#I have no idea where they will go from here
Note
more hotch with teacher!reader? maybe she’s trying to take a bunch of things into her classroom one morning and hotch jumps in to help (and flirt with) them :)) i adore you’re writing thank you for sharing sm with us lately!!!
you’re so welcome ily ty for requesting! <3 fem, 1k
Today, you and your class are going to make dioramas with a heavy focus on paper crafting. For the last few days, you’ve helped them make plans on what they want to create, and then you scoured the internet for origami and craft tutorials to suit. The only one you couldn’t find was for poor Jamie’s tractors. You’ll figure it out, you’re sure.
You’ve been saving cardboard boxes, toilet roll inserts, and egg cartons for months. There’s a total mountain of things to bring in, so you’re here early. You figure if you carry huge armfuls, you can get everything inside in three trips.
“Oh,” you say, as a cardboard box tumbles to the ground, and somehow doesn’t give you a clearer view, “whoops. I’ll pick that up. Jeez.”
You step over it and almost slip.
“Careful,” someone says.
You jump and send an egg carton skittering across the floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me!” You twist your head, the cardboard that had been resting on your face falling down into your collar. “Oh, Mr. Hotchner.”
Of course it’s Mr. Hotchner. Aaron, predictably.
“Aaron,” he says, leaning down to grab the things you’ve dropped, before he opens his arm toward you. You lean away from your tower, embarrassed but relieved when he takes the bulk of your tall tower from you.
“Thank you, Aaron. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early. Is everything okay?”
“Let me help you with this.”
Avoiding the question. You and Aaron carry your cardboard inside to the classroom, where you unlock your door (and you never would’ve been able to do without his rescue). He follows you to the arts and crafts table toward the back of the room, and you deposit your stock.
“Thank you,” you say when he places his armful down.
“It’s no problem. Can I help with the rest?”
“Would you, please?” you ask. “It seemed a lot less before today.”
You bring the rest back in. He’s the picture of a perfect gentleman and carries more than you each time, which isn’t to say you can’t have carried the same as he did, but it’s nice for once to be the one looked after. As a teacher, you get used to giving.
He doesn’t make you ask him twice. “I’m here early because I wanted to talk with you if you’re free, before I head into the office.”
“His Aunt is bringing him today?” you ask about Jack.
“I didn’t manage to get home in time last night to see him, but I’ll be here at pick up time.”
You nod, hyper aware that you’d swayed the conversation again. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“It’s about Jack. Well, it’s mostly about me. I’d like to ask you for a favour, if you’re willing.”
“Oh, sure. Of course.”
“You haven’t heard it yet.”
You flush under the weight of his knowing smile. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. So…”
“It’s hard sometimes to get Jack to tell me what you’re doing in school. I had no idea he’d be making dioramas today. And I don’t need your lesson plans, I’d never expect that of you, but I was hoping you could summarise the week for me on Fridays? Or whenever you can. I don’t need updates on how Jack is progressing, it could be a couple of words on the topics you’ve chosen, just so I know what he’s doing while I’m away.”
You’ve never been asked to do it. Parents of kids in the second grade aren’t usually clocked in on what their kids are learning. School is still half fun at this age, your most important job is to make sure they can all read with acceptable fluency. And it’s hard because their parents don’t help, but it’s fine. You love teaching them something so important, and you’re ecstatic to meet someone who’s actually interested.
You beam. “Yeah, of course I can. I can do that, I don’t mind. Nobody ever wants to know what we’re doing, which is such a shame! I mean, they’re so excited and of course their parents care, but if they have just a little bit of support it makes a huge difference. I can totally send you my lesson plans, Aaron. I’d like to.” You laugh to yourself smugly. “I never get to show them off. They’re extensive. And they take ages.”
“You want to show them off?” he asks softly.
His voice is velveteen.
“Is that awful?” you ask.
“No, it makes sense. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble, but I… feel guilty, when I call him and ask how school was, and he can’t remember what happened.”
“Don’t feel bad about that. The kids can’t remember what I told them ten minutes ago.”
He isn’t like you, in that he’s very still. He doesn’t move or fidget, which makes his looking at you all the more obvious. “Thank you,” he says.
“You’re welcome.”
“Can I pay you back?”
You catch one of your bracelets and twist it around your wrist.
Aaron told you without hesitation that he profiles criminals. He can read their expressions, habits, and idiosyncrasies as thoughts and feelings. He can trace movement to the source. You’re positive he wouldn’t keep asking you such leading questions, or insist you call him by his first name every time you see him, if he didn’t already know that you find him attractive.
“How would you do that?” you ask.
“Is there anything else you… need help with?”
A million things, but you’re no idiot. You can read subtlety too.
“Well, I have a bunch of textbooks on the top shelf in the stockroom you could help me with.” You smile shyly. “It gets hot in there, though.”
He begins taking off his suit jacket. “That,” he says, his gaze on you with all the tenderness and amusement of someone who’s known you longer, “won’t be a problem.”
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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not my world [ prologue ]
– Summary: One day you wake in a foreign world with nothing to your name except the clothes on your back. A talking cat named Grim, gives you your only lead to return home. Seek out the seven gods and pray they answer your plea.
– Warning: Yes, this series is a yandere thing, although this post really isn't. Gender-neutral reader.
– Characters: Grim.
– Note: Think of this like a test, just to see how it's received. Yes, this is based off that outlander post I made a while ago. I was thinking I could make this a long-lasting series. However, it really depends how y'all like it. There's not too much going on here, because I'm trying to set the scene and I wrote it all fairly quickly. However, it's just a small taste. So, let me know what y'all think.
– Pages: 11
“So… you’re saying that you woke up here on this beach with no explanation, but you’re from another world so you have no idea where you are? You fell asleep in your own bed, in your own home, and now you’re here, with no way to go back?”
As far fetched as it sounded, you could only grimly nod. A dream, this should’ve just been a nightmare. But that was confirmed to be false when you pinched yourself multiple times and tried to splash yourself with the nearby ocean water. Everything felt so real, from the sand between your toes to the breeze in the air and the sunlight drying the water off the surface of your flesh. You wanted it to be nothing but a dream, especially when you found a talking cat with a forked tail and blue fire in his ears.
This was your third attempt trying to explain things to this impish but rather harmless little furball, and each time he seemed more puzzled than the last. His little black nose twitched as he sat in front of you, his paws digging into the sand as those strange eyes of his studied you closely. His voice was grating, high-pitched, speaking with a tone of doubt. “You don’t look like you’re from any of the seven nations. No pointed ears, no beast features, not even a magestone to your name! Well, it makes sense. A nobody like you obviously wouldn’t have a magestone anyways.”
That was probably meant to be an insult, but considering you didn’t even know what a magestone was, you didn’t really take any offense at all. Pointed ears, beast features, magestones, annoying talking cats– you really didn’t care about any of that. “Because I’m not from whatever seven nations there are. I already told you where I’m from.”
“Yeah, well I never heard of wherever it was you said. So get lost, would you, human? I’ve claimed this beach alrea–”
A low growl rang in the air. Swiftly you scanned your surroundings, fearful that you were about to be attacked by some mythical beast. However, when you looked back to the feline who now looked quite ashamed, you realized the noise came from his stomach. Actually, the little fellow seemed pretty scrawny, and you could just barely make out the shape of his ribs poking out of his sides.
Standing up, you brushed off the sand clinging to the oversized t-shirt you fell asleep in. Thankfully, you at least had sandals, which was better than waking up here barefoot. With one look around, there didn’t appear to be anyone for miles, and no sign of civilization here. Leaving the cat as your only option to turn to, as jarring as it was to be speaking to a cat. “Er… Look, if you could at least help me find people, a shelter, a city, something– then I’ll see about getting you something to eat. Deal?”
“I don’t need your help! But… I’m curious, so I’ll follow anyway.”
“Great…” You sigh, as you decide to follow a path that leads away from the shoreline and into woodlands. At the very least, you were not completely alone. This would be much more terrifying if you had woken up and there was absolutely no one around. “So, do you have a name or are you, like, feral?”
“I’m not feral!” It hissed as it walked in tandem beside you, keeping up with your steady pace. “Since I am so great, I will allow you to know my name. I am the all-mighty Grim! One-of-a-kind and destined to one day become strong, powerful enough to defeat even the seven gods!”
“Seven gods…?” Was this some sort of fantasy setting? It had to be. First he mentioned pointed ears and beast-people, and you were having a conversation with a talking cat! Maybe seven gods were the least outlandish thing you’ve heard today. “Well, I’m (Y/n).”
“You’ve never heard of The Seven? How stupid could you be?”
You frowned at his toothy little grin as he ridiculed you for your knowledge on a place you just ended up in. “Well excuse me for not knowing anything about this place I just ended up in!” Tearing your gaze away, you saw a cabin up ahead. It appeared abandoned, so there wasn’t any hope of seeing another person yet. Still, there may be something useful inside, so you approach.
Trying the knob, you found the lock jammed. The wood of the front door was rotting, some of it in splitters and the windows were shattered. With a few strong kicks, the door became dislodged and finally gave way beneath the pressure.
“You’re excused– hey! Tuna!” You didn’t even bother stopping the feline when he rushed into the abandoned cabin, sprinting after the few cans of tuna he spotted on an old table. At least he would get to eat.
You didn’t particularly care for canned fish that’s been sitting there for who knows how long. In practically a blink of the eye he had devoured three whole cans of the stuff and licked the remnants off of his whiskers.
“Okay, okay, since I feel so bad for you, and because you found these tuna cans, I’ll be your guide. That way, I don’t owe you nothin’ after this! Maybe one day, if you’re still around, you’ll see me ascend to the ranks among the archons and you can brag like I knew him! Isn’t Grim so cool and praise worthy? I might even remember you and accept your prayers! You can thank me now.”
At his smug expression, you squinted incredulously as he began walking down the path in the middle of the woods once more. Following hesitantly, thankful there was daylight and this seemed like a particularly nice forest, save for the very depths of it further away from the road that were dark due to the cover of leaves and branches above. However, the trees closest to you weren’t so dense, and the sunlight filtered through the thin foliage. The dirt road was wide, but slightly covered with scattered blades of grass and underbrush, as if no one had used it in a long while. Squirrel-like critters darted about in trees, strange fruits hung on low-branches, and foreign flowers sprouted alongside little ponds.
“I’ll thank you after an explanation and a little help. So, what’s this about gods?”
“Let’s see… I’ll put it so simple that even a baby can understand! There are seven nations, and each one has a god. These gods are super-powerful! I’m talking crazy-strong, like they can level mountains and raise the sea type of miracles!”
As he strolled beside you, his forked-tail swished back and forth. For now it seemed like he knew where he was going, so hopefully that was a good sign. Right now, you had no idea what to do or how to get home. However, if magic existed in this realm, then surely there would be some way to get back. There had to be, for your own peace of mind.
“Maybe if you pray to one, you’ll get an answer. But the chances of that are pretty much zero, because only idiots rely on the gods since they almost never answer. You’d have a better chance trying to actually meet one of them and try to talk to them in person, but good luck with that!”
As the road neared a cliff, you caught a glimpse of the scenery. It was a kingdom, a whole city that began right at the edge of a vast meadow. The rolling valley ended at a river, across a wide stone bridge where the city began. Miles and miles of cobblestone roads lined with two to three-story buildings, and rising above it all was a white palace with red conical roofs that pierced the very sky. It looked fantastical, like something straight out of a peculiar little story book, especially considering how unnaturally bright the flowers were and how there was the occasional mushroom as tall as a tree.
Never before in your entire life had you ever seen a single place like this. Some stupid naive little part of yourself had hoped that perhaps you were still in your world, but this was simply proof that tore that little shred of hope to bits. “What is this place…?”
He paused to scratch a spot behind his ear. “That’s the capital city of Heartslabyul. You see that big palace all the way over there? That’s where the god of fire lives. One day, I’m gonna live in a place even bigger, grander, than that! My worshippers will build, brick by brick, a towering temple that reaches the very heavens! It’ll make that palace look puny in comparison!”
Dumbfounded, you nearly get left behind in your stupor once the feline begins to walk down a rocky slope again. You follow, as Grim yammered on and on, “Fire is harsh, just like that place. Trust me, I tried staking a claim there, but I was kicked out! Can you believe it? Me! They just threw me out as if I were nothing! Anyways, I already forgot what you were looking for, but whatever it is, you’ll probably find something there––”
“A way home?” You reminded him, a tiny bit irked that he seemed to forget so easily. For such a haughty little beast with nothing to his name, he was very conceited.
“Ooh yeah, right. That. Gods have all this magic and wisdom from their years and stuff, so they gotta know something. But if I were a god, I wouldn’t answer you, to be honest.”
Grumpily you point out the obvious. This cat-like creature was far from the divine that you were currently picturing. “You’re not a god.”
Yowling in response, Grim shot back with irritation, “Yet! Not a god yet!” When he spat, a small puff of smoke and a spark of flames he tried to aim at the dirt caused his blue ear flames to flicker stronger until one stray flame popped like a hot scorching coal. It went flying directly at your face, and all you could do was react quickly enough to try and step back while your arms and hands covered your face.
However, no pain ever came. “How are you doing that?!”
“Doing what? And you need to watch it with––” When you began to lower your arms, you saw it. When you had shielded yourself, your knuckles had been against your cheek and so your palm was facing outward. Floating in your open palm, was that small spark that came from his ears and nearly burned you. Immediately your eyes widened, and the surprise didn’t end there. As if fluctuating with your shock, the fire became a small yet harsh monetary crackling burst that caused both you and the feline to yelp and stumble back in disbelief until your palms were normal once again.
“You big fat liar! You do know magic! Where’s your magestone?”
Seeing his gray fur stand on edge, you quickly answered, seemingly just as confused as he currently was. “I-I don’t, I swear! I don’t even have a wizardstone! That has never happened to me before! This, magic, stuff like that, talking cats, huge mushrooms, none of this is supposed to be real!”
“Magestone! Not wizardstone! M-A-G-E!”
“Same difference, what do I care?” You had to double-check your hands, wanting to trick yourself again into believing it was something that could be easily explained. Yet this didn't seem like that. This was something else entirely that didn’t make sense, it couldn't be explained. Not while you were still reeling and staring at your own two hands in utter disbelief. “What the hell was that…?”
Sniffing the air around you, Grim paced slowly around you as his whiskers twitched with each sniff. After several rounds circling you, he plopped down in front of you and peered up at you quizzically. “I really don’t smell a magestone on you… but you used my fire! It was blue! Everyone knows you can’t use magic without one! Wait a moment… this is perfect!” Immediately brightening up, the little creature gave a toothy grin as he declared, “From now on, you will be my servant! One day when I am a god, I will make you a demi-god! Everyone knows the great gods have divine or mystic servants of some kind! So you will be my henchman! Count yourself blessed, human.”
“What…?” For now you didn’t even want to touch anything, especially yourself. What if you just tapped something and it was set ablaze? Although you felt fine physically, you were not completely okay. Mentally your mind was scrambled with trying to comprehend everything going on and being said, and now you had the additional burden of accidentally burning everything you touched.
“Maybe it has to do with the fact that you aren’t from here, so this world’s rules don’t even apply to you… yeah, that’s it! This is great! Does this mean you can wield other elements? We should try! If it storms tonight, we’ll stand at the highest cliff and wait for lightning to strike!”
“Definitely not!” You screech in reply, currently trying to prevent yourself from panicking and having a destructive mental breakdown all at the same time. Keeping your arms away from your body and fingers spread apart, you tentatively try grabbing stones and sticks and blades of grass to test the ability and see if anything would be set ablaze. And yet, nothing happened, so you slowly began to relax, as much as was possible in that moment.
Grim watched with great intrigue, hoping, wishing, to see you burn something straight with your hands. However, when he saw not a single spark or sign of smoke, he sighed, “Don’t you realize the possibilities! A small chosen few can wield magic like that, and even then, it’s only one element! This means that you might be able to do more! We’ll be legendary, beating every foe we come across!”
“Woah, woah, woah, who said anything about beating foes?” Cutting off that idea right now before it would get out of hand. It had only been a few minutes, not even an hour, and even you could see that Grim was a handful. “I am no fighter. If I magically somehow have these weird abilities now, doesn’t mean I want to fight with them. Are you insane? The most I’ll do is like… instantly heat up my food or make a light in the dark. That’s it. Actually, that first one sounds pretty useful…”
Angrily throwing his paws up in exasperation while falling back on some patches of grass, he groaned, “Ugh, but that’s so boringggg! Where’s your creativity? You could become a god among gods!”
Choosing to ignore his less than enthusiastic response, you proceeded, drawing his attention back to something he recently mentioned. Awkwardly you grip your hands, twisting your wrist between your fingers, yet nothing hurts. Everything felt normal, as if you hadn’t just wielding fire a minute ago. “You said a god of fire resided over there in that city, right?”
“Yeah, you’ll fit right in with all those hot-headed fire-breathers now that you have a bit of magic.”
As the two of you neared the bottom of the cliff and approached a smaller section of the forest that would lead directly to the road that branched off into either a vast meadow or the gates of the kingdom, the world seemed to stop when a loud rumbling rang through the air. The birds ceased their singing songs and the squirrelish creatures paused their chittering chattering. The ground shook and in the far distance, miles and miles behind the palace where there looked to be nothing but untamed wilderness, balls of fire spewed forth from what you had thought were mountains but were actually volcanoes. Seeing the smoke pour out from the peak, you debated running right back to the beach which was in the opposite direction of the rupture in the earth.
While initially startled, Grim quickly relaxed and began his walking again just as the sounds of nature resumed their tune. As if by some miraculous work of magic, the volcano stopped its rumbling just as quickly as it began, and the smoke receded as well. Like a pot popping on a stovetop and simmering over with water, but its vapor and contents contained by a top, that’s how rapidly it started and ended. Grim proceeded to walk in front of you to lead the way. Sensing your question before you even voiced it, he called out over his shoulder,
“Don’t look so panicked, we’re not gonna die. That happens like once a week. It used to be more sparse but… well, like I said, all the humans in the kingdom are a buncha hotheads. Especially their king! Everyone knows the god of pyro has the worst temper of all the seven, that’s why the volcanoes go off when he’s all angry! All you gotta do is gather up the courage to ask him what you want to know, and pray that he doesn’t incinerate you where you stand.”
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im working on a thought here but i think a crucial component of supporting and advocating for liberal and progressive ideas is you have to trust people to muddle through mistakes. i see a lot of people that clearly want *safety* for marginalized people but their proposals amount to putting everyone in a padded room with their hands on a well lit table forever. we have to sanitize media, we have to protect people. we can't hurt anyone, we can't risk anyone-- but we can constantly constantly surveil each other and make new rules against ever doing the wrong things. you know, the bad things, the dirty things, the things that hurt you and make you sick and ruin everything for everyone forever. it's our moral duty, isn't it? to make the world cleaner and brighter and safer?
i think, probably, it would help a lot of us to take a deep breath and consider that you have to make mistakes in life. and so does everyone else. you learn things and you fuck up and you pull through. and you can warn people, if you think they're going to make a mistake, but i don't think you have a right to stop them from doing whatever damn fool thing they're up to.
i think that's what's really bothering me about current progressive discourse, and a lot of the proposed policies. a lot of kids are really scared right now that any single mistake is fatal, and while they're not totally wrong-- the economy sucks, there's still a plague going on, and america is a carceral panopticon--it's still not their *right* let alone their moral obligation to build a system where no one has the freedom to fuck up.
i don't know what the solution is here. a world with more resources would be great. a world with less deadly risk, too. but i'd settle for a world where we recognized and applauded everyone's human right to do weird stupid bullshit and learn better--or not--on their own time.
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Here (Part One)
Summary - Azriel's worst nightmare has come true: his mate is nearly killed.
Warnings - Mostly Angst in this one
A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series.
I wanted to write a two-part, or possibly a three-part of this idea I had in my head. I promise it won't be all angst, more like a hurt/comfort if you will! Please let me know in the comments if you wish to be tagged in the second and possibly third part of this piece :).
I hope you enjoy it.
Rage. All Azriel could think was rage.
He pushed his way into the front doors of the River House, his mind reeling and his thoughts were focused on one being. Everything on his body was stiff, from the top of his neck down his backside to his feet that were pushing him to the main sitting room to the right. Voices were heard, worried and angered voices that were mixed and the tension felt along the Shadowsinger. He was moving so fast that his own shadows were trying to catch up to him, warning him and coaxing him to be calm. But he was not calm.
You were nearly killed. His mate and wife were almost killed. He was seeing red.
He abruptly threw open the doors, seeing all who were present stop in their conversation and look at him as his wide eyes were filled with anger. Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, and Cassian were all there in a semi-circle, horror was on their faces alongwith anger and festering wrath and outrage. But Azriel was not thinking about them, he was thinking about you and what happened.
What he felt in the bond.
"Where is she?" He asked in a low tone, not caring that the tone was a bite and his eyes were glaring at the Inner Circle. Each of them, directly in the eye, knowing fully well they wouldn't lie to them since it was Rhsyand who contacted him.Feyre, looking rather remorseful and on the verge of tears seeing Azriel like this, walks over to him with hesitance. His eyes locked with hers.
"Azriel.." She started, but Azriel's eyes snapped to her in such a way that it made Freyre freeze.
"Feyre," he said her name with such a bite that it seemed not himself, but he was not himself. Feyre's eyes widened in shock, the sound of his voice saying her name seemed lethal in a sense, he'd never spoken to her like that before. If it was any other circumstances, Azriel would have been chewed out by Rhsyand for the way he spoke to his High Lady. But Rhysand stayed quiet, inwardly knowing not to step on the Spymaster's toes at the moment.
Feyre glided over to Azriel and took his fist in her hands, coaxing him to at least open his hand up to allow her to lace her fingers in his. Her bright eyes searched his, determination on her face, "Come with me, I'll take you to her."
Azriel followed willingly, knowing Feyre would guide him now as she led him out of the sitting room and up the stairs. All Azriel could think about was you, the pain he felt deep in the bond, and how that alone almost made him fall to his knees. He heard your scream, the piercing scream that sounded like your own soul was being sucked away from you. Azriel knew you could handle pain, he knew you weren't a pushover. You were tough as nails, one of the toughest Illryians Azriel has ever known. Not just tough in strength, but tough in spirit and in your soul.
To feel that pain and hear it, Azriel had never been this scared in his long life.
Feyre ushered Azriel to one of the guest rooms, pushing the door open. Azriel froze at the sight in front of him, his heart plummeting in his chest and his blood going cold. There you were, passed out cold on your side in the middle of the massive bed that was right in the middle of the room. You were stripped down to your undergarments, a thin sheen of sweat along your skin as you were clutching a massive body pillow in your arms and legs and your wings were sprawled out behind you. A massive red slash into your left wing, right along the bone from top to bottom, was seen and so visible to Azriel that he was fuming. Madja was perched on the bed, ointment was pressed into your wing and herbs were in vials next to her on the nightstand.
Azriel saw your unconscious body, the pale skin tone that was clear evidence of blood loss, and even the shine in your hair was gone, it was like he was seeing a ghost. You seemed more like a shell, a hollowed shell of the being that Azriel knew and loved. After Feyre released Azriel's hand, Azriel walked over to kneel next to you to be nose-to-nose with you. He searched your face, the coolness in your cheeks, and the dark circles under your eyes. Even the way you breathed while sleeping sounded uneasy, laboring really as Azriel tried to hold back his own tears.
His own worst nightmare came true right in front of his eyes: his mate being harmed and Azriel having no way of stopping or preventing it. He feared this for as long as you two were together, that something could happen to you because of who he was and what role he played for Night Court. But of course, you told him that nothing would happen to you, that he was too worried or paranoid.
It was now a sick reality.
Azriel felt his heart breaking as he tentatively reached out and touched your bare arm that was on top of the body pillow, feeling how cold you were and the sweat still evident. You whimpered, still asleep and sounding like you were in insane pain as Azriel felt tears in his eyes. Tears for seeing his mate in such pain, tears for the rage he was trying to bury deep down.
Tears for the regret of not killing the very fae he had a hunch did this to his mate.
"She'll survive," Azriel's head snapped up at Madja, who was ringing out a blood-stained washcloth into a basin. Her face was solemn, but still calm as she took some more ointment along her fingers and reached over to place a generous coat of it along the open wound on your wings. You whimpered in pain, your face contorted as Azriel immediately rubbed your arms and nosed your hair lovingly.
I'm here, baby. I'm right here, I got you with me. Stay with me, baby. Please, stay with me. I need you, I need you here with me.
Azriel was saying so many things through the bond, hoping and praying to The Cauldron that you could hear his voice as he kept talking to you inwardly. He wanted you to open your eyes and show you the brilliant blue orbs that he loved, he wanted to hear your laughter and voice to know that you were still breathing.
You were there, but you seemed so far away.
"What happened?" Azriel finally asked, his voice raw from the tears as his fingers were still massaging your arms soothingly. His eyes went to Madja, who was giving him a serious look. The stare-down was enough to have Feyre feel as though she was interrupting something, but Madja then jerked her head to the left. Azriel's eyes followed in that direction, seeing what she was he was directing him to stare at. His eyes went wide.
A singular Ash Arrow.
"The arrow sliced along her bone," Madja explained, getting up from the bed and walking over to the bowl where the arrow was sticking out. Water was inside stained red in blood and something darker, almost black. Azriel watched in silent anger as Madja took a spare cloth in her fingers to lift the arrow without her fingers touching the actual arrow itself. It was long, stained in your blood, and looked precise in design.
"It was an inch away from being fatal," Madja explained as she showed the arrow to Azriel, "Your mate was lucky to have been fast enough to not have it be fatal to her. But the poison in the arrow is doubled compared to other ash arrows I've dealt with in the past."
Azriel felt his shadows flicker against his sides in anger from what he heard as he spoke low, "Doubled?"
"Whoever shot this arrow, had all the intentions in killing your mate, and making it painful," Madja explained, Azriel's eyes darting to her as well as Feyre's. Though she was still at the doorway into the guest room, she could see all that Azriel was reacting to. She felt it in the air and sensed it, she too also hated seeing you nearly on death's door and so close to leaving this world. Azriel was happy with you, immensely happy, and to think of you leaving him and your son in this world without you there would break her heart.
"I spoke to your High Lord and High Lady about her condition and what needs to be done for her to recover back to full health," Madja explained thoroughly as she dropped the arrow back into the bowl with a splash, making her way back to her work station, "Your mate needs to stay here to fully heal. Her wings are tender and delicate now, any movement will make the poison spread,"
"It's still in her?" Azriel asked hoarsely, almost in pain himself. Feyre moved then, no longer being able to stay in her spot away from her friend as he was grieving for his wife. Standing behind him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, his shadows licking her fingers and palm as a silent way to thank her. Somehow, Feyre felt it too, watching Madja as she was packing some of her things.
"The poison is minimal and tolerable for now, I took most of it out. It's up to your mate and her willpower for the poison to evaporate within the next day or two, in fact, it's critical. Which is why she needs to stay here and let the medicine and her Illryian strength do the work to get herself back on her feet," Madja informed Azriel and Feyre, clutching her bag as she stood by the bed.
"She'll be safe here, Az," Feyre softly said to Azriel behind him, Azriel heard the softness in her tone as she spoke again, "She'll stay here at River House for as long as she needs to."
"I'll come by tonight and check on her, and from then on I'll come daily. For now, she needs rest, peace, and quiet," Madja explained, taking in a long breath as she gave Azriel a soft bow, "I'm sorry for this, Shadowsinger. This is no easy thing to conquer. But I stand by what I said when she brought your son into the world: your mate is strong. One of the strongest female Illryians I have ever met in my life. You must have faith that she'll make it out alive, it is vital not just for her, but for you."
Azriel drank in all she said as she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her to leave Azriel and Feyre in the room. There was silence for a moment or two, the only sound that was heard was Azriel's labored breathing and the slightly opened window near the bed. He looked at you again, feeling his world falling apart all over as he attempted to hide his tears. But Feyre caught on and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hug him from behind. The tears fell, and Azriel squinted in pain as he rested his head on the mattress, though still asleep and not realizing that your mate was breaking.
"She's right here, Az. She's right here alive with us okay?" Feyre said to him as she hugged him tight.
"I failed her," He moaned into the mattress, Feyre shaking her head as he sobbed, "I swore to protect her and keep her safe when we got together. It's my fault—"
"Don't do that! Don't say that Azriel. This was not your fault, do you hear me?" Feyre reassured Azriel. Azriel clung onto Feyre, still crying into the sheets and feeling as though you were slipping away without him being able to cling to you. But the fact that Feyre was there, holding him close and telling him that you were alive, it was a small sliver of hope for him to hold onto. So many things were flooding in his mind: Who shot the arrow? Who was in charge of this attack? Why would you be the target?
Who did Azriel need to hunt down and kill?
"She's going to stay here, perfectly safe, and I will make sure she is comfortable, Azriel. You have my word," Feyre promised Azriel as he lifted his head from the mattress, shoving his tears away aggressively with his fingers.
"Are you saying that as my High Lady?" Azriel asked, not meaning to sound bitter about it but his voice sounded it. Feyre hummed, moving to kneel next to Azriel so he could see the love in her eyes and sincerity. He adored that about Feyre, how kind she was even after all she went through as a human, and how she saved Prythian from Kind Hybern. She was still kind, still gentle in her heart though fierce when she needed to be. But the one thing that made her strong was her fierce friendships, how she held her friends close and would never let them go.
Like now.
"I'm saying that as your friend and someone who loves you," She replied softly, trying not to cry herself as she gave Azriel a soft smile, "Nothing is going to happen to her here, and you are more than welcome to be here with her while she gets better. Your family is our family too Az,"
Azriel panicked, thinking about the one member of the family who would be affected.
"But what about Alec? Oh, Alec," Azriel panicked again, his son was now on his mind. What was his son going to think when he heard about his mother? What was Azriel going to say? His son was far too young for this chaotic world that was filled with hate and pain. Being only 4 years old, Alec was still so innocent and so kind, just like his mother.
"He's at school with Nyx right now, and he can stay here with you too," Feyre said to him calmly, seeing his panic, "I'll make up the guest room across the way for you two to sleep in while—"
"I'm staying in here with her," Azriel said to Feyre as he looked back at you, seeing you shift slightly and cling onto the pillow some more, the pain was less evident on your face as Azriel spoke again, "Alec can use the spare room, he can sleep with Nyx if he wants. But I'm not leaving her side, Feyre. Never again,"
Feyre must have sensed it would be a losing argument on her end when it came to trying to persuade Azriel into anything else. But she would have done the same if it was Rhsyand there on the bed, even knowing fully well Rhsyand would do the same if Feyre was the one wounded and near death.
With a singular kiss to the top of his head, Feyre squeezed his arm a pinch, "I'm going to make you some food so you can eat in here. We're all downstairs if you need anything, but just stay here and be with her. Nesta will pick up Alec from school and bring him here, don't worry about him right now, we'll take care of him. You focus on your mate,"
Azriel gave her a soft nod, feeling the love she had and the warmth that Feyre could only produce sink into him. Although he felt like he was alone on an island, he wasn't truly alone. Not with the Inner Circle behind his family to care for them and to rally around him in this time.
"Thank you, Feyre," He thanked her, and as she walked out of the room to give him time with you, Azriel felt defeated. He took a chair to bring over to be at your side, then opened a window or two to bring in the fresh air, and then sat in the chair to watch you sleep. Not just sleep, but heal.
Even after hearing from both Madja and Feyre that you were strong enough to make it, Azriel couldn't just rely on hope. He felt hopeless in not being able to do anything, be anything, to bring you back. To wake you up and shine your blue eyes on him, to laugh again and fill the air with your bell of a laugh, and for you to smile and outshine any gem imaginable.
Rhysand needed his cousin, Alec needed his mother, but Azriel most of all needed his mate.
As you slept, Azriel was thinking over all the pieces of this complicated puzzle that needed to be placed together. He wanted to search every inch of every Court to find the very being that nearly killed you and almost took you away from him. He wished to find whoever was responsible and inflict so much pain in their life that they would beg for mercy. Any torture he inflicted in the past, he would surpass it.
But for now, for now he simply wished for you to wake up again.
To Be Continued….
A/N -Once again, let me know in the comments if you wish to be tagged for Part Two and Possibly Part Three!
Thanks for reading!
Tagging - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup
#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x you#Azriel#acotar fanfiction#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#a court of mist and fury#a court of silver flames#azriel spymaster#azriel x oc#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#fanfiction#writing#daddyazriel#daddyazrielandalec#azriel x female reader#acomar#acowar
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That’s That Me Espresso
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader
Summary: Charles and Y/N have been dating for a few weeks, they met after the Suzuka Grand Prix. Even though their relationship has been short lived, there’s something about her that has Charles down bad. They are living proof of how the boyfriend should always like the girlfriend more.
Warning: Grammatical and spelling errors
A/N: For those who voted for idea 2, about Charles being auctioned off for charity? Yeah, I'm not vibing with that idea anymore. But i am working on the fanfic where Charles thinks Y/N likes Lando.
Charles was never one to chase girls. Sure, in every relationship he was in, he was the best boyfriend he could be, he would be so devoted to them. But in his current relationship, he has never felt this way before. He was away for the Imola Grand prix and he couldn't sleep so he decided to call Y/N. After a few rings, she answered.
"Bueno?" Y/N asked sleepily.
"Hello, mon ange, did I wake you?" Charles asked.
"Sort of, is something wrong, Charlie?" Y/N asked.
"Oh nothing, I'm just having trouble sleeping without you here, you know?" Charles said.
"I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to this Grand Prix, cariño, i just have a lot of in-person meetings. Plus, you've been to countless races before, you would think you'd be used to sleeping alone." Y/N said.
"Yes, but that was before i met you. Now when i'm in bed alone, it feels like I'm missing something.” Charles confessed.
“You’re so sweet. But seriously, muñeco, you have media day in the morning, and I can’t have you be sleepy during the interviews, Fred would kill you.” Y/N said.
“No he wouldn’t, I’m il predestinato, the prince of Ferrari.” Charles said.
“Muñeco.” Y/N warned.
“Alright Mon ange, I’ll go to sleep, but please FaceTime me before you go to work.” Charles said.
“Of course, Charlie. Te quiero mucho, Goodnight.” Y/N said.
“Yo también te quiero, Goodnight.” Charles tried his best to say in Spanish and he hung up.
The next morning, Y/N woke up, showered, did her after shower routine, got dressed and she was about to make breakfast when Charles decided to FaceTime her. She answered.
“Muñeco, how are you? Did you get some sleep?” Y/N asked.
“I did actually, it took a while though.” Charles said.
“Well when you’re back in Monaco, I’ll be sleeping by your side.” Y/N said, she set her phone against something in the kitchen so she can make pancakes.
“Sounds perfect, I’ll be counting down the days.” Charles said.
“You think you’ll make podium?” Y/N asked.
“I’ll dedicate my podium to you, Mon ange.” Charles said. They kept talking while Y/N made her breakfast, Charles also took his phone with him to eat when his room service came so they had breakfast together,
“Charlie, baby, i need to go to work, okay, I’ll talk to you soon, te quiero.” Y/N said.
“Yo más.” Charles replied and hung up the call. There was a knock on his hotel room door and he opened it to see Carlos. “Good morning, Carlos.”
“Morning. Were you talking with Y/N?” Carlos asked
“Yes i was.” Charles replied smiling.
“Ay, I should have known, she has you completely smitten.” Carlos says.
“I know, mate, there’s just something about her.” Charles said, sighing like a person in love.
“You are whipped, it’s entertaining to see you like that. We need to head to paddock now for the interviews.” Carlos said before him and Charles left the hotel room.
Meanwhile, Y/N was finishing up her third meeting of the day when she got w FaceTime call from Y/N so she excused herself.
“Charlie querido, what is it? I’m technically still in a meeting.” Y/N said.
“Sorry Mon ange, I just wanted to see how you are, I am on break right now and then I have more interviews before the race,” Charles said.
“I’m fine, just a little tired, I call you later tonight okay? Then you can tell me all about your day. Te quiero.” Y/N said, blowing him a kiss.
“Yo más” Charles said, doing the same thing before hanging up. Y/N was about to enter the conference room again but she was stopped by her assistant.
“You got that man wrapped around your finger.” Monica commented,
“Well i wouldn’t necessarily say that I have him wrapped around my finger. Pero es si, lo tengo mal (But Yeah, i got him down bad).” Y/N said.
“How? Like what’s your secret?” Monica asked.
“There’s no secret, it’s just that me espresso.” Y/N said.
“Ha ha, no go, you have a meeting to run.” Monica said. Y/N entered the conference room to continue the meeting.
Her workday was done and she got a text from Charles and it was a link to one of his interviews. She clicked on it and she was watching it but there was a question that Charles answered that surprised her.
“Charles Leclerc, what is your favorite saying?” The interviewer asked.
“I Don’t know if it’s a popular saying or an actual saying in general, but my girlfriend says ‘that’s that me espresso’. When she was younger, her mom would say she was like a shot so espresso because of how hyper and energetic she was as a child, basically bouncing off the walls. So now when I ask her a question about anything she does, she’ll say that’s that me espresso or it’s just that me espresso, meaning that’s just how she is. How do I get crying babies to stop? That’s that me espresso, I have no idea but I guess I just have a calming presence.” Charles said laughing. Y/N stopped the video and FaceTimed Charles,
“Hey Muñeco.” Y/N said.
“Hello, ma Belle, did you see that interview?” Charles asked.
“I did, you used my phrase.” Y/N said.
“Of course I did, it’s my favorite saying in the world, it perfectly describes you. You are a shot of espresso, a moment with you has me smiling for hours, I can’t get enough of you.” Charles said,
“Eres tan cursi (you are so cheesy) but i love that about you.” Y/N said.
They continued talking until it was time for bed.
Race Weekend was done and Y/N can continue working from her home office, she didn’t didn’t have any meetings to attend to in person, she was free. She was finishing up some files when the doorbell rang. Y/N got up and answered the door and she saw a huge bouquet of her favorite flowers (mine are peonies because of Blair Waldorf).
“Whats this?” Y/N asked and the bouquet of flowers were lowered to reveal a smiling Charles Leclerc. “Muñeco!”
“Mon ange!” Charles exclaimed, they entered her apartment and they hugged as soon as charles put the bouquet on the kitchen counter, he spun her around and out her back on the ground to leave her kisses all over her face. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow, did you come here straight from the airport?” Y/N asked, taking in Charles’s hoodie and baggy jeans,
“Yes I did. I stopped by the florist first, obviously.” Charles said, gesturing to the bouquet,
“They’re beautiful.” Y/N said. “What brings you here?”
“Because I wanted to tell you up something important. I know we haven’t been dating for a long time but I have never felt this strongly about someone, I love you, te amo, estoy enamorado de ti (i am in love with you).” Charles said. Y/N starts tearing up,
“Ay muñeco, yo también te amo.” Y/N said, hugging him. “Je suis amoureux de toi.” Now it was Charles’s turn to tear up, she just told him she was in love with him too. They kissed.
“I fall in love with you more and more each day, I can’t get enough of you, how do you do that?” Charles asked, brushing Y/N’s hair back. Y/N just shrugged.
“That’s that me espresso.” Y/N said and both of them laughed, Charles pulled Y/N onto the couch and started talking about where to go out today,
The End
I had no idea where I was going with this short imagine but I hope y’all like it!
#hispanic reader#latina#hispanic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic
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Part I (here), Part II
Trey Clover vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Jamil Viper x GN! Reader
In which the way to the Prefect’s heart is through their stomach! At least, according to three of NRC’s students…
I got the idea from @recreyomakesdoodles , from this post! Thank you so much, hope you liked it!!💕
Tagging people I think would be interested: @aruis4nosleep , @tinseltina
Warnings: food/eating
Notes: I decided to split this into multiple parts because I never have any restraint while writing and this ended up being long. Enjoy :D
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“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Azul pushed his glasses up, balancing a stack of takeout boxes emblazoned with the Mostro Lounge logo on them. Cold blue eyes met Trey’s golden irises. Trey cleared his throat, shifting a heavy picnic basket from one hand to the other. “What brings you here, Azul? I thought you’d be busy at Mostro Lounge…”
Azul snorted, “the Prefect knows to expect me today. Clearly, you are the one intruding.” Earlier that week, he overheard you wailing to your friends about your upcoming History of Magic exam. Apparently, this unit was on Atlantica’s magical history - a topic that was, unfortunately, giving you trouble.
Fortunately, Azul was a mer who grew up learning the history by heart. Naturally he offered you assistance in exchange for having you taste-test some dishes. And how could he not help a poor, unfortunate fellow student like yourself?
Besides, if he wanted to bring along some personally cooked meals to Ramshackle, under the claim that you both would be there ‘for hours, so you may as well try some foods (that I made!) for the upcoming Lounge menu (that I run)!’, that was nobody’s business. And certainly not Clover’s business.
Trey crossed his arms, easily holding the heavy picnic basket like it weighed nothing. Azul could smell the buttery pastries and powdered sugar through the closed basket lid where he stood. “Riddle sent me to give the Prefect an invitation to the next Unbirthday Party. I thought I’d give them some treats to… sweeten the deal.” Though Trey had a disarmingly pleasant smile with the pun, his eyes bored into Azul’s.
Azul frowned. “That couldn’t have been more than a simple text. Aren’t they friends with your first years, as well?” He asked, remembering your first year friends that he’d turned into anemones.
Trey adjusted his glasses and averted his gaze, a telltale deflection sign that Azul didn’t miss. “Well, it’s more official coming from the Vice Housewarden.” “And I suppose the baked goods are complimentary?” Azul sniffed disdainfully at the basket, “Surely, the prefect needs more than pastries. A proper meal,” he emphasized.
Trey’s eyes narrowed, “a basket of baked goods is better than whatever deal you’d have for them,” he nodded to the boxes Azul carried. “Everyone loves a good old fashioned pastry. Can’t say the same for seafood.” Azul opened his mouth to retort, when suddenly both of their ringtones went off.
IM SO SORRY AZUL!!!!! I got caught up with something, can I come over tomorrow?? I likely won’t be done until later, the headmage has me doing stuff 😭
TREY!!! Tysm for the invite, you didn’t have to go out of ur way to give it in person!! ill definitely be there at the party! 😄 sry I’m not there atm, Crowley wanted me to do something for him
Trey frowned, reading your text. Azul huffed, shouldering the stack of food boxes, muttering “looks like today was a loss.” Trey sighed, “well, it can’t be helped…” he made a mental note to put the pastries in the Heartslabyul fridge and just deliver it to you tomorrow, under the guise of ‘checking up on you’ after working for Crowley. The two of them trudged down the path to the Hall of Mirrors, heading back to their dorms.
The two of them walked in silence until Trey abruptly said, “I don’t know what you want with the Prefect, but I hope you have their best intentions at heart.” Azul turned to give Trey a withering look, “I assure you, when it comes to the Prefect, I have nothing but good intentions.” As he stepped into Octavinelle, Azul smirked and muttered, “especially regarding their heart.” Trey lingered for a bit, staring at the Octavinelle mirror with an unreadable expression. “We’ll see about that,” he said aloud in the empty Hall, then headed back to Heartslabyul.
—•—♣️🐙🐍—•—
Meanwhile, you sighed heavily, collapsing onto the chair. The cafeteria was pretty much empty, save for the random student or two. It was already darkening outside, and you were hungry. Crowley wanted you to do something for him just before lunch, and soon half your Saturday was gone running around NRC. You’d even lost track of time, and missed Azul’s study session and Trey dropping in! You groaned, hearing your stomach growl loudly.
“Prefect? What are you doing here?”
You glanced up, seeing Jamil with a large container of tupperware and other small containers. The delicious scent of curries, labneh yogurt cheese, and freshly made pita made your mouth water. Despite yourself, Jamil caught you looking at the boxed-up food more than once.
“…Crowley had me running errands, and I may have skipped lunch…” your voice grew quiet near the end. Jamil raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “I actually ended up making too much food for Kalim,” he said, moving around the table to sit next to you. “There’s enough for an extra person, and I’ve have already eaten.”
Your eyes widened, and Jamil started dishing out some curry and flatbread for you. Bright-colored curry sauce and chickpeas flooded the platter, wafting a delicious scent. As Jamil ripped a piece of pita, your stomach growl loudly. Your face felt warm. Jamil only chuckled, pushing the plate he’d conjured towards you. “What about Kalim?” You asked, feeling bad. Jamil smiled, “Please, go ahead. There’s enough for Kalim and you.” A warm smile grew on your face, and you gave Jamil a one-sided hug before digging in. “Thank you! You’re my savior!”
As he watched you eat, a tender look grew on Jamil’s face. He shifted the food containers so he could watch you while nibbling on some flatbread. It wasn’t difficult to determine that you were off on Crowley’s whims again - with you running around the school and being gone for several hours. With that in mind, it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault if he accidentally made too much food, so he thought he’d drop it off at Ramshackle later. It was sheer luck that you’d dropped by the cafeteria!
You hummed, soaking up some of the leftover curry sauce with your flatbread, “this was delicious, Jamil. Thank you so much.”
Jamil smiled genuinely, but a devious look came into his eyes when you looked back at your plate. “Please, Prefect, allow me. Wait here.” He took the plate, going to the kitchens to box up some food for you to take back. Walking back to you, he handed you the container, “It’s getting late, I can walk you back to Ramshackle.”
The two of you set off, with you holding some of Jamil’s boxes. “This was… really sweet of you, Jamil,” you smiled. You knew Jamil always had his hands full, whether it was taking care of Kalim or managing literally everything else. Maybe the food was making you gush, but you were definitely grateful for the impromptu meal. As you opened the door to Ramshackle, you gingerly handed the boxes back to him.
“Ah, wait,” he shuffled them and held a large one out to you. “This one is yours.” Your eyes widened, “Jamil, this is a lot-“ “Please.” Your eyes met his dark grey irises, and warm gratitude filled your chest. “Jamil, I… I really don’t know what to say. I have to repay you somehow-“ Now that was what he wanted to hear.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to try making some new dishes,” he glanced at you. “I’ve been needing someone to taste test them, and Kalim won’t be available…” You nodded eagerly, “Of course! I’d love to help you!” You said your goodbyes, and as the door shut behind you, Jamil had a calculating smirk on his face. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.
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Thanks for being patient everyone!! Hope you enjoyed this part, reblogs and comments are forever appreciated 💕
lmk if anyone wants to be added to the taglist! Take care shrimpies~ 😘
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twst#heartslabyul#twst trey#trey clover#trey clover x reader#octavinelle#twst azul#Azul ashengrotto#azul ashengrotto x reader#twst jamil#scarabia#jamil viper#jamil viper x reader#mostro lounge#tw: food#tw: eating habits#calcified writing
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Can I request a smutty fic for Aemond, please? The base idea I had is that he's been at war for a while and finally reunites with his wife, so it's quite passionate. I leave the finer details to your expertise ♡
Sacrifices with Intimacy
PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!fem!Reader
WORDS: 1,805.
WARNINGS: p in v sexual intercourse, female oral receiving, praise kink, breeding kink, swearing.
A/N - haven't written for Aemond in a long while, so forgive me if this is trash! sorry about the long wait, Ez. I hope you genuinely enjoy this! all this new content for Aem/Ewan is stirring some deep feelings! thanks for being so patient and kind.
The toils of this war had felt like an eternity, and undeniably, you had missed your beloved husband dearly...
Aemond Targaryen, the second son of King Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower: your betrothed and in eager time, your doting husband, was called at arms to fight the war in the name and honour of his elder brother, the King now, Aegon II. Aemond expressed no hesitation to act in defence, even if this meant sacrificing sacred time with you. As much as his reasons were to defend the honour and dignity of his family, he fought in battle with intent of smothering all grounds of harm towards you by all means. He thoroughly intended to vanquish any potential enemy or ounce of threat, kin alike, if it meant that you live a life free from suffering.
A sacrifice needed to fulfil this meant his prolonged absence in your life. An absence felt too deeply indeed, like an open gash, exposed to the natural chill of the air. Until the familiar, thunderous roars and bellowing gush of winds roared across the daylight, roars and wings that could only belong to one great dragon...Vhagar.
"My beloved—"
"Aem!"
An embrace long overdue, like no other. Against your body, Aemond's hold felt constricting yet oddly comforting, pressing you as deep against his slim physique as possible.
"You've returned sooner than I'd anticipated—"
"Do you not wish me to be here, my dearest? Has my early return not pleased you so?" He huskily murmurs, his voice deep: warming your heart so, as it had been so long since you'd heard the familiar tone. A deep chuckle echoing to your ears, as you nuzzle against his neck, longingly inhaling his musky scent.
"Well now that you're here, I may never let you go again—," You faintly whisper, enough only for Aemond's ears, as the dragon-keepers urgently tend to the monstrous Vhagar.
"Have your duties in Harrenhall come to a close? Need you take your place now here in King's Landing?"
"For the time being, my beloved. For the foreseeable future, I am to remain here... Rightfully beside you."
Despite all fruitless attempts of his Grandsire, the Hand, and the Dowager Queen, Alicent Hightower, urging Aemond to attend council meetings to arrange further battle plans and to discuss progress: Aemond remained solidly adamant in his stance.
"I've sacrificed enough of my time fighting this war in the name of this family. An evening to spare with my wife, I should warrant at the very least."
He was to spend the entirety of the evening, every passing hour, minute and seconds with you, soaking each other up to make amends for such deficiencies.
Your bare bodies entwined against each other, feeling the heat radiating from his muscular body.
"You've grown leaner, my love... Are they not feeding their troops?"
His calloused hands take their sweet, precious time lightly tracing over the curves of your naked body: scoring goosebumps to course over your soft skin where he had hovered. His touch had become alien to you now, and yet you craved for him to never let go.
"They feed us, although not well enough... And not for the delicacies that I desire," his lowly voice made your eager ears prick up, excited to hear his every word, to listen to him speak mindlessly for hours on end. A growl etched as his good eye lingered over your calm, sensual figure.
Slowly, you kneel yourself up over towards him, straddling his chest: his rough hands gripping the outer flesh of your tender thighs, squeezing and tapping at the meat, nudging for you to move up closer towards him. A sly smirk stricken across his handsome face, a face now masked with lingering yet subtle scratches and marks, proof of his succession in battles. Your finger lightly tracing over their lightning-like marks, gently until reaching the infamous sapphire eye.
"Do you still find me handsome as the day we wed?"
"Always, Aem—”
"Do you still want your husband to eat that pretty cunt of yours out? Been craving for me, silly princess, even if you deny it... I can feel you throbbing against me now."
Now knelt, hovering ever so closely to his face, you slowly sink yourself down, feeling your cheeks now well rested comfortably against his broad shoulders. His ravenous tongue spared no second plunging itself into your walls, as his lips curled and lapped at your moist entrance.
"Hmm—" A deep, penetrating sound vibrating from his lips against yours, you felt your dead weight plunge deeper, the walls of your silky cunt feeling tight and tickly against his guzzling mouth. You felt your body bobbing subtly up and down, in sync with his heaving chest, as his breaths grew deeper and denser.
"My husband, the saviour of the Seven Kingdoms... A-And I have h-him a-at my beck and call, b-beneath me."
Breathless and exhilarated, your wetness stimulating beneath you, sensing just how drenched your inner thighs feel. Intertwining your fingers with Aemond's, releasing his firm grip from your thighs, guiding his large hands up over your hips and waist, planting his palms against each breast.
"Miss these, baby? Cause they've missed you... M-Maybe if you f-fill me up, these can get f-fuller, huh? D-Does that s-sound good?"
Earning another deep, muffled "hmm", his calloused, large hands kneading at your breasts, squeezing at the tender flesh in the cup of his palm. A teasing thumb, flicking at your perky nipple, earning a rapid moan. Sensually feeling you up, his precise movements and gestures receptive to your body: as though he had never left, not a day behind. Your mindless body now succumbed to his every move, a stirring feeling in the pit of your stomach desperate for more, it seemed as though Aemond could read your very mind subconsciously.
Nudging you to move down, released from your trance, his breathing heavy yet gradually began to compose itself. A slick, clear film saturated his reddened lips and mouth, although wasting no precious he lapped that up too, savouring your taste.
"Ask and you shall receive, my spoilt, little princess... Lay down."
Despite Aemond having done most of the work, drowning in his prized possession, the sensitive spot between your legs felt achingly weak though desperate to have more of its fill.
"Now let's see if my angel can still handle this cock, huh? You cannot even begin to fathom, ugh—"
Towering build over you, as he adjusted his position over you, you felt meek and feeble against him, yet wanted nothing more than for him to devour you whole.
"Just how fucking much, I've been waiting for this precise moment... To feel your walls swallow my cock, huh? Fill you so full and good of my seed."
His long cock had grown stiff since the moment you'd removed the last single piece of cloth, torn from your body. Feeling his tense, sprung member against every crevice and naked surface of your body was painstakingly feverish: like some taboo toy you had been separated from, eager to play with once again. Its veiny, blush tip tauntingly traced lightly at your entrance, etching deeper and deeper with each breathless word spoken, and every moan whimpered, until his mass was completely plunged into your velvety vanity.
"Seven Hells— Forgotten just how tight you were, baby. I can feel you clenching, missed me that terribly, hmm? Poor thing... Must've been going crazy without me."
"Y-Yes, A-Aem— Y-You have no idea."
Aemond was more often precise and cautious when it came to sex: his movements and pace often calculated and deliberate although a different side completely showed itself now. You had to give him praise. It had been far too long, especially for newlyweds since you had both been last intimate. He was desperate for you, just as much as you had. He had grown impatient now, yearning to be with you, to be inside of you: keen to take his please with you in this very moment, for who knows when he could be next called upon and needed, only to disappear once again.
"That's my good, good girl... Always doing so well for me, having waited so long for me. Deserving of all my special treatment—"
His harsh thrusts were formidable enough to sway you as you lay still. Aemond gripped tightly at your wrists, keeping you and himself steady. His breathing once again resumed a faster, more grunted pace, as his thrusts grew careless. Only having the one goal to fuck you senselessly full of him.
"Mayhaps I'll fuck a babe into you, princess... Does that sound good? Leave a part of me inside of you to grow and to hold."
"Ughh— Yes, Aemond. Fuck me full. F-Fuck me till I s-swell, b-baby."
"Your commands, princess," A breathless grunt uttered after each word bespoken. His once straightened, neat loose strands, now a mottled, sweaty mess of platinum locked, strangling against your fingers, as you keenly relished in pulling and tugging at.
Whenever he was close enough, your lips suckled onto his fair, pale skin of his chest and neck, leaving remnant, red marks shaped vaguely of your plump lips. The fury of the pain from between your inner thighs was undeniable, for it had been so long since you laid with your husband. Your walls at first foreign to the excruciating stretch, as his long, rigid cock plummeted and burrowed its way into your cervix.
The long-awaited high was surreal, Aemond taking his pleasure in shooting his warm, fresh load deep into you, as you felt your unison wetness coating him. The mess seeping through the gaps. He remained nestled inside until he felt sated that you had taken his seed.
Embraced in each other's loving arms, the beauty in the intimacy with Aemond was that it never ceased with the sex. He often took pride and initiative in taking care of you even after, an old habit that seemed he did not forget so easily...
"I'll have the maid prepare a warm bath my dearest, in the meantime you stay in bed."
Hastily wiping the sweat off, dressing himself once more, only managing to don his trousers, he seated himself down beside you again.
"You mustn't feel haste to care for me, Aem. You were the one that went to war... You must rest now."
His longer fingers reached out, soothingly brushing aside the loose strands of hair, away from your beaming face. Instinctively, a warm smile radiating from his face, as he seized your presence.
"I shall rest when you are safe. It is my duty as your husband to protect you, and as your lover, to love you. Those vows I spoke many moons ago, I have not yet forgotten, nor will I. Everything I do, I do for us... I love you."
general taglist - @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1
Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog
credit for divider - @/pommecita
#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#hotd#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen imagines#aemond imagine#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond fanfic#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#prince aemond#aemond x y/n#aemond x fem!reader#alicent hightower#otto hightower#vhagar
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Birthday Buddies | O. Piastri
Summary: At a joint birthday party organized by mutual friends, you and Oscar find yourselves unexpectedly meeting for the first time while cutting the cake.
— part of the Birthday Bash fics
pairing: oscar x fem!reader
wc: 1.4k
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© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work
The days leading up to your birthday party were filled with whispers and excitement. Lando, your best friend, knew how much you loved celebrating your birthday, usually with a couple close friends, cake, and lots of alcohol.
Which is why, when he told you that his teammate's birthday was on the same day as yours, you were excited yet bummed. While you had a birthday buddy, who you still hadn't met, you thought that Lando would be spending his time with Oscar instead of you.
A couple days before your birthday, Lando brought up the idea of a joint birthday party, so you could meet Oscar and your best friend would still be able to spend time with both you and his teammate. Before you could answer verbally, your smile revealed your thoughts and the decision was made.
While you knew about the party itself, the details remained a closely guarded secret, shrouded in anticipation and mystery. With each passing day, you pestered Lando for some hints, mainly to annoy him rather than actually wanting to know what he planned.
"Hey, Lando, gimme a hint about the party," you asked, unable to contain your curiosity as you cornered your best friend.
Lando chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's literally tomorrow, you can wait," he replied, causing you to roll your eyes. "But I can't wait," you retorted.
"Sorry, mate, my lips are sealed," he replied, flashing you a knowing smile. "But I can't wait for you and Oscar to finally meet. It's going to be great."
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Lando's cryptic response. "What do you mean? Is there something I should know?"
Lando just shook his head, his smile widening. "I just have a feeling it'll be a good night," he said, patting you on the shoulder.
With that, he slipped away, leaving you with more questions than answers. The anticipation only grew stronger as the day went on, each passing moment filled with excitement for what was to come.
As the evening of the party arrived, the excitement in the air was palpable. Lando's home, which was where the party was held, buzzed with energy as guests streamed in, with laughter and conversation filling the room, creating an electric atmosphere.
"There's the birthday girl!" Lando exclaimed, making his way through the crowd to greet you, followed by a chorus of cheers and applause from others as they spotted you.
You smiled, feeling a surge of warmth at the enthusiastic welcome. "Hey, Lando! Thanks for putting all of this together," you said, giving him a grateful hug.
Lando grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Of course! Happy birthday," he replied.
Your smile grew, "thank you."
A close friend of Lando's was the DJ for the evening, Martin Garrix, who was sipping on a beer while bouncing along to the songs. As the music swelled and laughter filled the room, there was still no sign of Oscar.
"Hey, Lando, have you seen Oscar yet? It's his birthday too, after all," you asked, scanning the room in search of the missing birthday boy.
Lando chuckled, shaking his head. "Classic Oscar, always running a bit late," he replied, flashing you an amused smile. "But don't worry, he'll be here soon."
You nodded, feeling reassured by Lando's words. With that, you continue mingling with the other guests while awaiting the introduction to the person who you share a birthday with.
Once Oscar joined the party, he initially kept to himself, observing it all with a quiet curiosity. He took in all the details—the colorful decorations, the lively chatter, the enticing aroma of food wafting through the air.
Despite his initial reserved demeanor, there was a warmth in his eyes as he walked through his teammate's home. He seemed content to simply soak in the atmosphere, taking everything in stride.
Occasionally, he would exchange polite nods and smiles with other guests wishing him a happy birthday, but for the most part, he remained on the periphery, content to observe rather than actively participate, even if he was one of the main guests.
Speaking of, his eyes wandered around to find you, wanting to meet the person who he heard so much about through Lando.
It wasn't hard to spot you since you were standing with a couple of friends, attracting all the attention to yourself as you told a story with loud hand gestures. Your laughter rang through the room, reaching Oscar's ears who couldn't help but smile as well.
However, before he could make a decision to walk towards you, he was roped into another conversation by some of his other friends, those he knew throughout his karting days.
As the evening progressed and the energy of the party reached its peak, Oscar began to relax and let his guard down. He found himself drawn into conversations with other guests, his quiet demeanor giving way to genuine engagement and laughter.
Your friends collectively began to rally around you and Oscar. "C'mon you two, it's time to cut the cake!" one of them exclaimed, giving you and Oscar playful nudges towards the center of the room.
And then, as fate would have it, he found himself standing by the cake table, right next to you.
Your gaze fixed on the colorful candles flickering atop the cake. Next to you stands a guy, presumably Oscar, who shares the same bemused expression as you.
As the room filled with the familiar melody of "Happy Birthday," you glanced at Oscar, who was already looking at you.
He leaned a tad bit closer towards you before speaking. "Happy birthday."
You smiled, repeating the statement to wish him as well before facing your friends who were singing the last couple words of the song, cheering once it was over.
With a shared smile, you and Oscar leaned in together to blow out the candles. "Don't forget to make a wish," you told him.
After a quick exchange of glances, you and Oscar closed your eyes and made silent wishes for the year ahead, earning cheers from the crowd.
You hand the knife over to Oscar, since you've been told many times—mostly by Lando—that you shouldn't be trusted with any sharp objects, specifically knives.
"Any particular slice you're eyeing?" Oscar asks, his gaze drifting over the cake and making eye contact with you.
You laugh. "Honestly, they all look pretty tempting. But I think I'll go for the one with the most frosting."
"Good choice," Oscar says with a grin.
The crowd spreads throughout the home like earlier, chatting with each other as they wait for the cake slices to be served.
As he slices into the cake, you find yourselves chatting effortlessly. "So, how's your birthday been so far?" Oscar asks, a note of curiosity in his voice.
You shrug, a smile playing at your lips. "It's been great. Can't complain, especially with cake involved."
Oscar laughs, and you feel a flutter of excitement at the sound. "Same here," he agrees. "But I have to say, meeting you has been the highlight."
You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Really? I mean, same here. It's not every day you meet someone with the same birthday."
"I may be biased but the best people are born on this day," he comments cheekily. You tilt your head back with a laugh, "I totally agree."
The conversation flows easily between you, and before you know it, the party fades into the background. He hands you a plate with a slice of cake and takes one for himself as well.
"So, what do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?" Oscar suggests, gesturing towards the refreshment table.
You nod eagerly. "I'd like that."
Soon enough, Lando wanders by you and Oscar, pausing when he spots you two sitting on a couch further away, chatting and laughing.
"Did I make a mistake by introducing you two?" He asks, putting his hands on his hips and frowns as he looks between you two.
"Totally," you state without hesitation. Oscar nods, agreeing with you, "I think I might just steal your best friend, mate."
Lando huffs before turning away but you saw the slight smile on his face revealing that he didn't have any problems with your blossoming friendship with Oscar.
When you turn to face Oscar again, he has a glint in his eyes and smiles before asking, "same day, next year?"
Taglist: @wonnou @landoslutmeout @barcelonaloverf1life @megudaeggu @c-losur3 @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @regalbanshee
#thef1diary fic#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri blurb#f1 fluff#f1 imagines#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic
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good boy.
art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)
summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC
warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating
author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are
————————————————————————
You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.
She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."
Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.
"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.
This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.
"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"
Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"
Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.
Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.
"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.
Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.
Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.
It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.
"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.
Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.
So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.
He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.
A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.
'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'
She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.
'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'
Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.
“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.
Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.
Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.
"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.
He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."
His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.
"I want to hear it from you."
"I felt fine."
Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.
"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.
You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.
"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.
You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.
"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"
'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."
Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.
"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.
Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."
Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"
You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.
"Look at me."
He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.
His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.
Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.
"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."
The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.
Art Donaldson lived to be praised.
You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"
Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.
"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.
You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"
Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.
"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."
Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.
Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.
His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.
Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.
When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.
His breath is shallow—anticipatory.
"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.
"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.
"You know you don't have to ask."
There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.
It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.
Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.
Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction.
You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.
His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.
“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”
You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.
“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.
Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.
Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x y/n#challengers#challengers smut#art donaldson smut#challengers imagine#challengers x reader
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Ignorance is bliss | Max Verstappen x Reader
Genre | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.
Word count | 3K.
Warnings | Brief mentions of sexual activities, panic attack, Max and reader get in a fight.
Summary | Max and you have been dating for several months, and everything is going well. Except when paparazzi start chasing you for no reason. Is your boyfriend hiding something from you?
Author's note | This was requested by @butterflyexe ! Thank you lovely for the great idea! I tweaked it a bit though, so I hope you like it! I loved writing this piece but again, sorry for the crippling angst lmao 🥲 Not proofread as usual, oopsie
The doorbell of your apartment rings, and you leap off your couch, opening the door and throwing yourself into your boyfriend's arms.
"Oh, wow," Max says, pressing a kiss to your head. "Did you know it was me or do you throw yourself into the arms of everyone who rings your doorbell?" he adds, laughing.
"Of course I knew it was you," you reply, laughing too. "I've been waiting for you all week. And I noted that your flight was landing an hour ago, so it lined up," you explain, taking his hand and leading him to the couch, where you both sit down.
Max looks tired, the bags under his eyes casting blue and gray shades on his pale skin. He moves to lie down on the couch, resting his head on your thighs, closing his eyes.
"How was the work trip?" you ask, playing with his hair.
"It was great," he finally replies, opening his eyes and meeting yours. "Quite tiring, but interesting. It was nice to, erm. See my colleagues again," he says.
"I still can't believe your company paid for the trip all the way to Australia," you whisper as Max closes his eyes again under your caresses. "If I had known the automotive industry required you to travel that much, I would have applied for the job."
Max doesn't respond, simply taking one of your hand in his and gently stroking your knee with the other.
"You must feel so out of it with the jet lag..." you continue, concerned. "It's a good thing they gave you a few days to rest. When are you expected back at work?"
"Not until next week," Max says, playing with the rings on your fingers.
"And you said you're going to Japan after? That's such a weird ass schedule," you say, making him laugh. "I feel like you travel more than most influencers... Or even athletes," you state, making him open an eye.
"Perks of the job," Max says before planting a soft kiss on your lips, and standing up. "Can I borrow your shower?"
"Of course! You know the way," you wink at him, heading towards the kitchen. "I'll fix us something to eat in the meantime."
Sitting at the small table in your kitchen, illuminated by a few candles and the lights of the city outside, Max devours the plate you placed in front of him a few minutes ago. You silently observe him, both fascinated by the man before you and disturbed by a thought that has plagued you in his absence.
"I've been thinking," you start, making your boyfriend look up.
"Yeah? Tell me," he says, covering your hand with his.
"How come I've never been to your place?"
Max stops chewing, his light eyes fixated on yours.
"I didn't know you wanted to?" he replies, brows furrowed.
"Well I've never asked to, but isn't that how it usually works in a relationship? Once at mine, once at yours?"
"I'm sorry," Max replies. "I didn't realize it was important to you."
You suddenly feel guilty and squeeze your boyfriend's hand, giving him a warm smile.
"Forget it, sorry," you say, getting up to rinse your plate. "That was stupid. You're right, we're fine here."
After dinner, you and Max settle on the couch again, watching some show on Netflix. When you notice Max fighting against sleep, his eyelids heavy and his breath short, you grab the remote before turning off the TV. The sudden silence jolts him awake, and you laugh before pulling him by the arm and leading him down to your bedroom. You make a quick stop in the bathroom to remove your makeup and brush your teeth and, when you come back to the room, you find Max fast asleep under the covers. The sight is endearing. You press a kiss on his forehead before settling next to him, your cold body against his already warm one.
The next morning, you wake up alone in a cold bed. A familiar smell tickles your nostrils, and you make your way to the kitchen, your eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Good morning!" Max says, already dressed up, and looking much fresher than yesterday. "I made us breakfast."
"Wow, that's so sweet of you," you say before sitting at the table, taking a hot pancake from the plate in front of you.
"I'm sorry for falling asleep so fast yesterday," your boyfriend starts again. "To make it up to you, I'd like to take you out to lunch."
The offer takes you by surprise, and you stare at your boyfriend, mouth agape. It's been five months since you started seeing each other. Five months since you bumped into him by chance at the Monte Carlo casino while you were out dining with friends. Five months of being inseparable, but also five months of very limited outings. Max travels a lot for work, and you don't necessarily have the means to go out regularly in Monaco. Most of the moments you share therefore take place within the four walls of your apartment, and you're thrilled to get some fresh air with him for once.
"You seem happy," he says, snapping you out of your thoughts.
"I am!" you say, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Where are we going?"
"What about Nobu?" Max says.
"What? Max, that's way too expensive," you reply, furrowing your brows.
"It doesn't really matter, given I'll be the one paying."
"No way," you say. "We're splitting the bill. And I'm not paying three grands for some sushis, as delicious as everyone claim they are."
"They really are. So please, let me do this for you. Just this once? I can afford it," your boyfriend says, making you frown.
His words remind you that you don't know what your boyfriend does for a living. He's talked to you about cars, mechanics, but you're having trouble understanding what kind of job in the automotive industry requires so much traveling around the world. A job that apparently pays very well, given the restaurants he frequents. Realizing there's no point in arguing and not wanting to pick a fight with Max, you simply nod, lips pressed together. However, you're counting on one last point to escape the pricey restaurant and hopefully eat elsewhere. Somewhere more affordable.
"Well, if you insist," you finally say, popping a strawberry in your mouth. "I doubt we'll get a table for noon, though," you add. "I heard you have to book months in advance."
"Don't worry about that," Max says, stroking your cheek. "I need to stop by my place real quick before, can we meet there?"
Two hours later, you're sitting at one of the finest tables at Nobu, facing the sea. The fuck just happened, you think, watching your boyfriend immersed in the menu with a raised eyebrow. How? Before you have time to question it further, a waiter brings two champagne flutes and a bottle in a Nobu-stamped ice bucket to your table before hurrying away, thanking you two profusely for coming.
"Did you order this?" you ask Max, making him look up.
"No, I didn't. That's so kind of them."
"What the actual fuck, Max?" you snap, eyes wide. "What's going on?"
"What do you mean?" your boyfriend asks.
"Did you somehow not notice how everyone's been bending over backward for us since we walked in? I think the waitress behind you hasn't taken her eyes off us for the past thirty minutes. And since when do they bring champagne to people who haven't ordered anything?" you say with a worried look. "Are they confusing us for someone?"
"Why are you so worried?" Max asks, giving you a look that's meant to be reassuring but just looks uncomfortable. "Just enjoy the moment. And the view."
You sit back in your chair, biting the inside of your cheek. Something isn't right. You can feel it. Max adjusts one of his hair strands, and the sleeve of his shirt slips down slightly, revealing a watch you've never seen before. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the model, and when you do, your heart skips a beat.
"Is this a new watch?" you ask, trying to act nonchalant.
"What? Oh, yeah. Bought it in Melbourne."
"You casually bought a Rolex Daytona?" you ask, tilting your head.
"I didn't know you knew about watches," Max says, adjusting the collar of his shirt.
"You don't need to know about watches to know that this model costs almost a hundred thousand euros," you say, eyes boring into his.
The tension at the table has risen a notch, none of you uttering a word. As an anxious waiter places several plates in front of you, you glance around, suddenly realizing something you hadn't noticed before, absorbed in your conversation with your boyfriend.
"There's no one here," you say, still looking around. "It's noon on a Saturday, and the restaurant is empty."
Max sighs, running a hand through his hair.
"I know," he finally says, carefully meeting your gaze. "I wanted us to have some peace."
"What? What did you do?"
"I've privatized the restaurant," he says.
"How did you do that?" you ask, unintentionally raising your voice.
"I paid," Max simply says, grabbing a sushi.
"How much?"
"Several thousands!" Max almost shouts, making you wince. "What's up with all your questions?"
You're completely lost. You don't recognize the man you've been seeing for the past five months. The man who comes to your place by foot, usually in sweatpants, who spends evenings watching Netflix with you. Taking baths with you. Passionately making love to you. You have no idea who this new man is, covered in expensive clothes and accessories, on whom all heads turn and who raises whispers as he passes by.
"Who the fuck are you?" you simply ask, feeling your eyes start to water.
"Baby," Max says, finally realizing how uncomfortable and lost you are. "Please, can we just enjoy the meal? I'll answer all your questions at your place. I'll explain everything, but please. Let's not make a scene," he implores.
You swallow hard, staring at the ceiling to dry the tears in the corners of your eyes. For the rest of the meal, Max talks, telling you about his trip, about his life. You politely answer the few questions your boyfriend asks you, remaining silent the rest of the time. You don't even have an appetite anymore, having swallowed three sushi pieces before your stomach threatened to turn.
At the end of the meal, Max slips a credit card into the folder that a waiter has placed on the table, then adds three hundred-dollar bills. Tip, you think. More than what I earn in a day of work. The price of discretion, probably. The waiter leaves with the folder before coming back, and just as he's about to ask for something, Max shots him a look that makes him close his mouth. Your boyfriend thanks the young man before walking around the table, extending a hand that you grasp to rise as well. You thank the still-empty restaurant staff, giving them a genuine smile despite the anxiety twisting your stomach. Max opens the door for you, and you walk out on the street, thanking him.
For a moment, you curse yourself for forgetting your sunglasses at home, as the Monaco sun blinds you instantly. You blink in surprise, but your blindness persists as Max grabs your wrist and pushes you behind him. You try to open your eyes, but flashes keep assaulting you, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that they're coming from huge cameras pointed just inches away from your face.
"Max?"' you ask with a high-pitched voice, starting to panic.
Max turns around, pressing you against him and covering your eyes as he guides you through the screaming crowd. People push you in all directions, pressing against you, touching your arms, your face, crumpling your clothes. Screaming. At first, you can't make sense of what the voices are shouting, with all your senses being overwhelmed. But suddenly, you hear it. Max. They're screaming his name. Max looks up, and a new series of flashes burn your retinas as your boyfriend holds you even tighter against him, one arm around your shoulders.
"I'm so sorry," you hear him say among the voices.
"What's happening?" you ask, panting.
And, then, you feel it. The panic attack. Even though you've never experienced one before, you immediately understand what's happening to you. You recognize the signs. Your legs give way, and you have to cling to Max to keep from falling to your knees. Your heart rate and breath quicken until they're suffocating, while tears stream down your cheeks.
"I can't breathe," you croak, so weakly that you're not even sure if Max heard you.
"Hang on, baby," your boyfriend says, still walking. "We're almost at the car."
The flashes continue, and so do your tears. Max grips you as tightly as he can, shielding your face, lifting you halfway to help you walk. After a few seconds, the longest of your life, you hear a car door open, and Max gently pushes you into his car before closing the door and jumping in. He wastes no time in starting the engine, cutting through the crowd, disappearing into the alleys of Monaco.
You don't say a word. You're unable to speak. Unable to breathe. Still trembling. Crying. You don't realize it, but Max struggles to tear his eyes away from your body, which seems so small, so battered at this moment. He doesn't speak either, biting his lips until it draws blood. He hates himself. He knows he'll regret making you go through this for a long time. But now, all he can do is explain. Lay all the cards on the table. Something he should have done a long time ago.
The journey seems to last an eternity until you catch sight of a gigantic building, and Max drives into an underground parking. He parks the car and rushes out, opening your door, helping you out. You're still in shock, and Max supports you as he guides you to an elevator. A few seconds later, after twist of his keys, you find yourself in a vast penthouse overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. You don't even have the strength to ask questions anymore. To ask where you are. You sit down on the large couch, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Trying to calm your breathing.
Max watches you, standing at the foot of the couch. Bewildered. Not even daring to come close to you. The two of you stand in silence a few moments, until he finally speaks.
"I know it won't fix anything. But I'm truly, sincerely sorry."
You don't reply, head low. playing with the rings on your finger.
"I owe you some explanations."
No reply.
"I'm a Formula 1 driver."
You finally look up, and the mascara streaks on your cheeks squeeze his heart in the worst way.
"I should have told you earlier. I should have warned you, but I couldn't. With you, I discovered normalcy. Anonymity. I discovered what it was live to have an ordinary life, away from the hustle, the stress, the constant judgment."
"So you knew how precious it was," you say, squinting your eyes. "And yet, you chose to expose me to all of those things."
"I hadn't planned for it to happen. I didn't want it to happen. I tried."
"I can't do this," you reply, feeling fresh tears roll down your cheeks.
Seeing you cry again, Max sits on the couch, pulling you close to him as another sob shakes your body.
"Why?" you ask, crying. "Why did you let me fall in love with the person I thought you were?"
Each of your words, each of your sobs break his heart a little more, but he takes it. He knows your anger is justified. Deserved.
"Because I loved you too. And I didn't want this to stop."
"You lied to me," you say between two sobs. "I trusted you. I trusted you so much."
It's too much. Even for him. A tear runs down his cheek. Max wipes it away angrily.
"If you never want to see me again, I understand. I'll come get my things. I'll erase your number. I won't stand in the way of you living a normal life, of finding love with someone normal. You deserve the best, even if it's not with me."
You hate him.
You despise him for having been himself, his most vulnerable self, with you. For charming you with his awkwardness, his foreign accent, his somewhat strict manners. You hate him for being the perfect man for you. You hate him for making your heart beat so strongly. But above all, you hate him for building your love on a lie, on fragile foundations doomed to collapse and sweep you both away in the wreckage.
"I hate you," you sob, making his heart stop. "And I hate myself even more. For not being able to let you go."
"Baby", he says, moving to kneel in front of you. "If you give me this chance, a chance to rebuild everything with you again, I swear that nothing will ever happen to you again. I won't let anyone near you, anyone touch you. Not even a glance. I will rebuild everything around us. We'll be untouchable. Indestructible."
One month later.
"Are you ready, baby?" Max asks, meeting your gaze. "Once I post it, there's no going back."
"I think so," you say, biting on your fingernails. "Let's get this over with," you add, sitting on his knees while the driver presses a kiss to your neck, softly stroking your leg.
"Okay. Let's do this."
#f1#f1 2024#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1#max verstappen#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x female reader#mv1#mv1 x you#mv1 x reader#mv33#mv33 x you#mv33 x reader#lilasamaaa#slowly working my way up all the requests lmao
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pls some joost fluff (cuddling n maybe some making out??) headcanons bitte bitte🙏
🥴 danke danke for request!
Cuddles
Joost Klein x fem!reader
English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! More posts here.
A/n: I wrote it a bit different, hope you won't mind much!🙏
Warnings: bit suggestive and making out, so be aware!
Wc: 736
---
Okay, so Lazy Mornings would probably look like this.
Joost loves to sleep in on any day, but what he loves more is when he wakes up to find you still cuddled up beside him, he wouldn't have it any other way.
He'd pull you even closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively, and nuzzle his face into your hair, content to stay tangled up in bed with you for as long as possible.
"Good morning to you too, Joost." You said with a small smile and felt him tighten his hold on you from behind.
"Morning." He whispered and kissed your neck. "I didn't want to wake you up."
"It's alright. I have to get up anyway." You answered and turned in his hold.
"Not possible, you're staying here, with me." He spoke and as he was about to kiss you, you turned your head to the side and said. "No, no, no, I will give you a kiss after we brush teeth."
---
Post-Eurovision Comfort would be absolutely necessary and nobody can tell me otherwise.
After a particularly tough last few days at Eurovision, Joost would come home exhausted.
You'd meet him at the door with a warm hug, leading him to the couch where you'd lay his head in your lap and gently massage his shoulders and back.
"It's gonna be alright Joost, it will be alright." You would softly whisper to him.
He'd close his eyes, letting out a contented sigh as he relaxes into your touch, grateful for your soothing presence.
"Thank you love."
---
Movie Nights are a must.
You and Joost have a tradition of having cozy movie nights at home. He'd make a big bowl of popcorn, and you'd snuggle up together under a blanket on the couch.
As the movie plays, Joost would absentmindedly run his fingers through your hair, occasionally pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
"I know what you're trying to do Joost. It won't work." You warned him, clearly knowing what he was up to.
"I'm not doing anything love, you're just paranoid." He chuckled and threw himself at you, pinning you down on the couch.
He started kissing you as you put your hands on his shoulders and then to his hair, lightly tugging on it. Joost moaned to your mouth.
He suddenly pulled away and said. "If you're going to tease me like this, then it's not my fault. It's yours."
"No, it was you who started kissing me. It's your fault." You moaned, feeling him kiss your jaw and then neck.
"That sounds fair."
---
Unexpected Cuddles are like:
Whether you're cooking dinner together or just lounging around the house, Joost loves to surprise you with sudden cuddle attacks.
He'd sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back as he peppers your neck with gentle kisses, making you giggle and squirm.
"It tickles!" You gasped and then you started to laugh, trying to pull away, but he didn't budge.
Now, that he was fully pressed against your back, he turned you around, so you were face to face. He bent down and took your thighs and pulled you up at the counter as you wrapped your arms around his neck for support.
"You realize I'm cooking, right?" You asked him, feeling all hot from sudden friction. Looking into his eyes, you see the hunger behind them.
You bit your lips and pulled him closer to yours lips kissing him with passion, but still soft enough.
"Who's the clingy one now." He laughed against your lips, kissing them again.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
---
Rainy Day Cuddles:
When it's pouring rain outside, Joost would suggest building a blanket fort in the living room.
And guess what? You agreed, because it is fucking good idea.
You'd gather up all the blankets and pillows you could find, creating a cozy nest for the two of you to hide away from the storm.
"It's cozy here." You whispered to him as you laid on his chest. He had his arm around you and his other was in your hair, gently playing with it.
"Yeah, it is." He quietly said and kissed the top of your head.
Inside the fort, you'd cuddle up together, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof and he was sharing stories with you until you both fell asleep in each other's arms.
---
Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!
#joost klein x fem!reader#joost klein x you#justice for joost#joostice#joost klein x reader#joost klein#x reader#k0juki's stuff 🩷#x female!reader#europa#europe#eurovision#imagines#fanfic#blurb
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Innocent reader who got a new perfume without knowing it was a pheromone perfume and it’s driving Rafe crazy but she doesn’t understand what’s happening. He just wants to smell her and kiss her
Drives Me Wild
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Mention of Sex at the End
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.4K
Masterlist
The liquid in the heart-shaped glass seems innocent. It isn’t, at least not to Rafe. He didn’t think anything of it when Y/N returned from the store with the bottle and happily showed it to him. He was on a work call, so he smiled and gave her a kiss before walking to his office. He regrets not looking further into it because now, her smell haunts him wherever he goes. She has been gone since this morning and he can still feel her presence. The cinnamon makes him yearn for her to be here. He finds himself sitting by the front door with his phone open on Find My iPhone in anticipation of her coming back. The nail of his thumb is bitten to its core and it rests there until the fumble of her keys in the lock causes him to spring up to his feet. As soon as she is through the door, he is on her, placing kisses at her pulse points where she puts the perfume. His nose is buried behind her ear and he nibbles the skin under her jaw under her ear. A dark mauve stain begins to bloom where his teeth nip.
She giggles at his touch and steps forward to try to escape his hold. She has to start dinner. He only lets her shuffle forward a little bit, still in his arms. Her waist twists in his hold, so she faces him. “I have to go start dinner,” she informs him. The only confirmation he gives that he heard her is that he walks them both into the kitchen. He doesn’t detach from her as she moves around the kitchen. She expects him to let go of her when she begins to cut the vegetables, but he doesn’t.
Instead, her perfume overtakes him and his assault on her skin begins again. His lips trail up and down her neck and once it is covered in kisses, he lifts her wrist up to his mouth. This causes her to place the knife down so he doesn’t get hurt. She loves his kisses; however, they are annoying when she is trying to get something done. “What is going on with you, Baby? Why are you so clingy?” she snickers, trying to wiggle herself out of his hold. He shrugs and continues his attack, “I don’t know. It’s just something about you that drives me wild.” And then, the tension in his pants begins to grow and she can feel his hard-on pressed against her butt. He is an elephant in a musth as he begins to rub himself against her. The mood in the room shifts to one of passion and Y/N abandons her attempts to make dinner, letting Rafe lead her into the bedroom. They have no idea what gets Rafe so enamoured by her, but they aren’t going to complain.
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks x reader
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30 / 1.1k / soap soulmate au, part 7
...
The minutes tick by. You're alone with your thoughts. It's worse than before. But what are you supposed to tell him? All but the smallest thing you could give him would lead his entire team to Captain Graves, and you... you can't do that. You owe him a debt.
The door slams open and Soap walks back in, looking tired and angry. Before you can speak, he grabs you by the arm, drags you out of your chair, and then he's kissing you, pressing you up against the wall. His hands are in your hair and on your hips, his hard body against yours, his teeth finding the place where your neck meets your shoulder.
Everything about it is possessive, angry, desperate. One hand slides around to your ass. The other weaves tighter into your hair, holding you tight between him and the wall, his hips grinding into yours.
"Thought I was gonna have to wait till you stopped being so damn stubborn. You were never going to tell me, were you?" His soft growl is low, heated, and hurt. "You’re always gonna keep this to yourself. Even if it means letting me go to my grave."
He pulls you away from the wall and pushes you into the metal interrogation table with enough force to put you on your back. He advances on you. Straddles you. His mouth is hot and he's not giving you time to think. He's taking what he needs because he wants it, he's tired of waiting for it, and he's finally got you where he wants you. His teeth on your throat have you arching your back. His grip is tight but you don't want to escape.
His fingers dig into you. "Will you even miss me?"
You open your eyes, jolting in place. A dream, it was a dream. You're still cuffed to this stupid chair. You're hot and wet and there's a horrible knot in your throat.
The door slides open. That's what woke you--activity outside. A few people filter into the weapons closet briefly to grab rifles and sidearms. They hardly spare you looks. They leave; the voices outside begin to fade and you hear an engine firing up. Muted panic rises in your gut. They're about to leave. Are they leaving you here? Is Johnny gone already?
Then the door rattles softly and Johnny's familiar shape slips in. He glances back out the door, watching for anyone who might’ve seen him slip in before he closes it. You release a breath through gritted teeth.
"Mornin’.” Soap is suited up, radioed, armed to the teeth. Looking every inch the soldier he is. Your heart sinks. You're in deep. No matter how this situation turns out, it's not good for you. Whoever wins, you lose.
Instead of taking the chair, he circles behind you. You rattle your cuffs as he leaves your line of sight.
"Change your mind?" he asks you.
"No."
He chuckles. "Thought not."
He bends closer. Your heart races. You half-expect to feel his hands--your dream flashes through your mind--but then, to your surprise, you hear the soft clink of metal on metal. He pulls on the cuffs. One falls away. Then the other.
You get to your feet, curling and uncurling your fingers. "Why are you letting me go?" you ask, voice still sharp. "I told you I'm not helping you."
Soap looks bemused. It's like you don't know how to stop being belligerent even when you're not a hostage anymore. "Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I’m under strict orders not to let you leave this room. But if you just so happen to vanish..." He holds up the key--the one he'd swiped from Ghost earlier. "That’d be fine with me.”
“What are you playing at?”
“There's a chance none of us will come back. Don't like the idea of you sittin' here like a rabbit in a trap for God knows how long." He holds out a neat little square of folded cash. When you don't take it, he reaches around and slips it into your back pocket. "There's a town four miles southwest of here. Set off in a half hour and you’ll get there before sundown. Take somethin' off the wall to protect yourself."
You stare at him, your frustration growing with every word he says. Why does he trust you enough to free you? Why? He knows very well you could pick up the first phone you see, call your Captain, and tell him everything. Hell, you could call Shepherd.
You tried your dead fucking best to show him who you are. Why doesn't he believe you? Does he think you're going to grab his hand and ask him to come with you--fuck the Shadows, fuck Las Almas, you know how to buy fake IDs and burner phones, you'll figure it out a day at a time?
Your throat tightens. You could obviously never say that. And if you did consider it, you'd bite your tongue because there's no way he'd accept. You have so much to gain from running away and he has too much to lose. He cares about his team too much.
He skims his gloved fingertips up your arm and goes to touch your cheek again, but then he hesitates and stops himself. You feel radioactive.
"How 'bout a kiss for the road?" he asks. He seems to decide on taking a strand of your hair and places it tentatively behind your ear. "Just in case."
Your hands tighten into fists. How dare he.
"Aw, c'mon. Don't make me walk away from you disappointed." He gives you a small, infuriating smile.
"If you want a kiss, then come back for it when you're done."
"Ah. Fair enough."
He brings his hands up to the sides of your face and presses his lips to your hairline anyway, leaning into you for a long, silent moment.
Then he's gone.
…
You sit cross-legged on that table for a long stretch of time, spinning in one hand the handcuffs that held you. You stare at that photograph and count the seconds. At thirty minutes, you set off, walking southwest.
...
part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / [part 7] / part 8
more Soap / masterlist tag
#soulmate soap#mine#story#soulmate au#fem reader#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#soap cod#johnny mactavish#soap mactavish#soap x reader#x reader#soap x you#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x you#cod#cod x reader#call of duty#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#tf 141#tf 141 x reader
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omg I saw you post about wanting dad!Bakugo ideas and tbh I have so many but I don't wanna be greedy or overwhelming so here's one <3
Dad!Bakugo when you get caught sneaking out. He assumes the worst- thinking you were out drinking, partying, something like that (y/n would be like.. 14-16 or somethin, yknow?) But in reality you were just sneaking out to go to the 24/7 ramen place down the street with your secret partner who you haven't told your dad about bc they're the same gender as you <3
It's a lot, I completely understand if ya aren't interested in writing it <33 I just think it would be a really cute and emotional but also amusing and heartfelt idea that I would love to read but can't find the motivation to write </3
Love your work!!!!
⋆ PAIRING: dad!bakugou x fem!reader
⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; teeniest tiniest bit of angst; fluff; talks of being closeted
⋆ WORD COUNT: 3492
A/N: not me writing two works in 2024 back to back?! crazy omg. also i decided to make y/n bakugou’s s/o and not his child as that’s what i’m most comfortable writing about. hope that’s okay!
also please feel free to send as many dad!bakugou ideas you want cause i’ve been wanting to write as many as i can. sorry if the ending is awkward i had some trouble finishing it :( tysm for requesting and i hope you enjoy :)
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“Fuck,” Bakugou cursed to himself, setting the knife down and grabbing a paper towel to tend to the small cut he had just accidentally put onto his index finger. Your home was filled with a savory aroma as Bakugou’s cooked dinner as he did every night.
“Are you alright, Katsuki?” You asked from the dining room, averting your eyes from your laptop and peering into the kitchen to check on your husband.
“I’m fine. It’s just a small cut,” Bakugou called out, grabbing and applying a band-aid from the cabinet and onto his finger. Afterwards he went back to the task at hand. “Where’s Suki?”
“She’s upstairs, I think she’s showering. Apparently they were working on training their quirks in U.A. and she said she felt disgusting,” you responded, reverting your attention back to the work you had left on your laptop.
“So they’re already training their quirks? I need to train with her more then.” Bakugou turned the stove off as he moved tonight’s dinner to a singular dish. He went over to the dining table where you were seated to set the table.
You furrowed your brows at him. “Katsuki, she trains enough at U.A., not to mention you train with her after she comes back from school too. You’ll overwork her if you do even more than that.”
“She needs the training. She has to get stronger if she wants to get better.” Bakugou spoke to you while walking back and forth from the kitchen to the dining table as he placed all of his dishes down for his family to share. “She’s gonna get her provisional license soon and I don’t want her to fail like I fucking did.”
“I understand, but you’re being too hard on yourself and on her,” you said, shaking your head at your husband who has a tendency to overwork himself.
“If she’s gonna be the best, she has to be better than me. And I’m gonna make sure she’s a hundred times better than I ever was in U.A.,” Bakugou stated adamantly as he sat himself across from you.
You sighed, closing your laptop and setting it aside so you could eat. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
Bakugou smirked as he was about to let out a snarky comment until Suki walked downstairs, a towel in hand as she was still drying her ash blonde.
You smiled at the sight of your daughter. “Suki! You’re just in time for dinner.”
Suki stopped as she took in her parents at the dining table and the giant spread of food Bakugou had prepared. “Oh, I thought I told you guys I wasn’t that hungry today…”
Bakugou whipped his head around to look at his daughter. “No you fucking didn’t.”
“Whoops,” Suki said, laughing cautiously as she rubbed the nape of her neck with her hand. “I’m kinda tired from all the training today so I think I’m just going to head to bed.”
You frowned. “Are you sure? Maybe eat just a little, sweetie.”
Suki shook her head. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be fine.” She turned to her father. “And I’m sorry, Dad. I know you worked hard to make all of this.”
Bakugou sighed. “It’s fine. Pay me back with training right after you get back from school tomorrow.”
Suki winced but nodded reluctantly for her father’s sake. “Alright.” She turned around and made her way upstairs as she called out, “I’m going to bed. Good night!”
“Good night, sweetie!” You called back out to her. You averted your attention to the delicious spread in front of you, once again thankful for having a husband who could cook so well and alleviate you from the burden of having to do so.
“That shitty kid needs to eat more,” Bakugou grumbled, shoving his homemade meal into his mouth in the process. “She’s not gonna get stronger if she doesn’t eat well.”
“I agree with you there. At least with the eating more part.” You took a sip of water. “I hope she’s doing okay. You don’t think she’s overwhelmed at school and she’s just not telling us, right?”
“She’s fine, you’re worrying too fucking much, Y/N.” He glanced back at the stairs before eating again despite his statement. He didn’t want to say it aloud as he knew you would start freaking out but he was also concerned. Bakugou always wanted what’s best for his daughter who was inspired by her pro hero father to become a pro hero herself. When Suki expressed her interest in becoming a pro, Bakugou had to physically hold himself back in a way to not overwhelm her with how excited he was with the news. And you could see it yourself. You saw the way Bakugou perked up and seemed more enthusiastic, in his own way of course, every time Suki asked for training advice or told Bakugou about her day at school. You loved and admired their bond and how much closer they were getting the more she developed her quirk and skills.
You leaned back, patting your full stomach. “That was delicious, Katsu.” You stood up with your empty plate in one hand and patted his head with your other. Bakugou glared at you as he stood and cleared the table.
You went over to the sink to wash the dishes, intent on putting your share of the housework as Bakugou cooked only to be lightly pushed out of the way as Bakugou began to wash the dishes.
“Katsuki!” You exclaimed. “You always do this. I’m supposed to be the one who cleans up when you cook.”
You attempted to push him back but unsurprisingly he didn’t budge as he ignored you and continued to clean. “Oh, shut it. Just go finish your paperwork over there.”
“Fine,” you huffed as you sat back down at the dining table. Instead of finishing your paperwork you sat begrudgingly in your seat with your laptop in your lap as you waited for Bakugou so the two of you could go to bed together.
Thankfully with Bakugou being Bakugou, he was finished in no time and the two of you went upstairs to get some sleep.
As you were situating yourself in bed, Bakugou stood in front of Suki’s room. He knocked on her door and the absence of a response prompted Bakugou to open the door slowly. He poked his head in and saw Suki fast asleep with her lights still on. He smiled softly at the sight of his sleeping daughter and even though he knew he was tough on her, he knew she was working hard to prove to him how she will become an incredible hero.
“Katsuki, are you coming?” You called from your room.
“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugou responded as he turned Suki’s light off and closed her door.
The alarm blaring from her phone jolted Suki awake. She quickly turned it off, hoping it didn’t wake her parents in the same manner as it did her. The time on her phone read 3:30 AM as Suki slipped out of bed. She quickly changed out of her pajamas and into sweatpants and a sweater and tiptoed out of her room.
Suki glanced over at yours and Bakugou’s bedroom door, thankful as it was closed shut. Sometimes Bakugou would sleep with the door cracked open slightly as he was convinced he would be able to hear anybody sneaking in if anyone attempted to rob your home or attack his family. You would call him crazy and usually waited for him to fall asleep before closing the door all the way in which Suki was ecstatic that you did so that day as well.
Suki made her way down to the front door and took her keys and her jacket and left her home. She grabbed her bicycle that was propped on the side of the house and began making her way down the road. She shivered as the cold winter air hit her face as she rode her bike, her eyes watering as they searched for one particular person.
Suki smiled once she spotted who she was meeting at 3:30 AM on a school night.
“Took you long enough!” Yui, Suki’s girlfriend, called out from her respective bike.
Suki grinned at her girlfriend and stopped her bike beside her. “Are you sure this place is open 24/7?”
Yui nodded. “They just opened up. Did your old man catch you?”
Suki shook her head. “I even skipped dinner and I’m starving now.”
Suki knew she wasn’t supposed to be out so late but she couldn’t help it; she missed her girlfriend. In addition, during the day she was busy at U.A. and afterwards she would train with her father. In the evening she’d have to keep up with her studies and her homework, making it almost impossible to spend time with her partner. Not to mention, Suki still hadn’t come out to you or Bakugou.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust either of you but there was a small, miniscule feeling Suki had in the back of her mind that made her fear your reactions to having a girlfriend. Thankfully, unlike Yui’s parents, you and Bakugou never mentioned or questioned if Suki had a boyfriend, but she knew Bakugou especially would disapprove of anything that would divert her attention from her training and studies.
“Come on, let’s go!” Yui exclaimed and the two girls continued down the road to the ramen shop.
Bakugou woke up feeling immobilized. In an attempt to go to the bathroom, Bakugou tried to get up but couldn’t do so as you were literally holding him down in your sleep. Your arm was wrapped around his torso, your leg over his thighs, and your cheek was pressed against his chest. In moments like these he blamed you for making him feel sore in the morning.
“Y/N,” Bakugou said softly as he quite literally peeled you off of his body. He was successful and he laughed once he heard you groaning in your sleep as you turned the other way.
Bakugou went to the bathroom and just as he was on his way back to his room to fall back asleep right beside you, he noticed Suki’s door was ever so slightly left open. He knew she always criticized him for leaving his door open so he knew something was up immediately.
Bakugou went over to Suki’s door, knocking once again just as he did before going to sleep earlier and again there was no response. He pushed the door open, furrowing his brows at the sight of what was supposed to be Suki’s body under her covers but Bakugou was too clever to fall for something so simple. He walked closer to her bed and pulled back the covers, not surprised to see two pillows that were formed to imitate her body.
“She fucking snuck out,” Bakugou muttered angrily to himself. He threw the blanket back onto the bed and went back to his bedroom where you were sleeping. He shook you awake. “Y/N, wake up.”
You woke up frighteningly, sitting upright. “What? What’s wrong?” You asked confused and tired.
“Suki’s not here.”
“What?!” You exclaimed, immediately jumping out of bed and running to Suki’s room to check. You turned back to Bakugou. “Do you think she was abducted? Or kidnapped? Oh no, do you think one of those villains you fought came back for revenge?! Our poor baby–”
“Y/N, calm down,” Bakugou said, placing his hands on your shoulders. “She’s not kidnapped. That little shit snuck out.”
“What? There’s no way Suki would sneak out, Katsuki.”
“She put her pillows under the covers to make it look like she was sleeping.”
“But… why would she do that?” You questioned. This was completely unlike Suki, which made you ponder even more about her motive. Usually if she wanted to go anywhere or do anything, she would ask you or Bakugou for permission in which, most of the time, you both would say yes.
“Who fucking knows. She’s probably out drinking or partying. She’s fifteen for fucks sake.”
“I don’t know, Katsu, I don’t think she’s the type to do something like that. The only possibility that makes sense is…” You thought about it some more until it finally hit you. “Maybe she’s seeing a boy!”
“A what?”
“Come on, it’s the only thing that makes sense. I don’t think she’s the type to go out drinking.”
“I’d rather her go to a party than be alone with a boy this fucking late.” Bakugou clenched his fists at the thought. “I’m gonna go find her.”
“Wait!” Bakugou ignored you as he continued downstairs, grabbing his coat and throwing his shoes on. “Don’t go out and use your quirk.”
“Why the fuck not? It’s the fastest way to get to her.”
You sighed hopelessly at your husband. “It’s 4 AM, Katsu, your explosions will wake up the whole neighborhood. Just take the car.”
“I hate that fucking piece of shit,” Bakugou grumbled. “Fine.”
“And take this, too.” You tossed his phone that you had quickly grabbed, which he caught with ease. “Call me when you find her.”
Bakugou felt himself getting more and more impatient as he drove in circles around his neighborhood. He knew Suki couldn’t have gone far as he noticed her bike was missing. He checked her friends’ houses that he was aware of for any signs of partying and checked every convenience store nearby as he knew Suki loved them. Bakugou cursed at his daughter internally as she had also turned off her location on her phone. The last place left to check was the new ramen shop that had just opened and you had begged Bakugou to try out with you once he had some time off from work.
Bakugou recognized Suki’s bike parked right in front along with another bike right next to hers. To his knowledge you were right; Suki was here to meet a boy.
Bakugou felt himself getting angrier. How could Suki sneak out for a stupid boy? Doesn’t she know training has to be her top priority? Boys are a distraction and wouldn’t do her any good. He felt justified in these thoughts as he didn’t start dating until after he graduated which was when he met you.
Nevertheless, Bakugou parked and exited the car. He was planning on busting the door down to the restaurant, scold Suki, and murder whatever stupid boy had stolen his only daughter’s heart.
And Bakugou fully planned to do so until he stopped in his tracks at the sight he caught through the window. Suki was laughing, leaning on the person next to her. It was a girl. Initially Bakugou assumed it was a new friend that Suki had made until this new “friend” kissed his daughter on the cheek.
At that moment Bakugou understood fully what was going on. He was still upset that Suki felt like she had to sneak around to spend time with her girlfriend and he still thought having a partner could be a distraction but Bakugou knew he shouldn’t be physically upset as he initially intended to.
So Bakugou waited, his arms across his chest as he leaned against his car and waited for Suki to come out from the restaurant.
When she was getting up to leave with her girlfriend by her side, Suki couldn’t remember the last time she enjoyed herself as much as she did in that ramen shop. She felt so comfortable in her skin and wished she could spend time with Yui more so that she didn’t have to sneak out like she did that night.
“I had a lot of fun today,” Yui said as the girls thanked the shop owners and made their way to the exit.
“Me too. Maybe next time we can go on a date during the day and not 5 AM,” Suki joked and Yui agreed.
“Mhm. But do you feel comfortable telling your parents?”
Suki sighed. “I want to tell them soon. It’s just so scary.”
“I get it, believe me.” Yui pushed the door open and they both walked towards their bikes. “Text me whenever you’re free again.”
Suki nodded and gave her girlfriend a small peck. “Come on, I’ll drop you off.”
“Suki, I live literally right next door. If anything I should be dropping you off,” Yui said with a laugh. “Are you okay getting home?”
Suki nodded confidently. “Absolutely. I’m in U.A. for a reason, you know.”
The girls continued and finished their goodbyes and Suki watched Yui take her bike on a very short ride to her house. She waved to Yui once more before turning around to head back home in the opposite direction. And that was when she finally saw him.
There Bakugou was, still leaned against his car down the road with stern crimson eyes watching his daughter. Suki’s eyes widened at the sight and immediately wanted the ground to swallow her whole. “Dad?!”
“About damn time you noticed me,” Bakugou grumbled, loud enough for Suki to hear as she cautiously walked towards Bakugou.
“What’re you doing here? How’d you find me?” Suki’s bike fell on its side as she loosened her grip out of shock.
“I just wanted to check on you when I woke up and saw you weren’t in bed. Do you know how fucking terrifying that is?” Bakugou asked angrily. Suki winced at her father’s tone, looking down and away from the intensity of his gaze.
Bakugou sighed, calming himself down. After seeing how happy Suki and her girlfriend were together, he felt his initial anger diminish. “Why didn’t you just tell Mom and me you wanted to hang out with your girlfriend?”
Suki felt overwhelmed with mixed emotions. She felt exposed but also guilty for not being open with her parents. “I-I don’t know. It was hard keeping this from you.”
Bakugou watched Suki closely and briefly. He could see her body shaking in what he assumed to be fear. He had caught her in an intimate moment with her significant other, someone that she felt that she had to hide from her parents. And it broke Bakugou’s heart thinking about how difficult it must have been carrying a secret so big and integral to who she was as a person.
Bakugou took a few steps forward, closing the gap between him and his daughter and he embraced her. Suki, whose eyes were still fixated on the ground, was taken aback at this sudden act. Her father, one who rarely showed any physical affection, was hugging her so tightly. “I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like having to keep this secret.”
Suki’s vision blurred as tears began to well in her eyes. She buried her face in Bakugou’s chest and she returned the embrace. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you guys,” Suki blurted out in between her sobs.
Bakugou patted her ash blonde hair down with his hand, still holding her as tight as he possibly could. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry for making you feel like you can’t be open with me. I know I can be shitty and tough on you but I’ve always wanted what’s best for you.”
Suki sniffled as she pulled away, rubbing her eyes and ridding her cheeks from the tears that had stained them. “It’s not that I felt like I couldn’t open up to you or Mom. I knew deep down that you guys would accept me regardless if I were gay or straight but I kept psyching myself out.”
Bakugou smiled softly, patting her back. “Suki, there’s nothing on this fucking Earth you could ever do to make me or your mother disappointed in you. Even if you decided to not be a hero anymore, I wouldn’t give a shit. All I want is for you to put your all into whatever it is you do and not to half ass anything.”
Suki smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, Dad.” Bakugou knelt down and grabbed Suki’s bike, wheeling it over to his car as he put it in the trunk.
“So am I off the hook for sneaking out?” Suki asked, hoping to hear the answer she wanted to hear as she walked over to the passenger side of the vehicle.
“Fuck no. You’re still in trouble,” Bakugou stated simply in which Suki sighed, not surprised at the answer. “Now you don’t have to sneak out to see your girlfriend, at least.” The two entered the car and Bakugou turned the vehicle on as he turned it around to head back home.
“Can I invite Yui over for dinner sometime?” Suki asked, looking at her father expectantly.
“Yeah. You gotta explain to your Mom what happened. She’s at home thinking you got kidnapped.” The two laughed as they made their way back home to you.
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#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugo x you#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki#bnha bakugou#my hero academia imagines#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#katsuki bakugou#my hero academy fanfiction#my hero acedamia
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Just read the whole "Yuu gets sold off by Crowley" stories and OMLLL THEYRE SO GOOD XDDD
Any chance you could do more on it like if Niege won or if the parents heard about it and also decided to adopt Yuu and Grim?? Maybe the other staff adopting her too or more on Crewel's adoption please???
requests for the crewel ending are in high demand I see...
parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | 'bad' ending | RSA ending
summary: a crewel ending
type of post: short fic, mostly speculation
characters: crewel ft. other staff
additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, definitely pre-book seven, parents being cringe
If Crewel were allowed to beat Crowley to death with one of his designer handbags, he would have.
...Unfortunately, with the adoption paperwork fees (...and a need for more designer handbags), he regrettably still needs this job.
And he'd like to keep an eye on you while you're still here, too.
The animosity between Crowley and the rest of the staff is unspoken, shared through passing glances and dry remarks at meetings, and though the matter is "settled", in Crowley's own words, no one seems keen on letting it go anytime soon.
The students who participated in the bidding war are subject to months worth of extra homework, harder exams, and worse studying hours from Crewel himself. To teach them a little responsibility, he says.
You, at least, are exempt from his radical new lesson plan. You have enough on your plate as it is.
After all, as soon as the legal proceedings are through and your identity as an autonomous human being in Twisted Wonderland is secured, the "fun" begins.
Your uniforms are tailored and rightly fit, you're given a proper meal plan, even Ramshackle is decorated with a few of Crewel's personal touches. A throw rug here and there, a fresh coat of paint, anything to cover up the rotting interior and turning it into something worthy of envy.
"...Given that Grim doesn't start shedding everywhere," Crewel had said. "Ugh, pets."
The rest of the staff are just as helpful, citing your recent experience with the bidding war as reason to take it easier on you for a while (or for the rest of the semester, really). Trein gives you less homework, Sam "accidentally" doesn't ring you up a few items...
It starts to feel more like the entirety of the staff has adopted you.
Not that you mind, of course. This is the closest thing you've had to family since... well, since coming here.
There's just the one thing, though.
"I don't know why you waste your time with those untrained pups. Honestly. The idea of their tacky shoes touching the rugs in here..." Crewel sighs. His eyes turn to you. "You know, I hear Vil Schoenheit has been looking for someone to take to his next shoot..."
Ashton chuffs. "Don't be ridiculous, they need someone who's strong enough to take care of them! Kingscholar is a real star once he gets motivated,"
"Please tell me I didn't just hear that," Crewel massages his temples. "And might I add, I'm their father, not you. I give the blessing. You're more like the unwelcome uncle crashing the family barbeque."
Grim nudges you with his elbow, muttering a quick yikes before darting out of the kitchen. You groan in embarrassment. "Guys..."
"I'm just thinking about what's best for them," Ashton says, puffing out his chest. "They're at an age where they're going to start thinking about dating, and we want them to make good choices."
"Guys,"
"Exactly. Schoenheit is a perfect gentleman, a master in my class, and has the style to back him up. Kingscholar can demonstrate occasional intelligence, but he's still another housecat," he shudders. "The shedding..."
A tired voice from the doorway interrupts their tense back-and-forth, much to your relief.
"Goodness, the two of you, at this again?" Trein scoffs, taking a seat at the table. "This conversation is highly inappropriate. You shouldn't be controlling the poor thing's romantic prospects, if they even have them. When the time comes, the choice will be theirs to make."
Crewel huffs, rolling his eyes and leaning against the table. Ashton kicks his feet. And neither utter another word.
"Good," Trein says, then clears his throat. "Ahem. But that's not to say that we can't offer our guidance. That Vanrouge did quite well on the last History of Magic exam..."
You groan.
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#staff parents being EMBARRASSING and CRINGE compilation#queued
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Concept: Dr Ratio with Ruan Mei's student reader (whos a child) meete Dr ratio's bf aventurine! (Pt 2! A bit inspired by the Aventurine in bed official art)
Warning: relationship between the reader and the characters are strictly platonic, hinted aventio
You can read part 1 here!
Aventurine could be seen clutching his stomach, rolling on the floor while the doctor was covering his flushed face with his one and only mask look alike. You just stared at them with innocent eyes, little did they know those innocent eyes held mischief intent to the duo. The doctor hadn't made a reply, probably because of his flustered state.
"Gosh this kid! I like em already!" Aventurine said between gasps of breathe. "Thank you Mr Aventurine, you're a cool person! Which is why you could do better than that..." You replied while pretending to give Dr Ratio a side eye. Aventurine's shoulder started to shake as he tried to contain his laughter. Looks like he's trying so hard to not give his stomach anymore pain.
Dr Ratio faced Aventurine, his funny-looking mask no longer on his face as he continued to introduce Aventurine to you. "Ahem, incase you didn't know, Aventurine is apart of the IPC." You nodded at him and said "I feel bad knowing you're his colleague." You smiled at the end of the sentence as Dr Ratio could only pinch the space between his eyebrows in frustration. "Anyways which uh...part is he in?" You asked.
"Part? You mean division?" Dr Ratio corrected. "Yeah that, forgot the word. Which one is he?" You repeated the question to be more clear with it. "He's apart of the Ten Stonehearts, other than that he's also apart of the Strategic Investment Department." Dr Ratio explained while Aventurine just smiled at the explanation. There was an awkward silence for awhile before someone spoke up from behind you, calling out your name.
"There you are, I had been looking for you for awhile." You turn around and found yourself looking at your teacher, Ruan Mei. "Did you need me for something?" You asked her. "No, I was just wondering where you left. The critters were looking for you as well." She said. Speaking of critters, you have an idea.
You whispered something in Ruan Mei's ear, she thought for a moment before nodding and pointed towards her lab. As quickly as your little legs could carry you, you sprinted towards her lab. "What did she asked you?" Dr Ratio asked, Aventurine butted in "Im curious as well." Ruan Mei only gave them a small smile, "You'll see."
Not long after she said that, you came back to them while carrying 3 cat critters with you. "What is that for?" Dr Ratio asked. "To keep your boyfriend company while you go beat someone up with your chalk, duh." You jokingly said as Ruan Mei looked at you, then to Aventurine. Aventurine only laughed before accepting the critters you gave him. "Thank you, that's very thoughtful of you. It does get lonely when he's out there beating his students with some chalk~" Aventurine dramatically replied. You two burst out laughing before Ruan Mei made her way towards Dr Ratio. "So, you and him?" She teasingly asked. "I'd rather not reply..." He said as his stone looking statue is back on his face.
Tags: @mitzukitsuna
Should I make a series of Ruan Mei's student!reader? You all seem to enjoy this xD
#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr x reader#hsr dr ratio#dr ratio x reader#hsr aventurine#aventurine x reader#aventio#hsr ruan mei#ruan mei x reader#aventurine x dr ratio#hsr platonic#child reader
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