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januaryembrs · 10 days

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tea!! anything bugsy and spencer

the one with the surfboard | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

description: there's only one person who could ever get Spencer Reid in the ocean and that's Bugsy

length: 1.6k

warnings: mention of sex, swearing, Penelope and Reid being thirsty for Morgan and bugsy. Pen calls Derek chocolate thunder but this is nothing new! set at beginning of season six.

part of the trouble almost all my life universe

Spencer settled his feet into the warm sand, trying his hardest to make sure the grain didn’t stick to the thick layer of suncream he’d applied not even five minute earlier, his sunglasses hanging on his nose as he watched Morgan and Bugsy hit a ball to one another over an invisible volleyball net.

“You not going to take a swim, pretty boy?” Emily asked, basking on her back in a red bikini, soaking up the sun they rarely got so clearly stuck in their office. His face scrunched up, shaking his head until he remembered Emily had her eyes closed, and it only took one look at where JJ was laying incredibly still to know she’d already dozed off on the sun lounger.

“One litre of ocean water has about one billion microbes of bacteria and around ten billion viruses, so,” He shuddered, his lithe fingers gripping the arms of the chair as he tried not to think about every single one of them entering his mouth if he were to even get close enough it could spray on his face, “No thankyou,”

“Not even if Bugsy asked you?” Penelope pointed out, a sex on the beach she’d ordered with a giggle and a ‘if Morgan gets lucky.’

His lips twitched, feeling his neck grow hot in a way he told himself was just the sun, and he glanced at the technical analyst with something fleeting, “She did ask me, I told her the exact same thing I’m telling you guys,”

“And?” Emily asked, sensing that hadn’t been the end of the conversation because her sister knew exactly how to get her way when it came to men, Spencer specifically.

Rubbing under his nose with his knuckle, Spencer downcast his eyes to the beer Bug had handed him, sand sticking to the green, frosted glass as the liquid bubbled freshly inside the bottle, “She said I owed her an hour of fun,”

Penelope’s face lit up at the innuendo of it, nudging him lightly with her shoulder, “Hell yeah, you’re such a stud, Reid. An hour?”

Emily winced in grotesque, “That’s my sister you’re talking about there, Pen. A sister is very much present here,”

The blonde shrugged, sipping through her pineapple decorated straw, “Not my fault you have a hot sister, Prentiss,”

“Can we stop talking about this? Please?” Spencer floundered, his fingers wrapping over the edge of the seat, his jaw tensing as the words hot, hot, hot, smeared all over his brain like a stamp. And everything he’d tried to deny for months bit at his neck so much so he was quickly fiddling with his shirt collar.

“Agreed,” Emily seconded, taking a long drink of her mojito, and Penelope saw it as a chance to lean in close to him, a smirk on her clementine scented lips.

“Don’t you think watching the two of them play together is like something out of Baywatch,” She murmured, her eyes locking on the two agents that seemed to be on their longest streak yet judging by all the laughing and shouting going on in between hits.

Spencer had never tuned into Baywatch, nor did he have any intention of doing so. But he did have to admit that watching Bugsy jump around in the ocean, her hair clasped back in a claw clip away from her face, her skin practically glowing from the vitamin D both on her face and on her obscenely beautiful body that was free to see in those bikini shorts and mini top, was more captivating than any tv show he could imagine.

He swallowed, shaking his head, “I think you spend too much time with Derek,”

Penelope held her chest in mock offence, her glass empty in her hand as she looked at him with teasing eyes, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, Reid. There’s no such thing as too much chocolate thunder time.”

Spencer smirked, chuckling to himself and he barely even noticed the two people that were the hot topic of conversation had left the sea until a plastic, bouncy ball went hurtling at Emily’s forehead and rebounded clear off her hairline.

“FUCK,” The woman cursed, opening her eyes where a few rogue droplets of sea water dribbled down her cheek, her peace and serenity completely wiped away where her little sister stood with a hidden smirk, Derek biting his knuckle to hide his laugh, “You fucker, what was that for?”

“Just making sure you hadn’t cooked alive, you looked very still,” Bugsy held her hands up in innocence, even though Emily stood with a vengeance, rolling her eyes at the cheeky grin she got back.

Emily muttered something about her being a childish shrew, before she huffed, shoving past her sister and heading towards the beachfront bar, Derek and Penelope in tow. Which left the two of them, and a sleeping JJ, on their tiny corner of the beach.

“You sure you don’t want to come in?” Bugsy asked, trails of salt water sliding off her hair and down her stomach, the sight of them making Spencer’s mouth dryer than the sand beneath them, “I saw a jellyfish, or at least I think it was, it may have been a condom,” Spencer gagged inside his mouth with an incredulous look on his face, and she chuckled, dropping the ball to his feet, “Relax, I’m kidding. I’m going back in if you want to join, promise I won’t splash you or nothing,”

“I’m good, you go have fun with your new pal; the condom,” He said with a grossed out pull of his lips, though he smiled when she did and she grabbed the surfboard stuck in the ground beside him, trotting off back towards the ocean, “Remember to reapply soon!” He called, and she flicked a look over her shoulder.

“You're as bad as Emily,” She yelled back, taking off towards the waves with a chuckle, the sea breeze blowing tiny shrapnels of sand against her calves.

Spencer shamefully felt his eyes drop to her butt, and as fast as he did, he looked away, because that was supposed to be his best friend. She’d certainly never made it seem like they were going to be anything else. Perverts watched pretty girls running, perverts watched how their skin lit up with the rays of lights bouncing off the water and their hips swung with every step, and he wasn’t a pervert.

He was just… human. And who could ever resist her.

He watched the sea spraying out beneath her feet as she ran right in, and she waded out deep enough that he lost sight of her stomach, the board skirting the surface of the water for a moment.

She was possibly the coolest person he’d ever met, and she was his best friend.

He watched her hop up onto her stomach, keeping an eye on the horizon for a big enough wave rolling in. Deciding on an incoming ripple gradually gaining traction, she paddled out towards it, her arms strong and focused from what he could see where he was sat, nursing his bottle of beer.

“Baby Prentiss got moves,” Morgan whistled as they returned back with drinks cold enough Spencer saw the condensation gathering on the glass already, though that was the only time he actually tore his eyes away from her as she got further away from the safety of land, the black band attaching her ankle to the board the only thing he could really see of her.

“She talked some bar boy into teaching her the Summer she spent in Mexico with my mom,” Emily shook her head as they watched her jump up into a steady stand, the rip gathering under her surfboard and soon she was floating over the water, the concentration evident on her face as she held her arms out to balance.

She went a few more times, the group settling into the quiet they had whenever she was busy, because she was not exactly known for her calm nature, yet Spencer’s eyes were the only ones glued to her figure the entire time, ever the worrier when it came to her daredevil side.

And it was like he was watching it in slow motion; on her fifth turn riding a particularly quick rip her balance got thrown off. Nothing serious, it was only a few ten yards out offshore, and she was a strong swimmer, he’d seen it. She quickly lowered herself back into a straddled sit, only for the wave to gain traction before it fizzled out, crashing into the side of her board right as she was about to take a breath, and he watched her flip sidewards into the water, the tide bringing her close enough he knew she’d be able to stand.

But she didn’t come up for a few moments, and it was enough that Spencer was out of his seat, taking off jogging towards the ocean, every statistic that had been whizzing through that big brain of his about how filthy the water was suddenly evaporating as he watched her throw a hand up to the surface, her board skirting above her being the only pointer for him where to go.

By the time he made it over to her, he was knee deep before he thought of the consequences, the cold hitting him like a freight train, and she was already dragging herself towards land on her hands and knees, her hair stuck to her face, her claw clip ripped out by the current.

“Are you okay?” He asked, but she didn’t respond, only to cough up sea water with a screwed up expression that told him just how horrible it tasted.

“I need a beer,” She wheezed, as he lifted his hands under her arms, tugging her to her feet, his entire torso getting drenched as she clung onto him for safety, still spluttering ocean out of her lungs.

And he shook his head with a smile, brushing her hair back enough for her to see, her eyes sore and red with angry blood vessels where he imagined it stung to get the salty water in them, and all but dragged her back up the rest of the beach where Derek and Emily were laughing at her fail so hard they’d woken JJ up.

“Yasmine Bleeth never ate seawater, Bug, what happened?” Morgan jeered, earning him a middle finger to the face as Penelope offered her a nice big gulp of a margarita to clear her taste buds.

And for the first time all day, Spencer wasn’t even thinking about how much bacteria was all over his skin if it meant she was alright.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader

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sinofwriting · 7 months

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It's Like I Don't Know You Anymore - Max Verstappen (& Lewis Hamilton)

Words: 4,816 Summary: Y/N Rosberg, Nico Rosberg’s little sister, returns to the world of F1 after six years away. And she returns in the most unexpected garage. Warning(s)/Note(s): Takes place in 2022, Past Relationship with Lewis Hamilton that involves an age difference of about 11 years. Secret/Private Relationship(s), Smut in the Imola 2022 part

Taglist | Masterlist | Patreon | It's Like I Don't Know You Anymore Verse

Jeddah 2022

Lewis scoffs as he reads the trash article. It was anything but substantial and from a site that was more known for just recirculating already known things in their own words and for the occasional lie to stir up drama.

He had only seen it because he had alerts on his personal phone for her name and he couldn’t help but click on it seeing that it was popping up on an F1 related site. He expected it to be one of those top ten outfit things, he hadn’t expected utter garbage.

He’d know if she was returning to the paddock, he would’ve been told, especially during one of the first few weekends of the new season. The first season since he had won that he won’t have the number one on his car and his jaw clenched at the reminder that he was no longer the current world champion, that he had to stay longer, needed to stay longer. He wanted that eighth championship, and until he got it he was staying, needed to. And this year could be the year, would be the year.

“Have you seen this rubbish?” Lewis asks Toto when he steps out of his driver's room and into the garage. It’s filled with life as everyone gets ready for the first free practice session. Shouts being heard back and forth. The whirring of tools as mechanics make sure they’re all working and where they should be. “What rubbish?” His Austrian accent is thick as it wraps around the words. He glances around, looking for cameras, spotting none, he still lowers his voice. “Y/N,” the name is awkward off his tongue and it makes Toto flinch, no one had called her that, not unless it was for something important, like life or death. “Some blog reported that she’s in Red Bull’s garage.” He laughs. The taller man stills.

Toto after all these years still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened between Mouse and Lewis. He knew what had happened between Nico and Lewis, had tried to fix it, to patch it up, to stay neutral, but his preference for Lewis had been obvious to Nico and the brotherhood that had been so strong, had spanned so many years, ended quicker than it began as the season drew on and the tension got tighter.

And while he hadn’t managed to play middle man without one of them getting mad, shouting, screaming, storming away like a toddler. Mouse had. She had easily gone between the two men as they both threw fits. He still wasn’t sure how the girl had done it, barely an adult, but dealing with two grown men, but she had and handled it like a champ. Toto had never been allowed to hold Nico’s trophy like Lewis had allowed him to when he had won before, but he knew and had seen how Nico let her hold. As if it was not just his but hers as well.

Toto had expected when the 2017 season started even with Nico, leaving, retiring, for her to come anyways. Had set aside passes for her, made sure that she was in the system to be allowed in despite knowing that she would show up with Lewis, because that’s how it had always been. If she wasn’t showing up with her brother, she was showing up with Lewis. But she was a no show and when he tried to reach out, he was blocked.

She went full no contact with everyone in the racing world and at first Toto had thought that maybe something serious had happened, but she was still posting on her blog, though there was a distinct lack of F1, she just wasn’t talking to him. He could still remember the swell of anger that came over and then the shame that had quickly followed. How he had gone to Lewis to ask if she was alright, if she was mad at him, mad at Mercedes, only for Lewis to flinch, to shake his head. Telling him that he hadn’t heard from her or seen since the day after Nico won his championship. He could still feel the bitterness that rolled off of Lewis’ tongue as he said that none of the Rosberg’s were talking to him.

“It’s not rubbish.” Toto manages to say after a moment, trying to push back the memories, the grief of no longer getting to see Mouse grow up, because god she had just turned twenty-six and the last time he had seen her, she was twenty, still a child in many ways. “She is at Red Bull’s garage.” “What?” “She showed up after all the drivers did, waited I think, and made her appearance. Went straight to Red Bull. She had passes.” “She’s never liked Red Bull.” “You’ve never liked Red Bull.” Toto corrects.

It was a thing that had frustrated much of the Mercedes team, how despite himself, Nico, and Lewis despising Red Bull, she still liked them, would pop into their garage, chat with their drivers, mechanics, engineers, and such. Toto nearly had an aneurysm the first time he saw her and Horner talking.

“Doesn’t make sense.” “No it doesn’t.”

—

“Red Bull, huh? Naughty, naughty girl.” He clicks his tongue. She rolls her eyes, “You already knew that I was going there.” He laughs, “Doesn’t mean I can’t tease you about it.” “Was there a reason you called, Nico?” “What? I can’t check in on my sister?” She rolls her eyes again, but grins. “I just wanted to make sure that nothing happened.” “Lewis didn’t try to talk to me or at least not that I know of.” It was easy to read between the lines with Nico. “I stayed at Red Bull, in their garage, no one but Red Bull personnel came close to me.” “And you still want to do this?” “Yes.” Her voice is soft and she sits on the hotel bed, crossing her ankles. “I’ve missed it, the sport, the paddock, it’s nice to be back.” “And Mercedes?” “I have no interest in talking to anyone at Mercedes, past or present. They don’t matter, not anymore.” “Mouse. You will be careful, yes? I’m not there anymore.” “Careful as can be.”

Australia 2022

He expects her to be at the next race in Australia and he doesn’t know why. It had been one of the races she was always willing to miss as she hated flying there. Not feeling it was worth it.

So he pretends not to be disappointed when no photos of her arriving popping up, not even whispers of rumors of her sneaking in which he wouldn’t believe in the first place. The idea of her sneaking into a race made him scoff. It wasn’t her, that wasn’t how she operated. He knew her, knew she liked the attention of arriving at the races just like he did. He also pretends that it doesn’t hurt to think about how they used to show up together to races.

Imola 2022

“You’re going to win.” She soothes, rubbing his shoulders and he can’t help but let them drop, let her loosen the tension in them. “I retired from the last race.” “And that was the last race.” He wants to deny it, there’s still that feeling that settles at the bottom of his stomach when he doesn’t win, when he isn’t on the podium, in the points. But it’s lessened as he’s been with her. “And tell me, Schat.” He grabs at her hand, gently pulling her until she’s in front of him, standing between his legs. “Will I just win the GP or also the sprint?” She smiles and he can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Both.” She tells him, resting her hands on his face and letting their lips brush together. “You’ll win both, Max.”

He wins the sprint and then the GP and he’s thankful that she isn’t out with the rest of the team when he’s on the podium, that she stayed in his drivers room, waiting for him. Because he knows that if she had, he would’ve ruined their plans of staying private, secret. He would have kissed her, told her that she did it, she told him he was going to win, so he did. He won both of them for her.

Max does tell her that. He tells her that in between champagne flavored kisses, along with thanks and murmurs of his love against her skin as she sighs and tugs at his nomex.

“I could win every race this season with you supporting me, Schat.” His breathing is heavy, he’s in between her thighs, racesuit and nomex just tugged down enough for his dick to be free, ass exposed. She hadn’t protested, but moaned when he ripped through her tights that she was wearing underneath her skirt, and moaned again when he moved her underwear to the side. Rubbing at her clit to get her wet as he quickly prepped her before sinking into her. He repeats it as he thrusts inside her, high on not the two wins, but on her, on her support, her belief. “You're my lucky charm.” She freezes around him, her moans tapering off and he curses as he realizes what he said. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, lips against her forehead. “I did not mean.” “I know.” She sounds sure, truthful, but her legs that had been tight around him, heels digging into him, have loosened.

“If I don’t win a race that is my fault or the teams. It is not yours.” He tells her. She nods but doesn’t look at him. “Schat.” He holds her chin between two fingers, holding eye contact with her. “You are my lucky charm. Not because I think I will win races because of you and your support. Because you make even the races I don’t win feel okay, like I haven’t failed.” “You haven’t failed.” She immediately says frowning and her legs are tightening back up around him. “You can’t win every race no matter how good luck it looks on you.” He flushes at her words. “I know you are different from him. You have shown that already.” She struggles with the next words. “I just don’t think I can handle being called a lucky charm yet.” “Then I won’t.” He tells her. She blinks at him, at how easy he said, at simple he’s making it. “But you said.” “Yes.” He shrugs, shifting his weight and they both hiss at how his body moves from it, both having forgotten that he was still inside her. But he pushes his building arousal away. “But I won’t say it any more. Not if it makes you uncomfortable.” She stares at him for a few seconds before smiling. “Ik houd van je Max.” He smiles back at her, kissing her. “Ik houd van je, Schat.”

He goes to pull out, unable to ignore the arousal building in him anymore, but not wanting her to feel like they need to have sex, but her heels are pressing into him, thighs tightening around him.

“Fuck me, Max.” He says her name, quiet and with wide eyes. She moves her hips and he follows them with a snap of his own. “You won two races.” She murmurs, breathing tickling his lips before she’s placing her lips on his jaw, moving them down to his neck. “Fuck me, Max. I want you to. Want to celebrate with you like this.”

She’s sucking a mark into his skin and he’s choking down a groan. “Just us two, our own quick celebration before you have to go with your team. Before I’m left all alone in our hotel room.” He starts to thrust again, pressing his lips against hers before she can say anything else, before he really leaves any earlier than he was already planning to at the dinner celebration the team was holding.

As he continues to thrust into her, his lips stay against hers, muffling both of their sounds, but as he feels his balls tightening, he breaks them apart, pressing her face into his neck, encouraging her to bite at him as his other hand goes between their bodies, to her clit.

The bite of hers against his collarbone when she clenches around him, cumming, has him hissing. He stills his hips as she comes down from her orgasm, still rubbing at her clit, but more gently.

“Where do you want it?” He asks, when she bats his hand away from her and presses for him to continue to rock into her body. His orgasm is quickly approaching and really he should be pulling out, just finish in his own hand in case he finishes inside her before she says it's okay. But she’s tight and warm and feels too good. “Do you want it in your mouth? Want me to pull out? Finish in my hand, feed it to you?” She moans at his words, at the thing they’ve done once before. “Or do you want me to leave you something? Cum inside you and have you feel it drip out, go back to the hotel with just your underwear stopping it from dripping down your leg and ruining your tights.” “Inside Max. Please, inside me.” He groans at her words, hips speeding up. He only manages a few solid thrusts before he’s shuddering, pressing as close as he can as cums inside her, muffling a moan against her shoulder.

His hips twitch a little in the aftershocks of his orgasm as he pants against her shoulder.

“You’re going to kill me.” “With what?” She laughs. “Orgasms?” “With your dirty little mind.” He tells her, slowly pulling out, rubbing at her thighs as he does. She laughs again and he smiles at how her whole face lights up.

Miami 2023

It’s Miami. It’s extravagant. It's the first race at the new circuit. It’s her.

She’s dressed in a soft color, bringing out her eyes. She’s wearing the bracelet he gave her when she turned fourteen, the ring her father gave her that once belonged to her grandmother. She’s not wearing the necklace he gave her when she turned eighteen. It’s back in Monaco, still sitting on the nightstand of what’s still her side of the bed.

She has new bracelets, rings, and a new necklace. The necklace makes his jaw clench, fists tighten. He had never thought to consider that maybe she’d be with someone else after all these years. He hadn’t, not for anything more than one night.

Lewis stares at the clasp of her necklace. Wonders if it’s worth anywhere near what he gave her. Wonders who gave it to her. Some boy with a trust fund? Some guy that managed to make it to the top not because of hard work but because of connections?

He doesn’t know and it burns alongside the anger. He used to know nearly everything about her and he still knows her, he just doesn’t know the new things and that hurts worse than not knowing her at all anymore.

He watches as Geri fixes the necklace for her and wonders when exactly she got so close to Horner’s wife. “Where exactly did you get this darling?” She glows at the name, “From a jeweler that Nico loves. I can never remember the name.” The burning inside him vanishes at his name. Something had changed, he knew something new about her. Necklaces were no longer just things she wore from significant others.

Spain 2022

He cocks an eyebrow as George comes up to him nervously, messing with his hands. “You alright?” “Yeah, I just heard a weird rumor.” His eyes dart away and George hates that Toto is making him do this but doesn’t want to think about why, can feel the headache from just imagining thinking about the why. “What did you hear?” “Apparently, Y/N Rosberg,” Lewis stills at her name and curiosity clutches at George before he pushes down and away. “got snuck into the Red Bull garage.” The older man immediately scoffs. “Yeah, right. She likes arriving at the races.” He raises his hands, “that’s just what I heard.” “Well, it’s wrong. A shit rumor. Anyone who knows Mouse,” the nickname leaves his mouth before he can think, can stop it, “knows that she loves arriving on a race weekend, all the cameras, getting to show off whatever outfit she put together.” “Just what I heard, mate.” George repeats, before quickly retreating, cursing Toto out underneath his breath as soon as he rounds the corner and is far away from Lewis.

Monaco 2022

She’s not at Monaco. She’s not at Monaco. The words are on repeat in his head. He doesn’t understand it. She lived here or maybe had lived here. Monaco was small, it was hard to imagine that he had never run into her since the end of 2016 but then again he managed to dodge him. So it was possible.

He just didn’t like the idea of it. That if she still lived here that she had made sure to dodge him, to make sure they never ran into each other.

Austria 2022

She doesn’t show up at Baku, her favorite circuit, Montreal, or Silverstone, but she’s here at Austria. He can’t make sense of why she’s showing up at the races she is. Can’t make sense of why it’s only Red Bull’s garage that she visits.

It’s driving him insane trying to make sense of it. Just like he can’t make sense of another rumor that she sneaked into watch the race in Baku. This one hadn’t been quiet though from George. It had made its run on twitter and instagram, though most fans of hers just like him, knew that they were false. Her blog was still full of talking about how much she loved showing up at race weekends, feeling the energy, interacting with fans, even if they were years old. It was telling that she never deleted them. And he knew that she’d never sneak into a race.

July 2015

“Lew?” Her voice is quiet, barely a whisper, as if she’s afraid he fell asleep. He makes a humming noise, keeping his eyes closed but pressing his fingers a bit more into her back as they dance along her spine. “When do you stop?” He frowns at the vague question, eyes blinking open. “Stop what?” “When did you stop seeing me as Nico’s sister? As a kid?” His fingers pause as he thinks about her questions, wonders if he really wants to tell her, really wants her to know. He takes a deep breath, in and out of the nose before letting his fingers continue to dance. “As Nico’s sister? Probably around 2011 and Nico wasn’t hiding you away from everyone as much. I still see you a bit as his sister, don’t know if that will ever change.” She nods, “and as a kid?” “December 2013.” He’s just happy that he doesn’t remember the day. “Nicole and I joined Nico, Viv and you on that yacht.” She makes a humming noise, curling closer to him. “Nicole noticed actually.” And he has to chuckle remembering his then girlfriend's reaction. “She hadn’t seen you for a few months and had never seen you like that. Told me that I’d have to help Nico out with keeping guys like us away from you.” She huffs out a laugh, but doesn’t say anything, sensing that he’s not done. “She said that and I looked and suddenly you weren’t five years old content only in Nico’s arms, or ten crying because Keke and Nico were leaving without you again. You had grown and you were fucking gorgeous.” She stares at him, unsure of what to make of what he just told her. Not sure how she felt that it was Nicole that had made him realize that she wasn’t a little girl anymore. “You know,” she starts. “I had boobs way before I was seventeen.” Lewis sputters out a laugh and she laughs as well. “Well, I wasn’t looking.” She shakes her head, before tucking it into the crook of his neck. “No, just waited until I was a month away from being legal.” “Yeah and I waited longer to do anything about it.” “Not that much longer.” She mumbles, grinning against his skin when he pinches at her.

Spa 2022 They're making a statement, not one that says much, her prior years coming to so many races and being friendly with drivers preventing that, but it’s still a statement.

It’s the second race since she’s returned instead of arriving before all the drivers or after when making an appearance in front of the cameras that she arrives when they are. More importantly she’s arrived with Max. She’s not on his arm or holding his hand, there’s a well kept distance between them. One that reads friendly, close, but not intimate. She wasn’t quite ready to go public with him, but she was willing to make it known that she and Max were friendly with each other.

“It’s nice having you here.” She smiles at Sophie, taking her eyes briefly off the little boy in her arms. “It’s nice being here.” The couch sinks next to her and she leans into Max as he wraps an arm around her shoulder, dropping a kiss to her temple. “Looks good on you.” He murmurs, smiling at his nephew in her arms. “A baby? Or a baby that looks identical to you?” “Well I’d much prefer one that looks like both of us.” She sends him a look, but can’t not smile at his words. “Sap.” “Just for you.”

Two days later she sits in a garage for the first time in years during a race and she remembers how much she loved it. There was nothing better than watching a race from the garage.

She watches as Max manages to recover from his grid penalty, making his way through the field and winning the race and she cheers with the rest of the garage, hugs everyone she can reach. As everyone runs out to greet Max, to watch as he celebrates his win, she stays.

Max didn’t have any impulse control when high on adrenaline, she knew exactly what would happen if she went out there with him, so she went back to his driver's room and waits for him.

Dutch 2023

“Mouse!” Lewis calls and he watches as she stills while Horner stiffens at the name. It makes him itch. Horner and the rest of Red Bull had always been the odd ones out, never calling her Mouse, but rather her name or girly, the last she took a shining to.

He could still remember the first time they had heard Horner call her that. He had been ready to punch him, but she had beamed at the team principal, jumping up to give him a hug and asking him about his wife.

“Lewis.” Her voice is cool and he nearly flinches at her calling him Lewis. He had never been Lewis to her, always Lew. “How have you been? It’s been awhile.” Nearly six years, he thinks but doesn’t say. “Good. So has Nico.” He flinches at his name. “Good.” His voice is quiet. “That’s good.”

Horner wraps an arm around her shoulders, “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.” She nods and doesn’t even glance at him as she and Horner walk away, leaving him looking after her with despair and grief threatening to swallow him whole.

Japan 2022

He watches as she looks at Max with tears in her eyes as the Red Bull crew cheer as Max gives his post race interview, smiling as he thanks the fans, smiling because he won his second championship.

As soon as the interview is done, he’s launching himself back into the arms of the Red Bull crew, they all easily take his weight, patting him on the back, cheering for him. And then he watches when as soon as they release him, Max sees her. His eyes going wide with surprise at seeing her.

Lewis watches as she leans as far over the barrier as she can, wrapping her arms around his neck as his go around her waist to hold her. He watches but nothing prepares him for what happens next, the pain that strikes his heart. Because suddenly she’s kissing him, tears running down her face and Max is kissing her back like he’s done it a hundred times.

He doesn’t hear it or see it, but one of Red Bull’s cameras does and it makes it into their video to celebrate Max winning his second championship. Her saying that she’s so proud of him, never been prouder, and that she loves him and the easy way Max says it back, no hesitation.

It’s that, not her kissing Max in front of seemingly the whole world, that makes him realize that the future he had imagined, the image of her that was still the nineteen year old girl he fell in love with, is gone and has been since the night that Nico won his championship and when she came to comfort him, he only had harsh and degrading words for her.

They never could have been together again after his accusations of her feeding Nico information, blaming her for his lack of winning because she wasn’t supportive enough, his accusation of the lucky charm she was supposed to be was nothing but bad luck just like she was and always had been.

He had deluded himself into thinking that they still would end up together, that her being the love of his life, meant that he was also hers. He’s deluded himself for almost six years and now it’s not just heartbreak that fills him but shame and guilt. Because how could he have ever thought she’d want to be with him again when he never even tried to offer her an apology or to tell anyone about her.

@cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @quackquackhun @crystals-faith @andreea-15-25 @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @benstormy @elliegrey2803

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen imagine #lewis hamilton imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #f1 smut #idkya verse

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prongslvl · 1 year

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SLEEPYHEAD - marauders trio

PAIRING marauders trio x fem!reader

SUMMARY scenarios of james, remus, and sirius seeing you asleep in interesting places.

a/n: this was such a challenge to write. i did lots of research (fanfic reading lmao) to do the boys' characterization justice. the requester seemed to like sirius so i made his longer and have a bit more plot behind it. happy reading!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

JAMES + COUCH

it was during james' quidditch practice that he realized you were nowhere to be seen. usually he'd see you chatting with the others as you waited for him, but today you weren't.

the gryffindor team got home pretty late after, resulting in little time for the curly-haired boy to look for you. he supposed you were probably loitering around with the new book you bought up your nose, walking around to immerse yourself, as you always explain to him.

james' planned to clean himself up before looking for you, but as he enters the gryffindor common room, he sees you laying on the couches near the fireplace. he perks up at the sight of his m.i.a girlfriend, happy to see you there. placing the broom stick down and removing his dirtied gloves, james creeped up behind you.

he was faced with your sleeping one, book in hand, while your head uncomfortably rested on the arm rest. he couldn't help but giggle at how cute you are. it wasn't the first time he saw you knocked out cold during your reading sessions, it became a usual scene for james.

with one knee on the ground, he bends his head down to see you up close.

"replaced me with a book once again, haven't you?" he says it lightheartedly, chuckling to himself when you react to his voice by scrunching your nose.

just like he always does; james grabs the book from your hand and puts it on a table where you can find it again in the morning before he scoops you up. your arms automatically hug the boy's neck, nuzzling your face against his shoulders.

he practically melts at your action, trying his best not to get weak in the knees as he walks upstairs to his room. as much as he wants you to wake up in your own bed, it wouldn't be the best idea to enter the girl's dormitory at such late hours. he learned his lesson the hard way, with sirius calling him a 'perv' every chance he gets.

"oh, the things i do for you." he mumbles, caressing your cheeks. he places you on the mattress and watches how you hug the pillows that surround you.

he sat on the edge of the bed, though he tried his best not to make any noise, your eyes began to slowly open, or at least one of them.

"james? when did you arrive?" he can tell you were fighting a yawn as you talked.

"about ten minutes ago. go back to sleep, love. you still owe me all your attention tomorrow for leaving me alone during practice." he kisses the top of your forehead, making your delirious self giggle.

you mumbled an "okay" before sleeping once more. james didn't bother showing that night, his sleepiness and overall desire to be next to you came over him.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

REMUS + FLOOR

"do you need leave, moony? i'm sure she's just in the library— y'know, somewhere. we can all just meet at the great hall!" sirius pleads, dragging the hem of remus' sweater.

"very reassuring, pads. just go with james, we'll meet you there." he flicks the black haired boy's hand away from him before finally waving goodbye. remus could hear sirius' grumble as he walked away.

ever since he said he'd pick you up between classes, remus hasn't been available to hang out longer with the rest of his friends, resulting in sirius' little tantrums whenever he leaves. he finds it quite overdramatic since the both of you do spend your time with the rest.

remus arrived at your classroom and waited for you to come out. as he leans on the wall besides the door, he feels a hand tap his shoulders. what he expected to be you was another gryffindor; if he remembered correctly, she was the friend you made during charms.

"can i help you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"you're here for her, right?" the mention of your name made him curious. "she didn't attend today. i last saw her in the library." remus saw her eyes look around suspiciously, then lean closer to his ears. "specifically the restricted section."

a light chuckle came from his mouth at the information. he expected no less; you did have a concerning fondness for anything not allowed, perhaps the very reason why you became such a good friend of the marauders and his girlfriend, of course.

remus thanks the student, bidding her a goodbye before leaving.

he was able to easily find you asleep on the floor after going through a secret tunnel he and james found about a month ago. there were books surrounding you, remus guessed was an attempt to hide yourself. he recognized the book in your hands; it was the same one he recently finished.

placing a small piece of parchment paper on the page you were currently on, remus placed the book inside your bag, which was sprawled along with you on the floor. he takes your bag first, swinging it on his shoulder before carrying his sleepy girlfriend.

"wake up, mon coeur." he whispers in your ear, both for intimacy and for caution in case the librarian sees them. remus sees your eyes slowly open, an enamored smile on his face as you wake up. "as much as i love carrying you around, pads is probably on his last leg looking for us."

"i'm sorry, rem." you yawned, "i wanted to read the book you told me; thought it would be a good conversation starter." you said in a sleepy confession, still half awake, how comfortable you are in his arms.

he shook his head in slight disbelief, chuckling to himself as he left a peck on your cheeks. "there's always a conversation starter with you. don't worry about finishing it, i'll read it for you later."

remus still carried you out of the library, but once you were able to stand on your own two feet, remus held your hands as both of you walked down to the great hall.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

SIRIUS + WINDOW

it was a peaceful afternoon with the sun fully out; students were out in the gardens enjoying the rays of sunlight after classes.

at the other side of the garden were the marauders and the rest of the quidditch. a quidditch match was just around the corner, so most members of the team spent their breaks practicing, including sirius and the others accompanying james.

there were times the captain would let the marauders play for fun, just like right now. sirius held a broom stick under him, tossing the quaffle up and down in his hands as his best friend, james, taunted him in the sky.

"c'mon, pads! you scared?"

"it takes a lot more than that to make me scared of you, prongs. watch your glasses." sirius said with a smirk, using all his strength to toss the ball at james. the golden snitch was released as soon as the other players went darting for both james and the quaffles, loud chortles erupted in the sky.

sirius flew towards one of the rings as soon as he was able to catch a quaffle, zooming past the other players trying to snatch the ball. before he could score, his eyes glanced at the window of professor mcgonagall's office, seeing a familiar face. he realized it was you sitting by the glass, distracting him from the game.

"sirius, watch out!" before he could remove his eyes from you, he was hit with a bludger, making him lose his balance on the broom.

luckily, james was able to catch him by the collar, inches away from the ground.

"where's your head at, pads!? you stood there like a statue." remus, who only watched from a distance, ran towards the long haired boy. sirius jumps to the ground on his two feet, his hands held by remus.

"i didn't mean to!" he defended himself, his eyes set on the professor's tower. "i just got— a little distracted or something; it doesn't matter!" remus followed his friend's gaze in curiosity. despite the distance, he could tell sirius was staring at the person behind a window.

"don't tell me..." the mention of your name made the black haired boy's head turn toward remus, who had a smirk on his face.

"absolutely not. yes, i did see her, but i wouldn't let myself be hit because of her." his voice wanes, and his mind immediately corrects him. yes, he'll definitely let himself get beat up just for you, and there's no denying that. sirius sighs, walking towards the hogwarts' building.

he hears james calling for him. "i'll be back! just gotta check on something." he informed his friend before dashing inside.

the halls were busy with students, either leaving or entering their class. some of them greeted sirius, giving them a small smile, but he was too focused on making his way to the professor's office. he didn't know why he was in such in a rush to see you. he couldn't even think of an excuse to give once he arrived.

lately, you've been busy with studying for owls, as everyone was too, so you were no where to be found when sirius looked for you. he knew you'd be in the library, but he was too much of a coward to approach in such a crowded place where everyone would see how awkward he'd be conversing with you.

lily, the double agent, as james likes to call her, is friends with you and the marauders. she'll sometimes talk about you when sirius not-so-subtly changes the topic to you, which opens the topic of your whereabouts.

"she's usually at the library, our dorm, and..." professor mcgonagall's office was a few stairs away by now, given how fast-paced the boy was walking.

as soon as he reaches the doors, the said teacher opens the door with several papers in hands.

"mr. black, what can i help you with?" professor mcgonagall's eyed sirius, who immediately knew he was just out in the sun with how disheveled he looked.

"i was looking for a friend of mine. lily told me she'd be here."

he said her name and house, making mcgonagall look back, revealing to sirius that his friend was indeed inside the office. you sat with your back facing towards the door, a book laying on your lap, while your head leaned on the glass.

"she fell asleep. do wake her up; i promised to, but i have a meeting to attend." sirius nods with a smile, "no funny business, mr. black." mcgonagall points her wand at the boy.

he smirks, "yes, professor mcgonagall." amused at her words. she couldn't blame her. really, it was a perfect chance to set up a prank— having the office of a teacher to themselves was any troublemaker's wet dream. but he brushed the thought aside, eyes fixated on you as he entered the room.

sirius carefully walks towards you, not wanting to startle you with his presence. once he got a bit closer, with your face visible to him, he confirmed that you were really asleep. you looked so peaceful that it made him feel guilty for waking you up.

he can't say you and him were close friends— actually, not even friends. you mostly talked to him during classes when you needed help or he needed help but didn't want to ask for it. he adores how kind you are and how naturally charming and funny you are, just by your witty response to his teasing.

"i can't believe i'm seated next to a little nerd." he'd say, with you responding back almost immediately, "thanks to that nerd, you actually aced a pop quiz." as if it were the most natural thing to you. sirius also admires your passion for studying; he thinks it's probably his and his friend's nonexistent studying habits. the only thing sirius doesn't like about you is how carelessly you take care of your body.

he'd be worried sick the whole day when lily would mention you didn't eat or sleep because of homework and tests. you were partially the reason why he trashed one of your professor's class notes, using a spell to translate it into a language he didn't understand, making the test everyone dreaded delayed for a week.

remus says he finally developed a crush, the type where he didn't only like you because he felt like it was a challenge. james says he's severely whipped for you and how he'd kiss the ground you walk on. not including james' overexaggeration, he didn't deny any of their words.

sirius was concerningly and overwhelmingly enamored by you, it makes him question if this was even natural.

he recognized the potion book you were studying. he had the same copy in his little library inside the dorms. he reaches for the book from your lap, holding it. despite sirius' gut telling him not to wake you up so you'd have more sleep, professor mcgonagall would have his head if he didn't.

"hey, love." the nickname rolled off his tongue like nothing. you hummed at the sound of his voice.

he gently taps your cheeks, making you stir in your half-asleep state before fully opening your eyes. the sight of him surprised you, "black? what are you doing here?"

he chuckles at your hoarse voice. "long story short, the professor wanted me to wake you up before your next class starts." the mention of class somehow woke you up, your hands searching for the hard object you left on your lap. sirius notices and shows you the book in his hands.

"you're studying for potions? didn't we just have a text last week?" he asked, giving you back your possession.

"no, that was two weeks ago. we have a test later—" you stop yourself from speaking, looking at the long haired boy with furrowed eyebrows, and say, "don't tell me you didn't study?"

this caught sirius off guard, laughing awkwardly at himself and shaking his head. "it seems i'm a bit fucked here, darling. i didn't study an inch." he was too busy recalling the test from two weeks ago to notice the blush on your face at the nickname.

you went down the window ledge, hugging the book to your chest. "then let's hope professor slughorn will let you sit next to me."

"are you saying you'll let me cheat off of you?" sirius sneakily wraps his arms around your shoulders as he asks. you coughed into your hand before responding, stuttering with your words. "ye-yes. i mean, you did help me with that project in d.a.d.a so it's the least i can do for you."

he walks out of the office with you in his arms, sirius hoped you weren't too close to hear how hard his chest was beating at the contact. "i don't know... that project was almost half our grades in d.a.d.a." he looks in your direction with a smirk on his face. you were too quick to catch what he was trying to say.

"what do you want, sirius black?" you asked in faux annoyance, making the boy laugh.

it was an opportunity for him and he doesn't have any plans to let this go. "go with me to hogsmeade, heard they recently opened a coffee house inspired by the muggle world." his words made you stop.

your silence alarmed him, "well— only if you want to! it's not like i'm—"

"i'll go." you finally answered, your voice meak. this took sirius by surprise: "i've been craving to drink something else other than butterbear anyway."

sirius grinned, holding you even closer to him. "let's drink to our hearts content, shall we?" you nodded with a smile, looking up at him.

"hey, hey, leave some room for merlin in there!" james shouts from across the hallway, making remus and peter beside him cackle.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

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howdoesagrapewrites · 7 months

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𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐈

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, Aegon II is creepy

Notes: someone told me they were waiting for part 2 🥹 btw I hate the show's timeline as a book reader because it makes absolutely no sense and I can't write properly, halfway through this I literally have decided to throw it away and run with what my heart tells me, otherwise I'll combust

>When your father came back from the war of the stepstones in 115 a.c, newly wed to Laena Velaryon, you didn't think anything was going to change, right?

>You missed the Vale, you didn't like seeing your father and Rhea fighting, but she was so kind, just like your wet nurse, she wasn't here in the castle either

>But there was a lot of new people here, and you liked them all, since they're all your family, it is only natural you'd love them all, they often say they love you too

>When the news of Rhea's death and Daemon's nuptials came, almost arriving together, it sparked a sense of empathy and compassion throughout the red keep

>All of the Targaryens were already too "heedful" with your care, declaring you'd be cared for only by family, and in the extraordinary case no one was around, there was two very meticulously chosen handmaidens who were to watch over you until a family member was available

>This measure was whispered from Otto Hightower to king Viserys, this passed as a safety measure, saying that because of your origins, you were at risk, setting the infamous "princess of Flea Bottom" title as precedent to say you were not welcomed by everyone, and therefore in danger (even if everyone who was even rumoured to be against your stay in the castle, had already been "taken care of"). Of course no one objected

>This reawoke an old rivalry between Rhaenyra and Alicent, old playmates with unspoken grudges, now desperate to prove they could be a better, more adequate influence in your life

>Willfully ignoring your young age, and the fact you'll likely forget half of whatever they say by the time you're ten, what matter is that even when Daemon takes you away, you'll be able to remember one of them with particular fondness

>It was the truth, a hard and bitter truth, that you'd have to eventually leave, everyone looking for excuses to give to Daemon once he arrived, in order to keep you around longer, maybe indefinitely

>Alicent felt uneasy when thinking of stealing you away from your sire, as much as she disliked Daemon, and believed you'd be much better off being raised as hers, along with her children, you clearly loved him, you drew pictures and saved "treasures" to give to him once he returned

>You also used to ask about Rhea, no one had the heart to tell you, but still fearing the crude words your father would use to tell you of her passing, after all, Rhea was still "his bronze bitch". Finally, it was Viserys who had to break the news to you, he was considerate and comforting, even explaining how his parents and former wife passed away as well, and how he still carries them in his heart

>You lacked the proper cognitive development to fully process it, but it made you sad you were never to see Rhea again, this made you even closer to Viserys

>Alicent wondered if there was a possibility of offering one of his son's hands, if that would make you stay, she certainly wouldn't be displeased to have as a daughter in law, Rhaenyra did the same, after all, wasn't the heir to the iron throne a much better match?

>But the day finally came, where you had to leave

>Your father forsook his crown as King of the narrow sea to Viserys, who humorously put the crown on your little head, and named you princess of the narrow sea

>With the crown falling to your forehead due to its size, you hugged your father as soon as you saw him, with giggles and words of affection, as much as it endeared them, it broke everyone's heart to remember how your time in the red keep was nothing but extraordinary. Viserys thanked the seven no one could hear his thoughts, it would be improper for a king to wish for war, just to keep his baby niece around

>This moment created a long string of creative bards singing about Y/N Targaryen, princess of the narrow sea, queen of hearts

>It was finally time for you to go to leave, Laena was ecstatic to take you with her after meeting you for the first time, but she was a smart girl and noticed she was taking away something very precious

>But celebrations had passed and it was time to go

>You lived in Pentos for the next 10 years of your life, with your father, step-mother and little sisters, Rhaena and Baela

>Daemon was not so happy to take you to King's Landing for different events, however, Laena said it was good for you to be around your cousins and nephews, good for the twins as well

>And she said that since you had your own dragon, it's best to just, it'd be better for you to not feel trapped, otherwise one day you'll just get on dragonback and do as you please

>Daemon did not like the idea of you ever leaving or having enough independence to just hop on a dragon and leave, but he understood his wife was right

>When Laena lightheartedly told the prince of Pentos that he must only ask if he wished to marry one of the girls, Daemon grimaced in his classic unsubtle fashion

>You and your sisters were excitedly ogling the new dragon egg that was meant for your sibling

>One night, Rhaena came to your room looking for comfort, she feared her new little brother or sister would have a great dragon like Vhagar, or swift as Moondancer and then she'd be left alone

>You had Dagahrion, and Baela had Moondancer, both dragons were bonded with you since birth, but Rhaena's died shortly after hatching. She was given another egg, that sadly had not even hatched

>According to the dragonkeepers, Dagahrion still needed a little more time before you could safely ride, and Moondancer had a long way to go.

>Dagahrion and Moondancer were polar opposites, where Moondancer was small, slender and agile, with lightly coloured pale sage green scales and pearl horns, Dagahrion was growing larger by the day, heavy and mighty, with black scales that shone like a green tourmaline in the sun, and dark laurel colored horns. The dragons would often play together, and were called "the greyhound and the mastiff"

>Rhaena feared her bond with you would be outshined by the future races and sky stunts you and Baela would share. And when Aemond took Vhagar, it felt even worse

>After Laena's death, you had lost a mother again. You deeply mourned her, but you felt a different kind of sadness watching Rhaenys coddle the girls in the funeral, and Corlys telling Lucerys he'd be the lord of Driftmark. Rhaenys had you on her embrace as well, but the looks on you had brought a bitter truth to your attention, one that was nonexistent in Pentos, and swept under the rug in King's Landing. You were a bastard. The whimsical melodies about the princess of the narrow sea, had made you forget the princess was born illegitimate

>You were now 13, and the stares and whispers your family shielded you from, were words much easier to put together, faces much easier to see

>The lords and ladies gossiped when everyone ran to hug you before the true orphans, you felt guilty

>"Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the coast" said Vaemon. You smiled through the pain

>Your father started laughing to try and shut him up, it worked

>It also pained you to reunite with your beloved playmates, and see Aegon, your azantys, who you admired, now turned into a creep. He hugged you longer than he did with anyone else, but his hands lingered in a way you couldn't enjoy

>Lucerys and Jacaerys were there with you and your sisters, just like you could see the look thrown at you, you could see them being thrown the way of the Velaryon brothers. You didn't talk much, but you enjoyed their company

>Aemond tried to latch onto you and take you to where his family was, but after some time you had to return to your sisters, he didn't like that

>Helaena was just like you remembered her, she was still ever so gentle and had so many things to tell you about her bugs

>But some of her words were now cryptic to you

>"My dear Y/N, dragon in the flesh, do not believe the dragons in thread" she kept repeating, not even looking at you

>You slept in the room that was meant for your father, he hadn't returned yet. You slept in the second bed in that room rather than with the other children, you wanted to cry, but wanted to appear strong for your sisters, so you preferred to be away for the night

>However, the ruckus woke you up, Aemond stole Vhagar, and Lucerys made him lose an eye

>Jacaerys told you about the "hilarious" time they gave Aemond a pig, you silently reprimanded them, you didn't find it funny, but to go and steal Rhaena's last connection to her mother?

>Vhagar was not a heirloom, not a thing, but Rhaena deserved a chance to try to tame her before others did

>You were upset, however tried to stay at Aemond's side, after all, he was the one who lost an eye

>At least until you heard your nephew. "He called us bastards", you looked at him with a sad, disappointed expression before completely (and literally) turning your back on him to go console your sisters

>Rhaena was the most affected, her connection to her late mother, and to her sisters, was stolen by Aemond. In the moment, she feared Aemond would steal you away too, you seemed to be fond of him, and the queen would often tell stories of how close you were with her children. Losing you to Baela was one thing, she was her twin, and you would be within reach, but Aemond?

>Aemond was true to his words when he said gaining a dragon was worth losing an eye

>But he wasn't so sure it was worth losing you

#yandere daemon targaryen #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere targaryens #yandere aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader

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thisismeracing · 6 months

Text

Pretty Liar | LN4 (Patreon exclusive)

― Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader ― Word count: 5.6k ― Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol; +18! graphic description of sex (p in v, oral - both, fem and male receiving). ― Summary: Ever since Lando was a kid he knew his future would bring fame somehow, always involved with racing and having just what it needed to become a Formula 1 driver, he was happy with everything it entailed, up until said future became his present and he realized there was also a rough side to the fame. That’s why, when he found you – someone who had no idea who he was, he kept his career from you. He would tell you, and he would eventually clarify the situation, he had it all planned, however, all it took was one week. One week for you to discover that what you thought started as a beautiful story, was actually a perfectly told lie. Lando was pretty, but he was also a liar. Now he had to find a way to explain everything, and you had to find it in you to forgive him.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Some scientists believe that it takes around ten minutes for an average person to make an everyday decision. Yet, the moment Yn’s eyes met Lando’s, and he smiled at her, she knew they would go home together that night, and this exchange took less than a second.

His face seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember where. She thought maybe it was from an old Instagram post their friends in common had made. Maybe they saw each other in a pub before. The city wasn’t that big, their crowds were similar, and they were both young.

Lando seemed surprised with the news, “You don’t…know me?”

“Should I?” Yn asks, quirking her eyebrows with a glimmer of humor in her stare.

He shook his head before Oliver, their common friend, could say something, “Nah, it’s just…I’m a DJ, I thought maybe you had seen something about me around a party you know?!”

Yn bit her lower lip, chuckling. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you must be a great DJ, but I’ve never heard of a Lando Norris before.”

“Now I’m hurt,” the Brit turned to their friend, and Oliver’s laugh boomed around.

That was how their first interaction went, with both aware of the tension line being pulled. Lando had never seen someone match his energy like she did, and Yn had never felt that giddy with a guy before. When someone grabbed Oliver away, the speakers gave space to a remixed tune of Zedd and Yn asked what Lando was playing that night, or if he was playing at all.

He smiled at her showing the small gap between his teeth which she decided was one of her favorite features of his, after his eyes, “It depends. What do you want me to play?”

“Oooh, smooth, I like it!” she giggled, taking a sip of her drink, and using the seconds to breathe in some air. “Would you mind playing Rihanna?”

“Most recent ones or oldies?”

“Around 2010s would be perfect.”

“I know exactly the song,” he announced like a promise, and Yn nodded, grabbing his hand, lacing their fingers, and starting to head in the direction of the bar. It would be an hour or so until the pub’s DJ finished his thing.

“Do you wanna drink something?” Yn stopped to say in his ears now that the song seemed much louder and so did the crowd. Lando’s free hand grabbed her waist, and he shouted back that he had just grabbed his refill, but he was fine going with her.

Truth was, Lando didn’t even like the bar area that much, drunk people would tend to gather there sometimes, spill their alcohol, scream, and try creating scenes, but something about Yn’s eyes would make him follow her to hell, and they had just met. That felt a tad scary, but he wouldn’t think too much about it, trying to focus his mind on Danny’s words about enjoying the butterflies, enjoying the naivety, and enjoying the nerves that came with it.

**********************

“I still gotta learn how to bake properly.”

“We could try together. I know a thing or two about sugary recipes,” she suggested. “Meanwhile, you cook the main dish and I make the dessert—” she stopped mid-sentence, putting the palm of her hand on her forehead. “We forgot about dessert, Lan!”

But the pilot can only grin, watching in awe as her lips pout slightly.

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” her tone started with a confused hint, but when their eyes met and Yn caught the way his gaze drifted across her body like a caress bringing a shiver along. Her legs instinctively crossed in search of the slight tinge of pressure.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” his grin was wicked, and the way his head pointed to the space in front of him at the table almost made Yn whimper. Lando pushed the plate and glass to the side, watching as Yn got up and walked to him. The noises of the city came through the open windows, just like the cold wind, creating the perfect harmony with the way her bare steps hit the ground, the slight sound coming from it.

The legs of Lando’s chair scraped on the ground when he pushed it just a tiny bit to make room for Yn. She sat on his lap, legs on either side of him, caging him in place, and giving him the feeling of her bare cunt against his dress pants.

“Aren’t you wearing anything under the dress?” he asked, mocking shock on his expression.

Yn merely shook her head, “It would just ruin it anyway.”

And just like that cooking conversations and random subjects were long forgotten, their lips smashed together in a heated kiss, and Yn moaned into his mouth when Lando gripped her waist and guided her movements on top of him, his cock hardening with each motion.

*****************

“Come in my mouth,” she rasped, it sounded like a plea, and Lando couldn’t help but give it to her. At that moment he would give her anything and everything she asked for. The way her eyes blinked at him from between his legs, mascara a bit smudged on her cheeks, lips swollen from sucking, she looked like an angel.

And he couldn’t deny an angel its request.

So when her mouth enveloped him again, cheeks hollowing and tongue twirling Lando gripped the table, hips buckling slightly and body finally succumbing to pleasure. He watched as his cum leaked from her mouth, his dick still spurting the white liquid and making it land on her chin and collarbone.

Yn grinned up at him, licking her lips.

He scooped cum from her chin using his finger and she eagerly opened her mouth, sucking his thumb and smiling up at him again. At that moment, he wanted them to be intimate enough, so he could grab a camera and save that image. Frame it. Store it under locks. Have it with him forever. Something about the way she looked and what they had just done stirred his insides again.

“Can I have mine now?” he scooped more cum this time from her collarbone and Yn nodded, parting her lips to him again.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this piece. I've been meaning to write a long piece for Lan for a while now, and it felt good to put this together, I'm looking forward to writing more for him, let me know if you wanna see it! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading and beta-reading this (Ily, Dee!).

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beejunos · 2 months

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SINNERMAN | Alastor x f.reader | part 1.

Summary: After Sir Pentious's failed attempt at spying on the hotel, the Vees approach you to make a new deal—a deal that you can't refuse. Help them take down Alastor, and you will get to kill him again.

After all, the great butcher of New Orleans had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. And you would love to do it again.

Tags: Alastor x f!reader, slow burn, obsessive behaviour, enemies to lovers, spying, murder

PART 1. | AO3 | PART 2.

Chapter 1. The Deal

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Hell was not just a place where souls who had done horrific things with pleasure went, but also with people who had done appalling things out of necessity. Murderers, thieves, abusers and, growing more in numbers every year, politicians - hell was not a place for the weak-minded, but sometimes a human could be pushed into such acts, not because they themselves were more inclined to such behaviour, but because circumstance could turn anyone into a bloodthirsty killer.

You were one of those people.

Condemned to Hell for an eternity for a crime that you still believed to be justifiable. After all, the great butcher of New Orleans killed your brother, so it was only fair that you killed him in return.

"I told you it was a bad idea to pick that idiot to spy on the hotel. Did you honestly think it would work?" said Velvet without looking up from her phone. She was typing something with rapid-fire as she blew a bubble with her pink gum. It made a big popping sound that seemed to echo in the living room, making Vox clench his fist so as not to destroy the desk again. They had just replaced the last desk after he had dug his claws into it and left deep and long marks in the wood, and he did not feel like getting yelled at again for ruining the decor.

Vox counted to ten slowly backwards before he turned around from the monitors to look at the short woman. She was sitting curled up on the sofa before him, dressed in luxurious loungewear with hearts all over it. Valentino was sitting stretched out right beside her, his arm casually on the backrest. He was on his phone as well and did not look up when Vox came closer, but Vox could see that he was also irritated by Velvet's comment from the slight twitching of his right eye.

"Well, Velvet, my dear," Vox said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don't remember you having a better idea, but please, if you do, share it with the group."

Vox stopped walking as he reached the sofa, hands behind his back, and leaned down in front of the female sinner to force her to look at him. He had never been good with others ignoring him, and Velvet was taking her sweet time finishing her text before she even looked up from her phone. When she met his eyes, electricity was firing between his antennas, filling the air with static noise.

She just sighed before she picked up her phone again and started typing.

"You picked an idiot; that's why your plan didn't work. Little Miss Sunshine will believe anyone; just pick a smarter spy next time," said Velvet in her heavy British accent, popping another bubble with her gum. Vox's irritation grew with every word she uttered, and for a moment, he entertained the thought of grabbing her phone and throwing it out the window.

"And who do you suggest we'll ask?"

It took Velvet a few more seconds of searching before she found a decent photo, and then she turned her phone and showed Vox who she had in mind. The photo was old and blurry, with its subject in the distance, but it was still possible to distinguish who was in the picture. Vox turned his piercing gaze from Velvet down to her phone and quickly stepped back.

"You can't be serious!"

"Who?" said Valentino, now interested, as Vox started to pace the room. Velvet turned her phone towards the moth demon, and he reared back in alarm. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you even know how expensive she is?"

"So what? If you want the job done well, then pay a fucking professional," stated Velvet as if it was apparent.

"Professional? She runs a PR firm! Glorified party whores. Why the fuck should she be the spy?" cried Valentino, throwing his arms in the air. The gesture would have made anyone in his studio flinch, waiting for an impact, but Velvet sat rooted in her seat. She was used to the man's physical displays of anger by now but never feared them since he would never dare lay a hand on her. She lifted one of her eyebrows and continued with her argument:

"Didn't you see the fucking joke of an interview the princess did on the news? The hotel has a serious marketing problem. Everyone thinks it's a joke! What if the princess had someone to help her with the marketing and networking? Someone she would trust wholeheartedly, and that person worked secretly for us? It would be the best fucking spy! Not a guest but a staff member who could manipulate everything from the inside. We would know everything. A staff member would also be with the princess all the time and could keep an eye out for Alastor to make sure that no deal is made!"

Valentino groaned loudly before throwing his phone on the coffee table. He knew that Velvet's argument was good; he just did not like how expensive it would become if they went with it. There was a reason only the top of the elite of hell hired this PR firm, and it wasn't just for the public relations part. Rumours were travelling around the underground networks that you also dealt with some shady businesses, but who weren’t in this town?

"Can't we just kill them ourselves? I still want to shoot someone," mumbled Valentino, knowing none of his partners would accept the idea.

"And what? Piss of Lucifer for attacking his daughter? We could just piss on our own graves instead! If we pay her, we know she will get the job done; after all, you've heard the rumours, right?"

"What rumours?" snarled Valentino, sinking deeper into the sofa. His night was now officially ruined.

"No one hates Alastor more than she does."

"Well, that's not new! Half the city hates the old-timey prick." Vox, who had been pacing back and forth deep in his thoughts, abruptly stopped and turned around to look at Velvet. He also highly doubted anyone could hate the radio demon more than he did, but that was beside the point.

"So, let's use that to our advantage," said Velvet, growing more frustrated by the minute, "She is bound to at least be interested in the job if we can convince her to take down Alastor with us."

It wasn't a dumb idea, which annoyed Vox the most. However, his desire to take down Alastor outweighed any concerns for costs. He was prepared to cut his own leg off with a rusty saw if it meant he could take down the demon that plagued his very existence.

Vox sighed and crossed his arms in front of him, effectively giving up on arguing against Velvet.

"Okay, how do we contact her?"

On the opposite side of the entertainment district, where the Vees residence was located, was a small part of the pride ring where the older architecture still stood. The sinners who lived there were usually the ones who had stayed in hell the longest, many of whom had lived during the 18th and 19th centuries. There were fewer flashing lights and billboards in this part of town, but that did not mean that the sinners who lived there were anti-technology—for the most part.

That was why you liked living in this part of Pride, being from the early 20th century yourself. There were no loud noises, and during the night, you would, on more occasions than not, get a good night's sleep. Compared to the entertainment district, where no one seemed to sleep ever.

Your PR firm was located on the top floor of an old Gothic Revival building in the centre of this district. With its intricate stone details and towering spires, the building could feel almost cluttered and overwhelming on the outside. However, the rooms were spacious and elegant, with large stained-glass windows that cast colourful lights throughout the building.

You loved your office building and its moody exterior and interior. It made you feel like a character in one of the gothic novels that you had only learned to appreciate after your death. You could also argue that the whole thing had been influenced by the fact that when you had died and woken up in hell, your soul had taken the form of a bat. Reminding you of the book Dracula that your mother had loved so much, but that was irrelevant.

Walking around dusty old stone buildings, surrounding yourself with heavy wooden furniture and thick dark fabrics worked much better with the wings, big pointy ears, claws, and razor-sharp teeth you had now.

You had tried in the beginning to surround yourself with things that reminded you of the time you had been alive, but as time ticked on and the years went by, you could not help but leave most of the 20s and 30s behind and welcome the new ages, and all their inventions and quirks, with somewhat open arms. Your youngest assistant, a young sinner named Claudine, who died at the age of 25 in 2015, talked a lot about how similar social media in hell was to when she was alive, but considering the things she liked to show you, social media was one of the inventions you did not have any interests in. Your people could handle it for you instead, and if the three overlords that had strolled into your office like they owned the building were running the biggest tech and social media company in pride, you would happily leave that responsibility to Claudine.

Vox, Velvet, and Valentino were indeed a sight to behold. A poor sight for you. Their fashion and colourful clothing clashed horribly with your moss-green couch.

It was always a satisfying experience to observe new customers arrive at your office. However, this time, you could not help but wish they would just leave.

You put down the silver tray you held, with all the teacups and the teapot, on your mahogany coffee table and sat in the armchair on the opposite side of the sofa. Slowly, you started to pour the tea from the pot into the small and thin teacups before handing the first to Velvet.

"Suger?" you asked, opening the lid to the sugar bowl.

"Yes, please," she said, putting two sugar cubes in her tea. The smaller sinner grabbed one of the tiny spoons before she started to stir her tea, making the spoon hit the side of the teacup. The clinking sound seemed to bounce around the room endlessly. She may not have the most refined manners, according to you, but you suspected that she was the one who had wanted to see you in the first place since she was the one who was behaving the best.

"I must say, I was quite surprised when my assistant said that the Vees were waiting in my office." You took one sip of your tea that had one sugar cube and a dash of milk in it. "It is not often that I get these types of unplanned visits unless someone is in dire need of their reputation being saved, and last time I checked, you three had your own PR team."

"We are here because we are interested in your more niche skill sets."

Now, that was far more interesting. You had a sense that the Vees were not here for what your company offered on the outside but more for what you could provide that was strictly off the records.

You looked over at Vox, who had spoken. Waiting for him to continue.

It did not take the sinner long to tell you their plan and why they had decided to contact you specifically. Hell was filled with sinners and demons who said they specialised in espionage or assassinations, and although they could get the job done, more often than not, these "professionals" would leave long traces of evidence behind, which didn't matter in the end since hell did not have any justice system to speak of, but if you wanted to be undetected, it wasn't the best solution. However, you took your job seriously and worked with the utmost discretion, which led to you now holding almost the same amount of power as any overlord in pride. The big difference between you and the other overlords was that your capabilities were mostly unknown, and that's how you wanted it. It made it easier for you to work in the shadows. To hunt and kill without anyone knowing they were being hunted.

Only two overlords, Carmilla Carmine and Zestial, knew of your strengths and often hired you to deal with others they did not have time for or wanted to make time for. Yet, if the Vees knew about this side of your work, that meant the information about your skill sets was being spread around a bit more frequently than you wanted it. But that didn't worry you too much since you could always have Claudine and Earl fix it in just a few days.

"That is not a small task you have asked of me. To take down another demon is one thing, but to take down an overlord? Who also works for the princess? Now, why would I ever do that?"

"We're not asking you to take down the princess. Only Alastor," said Velvet, putting a hand on Vox's arm. The man had started leaning forward unconsciously, his fists closing up with every second.

Alastor. There was no man on earth or in hell that you hated more, and you would gladly watch him bleed to death, forgotten and alone in the forest again. After all, he had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. But things had changed. He now possessed a form of power that you had never seen in another sinner in all your years in hell, and it made you pause. You knew that as soon as he found out what you had done, he would avenge his death, and you were not sure that you would survive that. So you stayed in the shadows, bidding your time.

"Either way, we are not asking you to take him down alone. We want you to ensure no deal is struck between that radio freak and the princess. Find his weaknesses and help us take him down." Vox had the sort of manic look about him that you only saw in souls who were consumed by their obsessions, making him unreliable and reckless. But a deal like this did not come to you often, the type of deal that made you believe that you could kill Alastor again, and you never looked a gift horse in the mouth.

"Very well, I will help you, but it will cost you. Five hundred souls."

"Dea-"

You did not let Vox finish before saying, "Each."

"Each? Bitch, are you out of your mind?" roared Valentino, who had been quiet up till now. Even if the other Vees did not start shouting like the moth daemon, they were equally shocked and angered by your demand.

"My prices have always been high. Take it or leave it." You looked over at Vox, staring him down. You knew he would be the first to crack and agree to your demands. Velvet may have been the driving force that had led the Vees to your office, but she was still too rational and would start to bargain with you. Vox would sooner or later let his obsession win, making him agree to your deal.

"Do we have a deal?" You reached out your hand to Vox, trying to corner him and push him into a contract with you.

Before Velvet or Valentino had the chance to stop him, Vox shot forward and took your hand, and as he uttered the words that would sign their contract, an eerie green light filled the room. Cracks travelled up the walls all around you as the howling of hunting dogs travelled with the wind that started to blow in the office. Large shadows of the hunting dogs began to grow on the walls, their red eyes fixing the Vees in their places and right as the dogs would pause and devour the sinners on your sofa, the green light dissolved, and all that was left was the four of you in your office.

"Always a pleasure doing business with new customers," you chuckled, letting your sinister smile dance on your lips.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #sinnerman alastor fic

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theladyofbloodshed · 4 months

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Chapter 1

Notes: This is set after the canon events of ACOSF when Nesta and Cassian go to the Prison. Instead of opening the wards to the cells, she ends up in Lunathion. Bryce doesn't exist in this universe and no magic language beans are required.

Nesta could not do more than twitch her fingertips as an invisible, oppressive weight bore into her, like it’d flatten her into dust upon the starry ground of the strange chamber in the Prison.

Let go, she silently bade the Harp, gritting her teeth, fingers brushing over the nearest string. Free me, you blasted thing.

A beautiful, haughty voice answered, full of music so lovely it broke her heart to hear it. I do not appreciate your tone.

With that the Harp pushed into her harder, and Nesta roared silently. Her nail scraped over the string again. Let me go!

Gone was Cassian’s voice. He was kept out by the wards, witnessing it all.

Shall I open a door for you, then?

Yes! Damn you, yes!

It has been a long while, sister, since I played. I shall need time to remember the right combinations…

Don’t play games. Nesta chilled at the word it had used. Sister. Like she and this thing were one and the same.

The small strings are for games—light movement and leaping—but the longer, the final ones … Such deep wonders and horrors we could strum into being. Such great and monstrous magic I wrought with my last minstrel. Shall I show you?

No. Just let me out.

As you wish. Pluck the first string, then.

Nesta didn’t hesitate as her fingertip curled over the first string, grasping and then releasing it. A musical laugh filled her mind, but the weight lifted. Vanished.

And then everything swirled around her like she was being sucked down a plughole into a vast emptiness. The stars on the floor span, turning white with their speed.

Nesta clung to the Harp as wind whipped her face. She was falling – but into what, she didn’t know. It reminded her of the Cauldon, that endless dark, the never-ending cold. Nesta drifted through space and time until she plummeted downwards.

Her body hit stone, taking the wind out of her.

Nesta blinked, trying to right herself. The lights around her were blurred but there was noise – chatter and distant music.

A bright light came towards her. A long, blaring sound pierced her ears. There was a screech and the light stopped feet from her body curled on the stone.

‘What the fuck,’ came a female voice.

Something slammed and footsteps sounded. ‘Are you alright? I nearly hit you. You landed in the middle of the road.’

‘Move back. Official 33rd business,’ a male voice said.

Nesta was shaking. The bright lights were still in her eyes. Her hip and leg throbbed from the landing.

‘She’s armed, Hunt,’ somebody said.

The male who’d spoken gave a wearied sigh. ‘Ten minutes left of our shift and a fae has to leap in front of a car.’ He stepped closer to her. ‘Hands up. Don’t reach for the sword.’

Something silver and metallic was pointed at her by his hands. The male was fae. Or, looked it. He had wings similar to the Peregryn that she’d met in the Dawn Court with beautiful, grey feathers. Across his brow was a tattoo. Sable hair hung to his shoulders. The other male was slightly shorter with white feathers and fair hair.

Neither was dressed like anybody she’d seen before. Their clothes reminded her slightly of Illyrian leathers but the materials were different.

Nesta looked around, now that her eyes had adjusted to the light. Nobody was dressed in familiar clothing. People had small rectangles in their hands bearing lights and sounds. The fair haired male tutted and started moving them off, saying she was not a spectacle.

‘I’m going to need you to slide that sword over to me in its sheath. Do you understand?’

Where was she? This wasn’t Prythian.

Where are we?

The Harp refused to respond to her, going mute in this strange, new world.

‘Hey,’ the male with grey wings said, not unkindly. ‘Slide it over now.’

Slowly, Nesta reached for Ataraxia and pushed it across the smooth stone towards him. He kept his metal object pointed at her as he bent down and slung her sword over a shoulder.

‘Now your instrument.’

The other male had returned and collected that. He turned it from side to side, examining it. The first handed the sword to him. ‘Fly those to Vik. Get her to run her tests on them. I’ll bring her in.’

***

Ten minutes. That was all they had left after seven days straight. Hunt was looking forward to a glorious day off but Logan had said they should walk back to the 33rd rather than fly. If they flew, they still likely would have seen a female fall from the sky, but they could have pretended it didn’t happen and finished their shift on time. Now, it meant hours of questioning plus paperwork for what he guessed was an undocumented fae who’d rocked up in Lunathion.

The female in question seemed compliant thus far. Hunt hadn’t cuffed her. She was a skinny thing that couldn’t overpower him. From the spike of her ears, she was fae, not human. After basic questioning, they’d likely call in the captain of the aux from the fae side – and Hunt planned to be in his bed by then. Technically, this female had done nothing wrong except fall from the sky with a sword and nearly be hit by a car. It was strange enough though that Micah would demand their heads if they hadn’t brought her in. He was off in the north, summoned by the Asteri. Peace for once.

‘Where are you taking me?’

He kept his hand clasped around her upper arm as they walked. ‘To the 33rd.’

She frowned. ‘The 33rd what?’

Hunt glanced at her. ‘Legion.’

How had she never heard of the 33rd? Who the hell was this?

‘Are you fae?’

She must have hit her head hard. Hunt ushered her along, surveying her for obvious injuries as they went. ‘No. Malakim. Definitely not fae.’

Her silver eyes stared at him then at the ground, processing something. A med-witch would need to see her to remove her concussion.

Hunt led her to one of their interrogation rooms. The white walls looked yellow beneath the lights and she shielded her eyes from it. It was protocol to at least chain her to the table to prevent her from running, but from the bewildered expression on her face, Hunt couldn’t do it.

‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘Coffee?’

‘I’ll get you a coffee,’ he said, offering a tight smile as he backed out of the room.

He met Isaiah in the corridor.

‘Viktoria’s already working on the items. Both are definitely imbued with magic,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘Logan’s filled me in. Fell from the sky?’

‘Yup. Literally.’ Hunt pressed the coffee cup into his hand. ‘I don’t think she knows what coffee is so good luck.’

Isaiah gave a short laugh. ‘Do you think she’s one of the Avallen Fae?’

‘I have no fucking clue where she is from. Another planet by the looks of things.’

Naomi was waiting behind the interrogation room, computer at the ready. Hunt waited behind the screen of glass too as Isaiah introduced himself and put the cup of coffee in front of her. From the thin frame, Hunt should have grabbed her a snack too. She wore leathers like she was about to do battle. The sword would explain that too – but not the instrument. It seemed to be a common theme that swords were toted by pricks in Lunathion, however this female seemed not too bad so far.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Nesta.’

‘A last name?’

‘Archeron.’

Naomi’s fingers flew over the keyboard. ‘Not a single Archeron in history. Or a Nesta.’

‘I don’t think she’s lying,’ Hunt murmured. It would be a strange name to make up. Better if she gave a common one.

Isaiah spoke gently. ‘What house are you aligned with, Nesta?’

Nesta blinked a few times then, ‘Uh. The House of Wind.’

There was another click of keys beside him then Naomi drew a blank again.

‘What can your magic do?’

‘I don’t have magic.’

‘Why do you have a magical Harp?’

‘I’m a bard.’

The delivery was so flat from Nesta that Hunt couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

Isaiah’s wings flexed at the table. ‘Will you play for me?’

Nesta inspected her nails. ‘I don’t play for free.’

‘What’s the sword for?’

‘When people don’t pay me,’ she quipped.

This female had woken up and found her dry sense of humour then. Hunt examined her through the glass. She didn’t look like the fae of Lunathion. The majority had the same colouring as the king – red hair, tanned skin. Others were brown-haired. The prince was a rarity with black hair, but not unheard of. It tended to be the Avallen fae who were blonde. She certainly fitted the description for now with a limited knowledge of technology; she’d stared at everybody’s cell-phones with utmost confusion. But even Avallen fae knew how to use technology when they left their misty isles.

‘Which king did you pledge allegiance to?’

At that, Nesta gave a harsh laugh. ‘None of them and I never will.’

‘Who is the king of Avallen?’

‘Fionn,’ she said, brandishing her hands in the air with disinterest.

‘Danaan is here,’ a voice said over the intercom. ‘Sending him down.’

Ruhn Danaan was captain of the fae auxiliary unit and exemplified what it meant to be a fae prick. One day, he’d also be their king. And Hunt could not stand him.

He swaggered in, tongue flicking against his lip-ring. ‘This better be good, Athalar.’

Hunt gestured to Nesta Archeron currently stonewalling Isaiah as he attempted to interrogate her on her origins.

‘Don’t know her,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Wish I did.’

‘Is she one of the Avallen fae?’

‘No idea,’ replied Ruhn in a blasé tone. Hunt could stink alcohol on him. Likely the prince had been with his little pals doing what they did best and partying until dawn.

Sensing his frustrations, Naomi stepped in. ‘She fell from the sky. There’s no record of her family name in the history of Midgard. Nesta isn’t aligned to any house, seemingly has no knowledge of Lunathion. She cannot name either fae king – but did mention Fionn. She came with a sword imbued with magic – and a Harp.’

Ruhn finally took notice. He leaned closer to the glass, nose almost touching it. ‘Her eyes are silver.’

‘A fascinating conclusion, Danaan.’

‘Let me talk to her.’

It was Isaiah’s call so he allowed the prince into the interrogation room, claiming that not only was he fae royalty which gave Ruhn a pass to do what he liked in the city, but also a member of the aux. When he entered, Nesta knew him. Her eyes went wide then she stared down at her lap, murmuring something to herself.

‘Hi,’ said Ruhn who turned the chair around and leant his chest against the back. ‘Your coffee’s going cold.’

Nesta raised the cup to her mouth to take a sip then promptly spat it back out. ‘That’s vile.’

‘Need sugar?’

She folded her arms across her body. Anybody else would have called for their lawyer now or asked what they were being charged with. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Nesta seemed more interested in the security camera and even the lights above her head.

‘Are you high fae?’ she asked Ruhn.

‘I’m fae,’ he said. ‘Vanir. What other Vanir do you know?’

Nesta swallowed. Eventually, she suggested, ‘Illyrians?’

Ruhn gave an encouraging nod and lied that he knew them. Beside Hunt, Naomi was doing her best to search for the term.

‘Who else?’

‘Peregryns.’

‘Yeah. Peregryns.’ Ruhn gave another nod. ‘Those big birds that brought you to the 33rd. What are they?’

‘Malakim.’

Which she only knew because Hunt had told her.

‘What’s Sabine?’

‘I don’t know her,’ she replied.

Well, shit. She definitely was not from Lunathion because everybody knew Sabine, unfortunately. Naomi’s laptop made a pinging sound. ‘Toxicology report. Nothing in her system. Not even a drop of alcohol. Definitely no drugs.’

On arrival, the on-duty med-witch had given her a once over but had not found any major injuries beyond a few bruises from her heavy landing.

Isaiah drummed his fingers on his watch face. ‘We can’t hold her for anything. By rights, we’ve held her longer than necessary with nothing to charge her for.’

‘She’s clearly not from here.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I’m reluctant to call Micah back until we have full specs on the items that she brought with her.’

‘We can keep those for a week,’ said Naomi.

Ruhn emerged from the room, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his long, black hair. ‘She’s fae. Definitely. No idea where she’s from though.’ Ruhn pulled out his cell.

‘Calling daddy?’

He threw Hunt a grin. ‘Not a chance. I’ll keep her at mine.’

‘No,’ said Hunt with a snort. ‘Do you think we’ll hand over a disorientated female to you and your little pals?’

‘Careful with what you’re insinuating, angel.’

Isaiah cleared his throat. ‘Until we know more, Nesta Archeron is a free citizen of Lunathion, not under anyone’s jurisdiction.’

‘She’s fae,’ Ruhn insisted. ‘She answers to my father.’

‘You didn’t hear her, Danaan,’ Hunt said, fighting the grin from his face. ‘She’s pledged allegiance to no king and never will.’

‘Hunt, discharge her. Ruhn, I wonder if you could take a look at the sword,’ asked Isaiah, guiding the prince out of the room.

Hunt cared little for the fae but he wasn’t going to send a lone female who had no clue where she was to the Ruhn Danaan home for parties and orgies. He took up Ruhn’s vacated seat, also sitting backwards on it at the table. Nesta watched him closely.

‘How do you know Ruhn?’

‘I don’t,’ she replied, voice clipped.

‘You looked like you did.’

Nesta furrowed her brow. ‘I thought he was somebody else.’

Hunt nodded his head towards the cup. ‘You didn’t like my coffee?’

‘It was foul.’

‘Oof. No offence taken.’ He began writing out her discharge forms, explaining them to her as he wrote. It would go under a section two; the 33rd reserved the right to question any citizen at any time without reason or without consequence. Anybody from Lunathion would have kicked up a fuss over how long they’d been held for. This one had no cell, no purse, no identification, literally nothing on her person so she likely didn’t know her rights. ‘You can collect your items in a week.’

That was if they found nothing they could charge her for.

‘A week? I need the Harp.’

‘Playing in a tavern?’

Hunt glanced up at her then jerked back. Her eyes were swirling. They looked as if silver flames were trapped within, writhing to get to the surface.

‘You’re free to go, Nesta. I’ll see you out.’

The walk out of the Comitium was just as interesting. The most inane technology snagged her attention. At the coffee machine, she came to a halt to stare at it in wonder then in the waiting room, her eyes catalogued the television screens, jaw hanging open.

‘Don’t worry. You won’t miss Fangs and Bangs.’

Nesta opened her mouth to say something then the phone rang in the office. That also hooked her attention. She was child-like in her wonder as a malakh answered the phone.

‘That device allows you to communicate?’

Hunt touched two fingers to her forehead. The temperature seemed fine. ‘Try and see a med-witch. Have them check you over for concussion.’

He held the door open for her as she stumbled off into the blackness, just as perplexed as she’d been when they’d found her in the road.

Nesta wasn’t Hunt’s duty. His shift should have ended two hours ago. He was a slave, but a slave who could be off-duty – especially when Micah was out of town. Yet, he couldn’t stop the sense of dread from clawing in his chest as he watched Nesta amble aimlessly into the night.

This female would cause him a headache.

***

Seven days.

Nesta needed to survive seven days with only the clothes on her back in this strange city. There were worse places that she could have arrived to. The dungeon had not truly been a dungeon. It lacked the prowling beasts of the Hewn City. The only issue had been how bright the lights were. They hadn��t been the faelights that Rhysand conjured.

There were more lights hanging from towering metal poles on the smooth roads. There were still many out in the darkness but not all of them were fae. Some were like animals with cloven hooves instead of feet or caprine horns that jutted out from their hair.

Nesta didn’t know what to make of it.

She’d left Cassian calling her name in the Prison. Now she was in Lunathion. Wherever that was.

The city was so noisy.

Nesta needed space to think and to breathe so she fought her way out of the densest areas of the city towards a massive river. The sounds of it calmed her. She crossed over it, into the darker area where it felt more peaceful. Nesta sucked in breaths, thinking of Gwyn and her teachings to focus on the inhales and exhales and nothing else. That was easier said than done in a foreign land with no allies, no weapons, and no way back to Velaris.

Something was moving across the bridge towards her.

It made her skin prickle.

It wasn’t walking. It was gliding.

Her hand reached over her shoulder for the pommel of her sword and remembered it had been taken.

The creature made a low, gurling sound from the back of its throat then reached out a grey hand stripped of flesh in places.

Nesta backed up a step, but more were behind her, moving in that same eerie way without a sound.

The air went static.

A bolt of lightning hit the ground which forced one of the creatures to retreat.

The male who’d chaperoned her to the Comitium landed between her and the bulk of the creatures. Lightning wreathed his hands. His hair rose from the static.

‘You will not feast this night.’

Hunt jerked his chin at her, summoning Nesta to him. An arm clamped around her shoulders then he pushed off from the floor. As they lifted off, his other arm swooped beneath the back of her knees.

The motion was surprisingly fluid. Nesta did what she always did if Cassian flew her and put her arms around his neck for support.

‘What were they?’

‘Reapers,’ he replied. ‘I’m guessing you don’t have them where you come from.’

‘We have creatures just as foul.’

‘Yeah. Well, maybe don’t go for a midnight meeting with the Under-king if you want to see the dawn, Nesta.’ Hunt flew them a short distance then landed back amongst the lights on poles. He kept one hand clasped around her wrist like she might run while pulling one of the metal rectangles from his pocket. It displayed numbers that he tapped. His thumb moved down the screen, the words it showed flew by too quick for Nesta to read. ‘It’s Athalar. As you said, she’s one of your kind. She needs to be put up in a hotel.’ A pause. ‘Near the Dead Gate. I’ve flown her near Jesiba Roga’s house of horrors, but she’ll end up wandering through the meat market if I leave her.’ Hunt gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Either a hotel or the barracks with me, but not a chance I’m leaving her in your custody.’

Hunt slid the device into his back pocket. ‘The prince of pricks is booking you a hotel for the night. You hungry?’

The malakh lifted her into the air again to cross the city. They returned to the huge building where he had first taken her but did not stay long. Nesta was told to wait in the corridor outside a room while Hunt retrieved a bag of items. They stopped off at a restaurant along the way while he waited for news from the prince of pricks, whoever that was.

‘Noodles,’ he said, gesturing to the flimsy packaging.

Nesta stared down at them. They reminded her of yellow strings but there were chunks of meat and vegetables amongst them and a sweet-smelling sauce that made her ravenous. Hunt paid for it all, including the drink that was filled with bubbles.

‘Not a fan of coffee, but you like soda,’ he said between mouthfuls.

‘It is so sweet.’

‘Yeah because it’s all sugar.’

Nesta slurped it down, not caring if the ice hurt her teeth.

Hunt pulled the device – a cell phone – from his pocket. ‘Danaan came through. Let’s go.’

The lodgings were nice. One of those moving portrait boxes was hung on the wall and Hunt pressed a button on another rectangle to make it work. He pressed a few more buttons, the portraits changing rapidly.

‘Here we go. Fangs and Bangs, as promised.’

There was a half-naked female on the screen lounging on a long chair near a body of water. A male, equally as bare and bronze, was discussing their relationship beside her.

‘What do all of those buttons do?’

Hunt shrugged one shoulder. ‘Nobody knows. That’s volume. Channel up and down. On and off.’

‘It controls it?’

‘Yes. A remote. Where the hell did you come from Nesta?’

Nesta said nothing. She couldn’t bear to think of the people she had left behind. There was no guarantee that the Harp would be returned to her or it would even let her pluck a string to return to Velaris.

‘Bathroom’s through there. This is a key card. You press it to that black panel on the door handle to get in but try not to leave tonight, alright. I don’t want to retrieve your body from the Istros in the morning.’ Hunt blew out a breath. ‘Get some sleep. I’ll be by in the morning.’

Despite the day she had endured, the sight of the bed with tightly-pulled white sheets was calling to her. As soon as she hit that pillow, Nesta would be out.

Hunt rummaged in the bag that he’d collected from the Comitium. There were soft, grey pants and a white top. ‘For you to sleep in. There are slits on the back for my wings, but it will be comfier than those,’ he said, pointing to her leathers. ‘I don’t know how you breathe in that.’

‘Thank you, Hunt,’ replied Nesta, clutching the clothes to her body.

‘Tomorrow, we will talk. Off the record. About you.’ He swept his hair from his face. ‘I want to help but I can’t if you’re not honest with me. Sleep well.’

#hunt x nesta #acotar #crescent city #hunt athalar #nesta archeron

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smartycvnt · 6 months

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Another Life

Title: Another Life

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Hotch introduces the team to his wife when a BAU case brings them close to where he settled down.

Word Count: 1240

Warnings: brief mentions of murder

The murders were making Aaron nervous. Foyet was long gone, and Aaron thought that he had moved on. Jack and Ash were none the wiser to the thoughts racing through Aaron's mind. To them, this was just a freak situation in a nearby city. It was something that Ash constantly reassured everyone that the city cops would be able to handle. Aaron had more than enough on his plate at the firm to worry about the bullshit happening half an hour away.

Aaron wished that his wife had been right, but then the call came in from Garcia. The BAU had been sent out after the bodies of more victims had been found. Whenever one of Jack's friends showed up on the autopsy table, Aaron had rushed over there to see what he could do to help. Legally, he wasn't sure what he could do, but Aaron wanted everything to be over as quickly as possible.

"It feels different looking down at the body knowing who it was." Rossi and JJ shared a look as Aaron stared down at the boy on the table. "Carter, he ate dinner at my house last weekend. He was on Jack's baseball team. I helped him fill out an application for a pre-college program last month."

"Aaron, I am so sorry," Rossi apologized. "We'll get this sick bastard before he takes another kid's life. Go home, be with Jack, I'm sure that he needs his father."

"My wife is with him. Ash has been a godsend," Aaron said. JJ looked surprised by the news that Aaron had remarried. JJ could remember the difficulties that Aaron had whenever he had tried dating before. "If you guys aren't too busy when this is all over, I'd love to have you over for dinner."

The offer to come and see where Aaron had been for the past decade or so had been happily accepted by the rest of the team. Even Garcia had hopped on an airplane to come and see Aaron and Jack. Aaron pretended not to be nervous about the whole ordeal, but Ash could see right through him. She could see the way that his fingers twitched as he watched the FBI issued black SUVs pull into the driveway.

"I know that I'm relatively new to the housewife side of things, but my cooking isn't that bad, is it?" Ash joked as she nudged Aaron's side with her elbow. Aaron glanced down at his wife, who was smiling at him in an attempt to get him to calm down. There wasn't anything for them to worry about. Ash was amazing, and the team would love her. If anything, Aaron knew that he only had to worry about Emily or Derek charming her away from him, not that they'd ever seriously do that.

"The ten pounds I gained should be reassurance enough." Ash smiled at Aaron's joke. He placed his hand over his stomach, which Ash knew for a fact was still in great shape. Aaron worked out like he was still planning on taking a fitness test for the FBI again. He was a great influence on her health and worked with her to get some exercise almost every single day.

"Are they here?" Jack asked as he raced down the stairs. Ash didn't think that she had seen him that excited to see anybody in a long time. Suddenly, she felt a little nervous. These people were very obviously important to her husband and son. Ash watched as Jack practically ran outside and began hugging the group of people that got out of the vehicles.

"Come on," Aaron said as he led Ash outside. She looked at each of them, who seemed so happy to be reunited with their old friend. Ash felt out of place, but she wouldn't have traded her place watching for anything. It felt like a blessing to see a sliver of Aaron's old life before he had been forced to move. He didn't like talking about Haley or his work before, and with the dark subject matter, Ash had just let it be.

"This is my mom, Ash," Jack introduced. He looked back at Ash, who was still taking a moment to compose herself. She had done everything that she could to build a relationship with Jack without forcing it, and it had paid off. She constantly worried about being too overbearing or not seeming to care enough, but for Jack to introduce her as his mom showed that she had been doing things just right.

"It's nice to meet all of you. Aaron isn't much of a talker, so I'm afraid that I don't know a lot," Ash said. She shook each of their hands as they introduced themselves. Aaron ushered everybody inside to eat the dinner that Ash had made for them that was sitting out on the dining room table. It was a bit cramped, but there seemed to just enough room.

Ash spent most of her night listening to the stories that everybody had to tell. Aaron looked so at ease around his old friends. Rossi was full of stories about Aaron's early days, and Ash wasn't the least bit surprised to learn that he had been uptight and overly serious to compensate for his initial lack of experience. JJ's stories about Aaron falling asleep at his desk working overnight sounded somewhat familiar, but it was a habit that Aaron had been slowly breaking himself out of.

"You guys are gonna come visit again, aren't you?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Definitely, and we'll work on talking your old man into coming to DC for a bit. Have you ever been Ash?" Emily asked. Ash thought that she liked Ash the most out of everybody. They were the most alike, both women who had focused on their careers to a personal detriment. Ash hoped that Emily got lucky and found someone like Aaron who could give her the family that she had always wanted, but kept pushing off.

"Nope, I haven't left the state actually," Ash answered. "Aaron lured me in with stories about foreign cities and exotic places."

"Well now you have to come out," Rossi decided. Aaron watched as they all planned a trip for him to come to DC in the summer. It scared him a little to go back to where he had lost his wife, but Jack had been asking to visit for a couple of years now already. Aaron wanted to give Jack everything, and there was no better way to set a good example for his son than to put his own fears behind him to make his family happy.

"Do you think that they liked me?" Ash asked hours after everybody had left as she got ready for bed with Aaron.

"I think they love you almost as much as I do. It's impossible not to," Aaron told her. Ash smiled as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Yeah, you really did try keeping your distance. I guess you're not much of a lone wolf anymore, and I can't say that I'm too upset about it."

"Me neither," Aaron agreed. He really was glad that he had let go of his reservations and made the move to let things get serious with Ash. He would never forget Haley or let Ash replace her, but it was nice to have someone else there for him and Jack.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #my writing #one shot

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queercanon13 · 1 year

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The Karma music video is packed with queer and sapphic themes. But what’s with that yellow beret?

We all watched the Karma music video on Friday (or Saturday), right? And then we all watched it ten more times because there IS JUST SO MUCH THERE. Right?!

I can’t even begin to unpack the whole thing yet, but let’s talk about the yellow brick road scene.

Taylor is obviously wearing ruby slippers (“the rubies that I gave up”) alluding to Dorothy/the Wizard of Oz. But she’s not wearing the rest of Dorothy’s getup. That’s because she’s not Dorothy, but in fact a friend of Dorothy.

She’s holding a broom (lots of witchy themes from her lately) and blows a kiss of blue (iykyk) glitter to three grim reapers (the two SBs and…?).

She’s keeping her side of the street clean, which harkens to the YNTCD MV where she clearly shows which side of the street she’s on:

Other things of note: it appears there are daisies embroidered on her collar, as well as growing along the yellow brick road. Her braids are also looped (“your braids make a pattern”).

The yellow brick road itself may be a nod to Elton John and his album/song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. Here are some of the lyrics from that song, as well as a generally accepted analysis of the lyrics:

Seems like it would be super relatable to Taylor, right? Add in Elton John’s queerness/coming out journey, and the parallels continue.

There are probably a hundred other things I’m missing just from that scene alone, but what I really wanna talk about is the yellow beret, especially in light of current news surrounding Taylor.

When I saw the yellow beret, I furiously googled “yellow beret” + the names of Taylor’s muses, but I came up empty-handed. Because Taylor is specifically not wearing a Dorothy costume, I knew that fucking hat had to mean something. Then I remembered — isn’t yellow beret a military term? And we know she loves a good war story. To Google I went, and the results did not disappoint.

During the Vietnam war, all physicians in the US had a mandatory draft order. One of the ways to avoid the draft was to apply for a position with a Public Health Service program called the NIH Associates Training Program. Because the elite program was highly competitive, only a small percentage of doctors were able to serve their required military time without going to war.

Yellow beret was a self-deprecating and derogatory term used by and for doctors who avoided getting a green beret/going to war (yellow can be associated with cowardice, i.e. “yellow-bellied”) via the NIH program.

Sounding familiar? But wait there’s more.

Bob Seger wrote a song in 1966 called The Ballad of the Yellow Beret. It was written as a parody of the song The Ballad of the Green Berets. Here are some of the lyrics (I encourage you to read all of them!):

Verse 1: Fearless cowards of the USA // Bravely here at home they stay // They watch their friends get shipped away // The draft dodgers of the Yellow Beret

Okay, I’m seated.

Verse 3: Men who faint at the sight of blood // Their high-heeled boots weren't meant for mud // The draft board will hear their sob stories today // Only the best win the yellow beret

Oooookay.

Verse 4: Back at home a young wife waits // Her yellow beret has met his fate // He's been drafted for marching in a protest //Leaving her his last request

Are you screaming yet? Just wait.

Verse 5: Put a yellow streak down my son's back // Make sure that he never ever fights back // At his physical have him say he's gay // Have him win the yellow beret

And if that wasn’t enough, two of the last lyrics are “I've got a pimple on my trigger finger” (ew) and “well, we were planning on having children sometime soon” (devastating). These themes also align with The Great War, epiphany, etc.

But despite attempts to diminish their efforts through claims of cowardice, these “yellow beret” physician-scientists contributed to some of the most important and innovative medical research we have today. Dr. Fauci attended the training program, as well as nine others who went on to win Nobel Prizes.

Could it be that Taylor is trying to tell us that, while it looks like she dodged the draft (didn’t come out), she’s doing some important mastermind shit behind the scenes? Only time will tell, but since we are now at “dawn,” I believe daylight is soon to follow. ☀️

#gaylor #taylor swift #the eras tour #karma mv #karma taylor swift #karma is a cat #karma ft ice spice #karma remix #gaylor swift #swiftgron #kaylor

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oonajaeadira · 6 months

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I'll Leave a Light On For You

Fandom: Bloodsucking Bastards / Max Phillips

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n. (There is a little description, but it’s still you. Believe me, it will make sense. We’re dealing with the supernatural here.)

Rating: T.

Warnings: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s.

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons.

A/N: This is my entry for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event. While I played one selfish card in my hand and wrote something of a companion to Light Only Shows You Where the Shadows Are, this can still be read as a standalone.

To my giftee, the amazing and wonderful @artemiseamoon : First of all, I admire you so much and I was really nervous to write for you. But I looked among your generous prompt choices (omgs thank you for so many good choices) and was surprised to find Max as an option. I wasn’t going to choose him at first but then my eye caught “past lives” and something in me zinged. Soul mates, angsty romance, second chance at love… and I’ve been itching to write an angsty Max. I know you are a fan of soft and whump, so all those elements had a party in my heart and here we are. I really hope you’re having a nice holiday and a good time off. Happy Secret Santa, Arte. <3

What we’ve been told is that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

That’s almost correct.

The truth is…it’s not just your current life.

It’s all of them.

Max hardly remembers the fear, the pain, the cold of his draining. Even though he knew what was coming, bought into the cult, the human instinct of fight or flight is hard to dismiss no matter how well they’ve been prepped and it was to be expected. But it was a flash in the pan and once he came around to the undead side of things, those pesky human responses were all quickly forgotten.

For a time. Until he saw your light and–

Anyway. Human instincts. Pffft. Adorable. Trading the constant possibility of fear for that of glee, of rapture, of delight? Human instincts are trash. Not to mention their senses, poor suckers. The things they can’t see can’t hear can’t smell can’t taste? Tragic.

If only the feelings weren’t heightened too. It makes some things–some people–hard to ignore–

Feelings were something he could also have done without in his human life–the latest one anyway–and did whatever he could do to avoid.

It wasn’t until he died that he understood why.

As the life drained out of him and the delirium set in, there was a rushing sound, a pull through his soul like the drag of blood from his body, and he was laying, feeble, wailing, bloody and naked among the limbs of his mother.

But not the mother he so recently remembered, the one that showed her approval only when he provided her with some accomplishment worthy of crowing about to her society friends. No, this one was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she died of fever when he was only five years old.

Max saw it all, from within himself and without, remembered the pull of his heart and watched the tears fall down his little face as they nailed his mother’s body in a pine box and put it in a hole at the top of a hill under a tree.

He always imagined he heard her singing to him in the grasses after that.

The world welcomed a new century, and not long afterward, he was a young man, looking to take over his father’s wine fields. But the chance was stolen when an archduke was shot. Max–Pierre, as he was called then–and all of the close friends and cousins he had were thrust into a great war.

He was the only one to walk out of the fray. And when he came home, he found his father’s fields had been burned and that nothing remained.

That was a dark time. Ten years of looking back rather than looking forward. Ten years–it went by so fast–while he watched the world around him try to repair itself and find its footing again, not realizing that the roots of evil still grew beneath the soil.

He kept his head down and his hands working wherever he could.

But then he met a woman.

And she was Pierre’s life. Max’s life. Before he was Max.

It happened in the winter, just before Noël. And her name was Yaëlle.

Max remembered that before she even told him as he watched the story of this strange old life.

Yaëlle. It means “beautiful one.”

“It also means ‘goat,’” she’d said. “That seems more fitting.” She never thought of herself pretty, and perhaps she wasn’t fashionable and maybe she was stronger than she was dainty, with a weak chin and curly dark hair she couldn’t control. But the light in her eyes when she laughed–and what a laugh, like a little bird–the sway of her hips and the confidence in her carriage, her air of easy care and comfort caught his heart like a surly bear in the prettiest trap.

She’d simply been passing through the marché de Noēl, looking but not stopping, taking the kerchief off her head so the snow could land in her curls, when a child approached her selling buns in the shape of a cross and she gave the child a franc before sitting down at the statue of some cardinal or other in the center of the square.

She could have sat on any of the other benches, but she chose to plonk down next to Max. Next to Pierre.

“You want this?” she asked, offering the bun. “Not really my thing.”

How could she have known he was hungry? That he was lonely? That he was facing the market rather than the river because he was trying not to succumb to his inclinations, a pull to walk out onto the thin ice and let himself be taken by the stream?

He was instantly entranced by her. He felt himself smiling. Something shifted within. A destiny.

“You sure?” he asked.

She peered at him, scrutinized his whole self like she could see a glow around him and was looking for its source.

She found it in his eyes.

“Absolutely. I already ate three hand pies today. The last thing I need is more bread.”

He laughed for the first time in a long while. They talked. He ate.

On Christmas Eve when everyone was at the evening’s mass, she was there again, sitting alone, and this time it was he who had hot food and came to join her on the bench while the night was silent and cold and the stars were twinkling.

It was then that he learned why she was not in church–her folk did not observe Noēl. And she learned why he was not in church–he had lost his faith, that everyone he had ever loved was taken and there were not enough candles in the sanctuary to light for all of them.

“What if I lit one?” she’d asked.

“Who would you light it for?”

“For you. So you don’t have to sit in the dark.” When he was only silent, she said, “You fought in the Great War, didn’t you.” And when he looked away–when he shut her out–she continued. “My husband fought in that war. And he never could find his heart again. He said he loved me, but I don’t think he ever really did, not all the way. But I loved him all the way and when he put an end to his own life I thought I would have to do it too. Instead, I sat in the dark for a long time. It’s something I can see in a person. I can see you’re sitting in the dark.”

They stayed quiet for a time on the bench under the statue of the cardinal and when the church bells started to toll–signaling the magic of the empty square would soon be disrupted by the mass emptying into its streets–she stood and pulled her coat around her.

“My home is down that street, a little one with a red roof. It’s warm and I’ve plenty of hand pies--I made too many. I’ll leave a candle in the window until I’m asleep. You’re always welcome there, Max.”

And then she smiled and turned down the avenue where she’d pointed.

He blinked. Just before she reached the edge of the square he called out, “My name isn’t Max. It’s Pierre.”

She turned and gave a sly wink. “Good to know. I think once you get a belly full of my pies, you’ll let me call you whatever I want.”

He only sat long enough to watch the churchgoers file out of the holy service, many of them with people they loved, humming, happy, cheeks glowing in that way when one steps into a fresh cold world after being an hour or two soaking in the warmth. And once the square was empty again, he stood, gave only a fleeting look to the river, and then walked resolutely down Yaëlle’s street.

A little house with a red roof and a candle in the window.

He stayed for supper and came back many nights after.

And then one night he never left.

Max recalled the rest of that life with a lurking despair. While he couldn’t quite remember how it went, something in him carried it through to the life he’d just left…and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was yet.

A few years of joy, of the greatest love he’d felt since his childhood. Like the mother he’d lost, another woman who was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she couldn’t anymore.

They never celebrated Noël as the others did, but in their own way. For a handful of years they would go sit on the bench in the square and hand out pies to their neighbors and anyone who came to join them where they sat. They would listen to the singing in the church and watch the stars scintillate overhead. They would leave their shoes by the fireplace and wake up to find gifts they’d bought for each other with the little francs that they had. And they would never talk about what they would do in the future, because they knew it would be this and that’s all they aspired to and it would be a happy life.

And Max watched Pierre forget about the rot that still ran its roots through the soil.

And one day soldiers came to town when he was out in the fields and they took Yaëlle and some of the other dark-haired, joyful, bird-laughing folk about town and murdered them. By the time he returned for the evening, the soldiers had gone and left him nothing but a ravaged house and a body to bury.

There’s nothing he could have done, the mourning neighbors told him, the tide was rising. If he had fought them, they would have shot him too.

Pierre said that it would have been better that way.

Pierre stopped working in the fields when he started to hear his mother’s voice singing among the grasses again…now joined by Yaëlle’s sweet alto.

He had one more Noël in that life. He drank as much as he could take without falling over and stumbled out to sit on the bench in the square, weeping once the churchgoers had gone. He didn’t say a word, but Max remembered what Pierre was thinking then.

Love hurts too much. It is always taken. It’s not worth the trouble.

And then Pierre fell asleep on that bench and never woke up again.

There wasn’t much time between that first life and this one, maybe a few decades in the dark. Just long enough for a voice to reach him in the void–a voice he knew well and loved with his whole heart for only a short time–to say,

“That was a good first try, Max. Let’s give it another go, okay? Another place, another time, when it’s not so hard. I’ll leave a light on for you.”

____

Max’s life had been shorter this time. But he’d learned a thing or two and kept love at arm’s length. Sex was good and companionship was fine, but he wouldn’t invest in anything that could drain him in an instant and leave him destitute.

Now power, that could fill the void.

So when fortune smiled and he was given the choice, he swallowed hard and put his neck to the teeth, traded in his humanity for power that nobody could take away from him…and a heart that had no need for warmth.

He was wrong about that last point though.

And he didn’t even know it until he saw something that humans couldn’t see.

Heard something they couldn’t hear, a long ago and far away voice singing.

Smelled you on the wind.

Followed it to you–a woman, just another human woman–walking out of a bar along some street in the city.

And he saw a light glowing from within you.

You wore another face, another body, but all he saw was you.

Yaëlle.

Beautiful one.

He followed you that night, and several nights after. He was the reason that car swerved before it hit you, the reason you weren’t approached by that seedy guy at the club. He was the reason you kept looking behind you now and then and when you finally saw him–having dinner at the same restaurant, totally by coincidence, you on a friendly outing, him trying to charm a client into a contract–it broke his heart that you did not know him instantly.

He found he was surprised that he still had a heart to break. He’d been so fucking careful.

Max almost gave into the anger, the disappointment. Replayed the pathetic way Pierre let himself be brought down and tried to remind himself not to let himself be broken again.

But then he heard your voice in a way only those who walk in death can.

Let’s give it another go. I’ll leave a light on for you.

____

Heightened feeling is the one drawback of all this power. It’s one thing to latch onto a target, to fixate on some middle manager or accountant or IT specialist until there’s a good time to finally strike. That is an itch that can be satisfied with a well-timed, fear-seasoned, adrenaline-soaked kill.

But love sinks its fangs in and doesn’t let go. It sucks at something that can’t be drained, has no end, can never get enough. It can drive an immortal--a never-ending being of heightened existence--to madness.

There will come a day in the future when you’ll trust him for no good reason, when you’ll understand the monster he is and whisper under your breath against your better judgment, when you’ll invite him in. For dinner.

And he’ll come around again and again.

And then one day, he’ll stay.

And you’ll yawn ask him on the edge of sleep, “Why me? Of all these humans that you could easily enthrall and have without question, why choose this?”

Max will look at you in the darkness and see nothing but your light.

You won’t understand when he puts on a show of an irritated sigh and tells you, “You gave me another chance, sweetmeats,” but you’ll doze in his cold arms, absolutely confident as he is that nothing will ever hurt you again. Including himself.

And that night he’ll stay until you wake.

He won’t have you sit in the darkness alone.

_____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

#pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x f!reader

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emeraldbloodcrown · 10 days

Text

Once More

Chapter: Three - New Acquaintances Pairing: Poly; Tattoo Artists!141 x Baker!Female Reader Summary: Not getting the answers you want, you decide to catch a break at the town's festival, meeting two new strangers. Content/Warning: Still none, Kyle's dimples Word Count: 3.1k

Sharing a look with Anna both of you crouched by her sides, hooking an arm around her and guiding her movements until she could settle down on her bed. You swept another look over her body, trying to see the beginning of a bruise or her favoring an arm; anything to prove that she was injured. But you couldn't tell and she wouldn't say.

"Alright," you huffed exasperatedly. "Yell if you need anything."

Your grandmother waved you off, turning her hand as if to shoo you out of her room and you watched her pull the covers over herself before Anna closed the door.

You walked down the stairs in silence, a charged atmosphere between you both but Anna only addressed once you were back in your room.

"Do you buy it?"

Raising one of your eyebrow, you shot her a skeptic look. "Do you? Heavens, I don't want her to actually be injured but the way that just sounded… Plus, I can't shake that she's hiding something."

Anna furrowed her brows, "Anything in particular?"

"No, nothing I could point out but it's sitting there in the back of my mind, like things just don't fit together."

Climbing back into bed, you pulled the covers over you, setting an alarm for the next morning with the decision to start figuring out if your mind was playing tricks on you, or if there was truly something your grandmother was keeping to herself.

The next morning came faster than you had expected it, your entire body still aching from the day before and desperate for more sleep, and your finger hovered over the snooze button - just ten more minutes, or an hour - before you woke up enough to remember why you had set it so early to begin with.

The reason how your grandmother wound up owning a bakery had to do largely with her love for sweets. According to your father she had always been baking and progressing recipes to perfection. That was a similarity you apparently shared with her but where your drive came from a plethora of food allergies that made store bought foods feel like a round of Russian Roulette, she simply didn't like the taste, always complaining why she should buy it when she could make it so much better.

A sentiment that was soon shared by family and friends and after the first few people who hired her for making cakes and treats for their parties, she started to dream about doing that for a living and once her children had been old enough, she was able to fulfill that for herself.

Your grandmother had an unmatched love for good sweets and you reckoned that, with her age, it had been a long while since someone had gotten her something that hadn't been from a store, which could be just the right thing to get her to be more indulgent once you ask her some questions she's probably not gonna like.

Question was just what you were gonna make for her.

By the time you had something to show for your efforts, it was already an early morning and you could hear the slow, single footsteps of your grandmother making it down the stairs.

"Smells good in her, dearie. What're ya making?"

She circled the counter, one hand clutching the corner tight enough her knuckles were turning white and peaked into the pot.

"Quarkinis, hm?"

You hummed, rolling another ball out of curd dough and dropping it carefully into the hot oil.

"Gonna use powedered sugar?"

You hummed again.

"You used vanilla pods?"

Another hum.

"Two or three?"

"Don't play me; you've always used two and a half."

From the corner of your eyes, you could see her lips curl into a soft smile, nudging your side.

"I never understood your obsession with these. Ever since we made that trip to Germany, you just couldn't get enough of them."

"Cause you brought me there in the midst of the carnival season. Of course, I was gonna get hooked on sweets, music and bright colours. And," you raised a finger for emphasis before pointing it at her, "you combined Kreppels and Quarkinis for me so I wouldn't have to decide which I liked more."

There was a pause before your grandmother addressed the elephant in the room: "I also made them for you whenever we needed to talk."

"Sure did." Taking the last batch out of the oil and turning the stove off, you grabbed her a plate with the already filled in sugared curd balls. "Come on."

Your grandmother and you sat down in front of each other, the plate between you. She took one, observing the shape, giving it a small squeeze before taking a bite from it.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her smile widening and pride shining in her eyes when she opened them again.

"Alright, what do you wanna talk about?"

"How did the fire start?"

You could visibly see how she was closing herself off: her shoulders drew high, lips turned into a thin line and her gaze hardened.

„I told you. Electric fire. The wires were old, was bound to happen one day."

You nodded. The report she had shown you when you had gotten back did state the cause of the fire as an electric one. Anna and you had already decided that you wanted everything of the bakery be new so that nothing could backfire on you due to age or over usage, so you had called someone to check and redo all of the wiring.

The thing was, given the tight-knit community, you had wounded up getting the son of the man who had done the check-ups for your grandmother, so they had both shown up for the appointment, meticulously checking everything after the father had apologized to you - 'could‘ve been your granny just the same' - and what they had found had raised more questions than answers.

All of the wiring was just as it should be, except for the one that had caused the fire. Which, father and son had pointed out, had started at a strange angle. It was too burnt now to truly tell, but you knew what they were trying to imply.

Someone had meddled with it.

"We just so happened to get the same electricians as you."

"Oh, James‘ son? How nice of him to take over for his father"

Her smile reappeared but it didn‘t reach her eyes, too practiced, as she went into an anecdote about something James did in his younger years.

"Sure, he also said that it‘s unlike his father to mess up like that-"

She didn‘t even let you finish properly before she started into an excuse.

"Well, didn‘t you always say that old people have a hard time coming to terms with the things they can‘t do anymore? And it‘s not like James‘ father is getting any younger either."

"Grandma."

She halted at the tone of your voice and watched as you crossed your arms and leaned over to rest them on the table.

"What aren‘t you telling me?"

"I don‘t know what you‘re talking about"

"All of the wiring was good. Kinda unlikely for it to burn your shop down, don‘t you think?"

"It was an electric fire," she insisted.

You knew you should back off but you also had the feeling that if you didn‘t push now, you might never get any clear answer from her.

"That‘s not true, and you know it!"

Her chair scratched over the floor as she slammed her hands on the table and got up.

"Stop it. You have no idea what you‘re talking about, just focus on rebuilding and leave everything else in the past. Where it belongs, I mean it."

You watched her leave before you deflated and pressed your hands over your head together. That wasn‘t ideal, but even if it wasn‘t the outcome you had hoped for, her reaction did show that something was off.

You took your time cleaning up, so by the time Anna found you, you were sitting on the window sill in the living room, window wide open and the hand closest to it holding a lit cigarette.

She came to a stop next to you, holding your shoulder to squeeze in and take a seat next to you, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Been a while since I've seen you smoke."

"Been a while since I've had a reason to."

She took the cigarette from your hand, taking a drag from it herself before she answered. "Yeah, I heard both of you yelling. Got anything?"

You shook your head, a bitter expression taking over your face. "Nope, only told me to drop it."

Anna scoffed and you couldn't help but smile. Years of working together had taught her that you were known for your stubbornness, often taking up fights with management for the sake of your residents' wellbeing. She had experienced it so many times that she had grown used the tone of voice that would precurse you not listening.

The same tone that was in your voice right now.

"Which you're obviously not gonna do."

Wrapping your arm around her shoulder, you squeezed her body. "Aww, look at you knowing me so well," You took your cigarette again, taking another drag, "No, I know something's going on."

"Well before you make that bomb explode, we got a festival to get to."

The sun was just starting to set when you and Anna arrived. The town square had been transformed: fairy lights and colorful pennants with the town's emblem hanging between the old street lamps and a stage right in the middle of it with several stalls loaded with a wide variety of food or little trinkets to buy.

You watched the pre-teens dancing to a mix of popular songs on stage before you hooked your arm with Anna and wandered into the masses. Quickly you noticed that nearly every family business was represented on this festival in one way or another but any bigger shop, those that had hundreds of branches all over the country, were missing.

A sudden pull from your elbow made you stop and look to Anna who had stopped, her fingers still in the crease of your elbow but she was focused on something on your left, her eyes filled with a child-like wonder. You had an inkling what had put her in such a state but you followed her line of sight, and heaved a sigh when you saw indded what you had been expecting.

Behind the row of food stalls were a few festival games set up, among them a shooting gallery with the woman working it advertising a giant sparkling Pegasus as the main prize.

"I want it…"

"5 pounds for three tries; that's gonna add up fast."

"I knooow"

You almost laughed when you heard her honest-to-God whine and you couldn't help but egg her on a little.

"You don't need it, tho"

Anna grabbed your arm with both hands and shook you while she kept whining.

"I want it so bad. I need it! Come on, have a heart."

"Okay, okay! Where's your cut off?"

"500," she replied instantly and you snapped your head at her.

"The fuck you are; go lower. We ain't made of money."

"495"

"Try 50 or I'll keep your wallet hostage until we're home."

"You're a horrible friend," she said while grabbing the bills from you and stomped towards the game.

"For keeping you from bankruptcy? Yeah, so horrible."

Your only answer was Anna flipping you off. Laughing to yourself at that, you decided to take a look around to find something to keep you occupied while Anna tried to score her new friend.

You set your eyes on a claw crane and found if Anna could waste cash, so could you. Most people walked past the money trap, leaving only one person in front and you used the time to figure out which prize you wanted to try for.

"Bloody hell," he exclaimed in front of you, smacking his hands against the machine as it beeped sadly, indicating a loss. Noticing your eyes on him, he turned slightly, allowing you to see his, admittedly, pretty face; clean shaven and dark skin so soft to the look that it made you think of needing to do more of a skin care routine.

"Sorry, didn't mean to shout."

"All good. Which one were you trying to get?"

He made space for you and you stepped to the controls of the machine, feeding it the money for the first try. Surprised by your question, he pointed to plushie of a red panda holding a heart.

"That one. For my girlfriend."

You smiled at that and set the crane up for the panda.

"Oh please, you really don't ha-"

"They're a favorite of hers?"

You got on your tip toes for a moment before you decided to take the arm a little more to the left and letting it go down.

"Yeah, saw some compilation of them and has been obsessed ever since."

"That's cute."

The claws opened and closed around the leg, slipping a bit but had grabbed enough chunk of the body that it held on. You cheered the machine on as it so ever slowly moved to the front, and jumped in joy when it slid down the hatchet, and the machine beeped a success.

Taking in by your joy, the two of you high-fived before you went to retrieve the toy and give it to him.

"There was really no need for that but thank you," he said, adorning a sweet smile that dimples pop out in his cheeks.

"Anyone willing to get that angry for his girlfriend deserves some help. Besides, I often get lucky with these machines. Only them, tho," you laughed.

"Gotta remember that for next time then. I'm Kyle, by the way." Putting the panda under his arm, he reached to offer his hand and just as you were about to give him your name, you heard it being scremed by a very familiar voice.

Turning around to the commotion, you saw Anna waving, and when she noticed she had your attention, she waved the giant Pegasus in her arms.

"Unbelievable…"

"Your friend?" Kyle asked and, once you nodded while sighing in exasperation, he continued, "She looks fun. And she's found Johnny."

You looked again. Hooked around her arm was a man: tall with a mohawk, shirt exposing the intricate sleeve on his right arm, and an easy smile on his lips as he chatted with Anna and let himself be dragged by her to where you were standing with Kyle.

"Look!" Anne yelled when she was close enough, excitement bubbling in her voice.

"Can't believe you actually won it."

"Oh no, can't take the credit for that," she pulled Johnny closer, "he got it for me"

Mohawk guy - Johnny - winked at Anna, "Cannae leave a damsel in distress, aye?"

"And I'm sure you only had noble intentions," Kyle scoffed, smirk on his lips to which Johnny only rolled his eyes.

"I see ye got the toy fer yer girl."

Kyle clasped a hand around your shoulder: "Curtesy of my new friend."

Clapping his hands together once, Johnny said, "That calls for drinks. Come on."

You joined Anna's side just as Johnny went to Kyle, wrapping an arm around him and patting him on the back.

"Glad you could make it."

Johnny lead the three of you to the backside of the festival where a couple restaurant had their outdoor seating left open and offered food and drinks for a lower price. Naturally, seemingly ever table was occupied but Johnny found one almost hidden away at the far back.

Anna and you sat down next to each other with both of the boys opposite tou, and when you all had a drink, you clinked your glasses together in a toast.

"To new acquaintances."

Talking to new people had never been your strong suit, especially when you couldn't hide behind one of your expertises. But there was just something about how Johnny and Kyle created a pleasant atmosphere that even you could let yourself loose and not worry how you might be perceived.

"Am serious, Simon looked ready to murder him. Poor lad just about pissed himself."

Johnny had been retelling stories of their work, most of them having a Simon guy at the front of some customer forgetting their place.

"Wait, wait," you interjected, "so Simon's the big guy, right? Dressed like he's ready to rob a bank, that one?"

Johnny nodded vigorously, almost bouncing in his drunken giggle fit.

"And you have actually customers who throw a fit with him?"

Anna and you looked at each other incredulously, ready for Johnny to anounce it was a joke but nothing happened.

"So people are insane here, that's good to know."

You finished your drink, taking another look at Kyle. He had been joking with Johnny and sharing his own stories but for a while he had been absolutely quiet, eyes glued to the phone while his thumbs flew over the screen. A sharp curse escpaing his lips, getting Johnny's attention too, before he threw his drink back, patting his jacket for his wallet before Johnny stopped him.

"I got ye. Donnea worry, can pay me back later."

"Thanks, man. Sorry, I'll make this up to you," Kyle said, shifting his eyes as if to include you and Anna in the apology.

"Take care"

Anna nudged you, showing you the time.

"We should probably get going too," she said, raising her hand to flag down a waiter.

That seemed to get Johnny's attention, his head turning back to you both.

"Sure, ye girls mind if I bring ye home? Jus' tae be safe."

You hesitated for a moment but Anna jumped on the chance, swooning about him being a gentleman and hooking arms with him as soon as you were ready to leave. You could practically see hearts in her eyes and you realized where this was heading; sighing.

The entire way home,the conversation kept going but mainly between Anna and Johnny but you found yourself smiling at his attempts to keep you a participant and not just a listener while Anna chatted his ear off.

It didn't take long until you were almost home, bakery to your left when Johnny stopped, observing the work you had been doing.

"Damn me, almost back to her glory."

"And we're not even close to done," Anna exclaimed, letting go of Johnny in favor of hugging her new friend to her chest.

Johnny looked at you, "Cannae wait. Ye ever need help, ye know where ta find me."

#crown mumbles #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader

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flanaganfilm · 1 year

Note

I tend to get obsessed with scenes where actors have a particularly outstanding performance. I find myself revisiting them over and over again just to relive the moment. Several examples of this, but one that I just love is in Midnight Mass when Kate and Zach are on the rowboat. What's it like experiencing that live, during production? Are you aware in the moment of how special it is or does that become more evident in post? Love to hear any and all details behind the scenes of how those get made. Also curious what scenes from your favorite movies/TV standout as particularly compelling performances by the actors.

This scene is a strange one, because it was the first thing we shot of the whole series. We had been shut down since March 2020 when the initial COVID lockdown hit, and were the first show in North America to go back into production that summer. We didn't know how to do that, and were juggling constantly evolving safety protocols as we tried to figure out how to shoot in this new world. Because a lot of our sets weren't ready to shoot when we came back, we opted to start easy - on our stages, with blue screen work. The boat scene is shot entirely on blue screen, we didn't even have water - the boat was gently rocked back and forth by grips. Kate and Zach were asked to do this huge, heavy, insanely difficult and emotional scene ON OUR FIRST DAY. I had asked them a few weeks prior if they'd be okay with that, as I was worried - they hadn't built their characters yet. They hadn't put a single scene down to draw from. But both said they'd do it, and so we threw them into the deep end.

(That's DP Michael Fimognari in the boat, trying to adjust lighting through his goggles) It was a VERY weird day. We were all wearing KN95 masks and goggles, the actors had to wear full masks and face shields when we weren't rolling. It was absolutely surreal and just about impossible for anyone to get into any headspace that felt like we were doing scene work. I had been fitted with modified motorcycle goggles, as I needed eye protection to be near the actors (it was all more than a bit ridiculous.) There was a ladder on set - you can see it behind Michael in the picture above - and I started the day by climbing it to address the cast and crew. About ten words into my speech, my goggles completely fogged up and I couldn't see anymore. I had to be helped down the ladder by several grips. I remember the first rehearsal was insane because the actors weren't allowed to take off their masks, per Netflix safety protocols. I was also required to wear my mask and goggles throughout, so giving direction to actors who couldn't see my face was a brand new and deeply strange thing (I'd continue to work this way for the next two years, we all got used to it, but this first day was fucking WEIRD). Kate and Zach couldn't even really hear each other through the masks to rehearse, as it was such a quiet and intimate scene. I was standing a few feet away and couldn't hear a damn thing. It was additionally weird because all of the elements of the scene outside of the boat wouldn't be added for many, many months as we got into VFX. There was no water, no stars, nothing at all to look at but hanging blue curtains and masked crew members. I don't know how Kate and Zach were able to put all of that aside and deliver the performances they delivered - oh wait, I suppose I do know. It's because they are exceptional actors. Kate later told me she was so outside of her comfort zone that she had to just dive in and trust every single thing around her. The scenes in the boat ultimately came together beautifully, but I did apologize to both of them later in the shoot. It wasn't fair that we asked them to do that, to start like that, without letting them build any foundation. But both waved it off. Production is chaos, and that particular production was the very first out the gate with COVID, so everything was crazy. They took all of that vulnerability and uncertainty and discomfort and fear and turned it into a handful of scenes that roar with honesty. It's among my favorite moments in what may always be my favorite Intrepid series.

#midnight mass #kate siegel #zach gilford #covid protocol

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backtotheshitshow · 1 year

Text

Ghost Clothes Part 2 : the field.

(Wally Clark x reader)

Part1 part3 part4

Summary: after finding y/n in the locker room, Wally wants to show her around the school.

Warning: idk if there is any 🤷‍♀️

Wally lead the way down the hall, doing his best to make small talk with Y/n.

“How did I not hear about you dying. I’ve been here since the ‘80’s and I never heard of a girl dying in the locker rooms.” Wally questioned.

“I died the same week Zayn left One Direction. So a dead girl wasn’t exactly the top story of the local teens.” Y/n explained.

“Ah yes I remember that band, they were no Motley Crüe though.” Wally says, opening the door to the school office. “Ladies first”

“Thank you. Yeah, I was always more of a 5 seconds of summer girl anyway.” Y/n came to a stop at the lost property bin. Everything in there was awful, old sweaty trackpants and hoodies.

“I’ll wait outside.” Wally says, giving a quick smile before leaving.

The only decent thing y/n could find in the bin was some girls basketball shorts and an AC/DC shirt that looked older than her, well older than what she’s supposed to be. Y/n reluctantly changed out of Wally’s jacket and into the other clothes.

She emerged from the lost property room, to be greeted with a smiling Wally. “Oooh AC/DC, you know they’re in my top ten list of bands to work out to. “ the boy chuckled, taking his jacket back.

Wally felt a twinge of sadness, he longed to see her in just his jacket again. God why was he being such a perv. He just meant this girl. Y/n clears her throat, snapping Wally back to reality.

“What? Sorry did you say something” Wally rambled.

“No. you’re just stairing.” Y/n informs.

“Right, sorry. Ah should we.. I don’t know, go for a walk?” Wally suggests rubbing the back of his neck.

“That sounds nice, actually can we start outside.” Y/n asked.

“Of course, come on I’ll show you the football field.” Wally says excitedly.

…

Wally took y/n out to the field, but he couldn’t help but wonder, we’re they on a date?. Like does them going for a walk and chatting together count as a date. Eventually the two stopped at the five yard line, and took in the scenery, glazing at the moon and all the stars .

“Do you spend a lot of time out here, Wally?” Y/n questioned

“ not as much as you would think. I do like being in the library, theirs always new stuff to read in there. Sometimes I just go to the cafeteria and just watch the student, you know, see how things keep changing year after year.” Wally explains.

“You died in 84, didn’t you?”

“Ah yeah… how’d you know.” The boy asked.

“ well I remember sitting at a game one night and I saw the score board and thought. Who the fuck is this Wally Clark guy? So I googled you. But it never said how you died.”y/n says.

“Oh I was layed out in a tackle on the five yard line. Right where you’re standing actually.”

Y/n instantly took a step back, “shit sorry” she gave Wally an apologetic look.

“It’s ok, they’ve re-grassed this field so many times since then, I doubt there’d be any trace of me left.” Wally gave a light chuckle, but to y/n it seemed forced. “Anyway… here lay down.” Wally encouraged y/n lay on the field and look up at the sky.

It was quiet as they both scanned the flickering light of the night sky, until Wally turned his attention to the girl next to him. He studied her profile, the shape of her nose, how soft her lips looked under the moon light, the way her eyelashes fluttered when she would blink.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n noticed Wally staring, again. “You know you have a really bad staring problem, Wally.” Y/n states still looking up at the moon.

Wally immediately turns his head back to the sky. “Sorry.”

The air fell silent again, the only thing y/n could here was the sound of Wally’s soft breaths. It was her turn to stare, y/n looked at the kind boy next to her, he had been so sweet and helpful to her, and under the moon light she wondered why she hadn’t noticed how handsome he was before.

Wally turns and meets Y/n eyes. “ now who’s the one staring” they both chuckle before falling silent again, gazing at each other intently. Wally briefly glanced at the girls lips, only for a second and began to lean closer.

“Who’s that?” Both ghosts jumped apart at the sudden noise.

“Jesus, Dawn. Don’t sneak up on people like that.” Wally sighs.

“Oh I’m sorry, Wally. I just wanted to know who this lovely girl is.” Dawn apologises.

Wally sighs in annoyance “Dawn this is Y/n, Y/n this is Dawn.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Y/n says

“ you too. Did you die during practice?” Dawn asks.

“Practice?”

“Basketball practice, I just thought because of the shorts and the shirt..”

“Oh no these are from lost property, I died in the showers.” Y/n explains.

“Oh my. Well I’m sure one of the ghosts around here can sew, maybe we can make you some new clothes.” Dawn suggests.

“Really! That would be great.” Y/n smiles then looks at Wally, who seems slightly annoyed, “ you don’t mind, do you Wally?”

“No of course not, I’ve got stuff to do anyway.”

“Great” Y/n stands up and begins walking with Dawn back inside the school. “ Hey, Wally I’ll see you later ok.” Y/n shouts from the door.

Wally gives a thumbs up as the girls go inside. Laying back down on the field Wally sighs, asking himself so many questions. Why did he ever think that could of been a date? Why is he so attached to a girl he just met? What is he feeling? Is this what falling in love feels like?

…

#wally clark x reader #wally clark #school spirits #milo manheim #wally clark fanfiction #wally clark x y/n

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holylulusworld · 1 year

Text

Gross

Summary: Your son heard something last night...

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Wife!Reader

Warnings: fun, crack, implied smut, daddy!Dean

“I see you are wearing matching clothes this morning,” Sam smirks as you and Dean walk into the kitchen.

You bought Dean a pajama with hot dog imprints. Now he’s wearing the pajama pants while you stole the matching shirt.

“Where are the kids?”

You yawn and rub your tired eyes. “Still asleep. Don’t ask too many questions this morning.”

“Not so loud,” Dean whispers to you. “We don’t want them to wake up. I need coffee and breakfast first. Dean Jr. kept me from getting my five hours of sleep.”

“How?” Sam asks. “What did he want to know this time?”

“DADDY!” you watch your ten-year-old son storm toward his father. “You won’t get away with this!”

Dean Jr. wields his fake katana in front of him while glaring at his father.

“What’s wrong with you buddy? Last night you wouldn’t let me sleep, and now you threaten your father?” Dean yelps as his son pokes his side with the fake sword. “Dean Jr. explain yourself.”

“You hurt mommy last night,” your son sniffs. “Sofia Rose heard it too. You’re lucky she’s still asleep. I won’t let you hurt Mommy again!"

“Hurt mommy…” Dean frowns at his son’s words. “Buddy, I would never hurt your mommy. She would break my neck if I put my hands on her the wrong way.”

You laugh at Dean’s pained expression. “Dean Jr.,” you softly say, “I swear Daddy didn’t hurt me. Why do you think he hurt me, Dean Jr.?”

“You screamed last night,” your son mumbles. “Sofia Rose woke me up, and I heard you screaming. You said don’t stop, but you sound like you are in pain…I wanted to help you, but the door was locked.”

“I…screamed,” you nervously chuckle. “Oh…oh…” you feel heat creep into your cheeks as you realize that your son must’ve heard you and Dean last night. “OH!!!”

“Sonofabitch!” Dean curses under his breath. “Son, I did not hurt your mother.” Dean crouches down next to his son and places his hand on your son’s shoulder. “Do you remember that one time you came home from school, and we talked about bees and flowers?”

“I still don’t like girls,” your son scrunches up his nose. “They smell odd…like flowers. That new girl always tries to kiss my cheek.”

“You see, I like girls,” Dean whispers. “Especially your mommy. If I like her very much, Mommy gets loud."

Your son furrows his brows. He looks from Dean to you and back at his father. You can almost see the wheels in his head spinning as his eyes widen in shock.

“GROSS Dad! You can’t do this with Mommy!”

“Buddy, Mommy, and I are married, and we love each other. Sometimes we want to show each other how much,” Dean calms his son.

“No. You won’t do that again with Mommy,” your son declares. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Dean Jr. storms off. He mutters under his breath, calling his father's actions gross.

“Dean, he means well.”

“He can’t just tell us to never have sex again,” your husband grumbles. “That’s it, we need to leave."

You chuckle.

"I mean it, sweetheart," Dean says. “I won’t keep my hands to myself.”

“Maybe you should invest in wall acoustic panels,” Sam says. “It will help with the…noises.” He grins from ear to ear. “I heard you too, you know…”

“If you want to forbid me to have sex with my wife too, you are dead,” Dean warns. “No one gets between me and my wife…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #daddy dean #daddy!dean

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orchidniins · 2 months

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anything for arthur hill 😭😭 maybe with a musician partner? no pressure take your time!! <3

Heartstrings | Arthur Hill

Summary: Y/N is a musician on her first solo tour. All she wanted was her boyfriend to be there to support her, but conflicting schedules might make for a bittersweet reunion. Pairings: Arthur Hill x Musician! afab!Reader Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut Word Count: 6.8k A/N: Thanks anon for the request! There needs to be more on tumblr for our talented king!!! This fic took a very different turn than what I had intended it to have. I also had planned to have this done like 2 weeks ago, but then I got rejected from the grad program of my dreams and have just been down in the dumps about it for a while so I didn't have the motivation to write for a bit. But I'm back and feeling better now, so I'm going to start writing more regularly.

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Surrounded by the buzzing energy backstage, you stand in a dimly lit corridor. Staff scurry around, with headsets and clipboards, finalizing last-minute details, the hum of voices and hurried footsteps echoing off the walls. Amidst all the organized chaos, the only thing you can hear is the pounding of your heart and the muffled thump of the bass from the stage. As always, a flurry of excited nerves bubble in your stomach right before your cue.

You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm your nerves as your makeup artist puts the finishing touches on your makeup, ensuring it's flawless and accentuates your features perfectly. Simultaneously, your stylist adjusts your top from behind, the outfit meticulously chosen to embody the concept of your album.

Tonight marked the final show of your first solo tour, a moment that once felt like an unattainable dream. And you had relished every moment of the past two months on the road. From the electric energy of the stage to the bone-deep exhaustion of late nights and early mornings, and you loved every single second of it. Yet, amidst the overwhelming excitement, a different emotion began to surface—a subtle pang of disappointment that tugged at your heart.

You made your way toward the stage entrance, still out of view of the audience. Their murmured conversations intertwined with the ambient music playing in the venue. With just ten minutes until your set time, you peered into the crowd, scanning the sea of faces and you searched for one person in particular: your boyfriend, Arthur.

Arthur had been one of your biggest supporters since long before you two became a couple. Being a musician himself, he understood and empathized with all that you had gone through to get where you are today: the late nights, the hours of hard work, the busy schedules, and the stress and fears that came with all of it. When you had broke the news of your first solo tour, he was easily the happiest person in the room.

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The pair of you were cozied up on the couch in your apartment, your legs draped over his lap as you snuggled close, halfway through a movie that you couldn’t even remember anymore when you received a call from your manager.

As you made a move to get up and answer your phone, Arthur’s arm wrapped around you, a playful pout formed on his lips. "No, don't go," he murmured softly, his hand tightened on your thigh to keep you in place.

“I’ll be right back…it’s just, it could be important,” you said softly, offering him a gentle smile before planting a tender kiss on his nose. "Just give me a minute," you reassured him, feeling his grip on you loosen as he gave you a small nod. With a resigned sigh, you peeled yourself out of his comforting embrace, slipping away to take the call.

You paced around the living room, absorbed in conversation with your manager, while Arthur rested his chin on the back of the sofa. His gaze followed you intently, furrowing his eyebrows in an attempt to decipher the conversation from your expressions and strings of “okays” and “uh-huhs”. After a few minutes, you ended your call, spinning on your heels to face him, disbelief etched on your face.

You pause for a moment, dumbfounded, the words caught in your throat. Arthur looked at you expectantly and finally he broke the silence, "So? Everything ok?"

"I'm going on tour!", you screamed out, your voice filled with excitement as you jumped up and down in sheer joy.

He sprung off the couch, reaching you in an instant with his arms wide open.You jumped into his arms, overwhelmed with pure joy. He wrapped you in a tight embrace, lifting you slightly off the floor in one swift move. His wide smile mirrored yours, reflecting the genuine happiness he felt for you and you felt so lucky to have him by your side, celebrating this moment with you.

Gently, he set you back down on the ground, and as you faced each other, his hands found their place on your waist while yours naturally rested on his forearms. "I knew you were gonna make it big," he whispered, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

You playfully teased him back, a grin tugging at your lips. "Look who's talking," you quipped, your tone light and teasing.

He lightly chuckled, his lips met yours in a soft and sweet kiss. As he pulled away, a hand caressed your cheek, his gaze filled with pride. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered, his voice laced with sincerity.

Arthur knew the dedication you poured into your music, especially your most recent album. His acknowledgment of your talent and his unwavering faith in you meant more than words could express. "It was only a matter of time until the whole world saw what I saw," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "How talented you are." Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt overwhelmed by his words.

"Baby, why the tears?" Arthur gently wiped them away, his expression softening as he saw the conflicting emotions in your face.

"I-I don't know what to feel," you whispered, your voice came out shaky, as he wrapped you in another comforting hug. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, and the two of you stood in silence for a moment. “I’m kinda scared babe,” you finally spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper, your vulnerability coming through in the trembling of your words.

You pulled away slightly, your eyes falling to your feet. Arthur, sensing your apprehension, bent down slightly to have a look at your face. "Hey, hey, listen to me," he said gently, his hands lifting your chin to meet his eyes.

He smiled at you warmly, "I, of all people, know how hard you've worked for this."

"And I know you are going to do great,” he continued, his smile growing wider. "And best believe I'm going to be at every single show to support you. You're going to kill it out there, babe."

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Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the backstage manager's announcement: "Five minutes to go." her voice snaps you back to reality.

The reality was that two months had passed, and Arthur hadn’t been able to make it to a single one of your headline shows. Usually, before either of your shows, you’d atleast video call each other, finding solace in seeing his face and hearing his voice over the phone. But this time, you chose to forgo it, not wanting to set yourself up for disappointment again.

You let go of any hope that he might appear for this one and focus on trying to hyping yourself up instead.

But you didn't blame Arthur for not being there, he was currently on tour as well. While he had offered to rearrange a few dates to work around yours, you declined the idea instantly, not wanting to inconvenience him or his fans. So in the end, you two recognized that the two of you just had to make it work, and moving around either of your tour dates was impractical.

Most of your show dates overlapped or were in different cities altogether, making it logistically challenging for Arthur to be there at your shows. Despite this, you managed to catch a few of his shows over the past few months, even flying out to Glasgow the week before, only to have him whisked away to another city shortly after.

He was always extremely apologetic about it, but you couldn't help but feel slightly upset each time. You felt selfish for feeling the way you did; after all, this situation was out of his hands. And dwelling on it only added unnecessary stress. It’s not like it made you love him any less. You were incredibly proud of the success Arthur had garnered and knew how hard he had worked for it. But at the end of the day, you were finding it difficult to shake off the disappointment of him not being able to witness perform live.

So you made a conscious effort to push aside those feelings of disappointment and focus on your performance. You shook out your shoulders and your hands, trying to calm your nerves, trying to get yourself in the right headspace to deliver your finale show. Then, once both your tours ended, you looked forward to having your boyfriend's undivided attention once again.

As you finally step onto stage, highlighted under the spotlight, you are welcomed by the roar of the crowd. You let the booming sounds drown out whatever you were feeling previously and you felt the nerves melt away as you started to sing your music. You pour all you have into your set, feeding off of the electric energy of the crowd.

As your final song begins to fade into the air, you take a moment to catch your breath, taking a little bow. "Thank you London!" you scream, your voice ringing with sincerity. "You have been amazing tonight. I love you all so much!" Tears well up in your eyes as you bid your final goodbyes to the cheering crowd. With a final wave, you make your exit from the stage, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

As you pull out your ear monitor and hand it, along with your mic, to one of the staff members, they swiftly assist you in removing your mic pack. You take a moment to express your gratitude to them and exchange thanks with everyone who passes by at that moment. Left alone for just about a minute, you take a deep breath, allowing yourself to calm down and soak in the moment. A sense of accomplishment washed over you, disbelief as you realized that you had just completed your first headline tour.

Amidst the bustling backstage atmosphere of people packing up, your manager approaches you, enveloping you in a warm hug. "You were absolutely incredible out there," she says, her voice filled with pride.

"Thank you so much," you reply gratefully. "I couldn't have done any of this without you."

As she pulls away, she mentions with a warm smile, "Nonsense, you worked so incredibly hard for this."

You flash her a smile, as she continues, "I've got to head out soon, tuck my kid into bed. You’ll be okay if I leave first?”

You nod understandingly, "Of course. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I’ve got your assistant to keep me company."

She smiles appreciatively, giving you a final hug before bidding you farewell, "Take care, and go celebrate with the band tonight! Use the company card!"

As she heads off, you chuckle at her parting words. Her assistant approaches, congratulating you, "Great show, Y/N. You absolutely killed it out there."

You exchange a hug with him, expressing your gratitude. He then hands you a towel and a bottle of water.

You take the bottle from him with a small smile, engaging in light conversation as you sip on it. As you hand back the half-empty bottle, your gaze catches a familiar head of messy hair entering the backstage area through the stage exit.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize it's Arthur, standing there with a proud smile on his face. It feels almost surreal seeing him at one of your shows in the flesh. You couldn't believe it. Having given up hopes of seeing him at your show, the moment felt too good to be true, as if you're caught in a dream. Especially considering he had his own show tonight as well, the fact that he'd made it felt nothing short of a miracle.

You are pulled out of your thoughts when you hear someone clearing their throat. You look back to your manager's assistant, who shifts awkwardly before speaking up. "Well, I'm gonna go be someplace else," he says, his tone a tad awkward.

"Yeah, sure," you respond quickly, offering a polite smile. "Just call me if you need anything," he adds hurriedly. "I have some things to wrap up." You nod in acknowledgment and offer a quick thanks as he swiftly exits the backstage area.

Now that the two of you were alone, Arthur walks up to you. Despite feeling happy to see him, you couldn't shake off the lingering sense of disappointment. All you wanted was for him to be there, to watch you perform, and the frustration of his absence during your shows still weighed heavily on you. And your facial expression reflected how you were feeling. When he finally reaches you, you make no effort to move.

Arthur had always been able to read you like an open book, and he had noticed the slightly annoyed, tight-lipped expression on your face. Rather than trying to coax you into a better mood with words, he instead pulls you into an embrace. Despite your attempt to appear upset, your body betrays you as your arms instinctively wrap around him, drawing him closer. As he holds you, you can't help but melt into his touch, your tummy doing a little flip as you take in his familiar scent. His presence has a calming effect, momentarily pushing aside the frustration you were feeling just moments ago.

You feel him smile against your hair as he feels you wrap your arms around him tighter. "Hey, you," he murmurs softly against your hair, exuding sweetness. Despite feeling comforted by his presence, you still feel slightly conflicted."Hi," you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than usual.

He then pulls away, his hands gently cupping your face as he looks into your eyes before he leans in, engulfing your lips in a soft kiss. The warmth of his lips against yours elicits a response, kissing him back, but Arthur can sense that something is amiss. "I thought you'd be happier to see me," he says, flashing you his cute heart-melting smile. You try to put on a brave face, reminding yourself to be happy now that he was finally here. "No, I'm excited to see you," you insist, placing both your hands on his chest, though your voice lacks its usual enthusiasm.

You try to force a smile, but then a realization flashes across your features. With a cocked eyebrow, you ask, "Didn't you have a show today? When did you get here?" You attempt to steer the conversation away from you. With a gentle smile, he says "I left as soon as my show ended. I caught the end of your show. You were amazing." He adds, "You did so well out there." You muster a faint, "Oh, thank you, babe," but your smile falls short of its usual brightness. Arthur lets out a sigh as he grows more concerned by the shift in your demeanor.

Arthur's expression turns serious. "Hey, what happened, baby? Tell me what's wrong," he urges gently. You hesitate for a moment before responding, "Nothing, I'm fine." He gives you a skeptical look, and you quickly add, "Seriously, I'm fine," trying to brush it off. Deep down, you feel the urge to cry, and the last thing you wanted right now was for Arthur to see you in tears.

Just then, you hear a mix of voices coming from the stage, and Arthur takes a step back from you, turning to face the direction of the noise. You see the band finally making it backstage after packing up their instruments. One of the band members waves to you as they walk by and calls out, "Hey Y/N, you coming with us for a drink?" Sniffling, you quickly wipe your eyes, determined to rid them of any tears that may threaten to spill. Gathering yourself, you reply, "Yeah, just give me a few minutes. I need to change. I'll be right there with you lot." They nod quickly before heading off to their green rooms.

You turn back to Arthur, who was still eyeing you with a concerned expression and furrowed eyebrows. "Talk to me, Y/N," he says, his hands grabbing yours, his thumbs running comfortingly over your hands. Part of you wanted to break down and tell Arthur everything, how you've hated not having him here, how upset you've been. But you know that if he sees you like this, he would feel absolutely horrible and blame everything on himself.

Swallowing hard, you remove your hands from his and respond softly, "Nothing, I'm just tired." Arthur's concern deepens, and he suggests, "Okay, then let's get you back home. I don't have to leave until the morning anyways."

You quickly interject, "No, it's fine. I think I should go out with the band for a bit. They've worked so hard, I should celebrate with them. I won't be out long." By the look of his face you knew that he wasn't buying it, so you continued, "I'll just go change real quick, and then we'll go out. I think we both deserve a bit of a night out, yeah?" He nods with a smile, and you tell him to wait as you head off toward your dressing room, hoping to compose yourself in private.

You quickly enter your dressing room and shut the door behind you, just wanting a moment to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you stand in front of the mirror, trying to compose yourself. You look at yourself, trying to push away the feelings of frustration and letdown that were bubbling up to the surface again. You remind yourself to be okay, not wanting to start a petty fight with Arthur over something so trivial. With your tour now over you were now happy to have the time to support him.

But, before you could stop them, tears start rolling down your face, tracing hot paths down your cheeks, smearing some of your mascara in the process. "Pull yourself together," you whisper to your reflection, your voice trembling slightly. You grab a makeup wipe from the packet on the dressing table and attempt to wipe away the tears and clean up some of the smudged makeup under your eyes, but the tears don’t stop coming. You try to calm yourself down again, but in that moment, you break down. Finally crying freely as you let your head hang and your hands coming up to cover your face, releasing the pent-up frustration that had been building over the past 2 months.

You didn’t realize that your sobs were now audible through the door until you heard a soft knock. Arthur's voice, laced with concern, seeps through the crack. "Baby, are you okay?" he asks gently. "Please open the door. Tell me what happened."

You hesitate, feeling torn between wanting to let him in and not wanting him to see you like this, afraid that your reasons might upset him as well. As you glance at the door, you hurriedly wipe your tears, attempting to regain your composure. "Everything's fine," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling slightly, "Just give me a few minutes."

Arthur's voice gets slightly louder, "Y/N, don't lie to me, please," he pleads. "I need to see that you're okay. Please just open the door, baby."

You feel a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that he genuinely cared about your well-being. Despite your reluctance, you can't bear to keep him waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to the door and unlock it, allowing Arthur to step inside.

He instantly pulls you into another hug, drawing you close to his chest. His arms envelop you, trying to comfort you. One of his hands moves to the back of your head, gently stroking your hair soothingly as you lightly sob into his shirt. You stay there for a moment.

Sensing your sobs beginning to subside, he gently attempts to pull away, intending to get a better look at your face. "Come on, baby, let me see you," he whispers softly. You shake your head softly, not wanting him to see your tear-streaked face, and snuggle even closer to him. He lets you stay nestled against him, resting his chin on your head and pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asks very softly, trying to be patient with you. He knew that when you got like this, trying to force you to talk was never the answer. He understood that if you felt pressured, you would only shut down further.

You slowly shake your head, not knowing how to even start that conversation. He mutters, "Are you sure?" and you reply with a hesitant nod, "Yes, I'm fine." Though he doesn't believe you, he lets you stay in his arms for a little while longer, sensing your reluctance to open up. After a while, he continues, "Come on, baby, let it out. You know you’ll feel better if you just talk about it." He strokes your hair soothingly, encouraging you to share your feelings.

He says softly, "We can stay like this for as long as you want, but eventually, you're gonna have to come up for air." You chuckle slightly, feeling a bit lighter after releasing all the built-up emotions. With a deep breath, you pull away from his embrace, looking up at him with puffy eyes, smeared eye makeup and tear stained cheeks. Though you'd stopped crying, looking at the tender loving look in his eyes makes tears well up in your eyes again.

He lightly cups your face, wiping away at your tears. You nod, signaling that you are about to speak. Despite the concern in his eyes, he gives you a reassuring smile, silently encouraging you to go on.

"Okay, yeah…," you begin, your voice trembling slightly. You pause, trying to gather your thoughts before continuing, "Arthur, it's just that... Okay, now, whatever I'm about to say, you shouldn't get upset by it, alright? I’m probably just making a big deal out of nothing," His worry deepens, his brows furrowing. "Baby, just tell me. You're scaring me now," he urges softly.

Softly chuckling, you reassure him, "It's nothing like that," as you gently guide his hands away from your face, holding onto his forearms. You finally say, "Arthur, it's just... it hasn't been the easiest not having you here," your voice shaky with emotion. "I know we’ve talked about it before, and I know I’ve repeatedly said that I’m okay with you not being here all the time and that I understand most of the time you just couldn't physically be here." Tears begin to well up in your eyes again as you continue, "But, when I imagined this whole tour thing in my head, I just imagined you at all my shows, and being able to celebrate with you backstage afterwards." You wipe away at your face, trying to compose yourself, and add, "You know what? It's stupid, just forget about it," before glancing down, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Arthur's expression softens as he listens intently to your words. "I'm sorry, Y/N" he begins, but you quickly interrupt, insisting, "You have nothing to be sorry for." Your head is still down, but he gently lifts your chin, meeting your gaze. "No, I should," he says softly, his eyes reflecting remorse. "I should have been more understanding. I absolutely loved having you supporting me at my shows, and I was just so happy whenever you were there. I am a dense idiot for not realizing that you would, of course, want the same thing. I should have tried harder to be here." He pauses, his voice filled with sincerity, "And I'm sorry for that."

"Arthur," you start saying, but he interrupts you, his voice tinged with remorse, "Even if I wasn't able to actually be here for you, I should have checked in more often with you... I feel like such a shitty boyfriend."

You quickly interject, "Hey, no! Honestly, I've been fine mostly. It's just that seeing you here today just brought everything out, that's all. I'll be okay in a bit," you assure him with a small smile.

"You don’t have to hide your feelings from me, or hide your tears. I love you and your emotional ass, so tell me everything, okay? Especially when I’ve done something to upset you, no matter how small you think it is. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t tell me something. And I promise you, I will never get mad at you," he reassures you, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here for you, always."

You look at him, at a loss for words, and he simply pulls you into a tight embrace. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as his encircle your waist. "I love you so much, baby," he whispers softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "And I’m so proud of everything you've achieved. You're not selfish at all for wanting me here. I’m the selfish one for not being here," he admits, his voice filled with remorse. "I promise I’ll be better in the future," he reassures you, holding you close.

You exhale deeply, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Meeting his gaze again, your foreheads gently touching, "Just having you here now means everything to me." Your voice is filled with sincerity and gratitude. "I love you too, Arthur," you whisper. As you finally manage to muster a genuine smile, he returns it warmly. "There's that smile I love so much," he remarks, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your mouth. You can't help but let out a small giggle in response.

Feeling a lot better now, you glance at his white T-shirt and let out a little laugh. "Sorry about your shirt," you say, noticing the makeup smudges and wet tear spots on it. He chuckles in response, "No, it's fine, it adds character." Then he teases, “You know, if I sell this shirt on eBay, I can make a ton of money from it. It'll be an authentic Y/N creation." You giggle, playfully rolling your eyes and lightly swatting at his chest.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious about your appearance, you mutter, "God, I must look like such a mess right now," as you wipe at your cheeks. With a sigh, you pull away from him and walk slowly back to the dressing table. Grabbing another wipe, you clean up your messy face, taking off the remaining makeup as well.

Arthur follows you, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watches you in the mirror. "Never," he murmurs softly, "you are the most beautiful woman I know, even when you cry." His words make you chuckle a little, scoffing lightly, and you see him smile with warm eyes.

He moves your hair aside, pressing a tender kiss to the exposed skin on your shoulder. "You always look perfect to me," he adds, "And besides, you looked like an absolute angel on stage today," he compliments, his eyes filled with admiration as he gazes at you in the mirror. You can't help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth spread through you. One of your hands comes up to rest on his, your head leaning against his. In that moment, all felt right again in the world, just the two of you together.

Once you're done wiping your makeup off, you turn in his arms to face him, leaning against the edge of the table. He looks at you with a tender smile, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. You take a moment to admire his handsome features, your hand gently caressing his face, tracing the lines of his smile with your thumb. As you smile back at him, you notice the slight dark circles forming under his eyes.

"Did you manage any sleep at all today?" you ask, your voice laced with concern, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek. A slight frown forms on your lips as you await his response. He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "No, I'm just running on adrenaline," he admits with a tired smile.

You nod sympathetically, understanding the toll a busy schedule can take. "How did your show go by the way?" you ask, your voice filled with genuine interest as you gaze at him intently. He starts detailing the performance, his eyes aglow with excitement.

You listen attentively, captivated by his every word. As he talks, you can't help but feel a sense of pride and joy for him, your expression mirroring his enthusiasm. "You really are amazing, Arthur," you compliment him with a warm smile. He responds with a playful scoff, "Oh please, stop it," earning a laugh from the both of you.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, gently tucking your hair behind your ears. You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “I’m sorry that I absolutely freaked out on you” you say, feeling slightly guilty but he quickly dismisses it, "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about."

"I mean, I was expecting you to run up and jump into my arms, but maybe next time." he says playfully. "Well, go stand over there. Give me some space for a run-up,” you suggest, playing along. Chuckling, he shakes his head, his hands gently resting on your waist. "No," he replies with a grin. You lean in and plant a soft peck on his cheek, returning his smile.

"But seriously, if you ever feel like this again, about anything, just talk to me, okay?" You nod in agreement, feeling incredibly grateful to have such a supportive boyfriend. "I promise," you assure him, squeezing his hand gently.

Arthur wraps his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer as he gently strokes the exposed skin on your back, a playful smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. Your hand instinctively moves up to his chest, a tingle spreading down your spine at the warmth of his touch. "You know," he murmurs softly, "I missed you." You respond with a giggle, teasingly saying, "Aw, Arthur, I missed you too." He leans in to kiss you, but you tilt your face away at the last minute, laughing as he ends up planting a kiss on your cheek instead.

"Well, If you missed me so much, then you should have come to more than just this show…. I mean I’ve been to pretty much every other one of yours," you jokingly tell him, a playful twinkle in your eye as you reach up to place a kiss on his jaw. He feigns hurt, "Oh, way to kick a guy when he's down babe."

“Hey, it's not like you’re completely forgiven,” you tease, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He pouts slightly, "You're right, I’ll make it up to you somehow." he says with a little wink, leaning in closer. His warm breath tickles your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips inch closer to yours. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as he places his hands on the table, trapping you between his body and the table. "In fact," he adds, "I can start right away if you want."

Without another word, his hand moves to the back of your neck, closing the distance between you two. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, and as the intensity of the moment grows, you melt into his embrace, lost in the sensation of his lips against yours. He deepens the kiss, his grip tightening at your waist, digging into the exposed flesh, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Your hand begins to move from his chest and slowly makes its way towards his pants, your fingertips lightly grazing the fabric over his crotch, but Arthur gently redirects your hand, placing it next to you on the table.

You pull away from your kiss, gasping for breath, confusion evident in your eyes as you gaze into his deep brown ones. Arthur lightly shakes his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. "It's all about you today, baby" he whispers softly against your lips. You visibly swallow, and it wasn’t long before his lips trail away from yours, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel the press of his lips against your skin, your skin feeling hot under their touch.

You feel him smirking against your neck before he cups you below your ass, effortlessly lifting you up off your feet. You couldn't help but giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carries you over to the couch, gently placing you down.

You shuffle back slightly until your back touches the armrest, making room for him to join you. He places his between your legs as he leans in, capturing your lips in another deep kiss. "Think I could help you out of these clothes, baby?" he murmurs against your lips, his hand finding its place on your hip, “I'm sure they're very uncomfortable.”

You laugh in response, placing a hand on his chest and gently pushing him back, eyeing him playfully. "You first," you tease, a smirk dancing on your lips as you nod towards him, “Go on.”

Arthur stands up, wasting no time in taking off his clothes until he's left only in his boxers as you eye him up and down taking in the sight of the gorgeous man in front of you. He’s quick to come and help you with yours, reaching for the waistband of your pants, along with your panties and sliding them off, his hands tracing over your thighs.

As he moves to remove your top, you wince, causing him to freeze in concern. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asks, his brow furrowing with worry as he searches your face for any signs of discomfort. You can't help but laugh at his reaction. "No, no," you reassure him, shaking your head. "I just forgot I had fashion tape on to keep my top in place."

He asks again, his voice filled with concern, "Are you sure you're fine?" You nod, "Yes, Arthur, I'm fine." With a seductive smile, you pull him closer by his shoulder, your eyes dark with lust. "Now come here," you whisper, "I forgot how much I enjoyed seeing you without your shirt on."

He chuckles, as you run your hand over his chest, tracing your fingers along his tattoos. He dips his body down to kiss the skin above your breasts, tenderly placing kisses on the red marks left behind by the tape. Moving lower, he takes one of your tits into his mouth, his lips wrapping around your hard nipple while his hand caresses your other breast. A moan escapes your lips at the sensation of his tongue, and your hands instinctively move to his hair, gently tugging as he groans in response.

He trails kisses down your body, each touch sending a sensation of electricity through you. You revel in the softness of his lips as he moves lower, his kisses tracing a tantalizing path over your skin. He works his way down to reach your inner thighs, gripping one of your thighs firmly, he carefully maneuvers it over his shoulder. His kisses grow more urgent as he inches closer to your needy core. Your skin tingles under his lips, the wetness between your thighs increasing with each teasing kiss.

His fingers dip into your folds, collecting your wetness, "You're already so wet for me, baby," he murmurs in a low voice, his voice thick with desire. You stifle a moan at his words, your breath catching at the look of lust in his eyes. "Fuck, Arthur," you breathe out, your voice laced with need, as he attaches his lips to your clit. His tongue explores your wet folds with a slow, gentle pace, driving you wild.

He starts sucking a little harder, eliciting a loud moan from you, and you feel him groan against your clit, the vibrations of his voice sending waves of pleasure through you. Your moans and groans only make Arthur increase his pace, and you shut your eyes, throwing your head back. The sensation of his finger dipping into you makes you gasp. You manage to open your eyes, finding him looking back at you with hooded eyes, the intensity in his gaze sending your heart into a frenzy.

You knew that Arthur was good with his mouth, but he never failed to surprise you each time, and you could feel yourself edging closer to your high. He continues to suck and stroke your clit until you finally feel your orgasm bubble up to the surface. You scream out his name as you reach your peak, your body trembling with pleasure, cumming into his mouth.

He cleans you up with his mouth as best he can before he pulls back, placing your leg back on the sofa. He supports his weight by placing his hands on either side of you, attaching his lips to your neck.

"I'm not done with you yet," he whispers against your neck, his eyes dark with desire as he gazes up at you. "You think you still have it in you for one more?" Your brain is still clouded from your recent high and you struggle to form coherent words, just nodding in response.

Arthur lets out a low, throaty laugh before crashing his lips against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He starts to take off his boxers, kicking them to the side and settles in between your legs, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

After a bit, he reluctantly pulls away from you, your lips chasing his as he makes his way to where he had flung his jeans. Rummaging through them, he finds his wallet, pulling out a foil packet. He quickly rips it open and slides it onto his already hard length before swiftly returning to you.

He slowly grabs your thighs, spreading them wider as he positions himself between them. He gives you a kiss on your jaw before he lines himself up, before he finally thrusts into you. “You ok baby?” he asks. You groan in response, managing to mumble out a breathy, "Yes, Arthur... fuck," reveling in the sensation of him filling you up. The pleasure evident on Arthur's face drives you wild, causing you to melt into the couch beneath you.

Arthur grabs your waist as he quickens his pace and his mouth finds its way to your chest again.

The sensation of his hands on your skin, his mouth on your chest, and feeling him deep inside you becomes almost overwhelming and you grip onto his biceps, your nails digging into his skin.

“God, Y/N, I love you so much,” he murmurs, his words sending your heart soaring, but the intensity of the moment consumes you. The pleasure courses through your body and you feel your orgasm approaching much quicker than before. You moan and arch into him, desperate for release.

Almost as if Arthur read your mind, he breathes out, "I’m so close, baby." You respond, your voice barely above a whisper, "Me too." He furrows his eyebrows, trying to hold on longer, wanting to make the moment last, but it becomes increasingly difficult when you're a gorgeous, moaning mess under him.

He feels your walls clench around his shaft as your orgasm washes over you, and you moan his name aloud. Arthur lets a groan before he spills inside of you with one last thrust. Collapsing on top of you, both of you slightly sweaty, he rests his forehead gently on yours as you both pant against each other.

Once you both get your breathing leveled out, you look at him, feeling his hand come up to softly caress your cheek. "Am I forgiven now?" he laughs as he asks you. You smile back at him, "I think I might consider it now," you reply, laughing softly.

"I love you, Arthur," you say softly, gazing into his eyes. A smile at you, warmth spreading over his handsome features before leaning in to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

As you're about to suggest that the two of you should go get cleaned up, you hear a knock on your door, your head whipping in the direction of the sound. "Hey, are you ready to go? We'll leave in a bit," you hear the voice of your bandmate peer through the closed door.

"Yeah, just us five more minutes, we'll meet you out front," you scream back, and you hear him reply with an "Okay" before his footsteps retreat.

Turning back to your boyfriend, you grin mischievously. "I should get mad at you more often," you tease.

But he looks at you deadpan and says, "No, please don’t,” and you both share a laugh. “I hate it when you're upset with me," he adds with a playful smirk before planting a quick peck on your lips and getting up.

He helps you to your feet and says, “Now let’s go celebrate you, baby,” before the two of you head off to get cleaned up and step out together.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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