Jamie's chest and has to close his eyes. Roy grunts, unable to think of the right thing to say.

"She almost broke up with me you know, that night," Jamie says, voice quiet as if the memory alone hurt him, Roy's seen Jamie vulnerable before, but this was different. "Same night we said I love you for the first time she almost broke up with me, scared the fuckin' daylights out of me. I had to convince her that it was okay for us to be happy together and that you would come 'round to it." Jamie crosses his arms. "So fuckin' get around to it."

"I'm trying," Roy says, guilty and frustrated, "but she won't even talk to me."

"Yeah, I know," Jamie whispers, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been tellin' 'er to call ya back, but I don't want to push my luck, scared she'll kick me out of bed."

"Please, Jamie," Roy groans, "fuck! I can't fix it if I can't talk to her."

"I should really get out there..." Jamie looks over his shoulder at the door. "But maybe you overheard me tellin' Isaac that I made reservations at seven at her favourite restaurant."

Roy doesn't say anything, just nods, and Jamie finally heads out to training without looking back.

"Jamie," you whined, holding his hand over the console of his car. "What if the paps see us, this is a popular spot."

"I thought we were gunna come out with it, love." He pulls your hand up to his face to pepper sweet kisses along your knuckles. "We don't have to hide away anymore."

"What if Roy thinks I'm shoving our relationship in his face?"

"Let's just focus on us for tonight, hmm? Focus on me and you going on a little dinner date without having to drive half an hour just to be out of sight of our friends? Isn't that a good thing?"

"It is," you relent, "it's so good. I don't want to feel like a secret anymore."

"Neither do I," he says, placing one more dramatic kiss against your hand, "so let's go be normal and have supper, yeah?"

"Okay," you say, "I love you."

Jamie smiles so wide it takes the unease right out of your mind. "Fuck, love, I'll never get tired of hearin' you say that. I love you too."

And he gets out of the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you, holding your hand to help you out of it, and guides you to the door with a gentle hand on your lower back.

"Ah, Mr. Tartt, welcome. Your table is ready, and your guest has already arrived. Follow me please," the maître d said, guiding the two of you to a nice table in the back.

"Who's the guest?" you whisper, leaning more into Jamie's side.

His hand on your back remains there, comforting and supportive. "Don't be mad," is his only reply, and you see why when Roy is sitting at the table, fiddling awkwardly with the collar of his shirt, like it was too tight around his neck.

As Jamie pulls out your chair for you, you hesitate to sit down, looking between the two of them with a frown. Jamie just smiles reassuringly, taking your hand in his and leading you to take your seat.

"Please," Roy says before anyone else can speak. "Let's just talk. You promised me we'd have a sit down with your new boyfriend, and here we are."

"I don't want you to yell at me in public," you say, voice low and worried, and Roy's heart breaks all over again, just at the thought of you thinking of him like that.

"I won't yell," he promises, "I just want to apologize and talk to you both, okay?"

You nod, and don't say anything. Jamie's mouth forms an uncomfortable smile, and orders wine for the table when the waiter comes by the first time.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it." Roy shakes his, eyes cast downwards, afraid to see anymore sadness on your face. He's supposed to pummel anyone that hurts you, and he's the cause of it this time. "I love you, you have to know that by now. I was just, it caught me really off guard, yeah? And it hurt me to find him sneaking around and I couldn't handle is so I lashed out at you, but I didn't mean it. I could never be tired of you, ever. We're best friends, right? I'm your big brother, I'm supposed to be a prick about who you're dating. Especially when you're dating a prick."

You smile a little, but you also kick him under the table. He laughs, "and you're my little sister. You're supposed to drive me to the edge and date the worst guys."

"I'm right here," Jamie says, scoffing. "This apology to her is insulting to me."

"You'll be fine," you and Roy say at the time.

"Where is that wine?" Jamie asks, looking over his shoulder. "I'm bein' ganged up on."

"I love you, and I'm sorry."

"I love you too Roy," you say reaching across the table to grab his hand. He squeezes back, smiling. "And I love Jamie." Roy's smile drops. "And if you're not going to be okay with that then I don't know what to do."

"I'll be fine," Roy says, squeezing your hand again. "What matters is that he makes you happy, that's... that's all I care about."

You let go of Roy's hand, and slide over to grab Jamie's, the two of you sharing a dopey, love sick smile. "He does."

"But if I ever see another hickey on either of you I'll kill you both." Roy crosses his arms. "Please, don't ever shut me out like that again, if you're mad at me, yell at me. But don't just disappear, okay?" Roy's eyes held sadness, and you nod your head. "And you," he points to Jamie, "are never, ever allowed to talk about your sex life in any way, shape, or form in the locker room. I don't care if I'm in my office or fucking Canada, not a word."

"Not a word," Jamie says nodding his head thoughtfully, "no matter how fuckin' great of a sex life it is."

Roy's eye twitches. You hit Jamie in the arm.

#imagine #imagines #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt x kent!reader #ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso (tv)

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f1boistrash · 1 year ago

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i have a name | l.s

a/n: so this is an idea i had after the miami gp and its been stuck in my head so im finally writing it. there is some slight jos slander and reader is max's sister

summary: y/n verstappen drives for f1 academy. they find comfort in a certain american when the media gets too much

Your whole life you've always been Max's sister. You didn't hate your brother for it because it wasn't his fault. You hated the world for being so small minded. You hated your dad for not caring. His words stuck in your head like a broken record. 'You're overreacting Y/N. It's not a big deal. You need to grow up.'

But it was a big deal because why couldn't they be bothered to learn your name. Your accomplishments throughout your career always amounted to 'Max's sister' it was never 'Y/N Verstappen'. You were sure if they could your trophies would say that too.

Going into the F1 Academy you thought it'd be different. You were excited when you got the call. The first person you told was Max and he was even more excited than you, if that was even possible. You were at the forefront of the series, watching young girls across the world become interested in the sport you loved. Something you wished you had growing up.

The driving was great. The team was great. Everything was great except the media. Its the one thing you dreaded stepping into the spotlight more. You tried to develop a thick skin like your brother but it was difficult when you constantly got picked at.

"So, Y/N, great day today. You qualified third. How was it?" The interviewer asked.

"Yeah it was great. Obviously we'd prefer P1 but we're still happy with the result and looking forward to pushing it even more tomorrow." You replied, grinning at your result. It might not be front of the grid but you were still proud.

"Your brother Max had a phenomenal season last year. Can we expect the same this year?" And there it was. Your first interview of the weekend and it only took one question before they asked you about your brother. Normally you didn't mind talking about Max's accomplishments. You were so unbelievably proud of him. It's when they start talking about him when they should be asking you about your race and your season that you get annoyed.

You plastered on your fake smile, hoping no one saw the disappointment flash across your face. "It's hard to say what this year will bring but what I do know is that Max will give it his everything. Whatever happens though I'm still proud of him."

Before anymore questions about Max could be asked your manager made a sign that time was up. You thanked the interviewer and left the media pen. She gave you a run down of tomorrows schedule as you were now finished for the day. Your manager didn't need to ask if you were okay because she knew you weren't. Working with you for a few years meant she had learnt all your tells.

You thanked her for today before parting ways, leaving you alone. The night air was brisk but welcoming. You shut your eyes and sighed enjoying the silence. You were supposed to be meeting Max tonight yet you couldn't bring yourself to move. Not wanting to face him just yet.

It was late and you weren't expecting many people left at the grid. Especially the F1 drivers which was why you jumped when a voice broke the silence. "Y/N right?" Logan said, your stomach fluttered when you looked at him. You have never really spoken to Logan before, only seeing him in passing but you always thought he was cute. He also called you by your name and not 'Max's sister' which was a welcomed surprise, used to his friends calling you that. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine, just wasn't expecting anyone to be left at the track." You told him. You took in his appearance under the setting sun. He was in his Williams uniform, his hair slightly tousled from wearing his hat all day.

"Yeah, I was just heading out. Had to do a few tweaks before tomorrow. What are you doing here late?" He asked.

"Media." You grimaced. Logan laughed, understanding your reaction.

"That bad huh?"

"Yep." You nodded. "Talked about Max the whole time."

The two of slowly started walking towards the car you have rented this weekend. It was one of the few left in the parking lot. "Seriously? That's so shit." Logan said, shaking his head. It wasn't out of pity though, more like anger.

"You get used to it." You shrugged.

"You shouldn't have to though." He told you, pulling you both to a stop. His eyes, looking at you intensely making you nervous. "You were incredible out there today and I'll definitely be watching tomorrow as you get your first podium of the season."

"Wait, you watched qualifying?" You asked, surprised.

"Don't tell my trainer though." Logan grinned, winking at you making you laugh. It was a sound he could get used to.

"Well thank you Logan. It means a lot." You thanked him, coming to a stop when you reached the drivers seat door.

"You have a name, Y/N. Your not just Max Verstappen's sister and I hope you know that." He said, earnestly.

You don't know what came over you but you found yourself leaning up, pressing a kiss on Logan's cheek. "Thank you."

-x-

"You're late." Was all Max said as you walked through your hotel room door. You kicked off your shoes, walking further into the room seeing your brother lying on your freshly made bed scrolling on his phone.

"Don't you have a sim race or something?" You asked, shoving his feet off your bed trying to change the subject because what else can you say? The reason you were late was the slight breakdown you had about the interview and then you bumped into Logan. You couldn't exactly tell Max that.

He playfully stuck his middle finger up at you, knowing you were making fun of him. "How was your day anyway? Excited for tomorrow?"

"Yeah it was good." You lied. You liked that Max was oblivious sometimes because it meant you didn't have to talk about what people said about you. However, you also hated his obliviousness because sometimes you wanted your brother to comfort you. "Hopefully people won't get sick of the Dutch national anthem." You grinned at Max who laughed loudly.

You asked Max about his day and he told you about how confident he was with this years car, excited to see what he can get out of it. He carried on talking as you got out of your team uniform and into some comfy clothes when he quietened down.

"When were you going to tell me?" Max asked when you exited the bathroom. "About what the interviewer said?"

"It's fine Max." You said, avoiding his gaze on you by putting your clothes away. You were afraid if you looked at him the dam would break.

"It's not fine, Y/N." He huffed, his voice raising out of anger. It wasn't aimed at you though, Max would never raise his voice at you. "It was so unprofessional. Not to mention the commentators today couldn't even be bothered to learn your name. I'm going to do something about it."

Max's reaction reminded you of Logan's. You didn't think anyone would care this much. Especially someone who you never really had a conversation with before. You knew it was pointless to ask Max to leave it alone so you didn't bother. "Just please don't do anything stupid."

"When have I ever done that?" Max asked and you laughed. You would run out of fingers if you counted all the times Max did something stupid.

It was getting late and you and Max said your goodbyes, leaving you alone once again with your thoughts. Instead of the video on repeat in your head it was Logan's words. You reached over for your phone and unlocked it, going straight to instagram to find Logan's profile. You hit follow before going to his dms.

Y/N:

Thank you again for tonight.

His response was quick making your stomach flutter.

Logan:

You don't need to keep thanking me Y/N

Y/N:

I know

I enjoyed talking to you tonight

So thank you for your company 😊

Logan:

I enjoyed talking to you too 😊

I hope we can do it again some time

You were sure you were grinning like an idiot but you didn't care. You had fallen for the American and hard.

Y/N:

I would love to ☺️

Good luck for tomorrow Logan 💙

Logan:

Good luck Y/N 😊

#logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #f1 imagine #f1

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myth1cs · 8 months ago

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Locked in (Oh Haewon x M!Reader)

Yes Haewon spread that Charisma Uniqueness Nerve and Talent (Smut! .... Sorry!) Word Count: 5,588

"Fuck you Y/N, I'll do whatever I want!"

"Haewon please get off the table. You're getting it dirty with your shoes!"

You were getting tired of Haewon. She always purposely went out of her way to piss you off. This time was no different, yesterday you made a big deal about her spilling her drinks all over the table and not cleaning it. Today she decided to get revenge by making the table dirty with her shoes.

You aren't much of a clean freak but the way Haewon kept being so unhygienic was driving you crazy.

"And what if I don't get off the table Y/N what are you going to do about it?" You aren't much of a confrontational person and Haewon knows it. You try to assert authority but she never felt intimidated by you, which made her more comfortable challenging you.

You sighed as you knew you couldn't do anything to get her off the table. The only thing you could do was wait for her to get bored and get off so you could start cleaning the table.

Suddenly you heard someone enter your dorm and looked behind you to see Kim Dahyun.

"Are you guys arguing again?!" Dahyun asked as if she was a mom who was disappointed that her kids weren't getting along.

"It's Y/N's fault!" Haewon said when she saw that it was Dahyun. Something you noticed about Haewon is that she treats everyone nicely. Well everyone except you for a reason that you don't know.

"Both of you guys need to learn to get along. Why do you guys even argue so much?"

"It's all Y/N's fault!"

"Oh really Haewon? Last time I checked you were the one being such a fucking bitch!"

"Enough both of you!"

Dahyun grabbed both of you by an arm and dragged you both into a room.

"I was gonna take you both out to the friend groups hangout but instead you guys can talk out your differences. By the time I get back you both better have made up." Dahyun left and closed the door.

"Wait!" Haewon yelled, she tried to open the door but it was locked. "Dahyun quit playing don't leave me in here trapped with this loser." Haewon started banging on the door but it was useless Dahyun already left.

"Ugh! I hate you Y/N."

"Me? This is your fault Haewon!"

"Shut the fuck up Y/N!"

Haewon went up to you and punched you in the face. It hurt you, it didn't even feel like she put much power into that punch yet it still felt painful.

Both you and Haewon started fighting each other. Leaving bruises on each other and tiring yourselves out at a result. Eventually you both got tired and laid on the bed.

"Fuck you Y/N lay on the floor."

"Why don't you do it Haewon?"

"Because it's gross, now get off the bed!"

"Make me."

Haewon sighed, she didn't have the energy to push you off. You both laid there on the bed for an hour not talking to each other. Neither of you had anything to entertain yourselves with and it was driving you both crazy.

You eventually turned over to Haewon

"Hey can we talk."

Haewon turned over and you guys made eye contact for the first time since you guys laid down on the bed.

"Well not like I have anything else to do."

"Why do you always bully me?"

"Y/N ... I just like seeing your reaction. Seeing you upset is something that-"

While Haewon was talking you started to pay more attention to her body. You never realized how ... good she looked. I mean she was totally your type. How come you never noticed?

You couldn't stop yourself from looking at her lips. They looked so delicious you just knew those soft lips would feel amazing.

"Hey! Hey! Y/N!'

You suddenly came out of your thoughts and realized you've been staring at her for too long.

"Do my lips look that good to you Y/N?"

You blushed and nodded your head. I mean she already caught you no point in lying to her at this point.

Haewon smiled and started scanning your body.

"You know Y/N you're not too bad yourself."

"Really Haewon?"

Haewon pulled you into a hug, hugging you tightly as if you would disappear if she let go.

You hugged her back taking her sweet smell in.

"Y/N I'm sorry for everything. I hope you can forgive me."

You brushed her hair and kissed her on the cheek which made her gasp. She didn't expect you to take such a sudden move on her.

"Haewon I love you. I could never stay mad at you."

"I love you to Y/N"

You both hugged each other tightly and drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly you and Haewon were woken up by the sound of the door opening. Dahyun entered the room.

"When I told you guys to make up I didn't expect this. So are you guys dating now?"

"Wh-were not dating!" Haewon quickly responded in defense.

"Yeah sure, I've never seen you as happy as you were just now Haewon. You were hugging Y/N as if your life depended on it."

Haewon sighed "Fine you caught us, we're dating now."

You were shocked when Haewon said that. You realized you two were now official, and honestly you couldn't be happier.

Haewon reached out for your hand to help you get up. You were still a bit hazy from just waking up but you managed to grab Haewon's hand, and she helped you sit up on the bed.

Dahyun squealed "I'm so happy for you guys!"

You clung to Haewon's arm as if she was going to leave you. You were in love with her. The same girl that one day ago you wanted nothing to do with was the same girl that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

"So when's the first date?"

"Aren't you rushing things Dahyun? Besides little Y/N here is still sleepy, he probably wants to catch up on his sleep."

"Haewon you're only 1 month older than me!" you responded in a groggy voice.

Dahyun giggled "Alright well I'll leave you two love birds to it. Don't do anything dangerous without the proper protection."

Dahyun left you both in the room alone. You laid your head on Haewon's shoulder.

"Haewon can we go back to sleep."

Haewon looked at you and gave you a warm smile.

"Of course we can."

1 week later

You and Haewon were going out on a first date. As you held her hand you couldn't stop yourself from feeling happy. Your heart kept beating fast and it felt like the only thing in the world that mattered was you two.

You and Haewon arrived at the ice cream shop and went inside. There were a handful of people inside but not too many people that it felt cramped. You both went up to the counter and ordered your favorite ice cream flavors.

You both decided to eat outside. You felt the wind blowing on your skin as you ate. It was relaxing, you felt at ease with Haewon at your side. Back then even being in the same room with Haewon would put you on edge but now she was a source of comfort for you.

"Y/N you have something on your face."

Haewon acted like she was wiping something off your face but she really just wanted an excuse to rub your cheeks.

"Did you just make that up?"

Haewon giggled "You caught me Y/N."

Ever since the day Dahyun locked you both into a room you've both been inseparable. You've both been sleeping, showering, and hanging out together. Every morning you felt blessed being able to see Haewon's face first thing in the morning.

When you finished your ice cream you clung to Haewon again.

"Y/N you're so clingy!" Haewon said when she felt you cling onto her.

I mean ... you were, but could anyone blame you? I mean when someone like Oh Haewon is your girlfriend you just have to show her love every moment you get.

"Hey Y/N can I ask you something?"

"Anything Haewon."

"Okay ... just know I don't want to force you into anything if you don't want to do what I'm about to say then that's completely fine and I respect your decision."

That night you locked the door to your room and looked at Haewon a little nervous.

"Y/N are you okay?"

"It's just ... I don't feel good about myself. I don't want you to see me naked."

Haewon hugged you and kissed your cheek.

"Y/N I love you the way you are. But if you don't want to go through with this then that's okay."

Hearing Haewon say those words gave you confidence and you decided to go through with it.

"Can you strip first Haewon?"

Haewon nodded and began to take her clothes off. You were mesmerized, you couldn't believe that she had such a perfect body. But it only made you that much more insecure knowing it was your turn next.

Haewon went up to you and grabbed the hem of your shirt.

"Do you want me to take it off for you?"

"No! Please let me take my time Haewon."

Haewon understood. She backed away and watched you as you slowly mustered up the courage to start taking your clothes off.

When you finally took all your clothes off you felt horrible. What business did you have trying to have sex with Haewon? You should have stayed in your clothes. What were you thinking by taking off your clothes? You should just put your clothes back on and try to-

"Y/N your perfect."

You got pulled out of your thoughts when you heard those words come out of her mouth. You felt relieved and happy when Haewon called you perfect. You started blushing and feeling giddy.

"Oh ~ Y/N you like it when I praise you?"

You were a little bit surprised when Haewon said that. You never thought that you had a praising kink but when you thought about it you always felt butterflies when Haewon praised you.

"Well I guess I do." You responded.

Haewon went up and softly kissed your lips. They felt like heaven, you kissed her soft lips back wanting to be able to kiss her forever.

Haewon started mumbling while kissing you "Y/N you're doing so well." It turned you on. Your cock started rising slowly.

You started to deepen the kiss. You both were caught in the moment and you both started to kiss each other more rough. You slid your tongue in her mouth and your tongues started fighting for control.

Neither of you won as both your tongues got tired and you both eventually pulled away.

"Y/N you did great." You felt yourself getting flustered and your cock was getting hard when you heard Haewon say those words.

Haewon looked at your cock and smiled. "Do you want me to take care of you?" You nodded and she got down on her knees.

Haewon was on her knees for a few moments before she spoke up. "Y/N I'm new to this. Is there anything in specific I should be doing?"

You had to ponder for a moment. This was your first time having sex to so you weren't sure if there was something she should be doing or if she should just do what she thinks is right.

"How about you try just touching it?"

Haewon nodded and started to poke your cock. She wasn't sure if there was a specific way she should touch your cock so she just went with what she thought was a safe option by poking it.

"Ngh~"

"Y/N are you okay? Am I doing it wrong?"

"No Haewon your doing just fine."

Haewon started to rub your cock with one finger to see if she could get a reaction out of you. She saw that you slightly reacted but it wasn't anything significant.

"Y/N is there something else I should be doing?"

"Try licking it."

Haewon got her tongue out and started to wonder where she should lick your cock. Should she start with the head? Or maybe the base of your cock. Or would somewhere in the middle be better?

Haewon decided to start in the middle just in case. When you felt her tongue you jerked. Her tongue on your sensitive areas felt great and you felt your legs going weak from it.

You grabbed onto Haewon's head grasping it desperately so you wouldn't fall. Haewon started licking your cock at different speeds. She didn't know which speed was optimal so she did all of them. Randomly going from a slow speed to a slightly faster speed only to drastically increase her pace the next second.

Even with all of the stimulation you felt you didn't feel any closer to release. "H-Haewon I hate to bother you but I'm not any closer to cumming."

Haewon felt horrible when you said that. Was she really that bad? She was regretting asking to have sex she shouldn't have ever tried. She got up and sat next to you.

"I'm sorry Y/N I really wanted this night to mean something special to us." You could tell Haewon wanted to cry for messing up an important moment in your relationship.

"Haewon don't cry." You embraced her patting her back. "Let's try again Haewon"

"But Y/N the moment is ruined now."

"As long as it's with you every moment is precious to me."

That made Haewon feel better. She got back up but this time she was going to do what she thought was right.

"Y/N lay down."

You followed her instructions without hesitation. Haewon got on top of you and started to align her pussy to your cock.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Let's hope so." Haewon said as she quickly took your whole cock in her pussy. She knew it was gonna hurt so she decided to just try to take the whole thing in one go.

"Ow fuck- It hurts."

"Haewon you should get off. I don't want you to be hurt."

"Trust me Y/N I can handle it."

After some heavy breathing she managed to calm herself down and started to bounce on your cock. Her pussy gripped your cock so good you thought the blood flow to your cock stopped.

You both were sweating. It was the first time for both of you so it felt like an extremely intense activity.

"Y/N I feel like something is building up in me."

"It's fine Haewon just relax yourself and let it happen."

Haewon proceeded to cum all over your dick. So much came out that some got on the bed sheets.

She was exhausted. After having an intense orgasm she was ready to hit the hay but she still wanted you to experience pleasure.

"Y/N sit up and let me try to suck your dick again."

"Haewon that's the least of my worries. My time can come another time right now let's just get some rest."

She nodded and fell asleep on top of you.

A few years later

You and Haewon had just finished moving all of your stuff into your new house. After college you and Haewon decided to live together and move into a home together. The rest of your friend group lived separately but you all didn't live far from each other so you guys would see each other every now and then.

"Let's start unpacking Y/N."

You started to help Haewon unpack and as you went through all your things you couldn't help but to think about the past. Honestly so many things fell in place for you and Haewon to even be together. You had to had picked the same college, you guys were randomly assigned roommates, and it just so happened you shared a friend that decided to lock you both in a room. You were grateful for Dahyun as if she had never locked you in that room with Haewon. Well who knows how your life would've turned out.

"Reminiscing about the past Y/N?"

"Yeah I was just thinking about us and how we even came to be you know?"

"I remember, I remember when we first did it. We were so inexperienced."

"Don't remind me Haewon! I prefer to think that night never happened."

You and Haewon started to talk about the past and talk about old memories. Suddenly you heard the doorbell ring.

You got up and went to open the door. When you opened the door and saw one of your friends from your friend group Lily Morrow.

"Y/N it's so nice to see you!"

"It's nice to see you to Lily."

"Where's Haewon?"

"She's unpacking in the living room."

"Want to help me scare her?"

You walked back into the room and went back to help Haewon with the unpacking.

"Who was at the door Y/N?"

"It was just a sales person."

"Ugh I hate sales people. Like why are they bothering us on our own property."

While Haewon was complaining Lily suddenly came up behind her.

"Surprise!"

"Yah!"

"L-Lily! Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry Haewon I couldn't resist."

"Did you plan this with her Y/N?"

"Perhaps."

"You're gonna pay for that."

You knew exactly what Haewon meant.

"Anyways Lily why did you even come over."

"I was in the area and wanted to pay you guys a visit. Well since I'm here I might as well help you guys unpack."

After a few hours you all managed to unpacked all of your things and put them in there place. Lily was about to leave but suddenly it started raining.

"Just my luck. It rains just when I'm about to leave."

"You can stay with us Lily for the night." You offered.

"Really? I don't want to bother you two."

"It's fine you can have the bedroom here on the first floor."

"Thank you."

Lily got up and left for the bedroom. Once Haewon heard the sound of the door close she looked at you and gave you a smirk you were all too familiar with.

"Haewon please don't."

She started to rub your clothed cock and you tried your best to keep your moans in.

"I don't know Y/N. I think you should learn your place."

You gulped knowing what was going to happen next.

"Follow me."

You obeyed Haewon and followed her to the bedroom on the second floor. On the way Haewon grabbed an unopened box. Once you two entered the room Haewon locked the door.

Haewon started to open the box. You gulped wondering what she would pull out. She pulled out handcuffs.

"H-Haewon?"

It was no use she was already lost. Haewon put your hands behind your back and put them in the handcuffs. You didn't resist and let Haewon do what she wanted.

Haewon kissed your lips for a few moments before pulling away.

"Safe word?"

"Lock"

Haewon smiled and went back to the box. She pulled out a whip and went back to you.

"You'll listen to me from now on."

"Yes Haewon." It would only make it worse if you resisted so it was easier for both of you if you just listened to her.

"Now don't move or else I'm going to punish you." Haewon proceeded to pull down your pants and saw your hard cock.

"Horney already Y/N?" You nodded. You couldn't lie you enjoyed seeing Haewon take charge like this.

Haewon started to slowly take your cock. Her tongue glided through your whole length. Swirling your tip and gently sucking. Your legs were shaking you. Wanted to thrust in her mouth but knew better.

You started moaning but you quickly shut your mouth and tried to suppress them. When you did this Haewon used the whip to hit you.

"Did I tell you to suppress your moans?"

"But Lily-"

Haewon whipped you again "I don't give a fuck that she's downstairs. You listen to me got it? Now you let me hear your moans Y/N."

You nodded and Haewon went back to taking care of your cock. You moaned loudly knowing full well that there was a good chance Lily could hear you.

"Mhm~ Yes Y/N let Lily know that you're submissive for me."

Haewon went back to whipping you. It hurt you horribly but something about it turned you on. Haewon started to tighten the handcuffs on your hands to add to your pain.

"Fuck"

There was too much to focus on. The pain you felt was horrible but at the same time Haewon gave you the best pleasure you had ever felt. Your cock started twitching in her mouth and she pulled out.

"Who knows Y/N maybe I'll leave you like this as punishment for earlier."

"Please~"

Haewon pushed you onto the bed and got on top of you. She started to strip her clothes and you couldn't help but stare.

"You're really excited to see me naked huh?"

You blushed and nodded.

Haewon smirked and deliberately started going slower.

"Please don't tease me Haewon."

Haewon smacked your face.

"Since when do you order me around?"

"I don't.."

"Don't speak up unless I say so."

Haewon went back to undressing and after what felt like hours she finally took off all her clothes off.

Haewon sat on top of you and you started to struggle to breathe.

"If you want to be able to breathe properly eat me out."

You started eating Haewon out as fast as possible. You slurped down every bit of juice from her pussy and ran your tongue all over it. Haewon was lost in her own world. Her legs were shaking and she held onto your head for support.

As you felt yourself suffocating Haewon squirted all over you and got off you. You gasped for air and tried to regain composure.

Haewon however didn't have any interest in letting you rest.

"Get up Y/N and let me get those handcuffs off you."

With low energy you sat yourself up and Haewon grabbed the key and freed you from the handcuffs. She also took this chance to take off your shirt.

Haewon got up and went back to the box and reached for something else. She ended up pulling out a blindfold and some ropes.

You gulped. It was far from your favorite activity but you wanted to make Haewon happy.

Haewon tied up your arms and legs. She put the blindfold on you before she got on your dick and started riding you.

She whipped you repeatedly. It stung you horribly but for the sake of Haewon's pleasure you didn't want to use your safe word.

"Fuck Y/N I'm gonna cum!"

Haewon was sadistic which you were fine with but you felt the pain becoming more unbearable overriding your enjoyment. You tried holding out until Haewon came.

But you reached your breaking point. Your body was bruised badly. If Haewon whipped you one more time you felt like you would break.

"Lock! Lock! Haewon please stop!" You yelled in pain unable to take much more of Haewon's sadistic tendencies.

Haewon was snapped out of her trance and quickly got off you. She untied the ropes and took off your blindfold.

"Y/N are you okay?! I'm sorry I got ahead of myself." Haewon was sad when she saw a few tears on you.

"I-I'm fine Haewon."

"No you're not! Come on Y/N let me fix you a hot bath."

Haewon helped you get into the bathroom into the bathtub. She started the warm water to help you relax.

"Thank you Haewon."

"Don't mention it Y/N. I should be sorry to you. I got carried away."

Haewon got in the bath with you and embraced you lovingly. She kissed you in the spot where she smacked you earlier.

"I love you Y/N please don't ever hold off from using your safe word."

"I promise I won't next time Haewon."

You both sat in silence until Haewon remembered something.

"Y/N you did great back there."

To say you were a bit surprised would be an understatement. But it also warmed your heart that Haewon still remembered when you told her you had a bit of a praising kink all those years ago.

"Y/N you are perfect I love you so much."

You felt yourself getting worked up from Haewon's compliments and started to feel your cock rising.

"Want me to make you cum?"

You nodded

Haewon and you got out of the bath. She got to her knees and started to give your cock all the attention she could. You started thrusting in and out of her mouth. Her tight throat felt amazing and you felt closer to release.

You increased your thrusts and Haewon started to deep throat your cock. You ended up spreading your cum all over Haewon's mouth and she swallowed every last drop.

"Your cum is amazing thank you Y/N."

You both dried yourselves before going to sleep together naked.

The next day you were both woken up by Lily's yelling downstairs.

"Haewon Y/N! I made pancakes!"

You both got dressed and went downstairs. You saw the pancakes Lily made and went to eat them.

"Thank you so much Lily. You shouldn't have." You said before eating her pancakes.

"Well it's the least I could do for you guys. Besides I'm sure you guys need the energy after last night."

You and Haewon blushed.

"You heard us?" Haewon said surprised

Lily chuckled "Of course I did. My room was directly under yours. I didn't know you were sadistic like that Haewon."

Haewon couldn't make eye contact with Lily and ate her pancakes with her head down.

One year later

You were nervous.

Today was the day you would propose to Haewon. You ran the scenario multiple times throughout your head.

Step 1: Go to the outdoor venue you rented out for the day and set up the place with Lily.

Step 2: Dahyun picks up Haewon to take her to a "Fancy restaurant"

Step 3: Dahyun tells Haewon that she needs to "Pick up her friend" as an excuse so she can head to the venue.

Step 4: If everything goes well you and Lily should be done by the time Haewon and Dahyun get their and you propose to Haewon.

It should be simple enough.

When you arrive at the venue you notice Lily is not there. Panicking you call her.

"Where are you?!"

"My car broke down!"

You started panicking. Lily was in charge of bringing all the decorations. The venue only had some basic decorations but you wanted to go all out as this would be an important moment in your life. Should you try to pick Lily up? No she lives too far away, you probably won't make it back in time.

Should you tell Dahyun to try to stall for more time? But Haewon would be suspicious if after Dahyun gets a call she suddenly starts stalling.

You checked the time and saw you only had 20 minutes before Dahyun and Haewon would get to the venue.

You were about to have a break down. How could everything go bad on such an important day?

15 minutes passed. Only five more minutes until Haewon and Dahyun arrived. You were contemplating whether you should try to propose another day or if you should just try to make do with what you already have.

Suddenly you heard people scream your name.

"Y/N!!!!"

Looking in the direction of where the sounds were coming from you saw Lily and Bae running towards you.

"Lily and Bae? What are you guys doing here?"

Lily was out of breath "I called Bae to pick me up. We were speeding our way here. And then we ran the rest of the way since the closest parking lot was far."

Bae suddenly interrupted Lily "Guys we're running out of time we need to decorate now!"

All of you started setting up the venue. You had to cut some corners as you didn't have time on your side anymore.

You got a text from Dahyun telling you that she arrived. Lily and Bae quickly went to hide and you tried to get yourself ready as you went to hide.

"Dahyun why is your friend here anyways."

"They had to help out someone set up for an event."

"I don't see them."

"Hold on I need to use the restroom Haewon. Try looking around for them."

Once Dahyun left the area you came out from hiding.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

"Haewon I need to tell you something."

"What do you need to tell me?"

"I-I don't think our relationship will work out if we stay like this."

Haewon was shocked. She grabbed your hands while looking as if she was about to cry.

"What do you mean Y/N."

"Ever since we graduated from college I truly loved you. I love everything we've done together and honestly I've made memories I will never forget with you. But we can't keep going ... at least not like this."

Tears fell down Haewon's eyes. She was crushed fearing your next words.

"Y/N please don't leave me! I promise I can fix everything just name it."

"Haewon I can't let you be my girlfriend ... I want you to be my wife."

You got down on your knees pulling out the ring you bought.

"Will you be mine Haewon?"

Haewon looked at you. You couldn't make out her facial expressions. You held your breath waiting for her answer.

"Y/N fuck you! Don't ever scare me like that again! Of course I'll be your wife Y/N."

Haewon took the ring and put it on. You breathed a huge sigh of relief and pulled her into a hug. Lily, Bae, and Dahyun came up to you guys and congratulated you.

"Come on Haewon let's go eat." You said while holding your fiance's hand.

Wedding Day

You were waiting for Haewon to walk down the aisle. You were ready to spend the rest of your life with Haewon. Sharing all of your worst and best moments and being there for each other even in illness you were ready to tackle anything as long as you had Haewon by your side.

And then you saw her. She was perfect, you couldn't take your eyes off Haewon. It was as if time slowed down.

Everything was going perfectly. You two exchanged vows and then the magic words were said.

"You may now kiss the bride."

You pulled Haewon in for a deep kiss. The only thing that mattered in that moment was you and her.

"Y/N I'm ready to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Me to Haewon."

That night you partied hard. Hanging out with the people who meant the most to you.

Haewon threw the bouquet and Bae ended up being the one to catch it. Everyone cheered for her and you jokingly asked her.

"Are you finally going to ask out Sullyoon?"

Bae blushed and lightly pushed you.

"Yah not so loud Y/N."

Eventually the party came to a close and everyone went home. When you got home with Haewon you carried her to bed.

You laid her down gently and kissed her forehead. Haewon was getting sleepy so you started to change her into her pajamas. Once you got Haewon changed you started to take off your clothes so you could change but suddenly you heard Haewon get up.

"How about I give you a special present Y/N as a celebration to us?"

Knowing where this was going you nodded your head and took off your remaining clothes. Haewon got on her knees and started to pump your cock.

"Haewon this is the best thing I could ask for."

She simply smiled and started to suck your tip. Haewon swirled her tongue on your tip covering it in her saliva.

Haewon bobbed her head. Her tongue sliding through your cock letting every inch feel it. Your cock started twitching and you were close to release.

You started to thrust in her mouth. You spread your cum in her mouth. So much cum came out it was leaking out of her mouth.

Haewon's face was stained with cum. And both of you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Now it's my turn to give you a special gift Haewon."

You picked up Haewon and laid her on the bed. You took of her pajamas and started to lick her pussy and rub her clit.

Haewon moaned loving the feeling you gave her. You licked her pussy and enjoyed how her fluids tasted. You truly never could have enough. You ate Haewon out.

Shoving your tongue deep into her pussy Haewon screamed and squirted all over you. You drank every last drop.

You both laid naked next to each other in bed and shared another kiss.

"I love you Haewon."

"I love you to Y/N"

You both drifted to sleep holding each other, ready to spend the rest of your lives together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally finished this for all the people requesting longer smuts.

I wanted to make this longer but I felt like people would loose interest if I made it too long.

Anyways if you actually sat through all of this thank you.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #haewon #haewon nmixx #nmixx #nmixx smut #bae jinsol #sullyoon #lily nmixx #dahyun #smut

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a-lurking-fae · 6 months ago

Text

Thinking about the reader being Focalors/Furina's grandchild. What if they adopted a child, and let's say that the kid could have been transported between worlds, they end up in Gotham, taken in by Martha and Thomas Wayne.

Now, after a couple of years, readers mom ends up with Bruce. He takes in Dick, then Jason, after your mom gets pregnant, and during childbirth, she dies. Instead of Bruce neglecting the reader because "They were the reason why my love is dead." type of neglect (っ- ‸ - ""), which is always pretty stupid if you ask me,

He can't look at the reader because you look like a mix of both the two women he has truly loved in his life. His mother, the one who sang him bedtime songs, the one who brought him to his love, your mother. The one who accepted him for his faults, the one who was there during rough times, the one who gave him the greatest gift of all time— you.

But instead of treasuring the precious diamond he was given, Bruce ends up throwing you away. A shame, really, after all, how can he look at you without being reminded of them? How can he look into your eyes, which took the shape of his mother, and held those (e/c) eyes that used to look at him with so much love?

Dick would also have a hard time acknowledging you. After all, you were sort of the reason why his mother had died (reader's mom), but you were her child too. You can't experience what he and Jason got from her, bedtime stories and all.

But at the same time, he can't help but look a little closer, enamoured by the same eyes that saw him, acknowledged him, loved him. He really doesn't know what to do, so he avoids you when he has the chance.

Now, Jason— he's a good child before he died. He's definitely your best friend before he died. How can he not love you? The child of his parents, how could he possibly turn away from you? So imagine his surprise and disappointment when both Bruce and Dick actively ignore you.

Oh, he is angry. How dare they! He argues with them during meal times, but they shut him down! Let's time skip a few years now, Jason is dead, then he turns up alive, apparently?

You try to approach him, hoping he was still that big brother you once knew, even though he looks a bit scary and big right now! He avoids you like the plague, you don't recognise your big brother anymore...

When Tim was taken in by Bruce, you hoped that you'd form a bond with your new brother, and he's very smart too! You hope he can help you with homework, but he says that you're not really worth his time. That stung a bit!

Then Cassandra, Barbara, and Stephanie are in the picture. You still had a bit of hope that you'd bond with your sisters! They might be different from your brothers! Ah— it's the same thing over again.

Finally, Damian, he's your younger brother. Clinging on to your last hope, you approach him, hoping— but to no one's surprise, he rejects you. He hates you so much. He hates that you were so weak, how, although he is strong, forced to cater to his mother and grandfather's wishes, robbed of the childhood he dreamed of, you ended up with a peaceful childhood, the one thing he always wanted. (He didn't know you were robbed, too.)

It's honestly your last straw, so after packing your bags, you head to your mother's home— Fontaine, and it's a hell lot more nicer than Gotham. The fresh breeze of the sea, cute adorable sea creatures, and a whole lot more things you could explore!

Your grandfather, Neuvillette, adored you, both of your grandmothers who loved you so much, the friends you made in Fontaine, even adventures you went off to. It's no surprise that you didn't want to go back. Yeah, Alfred would miss you a lot— but you're sure he'd be happy to know that you're in a better place, safe from the crime-filled-gotham!

Now, enjoy the last days in Teyvat because they want you back. How could they not? Bruce and Dick never hated you— no. They'd kill themselves before that. It's just that it hurt too much to see you! But, they've realised their mistakes now, they'll make it up to you, don't worry! Bruce will throw you lavish parties anytime you want! He has deep pockets, after all, and that old room of yours? Your new room will be next to him, to make sure you're safe.

Dick will be there for you. Even though he wasn't there before, he'll be next to you every step of the way this time and make no mistakes. He won't let you out of his sight, not anymore. You can count on the best big brother in Gotham to make sure you'll be safe. With a little help from Tim, who'll place trackers on you when you get home. It's for safety precautions, you'll understand.

Jason blew when he realised you've been missing for weeks— and none of them have noticed! He was the best big brother to you, right? Won't you come back home to him? He knows you, and both of you could bond by the things you guys used to love, right? You probably still like the colour (f/c) you don't anymore. He'll cook your favourite food with you, and all you have to do right now is to come back home.

Casandra, although a perceptive person, she never realised the small figure that trailed behind her grew up, not to be seen in weeks. She knew something was missing. The small figure that she'd see in the kitchen during ungodly hours, who'd leave her little notes of praise time-to-time, was not there anymore.

Every time Barbara and Tim had migraines, you'd be there, handing a tray with two cups and medication. They wondered where those always came from, and then it suddenly stopped. To think it was their sweet baby sibling all along! Those little hints that you were there weren't really noticed, but they appreciated you and the small actions you did for them. They want to repay the favour, don't you wanna play games with Tim? Or get ice cream with big sis Babs?

Damian will demand attention from you. How dare you give your love to those good for nothing children of lower breeding, he's your blood brother! Sure, he said he hates you— but he really didn't mean it! He didn't know you were robbed of the same childhood as him. And without his older sibling, how can you expect a complete family? You don't have to worry about being weak. He'll protect you. He's strong enough for both of you.

Neuvillette is having trouble closing the multiple portals they tried to create. With the help of the Justice league, of course. Don't worry they'll get you back sooner or later.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ

This was already posted!<33

#batfam #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere tim drake #yandere dick grayson #yandere stephanie brown #yandere cassandra cain #yandere barbara gordon #yandere damian wayne #batfam x you #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x neglected reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #neuvillette #focalors #furina #𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘 ๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒𝕬 𝕱𝖆𝖊'𝖘 𝖂𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ

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vroomvro0mferrari · 1 year ago

Text

LN4 | Dutch Courage

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: Alcohol (over)consumption, curse words

Masterlist

The first time Lando really came in contact with the Dutch culture was during his first Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the race, the enthusiasm of the people, and the taste of stroopwafels immediately made him like the Netherlands. When Max introduced him to more Dutch traditions and told him about the extreme celebrations of the King’s birthday, he couldn’t believe it. His experiences with the Queen’s birthday were completely different, much more sophisticated and ceremonial than the Dutch celebrations. You could say he was gobsmacked when he saw the videos; people dressed all in orange, filling the streets and canals, drunkenly partying like it was a festival. When Max extended an invitation to join him next April, Lando accepted straight away, eager to experience the unique tradition.

And so, next April 27th, Lando found himself in Amsterdam. He was passing tons of people stalling out their stuff on blankets, sitting on folding chairs by their improvised shops. They were all dressed in orange, of course. Lando, himself, had also adhered to the dress code. Sporting his orange hoodie, he’s ready to party all day long.

Lando made his way through the city, Google maps opened on his phone as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam. Luckily, Max’s apartment building was easy to find. Lando rang the doorbell, grinning when he spotted his Dutch friend. Lando could already hear the noise coming from the apartment while he greeted Max, the sound of music and singing passing through the walls.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked.

“Nothing much. What about you?” Max responded while welcoming Lando into his second home, leading him into the hallway.

Lando was about to answer his question, but the unexpected sight in the living room disrupted his train of thought. A confused frown etched itself onto his face, and he asked, “Why are there so many girls in your house? Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

Max laughed at the question, “Oh yeah, they're my sister’s friends,” he responded nonchalantly as if they weren’t appropriating his apartment.

“You sister’s friends? Why are they taking over your place?”

“They’re getting ready to go out in a bit. Since I live closer to the centre than Y/N, they’re leaving from here. I told them to stay the night too, I don’t want Y/N and her friends to travel home in the middle of the night when they’re all drunk.”

Lando nodded as he observed the herd of girls getting ready. It was a mess – even compared to how his sisters got ready. They were doing lots of things at the same time: passing the phone around to pick music, singing along to whatever Dutch song was playing, taking pictures, talking, doing their makeup, fixing their hair, picking out accessories and putting flags on their faces; it was complete chaos, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get you some water, mate,” Max said before walking to the kitchen, leaving Lando alone with the women.

It took a while for Y/N to spot Lando, but when she did, she came over right away. “Lando! How are you? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” She said excitedly as she pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m good. It’s your fault we haven’t seen each other in so long, you never come to races anymore,”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Life’s been busy. So, I hear today’s your first King’s Day, are you excited?”

Lando chuckled, “Ah, yes it is. Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been told it’s quite the experience!”

“It certainly is. I would’ve expected you to wear more orange though, isn’t it your team’s colour?” She questioned him teasingly.

“Is my hoodie not enough?” He asked, looking down at his outfit.

“Oh Lando, you know it’s not! Didn’t Max show you the videos? Come, I’ll put some flags on your face,” she said as she pulled him into the group of girls.

They all greeted him enthusiastically as Y/N searched through the pile of orange and red-white-and-blue-coloured accessories, looking for something that would fit Lando. She pulled out a ribbon of the Dutch flag and grinned widely. Lando stood still as Y/N wrapped the ribbon around his head like a headband and tied it with a bow. “Very coquette, I’m sure your lady fans will love it,” she murmured and grabbed his jaw to turn his face to the side. A look of focus overtook her features as she gently applied the face paint to Lando’s cheeks.

Lando was caught off guard at the situation he found himself in. He had barely stepped foot in the apartment and he was already being pulled in all kinds of directions as the whirlwind of women fussed over him, dressing him up for their sacred holiday. He caught Max’s eyes over Y/N’s shoulder, silently pleading for rescue, but Max merely laughed at the situation in which Lando had trapped himself, not offering any assistance. Instead, he stood by and watched with amusement as Y/N picked out things for Lando to wear and offered him an orange poncho for the rain that would probably come later today. Lando had no choice but to go along with it, accepting everything as it came. It was only a small effort for him, and it seemed to make her happy.

Y/N only let Lando go once she was satisfied with his outfit. He quickly rushed to Max, who offered him a glass of water with a big grin on his face, “She got you, eh?”

“Apparently, my orange hoodie was not enough,” he responded.

Max pat him on the back, “Don’t worry, I was a victim earlier,” he replied, pointing to his cheeks covered with face paint.

Not much later, the girls finally settled down. They were nearly ready to leave, the only thing they needed before heading off was a decent meal. If they were going to get wasted, they should at least have a good base. Y/N and her friends had organised a feast that could feed everyone and then some, with food left to spare. After the generous lunch was consumed, the women had some drinks to get a headstart before they packed their purses, making sure they had all the essentials covered. They divided the tiny bottles of alcohol they had bought in advance, and Lando watched in shock and disbelief as every girl shoved at least two tiny bottles down their bra. Meanwhile, Max seemed entirely unimpressed – as neutral as one could be.

Y/N and her friends had gotten tickets to Kingsland and the alcohol there was way too expensive to get drunk. If they needed to sneak in some alcohol to get properly pissed, that was a problem easily solved. The girls said goodbye and headed out the door, leaving silence in their wake.

The men didn’t leave that much later and headed over to the boat where they would meet Martijn, aka, Martin Garrix, with whom Max and Lando were both good friends. They would spend their time partying on the boat, getting just as drunk as Y/N and her friends before joining Martijn for his performance at Kingsland, where they’d meet up with the girls.

It was hours, and a shit ton of drinks, later when Max called Y/N to let her know they arrived at the festival grounds. In the meantime, a lot had happened: Y/N’s group of friends had gained at least three more people, Lando had cut his nose open on a glass bottle, and Max, somehow, managed to fall off the boat.

Y/N was dancing with her group of friends, going crazy for the songs the DJ was playing when she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately, surprised at the presence of a new person and ready to defend herself against whoever decided to touch her. That is, until she noticed the person behind her was Lando. As soon as she recognised the man, she, very drunkenly, jumped onto him. Y/N claimed she hadn’t seen him in so long as she put her entire body weight on the man who, unsuspecting of the move and unstable from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, nearly fell over. Y/N giggled innocently at the interaction, holding Lando’s arms tightly to prevent their fall. She looked up at his face while she did so, noticing the bandage on his nose.

“What did you do?” She slurred, frowning concernedly while running a hand along his face. That wasn’t a good choice; she lost her balance as soon as her hand left Lando’s arm. Lando, his own state not much better, grabbed her waist, trying to stop her wobbling.

“Got hit in the face with a broken beer bottle,” he replied with a grin and Y/N giggled at the image forming in her mind.

“That’s so stupid. Did it hurt?” she asked.

Lando laughed loudly, “No, I’m too drunk to feel anything.”

Even though the comment wasn't that funny, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along, nearly toppling over.

The group, now including Max and Lando, stood in the crowd, dancing to the music playing as it became busier in anticipation of Martin Garrix’s performance. The field they were standing in became more crowded by the second, pressing them closer to each other. There was barely any space left to move, packed like sardines in a can. When there were people who tried to pass, Y/N’s back was pressed tightly against Lando. So tightly that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his breath hitting her neck; so tightly that it made Max send Lando a warning glare. But it didn’t matter when everyone was drunk and there were too many people between them for Max to do anything other than stare angrily.

When Martijn began his set everyone cheered and moved along to the music. In Y/N’s current position, she was nearly grinding against Lando, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding her close with one hand while the other held his drink in the air. Nevertheless, she turned around, wanting to avoid conflict between her brother and Lando, and any pictures and rumours that would most likely arise when people spotted the world-famous Formula 1 drivers. That didn’t mean she’d avoid his touch, though; throwing her arms over his shoulders while he held her waist, they kept dancing together.

Martijn’s set ended way sooner than they would’ve liked it to, and it was only a while longer before the group left Kingsland for his penthouse. After all, when you’re invited to Martin Garrix’s after-party by the man himself, you cannot refuse.

Somehow, they managed to get to his penthouse safely, where they kept the party going until at least midnight. Most of the people Martijn invited left after the fireworks, leaving a smaller group of people occupying the rooftop. After standing, dancing and jumping all day and night, the group finally found somewhere to sit for a while – just to let their legs rest. But, as luck would have it, there weren’t enough seats, because when are there ever? Before Y/N could even suggest she’d stand, Lando, in his drunken stupor, had already pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He smiled triumphantly as she sat, “You looked tired,” is all he said to justify it.

Despite her surprise, Y/N welcomed the closeness and leaned into Lando, resting her body against his while she sipped her Aperol and joined the ongoing discussion. It was the perfect way to end her night – surrounded by her friends, joking around and enjoying her drink. She enjoyed the drunken conversation, giggling whenever Lando would whisper a funny remark in her ear about whatever stupid comment someone just uttered. His commentary was so distracting that she didn’t even notice when he put his hand on her thigh and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Max, however, did notice. He had been keeping an eye on Lando since their interaction at Kingsland when Y/N was basically grinding on Lando. Knowing a warning glare didn’t do much last time, Max was ready to do just about anything to make his objections clear if Lando decided to take things too far in his presence. Especially when he saw Lando’s hand moving higher up Y/N’s leg while she solely giggled in his arms. It’s an understatement to say the alcohol made Lando bolder – he felt fucking fearless as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, not removing his eyes for even a second, not until a loud voice interrupts the conversation, at least.

“Hey, mate, let’s keep it PG, yeah?” The tone of Max’s voice made the words sound a lot less casual and jovial than they usually would and Y/N’s cheeks flared up when she noticed he was referring to her and Lando. Lando’s hands shot up, as if Y/N’s warm skin burned his hands, lifting them in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry man, didn’t even notice it,” he replied.

Max glowered at him, showing he was not messing around before returning to his conversation.

When Max’s attention shifted away from them, Lando tentatively placed his hand back. The alcohol running through his veins made him ballsy and fearless as he continued to make comments in Y/N’s ear. This time, she noticed his moving hand, a blush rising to her cheeks in anticipation of Max’s reaction. But he wasn’t paying attention to the two of them, not until he heard his sister laughing boisterously. Startled at the sound, his eyes darted over to the pair, widening in disbelief when he spotted Lando’s wandering hand edging closer to the hem of your skirt once again. Max’s instincts immediately kicked in at the sight – the audacity of this man.

“That’s enough, Norris. Hands off,” he commanded, his tone firm.

Lando’s confidence faltered under Max’s scrutinising gaze, and he removed his hand immediately. “Sorry, man,” he said, blushing at the attention. Max, too, had been drinking all day, and Lando didn’t want to risk another injury; the cut on his nose was enough for today.

Lando’s sudden change in behaviour was obvious to Y/N; his uncertainty and reluctance to touch her were palpable. In an attempt to reassure him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, cuddling into him while she kept the conversation going. She made eye contact with her brother, whose unrelenting glare softened at her comfort. All he wanted to do was to protect Y/N, but it now felt unnecessary as she seemed entirely at ease with Lando.

At some point during the night, Y/N took the initiative and grabbed Lando’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Lando was apprehensive at the gesture, looking over at Max to see his reaction, but he was focused on his sister. He watched her play with Lando’s hand, fiddling with his fingers and giggling into the crook of his neck. Max shifted his eyes to Lando, nodding at him before returning to his conversation – a sign of approval. If his sister was okay with it, initiating and encouraging it even, then he would accept it.

They stayed in the same position until people started to leave. When Y/N’s friends mentioned heading home, Max suggested everyone should go back, not wanting the girls to walk home alone while they were wasted. It took little convincing to get everyone into the elevator and out to the street to start the short journey (although much longer when drunk) back to his apartment.

Lando and Y/N were walking next to each other, rounding up the group while Max was busy herding Y/N’s friends through the city. They were leaning on each other as they stumbled through the streets, laughing at Max who was frantically chasing the girls to make sure they took the right turns.

When they finally got back to Max’s apartment, the chaos of the night followed them inside as Max helped everyone to their beds. He had basically adopted Y/N’s friends as his sisters by now, fussing over them throughout the night. Occupied with the girls, Max doesn’t notice Lando following his sister into her bedroom. He sprawled himself out on the bed, barely kicking off his shoes, while Y/N got herself ready to sleep.

She stumbled over to the bed while Lando watched her, both of them giggling as she nearly tripped over the shoes scattered around the floor. She curled up next to him on the bed, her body fitting perfectly against his. As they drifted to sleep, their whispers slowly faded into silence until the only sounds that remained were the soft snores from the cuddled-up couple, and the quiet stomps of Max trying to catch Y/N's giggling friends.

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